#makes me wonder what he did and how he felt

[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Chapter 4

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?), Chronic Injury/Pain/Illness, Minor Character Death (It's probably nobody you love), Magical Work Accidents, Explosions, Injuries

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

"You want to tell me what exactly you apologised for?" Cassian demanded as they left Azriel's bedroom. 

Azriel was curled around his mate like a tortoise shell and Cassian was quite sure that Azriel was going to slaughter everybody that would even try to get close to Irena.

Without even a second of hesitation. 

He had never seen Azriel so protective before, had never seen him so...possessive. It was almost scary how strongly his brother was reacting to almost losing his mate, how tightly he was curling himself around her like a shield. Cassian knew that mating bonds were intense, that they could drive instincts wild…Fuck, he had felt that all compassing need to pretect and claim himself…but…

But Azriel…he was radiating raw fear and intensity. 

Rhys grimaced. "I fucked up," he said frankly.

"Yeah, I agree, given that our brother preferred to keep his mate a secret for 2 years than to actually talk to us.” Cassian let out a low sigh, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair. "What exactly did you do that made him keep this from us?" he asked sharply, his voice tinged with frustration.

He didn't want to judge his brother, didn't want to assume that Rhys was the reason for Azriel's secrecy. But he couldn't help but wonder what had caused Azriel to keep something so important from them. And he couldn't help but feel a little hurt that he had been left out of something so significant in his brother's life.

It was frustrating and confusing, and it left Cassian feeling like there was a gulf between him and his brother that he didn't know how to bridge. He just wanted to understand, wanted to make sure that he hadn't done anything to make Azriel feel like he couldn't trust Cassian…

He knew that Azriel was a private person, that he valued his solitude and his privacy. But he had never expected him to keep his mating bond a secret for so long. 

It stung a little, that Azriel had been able to hide something so significant for so long without any of them suspecting a thing.

"Around two years ago...I warned Azriel off Elain," Rhys admitted with a grimace. "I was not...particularly...appropriate with my word choices."

Azriel and Elain?! Cassian's eyes widened at the admission, his jaw dropping open in shock. "Elain?! You warned Azriel off Elain?" he asked incrediously. "I didn't even know that there was..."

"There wasn't. Not after...They...they nearly kissed during Solstice once, even with Lucien in the house and it was...I stopped them." Rhys admitted. "It was a political clusterfuck."

Cassian felt another rush of disbelief and anger wash over him at that. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, couldn't believe that Rhys had interfered in Azriel's personal life like that. "You had no right," he growled, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "You had no right to get involved in his love life like that, Rhys."

"I had every right," Rhys snapped. "Elain has a mate and so has Azriel, as we just found out."

"He didn't know that then," Cassian disagreed. "Elain and Azriel clearly had...something between them and yet you interfered. What exactly did you say to him?"

"I ordered him not to pursue her," Rhys admitted. "I told him to leave her alone. That if he needed to fuck somebody, he should go to a pleasure hall and pay for it."Cassian's eyes widened at the admission, his jaw clenching tight as he struggled to keep his temper in check. 

"You...you ordered him?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "You actually ordered him to stay away from a girl he clearly had feelings for? And then you...you told him to..." He trailed off, unable to even finish the sentence. He couldn't believe that Rhys had done something so callous and outright cruel to their brother. It was one thing to warn Azriel off of pursuing a girl who already had a mate. But to order him around like some kind of puppet and then insult him like that...it was beyond terrible. "Yeah. No fucking wonder, he didn't say a single word about Irena," Cassian growled under her breath. "You can probably consider yourself lucky that he didn't snap your neck for that, Rhys!"

Rhys winced at the words, his expression turning apologetic. "I know," he said quietly. "I'm...I don't really have an excuse. I was just...I thought I was doing what was best for him, for our Court. I didn't mean to..."

He trailed off, his voice shaking with emotion. Cassian could see how much his brother was struggling with this, how much the knowledge of what he had done was eating away at him. And he couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Rhys, even as he was still seething with anger towards him.

He knew that Rhys had always tried to do what he thought was right, that he had always tried to protect their Court and their family. But sometimes...sometimes he made mistakes. And those mistakes had consequences, consequences that were often painful and devastating.

"I did apologise," Rhys said weakly.

