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ybklix · 18 days ago

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somebody’s watching me

♱‧₊˚.pairing: lee minho x camgirl!femreader ⋆⁺₊✧ 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔: Meeting a mysterious and secretive man excites every part of you, yet without you realizing it, he watches you from his window on a lonely night, not aware that it would ignite a new behavior in him. ⋆｡°⛧ 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 — 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: MDNI, smut, stalker & soft dom minho, perv and obsessive tendencies, voyeurism, mention of sex worker, teasing, overstimulation, sextape, fingering, masturbation, cunnilingus, chocking, spanking, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names, slight dirty talk, cumplay, cumshoot, sex toys, mention of mental illness. ⭒₊ ⊹✩₊˚.₊ ⊹⭒ 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 18.5k

♬⋆.˚ somebody’s watching me by rockwell 🕸️ every breath you take by the police

(𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 '𝟮𝟰) - 𝔴𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 ₊˚🕯️♱‧₊˚. 02: psycho

It was such a lonely night, he didn’t know exactly why he felt that way, besides the obvious fact that he was alone; he came home alone, just like any other day of his life, being greeted by no one but the sweet and warm company of 3 felines, which was more than enough for him, but Lee Minho had already gotten so used to that. He arrived tired from his work, with no thoughts in his mind and acting more automatically with his routine: getting to his apartment, taking a shower and trying to relax, abandoning the immensity of thoughts that flooded his head more and more like annoying voices repeating the same thing over and over again, what was he doing with his life and the existential question if it was really worth what he was doing, he was an adult, an average man, seemingly normal to everyone’s eyes, but he was hiding his own demons and secrets, as he was no longer a proper guy, he was a private detective working in one or another questionable job, making him live in the shadows because, despite his tough image, he lived in uncertainty and in the indescribable fear of humanity, Minho had seen so much that he was not proud of, and that made him think that he was a terrible person… sometimes he felt too much and sometimes he was just a completely heartless guy doing his job.

It was hard for him to live before society as an average man, living alone, a citizen blending in among the people, but his real hidden life was more than that. He gave up working for justice long ago just for a little money, leading him to have the apartment of his dreams in one of the best and safest areas of the city… but sometimes he wondered at what cost, if he never felt satisfied, much less safe, he didn’t even trust his own shadow. He was recruited years ago for his incredible finding ability and among other things, Lee Minho was a damn modern ninja, he knew how to fight, kill, and was so stealthy and clean with his moves, but none of that caused him pride, sometimes he wondered, what did he need in his life to experience even the true sentiment of feeling fulfilled.

Minho sighed, he really didn’t understand why the sudden feeling of wanting to fill his life. But there he was again questioning himself. His alarm suddenly rang, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and instantly silenced it, he grimaced, knowing exactly what it referred to… it was his medication time. His job was not easy, he was rolling in money doing favors and special missions… in exchange for a bit of his deteriorating mental health, post trauma and stress were real, he used to go to the psychiatrist on Thursdays and had his special medication to get back to being the same average and functional man… otherwise he would go crazy, or at least he thought so. Anxiety, paranoia, and small episodes of delirium that were labeled as schizophrenia and certain antisocial personality traits accompanied a poor Minho. His doctor warned him that he could not live alone, that he feared he would suddenly suffer a psychotic break and he knew the risk of being given pills without keeping track of them so every day he visited his doctor for his daily dose. Minho was a patient of psychiatrist Dr. Kim, a patient of very detailed importance, and his curiosity about him grew every day because deep down he felt that there was something in Minho that he needed to work on better… but Minho’s money was also very important, enough to shut him up, plus he was a little afraid of him because of the dangerous work that Lee Minho was involved in.

He took the small plastic bag with his pills out of his jeans pocket, put them in the palm of his hand, and looked at them, a combination of antipsychotics and antidepressants… knowing what he was taking put him even more in a loop of emotions, it depressed him to know he was dependent on drugs in his youth, he was unhappy and the constant fear of having no purpose ate at him again, the anxiety returned, over thinking if he was doing the right thing, if this was what his life should be or if he was wasting his potential, Minho was a killing machine and a lethal weapon of intelligence gathering, he was agile, stealthy, clean, smart and cunning. He was a modern-day spy and ninja.

Minho bit his lip, hesitating whether to take his medication or leave it for that night…. he saw his cat rubbing between his feet… and abruptly and suddenly closed his hand, deciding not to take them that day. He wanted to feel normal, a young man of almost thirty, living alone, enjoying his night because his heavy work was over, so far Minho had no mission and just the one he had finished had left him so economically rewarded as to take his things and run away on vacation… but no he didn’t exactly want that, he felt he wanted to enjoy his solitude, his apartment, he was a bit antisocial, he didn’t feel like socializing with people, he wanted to feel normal and his mind spun thinking about what a normal man at his age could do.

He sighed again, this time audibly, tossing the pills on his desk almost contemptuously, his medication was putting him to sleep, making him feel out of himself, or at least that’s what he felt. The silence made him hopelessly uncomfortable, making him nervous, and he ran to his living room only to turn on the television, letting himself watch the news channel, just to hear something more than his constant and disturbing thoughts; he didn’t pay attention to the TV and kept walking in the darkness of his apartment, he had forgotten to turn on the lights, he was about to do it but the impulse of wanting to be illuminated by the city and the night took over him, suddenly opening the curtains of his big window, his mind went from one thought to another, while he opened the curtain he thought of ordering some dinner and watching a movie, doing little things that someone sane and healthy would do, without getting carried away by the calming effect of the medication that would put him to bed in seconds. He was going to have energy, maybe drink alcohol, he hadn’t consumed it in a long time because he was on medication… but every one of his thoughts ceased just as he saw you.

For the first time in a long time his mind experienced silence and tranquility, for the first time in a long time each of his senses awoke to something unrelated to his work.

In front of his window was another apartment building, popular for being an old and exclusive building where most of its residents were older people, adults with families, businessmen, and people with money, it was a serious building, and it was so rare to see a young woman alone living in that building… unless of course, you were a young newlywed living in your first kind of ‘home’, Minho knew everything about the area he lived in, he knew what each of his neighbors did and who were the people who lived in his apartment building, not because he was sociable and knew them casually… but he knew every detail because of his careful, suspicious and obsessive personality. His doctor wanted to call it something else… one more diagnosis to his list instead of just calling it something characteristic of the intelligent, investigative nature of his personality, because clearly, the behavior was not normal. But Minho knew little about his neighbors in the building across the street, he knew the names of some, and their occupations, and he knew enough to not consider anyone a threat or something he should be on the lookout for… or have an episode of paranoia. He knew of the one young man who lived there at 221-B who looked about his age range named Han Jisung, who was the son of a major millionaire, who moved there because that street meant money, status, and elite and that Jisung would bump into Minho from time to time on his morning jogs, acting friendlier than Minho could stand since they were the same age and the only young men on the street.

He flicked his eyeballs in a quick glance at the windows of the people across the street, disinterested and ready to continue on his way through his home… but something, in particular, stopped him from moving forward, something so captivated his gaze that it made him remain in shock, stopping his gaze on that fixed point, transfixed in his spot as he opened his big round eyes, shocked and absorbed at what was going on in that apartment and what he witnessed that night of which suddenly became uncommon and exciting.

Minho licked his lips, unable to believe it and unable to take his eyes off that window, the movements of his eyes were fast and agile catching every detail of what was happening in that apartment… for the first time in a long time, thousands of sensations exploded inside him, unknown sensations beyond the adrenaline of the constant danger and fear in his daily work, beyond the mental illnesses that were bringing him down every day… it was thrilling, exciting, forbidden and kinky. Who are you…? It was the only thing that crossed his mind as you took his breath away. It was a beautiful girl, the silhouette of her, naked on her bed, with her body illuminated in what seemed to be an led light recording, it was you, a stranger to Minho, completely without the slightest idea that they could see you because you trusted the seller saying that your window was one of those where you could not see inside during the night, so you had just moved in and you were making your typical adult content, pornographic and dirty which generated you an exaggerated amount of money.

Minho was hiding in the dark, watching you, analyzing your every move with curiosity as if he was witnessing a woman’s naked body for the first time as if he was discovering pornography and living in shame of being discovered, starting to excite his manly body… you were making him question, when was the last time he had felt this sexually aroused, when was the last time he had masturbated out of boredom, and excitement, the last time he had fantasized or desired someone, the last time he had been intimate, had sex… possessed another woman’s body for pleasure. He cursed his antidepressants, thinking it was obvious that the adverse effects from his long-term medication were affecting him, diminishing his libido.

He watched you lustfully, his cock getting harder and harder, he watched your silhouette sideways, spreading your legs as you gently and slowly inserted a dildo into your cunt, how your head fell back moaning in arousal and your hair fell gracefully, how you looked seductively to the front where you gently bit your lip and massaged your naked soft breasts as your hand pushed the sex toy into you, Minho delighted, almost imagining the sound of your moans and then watched as you settled back to pretend you were riding the dildo. He not only examined your naked body but admired, what he could from a distance, your sweet, pretty jovial profile side.

He felt dirty, and lurid, like a hormonal young man magically discovering that a hot neighbor was the most typical and dreamed-of sexual fantasy, a young woman who lived for the adult entertainment industry… he felt like a man again.

He examined the room, there wasn’t much more than your bed and the tripod with what appeared to be a cell phone…. Minho deduced… you were either recording yourself for later, or you were one of those of which they were live. He couldn’t take it anymore, he had to find you right now. He let out a gasp and felt his cock throb painfully choking in his pants, he couldn’t stop watching you… but he had something better to watch if you were doing it live. He cursed in annoyance that he had to take his eyes off of you and with bated breath and trembling hands —sensations of which deep down he was rejoicing in pleasure and happiness that he could feel alive again and not like some kind of inhuman, unhappy creature— he grabbed his cell phone, quickly searching the database of the building across the street, it took him three minutes to log in and find out the name and identity of each of his guests. Minho was desperate, his heart pounding because he had to find out who you were and what pages you were on, now. He was still looking straight ahead making sure you were there while he was in a desperate wait to be able to hack into the system.

He blinked suddenly, thinking quickly about what floor you were on and what your apartment number might be.

There you were. Shining before his eyes just as you were just now in your room.

Y/n — 223-B. Female. DOB: 11/02/2002. You were young, too young for him, to live alone and do those things, he thought. But he couldn’t let you go like that. You were the one who made him feel human again. He was becoming obsessed.

He studied your data and in frustration rushed for his laptop, turning it on and bringing it right in front of his window. Something in him told him he must feel like a maniac to be doing all that… but another part taking over told him it was feeling so good… to have a purpose, a mission, to find out something he was genuinely interested in. He repeated your name in his head over and over again. Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n.

Minho rubbed the bridge of his nose, frustrated, about to act the fastest in his entire career so he could find out about you, in two minutes he got every social network of yours, your academic history, birthplace, and phone number. He knew that getting information took some time but he wanted to know what kind of services you did and there it suddenly was. Your OnlyFans username. Minho sighed in relief and again a rush of adrenaline filled his body, it felt so wrong but so right, he was so curious.

He filled in data quickly, linked his card with the data already saved on his laptop, and was impressed to see how famous you were on such a site… and there you were. Live. Minho looked up at your window one last time before he went engrossed to the first thing he could sit at and put his laptop on, his table. More quality, more closeness, and a close-up of your beautiful sweet pussy, swollen from constant stimulation, dripping and glistening, Minho felt virginal, a first-timer watching something so exciting. He looked around the rest of the room, white walls, and horror movie posters… you liked horror movies then, you lived alone as only your name was registered in the database... and you were so young making that content, it was wrong, so wrong he guiltily pulled his cock out of his pants and began to masturbate to your image, moaning through his teeth as he felt his pulsating erection on his rough hand, fantasizing about fucking you, about having his tongue trapped in your slick… he missed the feeling of masturbating, of feeling alive and with purpose, in a soft moan you made Lee Minho cum and filled his hand with his semen, you had changed him forever. But he couldn’t help but feel jealous of the other people who could see you and were doing the same as him.

Minho wanted to get to know you up close, but suddenly his curiosity got the better of him. He wanted to hear your voice and know why you were doing it... who are you.

Minho was able to hack into your account and see all the content you had for free, but something in him thought you were worth every fucking penny. That night was like no other, he cummed so many times he ended up exhausted, his cock and hand sore and tender, scared of everything his body could throw out. That night Minho spent it like a sick man watching absolutely every video and picture of you, masturbating uncontrollably until he left his cock red from the constant stimulation… if that was what you caused him without even knowing you, he already wanted to have you all to himself… but it wasn’t all a dirty sexual fantasy, it was also a dirty dark obsessive fantasy.

That night Minho didn’t sleep at all, he investigated every detail about you. He found out where you grew up, what schools you attended, that you used to live with your mother and stepfather, you have an older brother a couple of years older than Minho, your father died when you were fifteen but your parents were divorced since you were little, you have a 12-year-old younger half-sister whom you miss, you just finished college but you started your OnlyFans account earlier this year. Since then in all these months your popularity has grown to the point of taking you to live in that building. You had two best friends, one of them lives in the city in another area, Minho knew their names, occupations, ages, and workplaces and that they had been your friends since childhood. You had a boyfriend at 17 but it was nothing serious, you lasted two months, you love the horror genre, and art and cinema are your real passions, but you studied and graduated in something more practical because you had little hope of making money graduating in arts, you gave up your dreams but now you were generating millions making adult content… Minho wondered if that was your dream.

You for your part, after that precise live streaming you felt a little strange… besides the fact that you overstimulated yourself and were recording yourself while masturbating, but you had an eerie feeling that someone was watching you, so you closed your curtain and decided to go about your activities with the window covered.

Minho saw your window with the curtain in place the next morning, but he knew it all by then. You are generally shy, but charismatic, you graduated with a high GPA from high school and were doing well in college. You come from a small town and no one but your best friends know about your source of income as an adult content creator, you fool your mother and stepfather that you have a steady job in the city in an office and send them money from time to time, you lived with your best friend after graduating until you just moved out on your own on Roxbury St. and you had a small job in an old and famous bookstore which the owner is an old artist who worked in movies, galleries and so on. You worked Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday, 9 to 5 to keep your mind busy, to feel unashamed to walk down the street, as if the night before you hadn’t recorded yourself over-stimulating and self-pleasuring yourself.

Then Minho put his plan in action, his new mission was you, beyond fucking you, he wanted to hear your voice, to know you better, you seemed so cute, sweet, tender, and innocent to keep doing that kind of content, he was so curious about you, if at some point you will try to resume your dream by paying your own career, if you need help in something and he can give it to you; he was nervous, imagining your voice, your gestures, and manners… the only thing he had no idea about was your type, Minho wanted to make the best impression on you, he wanted you to like him, your last boyfriend was a skinny freckled guy absolutely nothing to do with Minho, but still he had some hope… he never considered himself unattractive, but it was little details he never stopped to think about, in fact, he had stopped thinking about women and flirting since a long time ago, until you showed up.

He smoothed out his sweater and entered the bookstore, the scent of cinnamon and apple filled him completely. A sound of a bell opening the door accompanied him, he looked to the side, finding the place classically decorated in dark wood and dim light only, but he was looking for you. You were tidying up the main desk a bit, passing the time, until you heard the little bell on the door and settled your body to look quickly towards the entrance, with the slight hope of meeting the grandson of the owner of the place, who was handsome and you couldn’t help but have a little crush on him, but you were surprised to find another equally handsome man, with an enigmatic and magnetic beauty, dressed in a navy blue sweater with white stripes, light blue jeans and white shoes, his appearance was clean, fresh and manly. You approached him happily.

He looked for you with his eyes, subtly without looking like a crazy person that the only thing he wanted was to see you and a smile without showing his teeth formed on his face when he saw you approaching him, accelerating his heart, making him feel like an excited teenager and finally you were next to him, a little more than a foot away, you smiled shyly at him, putting your arms behind your back. Minho studied your every move, your every blink, it was as if a divine figure was approaching him in slow motion, with a divine melody in the background, as if you were shining and an imaginary wind was playing with your hair. He saw everything about you, from your black mini skirt, dr. martens boots, your thin white strapless blouse and the modestly cute pink cardigan you wore on top, with a necklace adorning your neck. He couldn’t believe he had you this close.

“Welcome,” you said politely. Honestly, there was no one else in the store, so not approaching him seemed rude. Besides, he was a cute guy. “Can I help you with anything?”

Minho’s world stopped at the sound of your voice, his skin bristled, it was as if a beautiful, cool, soothing autumn breeze delicately hit his face, a feeling he had stopped enjoying so long ago. He was thankful he was wearing a sweater, otherwise you would have seen his arm hairs bristle and his skin change. He thought you were prettier up close, your makeup intact, your sweet, floral perfume scent, he felt he was dreaming for a moment.

“Mmm… I’ll just be watching” he spoke a little nervously, forgetting the last time he talked to a girl he liked, “Well, actually, I’m looking for something by Lovecraft and Stephen King.”

Your smile widened a little and Minho noticed the sparkle in your eyes, locking his gaze with yours. Bingo, Minho had hit the target. You took the bait, you loved horror. And it was true, an attractive man walks into your workplace, black-haired, honey-smooth skin, big, dark, sharp eyes, straight velvety eyebrows with a soft arch, long eyelashes, sharp nose and lips in the shape of a soft heart, he dressed well, smelled good and was looking for something in the horror genre, the quick thought that he was the man of your dreams and the love of your life crossed your mind.

“Sure, the horror section is in the second aisle… do you want me to help you if you’re looking for something specific…?”

Please say yes, you thought, wanting to spend more time with the cute guy.

“Sure, please…”

You smiled, walking beside him to the bookshelves.

“Anything special?” you asked.

Minho couldn’t help but seek to look into your eyes, in a way you found it tender and intense, his big eyes slightly wider, watching you, you liked it.

“Well, from Lovecraft I want something that's good for a 9 year old girl who likes horror to start to read, and from King it’s something recreational for me.”

But what a choice of words, you thought.

Your hopes went to the floor, thinking please please please, this girl is not about his daughter, he looked young, but older than you, plus he didn’t wear a ring on his finger… there was nothing wrong with him having a daughter, just that your little fantasy made in 5 seconds would fall apart.

“Ah, I understand” you pretended to look through the books, wanting to disguise your next question, “Do you have a younger sister…?”

“Oh no, well, almost” he snickered, “It’s for my best friend’s little sister’s present but his family is practically mine too.”

You pouted tenderly, relieved to hear it was just that; he was cute, liked horror and got along well with kids, it was too good to be true. Minho knew how to hit the target again. You loved horror and using a little girl as an excuse would make you remember the great love you have for your little sister and make you sympathize with him more. He had it under control; what he couldn’t control was whether or not after that little encounter you would end up liking him or not, but he hoped you would.

“Well, there’s this collection of Lovecraft stories is good and for you…”

Minho saw you with a small smile and you were interrupted by his arm reaching out to grab a book, passing close to your face.

“I’ll take secret window, secret garden, I wanted to see the movie but I think I’ll read the book first.”

He gave you a shy smile as he held his book in his hands and you looked at him engrossed and gone for a second… feeling a strange sensation in you… maybe butterflies, maybe restlessness, you wondered if this man was your destiny or why all of a sudden so many connections: you had literally just rated and left a comment 3 days ago on your Letterboxd account about the 2004 movie based on that book.

“Yeah… the movie is good” you replied gone.

Minho frowned, studying your movements, “So… should I read the book first or watch the movie?”

“Ah, never mind, I don’t have a specific order. I like the movies more. Anything else?” you added, coming out of your trance.

“I think that’s all for now…. thank you.”

“Well, let’s go to the counter.”

Minho didn’t want to get away from you just like that, in his mind you were somewhat more talkative, more outgoing to him and you had a radiant personality, just like the first minutes of meeting you but he noticed how little by little that glow was gone from you, like you were disappointed… he wondered if he had done something wrong.

It was obvious that you were a little glum, you liked that stranger, you didn’t even know his name but you saw yourself together with him having little dates… maybe it was a little exaggerated and hasty to think but, he looked young, cute and that’s how dating and relating after all worked, with a stranger you suddenly know and like, but you have a very big problem in yourself. As much as you wished you were a simple girl living in the big busy city, with your perfect makeup and perfect attire being nothing more than a woman working in a bookstore… you weren’t, you were a sex worker and you always believed that no man was going to take you seriously, in situations like that you just wanted to cry, you wanted the cute guy to pay and walk away leaving you to wander in your deeply sunken heart. You had this belief that any man was going to humiliate you or run away from you as soon as you confessed to him the real way you get money… and you couldn’t leave the job, it really was such a good economic livelihood, the money was exaggerated and you were only in that bookstore to clear your mind and not feel dirty all the time that what you do is practically filming yourself masturbating, plus you were a great admirer of the bookstore owner and the old man had an appreciation for you since he believed you were a good young girl, he looked at you with such pure eyes that made your day. Sometimes you thought you would end up alone, as youth didn’t last forever and people get bored fast, sometimes you thought you had to start flirting with people in the same industry as you.

Oh, but you had absolutely no idea who the man standing in front of you was and what he was capable of. He already knew that and more about you, he was obsessed.

You charged the man, biting your lip nervously, this time avoiding eye contact, you couldn’t help but feel lonely all of a sudden, you wanted a normal life but you had that social rejection for yourself, directly assuming that making money doing what you did was something shameful.

“Mmm and… don’t you wrap books here as gifts or something?” he suddenly spoke, meeting your gaze, bending down gently as you were still crestfallen.

You chuckled softly and looked up to see his big eyes sparkle.

“No… in fact no one has ever asked before, but for what it’s worth, I think you can use the bag as such, it’s nice.”

Minho looked at the details of the paper bag, decorated and printed in the bookstore’s unique design.

“Ahh, sure, the bookstore of the great artist Hwang Hyunwoo, it’s my first time here, really, it’s nice, I think I will come back… for more books.”

“Well, you only brought one” you smiled at him, playing along a bit.

Minho, a handsome stranger in front of you, laughed, adorably showing his teeth.

“True, but it’s because I want to come back” you blushed a little and Minho couldn’t resist, he wanted to let you know he was interested, give you those subtle signals, “You work here every day?”

“Mmm, yes” you answered shyly for the first time, over analyzing his look, his body language, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up, still you answered him, “I’m here almost every day, on Saturdays Mr. Hwang’s grandson is here and on Sundays it’s closed.”

He smiled broadly, “That’s good to know, thank you… since I moved in recently I’ve been trying to look for different healthy habits and relax, like reading a book, maybe you can recommend me more of the new stuff that came in” he added tenderly, putting it on the air that he just moved in.

He just moved in, just like you. Once again you took the bait just as he wanted you to and again you said subtly and softly.

“Sure, you can come over anytime. Did you move nearby?”

“Not really, I came here because I wanted to get to know the place but now I live on Roxbury street.”

Your heart pounded hard, it was too many connections and coincidences that you couldn’t take it anymore, you were almost scared, scared that someone this perfect and cute would suddenly come into your grey life. This time you didn’t want to play along, you wanted him to leave before you could get to know each other more, before he ends up horrified or inside a fantasy with a merely sexual purpose with you.

“Oh, I see. Yes it is a bit far, but… I hope you can come soon.”

Minho again noticed your sudden change, your muffled tone of voice, in his mind you should have said excitedly that you lived on the exact same street… but your reaction was very different than planned, leaving you more as someone unpredictable and mysterious, leaving Minho even more intrigued about anything and everything about you.

“I will. Thank you… what’s your name?” he dared to say, earning from you to look him warmly in the eyes again.

He knew, but he wanted your first meeting to be so natural and a nice chance.

“Y/N.”

“I’m Minho. It was a pleasure, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Have a nice day” you smiled at him.

Of course it would be a nice day for Minho. He talked to you, came closer to you, saw your smile dazzle his face and your fingers which naughtily played with your femininity the night before. From today he could not stop. Your new story had already begun.

You watched him leave and sighed as soon as he walked through the door and lost himself in the crowd and on the sidewalk. You sighed taking all the air out as if you were holding your breath. Minho, you thought, Minho from Roxbury, your exact same street… he must have money, he looked so ordinary, you mean, like a nice man, but his beauty was unmatched.

You continued your regular activities while Minho managed to sneak into the perfect spot to watch every movement in the bookstore. He sat by the window of the coffee shop across the street, so he watched each of the customers coming in, counting the approximate time they were coming in, all the while pretending to read a book, eat, and be on his laptop. Everything was going well, until a tall, black-haired man with a thin build came in around 4 p.m. and after half an hour he immediately made Minho uneasy.

Minho couldn’t see anything of him, other than his back, his clothes and his long shoulder-length hair, but to his luck, the man had parked his luxurious car right in front of the bookstore, causing Minho to have the license plate number, but to his fate, he felt under pressure, as if someone was watching him, as if the people in the coffee shop were watching him so he couldn’t comfortably perform his stalker activities, discovering even the guy’s dirtiest secret just by his license plate. And he didn’t want to go to the bathroom either to have privacy, he would lose sight of you and lose sight of the guy. So Minho found a secret way to look up the information on his phone, secretly putting it under the table and starting his search.

Hwang Hyunjin. He was the owner of the car, and probably of the store, since it was Hwang Hyunwoo’s grandson, and he was also clearly the man who came in and was still in the store from a while ago, with you alone since no one else had come in anymore… plus you were not long in closing, Minho thought since it was 4:44 p.m. and the Hyunjin didn’t get out of there.

He began to fret, to get annoyed. He shook his leg frantically in despair as his gaze darkened and he didn’t take his eyes off the bookstore, more than forty minutes had passed and Minho could only think of the worst, it was torturing him not being able to know exactly what was going on and what he was to you. If Minho wanted total control of you he would have to steal your cell phone so he could transfer all the information to him and see your every move on the cell phone… but he wouldn’t do that plus he wanted to know what you were doing face to face with someone else, every second that passed he was losing more of his sanity; he couldn’t bear the thought of seeing you with someone else, you were already his, or so he thought. Hyunjin was rich, a grown man, he was married but shit, you were too beautiful not to want to risk everything for a simple caress or kiss from you.

4:46. Hyunjin was with you for forty-six minutes by yourselves. Absolutely anything could have happened in that time, caressing your body, running his hands through your hair, Minho wanted to murder him as soon as he saw Hyunjin get out of there and get into his vehicle to leave. Minho would have followed him… but the good news was that you did not leave with him.

Sixteen minutes passed and at exactly 5:01 you closed the place. By that time Minho was already waiting in his car, ready to follow you, since he already knew you were walking all that long way from work to your apartment.

On the other hand, you didn’t have the slightest idea that you were being followed by the cute boy you met in the afternoon that you couldn’t get out of your head, Minho… until, of course, then Hyunjin showed up at the bookstore and you completely forgot about Minho’s existence. You liked Hyunjin from the first moment you met him, when you shyly came to ask for a job and he was standing next to the legend, and his grandfather Hwang Hyunwoo. Hyunwoo and Hyunjin quickly trusted you and put you in the absolute care of the bookstore like they had never done with anyone before. You were grateful, plus you could occasionally delight visually and in all platonic realms with Hwang Hyunjin, as he was older, another well-known artist and a married man. You still enjoyed every second you spent with him because he was like a pure and cute crush who made you remember how human you were. Hyunjin was gentle, shy and cute, his flirtations were soft and subtle, never crossing the fine line between you and the great tension of kissing whenever you were alone in a room.

Hyunjin arrived that day to tidy up a bit since he would be working the next day. He stayed a while ordering the books and checking boring inventories when… you both knew it was a silly excuse to see you, and that put you in a very good mood. You both chatted. You helped him, always by his side, passing him books and taking the opportunity to brush his hand every time you did it since it was the only way you could touch him.

You were walking happily, almost with a dazed smile on your face. With Hyunjin you didn’t have that insecurity of him finding out you were that kind of girl who does that kind of content, in fact, you fantasize about him finding out one day and not stopping fantasizing about you, you fantasize about the idea of him touching himself behind his wife’s back, with his cheeks pink, shame and guilt on his face, with his hand on his cock, stimulating himself with pictures and videos of you that with regret he has to pay for. After all, your crush on him sometimes wasn’t so pure… is that, Hyunjin had a strange way of treating you, sometimes he would treat you like a little girl, tousle your hair and look at you tenderly, sometimes he would see you so uniquely and inexplicably, as if his dark thoughts were taking over him, you fantasized about the idea of him finding out what you were doing and stop seeing you as an innocent little girl and dare to take you and fuck you… but that was a thought that went to the extreme.

Still, Hyunjin left you more confused than usual, as he said he had something for you and would go and bring it to you, leaving… but you didn’t know whether to wait for him or not, whether to bother him by calling his number or leave it at that, but you left without waiting for him, acting even weirder, you were afraid he wouldn’t show up and leave you waiting so you just left as soon as it was your time to go.

Minho followed your steps, sneaking out from his car. He knew exactly which road you used to take, a lightly used route that left him in better total control to observe you. He had absolutely everything under control until, at a certain point, another car managed to get in front of his. Now, being the one that was following you closely, Minho knew exactly who it was.

For a couple of minutes you were starting to feel nervous, a little scared, as if someone was behind you watching your every step. You didn’t want to turn around, because you were afraid that it would encourage or incite more whoever was following you, a silly idea, for someone obsessed with mystery and horror movies, but happening in real life made your hair stand on end. You reached a lonely street, rarely occupied, making you even more paranoid, why you suddenly felt you were being watched…

Then something happened that almost made you run, you saw out of the corner of your eye the car leveling out as you were walking down the sidewalk, you saw the figure of the car pull over, but you continued your walk scared, holding tightly the pepper spray and your self-defense kit in your sweater pocket; usually you used to have nice and relaxing walks, you didn’t understand why today it felt so strange.

The guy in the car accelerated further, stopping a distance ahead of you from your walk, so you could recognize the vehicle and guess perfectly who it was.

Your racing heart calmed down a bit, and you took your hand out of your pocket, but you still felt uneasy because you could have sworn it was someone else and not him, who gave you a smile as soon as you approached the car.

“Hyunjin?” you said with a smile.

He quickly rolled down his window and showed a happy countenance.

You were glad yet you felt a rush of fear and hesitation, as a car passed by at a moderately low speed, as if they wanted to watch you, you followed the car pass by with your eyes and as soon as it was out of your sight your attention returned to Hyunjin.

“What are you doing here? I told you to wait for me, I had something for you. Sorry if I was late, honey. It’s about to rain, get in the car, please.”

The nickname made you crazy in so many ways and you obeyed him instantly.

Minho parked in a strategic spot where you couldn’t observe his car, but he saw every detail of you getting into Hyunjin’s car, filling him with anger.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t know if you would come back” you replied already sitting in the passenger seat.

Hyunjin stared at you.

“Of course I would come back. I just forgot the little gift and wanted to give it to you now.”

You got excited again. You were as excited as you had ever been in your life. Hyunjin bit his lip nervously and turned his body towards the back of his car to take the canvas of a painting about 50 cm. A painting of him.

“You have an original Hwang piece” he laughed adorably, “Just kidding. I did it thinking of you, since you just moved in, maybe it will look nice somewhere in your apartment.”

You held it and admired it, the small details of that red flowers in a vase enamored your sight like never before.

“Hyunjin… Thank you, it’s beautiful. I’m speechless.”

You looked into his eyes amidst the poor light of the night. You watched his face, with an immense urge to kiss him.

You would definitely put it in your apartment, every work of Hyunjin’s is so expensive or was just on display that you found it hard to believe he would give you something like this. Hyunjin could notice the sincerity of your gaze and watched tenderly as you saw his painting, even appreciating his signature in the lower right corner.

“If you need help with decorating your place, you know you can let me know.”

You nodded, biting your lip trying to hide your big smile but your eyes sparkled of their own accord and you laughed softly as you remembered how unseriously your apartment was decorated, complete with framed posters of your favorite horror movies. Then slowly the gentle rain began to fall as it became more and more intense. Hyunjin drove you to your apartment building, ruining Minho’s plans and making him uncontrollably furious, his mind thought of eliminating Hyunjin right away… but he didn’t want to hurry, he wanted to have a real reason and not act out of cruelty and perversity; although he wouldn’t tolerate waiting until something really happened between the two of you. His stomach spun at the mere thought that while he was sitting in his car, squeezing his hand against the steering wheel, something between the two of you may already be happening in Hyunjin’s car under the rain.

Minho felt a slight relief as the little meeting of you lasted 7 minutes and Hyunjin started his luxurious vehicle. Minho hurried to get to your apartment building earlier, just in case his plan could somehow be arranged: if you didn’t show up, you had left with Hyunjin, or in the worst case scenario, you showed up with Hyunjin entering your apartment. You were thinking just the second option.

Hyunjin parked the car and you both remained in a tense silence filled with so many questions and heavy breaths as you watched the rain fall. You had to wait for the rain to stop for a while. You couldn’t turn off your thoughts, so you told him:

“Do you want to come in? You can help me put up your painting, you can see the place and judge for yourself, give me ideas for decoration…”

Hyunjin looked at you, roaming your body with his eyes from your thighs to your face, he licked his lips, about to say yes, with so many ideas in his head of what can happen with a young girl as pretty as you in the comfort of your apartment, by yourselves… but he had a wife waiting for him at home.

“No… no….” he whispered almost to himself, stopping himself from doing something he was going to regret, “It’s night now, I must go home and finish some projects” he excused himself.

You pressed your lips together and he noticed the disappointment in the sweet look he adored so much about you.

“But I’ll help you another day, earlier, how about Sunday?” he said without thinking just to take that expression off your face and please you.

You smiled happily nodding. Hyunjin thought that since it was daytime maybe his mind was clearer and wouldn’t be clouded with so many overwhelming thoughts that involved messing around with you. Maybe the clarity of the day would make him more aware of what the consequences might be.

You got out of his car with a smile when the rain stopped and went back to thank him, you were excited and feeling on cloud nine. Even if nothing happens, you want to keep him close.

Minho felt his chest squeezing waiting for you to appear in the corridor of your apartment, however and with whomever, but waiting to see you, while he was hiding; his pain vanished as soon as he saw you and quickly he also walked carefree, acting completely as if he didn’t know you and went to the apartment next to yours a few far and considerate meters away. You pressed the code to your apartment without realizing that there was someone else wanting to enter the apartment to your left… but the sound of clicking keys coming from that side caught your attention, as you thought the apartment was unoccupied and you only had one neighbor to your right, Han Jisung. You turned your head with curiosity and serendipity, finding something that froze your blood for no apparent reason, but then the impact became good news. There he was, you would recognize that man anywhere, his soft, shiny, straight black hair, his perfectly sculpted side profile. The boy from the afternoon who visited the bookstore. Minho. He was your new neighbor apparently.

Minho knew exactly that you were seeing him, his peripheral vision and eyesight of a ruthless, trained, stealthy killer knew it. He feigned innocence as if he sensed a look on him and turned to see you, squinting his eyes and tilting his head as if processing whether that was really you.

A rush of happiness came over you after you looked at each other in confusion for a moment.

“Minho?”

“Hey… Y/n, right?”

You nodded, leaving your door slightly open and walking down the hallway approaching him, which he did as well, dropping his shopping bags on the floor near his door.

“You moved here?”

“Yes” he smiled, “You live there?” he pointed to your apartment, “Wow, what a coincidence, we’ll be neighbors now.”

“Yeah… I hadn’t noticed anyone moving in.”

That was because Minho literally did everything today.

“Ah, maybe because you were busy during the day and evening.”

After a few glances, and tender and awkward goodbyes, you entered your apartment, unwilling to continue your night’s work, so you took a shower and relaxed until you fell asleep, this time wishful thinking about Minho.

Minho hadn’t quite moved in next door to you, it was a fake apartment just to get close to you and have an excuse, his whole life was in the apartment across the street from yours. He kept watching you during the night from his real apartment and he in his true element, started to take out all his professional equipment worthy of the best private detective: professional cameras with excellent lenses and zoom capabilities. He couldn’t help it, you looked so pretty for him enjoying the comfort of your living room, with the window uncovered; then you went out for a moment through the small balcony to enjoy the fresh and humid weather and aroma that the rain had left in the city, making Minho get some almost artistic shots, while he thought that kissing you would be so far his greatest achievement in life.

The next morning was also planned for Minho, waiting by the emergency stairs for you to arrive as it was time for your 8 a.m. morning jog, at least on the days you didn’t work. When you heard footsteps he pretended to come downstairs also wearing sporty clothes until you met casually once again. You greeted him happily and walked down the stairs beside him, as you liked to warm up your body that way without using the elevator.

“I hadn’t seen you coming downstairs also to go jogging” you told him.

“Really? I always go out at this time, while I’m still doing my work online, between 8:30 and 9:00.”

“Ah, you’re right, since I dont work today I overslept a little and go for a run later” you laughed, “I usually do it earlier.”

And he knew all those little details about you.

“And you already had breakfast?” he observed you briefly and shyly.

You denied, humming a soft no.

“You don’t like having breakfast?”

“It’s not that, it’s just that I skipped it today and wanted to go straight for a little run.”

He smiled, “Then let’s have breakfast later. How about at my place?”

You both jogged through the park and stopped to talk as you walked; Minho felt so free being with you, almost forgetting the issue of wanting to clarify what was between you and Hyunjin. And you felt good together with Minho, you were starting to like him that you came to think that even if your insecurity didn’t allow you to go further, at least you could maintain a friendship, like with your other neighbor Jisung, whom you only thought he was cute and you used to have a tender friendly relationship.

Later when you returned to the building, you shyly told him that you would like to take a shower first and then go to his apartment. You wanted to look nice for Minho, and not sit next to him at a meal agitated and slightly sweaty. He did the same, showered and dressed up for you to start preparing breakfast. You knocked on his door where you were surprised by an even more handsome Minho if that was even possible, fresh from showering, dressed and changed, smelling good and in addition, cooking by himself.

“Wow, you just moved in and you already have everything arranged? That’s nice” you commented.

“Ah yes, I hired an interior designer and her team to get it done quickly.”

You wanted to know what he was doing for a living, the apartment and getting it in order in such a short time was a crazy idea, but you restrained yourself from asking him as you knew he would return the question and you had no idea how to evade it not even 24 hours after meeting him. Minho understood that it might make you uncomfortable, so he wouldn’t bother asking that question until he saw trust, and confidence in your eyes, when he felt you were sincere and would be willing to tell him.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him, so far you had what you considered important, Lee Minho, 29 years old and single, coming from the city, the rest was a mystery. When you were done and it was time to say goodbye you invited him to your apartment later to hang out watching movies, which he accepted with a mischievous and playful smile as he felt you were feeding his obsession and enticing him to continue.

You had never invited a boy to your apartment, because there was no boy to invite, let alone your own fixed place where you lived alone, but everything changed when you met Minho. You dressed up for him like you had never done before, with neat makeup and comfortable but cute clothes, accessories, your hair, everything, meeting him had awakened in you an unknown motivation.

There was something about him that captivated you and caught you too much, besides his cute looks and mysterious and inexplicable presence and personality. You tried to look him up on social media but everything was private and there was so little information, awakening your curiosity even more… why someone like him would be single.

Minho had stopped taking his medication two days ago and felt that only you were his new stability, meeting you and learning more about you distracted him from whatever he was dealing with, or so he thought.

He knocked on your door, after mentally preparing himself, going back to take a shower and getting ready for you… he was finally about to officially enter your life and your home. Things might be moving fast but it still felt good. It was a delightful pace to get to know each other. Minho was not the second choice because Hyunjin was never an option for you. After all, you recognized that he was married…. Minho was like your first crush after so long, one where it could truly happen and you had a vision… or at least just now. You were letting Hyunjin go and wanting to focus on Minho. Yet you were so genuinely nervous that as soon as you heard him knocking on your door you instantly regretted it, thinking the idea was silly.

Minho finally entered your apartment, analyzing and admiring every part of your space, it was better than he had imagined. You spent the last few days decorating the place and arranging every piece of furniture, with the help of your kind neighbor Jisung on occasion. For Minho it was all going well, horror movie posters all around your apartment, Halloween, Scream, Psycho, The Shinning, Child’s Play, Saw, The Grudge… he smiled, thinking you were a little nerd trapped in a hot girl’s body and in the shape of temptation. Nothing about your slightly creepy posters disturbed him until he saw a painting he recognized in seconds as a Hwang Hyunjin piece, Minho’s face changed in milliseconds, but you didn’t notice because you were walking in front of him, your back to him.

You were with your cheeks slightly red and turned to see him, you led him to the kitchen, just by the counter to prepare the snacks, but you were as anxious to even eat something. It was… like a first date.

“So… you like scary movies movies?”

You widened your eyes slightly, trying to contain your smile. It was obvious.

“Not really, I’m more into romance” you replied sarcastically.

Minho chuckled softly, seeking to look you in the eyes and in a serious tone said:

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

You couldn’t help but smile, wondering if he had done it intentionally, it still gave you a bit of a shiver.

“Okay, Mr. Ghostface” you replied, Minho laughed realizing the use of the popular phrase, “Actually… it’s Halloween, it reminds me of happy times. But I love so many, I can’t pick a favorite.”

“Your happy times involve a killer who murders on October 31st?” he joked.

“Ah, so you do know Halloween.”

Minho was more into emotional movies, but he read all the reviews just so he could match you. A mischievous half-smile formed on his face, you were both getting more and more comfortable.

“So I guess we’ll watch a scary movie then.”

“You guess right” you sounded somewhat seductive, “It’s that time of year… October.”

You moved closer to him to tease him without losing eye contact, creating tension but only to slide your hand on the counter and playfully grab one of the snacks. For a second… Minho thought you were going to make a big step between you, but you were just playing around a bit.

By their second movie you had already entered into absolute trust and were throwing comments on the air about the plot or movie facts, Minho found it absolutely adorable that you knew so much about whatever it was you were watching, plus the distance between your bodies was non-existent. Minho had to confess that despite being able to murder mercilessly to do his job, horror movies were never his thing, but he did it just to be with you. You watched The Ring, Halloween, Scream and A Nightmare on Elm Street, you’d never been so intimate with a man in that way, being yourself after all. Minho was tired of seeing death, fear and fantasy, it was something he lived in real life before he met you, so now he wanted to see you.

“Do you think you can sleep alone?” you joked.

“Sure. I think you were a little soft on me and didn’t show me the real scary movies.”

You smiled. “You’re right. I hate extreme gore, I’m more about living in nostalgia, the feeling of suspense and a little jump scare. I mean, Chucky to some extent gives a laugh but the plot had all the people in the 80’s gripped.”

“You’re so interesting…” he spoke absorbedly, letting himself go and softening his gaze.

You were both still sitting on the couch in your living room and his sudden look at you made you shy and nervous… it had been a while since anyone had looked at you like that, even Hyunjin never did because he held back so much himself but Minho had nothing to hide, other than his obvious obsession, his real job and he believed he had to hide his mental medical conditions, but he was a free man to be able to date you.

“I think I’ve had you here long enough, sorry, I didn’t even ask if you could stand to watch more than two movies” you spoke nonsensically, flustered by the closeness of his face and his soft but piercing gaze.

“I can stand anything with you. I liked it—I like being with you, a lot. I like you.”

“Minho…”

It felt good for the moment: the confession, the tension. Minho couldn’t resist and slowly leaned towards you, you could see it coming and your heart raced, letting his left-hand cup your cheek and his handsome face come close to yours. You both closed your eyes and enjoyed the caress of each other’s mouths. A tentative brush at first, his warm and soft breathing play and the delicate touch of his nose with yours to kiss in the sweetest and gentlest kiss, a kiss that touched absolutely every particle of you that even made you almost unleash tears… you had never been treated this sweet before… maybe you didn’t deserve it.

It felt like a real fairy tale, your hands gently clutching at his sweater, your stomach uneasy at the sensation, your face warm and your emotions on edge. You enjoyed every second of his lips moving against yours, but deep down you were both scared that this would trigger an inevitable series of events and that would cause you to have to reveal your truths that you were struggling to hide. You could lose each other. You questioned whether you should tell Minho what you did, and he wondered if he should stop his unhealthy tendencies.

The sweet kiss gradually became more passionate and playful. You didn’t complain, you liked it, his tongue was naughty and slick, and your tense body relaxed, letting it lay back gently, causing Minho to fall slightly on top of you. His left hand began to caress your thigh and he settled his body suddenly, lowering his kisses to your neck, pressing just your center with his bulge which you weren’t sure if it was stiff at all but you felt it grind against you subtly, teasing you to perfection.

You were becoming aroused and Minho was reveling in your scent, in his lips brushing your skin, his closeness, your breathing close to him, he was reveling uncontrollably, again feeling the dopamine and serotonin being produced in him.

You never thought that someone could make you feel like that and that you could like him to that extent, in a tender way and desire him with all your strength. You needed Minho and your soft moan when he pressed your thigh close to your needy center revealed it completely. Minho smiled playfully once more and whispered teasingly to you:

“We’re breaking one of the rules for surviving in a scary movie… no sex… or how come that guy in Scream used to say that?”

You smiled, shuddering feeling how Minho was teasing you. Your concern wasn’t that he had just confirmed you were about to have sex, but that you took the importance to the little game:

“Are we in a scary movie?”

Minho kept pressing his crotch to your center and brushing his lips on your neck until he pulled away from you a little leaving you confused. You saw his smile.

He just wanted to tease you a little.

“I think it’s time for me to go… but we have to meet again soon.”

The next day you made up an excuse for Hyunjin not to visit your house, from now on you wanted Minho, that kiss had changed everything.

But your situation was something you couldn’t hide, you spent more and more time with him, you got to know each other more, you went places together, he took you out on the town, and he came to pick you up after you finished your work at the bookstore and you both talked for hours, it was so cute and it was something hard to hide at the same time, what you actually did alone when you said goodbye to him during the night. Besides the fact that you didn’t want him to find out about somewhere else, he seemed sincere, you thought he genuinely didn’t know how you made money.

And the more time you spent together, the more Minho’s paranoia grew. He wanted to quit, he tried, to be normal and not have to study and watch your every move all the time, but he couldn’t do it. Now he had gradually developed insomnia and on lonely nights he couldn’t help but break into your house, circumvent the security system and watch you sleep comfortably; the quietness in which your chest moved as you breathed, your body relaxed, your eyes closed, even though Minho stood there expressionless, watching you caused him so much tranquility and sensations. He knew he should stop… but he couldn’t, he kept watching Hyunjin closely, Minho joined Hyunjin’s wife’s book club, to flirt with her and slightly use psychological manipulation where she would think of infidelity and that would make her go back to her husband’s arms, Minho wanted to take Hyunjin away from you in a healthy way…. because if he finds out that he somehow touched you or has been looking for a way to do so… his next move would not simply be manipulation games, his next plan was to truly use his skills and what he was made of, taking him away from you forever, Minho still took a deep breath and calmed down, letting Hyunjin be a part of your life, but only as your boss. Minho was to be the only man in your life, the only one you love.

But his mind was all over the place, handling so many things at once and thinking about you all the time. Minho thought he only calmed down when he was with you, because when he was alone the constant fear returned, the paranoia of whether his plan and deeds had been clean enough to continue, the constant fear that someone was watching him, that someone might know what he was up to, he felt it deep in his bones and was suspicious of everyone… until he got to see you and the noisy, scary feeling went away.

And all he longed to do was sleep next to you, but somehow you always ended up pushing him away, creating more fear in him. You also awakened in him a fierce sexual desire, he would touch himself watching your content every night, he would steal your underwear or a lingerie set he saw you wearing in one of your videos and end up getting completely obsessed, he would cum fantasizing on you, he would use the garment to stroke his cock… Minho was crazy about you, but none of that would compare to the day he finally got to be with you.

He would leave little clues that he was there, slightly moving certain things in your home out of position… it was fun for him to sneak around and live in the dark, it was a meticulous game that kept his mind busy.

You began to notice these small changes, finding it strange, at first you thought the clothes were getting lost in the laundry but there was no point in that since you remembered to put them away…

But you decided that enough had happened, that before Minho came more into your life and it hurt you more intensely to have him leave, you decided it was better to confess to him what you were doing, so you spoke to him that cold night at your apartment.

“So, we’ll watch Dead Silence tonight, right?” he said, sitting down on the chairs at your kitchen island.

Minho was happy, but judging by your serious expression he didn’t know what to think now.

“I have to tell you something because I want you to know it from me,” you said.

He knew exactly what you meant.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly, trying to sound sympathetic, hiding his excitement.

“I’ll tell you something and you have every right to leave if you want to, because it might not be easy…” you kept looking at him seriously and kept your distance, “I have an OnlyFans account, I make content by myself, don’t worry, I’m not seeing anyone else. If you have any questions… I’ll answer them, if you think you should distance yourself, I’ll understand.”

You were nervous and Minho enjoyed every second of your expression and your tense body, it was a guilty pleasure, plus you agitatedly confessed not dating anyone else. You saw pure confusion on Minho’s pretty face, his frown was furrowed and his lips were in an ‘o’ shape ready to ask as he softly shook his head. Of course, it was all part of his act.

“What is OnlyFans? Why are you so nervous, honey, is it something bad? Why would I want to distance myself from you?”

Your heart pounded, you were ready for any answer… but of all things you never thought he would sweet talk you and not know what it was.

“You seriously don’t know what OnlyFans is?”

“I barely know what Instagram is, honey” he laughed.

You bit your lip nervously, you wanted to be just as relaxed as he was, waiting for the news, “It’s… a page where you pay to see adult content, people create content and…. I’m part of that. It’s how I make money, Minho.”

Minho softened his face, nodding as he took it all in and crooned a light “Ohh…” Then he watched your sparkling eyes and silence formed. You didn’t want to walk away from him, but if it happened later it was going to hurt more.

He stood up from his chair and walked towards you, placing his hands on your upper arms.

“I don’t have any questions. I understand,” he spoke and you looked into his eyes, “That’s no reason to walk away.”

You looked at him incredulously and let him lightly squeeze your arm. Now it was you who was speechless.

“I like you, Y/n, I don’t have to judge you for that.”

It was clear that in his time he had judged you… but that was how he had known you and he didn’t feel it was fair to criticize you.

“Are you sure?” he nodded, loving the sight of your big pleading eyes and your plump lips that Minho resisted kissing, he nodded, “Because I like you too and I wanted you to know that….”

Minho’s heart wanted to jump out of his chest after hearing that.

“Now I know and I'm okay with that…you’re already calmer?”

You nodded, but it was still hard to digest that someone like him still liked someone like you.

That night you watched the movie but fell asleep in Minho’s arms after half of it, but it only lasted a few short minutes until you woke up. He was holding you, finally living his dream, with your face and body against his chest, his pecs were comfortable but you felt embarrassed when you woke up and realized. You released your body from his grip and smiled shyly, ready to say goodbye to him… but Minho was lost in his own thoughts.

“I have some questions now…” he said, licking his lips.

You blinked, looking at him as you tried to clear your tiredness.

“Which ones?”

“What do you usually do… what’s that content?”

Minho looked you straight in the eye, intimidating you. He knew but he wanted to hear it from you. You felt like you were in a nightmare.

“Well… sex videos, nude or provocative pictures, that’s what I do.”

“Where?”

You swallowed nervously, “My room.”

“The only thing I don’t agree with is that strangers have seen your room and naked body before me” he blurted out, serious.

You looked at him. You didn’t expect that… but his serious expression and dark eyes pleased you. Minho couldn't help fantasizing about you with your body on top of his. At first, it was tender, but then something awoke in him. You smiled. You desired and wanted Minho like you had never wanted someone before. If he wanted it now, you were more than willing, and you were sure you would enjoy it.

“Well… you have something better,” you said, moving closer to him, cutting an absolute distance. “You can touch me all you want, the rest… they can only wish for it.”

And to think that Minho was exactly that, just like the rest, that he could only wish to have you, but his obsessive plan and behavior were paying off as you finally positioned yourself on his lap, seductively, with your knees on the side of his thighs, you played with his sweater and thought about how much you loved his big, worked arms, but it was rare that you saw him like that, as all the time he was so well covered, wearing a nice sweater, making him look adorably hot.

Those were the few times you saw his body…like when you were out and he was taking off his jacket and revealing his arms.

You fantasized about Minho’s body, his thighs were strong and thick, and his masculine build felt so good under your body, he alone made you feel uncontrollably aroused in seconds. Despite being a sex worker, you felt lonely, you only did it for money but everything was absolutely yourself using your body, and now… you couldn’t wait for Minho to use it.

You leaned towards him to take his lips, Minho was surprised by the speed of the situation he hesitated as he gently pulled his neck back but instantly kissed you back with pleasure. His hands roamed your body and you both delighted in the taste and feel of each other’s lips while the movie was still playing, the sound accompanied you and the light from it reflected brightly on you, you lasted like this for a while, kissing until you heated your soul and spirit, dropping your center into his bulge and rubbing you gently, almost causing a moan to escape your lips as you felt how big and hard he was. When you were both breathless and tentatively separated still giving each other little kisses, you suggested:

“Do you want to know my room? There’s nothing special about it, but since you want to know…”

You started to say playfully but were interrupted by Minho’s huge smile plastered on his face and him getting up from the couch with you in his arms.

Minho walked up to your room without you giving him any instructions as to where it was, and for a second, you questioned if you had told him before. His lips on you interrupted all thoughts. He admired the place and breathed in deeply the sweet essence of it—white walls, more posters—it was the place from which he had fallen for you since that night. You turned on the dim lamp light.

You didn’t say a word and let Minho act amidst the sharp breaths and piercing, lascivious glances. He sat you on the bed and leaned his body to kiss you while his hands caressed your thighs. You were so aroused, the caresses of his soft hands and his dominant, masculine presence on top of you weakened you in desire, his movements were smooth and intense that you could feel the slight desperation in him, squeezing your thighs as he pressed his lips tightly on you, as if he wanted to devour you, as if this was all something he had been waiting so long to do and was enjoying every detail of the process.

Minho once again ever since he met you, he felt like a normal man, capable of having his sexual desires, capable of finally being able to touch the woman he was so eagerly longing for. He lowered his lips to your neck and it took him great willpower not to bite your skin, he wanted to kiss you, caress you and make you feel good but at the same time he felt he had to be on your skin, he wanted to leave you the most satisfied you have ever been in your entire life, for sex to be more than sex, he wanted to truly unite with you, in his mind, his intense thoughts worked best.

Your clothes suddenly made him desperate, believing they were interrupting something very intimate between you and with a big smile and in a hurried act, Minho took off your blouse, causing his erect hard cock to throb painfully in his pants, he was so ecstatic just to have you all to himself and the mere sight of you, no silly cameras or recording in between, he was so excited to feel like the luckiest one to be the one enjoying the process of undressing you and being able to pleasure you.

You bit your lip as you hadn't quite appreciated how Minho was incredibly hot how he looked right now, it was true that the constant thought of having sex with him kept recurring in your mind but it was something you let go of and now you were hugely immersed in him, every inch of your body throbbing and messed up with just the beginning of caresses and foreplay, you had never wanted someone as much as you felt now, as if you were back to being an innocent and hormonal sweet girl again. You were a little embarrassed, if you had known you were going to have sex with Minho tonight, you would have worn nicer underwear, you were wearing your black bra and your comfy Hello Kitty little pink cotton panties with the detail of a little bow on the top seam in front.

Your new lover appreciated you for a moment to return his lips to your bare skin, pressing kisses down your chest, moving lower and lower and leaving you breathless, Minho nimbly unfastened your bra and became engrossed with the mere sight of your juicy breasts exposed, the delicacy of your tender nipple decorating your organ. He bit his lip and did not hesitate to feel and squeeze your breasts with his hands, moaning softly as he finally felt the softness of them, the firmness of your erect nipples pressed against the palm of his hand and dark fantasies were taking over Minho, remembering all those nights when he masturbated and cummed to exhaustion drooling over your breasts, for your femininity and naked body, he could pull out his cock and masturbate so he could cum on your breasts and pretty face as he so much desired, all his pearly white liquid erotically adorning your beautiful body, but he believed it would be pointless to self-pleasure himself just now when he had you when he was finally touching you and felt the most intense pleasure in pleasuring you too.

You on your part were feeling your panties so wet, you were so excited because it was the first time in a long time that you were with someone, that you were satisfying yourself sexually with someone else, for despite a generalized thought that sex workers must have such an active and turned on sex life, yours was not like that, it was so lonely, you were relatively popular among the community and other creators invited you to their kind of content. Still, you refused all the time, nothing was exciting with fucking strangers, and Minho for you was that cute guy who agreed to watch horror movies with you and with whom you longed for a relationship.

You didn’t hold out long enough and you let yourself be carried away by the pleasure Minho was giving you and slowly laid your body down, you had so many thoughts like the fact that Lee Minho truly was a man, because from the last times you had been intimate after confessing to the guys that you did adult content they went crazy and thought they could release any kind of fantasy with you, they used you for their own pleasure without even thinking about yours, they played dominant and even though you adored being ordered around in sex… they did it in such a different way, they ended up ordering you around for their own pleasure… but Minho… god, you felt so different with Minho, it was obvious he was also looking to satisfy himself with you but you could tell he was prioritizing you; most men would just drop their pants, rudely looking for easy access to you and have their 8 minute fun, or 5 if they ordered you to blow them off and their pathetic horny bodies wouldn’t allow them more time.

“Fuck, baby, they’re perfect—you’re perfect” he gasped, feeling your breasts, playing and pinching your nipple.

You heard—read that all the time, but coming from Minho you felt it was true. Minho was there, looking to take advantage of touching every inch of any sensitive spot of yours, you couldn’t even notice his intentions for getting naked, but you also longed to see his naked body. He delighted in every moan that came out of you after he tried a little hard on your nipples.

Before you could make a playful move with Minho’s sweater so he could take it off, Minho’s mouth on your breast unhinged you in seconds. He ran his tongue delicately in circular motions over your nipple moistening it and making it more sensitive, sucking and biting your skin, completely reveling himself in one and doing the same process on your other breast as his hand went back to gently mistreating your other sensitive organ. You took the opportunity to touch his hair, it was so soft and fell gracefully over his handsome face, he looked up, making a little eye contact as his naughty mouth played with you.

His dirty and erotic kisses and caresses began to move down your body, caressing your abdomen, Minho adored the softness of it, finely running his fingertips across your skin and brushing the tip of his straight nose, so delicately as if it was the most fragile thing about you, causing you to uncontrollably pleasure and gasp in satisfaction as you felt and thought that he was getting closer and closer to your sensitive center.

You stirred your legs to feel your wetness rubbing up to your folds, getting more and more excited at the thought of being touched there. Minho finally took off your skirt, smiling at the sight of your girlish panties, he must have known, you were still younger than him after all, the idea went to his head, a cute and cuddly young girl just for him.

“Hello Kitty” he said amused, running the back of his finger along your slick, making you sigh, “You’re so sweet, honey, you’re the sweetest.”

You looked at him with mock displeasure but your face changed in seconds as you felt his fingers press against your clit. Minho chuckled softly.

“Look at the little kitty, is a mess, you left her so wet, baby…” he said again playfully, running two of his fingers on your slick.

His pun was fun. It was true, you were so wet, so aroused almost sweating just in sexual desire, the thin fabric of your panties was soaked and Minho enjoyed seeing you so needy for him. He admired your body and position, lying back with your heavy breathing, eyes shining, breasts exposed, foreplayed nipples and your sweet Hello Kitty panties attached to your folds by your wetness. Minho became even more aroused.

“You are so beautiful, my dear and I’m not just saying that because you are like this, naked in front of me” he gently placed his body over you and teased you with his hand on your clit and his hot breath between your neck and ear, he whispered, “You are truly beautiful. I adore you.”

Your cheeks grew flushed hot. The low tone in his voice, his words and him caressing you were the whole damn package of how to have you attracted in seconds.

He brought his face close to yours again, almost looking for a kiss but he was just teasing you. You were speechless, his big dark eyes were so enigmatic. It was your best sexual encounter so far, there was so much chemistry and connection between you.

“Minho” you finally said, biting your lip nervously, “I want to see you naked too.”

He raised an eyebrow and smiled amused.

“Whatever the princess asks.”

He removed himself on top of you, standing on the floor with his knees touching the edge of your bed. You sat on the bed quickly to get a closer view of him undressing. You bit your lip and Minho proceeded to undress, removing his sweater, tousling his pretty black hair a bit and relieving his warm masculine scent. You admired his bare chest, his broad shoulders, worked and smoothly muscled arms where you could see his veins running down to his attractive hands, his shapely pecs and his smooth but firm worked-up abdomen. You fell more and more for Minho.