"Oh, did you?" Cassian said with a snort. Rhys's apology did little to improve Cassian's temper, his anger still simmering just beneath the surface. "And that makes it all better then?" he demanded, his voice tinged with bitterness. "A simple apology fixes everything? Clearly it doesn't! Otherwise we would have known! Azriel would have told us that he met his mate!"

"What apology?" A voice behind them demanded, and Cassian should probably not be surprised to not only find his own mate there, but also Mor and his High Lady.

"Feyre Darling...Where is Nyx?" Rhys asked

"With Cerridwen. Don't change the topic," Feyre demanded. "What in the cauldron even happened?!"

Cassian let out a low sigh, shaking his head at the interruption. He couldn't help but feel a little grateful for the distraction, though. "Rhys told Azriel not to pursue Elain romantically three years ago.," he explained, his voice tight. "Ordered him to stay away, even. Azriel's been keeping his mate a secret from us for two years now."

He could see the shock and confusion on Feyre's face as he spoke, the disbelief that her mate could have done something so thoughtless and hurtful. He couldn't blame her, really. He was still struggling to wrap his head around it himself.

It didn't make any sense to him, how Rhys could have done something like that without realizing how much it would hurt their brother. How could someone who was supposed to be a High Lord, supposed to be their leader, be so blind to the pain of those he was supposed to protect? It was baffling and frustrating and it made Cassian's blood boil.

But he didn't have time to dwell on it, not right now. Not when they had bigger problems to worry about...like the fact that Azriel had a mate, a mate he had been hiding for two whole years. He knew what a mating bond felt like, knew how all-consuming and intense it could be.

The last thing he had expected was for Mor to start laughing."What?" Cassian snapped, his temper flaring up again. "What's so funny?"

Mor’s laughter continued, her body trembling as she struggled to catch her breath. "I'm sorry," she gasped, her voice choked with mirth as she grinned at him. "It's just...it's just so Azriel. Of course, he would keep his mate a secret for two whole years.”

Cassian stared at her in disbelief, his anger giving way to confusion. "That's what you find funny?" he asked incredulously. "That our brother kept his mate hidden for two bloody years?"

He couldn't understand why Mor would find that amusing, why she was laughing at something that was supposed to be a serious and painful secret. Didn't she know how much it must have hurt Azriel to keep his mate hidden for so long, to keep his feelings for her bottled up inside? Didn't she know how hard it must have been for him to keep up the facade of being fine, of being single and alone?

He couldn't wrap his head around it, couldn't make sense of Mor's humour in the situation. All he could feel was confusion and frustration, and a deep sadness for his brother who had to keep his mating bond a secret for so long.

He had always known that Azriel was a private person, that he didn't like to share his personal life with others. But he had never known that he could keep something like this a secret for so long. It was...it was almost scary, how good Azriel was at hiding his feelings and emotions.

“You find it funny, that Azriel didn’t trust any of us with her?” Nesta asked flatly.

Mor's laughter died down at Nesta's words, her expression turning somber. "No, of course not," she said quietly. "It's just...it's just typical Azriel. He's always been so careful about guarding his emotions, about keeping his love life hidden. I never would have guessed that he had a mate, let alone for two whole years."

“I am not surprised that he didn’t tell you,” Nesta bit out. “Not as you spend 500 years using his own feelings against him.

Mor flinched at Nesta's words, her expression turning pained. "Nesta, that's...that's not fair," she protested. "I never meant to hurt him. I never wanted to."

But Nesta wasn't finished, her eyes blazing with anger as she took a step towards Mor. "You spent five centuries playing with his heart, using him like some kind of toy. And now you're surprised that he didn't tell you about his mate? After everything you've put him through?"

Mor looked down, avoiding Nesta's gaze. "I...I know that I made mistakes," she said quietly. "But I never meant to hurt him."

Nesta scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Oh, please," she sneered. "You knew exactly what you were doing. You knew exactly how Azriel felt about you, and you used it to your advantage. You used him. And after the mating bond between you and Emerie snapped, you never tried to actually talk to him!“

Cassian nearly missed Rhys wincing. Nearly.

“You have anything to do with that too?” He asked darkly.

Rhys flinched at the accusation, his expression turning guilty. "I...I may have had something to do with it," he admitted quietly. "But I was just trying to help. I didn't mean..."

Cassian stared at his brother in disbelief, his anger rising up in him like a tidal wave. "You...you interfered? Again?" he hissed. “What did you tell Azriel?” He demanded.