His hands reached the button of his jeans and you couldn’t resist not touching him, you finely ran your fingers over a scar he had near his navel and looked him in the eyes, almost wanting to ask just with your eyes —a scar he got because he was stabbed— and you put your hands over his and he let you do it right away. You caressed a bit of his big bulge on top of the denim and now you fixed your eyes there, you pulled it down desperately to see also the bulge in his underwear to then subtly lick your lips and finally pull his boxers down to see his erection, you almost sighed thinking why he looked so good, absolutely everything about Minho looked good, his smooth pubic skin all the way to the incredible sight of his big veiny cock which you held and played with, your thumb caressing his glans glistening in his precum, feeling his erect throbbing organ engorged in sex, you thought he had the best cock you had ever seen, even better than the ones that make money on that, Minho was like a hidden diamond, you still didn’t believe he could be single looking like that.

“Fuck, baby” he moaned enjoying your hands on his cock, but then gently removed them, “It feels so good but it's your turn, sweetheart, get comfortable I want to touch you and make you feel, good, okay?”

You nodded submissively and slid backwards until you reached your pillows. Minho finished removing his clothes completely and moved lustfully closer to you, pulled off your panties and approached your wet center with a smug smile. He dropped his body to the bed, his abdomen and hard cock pressed against it to position himself between your legs, he entwined your thighs in his strong arms and his lips went straight to your pubic skin to deposit soft kisses until he looked into your eyes and took the opportunity to view your body from that angle, with his hot, heaving breath hitting your core, then he looked at your glistening pussy just before he dipped his pretty face into you. He caught your clit making you moan and shiver, you needed it already and it was feeling so good.

Minho caressed your body while his mouth did all the dirty delicious work all over your pussy, his hands ran over your thighs, your abdomen, gently squeezed your breasts and so on as he sucked your clit and ran his tongue over your labia and got lost in your taste and how satisfying it was having you moaning. You stroked his hair again and his tongue entwined between your pussy lips and when he felt you desperate and highly aroused almost at your peak, he brought his hands to your pussy, sliding them all over your slick and then penetrating your lubricated entrance in a rhythm that only teased you.

You were so close to your first orgasm, the rhythm of his fingers in you was slow and enticing that it was making you tremble, and the tension in your stomach ached for release. He played with your clit once more as his fingers filled you and you felt a slight vibration in your sensitive spot, Minho moaned with a vein in his neck visible that his body did not resist and he cum just like that, just by touching you.

He pulled slightly away from you and looked admiringly at your aroused body.

“You like that, huh, baby?” his voice made you shudder, “Or do you like it rough?”

His fingers began to move roughly in you while with his other hand he played with the rest of your pussy slowly, you whimpered arching your back, you were being so stimulated, the difference of rhythms in you hastened your orgasm.

“Yes, yes, Minho, ple—”

You couldn’t even speak, your entrance felt full and used and your whole pussy was treated to perfection that your body reached its maximum release, collapsing in your orgasm.

You tried to catch your breath, but Minho didn’t end there, he got hard again and savored every part of your orgasm by shamelessly swiping his warm, wide tongue, making you enjoy and aroused again this time slightly calmer, humming soft “Mmm”, but the pace of things escalated as you felt his tongue to thrust through your insides and you felt stimulated again.

“Fuck, Minho, let-let me touch you now” you moaned.

You wanted to touch and please him as much as he did you and you obviously wanted to feel him too.

“Okay” he replied softly with an adorable smile that made him show his teeth.

You noticed semen on your sheets and on Minho’s cock and bit your lip. He licked his lips and wiped his mouth to gently position himself on top of you and rub his hard erection on your labia. You blubbered, looking down at the action and returning your gaze to his piercing eyes. You whimpered. And you were happy to be able to make as much noise as you wanted if he dared to fuck you with his well-endowed cock, you had no neighbors, the one in 221 was on a business trip and you were having a very hot encounter with your other neighbor.

“You know what… from now on I can help you with whatever you need, from the smallest thing, you can tell me” Minho spoke softly as he stroked your hair, “Even if it’s that you need help in your videos or when you don’t want to feel alone.”

You were both satisfied, cuddling after having the hottest and dirtiest sex, while tenderly wearing his sweater.

You caught his comment as tender as you watched his bare chest rise and fall from his quiet breathing as you had your cheek resting on it, but the tender moment faded as you realized the intent of his comment… did he mean he wanted to be a part of your videos? Your sex videos.

That’s exactly what he meant. You didn’t think twice.

Filming time with Minho was one of your favorite moments. Another one of your favorite moments was when you spent some nice quality time with him and he would hold you and kiss you tenderly while looking at you with purity…. but your little alone time recording was something that nothing could compare to, it was your little moment of fun, your little twisted and kinky game that started with nervous laughter and developed little by little to show a taste of Lee Minho’s nature, he being the mastermind behind the sex tapes that included him developing an almost in him dominant character, the one he liked to treat you with during sex.

Your idea was not to show Minho’s face, you both agreed on that and first you would start with something so common and typical to know people’s response to the appearance of a new character to your videos, so your first sexual activity recorded and uploaded was a video of a popular and classic blowjob you had done to Minho.

You joked, saying that people loved oral sex videos with the man receiving and, by people you meant mostly horny men who would pay money to see you, so it was a win-win, you would blow Minho for pleasure because you liked doing it, he would enjoy it and you would get money for it.

And your first kind of recorded encounter was in your room, Minho sitting on the edge of your bed and first you started to get aroused without cameras recording, for Minho it was not hard to get an erection, you were wearing a nice lingerie so revealing that it didn’t leave much to the imagination, all your mons pubis and nipples were transparent in the thin pastel pink lace fabric, you had done your makeup and hair beautifully so you just laid on top of him, who was only wearing his underwear, you started kissing passionately, touching each other’s body and you grinding his cock with your core, when both of you were already panting but especially Minho and when you felt his real firmness in him, it was time for the show.

You got off on top of him, Minho had to take off his underwear and leave them absolutely out of the shot, you had two angles to film, one directly that Minho will hold and another angle that you had set up to look sideways and show your kneeling body and Minho’s lower body.

You were nervous and excited, you had done it before but it had not been filmed, you fixed your hair, put lip gloss back on and took a last look at your makeup and returned your view to Minho completely naked with his big erect cock, nervously taking the cell phone, it was weird, but hot. You started recording from the side angle and approached him. You stood on your tiptoes to give him one last kiss before getting completely on your knees in front of his erection. Minho bit his lip and sighed in a half-hearted, excited sigh.

A video of you sucking his cock would live forever on the internet… and he couldn’t be happier about it. It was dirty and vicious, Minho adored it.

“I want you to make as much noise as you want, be yourself and enjoy it, don’t be completely silent like the boring man in porn videos looking like a zombie, please. Besides… some women love men moaning and yours sound so good though.”

Minho smiled adorably showing his front teeth and relaxing his body.

“Got it” he replied.

You nodded your head giving him the signal to start filming, he adjusted the cell phone holding it with his right hand and as soon as it recorded, he gave you a tender signal with his thumb of his left hand. You smiled looking into his eyes and finally took his cock between your hands to start jerking him off, playing with his cock and stroking his tip while looking innocently at the camera from time to time. Minho bit his lip hard, trying not to gasp in just the first few seconds of the video.

You looked up, but instead of seeing the camera, you saw Minho’s body and face, weakening you and making your pussy explode in tingles and twinges of excitement, he made you so crazy and needy. Minho looked so good like that, naked, watching you from above with his dominating presence, biting his lip, his veiny hands holding your pink cell phone and hyper-feminine decorated. Your eyes sparkled at the sight of him and that was something the camera managed to capture.

You began licking his cock, playing with his balls, tentatively inserting his tip into your mouth and licking it to savor every sensation of his soft, sensitive glans with his precum. Minho was doing his best to keep his hand steady but he gave in little by little and moaned as you began to thrust his length into your cavity, he grabbed your hair, his veiny manly hand drove crazy more than one who watched your video and Minho captured to perfection the messy shot of his thick length entering your mouth.

What followed were long, pleasurable minutes of the most angelic blowjob Minho ever had; it was your makeup smearing a bit, your tears coming out, your face begging for mercy and drooling as you enjoyed every moment, and a breathless Minho completely aroused, fucking your mouth and tentatively reaching down your throat to climax inside your cavity, but the video didn’t stop there. Minho rubbed your lips and pretty face with his glans gently coated in his semen and in a desperate act he began to masturbate, overstimulating himself again; you understood and helped him to bring him to his second orgasm, this time a cumshot straight to your cheek, you smiled happily.

With the video saved, Minho helped you wipe the cum off your face with a tender smile and giggles, then kissed passionately again, turned your body and fucked your wet, throbbing pussy hard as you held on to your bathroom sink, while he held on to your hips and played with your breasts with you enjoying being fucked in front of the mirror.

The video of you blowing Minho was a hit and as expected, people wanted more of the mysterious man with the nice cock, sexy hands and cute moans.

So you and Minho had some fun giving them exactly what they wanted.

He had the idea of dominating you in bed and having his voice make an appearance, recording your ass being pounded until it was red and sore, turning Minho on too much with your throbbing pain and whimpers. He would treat your entrance hard, penetrating it harshly and overstimulating you bringing you to orgasm after orgasm as his arm fell heavily on your back limiting your movement. Minho babbled little derogatory nicknames at you, whispering, “You like that, huh, little slut?”, treating you rough. You didn’t know where that idea came from, maybe a little fantasy he had, but it pleased you so much, you were a mess, tears in your eyes, your body agitated, pussy throbbing and soaking wet without stopping being used by Minho even for a second.

Then he got the idea to tape you having a 69 which aroused every one of your senses, your pussy was already stimulated but you couldn’t stop, it was like you were ovulating the whole damn time you were with him. You sat on his face and rode him, his mouth pleasuring you and his sharp nose pressing exquisitely into your core.

It was your little adventure play that just kept getting better and better.

Then it was time for your livestream, you had been missing it since you met Minho… but you didn’t want to do it alone this time and having sex with him live would be risky, so he ordered you to do everything just like you used to do it, only this time he would be behind the camera, giving you little instructions, watching you pleasuring yourself.

You looked at Minho amused, the idea that he could just stand there watching you was too much of a turn-on for you. You started to transmit, as usual, wearing tender and provocative lingerie that when you used to be so excited you ended up taking it off completely. You bit your lip, spreading your legs, and placed the vibrator on your clit, instantly moaning more excited with the idea that Minho was watching you sitting behind the led ring light.

His cock throbbed, and he analyzed every part of you, bringing back memories of when he did it that night from his window. Your panties were already a mess, you were overstimulating yourself. You pulled the fabric of your panties away from your folds and inserted two fingers inside you, glancing at Minho from time to time.

He bit his lip but kept a serious and penetrating gaze, studying every part of you.

“Take the other toy and ride it, ride it until you cum.”

Minho suddenly ordered you and his look and voice made you shudder. You took with some embarrassment the realistically shaped dildo and did exactly as he instructed, sliding it inside you still with your panties on and starting to ride it so that you could appreciate the dirty act of the toy filling your insides; you whimpered in pleasure, you were leaving a mess on your sheet and you looked with an expression of joy at Minho, missing him, wishing it was his the cock you were riding and a stupid toy.

Minho licked his lips at the sight… there was something about you, you were particularly more aroused and needy than the last time he saw you do the livestream.

“Cum, princess, do it faster, make yourself cum.”

His voice made your nipples erect and you kept sliding up and down on the stiff toy that filled your walls and whimpered as you looked back at Minho and fell into a roaring orgasm, for the first time you had forgotten the glamour of cumming, the orgasm had been so real and more so looking into Minho’s eyes, hearing his voice and fantasizing, usually you would try to be all pretty girl, moaning cute and cumming prettily, showing off your collection of your toys glistening in your fluids but now all you could think about was Minho and how every inch of you was madly aroused.

Your makeup was starting to get ruined, your hair was slightly tousled, and every emotion of yours was feeling so real that your live was being a hit but all you wanted was for Minho to finish it once and for all and fuck you.

“Now show everyone your beautiful pussy, sweetie” he ordered you and you did, pulling aside the fabric of your panties and showing your swollen and wet pussy folds, “Shit, you are the most beautiful doll, sweetie. Spread your folds apart, show them what’s mine.”

You blushed following his orders and watched as he lowered the cell phone further and gave it a little zoom to bring your pussy more into focus. Minho moved closer to you, his face not coming out in the shot and took your vibrator and dildo and continued your pleasure and light torture by stimulating you. He penetrated you quickly and roughly with the dildo while pressing the head of the vibrator into your clit making you frantic.

“It’s mine, honey?” he said dominantly, watching your body collapse in pleasure, nothing could take away his smug smile, for having you at his disposal and for being the one who was touching you while thousands of idiots were just fantasizing behind a screen.

“Y-yes, yes. Fuuck, Mi-, I need you. Please” you whimpered in desperation.

“Beg for more, tell me how much you want it.”

You swallowed saliva and took a big gasping breath on the verge of collapse. Still, all you could think about was him, the feel of his body on top of yours, pushing against your body, and the wet, hot, pleasurable sensation of his pumping, real sex inside you that missed every inch and vein of him.

“Please, please, please, I need you, fuck me…. Lee.”

You didn’t even know whether to call him Minho as it was risky and Lee was still a common first name for other people. He smiled, smug and satisfied, pulling the dildo out of you and turning off the vibrator, making you moan.

“The live is over.”

Minho ended the live quickly with no problem, took off his pants and boxers and then proceeded to yank your panties off in a tug to approach you and finally take you, gently inserting his big, erect cock into you and began frantically pounding your pussy in a hard, body smashing rhythm. He caressed your breasts with his hands and then brought his right hand up to your neck subtly cutting off your breath. You felt so pathetically aroused, you cum twice on his cock penetrating your insides and tickling all the way to your cervix and after your second intense orgasm, Minho finally came to his orgasm too, happily filling every drop of his cum inside you. Minho was a fan of your quivering, used pussy gently releasing his cum so he once again enjoyed the show that left you tired and full.

You were just his in so many ways.

After that you asked him if he could treat you the same without cameras around to which he was very happy with your request.

Minho had to return to his own little hell. His own job. He had a new mission to take care of so he would be out of town for days and he didn‘t want to leave you but he had to. Everything was going so well with him that you missed him, you wanted to invite him on a little trip together with the money earned and you fantasized again about filming the act, it was so dirty and risky, you loved the adrenaline and pleasure Minho made you feel.

When you asked Minho what his job was he answered somewhat coldly and curtly that he was a private detective and quickly changed the subject, you felt a shiver but you understood perfectly, that he didn’t want to talk about it.

While Minho left, your other neighbor Han Jisung had arrived from a long business trip and upon meeting you in the hallway invited you into his apartment which you accepted since you were supposed to be friends but it was more than obvious that Jisung wanted you a little more than just for that.

Jisung untied his tie, tossing it onto his couch.

“I’m exhausted, do you want something to drink?” he expressed.

You shook your head and once you were inside you questioned what you were doing there.

“Mmm I have to go” you said suddenly.

Jisung laughed.

“You just walked in, beautiful. Everything okay?”

You nodded, “I forgot I was kind of busy with something…”

He grimaced, “Too bad for me, I was hoping we could talk a little, the trip was long and tiring.”

You felt bad, you didn’t see Jisung with other eyes than friendship, you recognized that he was handsome and maybe the most wanted bachelor, young and billionaire… but you didn’t try anything because the idea of him dating someone like you was absurd and now you had Minho and he was everything you were looking for, someone you can have a relationship with and be so sexually open with each other, someone who would love you for who you were, you wanted to feel loved despite your little mistakes.

“It’s okay, I can stay for a while.”

He smiled.

“What’s up? What movie do you want to watch today? I’ll order some dinner, do you want anything?”

After a while you were both eating dinner, in absolute confidence, feeling comfortable with each other.

“Someone moved into 225,” you said.

“Mm… who?”

“Lee Minho, he’s cute, we’re dating.”

Jisung was about to joke with you but the name seemed familiar.

“What’s his name?”

“Lee Minho. He lives alone.”

“Lee Minho…?” Jisung visualized his face, but thought it was coincidence, he still asked, “A young man with black hair and big eyes? Do you have a picture of him?”

“Do you know him?”

His poor description sounded so much like Minho that you showed him a picture, surprising Jisung.

“Wow, that’s weird, he lives in the building across the street, not this one… Well, maybe he just moved in. He’s a tough and lonely guy, he’s kind of scary, he’s a fucking hitman or so my dad’s friends say.”

You blinked in puzzlement at the sudden information.

“What?”

“Yeah, I don’t know too much about him just that he lived across the street and his job is kind of heavy.”

That left you thinking too much and you took the opportunity to find out on your own, but you couldn’t do too much since you couldn’t get to the apartment and they flatly refused to give you information about him, so you returned somewhat confused back to your building, you knew exactly Minho’s entry code from the apartment next to yours since you pretended not to see him every time he did but you got to memorize it… entering was so wrong but you couldn’t help it and you did it, you also had that curiosity in you and you remembered even the smallest details, like Minho told you that he didn’t installed security cameras inside his apartment yet and that he would do it coming back from his business trip, so if he was telling the truth, nobody knew you were sneaking in there in the dark.

You entered his room, with the feeling of curiosity in your chest, you felt that Minho knew everything about you, but you knew little about him. You knew his name, his age, you half knew his job… you knew he was a good man, cute and attentive but why you still felt deep in you the question of who is Lee Minho.

His room was just as you remembered it, you weren't looking for anything specific but you had an unsettling feeling of wanting to find something but you were already beginning to feel that you were effectively trespassing on Minho’s property so you were about to leave, but the drawer in the cabinet to the side on his bed half open caught your attention, everything looked in order but that precise piece of furniture made the tidy room look as if Minho had been in a hurry and left that little detail, so you approached it and found inside what looked like a pink book, a specific shade of pastel pink which is your favorite color, you took it innocently thinking that maybe it could be a gift for you and you could see immediately that it was a photo album; you were disconcerted for a second, the feeling of uneasiness returned to you and impatiently opened the book, you could not see well so you illuminated it with the flashlight of your cell phone and as soon as you saw it you were perplexed and with the frightening sensation of an agonizing cold taking hold of your body.

Your eyes moved in terror and surprise… they were pictures of you sleeping… why? Why would Minho do such a thing? Why are they pictures of you from your room? What kind of psycho was he?

Your heart skipped a beat and you felt fear and disappointment as you immediately thought that Minho was not the kind of guy you thought he was and that he was obviously a weirdo. The angles of the pictures made you shiver, you weren’t such a heavy sleeper that you didn’t realize someone was watching you but just the thought that he used to come into your house at night… it was something you never thought would happen. You were paralyzed, thinking whether to take the album and leave, confront Minho, or leave it there… now you were even more curious about what else he might be hiding.

You slowly stepped back in fear and shock, you had no idea who Minho really was, your mind was filled with thoughts but suddenly you felt your back collide with a rigid body that you knew exactly whose body it was.

You turned your body and a mysterious gust of a cold breath of wind blew through your body. You met Minho with a serious look and expression, with a face so serious that you had never seen on him before. You got more scared, thinking how the hell he had gotten there if he didn’t even make the slightest noise, you were so scared, you wanted so many answers, in your little madness you thought he might even be a ghost.

But Lee Minho was so real, a human with tendencies different from the established, but he was still normal or at least that’s what he tried to convince himself… suddenly you felt petrified before his presence, anything could happen right there and now you felt helpless.

But of one thing Minho was sure, that his heart broke when he saw that peculiar look on your face when you saw him. And he who only expected you to look at him with love all the time. You looked at him with terror and panic, a petrifying look that only those movies you used to watch with him could reflect in the real world. Why? What was really happening?

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wandascrush · 5 months ago

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Welcome to the world

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Pain, birth, crying, water breaking

Cold sweat lined your forehead when you opened your eyes, adjusting to the darkness in the room. You flung your sheets off the bed and sat up, immediately holding your tender belly. You felt nauseous, cramped up, and sweaty- the worst combo. Immediately, you waddled over to the restroom, splashing cold water on your face and taking shallow breaths in and out. Phew- you were calming down, everything was okay. Just the normal symptoms when your 38 weeks, nothing new.

You hoped the warm light pouring into the bedroom wouldn’t wake up your exhausted wife that only got four hours of sleep the night before, tending to your early morning sickness. You felt bad but hey, you were equal, it’s not like you got any sleep either with this little one growing inside you. You finished drying your face off with a towel and drinking some water through the sink when you decide to head back to bed and try to get more rest, it was probably just some Braxton hicks pains. That is until you felt a gush of water down your legs, your water broke

“Nat-,” she didn’t even stir. You gripped the side of the door frame, hands turning red as you groaned out in pain, “Natty!”

Two hours later you were in a delivery room, damp with sweat and a worried, but excited, wife holding your hand. The hospital lights flooded your vision as nurses and doctors came in and out, checking your dilation.

Tender lips brushed the top of your head, “Shhhh detka, this is the moment we’ve been waiting for, just a little earlier than planned. Breathe, that’s it, in and out, just like that sweetheart,” and when you looked into her eyes you’d never seen so much love from another human. Your stomach immediately cramped again, pain washing over you as you closed your eyes and took shaky breaths out loud.

Clint was on his way with Laura, the future uncle and aunt of your child, speeding down the highway. Steve, your baby's future Godfather, was two hours away picking up flowers for you, a teddy bear for your little one, and candy for Natty and himself. The rest of the group was getting back from a mission overseas, no doubt they would miss the birth, but you knew they’d be there ASAP.

The warm glow of the bright lights kept you up, even as you tried to shut out all other senses. Closing your tired eyes and imagining what the cries of your baby would be like was the only thing that brought you comfort. Once the pain subsided and nurses stopped poking and prodding you, images of your new family of three eased your mind.

Natasha was right by your side, rubbing your back through the pain and nausea, dabbing your forehead with a cold compress for the hot flashes and feeding you ice chips. In this moment she swore to herself you’d never looked so beautiful. You were her dream come true. All three of you. An hour later your redhead had to step out to update Maria and Fury on what was going on.

At first, sure Fury was disappointed to lose one of his best agents for a couple months for maternity leave- but he couldn’t hide his excitement either.

Laura’s sweet gaze was above you in the meantime, gently lifting your head up to press cold compresses on your neck and chest.

“Hey momma, how’re we holding up?” She grabbed some water for you and adjusted your pillow.

“Well, for starters I feel like a tiny human is kickboxing with my insides…so right on point I’d say.” You tried to sit up on your elbows, wriggling your way through the copious amounts of hospital sheets.

It felt like hours before the nurses gave you the go-ahead to start pushing. You had never been so glad for any decision like the decision to get an epidural during delivery. Was it still painful? Hell yes. But did it hurt a lot less? Also, hell yes. Natasha felt useless watching you, not being able to help. It was like being stabbed in the chest every time she heard you scream or start to cry. The best she could do was not keel in pain when you practically broke her hand from squeezing it so hard. And then- in a magical instant- she was here.

Mae Lena Romanoff.

This beautiful, new child you just delivered was crying and being wrapped in a blanket.

You and your wife’s biggest dream had arrived and she was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. Her nose was the same as her momma’s, with your e/c eyes. She had a full head of brownish-reddish hair like Natasha’s, damp on her small head. You couldn’t help yourself from crying, sobbing really, as you looked at this little doll in your arms. And as you looked up at Natasha, she was crying too.

The nurses started cleaning you up and doing all the usual routines after giving birth, making sure not only your baby was healthy but yourself as well. Natasha took the baby in her arms and sat by you, marveling at this little joy she created with her wife. Her gentle arms cradled the baby close to her ear as she whispered to her, “Welcome to the world, little one. As long as I’m here, no one will hurt you. Not ever.”

An hour later the room was filled with Clint, Laura, their kids, and Steve. All of them gently stroked the baby’s head, cooing and “awww”ing. You held her close and pointed to everyone in the room, “That’s your Uncle Clint, he’s going to teach you how to shoot a bow and arrow. And that’s your Auntie Laura, one of the best people you’ll ever meet. Those are your cousins that are going to play with you until you’re all grown up. And that right there, is Steve. The best Godfather anyone could ask for. Later on you’ll meet Tony and Pepper, they’ll get you into so many adventures. We’re all going to love you so much, sweet baby. ” If you could freeze this perfect moment in time, you absolutely would. You knew that as long as you had Natasha, your daughter, and this village to help raise her- your family would always be okay.

#natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female #natalia romanoff #natalia romanova

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reflection-s-of-stars · 8 months ago

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One really subtle, fun thing about the locked tomb is how they talk about “generalist” necromancy.

Judith says in Cohort Intelligence Files that Abigail’s necromancy is “generalist,” though we later find out her real skill lies with spirits. No matter how true it is, this is one of a few things in CIF that paint Abigail as a less-than-stellar necromancer (another one is the idea that her political power is what sets her apart from the others).

So “generalist” necromancy is seen as less advanced than a specialization, like Harrow’s in bone or Ianthe’s in flesh.

You don’t see a ton of that in fantasy media. In A:TLA, normal benders like Katara, Toph and Zuko are far less powerful than Aang, because he can bend all four elements. In Aurora (my favorite ever webcomic that you should all read), Erin has more prestige than any other living mage because he can do every type of magic. The Owl House shows wild witches like Eda, who do multiple kinds of magic, to be outlaws and outcasts. I could go on.

The reason fantasy authors do this is because they want to present magic as a skill/ability, whether it’s inherent or learned. It’s like sports or an instrument: the more you practice, the more things you can do, and the more things you can do, the better you’re considered.

And that’s the big difference between these examples and the Locked Tomb: instead of a skill to learn, TLT presents necromancy as an academic field.

In academia, specialization (like a college major, or being a specific kind of doctor) is common and expected. You’re encouraged to dive deep into one area of expertise, rather than being a jack-of-all-trades. That’s what necromancy is.

“Yes, Pent is a ridiculously powerful political force and talks to ghosts on a regular basis, but she’s a generalist. Not like Ianthe, who’s good at flesh magic!”

It’s really subtle, but it adds to the tonal blend of sci-fi and fantasy that helps make TLT so cool.

#soph’s posts #the locked tomb #Tlt #tlt analysis #tlt meta #Just had an idea and had to share!#Also. Read Aurora. Please it’s so good

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neat-crows · 9 months ago

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So I've been re-watching dr who for the first time ever rn, with a friend who's never seen it before, so I'm seeing all these episodes for the first time since I was 13 and picking up on a LOT that I never noticed before, and holy shit the tenth doctor is SO WEIRD to Martha Jones, and nothing exemplifies that more than the sontaran stratagem/the poison sky.... like..... he is SO weird the whole way down.

When they first see each other again their introduction directly mirrors Jack and The Doctor's in Utopia

"Doctor" "martha Jones" laugh and hug

"doctor" "captain Jack" laugh and hug

And then! they have a normal interaction!!! WIN he asks how her family is and how she is, and they're smiling and genuinely seem like friends very happy to see each other!

And then.... donna drops the fiance bomb.

He turns with a look of.... almost anger? disbelief? and asks WHAT MAN?? Then martha explains who he is and the doctor....

he looks? upset? and then like, resigned? AND THEN martha admits that her fiance is kind of similar to the doctor, and then donna asks "Is he skinny?" and his reactions

is to make a face like "yeahh" AND START NODDING????? like he's taken Martha's admission to mean she's with a man that's just like him, and honestly seems a bit smug over it, and then when Martha says no-

he looks so taken off guard and betrayed ??????????? BRO we are less than 5 minutes in..............

He then proceeds to be tetchy with her, and to be fair this is mostly because of her involvement with unit, and his discomfort with how militaristic she's gotten - which I think comes both from anger at himself for how he's changed her, and also discomfort that she's no longer "his" Martha, she's changed, and he doesn't know her as well anymore.

he tells her off, he's snide and judgmental, he won't even look at her until she tells him to, and he's honestly bitchy - Until she explains herself, and tells him off for being so judgmental, i also think his line "oh so it's my fault" is very telling because..... it literally is? like yes, you put her in situations where she had to become harder and more used to violence......... and he KNOWS it. He's doing what he did all through series 3, which is feel guilty or bad and then take it out on Martha (that's for another post though) until she stands up for herself (get his ass!!) and then when she's finished she looks at him

determined, but eyes darting back and forth waiting for his reaction, on some small level hoping for his approval

and only THEN does he start to smile, and he tells her "that sounds more like Martha Jones." she's back to feeling like she's still his (to him, Martha is acting incredibly normal and platonic). The doctor has always had a weird possessiveness with Martha, going all the way back to their first episode where he hand picked her, and in this second of her looking for his approval, he feels that again, and he IMMEDIATELY started flirting again - please go watch the scene it boggles my mind how fast he switches.

I also want to be clear, Martha isn't flirting back, she's acting extremely normally. She's clearly taken the time away from him to get over, not only romantic feelings, but any anger as well. She seems to have come to terms with how she feels with everything that happened, and she loves and cares about him, but she's not naive to his faults - I also don't think she even picks up on him being weird to her in this scene. She's no longer in tune with his every mood swing, she's not here to fix him, or cater to his needs, and so she no longer notices these small moments from him.

AND THEN.... the clone.

He never flirts with the clone. The ONLY time, is the very first time they interact, before he's realized something is wrong.

he calls her over to come with him, and his face is honestly way too close to hers. bro is a menace. but then, maybe 2 minutes later, he immediately clocks that this is not Martha.

he realizes there has to be a spy and only has to consider for half a second before he turns and asks about her family, he's already realized she's acting a little off, and the second she answers he's 100% certain.

and he gets MAD. he tells her Donna went home because she's not like her, she's not "a soldier" clearly a shot at the sontarans, but also another subtle test, the real Martha wouldn't let that slide, and he wouldn't say that to the real Martha. He continues saying Avanti, instead of Allonse-y, which is interesting, because he already knows. He's not doing this to confirm his suspicions, he's doing this as retaliation. To confirm to himself he knows Martha better than this fake, he's toying with her. BUT. He doesn't go to save Martha.

The next episode, the doctor's daughter, he refuses to accept the label of soldier, but Jenny rightfully points out that he strategizes like one And this is one such moment. He knows Martha is a clone, he's mad and upset, he could go save her right away, but he doesn't. He doesn't because it serves him best to allow her to keep shutting down the nuclear launch.

It reminds me a lot of when Cassandra possessed Rose in New Earth, he played a long for a little bit, but that was just to figure out what was happening. He IMMEDIATELY tried to fix it, I just wonder if it was any other companion if he would have done this. If it was Donna would he have left her for so long? even if it was strategic? it's this weird conflict the doctor has now that he's very very protective and a bit possessive, but he also treats her like an equal on the battlefield, and it's a weird... trust? he has in her to take care of herself.

I kind of don't want to call it trust because that sounds too positive, but I don't know another way to phrase it, but it's a forced independence and self sufficiency.

but then, he finally goes to save her

He goes and cradles her face gently, and NOTABLY says "good, still alive" MEANING HE DIDN'T KNOW??? and still left her for that long...

but he holds her gently, and fully ignores the clone. He has his back to her, and then proceeds to taunt her. He tells her he clocked her right away because of the pupil size, thin hair, and he says she smells. but we know this isn't true.

Sure maybe those physical traits are true, but that's not how he figured it out, we saw how he did it, he clocked on because he knows Martha so well, but he can't admit that. He can't admit that he knows her just as much as she knows him, just like he couldn't tell Rose he loved her.

He is so deeply angry at this clone, he makes fun of her, he yells at her, he looks at her likes she's nothing

This is his face when he kills her. He doesn't talk to her, or even TRY to save her. And we know she is alive, she has memories, and her own thoughts and feelings, and the doctor kills her while gloating because of his immense anger for hurting Martha. An anger that is also guilt.

he does not speak to her like a person (which directly leads into his treatment of Jenny in the next ep).

Parallel that to how Martha treats her, they talk about their family and she even calls the clone Martha. She really is a doctor in a way ten tried and often failed at.

And then at the end, Donna asks Martha to come with them, and she says no, and that she's happy at home, but she's better for having traveled and come back.

And the doctor looks at her

With an obvious sadness, but also acceptance. He clearly wants her here, with him, but I think he's finally come to accept that that'll never happen, and he needs to let her go.

Edit: I Like their dynamic(mostly) This is not an anti tenmartha post Him being a freak is compelling

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shankss-magnificent-ass · 7 months ago

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Imagine having deep discussions with the Whitebeard pirates

Ace: Have you ever wondered why the world government opposes people so far away from them, doing what we do?

Marco: [mutters] I wish you would just stop saying odd shit.

Whitebeard: well we're breaking the law, obviously.

You: It's a little deeper than that. It's because what many pirates do, is the same thing the world government does.

Marco: We are not similar in any way.

You: no, think about it, what does the world government do? They lay out a bunch of rules and if you don't follow them, they use violence to force most of the world into following them. And if a nation elects not to join the world government, or can't afford to join, they raid and pillage those islands and take their citizens as slaves.

Izou: On the other hand, if a nation does join the world government, they have to pay heavenly tributes, because if they don't, the Marines will raid and pillage your country. But if they pay the heavenly tributes, the marines will protect their nation from outsiders, like pirates and non-world-government-nations.

Whitebeard: However, on top of paying the heavenly tribute, the average person also pays local and national taxes, so it's a heavy burden for some countries.

Marco: Oh my gods, it's like a protection racket, that common thugs run, just on a massive scale.

Whitebeard: and, like many pirates.

You: they don't like pirates, for the same reason they don't like common thugs, because you all are muscling in on their turf.

Thatch: so most governments are just organized, and socially acceptable, thuggery.

You: Not all, look at Alabasta for instance, King Cobra has a lot of social programs for his people. Food programs and affordable housing for the poor. Medical programs that put a doctor in every village and a bunch of other stuff. The people should receive something back from their government besides 'protection'.

Ace: I know a lot of nations that are in the world government have a large lower class that they exploit labor from and bleed them dry with taxes, tolls, and fines. I can never forget what I saw at the Grey Terminal out of the Goa Kingdom's Great Gate.

Thatch: That's because in "normal society" they value wealth, and look down on and take advantage of people who don't have it. Meanwhile, in pirate culture, we value strength and look down on and take advantage of those who are weaker, like how we raid other crew's ships because we can, and they can't stop us.

Izou: [sighs] That's an oversimplification If I ever heard one.

Thatch: [steps into Izou's space bubble.] You got something to say to me?

Izou: I've been to both world-government nations and non-world-government nations, and I can tell you that they value both strength and wealth. It's just different classes value one over the other. The upper and more privileged class values wealth, and daintiness because they can hire the strong. While the less privileged value strength, because it helps them survive, because they don't have money.

Thatch: I know that, did you forget I grew up poor as shit, mister little daimyo's vassal-boy.

Izou: And I was a wandering beggar minstrel before that, also keep Oden's name out of your mouth.

Thatch: how about you fucking make me?

Marco: [hops between the two men and dramatically claps his hands together like a clapperboard.] Aaand scene, that was a brilliant performance, gentlemen.

Ace: it was almost hard to tell that you two are actually friends.

Thatch: [huffs] Alright, I'll take it back, I'm sorry Izou.

Izou: I'm sorry too

You: you all are too fighty.

Ace: bitch, you're the most stab happy out of all of us.

You: I am not

Whitebeard: Just last night, you stabbed Vista's hand with a fork because he kept reaching over your plate.

You: ... I did do that, but only after asking him to stop three times. Which is more than reasonable, he's a grown-ass adult, and he, and his fuck ass mustache, should know basic table etiquette by now.

Ace: and then you stabbed me for no reason, with the same fork!

You: that was for good measure, just in case you got any ideas!

List of Up-and-coming works || Master list || Twitter| Kofi || Patreon

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #whitebeard pirates #whitebeard #portgas d ace #fire fist ace #marco #marco the phoenix #marco the pineapple #izou #thatch #from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma original #4/22/24 #no beta we die like men

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davidtennantgenderenvy · 10 months ago

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On David Tennant and Aging

So, I’ve seen a lot of posts in response to Tumblr users’ habit of affectionately calling their favorite middle aged dudes “old men”, David Tennant in particular, saying things like “clearly you’ve never met an actual old person”, “omg you talk about these guys like they’re 80”, “please be normal about people aging”, etc. And on one hand, all of these statements are objectively right and true! But as someone who’s always been really fascinated by and found a lot of beauty in getting older (which I’ve explored in some of my writing on A03 because nobody else is going to do it for me), I’d like to provide a bit more nuance on how I think this label applies to David in particular.

David, obviously, in literal terms, is not “old”, at least not to me- I don’t personally consider people old until they get past 60. 52 is middle aged, simple as that. And yet, when I see David stuck with the “old man” label, it still somehow feels weirdly right, for a number of reasons.

It annoys me so much when people say David “hasn’t aged a day since Doctor Who”, because, well…

He clearly has. A lot. He’s got forehead creases, deep crows’ feet and eyebags, and I think that post-Fourteen we’re gonna see him rocking the grey temples a LOT more. He also has the voice of an older man now, his upper range is still there but the default is much more deep and rich, with a gravelly, rumbling quality that just goes straight through you. I personally think Broadchurch was when David finally started to embrace looking his age- Alec Hardy just wouldn’t have been served by Ten’s fresh-faced boyishness.

Obviously, these are the kinds of changes you’d expect any 52-year-old man to have, but something about David just makes it all seem a bit more… intense? The expressiveness of his face combined with his almost gaunt frame makes his wrinkles very prominent, and when he works his voice to its emotional extremes, his lower register can sound positively ancient, to devastating effect.

David, I think, is someone with an old soul- I don’t think he could be as good as he is at playing ancient characters like Crowley and The Doctor if he weren’t. He has lived so many lives, given so much of himself to so many characters, often incredibly tragic ones, and I think it wears on him. David also has five kids. FIVE. Do you know how exhausting it is to be one of the hardest working actors alive and be a present, loving father to even ONE child? But David somehow does it anyway! Nowadays I see him and my heart breaks because he looks so tired, so weary and fragile. But he’s all the more beautiful for it to me because I know that that is because he is kind. He’s a deeply empathetic person who feels and lives to the absolute fullest, and that story is written so clearly on his face, along with every other story he has ever been a part of.

There’s other things about David that make the label endearingly fitting- his utter hopelessness when it comes to technology, for instance. And he’s just got that warm, wise, grandpa energy too sometimes- look at that above Fourteen picture and tell me I’m wrong!

I once showed my friend who’d only seen David in Doctor Who and Harry Potter a picture of David from Around The World in 80 Days. It was a particularly emotional scene, and his face had just the most beautiful expression of compassion and sadness, every wrinkle on full display. And she said, in a less than complimentary fashion, “he looks so old!” Which, of course, offended me quite a bit at first. But to me, referring to David as old almost feels like a badge of honor, something he’s earned by living fully and selflessly, working hard and being wise and compassionate beyond his years. I think David himself is secretly more than a little insecure about the fact that he’s getting older. There’s sadness behind every jovially self-depreciating remark he’s made about his age in the past year, particularly in comparing himself to Ncuti Gatwa. I know how much David struggles with his impostor syndrome and how people perceive him, and I can clearly see in his eyes the fear of being discarded, the anxiety he feels about if he’ll still be as loved as he was back in 2007 now that he’s closer in age to King Lear than he is to Romeo. So I hope David knows it’s a privilege to watch him grow older, to watch his soul and talents deepen with the crinkles around his eyes. If I, in my silly goofy tumblr girl-ness, call David Tennant an old man, it’s because it’s a label that suits him beautifully- even if it isn’t TECHNICALLY an accurate one yet.

#David tennant #doctor who #the tenth doctor #the fourteenth doctor #good omens #crowley #shakespeare #around the world in 80 days #phileas fogg #pro aging #growing old

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jweekgoji · 26 days ago

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can a Resquest of TFO Sentinel prime with Cybertronian femme reader, that the reader is pregnant and that is her conjux

TFO!Sentinel/Femme!Reader [hcs]

tw: accidental pregnancy, established relationships, Sentinel is a jerk (as usual), yandere!Sentinel, possessive behavior, very brief mention of abortion, narcissistic!Sentinel, OOC (?). terms used: sire - a father, sparkling - a child. word count: 840 words. a/n: the tw sounds scary but it was funny to write.

Oooh no, poor thing, how did you manage to get pregnant by this guy out of everyone? During one of your shared moments of intimacy, you both found out that none of you have any protection! And you two can't get your servos off each other because everything just feels too good, too right? Don't worry, Sentinel is fast enough not to finish inside you, trust him (never trust him with this).

Jokes aside, in my opinion - Sentinel is not a family person at all. Firstly, he's too busy for something insignificant as a family, and secondly, that would mean you are going to pay less attention to him. A whiney, loud, crying mess of a cybertronian is just not something he would dream of.

So if you do end up being pregnant, it was probably an accident.

I imagine Sentinel being a total dumbass about it. Not because he's uneducated about pregnancy, of course not. He's just used to getting laid with one bot and another without any consequences. Usually they don't call back, and even if they do, who the hell would believe them? Sentinel Prime accidentally knocked you up? Sure, we all trust you, hun.

However, he can't just dismiss his own conjunx. That's the moment where he needs a good amount of time to process everything. Sentinel hates the idea that he would not be able to bring you to every fancy meeting, showing you around for everyone to see like you're his luxury item, something everyone can watch but can't touch. Then, he would have to sacrifice his moments of intimacy with you, since you would be too tired, not in the mood, and dangerous for the sparkling.

His possessiveness over his conjunx is incredibly high and even ridiculous. Sentinel probably keeps you in your shared berthroom more than usual, which at first might sound sparkwarming and very caring of him. Like aww, he wants you to rest and not bother about a thing! He's such a good conjunx. In reality, Sentinel is searching through various doctors on Iacon, the ones he can bribe, so not a single word comes out of the room. He doesn't want his people to talk about his personal life behind his back.

Sentinel, obviously, also makes sure no one but him knows about it. Maybe Airachnid gets to know too, but it's not like you can keep something from her, the spider lady most likely knows about your early signs of pregnancy faster than everyone. Faster than Sentinel, lol.

During the early stages of your pregnancy, Sentinel is pretty stressed out himself, even though he doesn't show it at all. Because, what do you mean, he is going to be a sire? When you actually tell him this, he would loudly laugh in your face. You're totally joking, are you? Wait, why aren't you laughing? ...Oh.

When he realizes it's not a joke, that's where he gets serious. I am not going to sugarcoat it, since he might think about getting rid of it. Quietly and painlessly, it is early enough for the process to go smoothly. No one gets to know about it, and by the end of it, you will go back «to normal», and that's perfect for him.

But the more he thinks about it, the more he gets conflicted. What if someone finds out? Sentinel Prime, the great leader of Iacon, got rid of his own sparkling? He can already taste the bitterness on his glossa, when he reads the articles, various comments, his ratings and support from the parties are getting lower and lower. What a nightmare.

But when Sentinel sees you, sleepily wrapping your servos around his arm, nuzzling against his shoulder, so close to him that he can almost hear the faint beat of a spark inside you, he decides to keep it.

He grows prideful through some amount of time. His conjunx, carrying his sparkling. Sentinel sees his sparkling as something of his own too, just like you are his.

It is too early to think about his sparkling being the next ruler of Iacon, his heir, since, well, Sentinel doesn't plan on leaving anytime soon, but he does like the idea of making a tiny some-sort-of-royal-family of his.

For everyone else, Sentinel Prime is the best sire anyone dreams to get. Why wouldn't he, if he's their protective, hardworking leader? In public, this tiny, soon to be growing family is a role model of how every family on Cybertron should be. Inside the closed doors, what you have is not what someone would call «perfect». Sentinel might claim that he loves you, he genuinely loves you and his sparkling, but you would never tell if he's pretending or not. You might just believe him with this one.

#sentinel prime x reader #yandere transformers x reader #yandere transformers #transformers x reader #transformers one x reader #tw yandere #yandere x reader #tfo sentinel prime

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cyborg-franky · 2 months ago

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Thank you @tenzeniths for the support and I hope you enjoy this <3<3 Marco, Ace, Thatch, Izou [POLYAM] x GN Reader with chronic fatigue SFW WC: 1,500

You hated how you felt all the time, your body betraying you at every chance it got You felt tired, exhausted daily. Before you’d taken to the sea it hadn’t been so bad, more of a mild inconvenience but now you were part of one of the strongest and most notorious crews in the world. You really, really noticed it and you knew everyone else could tell you struggled.

Could see how you’d be okay one moment, your normal cheerful self and helping around the place. Either in Marco’s office helping with paperwork or with patients. Helping Thatch in the kitchen with dishes or cooking. You’d go on a mission with Ace, sitting alongside him on his Striker as you checked out a nearby island. Or when you helped Izou teach his division skills on the battlefield.

But after a few hours, sometimes not even that, you’d feel all your energy drained, your ability to keep up, pay attention, or even stand just depleted, and you’d curse yourself and your body for being so useless and weak. You knew you couldn’t help it but that still didn’t make you feel any better. You didn’t feel like an equal to any of your wonderful partners.

Marco

He understood it better than the others. After all he was a doctor. Whenever Marco saw you flagging, the tell-tail signs you were struggling. If you weren’t working with him at the time, and he saw you starting to lose all momentum, he’d ask for your help.

Anything to get you in the office and sat down. He didn’t want you to get hurt where you couldn’t concentrate.

If you were already working with him when you started to feel the fatigue hit, chances were Marco knew before you even felt it fully hit.

“Come sit on the couch,” he’d say with his hands on your shoulders, rubbing soft circles with his thumbs as you sighed, the sound heavy as you looked up at his lop-sided smile and kind eyes. “I’m fine Marco,” you’d fight him on it, not wanting to feel you couldn’t even do something as simple as sitting at a desk and reading. “It’s just paperwork,”

He clicked his tongue and gave you a tsk knowing he was going into doctor mode any second. “It’s still mentally taxing. There is no shame in needing a break yoi.” He said, voice firm as he gently rocked you, urging you to leave the chair and go do as you were told.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” You mumbled and rubbed your forehead, feeling the agitation at yourself growing as you stood. “Don’t be sorry, it’s a medical condition and as much as I appreciate you trying your best, I don’t want you pushing yourself baby bird,” He said and kissed your forehead, leading you to the sofa sitting you down.

“I feel useless,” you added as he fussed over you, getting a blanket to drape over you. “Not useless, never useless yoi.” Marco brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “You keeping me company, that’s all I need.”

“Really?” “Yes, I promise.”

Marco had a way of calming you down. You soon settled and felt yourself drift off into a well-needed nap.

---

Thatch

Less chill about things than Marco.

Will 100% be on your ass about have you eaten today? Do you need a snack? What about water? Are you staying hydrated?

Thatch is the actual mother hen of the four.

If he wasn’t satisfied with the answer, he’d give you this look, tapping his foot but you knew he meant well.

You’d been helping out around the deck that afternoon, trying to at the very least. You sighed and slumped against the mast as you closed your eyes and tried to stop the lightheaded feeling rushing through you as you gripped the handle of the mop tighter, something to ground yourself as you tried to shut the world out.

You could feel it, the way your energy just drained. You’d felt so good this morning that you’d fooled yourself into thinking you could do everything. But now you were paying for such a bold claim as mopping the deck, which had well and truly sapped all you had moments ago.

“Hey pumpkin.” You opened your eyes to see Thatch, and he had a worried expression on his face as he folded his arms over his chest and examined you. “How ya feelin’?” He asked as you shrugged your shoulders. “I’m fine,”

He tsked and gave you a scrutinizing gaze as you practically wobbled in front of him.

“Come get something to eat,”

“I’m fine,” you were stubborn, a trait many of the Whitebeard pirates shared. Thatch sighed and dropped his arms by his sides before he lifted you up effortlessly, slinging you over his shoulder and ignoring your protests.

Soon you were sat in the kitchen as Thatch made you a sandwich, making sure there were veggies and protein to help you perk up.

“You didn’t have to,” you mumbled, feeling bad as he’d obviously spent most of the afternoon prepping for dinner tonight. “I know, but I wanted to.” he gave one of his classic broad grins and handed you the plate, kissing your forehead. “I gotta look after you. The others would kick my ass if I didn’t right?” he said, chuckling and ruffling your hair as he looked at you with such adoration.

After that you were given a chair and helped him do some lowkey little effort chores so you felt useful but it wasn’t too much.

Ace

People assumed Ace wouldn’t understand what you were going through. They thought that he was young and so full of energy that he couldn’t possibly relate.

Except, he could.

The times he’d wear himself out [granted, it took way more than it did for you] he would be overwhelmed with the need to sleep and just pass out in random places.

A type of exhaustion-based narcolepsy Marco had explained.

You both could see the signs in one another and as much as you wouldn’t wish anything bad on people, let alone someone you loved, it was comforting to have someone in a similar camp as yourself.

You could feel your feet dragging, feeling the aches in your body and were aware your mood was starting to dip lower and lower as your ability to cope with the day whittled away.

Ace walked over and saw you looking frazzled.

You could tell Ace wasn’t much better. He didn’t have his mischievous glimmer in his eyes, his dark circles prominent and the smile on his face was a shadow of a smirk. His posture was slouched and lazy as he nodded to you.

“Do I look as tired as I feel?” you asked with a sigh and collapsed against his chest, feeling arms around you as he used you to prop himself up as much as you needed him. “Worse,” he laughed and kissed your head.

“Maybe we need to get you to bed,” Ace hummed, running a hand down your back. “Ace.” you looked up at him, giving him a look.

Ace scoffed and rolled his eyes, pulling away enough to see the frown on your face. “Not for anythin’ like that. Although…” he trailed off until you jabbed him in the side. “I’m kiddin’!”

“A nap, just a little power nap to get us through till tonight, huh?”

Now, that did sound nice…

“Oh Portgas, you tease…” You sighed and let him pull you away to his room, where you both promptly fell onto his bed, embraced by the soft pillows and tangled messy sheets.

Neither of you had even managed to take off your shoes as you cuddled together to recharge.

Izou

Izou was much more ‘tough love’ than your other partners.

But even so, he tried his best to understand and learn about your illness. Knowing you couldn’t help it any more than someone with a broken leg could.

He was more of a fan of ‘preventative’ measures. Seeing you exhausted and fighting to stand up was hard for him, unsure how to deal with it in a positive way without feeling he was being condescending or coddling you.

So you’d have these little tea sessions and pamper evenings with him.

“This one is said to relax your body and mind, makes rest all the more revitalizing,” he said and poured you a tea as you sat across from him with a facemask on, feet in a tub of warm water with all sorts of oils and herbs.

You weren’t sure how much of these things would really work but it was nice to be so cared for and doted on. This was Izou’s way of doing his best to show he cared and wanted to help.

“Tastes… bitter?” you said, slapping your lips together. “All the best remedies taste bad,” Izou countered as he sat down and sipped his own, making a happy sound as he closed his eyes.

The room was nice. His room always smelt like incense and flowers, and the colours he’d chosen to decorate his space with were also calming. You felt good here, felt good with him.

“How do you feel?” he asked as he watched you, taking in all your little movements and reactions as you basked in comfort.

“I feel good, I feel like I’m recharging.” you watched the smile grace his face as he nodded. “Good,”

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violetrainbow412-blog · 1 year ago

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Emergency room [S. R] +18

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 12k

Summary: Spencer forgot to mention that you're still his emergency contact. You wouldn't have had a problem with it if you weren't his ex of over a year and the hospital took you out of the bed because he had a car crash

contents: exes to lovers, car accident, hospitals, mention of injuries (nothing graphic), mutual longing, SMUT, porn with plot, a little sub!spencer if you squint, penetrative sex (p in v), vanilla sex

Maybe there is a mistake with the grammar and pronouns, I swear I checked it the best I could but surely something escaped me! Enjoy :)

The ringing of your cell phone snapped you out of your hard-won reverie a few hours ago, and you sighed audibly into your pillow before opening your eyes. The device was somewhere on the nightstand, so it was enough to reach out and feel the wood a little to take it.

Virginia Hospital Center.

You hoped the caller ID was wrong, which was highly unlikely, and you swiped to take the call, wondering what it could be.

“Virginia Hospital Center, may I speak to Ms. Y/N Y/L/N?” With a shaky voice you answered in the affirmative and then the woman continued: "I am calling because you are the emergency contact on file for Mr. Spencer Walter Reid, who has just been admitted to the emergency room”

Hearing this, you jumped out of bed like a spring and felt how a chill ran through your entire body, a sign of the obvious panic that had just invaded you.

"What happened? He's fine?"

“He suffered a car accident and now he is being transferred to the operating room. It is imperative that you show up at the hospital so that you can account for any complications and can help us complete the information in his medical history."

The woman behind the phone was barely finishing saying that when you were already looking for your car keys and a decent change of clothes. You only took what you had in your bag before getting in your car and starting the engine to start the march, even with the adrenaline that you had coursing through your system. The hospital was a bit far away, so every time you accelerated too much you had to remind yourself that you could have an accident too, and then that would be the last straw. With that constant change of speed, you managed to get there in almost an hour, a little less than the time it would normally take, but still too long for your liking.

Somewhat agitated you rushed to the reception desk, where there was a nurse whose voice you recognized from the previous call. She had to reassure you a bit when you desperately asked her, almost with tears in your eyes, to tell you where Spencer was and what condition he was in.

“What relationship do you have with the patient?”

“I am his…” Your breath caught for a moment, thinking about whether it would be correct to tell the woman the truth or not; In the end, you decided to lie to her "girlfriend"

You and Spencer hadn't seen each other, at least not physically, for a little over a year. You often saw him on the news, in one or another now-forgotten photo that fell by accident from between the pages of your books, or in the articles on the internet about the conferences he gave; but you had never dared to contact him to go out, just as he hadn’t called again. You thought that eventually, you guys would meet again even if it was by chance, but you never imagined that it would be under these conditions.

“Can you help me answer a few questions?” she murmured and to each question she asked you answered almost mechanically. You were quite surprised that, even with the time that had already passed, you still remembered everything perfectly, as if it were your own medical information that you were providing.

The woman informed you, as kindly as she could be, that Spencer had already been in surgery for an hour and that when the doctor came out he could explain what had happened in more detail. You thought about the hit he had suffered to end up there and the anxiety of knowing if he was okay was eating away at your place in the waiting room, where you alternated between biting your nails and moving your leg up and down to calm down.

You wondered, meanwhile, why he still had you listed as an emergency contact. You knew he wasn't a person with many friends, but it sounded more practical for that position to be filled by someone he lived with more often, like Prentiss or Hotchner, not you. It wasn't the first time you'd been in a hospital with Spencer as a patient and you tried to remind yourself that those other times everything had gone well, but on those other occasions he'd always gotten immediate care because he'd been working or it was simple things like a cold that had become too bothersome. You wondered how far he had crashed, how long it had taken the ambulance to get there, how much pain he had experienced. You were really worried, until after half an hour that seemed like an eternity you heard the nurse call you and a doctor appeared next to her.

The first thing you asked, with a trembling voice, was if he was okay, and when you felt the doctor's soft nod you felt your soul return to your body. Then he explained everything that had happened in greater detail: Spencer had been hit from the side by a drunk driver who had entered at the same time as him and who, unfortunately, hadn’t survived. The surgery had been delayed because Spencer had a stab wound to his leg, dangerously close to the femoral artery and at risk of bleeding, as well as multiple pieces of glass buried deep in his torso, which punctured muscle and could damage vessels, nerves, and tendons. He had made the emergency call before falling unconscious and the doctor in front of you emphasized that if it hadn't been for the speed of the report things could have ended worse.

"Right now he is in intensive care, you can come in to see him until he wakes up"

"And how long will that take?"

“It varies from patient to patient. I can't give you an exact answer, but it won't be for another hour or two”

You warmly thanked the doctor for the job done and somewhat disappointed, but definitely calmer, you returned to your seat in the waiting room. You asked if you could stay there the rest of the night even if it wasn't on his side and the woman agreed. A little less upset, you searched in the hospital for a place to prepare coffee and after obtaining a well-charged one you waited again.

At some point you curled up in the chair and after an hour, and the fact that the coffee had no effect on you at all, you had already fallen asleep. Luckily your sleep was light, so you could clearly hear when a new nurse murmured your name and said that she would guide you to where Spencer was, who had woken up a few minutes before. During the walk down the corridor, she warned you that in intensive care only visits of less than an hour were allowed and when you entered the room full of stretchers protected only by curtains, she took you to one almost at the end, indicating that your patient was there.

You didn't go in immediately, because you needed to get some air first to gather the courage to do it, and when you finally did, a sea of feelings flooded you. Spencer looked fatigued and a little pale. His eyelids were closed and if it hadn't been for the heart monitor next door emitting soft, continuous beeps, you would have thought he was already in a better place.

Carefully you approached a chair right next to the stretcher and once seated there you remained silent for a moment, until you felt the need to hold his hand as a way of comforting yourself, as if you were closer this way. Said action didn’t go unnoticed by the man, who, when he slightly opened his eyes, believed that his mind was vilely deceiving him, and a second later your name left his lips as a scratchy and confused whisper.

"Hello" was all you managed to say, holding back the tears that had already pooled on your lashes. "How are you feeling?"

“I feel like everything around me is spinning”

With a little more confidence, and so that he wouldn't strain his eyes, you approached the edge of the bed, still not letting go of his hand.

"The doctor said you really had a bad accident"

"The other man? He is…?"

"Dead" you completed in a whisper, completely admiring your friend's pure spirit that allowed her to worry about who caused him to be there "He was drunk when he hit you and they couldn't do much"

"Oh," was all Spencer said, with a genuine tone of pity. You didn't know what to say, or even what to do, you were just looking at him as closely as possible to reassure yourself that he was okay and with his whole body. Your hand hadn't let go and he seemed comfortable with it.

"Do you want me to call someone?"

"A doctor?"

"To a friend"

"They..." Reid still looked disoriented, as if he couldn't even remember the conditions in which he had the accident, and when he finally got his thoughts together, he looked back at you, "Why are you here?"

“I am your emergency contact”

It took him a moment, again, to process the words. When he was aware of the situation, he closed his eyes tightly as if he had done something terrible, and looked at you with shame.

"I'm so sorry"

"Don't you want me here?"

"What? No! Of course I want you here. It's just that I didn't want to bother you with this, I… I thought I'd change that information when I found a better candidate and I never did, so months went by and I… forgot. Well, I didn't forget, but I didn't want to change it because I didn't think it would be necessary and right now I think I should have discussed it with you and I never did, so I'm sorry. Are you upset?”

“Spencer, relax,” you exhaled gently, rubbing your fingers over the back of his hand “There's no problem staying here, I just want to know if you need me to call someone. They didn't let me stay here for long."

“Call Hotch. I want to let him know that I'm taking a vacation."

It was difficult for him to keep his eyes open continuously, probably from the remaining effects of the anesthesia, so you just nodded and did as he asked. Spencer listened to the entire conversation in which you explained what had happened and even answered some of his boss's questions himself, assuring him that he was as well as he could be after an accident of this magnitude. Aaron also promised that the team would visit him as soon as possible, and he asked you to keep in touch, with an odd familiarity that made you smile.

After finishing the call, you returned to your chair and leaned over to brush his hair off his forehead, taking the opportunity to caress his face carefully. Spencer, still with his eyes closed, smiled at the touch.

“You cut it” you observed “Are you still doing it yourself?”

"Yes, still"

You smiled at him and he smiled back, but neither of you said anything else. There would be time to answer questions later.

Although he seemed to be asleep, he was aware that you were by his side for another long time, and when you said goodbye you promised that you would return there as soon as you could.

The next morning, after taking a shower and calling work that you had an emergency, you kept your promise. Spencer seemed a bit more recovered on this second visit; his color had returned to his cheeks, he was almost sitting on the bed and could basically keep his eyes open for more than ten seconds at a time. The doctor had told you that he would stay there for observation for the rest of the day and once he moved to a general room you could be with him for as long as you wanted. For now, you would have to make do with that sixty-minute visit.

"Do you feel better?"

"Not really. But I'm not complaining, it could be worse” he replied, settling better on the bed and wincing.

“I told the doctors no… I asked them not to give you Dilaudid” you confessed, with a bit of fear of his reaction “No type of morphine, in fact. They told me that they could substitute another analgesic, but that you would feel a little more pain than you normally would. Still, I insisted. I hope you don't mind"

“The doctor told me. And I appreciate it,” he murmured sincerely. He couldn't describe the ease he felt when he found out about it, for he had been drug-free for too long to mess it up by carelessness. Luckily, he had you.

"How have you been, by the way?" you shyly exclaimed, taking a step closer to him "I don't mean right now, but... during this time"

"Relatively well" he replied, inviting you with his eyes to sit in the same chair you had been a few hours ago. In doing so you hoped that he would develop a more complete answer than just two words and then he began to relate to you some events significant enough to deserve a mention.

One of the things you'd always loved about Spencer was hearing him talk, whether it was for a minute or an hour. With other people he talked fast, afraid someone would ask him to shut up, but with you he always took his time. In his words there was no sign of spite towards you, even when you thought you deserved it, always showing the beautiful heart that he harbored in that chest.

“I have also been giving conferences more often and that makes me happy. Many of the people there don't understand what I'm talking about, but those who do always come up and ask me questions. Sometimes Emily or Rossi accompany me and other times I go alone. Oh, and I'm taking a PhD."

"Another?" you said surprised, although you didn’t doubt his ability.

"I've been kind of bored, if I'm honest" was his poor explanation from him. You wanted to remind him that no one went into PhDs just because they were bored, but he was a genius you were talking to.

You didn't dare to confess to him that you had been watching some of his labor movements, but just knowing again a little about the things that were happening to him made you feel good.

“Have you been alright?” he continued, looking genuinely interested in hearing your answer.

“I have been able to defend myself, yes. Do you remember when I told you about asking for a promotion? Well, it finally happened a few months ago and the extra money has been doing me good. I have a little more work freedom, too, and I'm considering moving”

“Where do you plan to move to?”

You explained some of the options you had in mind and after hearing each one he helped you learn about some of the pros and cons in terms of costs, services, and security in the area. You would have continued your talk if it hadn't been for a nurse coming in. She was the same one that had received you the night before and you smiled kindly when you recognized her.

"Good morning, how are you feeling, Mr. Reid?" she asked, as she maneuvered to change the IV pole bag.

“Better than yesterday, definitely”

"You don't have to worry, you will recover soon"

"I hope so" he smiled.

“You gave your girlfriend quite a scare, that's for sure,” she teased, nodding her head in your direction.

You tensed at that, and if you had been an ostrich, you would have buried your head in the ground. Spencer watched you from the stretcher with a little smile and answered something you didn't understand to the nurse. They exchanged another couple of sentences until she was gone, saying goodbye cordially to both of you.

"Did she misread the situation or is there something here I'm missing?" he asked you once you were alone, looking genuinely amused.

“Okay, I admit it, maybe I lied a bit last night. I thought they would have more compassion and trust in a girlfriend than an ex-girlfriend"

"And your real boyfriend isn't going to be upset if you're here taking care of me?"

Ever since you met him you could say that if Spencer lacked a quality, it was subtlety and now he himself was showing it. You knew that there was enough trust for him to tease you like that, but you also knew that asking about your love life was some kind of revenge for having lied to the staff and so you decided to humor him.

"No, he isn’t very jealous to say. On the contrary, he is open-minded and right now we are trying to have an open relationship. You know, I see some people, he sees others, but we still have our thing."

Spencer's previously mocking expression immediately changed upon hearing you say that, having no idea how he would be wise to react. But you couldn't stand it for a long time and you burst out laughing, clarifying between laughs that you were only joking.

“Well, even so, it is likely that at some point in your life you could be in such a relationship, there are even those who think that it is healthy and mature when both people agree”

“It's not quite my style. I prefer safe monogamy or if the guy is very stupid, the sex without commitment for a single night” you laughed slightly.

The deadline for the visit had already expired and with all the sadness you had to say goodbye to him, promising that you would return as soon as he came out of intensive care.

“You've done a lot for me, but it's okay if at some point you're too busy to come, okay? I will understand"

"Don't talk nonsense" you exclaimed firmly, while you leaned down enough to give him a hug without hurting him. Suddenly a new concern invaded you and you felt that you had to ask him a question that you had omitted: "Unless you have a psycho girlfriend who is after my head, do you?"

"Do you think if that was the case, I wouldn't have mentioned it already?" he muttered obviously and now it was your turn to smile.

You didn't want a nurse to come in to get you out of there by force so you took your things and looked at your ex-boyfriend one last time to wave goodbye.

You always thought that when a relationship ended it was because either party had made a serious mistake: “I slept with your best friend��, “my family secretly hates you”, or “it turns out I'm still too in love with my ex to love you”. But when you decided to break up with Spencer, you found that that formula didn't apply to everyone.

Perhaps it was an unfortunate combination of situations, feelings, and problems that led to things simply stopping working overnight. You didn't know how to explain it, none of you, but you guys couldn't even kiss the same way you used to. Your work exhausted you, his work exhausted him, and in the end it was you who decided for both of us that things would be better if everyone took their own path. This isn’t to say that the breakup was less painful, it was just that the hope of being able to have a friendship after it made the grief more bearable. But none of you was able to forget what had happened to pretend to be friends and so, little by little, you stopped seeing each other. Over a year passed with neither of you discussing the silent breakup and, though you and he couldn't have known it, even your respective group of friends suffered a little from the pain of parting from a couple they'd swear would walk down the aisle.

That was why a part of you was guiltily glad that you could see him again and that things weren't at all awkward, like you always imagined they would be. It was your same Spencer, just a little teasing and with less hair, but other than that he had barely changed. He still had those kind eyes that once saw you as if you were the most beautiful person on earth.

You took advantage of the way home in your car to think about everything that was happening to you and for a moment you wondered if with Spencer's recovery all relationship with you would end up withering like a flower with the arrival of autumn or would be reborn as they do in spring.

"I don't even know why we're playing, we both know you're always going to win" you complained, throwing your pathetic poker hand onto the bed sheet, as he laughed.

The hospital called you when Spencer was admitted to the general ward and you had stayed with him ever since. There was a television in the room, but you knew that he was not a big fan of technological entertainment, so before coming back you decided to take as many things as you needed so that you could kill time; a few books, a deck of cards, a book full of word scrambles and crossword puzzles you'd picked up at a newsstand on the way, and even a blank notebook that could do multiple jobs.

He would stay there for about a week (the doctor explained that it all depended on how fast he healed) and that morning you had gone to talk to your boss at the office to ask her for a couple of days so you could stay with him. You still had a week of vacation available and although he felt extremely guilty you insisted on staying there, after all no one from the BAU could leave their post for that long. In addition, urgent or essential things could be done from home and it was enough to connect for a couple of hours from your laptop to solve them.

Spencer hadn't told you, but he felt comfortable having company during his stay there. Hospitals weren’t his favorite places and having such a familiar presence comforted him.

"I'll let you win once if it makes you feel better"

"If you wanted me to feel better you should have done it without telling me, now I know you were just being silly" you huffed, shuffling the cards with both hands.

"It's all about math, it's really not that complicated"

“Why have you never thought about betting big in casinos? You're from Vegas, you must know a lot. And you could become a millionaire with it."

“It is illegal, in fact, and I am banned from casinos in Las Vegas, Laughlin, and Pahrump because of my card-counting ability. So sorry to disappoint you, but those plans wouldn't work."

“A wasted talent. What a pity” you sighed, starting to hand out a new game.

While you were doing that, a nurse came into the room carrying a tray with food and your friend's eyes sparkled, because being fed intravenously for a day and a half hadn’t been very to his liking. When he put it down in front of you, you noticed that everything looked appetizing considering it was hospital food, and after thanking the man he took the dessert and spread it in your direction.

“You don't like Jell-o anymore?

"Yeah, but I know it's your favorite," he added, shrugging and starting to eat the main course voraciously.

"I'm not going to take advantage of a sick person"

“You aren’t taking advantage. I'm giving it to you" with a smile you put the dessert on the nightstand, ready to return it to him if he wanted it later, and as seeing him eat your own hunger woke you up, you told him you'd go out for a moment to look for something.

You were surprised that across the corridor, at the reception, there was a group of people that you recognized immediately. Morgan was the first to notice you and had to turn twice to make sure his brain wasn't playing tricks on him. Then he motioned to Garcia, who was holding a bouquet of flowers and a balloon, and she waved her hand in your direction with a huge smile.

“Are you really who I think you are?” he asked, once they approached you.

"It seems so" you laughed, under the watchful and surprised gaze of almost everyone present.

The team greeted you with hugs, seeming genuinely happy to see you around and asking about the status of your mutual friend. You related all the medical details of the accident, the care they had taken and in the same way you told them that you had been there throughout the entire process.

"And how is he now?"

“He is fine, just a little sore. But the worst is over, the doctor says he will recover soon”

"It's a relief that everything was quick, I don't even want to think about what would have happened if the doctors didn't arrive on time"

"Do you think we can stop by to see him?"

"He'll be delighted, I assure you" you answered happily "He's in room 501, I'll come back to you as soon as I find something to eat"

Everyone thanked you and set out to find the room, except for Aaron who stayed in the hallway so he could talk to you.

"How has everything been?"

"Okay, as far as that goes," you smiled, arms crossed over your chest, "How's Jack?"

"Growing up" was all he said and you didn't need more to know what he meant "I just wanted to tell you that the plan is to stay here for a few hours, in case you want to come home and rest"

Although you didn't often see him, Hotch had always been particularly nice to you when you were the boy's girlfriend, and he had also tried to cheer the man up when he found out about the breakup: he was especially fond of both you and him.

“Oh, thank you very much for that, Aaron. I was going to go get something to eat, but I don't have much of an appetite for fast or canned food, so I could probably eat at home and come back."

"Do what you have to do. We'll be here,” he assured you.

"You're not going to ask Spencer to go back to work, are you?"

"I won't ask him, I'll be lucky if I convince him not to do it" you giggled to see that Spencer was still the same stubborn person as always, and you thought about whether it would be correct to ask your ex-boyfriend's boss a personal question. You had always seen someone strong in him, of course, but he also had a gentle and understanding part.

"He told me that he's been fine, but… has he really been?"

You wanted to hear from someone else how he had been, because you knew that it was likely that the chestnut omitted the bad parts of the story just to not worry you.

"I don't know what can be considered ‘fine' in Reid's life. He has kept up his spirits and as far as I know his mother is doing well. He doesn't drink, he doesn't smoke, and even though I've insisted on it, he refuses to see a therapist, but I guess he finds another way to deal with the problems. There have been bad days, but he always gets over it” you felt calm when you heard that and you nodded with a smile.

“He is always like that. It makes me happy that he has you"

"Sometimes he's not that happy" he sighed, probably with some important background for those words "But in the end it's like in all families, right?"

"I think so" you smiled bitterly. He was watching you carefully, trying to read your micro-expressions as much as possible. After all he was a profiler, that was his job. "Then I'll go home quickly and come back as soon as possible, okay?"

“Good luck, drive carefully”

"It was nice to see you again, Hotch."

Spencer hardly even noticed your absence with the bustle of his friends in the room and when you came back you were even wearing other clothes. During their visit you were just a listener to the funny stories everyone seemed to have and from time to time you answered a few polite questions from others.

You talked to them about your plans to stay there daily and you agreed that they would take turns helping you for a couple of hours each, when possible, so you would get some rest as well. Also, most volunteered to replace the amount of blood he had needed in surgery. All the attention had the man a bit dizzy, but still he felt lucky for the people around him.

The days went by and sometimes you smuggled in a snack that wouldn't harm your friend's health so he could eat during the afternoon. You had convinced him to see one or another movie, you had brought some yarn and needles for you to resume knitting lessons that had been forgotten for many years, and in general you could say that you had a good time with him. Chats with Spencer always felt natural so topics of conversation weren't a problem either, as he would be able to recite facts to you from memory as long as you guys didn't get bored.

The doctors came in frequently to check that everything was in order and every time you heard positive responses about the recovery process you felt calm.

You'd come home at night because Spencer insisted on it, but the next morning you'd leave your apartment as early as possible and spend the rest of the day there.

Although you didn't want to admit it, you were more and more convinced that those days by his side became the spark of happiness that your life needed. All the time was only yours and served to recover some of the lost things.

“Do you want me to read aloud to you?” he offered an afternoon and you put aside your occupations to accept the offer. You had gotten him a copy of The Narrative of John Smith by Arthur Conan Doyle because you knew he loved that book and that was the one selected for the activity.

Contrary to what many people thought, he was a great speaker and the sound of his voice brought to the surface memories that you thought were lost.

"What are you reading?" you had asked that night, after brushing your teeth and putting on your pajamas. Spencer spent at least 10 minutes reading before going to sleep, enough for him to devour an entire book, or at least a large part of it.

You assumed that his current reading would be something related to a case, but you were surprised to hear the answer.

"Alice in Wonderland"

"Why are you reading Alice in Wonderland?" you asked helpfully, as you slid under the covers into the space next to him and peered over the side.

“My mom used to read it to me when I was a kid and I wanted to reread it. It's a nice story"

"I have never read it. I just watched the movie"

"You are committing a sin. The cinema will never do justice to the original stories.”

"And why don't you read to me a bit?" you asked nicely, followed by a short kiss on the lips "I like listening to you and maybe you will help me fall asleep"

You carefully slipped in until you were comfortably recharged on his chest and when you were ready he complied with your request, beginning with the story he knew by heart.

Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it…

It became a habit and sometimes you guys wouldn't even finish the books because you always picked another one that seemed interesting, even if it was in a different language because you knew Spencer would translate it for you. It was those kinds of actions that allowed him to feel useful around you and thus show you how much he loved you.

You had already read that book once, as you were also an enthusiastic Doyle fan, so he felt free to choose one of his favorite chapters. You didn't lie down as comfortably as you used to, but you still enjoyed reading, with a big smile to return to that habit of yours that you loved so much.

In the midst of everything you reflected that, perhaps, the love between you was something that had not completely disappeared, but rather a latent feeling that had now found an opportunity to appear.

Loving meant many things and if you didn't love it then you wouldn't be there at that moment, but somehow repeating an exclusive activity from your time as a couple made you miss that greatly. Spencer hadn't read to anyone else because he knew that was just yours.

This time you didn't fall asleep when he finished the chapter, but you kept looking at him the whole time, afraid that it was just a ghost in your memory that would evaporate in your hands as soon as you dared to touch him.

Luckily he was very real and inside that small hospital room, you could travel to the past as many times as you wanted without being disturbed. And for now, that was enough for you two.

A whole week passed and everything seemed to be going great. That day Spencer had convinced you to watch a Korean movie he had on DVD and you were about to leave when he cleared his throat to get your attention.

"Before you go, do you think you could do me a favor?" he asked. He could move a little better now and right now his feet dangled to the side of the stretcher, from where he watched you slightly nervous. You didn’t imagine what this behavior was due to.

"Whatever, what do you need?"

"I didn't ask before because... I'm a little embarrassed, to be honest," Spencer wasn't watching you speak and your brow furrowed in obvious confusion at that "But... I asked the nurse if I could take a shower now and she said yes, but I need someone to help me"

Your mouth opened with a soft oh and then you understood why he seemed so shy about the request.

“You don't have to do it if you don't want to” he added “I know it can be awkward, I just don't know who else to ask and you know it bothers me so much being so dirty. I hadn't tried it before because it literally hurt to breathe, but now that I feel better I think I really need it and I would really appreciate it if you… you know."

"It’s okay, Spencer," you replied, taking a few steps toward him, "There's nothing in there that I haven't already seen.”

“I will wear underwear, I don't have to be completely naked. You would just have to help me wash… some parts”

“Then why are you making this fuss? Let's give you that shower!" you laughed, sitting down next to him so he put his arm around your shoulders and you could help him up.

He was still having a bit of trouble from the leg injury, but the bathroom wasn't that far away and you managed to guide him there. The shower was surrounded by a plastic curtain, with a proper chair for patients and a hose with a shower head at the end. You helped Spencer into the chair and while you recovered from the effort you took a look around; there were some toiletries on a shelf that would surely do for him, and a white towel as well.

“Morgan brought me some new clothes and the nurse said we could ask the store manager for a gown,” he muttered, before you started doing anything. You took off your shoes and left them nestled to one side, always feeling his gaze following you.

When you noticed that he didn't take his eyes off you and was just there, sitting, you spoke:

“Should I help you take off your gown or do you take it off yourself?” there was amusement in your words and Spencer, as if taken from a trance, hastened to find the knot of the garment for himself. He was already wearing his underpants below and it only took him to get rid of the material so that he was half naked.

You hadn't seen his wounds until that moment and you couldn't help but wrinkle your face imagining the pain he must have felt. His stitches were still there but they were already healing and he would have at least four scars, plus one twice the size on the leg opposite where he had taken a bullet; that added up to five marks adorning his body. He was never an athletic person, but since he wasn't a very keen eater either he was able to keep himself in shape. Personally, you had always been attracted to him in every possible way, so his physique was never something that bothered you: thin, muscular, with some paunch, you were going to like him no matter how he was.

“Are you going to help me or are you just going to stare at me?” he countered, looking down at you with that expression you knew was the boldest thing he could get, and you snorted a laugh.

"Shut up"

You stretched to reach the shower head to warm the water, not wanting him to catch a cold and knowing that a warm shower would make him feel better because it would relax his muscles. Once it was at the right temperature, you wet his hair a bit and took shampoo in your hands to wash his head. He gave a barely audible moan as you began to massage his scalp and closed his eyes so he could enjoy your touch. Once you were done there you took a sponge and started cleaning his shoulders, torso, and back, trying to be as careful as possible. Sometimes you even let your fingers slip through the side of the sponge to touch his slightly tanned skin, as smooth as it had always been, while you gazed at those moles you'd kissed so many times. The first time you had sex with him, as you watched him in the twilight after the act, you had tried to study every part you could, from the little freckles on his back to the birthmark on his leg, and right now you felt like crying to see those little things about him again.

You were enjoying treating him like this so much and not to mention Spencer, who felt like he was in heaven to feel you so close to him. He could smell your perfume, a little worn, but still present after the whole day and from time to time he dared to look up to meet your face. And every time he looked at you, he remembered why he thought you were the most beautiful woman of all.

"You didn't have to give me the whole shower, you know?" he joked at some point, when you lovingly washed his hands “I just wanted you to help me with the parts I couldn't reach. But honestly, I'm not complaining about this."

Of course the two of you had ever taken a shower together, but it had never been anything like this. They were always things to optimize time, like when you were short of time to go to work or too tired to shower separately. This act was something different, something more private and delicate; it was too domestic. You were taking care of him and at the same time enjoying seeing him in such a docile position, peeking at you from time to time.

"I'm just doing an old friend a favor" you answered with a smile, although when you heard the words out loud it immediately faded.

An old friend. Was that what you were now?

The place was silent for a moment, with only the sound of water dripping on the white tile floor.

"Did you ever miss me?"

His question had taken you by surprise and you remained silent before answering, trying to figure out what relation the question had to the situation. From the way he'd said it, you almost thought it was one of those things that burned in his chest and he'd needed to exhale.

"Yes, sometimes" you finally answered. He seemed satisfied with the answer "And you?"

"Many times," he laughed, a bit of guilt tinging his words.

A part of you wondered what he was trying to tell you with that: was it a confession… or a declaration? Ending the relationship had been imminent, and if you hadn’t done it that day you could have done it months or even weeks later, however, you weren’t going to lie in saying that you weren’t tormented by the thought of what would have happened if you had tried just a little longer. And that was accompanied, of course, by a tremendous feeling of nostalgia. You wanted to correct your answer and tell him that you had actually missed him terribly, all along, but you couldn't bring yourself to. And he, who couldn't read your mind, thought that he had simply bothered you with an out-of-place comment.

"You can rinse off while I get a new gown, what do you say?"

Spencer nodded at the idea and then you walked out of there, your cheeks feeling strangely hot. What was happening to you? Did you still have feelings for him?

Maybe the real question was, have you ever stopped feeling something for him?

It didn't take you long to get what you needed and you came back to find it wrapped in the towel. After he got dressed, you maneuvered in the same way to help him out, although now with the added problem of the slippery floor, and before long he was lying back on the bed.

"I feel much better now" he smiled at you. From the bedroom window you could see the night sky and then you realized how long it took you to shower.

"Do you want me to do something else?"

Your curt response wasn't because he deserved it, but because you were too confused to stay there any longer.

“No, everything's fine. Thank you very much for this”

"You're welcome" you smiled.

"Well... I guess you'll want to go now”

You still knew Spencer too well to know that that slight frown between his brows was a sure sign of concern, and you felt bad for speaking to him in the way you had. To atone a bit for your guilt, you approached him and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning against his body in a hug.

His body still felt warm and comfortable and just as if it had been made to fit yours. His arms held you firmly when he was finally able to react and you felt his chest deflate a little, as if he wanted to give you more space to feel close.

Time passed so slowly that you didn't even know how long you stayed in that position, just enjoying the closeness and his gentle hands rubbing your back.

"I like how you smell" you exclaimed in a low voice, fearing to break the tranquility of the moment and you felt his chest vibrate with a laugh.

“Did you know that your sense of smell is directly linked to the attraction you feel for a person? Your nose captures the pheromones that the opposite body secretes and if it considers it a good candidate to mate then it is pleasant”

"I think it's just the shampoo," you laughed. You turned your head up a bit and Spencer, by inertia, turned down to meet your gaze. "Although I wouldn't need to sniff you to know if I wanted to mate with you”

The joke had been so natural that you didn't measure the weight of the words until they left your mouth, and the worst thing was that the position you were in hadn’t been the most appropriate. You could feel his breath mixing with yours and it was enough to get a little closer to melt your lips in a kiss.

You had put yourself in that situation, as if your body was unconsciously looking for his own, and Spencer hadn't refused at any time. Just like how no one had forced you to stay with him all this time and you still had.

Your boss had been too permissive with the situation during that time, but you were sure that she would no longer be so if more time passed, so you would have to return to the office the next morning. And Spencer had at most two more days before the doctor released him.

And what difference did it make if you kissed him at that moment? Would you ever get a chance to do that again? You didn't have to think about it too much, because he was the one who started closing the distance; an inch, then another, until you felt your lips brush against each other. And he would have kissed you if it hadn't been for the unwelcome ringing of a cell phone that made you jump away.

"It's... yours" you stammered, handing him the old artifact that announced Penélope García's contact calling him.

While he was having a conversation, you didn't even look at him, but started packing your things spread out around the room so you could get out of there as quickly as possible. You could tell by the rush in the man's words that he could read your intentions and wished he could talk to you before you left.

"Everything's good. Thanks for calling, Garcia. Yeah, I love you too. Bye”

"Look the hour! I have to go, I'll go back to work tomorrow and I want to have everything in order" you said as soon as he hung up the call, waving your hands in the air as you spoke as a sign of your nervousness "I'll try to come back tomorrow, but... I don't know if work let me"

“Okay, you've already done too much. I'm fine now,” he assured you, giving a thumbs up with a tight-lipped smile. Even though you wanted to say something the words didn't come out of your mouth, so you just raised your hand to say goodbye and then you rushed out of there.

All the way home your mind was busy processing the feelings that almost kiss had evoked in you and, to be honest, they all ended in the same thing: the wish that he had cut the distance completely. That desire followed you when you showered, when you went to sleep, when you woke up, and all through the workday the next day. Minute after minute your mind could only think about him and what would have happened if you hadn't been interrupted by that call.

As you had feared, you didn’t have time to visit him at night and since you didn’t find the courage to call him personally, you only asked the hospital to pass on the message. You intended to see him a day after that, figuring that the matter would have been forgotten, but your plans were thwarted when Spencer called you to say that they had just authorized his medical discharge. He sounded calm and, of course, happy, when he told you that an ambulance was going to take him to his apartment.

"That's wonderful" you answered honestly. You were sitting at your work desk sorting out some documents, so you held your phone between your ear and your shoulder.

“I just wanted to thank you for everything you did. For all. I… I don't know what he would have done without you here. And you didn't have to, but you still did it. So, thanks"

"I already told you before, you don't have to thank me for anything"

"But I'd still like to," he murmured firmly, "Would you let me buy you dinner sometime?"

You were silent for a second, honestly confused by what he was asking. I mean, you knew what he was inviting you to, but you didn't know why.

"Dinner?"

“Well, it's the least I can do for you. I have to use crutches for a while again, so we couldn't go out to a fancy restaurant or anything. It would just be us in my apartment, do you still like Italian food? Rossi taught me a great recipe and I think I cook decent enough.”

“Ah… yes, I would love to” you stammered. You thought that after his recovery you would not speak again and things would return to how they were before; but apparently Spencer had other plans.

"How about Saturday?"

“Sounds perfect to me” you breathed out, still a bit surprised and quite nervous about the proposal you just received. Even if it was merely friendly, you were happy to know that he still wanted your company.

Perhaps you had been too hard on him and on yourself by not allowing things to just follow their natural flow, holding onto the misconception that you and Spencer Reid no longer had romantic feelings for each other.

"I'll meet you here then, do you still remember how to get there?"

“If you have the same address, then I still do it”

"Good. I was just calling to ask you that. I guess you're busy working."

"Only a little"

"Well, I'll let you do it. Thanks for accepting"

"Thank you for inviting me"

You guys were silent for a moment and you wondered if Spencer was smiling the same way you were.

"Bye," he said kindly and after saying goodbye you hung up.

You were left smiling like a fool at the idea that your first date in a long time would be with the only man who years ago had been capable of stealing your heart and after taking a few minutes to process it you went back to your work, but not before pointing with circle the date on your calendar, like a teenager in love.

When the day finally came you made sure to look for a nice outfit before your dinner with him, holding yourself back from looking too excited. You rarely wore dresses but, if your memory serves you, he really liked how you looked in them, so you made sure to look for one that would accentuate your figure and make you look more youthful. You carefully combed your hair, put on just a little makeup, and came on your way to buy a bottle of wine. You still remembered the information that he had told you about which wines were best suited for each meal and although you still didn’t know about dinner, you brought a bottle that it presumed to be Italian.

When you reached number 23 on the second floor, you knocked on the door and after hearing a couple of noises, he finally appeared in front of you.

"Hey!" he greeted you happily. He was using his old crutches, had shaved off the facial hair that had appeared during his hospital stay, and was wearing a black apron with white lettering, which Garcia had surely given him, and which read: Kiss the cook. Please I'm very lonely “Come in, come in”

"How are you?" you asked, stepping into the apartment and greeting him with a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“I’m okay, dinner is almost ready. I had technical complications because I didn't consider that cooking with crutches is more difficult than doing it without them, so I just hope it tastes good" he complained, moving deftly through the apartment to the kitchen "Sit down, I'll join you in a moment"

When he got lost in the kitchen you took the opportunity to take a look at the place. He kept having piles of books both on the shelves and stacked on the floor, on his desk, next to the chair. There were a couple of new artworks on the green wall along with the ones you'd helped him choose in the past, and picture frames everywhere: him with his mom, several with his co-workers (old and new). and you were surprised to see that even you had a space. The frame was smaller than the others, maybe to make it more discreet, but it was carefully arranged on the shelf that, by chance, or perhaps not, contained many of the books that you had given him.

"Do you need help with something?" you half screamed, hearing the crash of some pots and he denied in the same way. The air smelled delicious and your stomach rumbled with anticipation. After a few minutes Spencer was with you, both sitting in the brown leather chair where you had spent so many afternoons together.

“You just have to wait for it to cool down a bit and we can have dinner”

"I brought a wine" you murmured as you handed him the bottle. He examined it and congratulated you on your choice, telling you that it would go perfectly with the pasta he had prepared. "Are you still taking any medication?"

"Not anymore. The doctor prescribed me some things for the pain, but… I'm not taking them” he said, with a guilty smile on his face “I like your dress, by the way”

Hearing this, a satisfied smile spread across your face and you modestly thanked him for the compliment.

As he said, dinner was ready in a few minutes and you accompanied him to the dining room to serve a couple of dishes. Spencer seemed to have put an effort into everything, as he looked really exquisite and you didn't hesitate to compliment him on it even before trying it on. Dinner remained pleasant, with a couple of laughs, jokes and a flirtatious look that sometimes you weren't even aware of. Now that he had gotten rid of the apron, you could see that he was wearing a purple button-down shirt that you had always liked on him, because it fit in all the right places to make him look gorgeous. Besides, that color had always favored him.

Once you were finished, you offered him a drink of wine and he agreed, listing the digestive benefits the drink had for you. He asked if you wanted to go into the living room to be more comfortable and then both of you walked to the rickety chair, taking the bottle with you. Within a very short time the liquid in it was almost completely finished and both he and you became gigglier.

Unfortunately for you, with the laughter that came, your self-control also left. Every time he spoke you couldn't help but let your gaze slide to his lips, a little to be able to correctly understand the words that came out of it and another little just to be able to appreciate the pink color they had; they still looked soft, and you wondered if they would feel soft.

You didn't know Spencer was aware of the struggle you had inside of you, as he kept talking, laughing, and just looking so handsome while you fell apart. After a couple of minutes, you couldn't resist it anymore. Your body was vibrating with the desire to have him, maybe because of the alcohol in your blood or maybe because he looked strangely attractive when he rambled on about his PhD research.

“Spencer” you stopped him suddenly. He looked at you with a hint of concern for having overwhelmed or bored you with his talk about him and you thought he couldn't look cuter that way.

"What's wrong?" he started to say, but the question was drowned out by your lips trapping his.

You kissed him fast but deep and all the weight of guilt fell on your shoulders when you looked at his reaction; he kept not looking at any specific point and breathing heavily through his mouth, totally petrified by what you just did.

"Sorry, I don't know why I did that" you stammered. You regretted it just because you made him uncomfortable, not because you didn't want to kiss him “I messed it up, didn't I? Are you mad at me?" you wanted to know, panicked, but now it was your words that were cut off by a kiss.

He wasted no time and taking advantage of your shock one of his hands came up to hold your cheek, while he leaned more in your direction. His lips tasted of wine and nostalgia, they tasted of an overflowing love that you had finally agreed to continue feeling for each other.

He kissed you so hungrily that he was making you completely dizzy and you only separated when it was absolutely necessary to breathe, repeating kiss after kiss. He lowered his other hand to your waist to try to get you closer and you, reflexively, climbed onto his lap. It was then that you guys really looked at each other; wet lips, messy hair, hot pink painted cheeks and completely agitated breathing.

"Uh, I..."

"It was too much?" you said fearful. His hands had automatically gone up to your waist, since that position was already quite familiar to him, and yours were on his shoulders.

"No, no. I mean… only if this is okay with you”

You could have told him you were sorry, but that would be a lie. You loved being so close to him, you loved that you finally had your courage, and you loved that he cared about what you wanted. And you were going to tell him, that's for sure.

"I am telling you the truth?" you gasped, carefully holding his face to force him to look you straight in the eye. They were the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen: "Right now all I can think about is how much I need you"

No more words were needed for what happened next. You melted into a kiss again and when you pressed your hip against his, he sighed against your mouth, feeling his crotch suffer the consequences of the heated kisses you were giving him. For a moment he wanted to feel sorry, but he knew better than anyone that you already knew perfectly every inch of his body and from the smile he felt on his lips he suspected that you were enjoying the heat in that area more than you should. It was satisfying to see that you still had that kind of power over him, where you barely touched him and he was already a mess. But you couldn't speak more highly of yourself, because when his hands went to your hips you felt like putty between his fingers.

"You want to…?" he started to say, but your insistence on kissing him barely left him thinking "Do you want us to go to my room?"

Spencer was afraid he was going too fast and scaring you with it, but he couldn't find another way to interpret the result of what you were doing. He just wanted you to be as comfortable as possible.

"Yeah, I think so" you answered in a whisper.

You got up from your seat and took his hand intending to help him up, until the crutches next to the sofa reminded you of the man's physical condition. Spencer looked at the hesitation in your eyes, but he didn't give you time to back down, because in one quick movement he was on his feet and crossing to the door that led to his room, ignoring any kind of pain he might feel.

Once there, he sat on the bed and pulled you towards him to continue kissing you. None of you bothered to turn on the light to continue what you were doing. You thought the position might strain him so you gently and carefully pushed him back to lay him flat on the bed. This allowed him to better knead the soft meat on your thighs and you rewarded him with enthusiastic kisses on his neck.

You separated a little until you were sitting on his hip and then you undid the buttons of his shirt. You made sure to gently kiss the wounds he had made and Spencer just sighed with each touch of your lips. A little needy to kiss you, he also stretched out his hands to your dress, asking with his eyes for your consent to lower the zipper and get rid of it.

The dress was left tossed somewhere in the room and you leaned in just enough for him to smear kisses down your shoulders and across your chest. You could tell that he was taking his time and that only increased your desire to have him, to feel him inside you and make you his as he had done so many times.

“Y/N” he whispered against your mouth and you just hummed a nod “Darling, can you help me take off my pants?”

The nickname had come so naturally from his lips and had sounded so delicious that you had to suppress a groan. He called you that all the time, he was a very vocal man and it wasn't uncommon to hear him say those kinds of things. Both in bed and out of it.

You did exactly what he asked and you took the opportunity to slowly pass your hand over the bulge in his crotch, hearing him let out the first moan of the night.

“Hey, do you have a… uh, some protection?” you asked timidly. You loved him and trusted him, but a baby wasn’t what you needed; at least not at that time.

"In the usual drawer"

As if no time had passed, you rummaged with your hand in the left side of the second drawer in the nightstand, until you found what you were looking for. Sudden and unwarranted jealousy swept over you as you wondered if he had invited other women to spend the night and if those others could find things as naturally as you had. No one knew Spencer as you did, you were sure of it, because he wasn't a man who opened up easily to others. And no matter how many people had passed through your life, no one would understand you as much as he did.

Once you put the condom on, you took the opportunity to pump it up and down with your hand and the man's whining made you realize that he had really missed you. Both of you were trembling with anticipation, so with one movement you discarded your missing items and climbed back into his lap. Still a little fearful you looked at him and even in the middle of the darkness you realized the loving eyes on you.

“If it hurts just tell me and I'll stop. I know you're still delicate and I don't want to hurt you.”

"You would never hurt me" he answered and although you wanted to believe that they were limited to his injuries from the accident, you knew that it wasn’t so.

Those words carried more weight than you thought. They were a vote of confidence that he gave you over your entire person, not only his physical condition, but also his feelings and desires.

When you became one you groaned in unison and took a moment to get used to each other again. Your movements became soft, constant, and deep and he, unable to do more, just enjoyed that feeling.

After a few minutes, things went beyond the physical plane you were on; you realized that no one, ever, could make you feel what he did. You felt complete, whole and loved. You loved to hear everything that came out of his mouth and respond with an even more obscene sound. You loved that he knew the right points to touch and when to do it, you loved that he looked for your kisses in the middle of the act and you loved that being with him everything became so passionate and intimate. At that moment it was just him and you, no one else. As it always should have been.

After a while both bodies were already covered by a fine layer of sweat and your hands, small compared to his, leaned on his biceps to be able to move better against him.

"I missed this so much" you confessed, your voice muffled by uncontrollable moans "I missed you so much, you don't know how much I did"

He wanted to answer you, but the truth was that for the first time he had run out of words. He could only feel your body pressed against his and your boobs bouncing with each thrust.

There were certain gestures, movements, and sounds that told Spencer when you were about to arrive, so when he heard your erratic breathing and sensed your hesitation, he placed both hands on your hips to help you keep up.

At some point you felt the knot in your belly forming and you just let yourself be guided by it, anxious to feel the ecstasy exploding in you. It was enough to feel your walls pressing against him, your loud moans and a couple more pushes for Spencer to reach his own orgasm, wishing that the hot liquid had filled you instead of the barrier that protected you.

Your body fell against his, completely surrendered, and you felt his chest rise and fall as you tried to catch your breath. One of his arms, still clad in his shirt, slid around your waist and his lips groped for your forehead to place a small kiss. You were exhausted, but at the same time overflowing with joy, and he shed a single tear. Maybe because he had had a good orgasm in a long time or maybe because of the overwhelming reality that you had just made love to him.

For a few minutes you stayed like that, so peaceful and calm that you feared falling asleep in his arms.

“Y/N” he whispered, your name slipping from his lips so softly you thought you misheard.

"Yeah?" you inquired in a whisper. You two had always liked to talk for a bit after the sex rush wore off, as a way to keep things romantic.

"Risking to ruin the moment, can I ask you something?" he murmured and you rearranged yourself to face him to watch him. He looked so handsome, with dilated pupils and a flushed face, that you thought you might take him again right then.

"Whatever you want," you replied, gently brushing back the hair that had stuck to his sweaty face. You were drunk with love, he could have asked you to lower the moon and you would have done it without hesitation.

"What did this mean to you?" he added cautiously. You knew better than anyone that Spencer needed a certain security in things as well as people. The question would come eventually, though you thought you would have more time to think of an answer that would suffice. “It's okay if you say you just felt like doing it or that it was something that happened in the moment, I understand. I just... I don't want to get the wrong idea."

“And what would that wrong idea be?” you asked curiously. Suddenly he had become shy and just avoided your gaze without knowing how to respond to that, but you took him by the chin to force him to pay attention to you "Spence?"

“I don't want to have any illusions about you. If you don't see something in the future with me, that's fine, but at least I'd like to know."

They were not aggressive or demanding accusations; they were just sincere words with which he sought to protect his heart.

"I honestly don't know what's going to happen to us," you replied. A disappointed expression came over his face and you took him by surprise when you reached up a bit to kiss him again, but this time reassuringly and gently "But today I realized that you are perfect for me, in all the senses. And that I can never love someone like I love you. Does that answer your question?"

“I guess I feel the same way” he replied, but this time he was smiling slightly “And I know that we should have ended a long time ago, but… if your heart agrees, I think I'd like to start over. We were both in a bad situation back then, but now things could be different."

And of course they were going to be, because a part of you was convinced. You loved him, you had admitted it, and you knew he felt the same way about you. That was enough.

"I guess you're right. As always, Dr. Reid” you laughed, hearing his melodious laughter as well.

"For once, that makes me happy" he confessed and almost a second after that you heard him let out a weak moan that made you aware that you were pressing your chest against his still-fresh scars.

But to be honest, any previous signs of pain had been dwarfed by the pleasure of your body grinding against his.

"Maybe I should move" you apologized, but when you tried to, he didn't let you, instead tightening his grip on his arm against you.

"Don't do it” he begged you "Stay here just a little while longer"

For him, you could stay your whole life if he asked you to. Now you were sure of that. He was sure of that.

And now that you two had it back, you weren't going to let it go.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía #david rossi #emily prentiss #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #spencer reid exes to lovers

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therealcocoshady · 6 months ago

Note

Lilly and Marshall go out in a public setting and paparazzi start taking lots of pictures and this has never happened to Lilly before so she’s flipping out and Marshall goes into protective dad mode

Author’s Note : thank you for your request ❤️. I always have fun writing about Marshall & Lily ✨. Here is the fic, I hope you enjoy it !

Protective DILF

Being pregnant with twins wasn’t going to be easy, especially when it’s a « geriatric pregnancy ». That’s what the doctors explained when they told Y/N and Marshall that they were expecting not one, but two babies. And as the pregnancy progressed, it turned out to be true : it was exhausting carrying twins and dealing with the symptoms. Marshall’s wife was told to rest as much as possible, even though it was definitely easier said than done with Lily, who was demanding a lot of attention. They’d been told it was normal, but ever since she learned that she was going to be a big sister, she tended to be less independent, seeking her parents’ help and attention for most things. Thankfully, Marshall kept true to his word to be there for every step of the pregnancy and he was as present as necessary for everyone. Since Y/N was put on bedrest, he was the one dealing with taking Lily to school, picking her, taking her to her various activities, as well as managing the entire household. Thank God Lily was an easy child with a good temper, because he had a lot on his plate. And he definitely didn’t need the drama that was about to take place.

Lily had been pestering him about going to Chuck E. Cheese. It was one of her favorite places and, usually, Y/N went with her, but she didn’t have the energy. Plus, their little one was really into the trampoline section and it was definitely not ideal for an expecting mother. So it now fell upon him and it did take some convincing from his wife and older daughters but he ended up taking her. At first, he considered paying to have the place closed and avoid attention, but Y/N reminded him that the purpose of such a place was for their little girl to socialize with other children. He ended up reviewing logistics with his security team, picking a day of the week where the place would not be busy and agreeing that two guards would be waiting in a car outside, ready to intervene at any moment should anyone discover that he was there. Y/N questioned the need for security altogether but he insisted. Call it a gut feeling, parental instinct or straight up paranoia, but he felt more at ease having security around. He usually didn’t bother being escorted when it came to everyday life, but it wasn’t the usual errands in their neighborhood where everyone knew them, so it actually made sense to him. If it were just him, he wouldn’t care, but he wouldn’t take any risk regarding Lily.

His baby girl had a blast at Chuck E. Cheese, jumping around and playing games. He was happy to see her all giddy and smiling, cherishing the last moments with her as the baby of the household. Him and Y/N would never neglect her for the benefit of the babies, but he knew they would have their hands full and that moments like these would be more rare. Lily was jumping on the trampoline with a few other kids while he was sipping on some Diet Coke, texting Y/N that everything was going great when a Mom came to him.

- Hi, she said with a bright smile. Is the little girl over there yours ?

- Hi, he replied, looking up from his phone. Yeah, actually. Did something happen ? Did she fall ?

- No, relax, she said with a laugh. She’s actually super cute. She’s playing with my son over there.

- Oh, ok, he said.

- I’m Sandy, she said as she extended her hand. Marshall, is it ?

- Indeed, he said politely.

- It’s so nice to meet you, she continued. I’ve been a fan for years. Mind if I take a selfie of us ?

She already had her phone in hand, ready to take the damn selfie before he could even refuse. She was nice and rather polite and, usually, he would oblige, but he was in a Chuck E. Cheese, with his daughter nearby and now was definitely not the time to take selfies with fans, regardless of how nice they were. He immediately stopped her with a move of his hand.

- I appreciate it, Sandy, but I’d rather not take selfies now, he said as he tried to keep his composure. It’s a family place, I’m with my kid, I’m sure you understand.

- Right, she said. Sorry. I didn’t know you had a younger one. Or that you’re married…

She was looking intently at his wedding band. When he made public appearances, he made sure to take it off (in fact, his team had an explicit order to remind him) but, other than that, he wore it all the time. He immediately put his hand in his pocket.

- Well… Privacy, he simply said. That has nothing to do with hip-hop, you know ?

- Your wife is lucky, she said with a seductive grin. It’s a shame that…

- DADDY ! Lily called him, saving him from the interaction that was growing unpleasant.

- Excuse me, he said politely.

He immediately walked over to his little one, thankful that she called him when she did. She wanted to go to the tube and tunnels area with him and he happily obliged. He focused his undivided attention on Lily and soon forget about Sandy. So much so that he didn’t notice her snapping a picture of him, waiting for Lily to go down the slide. About thirty minutes later, one member of his security team came to see him.

- Mr Mathers ?

- Yeah, John ? He asked. What are you doing inside ? What’s wrong ?

- There’s an… issue, the guard said. Someone tipped off the media, there’s about ten reporters out front. We need to leave.

- Fuck, Marshall sighed. Alright. Lily, come here baby, we’re going home.

- No, Daddy, I want to stay here a little longer, the little one said with pleading eyes. We’re having fun.

- I know bug, but we’ve been here for a while now, he said. Time to go.

He tried not to communicate his anxiety to his daughter. He could see the place’s staff at the entrance, no doubt talking about the reporters. The last thing he wanted was to cause a scene. He just wanted to avoid Lily’s picture being taken.

- What do we do ? He asked the guard.

- I took the liberty to call for a couple more colleagues, just in case, John explained. They’ll be here in ten minutes. Once they arrive, I’ll walk you to the car. I think we should ask the manager if we can use the back exit.

- Good, Marshall said. Lily, put on your shoes, ok ?

- What’s wrong, Daddy ? She asked, sensing that he was nervous.

- There’s a couple of reporters outside, he calmly explained. Remember when I told you about people possibly bugging us ? We’re going to go to the car in a few minutes, and I’m going to need you to listen to me, baby. You do as I say, alright ?

His daughter nodded, nervously glancing at the door. There was a crowd, starting to gather, causing panic among the staff, and it was starting to be noisy. He took off his hoodie and his hat and put them on her. He wanted to hide her face as much as possible.

- I can’t see, Daddy, she complained.

- Just keep these on until we’re in the car, baby, he directed.

When John told him they could go, he carried Lily and they attempted to take the emergency exit, though some reporters were there as well. They retreated inside, the situation starting to get on his nerves. John offered to take Lily with him while Marshall walked to the car with another guard but the little one protested. The noise was starting to freak her out and, as soon as Marshall tried to hand her to John, she started crying.

- Daddy, no, come back ! She almost screamed.

- Baby, it’s just for two minutes, I’ll meet you in the car, he said as reassuringly as he could.

- Don’t leave, she cried. Daddy !

She was starting to sniffle and panic and he knew he couldn’t leave her like this. He held her close and tried to soothe her, tracing circles on her back.

- I’m scared, she whispered.

- I know, he said. It’s scary. But I’m taking care of it, ok ?

His team brought the car as close as they could to the exit and he sent one of them to ask the press not to swarm them. They seemed to reach an agreement, saying they just wanted pictures of him and that they would leave his child alone. He hated the idea of being photographed anyway, but this seemed like a decent deal : at least, Lily’s face wouldn’t be out there. He would allow them to take a pic of him once Lily was in the car. They finally managed to step outside as he was holding Lily who was hidden in his hat and hoodie, face buried in his neck. The reporters were asking questions about her, who she was, if he had her with Kim, but at least, they didn’t snap any pictures. He stayed silent, though, refusing to comment. He was strapping Lily in her carseat when he heard a flash. He immediately slammed the car door shut and turned, only to see a paparazzi holding a lens way too close. He instantly grabbed the camera and dropped it on the ground. The man protested, complaining about the price of his equipment but he couldn’t care less.

- I hope you have good dental insurance, Marshall warned.

- You’re not hitting me, the man taunted. We already have pics of your kid, we’ll publish them anyw-

- LEAK ONE PIC OF HER AND I’LL FUCKING DESTROY YOU, he threatened as he grabbed him by the collar. NOW YOU LEAVE US THE FUCK ALONE !

The conflict started to escalade and his bodyguards had to intervene, to protect both him and the paparazzi. He was ready to throw some fists and almost forgot that Lily was able to see the whole scene from the car. John talked some sense into him and he got in the backseat, sitting next to his freaked out daughter, letting his security drive. He helped her take his hat off, examining her tear-stained face.

- It’s alright, babygirl, he said softly. We’re safe.

- You scared me, Daddy ! She said. You screamed real, real loud.

- I know, baby, I’m sorry, he said apologetically. But I’m not letting anyone taking your picture. Because I don’t want anyone bugging you.

She nodded and he held her hand for the rest of the drive, trying to manage his own anger. If Lily had not been with him, he probably would have made a u-turn and broken a few noses. Thankfully, his team was handling everything. When they got home, he let Lily watch some TV while he went to find Y/N, who was resting in their bedroom. He wasn’t too sure how to break the news to her that, nearly four years after he adopted Lily, the press knew he had another kid. However, it seemed like he didn’t need to. She was looking at him with an annoyed look on her face.

- You already know ? He asked with a raised eyebrow. News travels fast…

- I have nothing better to do than scroll on my phone all day, she sighed. Of course I know. How is Lily ?

- Scared but ok, I guess, he said. Managed to calm her down in the car. She’s watching TV now.

- Ok, she said with a reassured expression. And you ?

He didn’t reply, simply shrugged. He wasn’t quite sure how he was feeling. Pissed off, for sure, but also nervous and disappointed. He wasn’t quite sure how much the pictures showed, and where to go from here. How would the public react to him being married, having a secret kid and two more on the way ? Paul would probably advise him to put out a statement so he should think of what to say… he would have wanted to keep his family life a secret longer. The last four years with Y/N and Lily by his side had been so enjoyable and he wanted nothing more but to shield them from his fame. And the thought of the public knowing about his unborn babies made him terrified of the potential attention they would get, too. Honestly, the thought of living his little family to another country didn’t seem so bad. He sighed and sat next to her on the bed, before eventually laying his head on her lap. Y/N gently ran her fingers in his hair, gently scratching his scalp and he closed his eyes for a minute.

- I’m sorry, he muttered.

- Whatever for ? She asked. You’re not the one who tipped the media…

- I failed to protect you guys, he sighed. I failed to protect Lily… you should have seen her, babe… you should have seen them. Hovering like vultures, screaming, scaring her.

- We always knew it might happen, she said. I’m gutted, don’t get me wrong, but we managed to protect her for five years. Married four without people knowing. In hindsight, it’s a miracle people didn’t find out sooner.

- I guess, he shrugged. Still, I’m mad at myself… I scared Lily.

- What did you do ?! She asked, suddenly alarmed.

- I… lost it with a guy, he explained. He tried to take a pic of Lily ! I grabbed him and gave him a piece of my mind.

- So you basically assaulted a man in front of our daughter ?! Y/N asked, starting to get worked up.

- Look, I’m not proud of myself, he groaned. But I wasn’t about to let him get away with that. I simply grabbed him, I didn’t break his nose. No matter how badly he would have deserved it…

- Marshall…, she scolded.

- I know, he simply said. It fucking sucks. I just wanted Lily to have a good time. Now, I’m going to have to call Paul and my publicist… fuck.

- I’m sorry, my love, Y/N said as she kept on stroking his head.

They stayed like this for a moment, enjoying each other’s comforting presence, and Y/N finally went downstairs to check on Lily. She was fine, though she did mention the whole thing was scary. Marshall stayed upstairs for a moment, gathering his thoughts and trying to pace himself before calling Paul back. His manager had tried to reach him ten times in the past hour, leaving various voice messages, urging him to call back. There were good and bad news. The good news was that Lily’s face didn’t appear anywhere, concealed thanks to Marshall’s hoodie and hat. The only thing the media saw of her were her jeans and sneakers. The bad news, however, was that the whole thing had been filmed and that images of an angry Marshall smashing the reporter’s camera were being shared on social media at the speed of light. The response was overall positive and people tended to support him instead of the reporter, who was clearly at fault. However, there was a lot of speculation and even people who claimed to have insider information, making false allegations. They had no choice but to put out a statement. They had a conference call with their publicist, who suggested only giving the necessary information. After quickly consulting with Y/N, he decided not to give any details on Lily, not giving away her name nor her age, as well as avoiding mentioning the pregnancy. The statement would only acknowledge the day’s events, as well as confirm that Lily was, indeed, his daughter and that he was married. To him, that was enough.

« As the result of the publication on social media of a picture taken without consent, today’s events have caused a lot of speculation regarding Mr Mathers’(professionally known as Eminem) family life. Mr Mathers expresses his regret for how the situation unfolded, the altercation with the press having caused distress not only for him but also for the other people present at the location. Mr and Mrs Mathers formally oppose the publication of any media depicting their child and ask for the respect of the privacy of their family life. They also express their intention to sue any individual trying to sell pictures of their daughter, as well as any media outlet who might publish them. »

In the evening, a couple of hours later, the internet was in a frenzy over the whole thing and the confirmation that Marshall was, indeed, married and had a younger daughter. A lot of people were also swooning over the pictures of him holding Lily, obsessing over his strong arms and stern look.

- The internet seems to be obsessing over you again, Y/N mentioned while he was preparing dinner.

- Well I’d rather have them forget all about me, he groaned. I swear, I’m going to retire, just to get some peace. Or move us to the edge of the earth…

- It’s not so bad, she commented. They appreciate how protective you are. Also, calling you the ultimate DILF. I don’t disagree…

- DILF, huh ? He asked with a sudden smirk.

- Look who’s suddenly in a good mood, she grinned.

- I like that you agree with them, he said with a smile. Maybe you could show me how much, later ?

- Gladly, she said as she pecked him on the cheek.

He turned his face and kissed her lovingly. They were interrupted by Lily.

- Mommy what’s that word ? She asked with a raised eyebrow.

- What word, baby ? Y/N asked.

- The one you said. DILF.

- Oh… hum… it’s a word people use when a Dad is very attractive, Y/N explained as she tried to contain her laughter. Like, when they want to talk to him and flirt…

- Like with Daddy and the lady today ? Lily asked innocently.

- Yes, like Daddy and- wait what ? What lady ?

Marshall said nothing and focused on the vegetables he was chopping for dinner, conveniently ignoring the conversation.

- There was a lady who talked to Daddy today at Chuck E. Cheese, Lily explained. She was smiling a lot.

- Interesting, Y/N said with a raised eyebrow. Looks like someone doesn’t need my appreciation…

- Come on, babe. It happens, Marshall hummed.

- Does it, now ?

- All the time, Lily said. All the mommies at my school-

- Lily, baby, how about you go and watch some cartoons before dinner, mmh ? Marshall suggested to cut the conversation short.

- Ok, the little one said with a shrug.

Y/N was leaning against the kitchen island, visibly upset and pouting. He sighed and went to hug her but she turned her head.

- Thought you agreed with the DILF thing ? He asked with a smile.

- They’re allowed to think it, not to act on it…, she groaned.

- No one’s doing anything, he chuckled. Just a couple of smiling, very friendly ladies. What’s up ? You’re usually not as upset when it comes to groupies or fans…

- I know, she said. But this is real life. Now that you’re the one going places with Lily and taking her to school… I hate thinking about all of them making eyes at you. Especially while I’m bored, at home, getting fat.

- You’re not getting fat, he chuckled. I mean, you are, you’re huge, but-

- MARSHALL !!!

- It’s because you’re growing two beautiful babies, he continued. Our babies. No one holds a candle to you. I might be a DILF but you’re the ultimate MILF.

- You think ? She asked with a pout.

- No one ever made pregnancy look so hot, he said lovingly. If you weren’t supposed to rest so much, I would gladly show my appreciation all day, everyday…

- I love you, she chuckled. But im glad that everyone knows we’re married, though.

- Territorial much, Mrs Mathers ? He asked.

- Yes, she giggled. Very.

- I like it, he chuckled.

- You have to protect what’s yours, right ?

- Right. And believe me, I’m going to do everything I can to protect what’s mine, he replied as he put a hand on her round belly.

She cooed and placed a hand over his, when they felt a little kick. They immediately looked at each other and smiled. It was the first time they felt one of the babies move. Y/N’s eyes immediately filled with happy tears and Marshall kneeled to place a kiss on his wife’s stomach.

- That’s right, guys, he said with an emotional smile. I’m always going to protect you.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #Marshall and Lily

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lotus-tower · 10 months ago

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it is horrific what we’re allowing to happen to children right now. if covid causes cognitive dysfunction and decline in adult brains, what impact will it have on small brains that are still developing? many children who are too young to even be vaccinated are catching covid, as well as a whole host of other opportunistic infections. children can get, are getting, long covid. children aren’t sick often because it’s “normal” or “good” for them—they’re sick often because they’re more vulnerable than adults.

children have no choice but to be sent to schools where they get sick again and again. they don’t have the ability to distance themselves from their parents and establish boundaries, they’re entirely reliant on their carers. if their parents do not believe in covid prevention, they have no means to protect themselves. they don’t have the ability to consent to what is happening to their health.

schools are not just allowing children who are sick to attend class anyway, they’re borderline mandating it. schools as an institution care more about meaningless attendance records than about students’ wellbeing. the classroom is an environment where all factors incentivize students coming to school sick.

there are horrific accounts from parents about kids being sick 24/7, never having energy, struggling with schoolwork. there are horrific accounts from teachers about their young students being different these days, unable to handle the usual schoolwork, showing signs of that classic covid “brainfog.” i’ve seen evidence of schools making their tests and criteria much easier in order to maintain an acceptable pass rate instead of addressing the actual core problem in the slightest.

i often think about a comment i read once about how someone knew it was fucked when no change happened after sandy hook, when the US decided and enshrined the fact that children were acceptable sacrifices. this is how it feels. this isn’t just about the US though. children are getting reinfected with covid again and again worldwide. this is about the entire next generation.

they didn’t choose any of this. they have no power to stop this whatsoever. none of us consented to this, obviously, but children most of all. most of them don’t even have any idea what’s happening to them, and won’t for years.

there needs to be a push for schools to adopt better covid prevention measures, like better ventilation and air filtration. but even more crucial, and much more difficult, is to do away with the ideology at the core of how schools are designed. just like how workers deserve sick leave, children need to be able to stay home when sick. no jumping through hoops for a doctor’s note to be accepted, no strict time limit. schools obviously know that 1 student staying home sick is less disruptive than 20 students being sick and unable to do their schoolwork. they know the math, but they aren’t after efficiency. just like companies know that happier workers are more productive. that’s not the point. it’s more obvious than ever what is choking our societies to death on every level.

i’ve seen university unions who’ve won teachers the right to demand masking in their lessons, the right to have air filters installed in their classrooms. the same needs to happen for K12 schools, especially since young children can’t advocate for themselves. parents could theoretically wield a lot of influence as well—but let’s face it, most are uninterested in or actively hostile to the idea of better air for their children. efforts to combat this need to be organized, sustained, and coordinated.

imagine how current children will feel once they grow up and look back and realize that their health was compromised before they even learned to speak, that they were born into a sick world, that they were born to be sick, not inevitably but because people preferred things this way.

#covid

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daturabouquet · 5 months ago

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Defying the Doctor's Orders. 🧪

Dottore x Fearful!Reader

[Warnings: dubious consent to examination, spanking, intimidation, violence]

As the Second Harbinger's lover, you're no longer a normal citizen. You can no longer visit regular doctors either, but what a coincidence! Your lover is a "doctor"! He'll take care of your checkups.

If only you just followed his orders...

❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎ 𝐈𝐥 𝐃𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞 ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎

"But dottore-!" You squirm, whining as he corners you. All you did was get a fever, and he's already all over you. Every single time you pass by his lab, you dread getting a glance of his examination room. The metal bed is always bloody, and you always hear screams coming from that room. Now, you're in their position. In that same exact room, screaming the same volume.

Dottore keeps on cornering you, blocking your every exit. "I thought you said you trusted me, (name)?" He tuts, grabbing your wrist with a death grip, enough to fracture your poor bones.

"I-I trust you as an individual but not as my doctor!" You quiver more, shaking like a leaf. Dottore sighs and gently coaxes you onto the hard metal bed, keeping his voice gentle and soothing. "Darling, I will never hurt you beyond what's necessary. I'd be quite disappointed if you keep fighting me off." He softly states.

As Dottore hoists you on the metal bed, you can't help but squirm even more despite his warnings, and you accidentally kick one of his nearby vials.

Shatter!

Color drains from your face. Your movements come to a halt as the doctor shows a very obvious toothy frown.

"If you were to be any other experiment you would have been dead." Dottore hisses through his teeth, now picking up something from under the table. "I reckon you'd prefer a less Doctor-like approach. I can do that dear." Dottore said, softly stroking your skin. "Let's try a disciplinary approach. Maybe giving you a clear consequence will get you to cooperate." Your curious eyes wander and finally catch a peek of what's in his other hand; a dreaded riding crop, formerly used to examine pain receptors. Dottore wants to exhaust you, swat away all of your energy for the sake of the examination. It's just a doctor's visit, he's doing this for your own good! Yet you fight him as if he's going to mutilate you. That's no way to treat your caretaker now, is it?

"D-dottore! Please- I-I'm scared-" You cry out, hopelessly begging to be set free. Kicking and crying won't help you, you know deep down just how cold-hearted your lover is. You know how he treats his "patients", and you worry deeply if he'll treat you the same.

Dottore sighs and kisses you on the lips, gently soothing your nerves. Before you can utter another word, he keeps on kissing you, gently laying you down. You can't fight back a kiss, especially one so gentle and warm. Dottore keeps pushing you down until your back finally meets the cold metal. You whimper, you can feel a panic attack coming up, but whatever thought that was in your mind went blank as your lover positioned you sideways facing him. Your face still close to his, but your bottom was exposed to the air, no longer pressed against the metal bed.

"D-dottore, w-wh-"

Your pitiful protest was cut off by a harsh swat to your poor rear.

"A-AH!" You yelp, only to be answered with another swat. You never thought your lover would ever do something like this.

Swat, Swat, Swat!

Your screams are muffled by his lips, which he clashed onto yours. Just when you thought you were safe and loved by the doctor, you get a little taste of what it's like to be truly under his control.

"Mmmph! Mm.. Mm!!"

Swat, Swat, Swat!

The sound of the rubber cracking down on your sensitive skin fills the room, along with your little sobs and sniffles.

"Why are you doing this-" You sob out, but the doctor only replies with a quick clasp to your mouth. What a great position to be in.

He shuts you up, while beating your ass senselessly with a riding crop.

"Hmm!-Mmm!!"

Your cries fall on his deaf ears.

"This is for your own good, dear."

Swat!

"I've had it with your defiance."

Swat!

"You deserve this treatment."

Swat!

Ten, twenty, thirty? Swats cracked down on you, tinting your skin a deep red. Your blue haired lover finally lets you go, with tears and drool running off your face. You can barely move, let alone struggle against him. Once he's happy with your state, he gently puts you into restraints, to prevent any more of your pathetic attempts. He snaps on a pair of clean medical gloves, before holding a flashlight.

His other hand forces your mouth to open up. With the sudden light hindering your sight, you know that you've lost, and you can only submit from this point on.

"Say Ahh..."

------

#dottore headcanons #dottore brainrot #dottore x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #dottore genshin impact #dottore #fatui harbingers #spicy like deez nuts

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safination · 8 months ago

Text

Partners in Death... and Life

Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From the Radio Should be Trusted

| Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn't Explain Himself| Part 4: The Radio Star’s Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes||Masterlist| ao3| Tag-list| Parings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem!reader, established relationship, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm still trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) Reader is in hell for a reason. Please take note of the following warnings: Body horror. Graphic descriptions of injuries, glass piercing skin, cutting of skin, cutting of chest. Dissection of Human muscles. Misogyny Just…be careful out there

Series Summary: After a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping... *checks notes*... the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason.

Hello. I usually aim to post on Wednesdays, and I knoooow it's not a Wednesday. But, in my defense, this chapter is longer than chapters 1 and 2 combined. Also, I tried to keep the body horror to a medium level. I tried to find a perfect balance of horrifying but also still readable. Would you guys want more body horror, or less, or is this a good amount? Updated: 5/01/2024 *just realized that I forgot to add the part I was supposed to add*

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The heart monitor beeps with a steady rhythm. The model’s ECG reading dip, but that’s normal for her species. You study the model asleep on your table, and take your place.

Turning to your interns, you adjust the fit of your gloves as say, “Are you ready?

From the other side of the table, Lys nods her head with such vigor that you’re afraid it would fall off. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be!”

Heme takes their place next to you, wheeling the cart within your reach. “Aren’t there supposed to be more people here?” they ask, adjusting the fit of their mask with their shoulder. “We don’t even have an anesthesiologist present, and the technician dumped the tools and left without a word!”

Sighing, you take another look at the screen, and monitor the patient’s ECG readings. Just a couple of decades ago, you wouldn’t even be allowed to take five steps into a surgical suite, but in your death, you stare at the state-of-the-art Vox technology heart monitor.

“This was dumped at the last minute. And the Vees paid a hefty amount for the best,” you say, smiling to yourself. “I guess it doesn’t help that most of the staff have clocked-off for the night already.”

“It really doesn’t,” Heme says. You think they frown, you’re not actually sure. It’s hard to tell with masks on, but Heme sounds like they’re frowning.

“On the bright side, this is a special case, and special cases require special means,” you say. “Stick around, and I’ll make sure to show you something amazing.”

Lys squeals, jumping a bit, “I can’t wait to see your work.”

You turn to Heme. “Tell how you were guided into stopping the bleeding by Doctor Neisseria.”

Heme straightens, round their shoulders. “Hemostatic dressing for the capillaries,” they recite. “Then Lys clipped the bigger vessels, and Doctor Neisseria used an electrocautery for any that we missed.”

“Good,” you say. “Lys, is this your first time using a clip?”

“ . . . Yes,” Lys tells you. Even with a mask on, you could tell she was sulking.

You eye the cart between you and Heme, double checking that the technician brought everything you requested for. “It shows,” you say. “Practice every chance you get. Make a deal with some poor and down on their luck Sinner who wouldn’t mind making a deal for permission to poke around whenever you want. They’ll heal on their own if it’s not too severe or don’t—I mean, that’s how I did mine.”

Lys blinks at you. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Your shoulder slumps. “ . . . Shall we just begin?”

Heme hands you a needle driver, the needle already clipped to it. A bunch of suture forms around your palm. It’s study, and made of pure Sinner Magical Energy, or just magic or whatever. It comes out of your and you have full control, that’s all you need to know.

Heme and Lys lean closer to observe the threads you make.

I don’t get to do this often.” You turn your head, motioning to the detached arm placed on the side. The skin has been stretched and the jagged and stringy muscle fibers sticking out tell you it’s been ripped off rather than slice. The radius protrudes out into the air, jagged and sharp. It would have hurt this model quite a lot. “Steady her arm please.”

Lys snatches the arm, holding it with confidence as she steadies it. “This is so cool.”

Heme hums. “Cool in a gross way.”

“Whether your patient is awake or not, a steady hand is key,” you say. “When you pierce your needle, be sure to do it right at the epidermis when dealing with the skin. Too deep and you’ll puncture the arteries or nerves.”

Lys brings the arm closer, and you do the first suture that will connect the limb of Velvette’s model. Valen-something apparently tore her up, but it wasn’t enough to kill her. So, they rushed her into the Emergency Room three days before this poor girl’s debut, and dropped her into your care with her arm and leg in an ice box.

You sew the model’s arm. The threads around your fingers are light, but sturdy. You entwine some around your fingers like some puppet master for better grip. Blood vessels, bones, nerves, and muscles. Not a single cell escapes your control.

You quiz your interns from time to time or tell them to take a closer look at where the vessels stick out the muscles, making sure they’re able to observe how a proper reattachment is conducted.

You study the threads connecting the arm to its body There are thousands of loose sutures. One single pull, and it will be completely reattached.

You shift your shoulders and crack your neck, giving it a slight stretch. “How long has it been?”

Lys glances at the clock behind you. “Five hours. I think it’s almost sunrise.”

“Be ready to be here for a while,” you say, rolling your shoulders. “The leg will be more complicated.”

Heme groans and their shoulder slump. “I guess I should just be thankful the model is mostly humanistic.”

You pull on the singular thread, and the stitches shorten until the arm is fully connected to its base. A thing line is the only indication that any limbs have been detached.

The door swings open and you snap your head at the sound.

“Hey doc!” The little Egg Boi saunters into the room, an envelope in his tiny hands. “I got something for you.”

Your feathers crack and sharpen. “If you wish to keep your shell,” you hiss at him, “you will leave this room before you contaminate it further.”

Egg Boi #04 wobbles a bit. “I was told to give you a message.”

A headache forms on your temples. You want to massage it, but that would contaminate your gloves. “Lys, show the egg to the observation room. Show him the microphone.”

Lys pouts a bit but exits the surgical suite.

Heme grabs the leg, and you begin again. You pause to take a deep breath. The threads don’t just appear out of thin air—they’re created because you will them to take shape. It gives as much as it needs to take from you.

Egg Boi# 04’s voice echoes on the speaker. “I have a note for you.”

“Read it then leave.” You pierce the tibia bone with your needle (special hell needle, you guess. Normal needles definitely cannot pierce bones) and connect it to the model’s leg.

Your concentration does not waver, even as Lys enters back into the room.

“ My dearest good doctor, ” Egg Boi #04 reads. “ What a helltastic day for –"

“Stop!” you exclaim, and the threads you’re producing fizzle a bit, “Is that from Alastor?”

“Uhhh . . . yes?”

“Give me 10 minutes.” You sew the model’s leg just like before, starting from bones, then vessels, the muscles, and finally skin, but this time at a much faster pace.

Thousands of strings connect the detached leg to its place.

Heme gawks at you. “I thought the leg was more complicated?”

“It is.”

“It took you five minutes to sew everything ,” they say. “Why did it take the arm until sunrise?”

“You wouldn’t have been able to learn anything if I went too fast.” You hand the needle driver to Heme, who takes it with eager hands “I trust you will be able to close for me?”

“Yes!”

“Go around the skin—remember not too deep,” you say. “Once it’s all connected, just one strong pull and the threads should work their magic. Lys, once she closes, you can practice your knots.”

The door closes with a swing. You discard your gloves then peel off your protective layers, but you keep the scrub cap on your head.

The Egg Boi waddles into the room, threatening to tip any moment. He holds up Alastor’s note and you’re forced to bend when you reach for it.

You open the envelope and sigh. “This is a letter, and definitely not a note ,” you say counting all the pages jammed into the envelope. “Notes are small pieces of paper, and not fifteen pages of paper scribbled back-to-back.”

You take one deep breath, flaring your nostrils as you contemplate your marriage choices, and begin reading.

Heme enters the holding room as you’re reading through the last page.

They take a look at the pages you’ve read. “Ohhhhh a letter?” they say, discarding their mask into the trash. Their gloves are next. “Who is it from?”

“My husband.”

“Why a letter?” Heme asks you “Why not just shoot you a text or a phone call?”

“He mumbles to himself when he writes, and he just loves hearing his own voice.” You turn to the Egg Boi once you’ve read the last word. “Tell Alastor I’m busy—I can’t leave work to go to the hotel on such short notice!”

“Right . . .” Heme leans against the sink. “Management will be dropping by this afternoon.”

Your eyes squint. “This afternoon? I was told there'd be visiting tomorrow!”

“Yes, they informed you last night,” Heme says. “It’s tomorrow now—morning, actually.”

Your eyes twitch as you turn to Egg Boi #4. “Tell him I will be early. Now go, run along now, lest you get scrambled.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Bustling sounds from the other side of the circus themed doors. You knock then take a step backwards, least Vaggie greets you with a fist to the face.

A crash sounds from the inside. The door slams open, and Charlie pops out, hair disheveled and sticking out in odd places. You see the relief oozing into her. Charlie’s smile relaxes and her eyes stop bulging at the sight of you.

She says your name with enthusiasm. “It’s just you! I am so glad to see you.”

You wave at her. “Hello, Charlie. It’s good to see you as well.”

“Would you like to come inside?” she says at the same time another crash sounds. Charlie’s smile turns sheepish. “I hope you don’t mind the mess.”

“It’s quite alright,” you say with a polite smile. “Who am I to judge another person’s mess? It can be quite entertaining sometimes.”

Charlies smoothens the stray hairs sticking out. It does little to actually fix it. “Sooooo what brings you by? Not that you’re not welcome here! Everyone is welcome here! We don’t discriminate at –”

The door swings wider and Alastor pops out with that permanent smile of his. “I called her here.”

Alastor helps you out of your coat as you enter through the doors, and drapes it over his arm. “I came early. I hope you don’t mind,” you say, glancing at the crudely attached banners. Strobe lights are being taped to the railings. Its brightness makes you blink. “Are you throwing a party? Is that why you called me here?”

Alastor hangs your coat on the rack. “We’re preparing for a sudden guest,” he says. “It seems we’ll have to delay our plans, only if you’re happy with waiting for me.”

Charlie shrinks and her eyes water a bit. “Alastor . . .,” she says with a frown. “If you have plans, that’s alright—go. We can manage without you here!”

“Not at all, this is where he needs to be right now,” you tell Charlie, placing a hand on her shoulder. Her smile brightens immediately. “Who will be the special guest today?”

Charlie fiddles with her fingers. “We invite my . . . dad .”

Alastor twirls his microphone. “The King of Hell himself.”

“Oh,” you start, “ the demon is coming here?”

“That’s actually Satan,” Charlie says with a smile. “Dad often gents confused with Satan but they’re not the same

“Oh . . . So, Lucifer is coming here.”

“Pretty much.”

You laugh a bit—you’re not even sure why. Maybe you shouldn’t have laughed. It sounded so awkward, even to you. “Well, how can I help? If it’s alright with you, of course.”

Charlie’s eyes brighten, and she shakes your shoulders. “Are you sure?”

Alastor grabs Charlie’s fingers with the tip of his own and pry them off you. “I’ve already come all this way,” you say, and turn to your husband. “I’m sure we can make the most out of this situation.”

Charlie leaves to change her clothes, and hopefully brush her hair while she’s at it.

Alastor offers his arm, and you loop your own around his, even when you know it’s unnecessary to escort you to a living area that’s five-feet away.

He leaves you, walking to the kitchen with a wave of his microphone.

The hotel looks the same, just more diverse colors hanging around. Niffty stalks past you without a word, engrossed in her task of sweeping the floor. Angel Dust or Vaggie don’t seem to be around, nor is Husk at his usual post. Only a one-eyed cat keeps you company.

On the table, deflated balloons are left forgotten with two pumps resting next to it. You take your seat, and complete the unfinished task.

You’re on the third balloon when Alastor presents a mug to you.

He leans over the chair, reaching his arms to place that ‘ Oh Deer’ mug on the table. It’s difficult to meet his eyes when he leans so far in front that his whole face is upside down.

His hair hangs in the air, and your husband looks goofy in such an awkward position that you can’t help but laugh. “You look awful this hellish morning!” he says, and his grin widens until his teeth show. “I thought you could use a bit of brightening up. You’re practically dozing off in the chair.”

“Thank you,” you say, a small smile on your face. “The coffee smells good.”

Alastor swings back, and lands next to you. “I know we agreed to leave such tasks to you,” he says and he waves his arms as he talks. “But you look ready to drop dead any second. Poor Niffty had swept about a hundred feathers on your short walk from the door to this chair—Long day?”

“ Longer day, actually. Yesterday’s long day turned into a late night that bleeds into today’s early morning.” You take a sip, and revel in its taste. Even after all these years . . . his coffee still tastes like acidic bean water. (If you smile, then that’s your business.) “The coffee tastes good.”

Alastor crosses his leg, cracking a laugh hard enough for his eyes to bulge. “You didn’t even try to check if it’s been tampered,” he says with that same wild smile. “Are you that tired, my love?”

You smile at him, lips curving bright and wide. “My deerest, did you place something into my coffee?”

“Not at all.”

“That’s disappointing,” you say, taking another sip. “That suit of yours could use some brightening up! A splash of this bean water would add such an interesting texture to it.”

“We’ll it good to see you’re not tired enough to lose your way with words,” Alastor says, smiling at you. “But if you’ve had a ‘ longer’ day, you could have sent the Egg Boy—"

“It’s Egg Boi, my deerest.”

Alastor squints, his brow furrowing as he does. “That’s what I said.”

“You said Egg Boy, deerest,” you tell him, taking a longer sip than usual to drown your laughter. “Those eggs are called Egg Bois . They have different numbers—except Frank.”

On the corner of his cheek—just where it’s always been—Alastor’s smile strains. “You said the same thing as I did.”

“Egg Bois.”

“Egg Boys.”

“Egg Bois .”

“Egg Boys .”

You chuckle a bit, and take another long slip. “If you say so.”

Alastor rolls his eyes and he makes it a point to show you he’s doing so. “You could have mentioned to that egg creature that you’d had a long day.”

“Management was dropping by my floor today.” You grab another balloon to pump it.

Alastor’s head tilts, and you hear the small crack of his neck. Static fills the air. “Well, I’m always glad to be used in such a way.”

You roll your eyes, making it a point to show Alastor that you’re doing so. The sharpened feathers and the glow of your eyes were just for the fun of it. “There is another reason why I dropped by the hotel.”

“Do tell!”

You knot the end of the balloon and throw it to the side. “Who am I to refuse the summon of the Radio Demon?”

“His wife.”

You snort, and toss a balloon at him. One balloon becomes two and now you’re just tossing whatever balloon you could get your hands on.

Alastor pops a balloon and static emits from his microphone.

You cross your arms, staring down at him. “I was going to use that.”

Alastor grabs the second pump.

An hour passes too soon. They always seem to do around your husband. The balloons are stringed and weighted. Razzle and Dazzle—the two lambs Charlie made a point to introduce you too—put up . . . er . . . interesting banner on the railings.

Sir Pentious slithers out the kitchen, a tray of cookies in his hold. The Hazbin Hotel looks lively. The space looks decent—live in — as if Sinners actually gathered and used the space. (Those are your favorite kind.)

Sir Pentious offers a cookie to you, and you munch on it. You give him a compliment for its taste.

By the entrance, with Vaggie to her side and Alastor at the other, Charlie takes a deep breath, her nostrils flaring as she does.

Vaggie gives her a smile, and Charlie opens the door.

The bringer of sin rushes to his daughter, drowning her in a hug.“Chaaaaarlie!”

Charlie squirms in his hold. “Heeeyy, Dad!”

Egg Boi #13 and Egg Boi #08 twist their poppers and confetti pops into the air. Niffty grabs her broom, sweeping the floor.

You watch Lucifer, and try to hide your smile. The King of Hell looks different from any paintings or drawings humans make. They can’t seem to capture how shy he looks. How awkward. No painting has been able to capture his search for a place to belong.

This Fallen Angel has blond hair. He’s not the brunette you thought he’d be, which was a shame for you rather liked brunets. It makes sense he’d be blond. Afterall, Charlie has blonde hair as well, and she is the spitting image of her father.

If someone told you it was Lucifer who birthed her, you wouldn’t be able to deny it.

“It’s finally nice to put a name to the face.” Alastor shakes Lucifer’s hand with his microphone, wiping his own right after. “You are much shorter in real life.”

You turn aways, coughing to hide your laughter as Alastor banters with Lucifer.

Husk rolls his eyes at you and grumbles. “Of course, you’d find that hilarious,” he says. “Everyone knows it's smart to insult Lucifer.”

You place a hand on your cheek. “Guilty as charged.”

Charlie brings Lucifer to meet your group. He calls Vaggie, Maggie. Smiles awkwardly when Angel Dust calls him a ‘short king’ . Lucifer waves back when Husk waves at him, and shrinks when Niffty jumps and pulls him by the collar. One by one, you’re introduced.

You extend your arm for a handshake.

Lucifer smiles awkwardly, shrinking a bit, but reaches out to shake your ha—

The chandelier crashes to the floor.

And oh God . . .

Lucifer begins to sing.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Your hair sticks to your face.

Water droplets splash on your clothes. You accept your fate, and trudge through the rain, even as your fingers freeze. The breeze blows your hair, making you nuzzle into your damp coat. You should have brought an umbrella, or taken a cab. Just your luck, a sunny day turns into a drizzle that turns your shoes into a lake. You hate damp socks.

An umbrella blocks the rain from your soaked clothes.

You spring out of its coverage, spinning to look behind. Your arms jerk out, causing you to wobble because of the wet pavement. (That’s totally not embarrassing.)

“The point of an umbrella is to stay underneath it when it’s raining.” Alastor smiles, giving you a small wave.

You wave back.

“Oh . . . hello,” you say, adjusting the straps of your bag. Alastor takes a step forward, and you jump backwards. “I’m alright—I can manage by myself.”

“Why don’t you tell me all about your very capable self from underneath the umbrella,” he says, twirling the umbrella. “Come on, now.”

You dip your head inside. Alastor inches closer, but there’s still a respectable gap between your shoulders. “I’m really alright,” you say. “I quite love the rain.”

“Yes, the rain is a beautiful thing to frolic underneath when you’re in a meadow,” Alastor says. You can’t help but feel that Alastor is scolding you, “not when it splashes off buildings and drips off power lines and other items that have not been cleaned. We are in the city, my dear.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“My mother would roll in her grave and haunt me when she finds out I left a lady in the rain.”

“But—”

“Constant refusal is quite rude, you know,” he tells you. “And I still owe you one favor.”

“You really wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Alastor says with a smile that makes you smile back. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, I’m happy to leave my umbrella in your umbrella-less but capable hands, and be on my way.”

You shake your head, inching closer. “We can share if you don’t mind walking.”

“I love walks. It keeps me stimulated.”

Alastor follows your every step, covering you with an umbrella that was meant for one. You glance at his shoulder, and turn away to hide your frown. Half of his shoulder sticks out into the rain, gathering droplets, while not a single speck of water slides on you.

Alastor is giving you the bigger half of the umbrella.

“Would you mind holding this?” he asks.

“Not at all,” you say, and take a hold of his umbrella. Alastor is taller, and you have to quirk your arms higher to avoid hitting his head.

Alastor slips out of his coat. You watch him slide it off his shoulders and pull his arm out the slits. He’s wearing a vest—a fine vest as well. Alastor flicks out stray waterdrops. He leans close enough for you to smell his cologne. He drapes his coat over your shoulders, grabbing the lapels to adjust its fit. His body heat lingers. It’s warm . . . he’s warm.

Alastor pries the umbrella from your grip with a wide smile. “Before you say anything, the only response that I will be accepting is, ‘thank you’.”

“Thank you, Alastor.”

“You’re welcome.” He adjusts the angle of the umbrella, careful to keep every drop of rain from touching you, even at the cost of his own clothes. “Whatever made you decide to walk? There are cabs and busses for a reason.”

“It wasn’t that bad when I started,” you say. “Plus, I was eager to get home.”

He keeps his eyes ahead. “It’s still quite dangerous.”

You step over a puddle, narrowly missing it. “Dangerous?”

“Yes!”

“The sun is—well, was still up when I began walking.”

Alastor hums, shaking his head. “Murders and thieves do not magically dissolve in the sun.”

You smile to yourself. “I’m sure you’re quite knowledgeable on that subject.”

Alastor turns to you, and his hair shifts as he tilts his head. “Pardon?”

“I heard your voice on the radio this morning,” you tell him, adjusting his coat around your shoulders. “I caught the news segment.”

“Well,” he starts, his smile widening. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “you must have been busy when I mentioned the forecast then.”

You inch closer as much as he’ll allow you, trying to keep a respectable distance, but still close enough that Alastor doesn’t need to sacrifice his clothes to keep yours dry. “Speaking of radio, what brings you to this area?” you say. “Isn’t the radio station all the way across town?”

Alastor laughs in a way that makes you wish you’ve kept your mouth shut. “Have you been tracking my movements?”

“Not at all,” you say and try to mimic his laugh. It comes out strained instead. “I just know how to read a map.”

Alastor steps over a puddle. He places a hand on your back, guiding you away from it. “I just had some business in the area,” he says and drops his hand. “I turned the corner and I found you walking all alone in the rain!”

You smile, careful to keep your eyes forward. “I’m thankful to whatever beings that fated our paths to cross.”

Alastor leans closer, eyeing your hands. “Been gardening recently?”

You glance at your nails, at where stubborn soil sticks underneath the cuticle. “No . . . not at all,” you say slowly. “I guess you could say . . . light treasure hunting . . . ?”

“The more I get to know you, the more I find myself dumbfounded at your wide range of hobbies.”

“I hate seeing things go to waste.” You try to ignore the squish of your socks. You are definitely never forgetting your umbrella again. “For example, your garbage is my treasure.”

“What a wonderful philosophy to live by.” Alastor meets your eyes and smiles.

You smile back. “Indeed, isn’t it?”

Alastor’s hold on the umbrella stays firm, even as he follows you around the corner and across the street. Not a single drop of water lands on you. “What treasure were you able to find?”

“You have a lot of questions for me today,” you say and ignore the thumping of your heart. “I feel as if you know me more than I know you—I think that’s rather unfair.”

“Well, what would you like to know?”

You move your foot to avoid puddles of trash. The city could really use a good cleaning. “You know so much about my hobbies. So, I’d like to know some of yours.”

“There isn’t really much to tell,” he says. “The radio is my life.”

A strong breeze has you sinking deeper into Alastor’s coat. “You have your hunts.”

You glance at Alastor, and oh . . . his hair is as brown as his eyes. Wisps of hair stick to his face because of the rain.

Alastor’s brows furrow a bit, but you swear his smile turns sweet. “Those are more of a necessity than a hobby.”

“In what way?”

“The woods around my area have a lot of . . . let’s say, mammals that don’t necessarily belong there, it is as if someone just leaves them from time to time. I hunt a few here and there to thin the population a bit.”

You smile to yourself. “Well, tell me about the radio—What is that like?”

He places his free hand on his chest. “Why, it is the proper medium of expressing oneself, of course.”

“It must be nice having such a creative outlet,” you say. “Sometimes, I wonder how you’re able to come up with the most exciting segments.”

“Sadly, you would think after all these years of bringing success and money into the company, I would be allowed to have more control over my content.”

You step over another puddle. A small tug on Alastor’s arm, and he steps over it as well. “That is quite sad to hear.”

“For example,” he starts, adjusting his hold on the umbrella. “I wanted to have this whole portion just on crimes that have been committed.”

“Like . . . the news?”

“No, not at all,” he says. “I was thinking more on the lines of old cases like robberies and murders—some solved, some not. Unfortunately, the director said it would be too gruesome.”

“It really depends on how you choose to present it,” you say. “I think audiences would love a good mystery with a satisfying conclusion.”

“That is exactly what I thought so as well!” Alastor’s smile widens. “I came across this story . . . Oh, well I wouldn’t want to bother you with the details.”

“I’d love to hear this,” you say, chuckling. “Show me how you would present it.”

“One winter night,” he starts off with that never ending smile on his lips, “a child—no ordinary child—disappears in the middle of the night. There were no signs of a break in and nothing other than the child was taken from the home. Not a single dust was out of place.”

“Wait, what was so special about the child?”

“I will tell you,” he says. “That child was the two-year old son of aviator Charles Lindenberg! Some newspapers called the child the ‘Eaglet’ because his father had become the first man to fly across the Atlantic Oce—Oh, why are we stopping?”

He angles the umbrella, careful to keep you dry. You smile at him and point at the small apartment complex behind you. “This is where I live.”

Alastor doesn’t frown, but his smile droops a bit. “Oh . . . ” he says. “I was getting to the most interesting portion of the story—what a shame.”

“A shame, indeed,” you echo. “You have such a captivating way of conveying your words.”

“Thank you.”

The rain splatters on the umbrella. It’s not going to stop anytime soon. Your socks are damp and it’s starting to get colder. “Would you like to finish what you were saying?”

Alastor’s smile widens, just a bit, but it was enough for you to notice. “On the month of May, after continuous searching, a tiny little corpse was found abandoned on the side of the road. Forensics determined that the baby was bludgeoned to death.”

“It’s quite funny,” you tell him. “You talk of such gruesome murders but I find myself captivated.”

“Indeed.”

“Thank you for going out of your way for me, Alastor.” You slip out of his coat, returning it to him. It’s cold—has it always been this cold. “Will I see you around?”

“Of course,” he says. “We always meet in such unconventional places.”

You duck out of the umbrella, giving him one last smile and head up the steps. A twist of a doorknob, a few flights of stairs, and you would be home. You were tired, your socks are soaking, and the back of your clothes stick to your skin. So, why . . . why do you find yourself running back into the rain?

“Wait!” you find yourself exclaiming.

Alastor covers you with his umbrella. “What’s wrong?”

‘I . . . I may have a problem.” The words are slipping out of your lips. “Are you busy by any chance?”

“Not at all.”

“What about your business in the area?”

Alastor raises his eyebrows. “I can always come back.”

“Would you help me?” You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Of course.” Alastor brings the umbrella closer to you. “What can I do for you?”

“I think . . . ” you begin to say. Stop. Stop! You should turn back; head inside where warm clothes and a bath awaits you. “I think I’m in the wrong area.”

Alastor laughs, and it’s that same breathy and light laugh as before. He drapes his coat over your shoulder once more, and adjusts its fit to secure it around you. It’s the warmest thing you’ve ever experienced in your life. “I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I left a lady stranded in the rain.”

“Not at all,” you say with a smile that you do not remember smiling. “Lots of scary thieves and murders out there—apparently they don’t disappear during the day.”

Alastor nudges you along, down the path, to a destination either of you have the faintest idea where it will end.

Your feet stay locked in its place, and you hold Alastor in your gaze. (His bowtie is crooked, and even with his coat around you, he looks presentable. His vest matches his shoes. You note how his smile is asymmetrical, and how his eyes are still as brown as his hair. Alastor’s glasses are frosted, but he doesn’t seem to mind.)

“Are you alright?” Alastor asks you.

“I’m fine. It’s just . . . .” You shake your head and smile. “It would be a waste to forget this.”

“Come on,” Alastor says in a voice that is oh so soft. He offers his arm, and you hook your own around his.

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“ Motherfucker! ” Husk curses into the air, his ears quirking as he does. “Would it fucking kill you to be gentle with that shit?”

“I am being gentle.” You stare him down, keeping the towel pressed firmly against his foot. “Would you want to know what it’s like when I’m not? I’d be very happy to comply.”

“ . . . No.”

“Then settle down, Husker ,” you say and use your free hand to grab the forceps from the hotel’s medical kit. “This will be much easier if you stay still . . . or don’t and give yourself a harder time. I’m not the one with glass sticking out of my foot.”

Husk sinks into the clinic bed, sulking as he crosses his arms. He picks on the pillow, fidgeting with its seams. “ Bitch. ”

You raise your eyebrows and huff. “ Virgin. ”

“I am not . . .grandma. ” Husk’s fangs show when he growls.

Your feathers bristle. It’s smart to keep Husk talking, even if hurling insults is the way to do so. If it keeps him distracted, you won’t complain. “I died in my late twenties . . . or was it my early thirties — I honestly forget.”

The blood on his foot begins to clot, and you toss the towel to the waste basket. You walk to the sink, rinsing stray droplets of Husk’s blood with soap.

“Settle down then, grandma,” he says with a triumphant smile, and you roll your eyes. “Today, it’s your memories. Tomorrow, it could be anything.”

You plop on the clinic chair, waiting for your hands to dry. “Yes, it would make sense you’re familiar with the signs,” you shoot back, “considering you lived long enough to be called Pawpaw — Is that why you’re a cat?”

Husk barks a laugh, his wings flaring. He grabs the pillow and tosses it to you. It hits the side of the chair and langs on your lap. You pick it up and toss it back at him. “At least my husband didn’t walk out on me for several years without so much as a word.”

You chuckle, and settle his foot on your leg for better access. Taking your forceps, you brush away slivers of glass from Husk’s foot . . . or would this be his paw?

You clip a shard of glass, and glance at him. When Husk doesn’t whine like a little bitch, you pull a shard and drop it to the metal pan across you. “At least my marriage lasted even through death, Arachnid Simp.”

Husk rolls his eyes. You smile when his whiskers twitch. “Where did you even learn that word?”

“I see you’re not going to deny it.”

Husk sinks deeper into the bed.

“This wouldn’t be happening if you—I don’t know—wore these things called shoes ?” You pluck another shard of glass. Husk tries to jerk his foot away, but your hold stays firm. “They were invented a long, long, time ago, and were created to keep your feet protected .”

“Stop talking as if I’m a child.” Husk frowns and his teeth stick out. “Wearing them feels weird.”

“I guess they kind of are weird.” You grab a fresh towel when blood squirts out of Husk’s foot. “You die and then suddenly waking up to see you don’t have toes

A beat passes between you. “Do you . . . do you not have toes?”

You toss the towel, and pick out the last shard. “Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.”

“ What does that even mean ?” Husk growls, running his palms over his face.

“I . . . have absolutely no idea.”

You reach into the medical kit, grabbing some dressing. You peel the plastic and toss it to the trash, and press it against his foot.

Egg Boi #03 waddles up to you, a gauze roll in his tiny hands — you weren’t aware the little egg creature was in the room. You thank him with a smile, and wrap the gauze roll around Husk’s paw then his ankle. Satisfied, you clip it in its place.

“You’re all done,” you say. “It might be weird to step on it for a few hours, but it’s not impossible. The glass didn’t puncture you too deep.”

“Good to know.”

“Oh . . . and just in case, the amount of blood you saw isn’t anything to be scared of. There’s just a lot of tiny vessels on the foot. That’s why it took a while for it to stop,” you say and toss him a new set of gauze rolls and pads.

Husk stares at the items. “I don’t know how to use this.”

You stare at him, leaning into the chair. “Just slap the square on the skin and roll the gauze around your foot.”

Husk hops out of the clinic, keeping pressure off his injury.

It takes a while to clean up after yourself, but Egg Boi #03 keeps you company. The little egg speaks a lot of nonsense, but it’s entertaining nonetheless. You flick the lights, and Egg Boi #03 follows behind you.

The chandeliers had been dragged away, and the glass and debris cleared off the carpet.

Mimzy’s hug makes you take a step back.

You squirm in her hold, placing a placating hand on her shoulders.

“I am sooooo glad you are here!” Mimzy exclaims, shaking your shoulders. “This is like one big reunion, ay. Just between you and me, that Lucifer is a real looker—shame on Alastor for not warning a gal. I would have dressed better, and who knows? Maybe I could be the Queen of Hell. Ha! ”

Mimzy grabs your arm and drags you to the bar. Husk pours you a drink with a nod, and stalks away. Seeing him hop up the stairs makes you laugh.

You swirl your drink. “It’s always good to see you, old friend.”

“Not that old!” Mimzy swats your arm, a huge grin on her lips. “And there’s no need to lie to me, darling. I doubt you actually feel that way.”

“Well, I still have those burn marks on my wall from the time you decided to play bartender with matches.”

Mimzy barks a laugh, and her legs kick. “C’mon you can’t still be blaming me! If I remember correctly, it was Alastor who brought out the matches.”

Angel Dust walks up to you with Sir Pentious trailing behind him. You wave.Sir Pentious waves back, his hood flapping open.

“Mind if we join ya?” Angel Dust asks.

“Not at all,” Mimzy says. “I’m always weak to such lookers.”

Angel Dust takes the seat next to you and pushes back his hair. Sir Pentious takes the one behind him. “Sooooo, you two and Alastor run in the same circles.” He takes a drink. “And you guys are friends with him?”

You take a sip of your own drink. “You could describe it that way.”

“Well, those are your words, not mind, but I think it fits.” Mimzy glances at you, a knowing smile on her lips. “But our good doctor here is more than just—Hey! Why do you look so surprised?”

“Well, I just didn't know he had any of those. He's been here a while and is still a big, creepy mystery,” Angel Dust says. Sir Pentious nods, his head squeaking as he does “What's his deal?”

Mimzy is happy to explain tall, dark, and creepy’s ‘deal’ .

“But before that, he was the prime bachelor of my day,” Mimzy says. “Not a single lady wouldn’t want a taste of that twink. But eh . . . I wouldn’t wish marriage with Alastor on even my worst enemies. It would be a real shock when you die and find out your hubby’s got a real screw loose.”

“Well, it wasn’t a shock to me,” you say, rolling your eyes. You swirl your drink—hmmm, it’s good to know Husk still knows what you like.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” Mimzy chuckles nervously. She scoots closer, elbowing you lightly. “You happy he’s back? I still remember the few months you’d visit my place to look for your deerest, most darling Alastor, Mimzy at the bottom of a bottle.”

Your eyes twitch. “Quite pleased actually,” you say and force a smile. “It’s great to finally see my husband again.”

“ Husband? ” Angel Dust chokes on his drink.

Sir Pentious tilts his head and his hat slides off a bit. “Oh you’re married?”

You show them your ring, wiggling your finger. “Indeed.”

Sir Pentious puffs out his chest. “I would love to meet thisss husband of yours,” he says. “If you cannot be my rival, he can fight in your stead.”

“That wouldn’t be a smart idea

Mimzy stares at him. “He’s not the brightest is he?”

Angel Dust drops his drink with a clink. “ Pause ,” he splutters. “Shut u—” He coughs, still reeling from his drink going down the wrong pipe. “Shut up. Plause. Pause!”

Sir Pentious frowns, and his tongue sticks out. “No one elssseee is talking.”

“There is no way,” Angel Dust says. He turns to you, eyes bulging. “I refuse to believe that Freaky got hitched.”

Sir Pentious gapes, and his hoop opens. “Alastor is married as well?”

Mimzy slaps her forehead and points to you. “He’s married to her!”

“You are mess’in with me,” Angel Dust says. “Well, you can’t trick me. I refuse to believe it, toots.”

Mimzy takes a swig of her drink. “No one’s mes’in with ya,” she says with bright eyes. “They had a big white wedding and everything. I even got to bless them with my singing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Mimzy glares at Angel Dust, a hand on her hips and her noise in the air. “You calling me a liar?”

You place a hand on Mimzy’s shoulder. “It was a good day, wasn’t it?” you say.

“Could’ve been better without the rain,” she says shrugging.

The lights flicker. Static fills the air, making your skin buzz. The bar glows a faint green. “The rain made it sentimental actually,” you say and glance up the stairs. “We quite like the rain.”

Angel Dust crosses both sets of arms. “I thought you said you were friends.”

“ I said partners,” you tell him. “Alastor said friends.”

Angel Dust blinks at you and sighs. “So, you married him? Like you’re his wife.”

“I am, indeed!”

“Are you sure?”

“I sure hope so,” you say, crossing your legs. “It would be weird not to be sure considering I was there in a white dress, walking down the aisle.” Mimzy barks a laugh, and the feathers on her head sway. A part of you hopes she topples off the chair.

“Uh . . . Is this something we should know?” Angel Dust asks. “He’s not going to try to kill me because I learned about this right?”

“We’re not trying to hide it, but we don’t broadcast it either,” you say. “And well . . . no wife likes to be introduced as a ‘ friend ’.”

Sir Pentious’ tongue sticks out. “Does Alasssstor own your soul or something?”

You empty your drink and revel in the taste. “We got married back when we were alive.”

Angel Dust reaches across the bar, grabbing a whole bottle off the shelf with his long arms. He pops open the cork and takes a swig straight from the bottom. “I still have trouble belive you,” he says, squinting his eyes. “I just . . . I can’t!”

“Your belief, or lack of, won’t change the fact that I have a ring,” you say. “And it’s not really for you to believe, now is it?”

“Why . . . ?” Angel Dust’s mouth quirks into the cutest frown. “Why . . . ya’know?”

You sigh and place a hand on your cheek with a smile. “He makes me laugh.”

Angel Dust makes a face, and coils back like he’s been shot.

“Oh he’s a total kitten,” Mimzy says with a bright smile. She inches her glass closer to Angel Dust, and he fills it up for her. “Catch him in a good mood or pour him a drink and play some jazz and he’s totally harmless.”

“You still shouldn’t toss caution into the air, Mimzy” you say. “If I were you, I’d be wary about trusting Alastor just because he likes cleaning up your mess.”

Angel Dust crosses his arm, and his eyebrows quirk. “Ain’t he your hubby?” he says. “Isn’t there this whole spiel about trust and love and faith and all that other boring vanilla shit.”

“He wouldn’t be the Radio Demon if he could be trusted by just anyone, now would he?” you say. “It still crosses me when I remember how he lied to me.”

Angel Dust’s eyes shine. “You said no wife likes being introduced as a ‘ friend ’.”

“Yes?”

“It must have crossed you quite a lot, huh?”

You shrug, a bit confused. “I mean . . . I wasn’t really a big deal at the end of the day.”

Angel Dust’s smile widens and that golden tooth of his shimmer. “I want to know everything .”

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Despite the rain, clear skies show the moon, not a cloud in sight.

The flashlight clipped on your collar shines on your path. Your boots sink deep into the mud, but that’s alright. A few inches of goo won’t stop you from your destination. You adjust your leather medical bag—double checked that there are gloves inside.

Between those two trees, your treasure lies buried.

You lay your kit on some nearby stones and reach in for your gloves. You dig until bits of the cadaver’s skin stick out. You brush the soil of his chest and peel open the flaps of his skin. The underside of his skin has blood vessels attached to it. It was worth cutting out the fat to have a glimpse.

Superficial fascia connects his muscles to his dermis. You take your probe and disconnect the thin filament. It reminds you of spider-webs.

You discard your probe and exchange it for the bottle of formaldehyde. You can’t study the whole body, not when it’s exposed to the elements. His fingers are starting to rot, but that’s alright. The chest is all you need, for now. So, the chest is all you’ll preserve.

The cheesecloth you placed on him last night is still damp. Good, that means it’s been sanitized this whole time. You take the cheesecloth and wipe it against his open cavity, sanitizing every surface you can reach.

The formalin stings your nose and burns your eyes. It makes you cough, but you push through the pungent chemical.

You peel off the cheesecloth and use it to spread formalin into the deeper crevices between his skin and muscle.

Good. There are no maggots yet. It means you still have time.

You discard your gloves for a fresh pair and prepare your tools. You take your forceps and clip the scalpel blade onto the handle. You lay all your tools on a clean cloth for easy reach.

A human’s adipose tissue buildup is thicker than animals. This man’s fat is soft, easily squishable. Sadly, you’re not here to study his fat.

The scalpel blade is balanced perfectly. Throughout this Earth, no . . . not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.

You slice through his adipose tissue, discarding it behind you, carving the cadaver until a nice rectangle opening forms. Muscles are grey, not like the red color printed on textbooks. You run your fingers along the smooth fibers of his pectorals. It’s slimy. That’s probably moisture mixing with the formaldehyde.

You quirk your shoulder to adjust the angle of your flashlight, still running your hand on his pectoral.

There, on the side of the chest where a muscle resembles a fan, do you find what you’re looking for.

Taking your probe, you define the muscle. You don’t use your scapple—never a scapple, because it could slice the fibers. You’ll scrape off the muscles later when it’s time to move on to the systems.

You take a pen and write your notes.

Muscle name: Serratus Ventralis. Description: The Serratus Ventralis appears to be a fan-shaped muscle, just like Hyman writes it to be. Although he’s not describing humans, I think it looks the same. Willd double check to see if such similarities are indeed correct. Just like the book says, I can see the muscle extending anteriorly and posteriorly from the scapula and to the walls of the thorax. The Serratus Ventralis appears to be divisible into anterior and posterior portions, with the anterior originating deeper into the body. (Will cut open if there is still time.) The posterior border seems to be where it originates from, and while it is buried by other muscles, I think it originates from somewhere between the ribs.

Origin, Insertion, Action: Origin: Textbook says it originates from the outer surfaces of the upper eight or nine ribs. (Will double check once I’ve moved on.) Insertion: The muscle fibers appear to move upward to the side. Inserts along the anterior surface of the medial border of the scapula Action: If it indeed is inserted from the scapula, this could mean that it could draw the scapula, forward, backward or against the body.

You flip to the previous page, and cross out Serratus ventralis. You move on to the muscle on your list: Xiphihumeralis. Based on the name, the muscle should pass through the xiphoid process to the sternu—

“Is this what you meant about my trash being your treasure?”

You startle, jumping back until a tree hits you and there’s nowhere else to escape. Run. Run. Run! Your heart screams at you, hammering in your chest. No one is supposed to be here. You’re supposed to be alone. You were careful—not careful enough, apparently.

Alastor emerges from the trees.

He waves at you when your gazes meet, but you don’t wave back. He’s smiling. “Hello,” he greets you with a gentle voice that strikes your core. It would be foolish to mistake his gentleness for kindness. “And yet again, I’m forced to comment on how you have such interesting hobbies.”

You press deeper into the tree, even if a knot digs into your back. “This . . . .” You pause, trying to find your voice. Do you run? “This isn’t a hobby. I’m merely studying.”

Alastor drops a bag on the ground. It looks heavy. “A man?”

“A cadaver,” you say, careful to keep your voice steady. You cannot let this man see any cracks. “They’re already dead, aren’t they? Wouldn’t it be a waste to let them rot like this? At least now, their sorry lives will be making a meaningful contribution.”

The admission of your crime was easy to say. You don’t want to know what that means about you.

Alastor laughs. It’s not that breathy and light laugh he had earlier. This one is lighter, more elated. “Please, tell me more.”

You harden your heart, searching for any speck of bravery. “Why would I?”

Alastor smiles until his teeth show. The moon makes his brown eyes glow—you did not think it would be such an attractive color. “I’m the one holding the large knife.”

You glance at his hand, and oh . . . that indeed is quite a large knife. It’s not even a kitchen knife, but a proper hunting blade meant to kill. “I see you’re resorting to threats,” you say and you don’t know why you do. It’s not really a smart idea. “I did not think you, a man, would feel the need to say such things to a woman.”

“That was barely a threat,” he says. “I’m just curious to know your motivation to dig up trash.”

“I’m studying—that’s my reason.”

Alastor waves the knife as he talks. “Are there no other dead bodies for you to prey on?” he says. “Don’t hospitals have an area specifically to keep the dead?”

“Only morticians or medical students are allowed access,” you say. “I am neither.”

“Why not become one then?”

“Women as doctors are still a relatively new phenomena,” you say. “There is not a single medical school in this area that will allow me to study, nor are there any that won’t bring me into debt.” Your blood boils and it replaces your thumping heart. It still beats in your chest, but it’s not because of fear. “I needed to find a way to learn, to study, and textbooks could only describe it in words. I want to see for myself.”

Alastor plays with the tip of the knife. “Sounds like a classic case of lusting for knowledge.”

“If lust is to be my sin,” you start and a wonky smile appears on your face, “pride would be yours. A classic case of judge, jury and executioner.”

“I do not need to explain myself to you.”

“Well, you are holding the larger knife,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “Anything more you’d like to know?”

Alastor hums at you. “How did you figure it out?”

“A little bit of a suggestion?” you say, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. “You should buy suspicious items at different times and places. Your turn—How did you know I was here?”

“A little bit of a suggestion?” he echoes laughing like he’s told the funniest joke. “You shouldn’t have told me where you lived so easily. I thought I would have to hang around your clinic for a few days before I got your address.”

“I made sure to be careful.”

“You weren’t in the slightest,” he tells you. “Even an animal is harder to track. It was quite a surprise to see you heading in this direction.”

“Wait . . . ,” you say slowly. “Hang around the clinic? You . . . you were stalking me?”

“I wouldn’t say stalking,” he says, putting his arms up. “And if we’re pointing fingers, you would have had to follow me around for a few days to learn where I buried my trash.”

Your eyes drift to his bag, and then to his knife. Realization hits you like a cruel bus. You face heat. “You!”

“Me?”

“You lied to me!” you say, venom lacing your words as you puff. “You had no business in the area, nor did you randomly spot me! You followed to kill me, didn't you?”

Alastor smiles at you.

“Oh my God!” you scream at him, throwing your arms into the air. You point at him, glaring “You’re still going to kill me?”

“I can’t exactly let you leave, my dear,” he says, rolling his eyes. “What did you think?”

You stare down at him from your nose. “Don’t be so brainless,” you spit, crossing your arms. “If you would use this thing on your head called a, ‘brain’, and use it to think, you would be able to deduce that you’re currently not in cuffs.”

Alastor glares back at you, tightening his grip on the knife. You don’t give a single flying fuck.

“Since you are adamant on not using your brain, I shall do so for you,” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. “If I wanted to rat you out to the coppers, wouldn’t I have done so already? Hmmmm?”

“Don’t speak to me as if I am a child.”

“I wouldn’t have to, if you aren’t thinking like one,” you say. “Why would I tattle on someone for giving me what I want.”

Alastor gives you a dry smile. “So much sarcasm to the person who does so.”

You cross your arms and lean against the tree. “I suppose I should be thanking you.”

”Will you?”

“No,” you say. “I don’t thank liars.”

You smile to yourself when Alastor rolls his eyes and furrows his brow. That strained smile of his is an extra bonus.

“If you’re going to kill me, be quick with it,” you say. “I’d like to die with my dignity as a lady.”

“How curious,” he says. “You’re not going to try and run? Fight me off in some clever way? Those are always the best kinds of hunts.”

You roll your eyes, making a point to show him that you are doing so. “That would be a waste of our time, wouldn’t it? And I think you’ll forgive me if I am not exactly keen on giving my murderer the satisfaction of experiencing ‘the best kinds of hunt’.”

Alastor laughs, breathy and light this time. He tosses the knife into the trees and puts his arms up as if surrendering. “It seems you have made me change my mind,” he says. “Not many are able to do so—especially not when I’ve settled on a hunt.”

“What an honor then,” you say, smiling dryly.

“Indeed, it is.” He takes a step forward, and when you don’t run, he walks to you and brushes stray dirt off your shoulders.

“Why change your mind?”

He smiles, inching closer to you. That is for me to know,” he says. “But, what I will say is I know potential when I see it.”

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“Someone, please, kill me again!” Angel Dust massages his forehead with one arm, using the other to empty the bottle. His third arm reaches into the bar shelves for a new one. You stare at his arms and wonder just how it got to be so long. “You’ve got to be shiting me right now. That’s your example? That’s your final answer?”

You pick at the wooden table, suddenly finding it hard to meet his eyes “Yes . . . ?”

Angel Dust chugs his bottle at your answer.

Mimzy avoids direct eye contact, choosing to study her empty glass.

Even Sir Pentious keeps his gaze locked to the floor. You bite on your cheek, letting out a soft huff.

If they didn’t want to know, they should not have asked.

“Out of all the misery he’s caused and will be causing,” Angel Dust says, “you think that Freaky ly’in to you about his reason for walking you home was the best possible example.”

“Yes?”

Angel Dust takes a deep breath. “Let’s be clear, okay? I’ll rephrase what I said, so listen closely,” he says. “Alastor lied about – and let me get this right—he lied to you about why he was in the area, and that’s why – hold on, bear with me – and that is why you were angry.”

You cross your arms, huffing a bit. “You make it sound stupid.”

Mimzy sighs, shaking her head with amusement. “That’s because it is, darling.”

“It is not!” you say, pouting. “It’s a very valid reason to be cross.”

Angel Dust takes another swig of his bottle. “It’s the fact that you weren’t angry that he was going to murder you in cold blood for me.”

You throw your arms into the air. “Okay, so it might not have been the best example,” you say, tapping your legs. “But that isn’t exactly my fault. Alastor is strangely honest.”

Angel Dust gapes at you. “No, he is not!”

“I don’t know, hun,” Mimzy says, leaning against the bar table. “Alastor kina is.”

“You won’t get the truth if you don’t ask,” you say, nodding your head. “And when you do ask, Alastor will either say the full horrifying truth, say it in a way that’s vague but still considered to be true, or dodge and not answer your question.”

Sir Pentious tilts his head, and he keeps a hand on his hat to keep it from falling. “And that is why we should not trust him?”

“There is no we , my dear,” you say. “That’s why you shouldn’t trust him.”

The hotel trembles.

You startle in your seat, gripping the table for stability. Mimzy clutches your arm, and you grab hers. It’s a small reassuring gesture that would make you smile at any other moment.

Someone pounds on the door.

You snap your head towards the entrance, nearly giving yourself whiplash. The hinges creak with every bang, and you watch with horror as the wooden frame begins to crack. Whatever wants to go in is determined to do so.

“ MIMZY! We know you’re in there, you lousy bitch!”

You lock eyes with Mimzy, glaring at her with bristled feathers. “Really?”

“Whooops . . . ?” she says with the most innocent smile. You grab your glass and throw it at her head. Mimzy snarls at you, searching for a stray bottle. She never finds it.

Glass rains down to the floor. Dust fills the space, and you cough when it irritates your throat. The whole hotel is in disarray. With a yelp, you jump away from the bar when one of the bone heads detaches and crushes your seat.

Mimzy scurries behind the bar.

A portal rips open in the middle of the room . . . Huh , that’s pretty cool. Vaggie steps out, Lucifer and Charlie behind her. “What is going on?”

Mimzy explains what she did. You roll your eyes when she does.

Fireballs shoot out the broken windows.

Motherfucker! You are going to kill Mimzy. You press against the wall to avoid Sir Pentious’ long tail from smacking into you as he slithers about. Angel Dust scurried away at the first sign of trouble. Of-fucking-course this happens today. Niffty scurries about, cleaning every debris in sight, You grab her by the collar, pulling her away from a stray fire. Niffty squirms out of your hold, and hops away. Another fireball keeps you from pursuing her.

“We’re under siege!” Sir Pentious exclaims, slithering about. “Take cover!”

Alastor pops out of your shadow, jerking your arm to pull you away.

You flap your arms to regain your balance.

Alastor keeps a steady hand on your shoulder, his hold on you firm. His touch keeps you grounded. Your eyes flutter to where you pressed against the wall, but Alastor pokes your cheek with the tips of your fingers, nudging your face to keep your eyes on him. The hotel burns in chaos, and you dig your fingers into the fabric of his coat.

Alastor holds your gaze. He smiles at you softly, but you see the hardness in his eyes and the tension is his jaw.

You try to give him your best smile. “Much better?”

“No, not in the slightest” he says, eyes squinting into a harsh glare. Alastor doesn’t frown, but his teeth bare into a snarl. “Are you hurt?”

The hotel trembles, and more fire crashes through the windows.

You try to turn to the chaos around you, but Alastor leans to the side, blocking the surroundings with his face. “I’d like an answer.”

He smoothes the feathers on your hair, and you lean into his hold, shaking your head. “Not a single feather out of place,” you say. “Thank you, my deerest.”

The hotel trembles once more, but you keep your gaze locked into Alastor’s.

“All of you get a safe distance,” Vaggie says, spear raised.” I’ll take care of this.”

Satisfied, Alastor drops his hand from your head and turns to the door. “No, my dear. Leave it to me.” Radio static warps the air around you. His eyes morph into radio dials. “It’s time I remind everyone why I am here.” He has the smile on his face—that same smile that tell you he’s on the hunt. It makes you buzz.

Mimzy pops her head out. “Ugh, finally!” she says, rolling her eyes. “Took you long enough.”

Tendrils shoot out of Alastor’s back and it waves around the air as if owning a mind of its own. His bones break with audible cracks to adjust to his expanding size. “A reminder to all, not to mess with the radio demon!” His teeth stick out when he smiles, and the little ‘x’ on his forehead appears.

Alastor laughs and begins his kill.

You rush out when your husband crawls out the broken doors, bolting from the bar and out the entrance. You watch Alastor. He grabs a shark with the tips of his fingers and uses the others to pull him apart, slowly, painfully , with a grin.

“Mimzy . . . ” you say, slowly.

Mimzy shrinks next to you. “ . . . Yeah?”

Alastor’s nails elongate and he pierces the shark, letting his blood trail down, reveling in his screams. “I really appreciate everything you do for me.”

A leg sails across the air, it’s bone sticking out. You smile to yourself as Alastor hunts down his prey. Blood paints the flowers red when his tendrils wag like a happy tail.

You’re faintly aware of Lucifer and Charlie arguing behind you.

The show is over too soon.

Alastor shrinks, twirls his microphone and stretches.

Mimzy runs, the first to approach Alastor. You don’t hear a word they’re saying, but Mimzy jabs her fingers into his coat. She leaves with a frown and a middle finger pointed at him.

You walk closer to your husband, a smile on your face. Alastor inches to you, bending close enough for you to reach his bowtie. The fabric is smooth against your fingers as your straighten it for him. “Much better?” you ask.

“Indeed.”

“You put up quite the show,” you tell him. “You looked absolutely riveting, my deer.”

Alastor’s smile widens, and he offers his arm, guiding you back into the hotel. “Did I?”

“You always do, my love.”

And oh . . .

Another song.

Lucifer leaves, taking his singing with him.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

As quietly as possible, you grab your belongings and check that nothing is missing: wallet, flip-phone, bus card, pieces of mint, various essential items, and lastly, your umbrella. You step out of what is left of the Hazbin Hotel’s front doors and stifle a yawn. Today’s excitement has gone on for too long. It was time to go home.

Drops of acid fall from the sky, a light drizzle forming. It was a good idea to stash that umbrella in your bag.

Alastor slithers out of your shadow, and covers your heads with an umbrella. “Did you happen to forget your umbrella?”

You force a sheepish smile on your lips. “I did, actually,” you lie to him. “But a walk seems rather lovely today.”

Alastor twirls the umbrella, his smile widening. “May I join you for your walk?”

“Are you not still working?” You glance behind you, observing the hotel.

Angel Dust sweeps glass off the carpet. He steals glances from time to time, trying his hardest to avoid looking in your direction—it doesn’t try hard enough. Your eyes meet, and you brush your stray feathers from your hair. A not so subtle way of showing off your ring. You stick out your tongue.

Angel Dust laughs, shaking his head with amusement.

Alastor adjusts the umbrella, angling it to block the prying eyes from inside the hotel. He raises his eyebrows, looking at you with a questionable glance.

You offer your most innocent smile. “I think they’re going to need a new door.”

“I think it’s time I clocked out,” he says, inching the umbrella closer. “I shouldn’t have them getting too dependent on me.”

“Are those not grounds for prime picking?”

“I wouldn’t exactly be a doting husband if I left my wife to walk alone in the rain,” Alastor tells you.

“ Doting husband ?”

He nods, leaning closer to you. “Yes. Was that not your condition for our marriage?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Did I say that?”

“You did.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, humming a bit. “I do not remember saying that at all.”

“Well, it wasn’t for you to remember,” he says. “And in any case, I did not call you to the hotel to prepare for some party.”

“Then why did you call me here?”

Alastor meets your eyes and his smile widens. “Allow me to join you, and you shall find out.”

“You’ve piqued my interest, deerest,” you say. “The best walks are usually the ones that are shared. It doesn’t hurt that you have an umbrella.”

“What would you do without me?”

You roll your eyes, and take a step closer. “You always seem to remember for me.”

Alastor fiddles with the umbrella. “What did you do for several years—get pelted by acid?”

“You would know the answer to that had you been present for those years,” you say and you don’t fight the coy smile that forms on your lips.

Alastor hums in displeasure. “Well, in any case, I only have this one umbrella.”

“I guess we’ll have to share.”

“Yes, it seems we will.”

Alastor offers his arm, and you loop your own around his. He doesn’t need to take precautions to ensure your clothes stay dry nor do you have to for his own attire, not when you press closely against each other. The umbrella covers the both of you just right.

You rest your head on his arm. It’s nice. Warm. Even if it was as thick as a stick. His bones press into your cheek. Your eyes flutter into a close . . . just . . . one . . . second . . .

Your knees buckle causing you to trip.

A frim grab of your waist keeps you from the ground. Your nose crinkles when you collide with Alastor’s chest. Finding strength in your legs, you dig your foot into the ground and stand.

Alastor keeps his hold on your waist steady, and you don’t move from his hold.

“Before you say anything—you are not fine,” he says. “I don’t want to hear anything else but an agreement.”

You peel your face from his chest, meeting his eyes to give him the brightest smile you can muster. It doesn’t come out as you hope. “It seems . . . It seems it will be my turn to postpone our outing today,” you say. “The excitement of the day seems to be catching up to me.”

You fell asleep while walking,” he says. “If it was not for me, you would be on the pavement.”

“Then it is a good thing I am no longer alone.”

A single tendril emerges from his back. It wraps around the umbrella’s handle, keeping it secured over your heads.

Alastor’s hand shifts from your waist to your back. You feel his other arm snaking down your legs, trailing your skin until he reaches the back of your knees.

Alastor lifts you like a bride.

Well, you actually are a bride . . . his bride, specifically.

Alastor continues the walk, holding you in his arms. You lean into him, and he places a chin on your head. “Your pointy chin is poking me, my deerest,” you say but you don’t move to push him off. “It’s digging into my scalp.

His chest rise and fall as he laughs, and you feel every bit of it against your cheek. “I could always drop you right over this puddle.”

“That wouldn’t really be part of the doting husband image, would it?” you say chuckling into his suit.

“No, I guess it would not.”

Smiling to yourself, you nuzzle deeper into the crook of his neck. “Hey, Al,” you mumble softly, “tell me a story.”

At the corner of your eyes, you see Alastor glance at you. His gaze lasts a second before he turns back ahead. “It was 1929,” he says. “The beginning of the glorious Great Depression.”

You roll your eyes even if he doesn’t see it. “You are the only one I know who calls the Great Depression ‘ glorious’ . People were starving, and we almost got fired from our jobs.”

“That’s because it was a great year.”

“Because you got to see the sufferings of the masses?” You laugh softly. “That’s definitely something you would do. I can practically hear you laughing at the way they try to claw their way out of misery, only to fail spectacularly.”

“Because we got married that year,” he says. Even if you’re wearing a coat, and Alastor wears his gloves. Even with layers of cloth between your skin, you still feel the way Alastor caress your with his thumb. “Can I continue my story now or would you like to bicker about your failing memory?”

“Continue.”

“So, the start of the glorious Great Depression,” he says. “That day, I saw an ad for the local zoo. I wasn’t doing anything important, so I decided to support my local animals.”

“How kind of you,” you say, stifling a yawn.

“Indeed it was,” he says. “I stalk through the animals. Looking at every malnourished species they kept locked up—”

“You get to the alligator enclosure and to this day, swear that you saw it do a backflip,” you mumble softly, eyes dropping. “That’s pretty good for someone you claim to possess failing memories.”

“Alright then. I shall find another.” Alastor hums as he thinks, and his chest vibrates as he does. “Summer of 1916–long before I met you.”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” you say, huffing. “I’m well aware of the year we met, my deer. So, Summer of 1916?”

“It was a dark and stormy night. Weird for the summer seasons. Usually, the house becomes a furnace, but it was terribly cold,” Alastor tells you. “During that second night of the hurricane, a knock sounds from the door.”

“Oh . . . I’ve heard this as well.” You pick on the lapels of Alastor’s coat, tracing the white lines.

“You have?” Alastor raises his eyebrows

“Yes, it was your neighbor. His tree fell into the window and you and your mother ended up sheltering him for the night,” you say. “Then, you’ll tell me that he gifted you three pounts of cheese the next week.”

“I guess there’s nothing left to tell.”

You lean back to meet his eyes. They’re no longer brown. Once, a long time ago, you thought it was your favorite color. Now, you don’t think you’ve ever had a favorite color. You just liked his color. “Nonsense,” you says. “We are definitely not that old. I’m sure there should be be at least a few.”

“Alright, this one began fifteen years ago,” he says, tightening his grip on you. “I was waiting outside St. An’s, and a Sinner came out. It was my first time seeing a cow. It was quite a conundrum because — Oh, I think you’ve heard this already. Have you?”

Your eyelids are heavy. “I have.”

“And you choose not to inform me?”

“Can you tell it to me again?” You sink deeper into his hold.

“Of course, my love.”

Alastor’s steps lag until he comes to a full stop. He holds you in his gaze as the acid rain splatters grow stronger. It’s just you and him in this tiny bubble of an umbrella.

His eyes flicker, touching every inch of this scene. You do not know what he is thinking.

“Are you alright, my love?” you find yourself asking.

“Yes,” he says. “I’m just . . . trying not to waste, that’s all.”

“Come on,” you say in a voice that is oh so soft.

Alastor continues his story. You don’t hear the end of it.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Next Part: | Part 4: The Radio Stars' Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes| I am excited to know what you guys think about this chapter. My replies and inbox are always open for any questions. I always get so happy to see my notifications. It's a bit addicting actually. Thank you to everyone who has interacted with this story. Every like, reblog, and reply means so much to me. Part 4 will be poasted as soon as possible

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