Rhys sighed, picking a piece of invisible lint of his jacket. "I told him not to ruin this for Mor. That she went through enough.”

Cassian felt a wave of frustration wash over him at Rhys's words. "And you didn't think that maybe Azriel had enough as well?" he asked, his voice barely more than a growl.

He couldn't believe that Rhys had tried to interfere in Azriel's life again, that he had caused even more pain for their brother. And all for the sake of Mor, someone who had rejected Azriel time and time again. It was ridiculous and infuriating. 

But the more he heard…the more he understood why Azriel had kept Irena a secret. 

He had met his mate and had protected her fiercely, cossetted her away from any of them who could hurt them…had kept her to himself, so Rhys couldn’t say any other idiotic and harebrained thing…Had kept his mate to himself, because he adored her and hadn’t wanted to share. Which quite frankly, Cassian could absoltuely understand now. 

And still… Cassian knew what a mating bond could do to someone, how intense and consuming it could be. And the thought that Azriel, their quiet and reserved brother, had had to keep that kind of intensity hidden for so long...it was almost too much for Cassian to fathom.

He didn't know how Azriel had managed it, how he had kept his mating bond a secret for so long without anyone else noticing. It must have been a monumental effort, a constant struggle to keep his emotions and instincts in check.

And the fact that he had done all of that alone, without any support or understanding from the rest of them...it broke Cassian's heart. 

And Cassian himself had not made it better. How often had he teased his brother about his love life. Even, and maybe especially,  when Azriel had told him to fuck off?

Too often, Cassian realized with a pang of guilt. He had never thought about how his teasing might have hurt Azriel, how it might have added to the burden of keeping his mating bond a secret.

He had always just assumed that they were all teasing each other in good fun, that it was harmless banter between siblings. But now...now he realized that maybe it hadn't been so harmless after all. Maybe it had been something much more cruel and damaging than he had ever intended.

He wished that he could take back every comment he had ever made about Azriel's love life, every joke he had ever made about his solitude. But he knew that he couldn't, that the damage had already been done.

Cassian could just hope that he could find a way to repair things with Azriel, to make amends for all of the hurt and pain that he had unintentionally caused. He just hoped that his brother would be able to forgive him, that they could move past this and build a stronger, more understanding relationship

But deep down, a nagging voice in the back of his mind told him that it might not be so easy. That the wounds inflicted by his words might run too deep to ever be fully healed.

And that thought scared him more than he cared to admit. It scared him to think that he might have forever damaged his relationship with his brother, that his careless words might have destroyed something that he had always taken for granted.

“I don’t even have the words right now,” Feyre said with a sigh.

Cassian glanced in her direction, seeing the pain and frustration written all over her face. He knew exactly what she meant. There were no words for this situation, for the hurt and confusion and betrayal that they were all feeling.

He could only imagine what Azriel must be going through right now, how much he must be struggling with his emotions and thoughts. And he had no idea how they were supposed to help him, how they could make things right again.

“I have no clue how we are supposed to fix this either,” Feyre continued.

Cassian nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of helplessness wash over him. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Me neither."

“Leave him be,” Nesta said tightly. “He nearly lost his mate today.”

Cassian shot Nesta a sharp look, surprised by her words. "Leave him be?" he repeated. "You want to just leave him alone, after all of this?"

"He almost lost his mate today, Cassian," Nesta repeated, her voice tight with emotion. "Let him rest. Let him have some time, space. Let him have that without us bombarding him with questions and apologies."

Cassian considered her words for a moment, feeling a pang of guilt at the thought of bombarding his brother with more questions right now. He already had, hadn’t he?  He knew that Nesta was right, that Azriel needed space and time to process everything that had happened. And he knew that they had already done enough damage as it was.

So he nodded, reluctantly agreeing with her suggestion. "Alright," he said quietly. "We'll give him space. For now."

He could only hope that it would be enough, that it would give Azriel the time and space he needed to heal and process everything that had happened. And he hoped, more than anything, that it would be enough for them to repair the damage that they had done to their brother's heart.

But until then, all he could do was wait. Wait and hope that someday, somehow, they could make things right again.

And in the meantime, he would try his best to be there for Azriel, to offer him support and understanding without pushing too hard. Because that was all he could do right now.

That, and wait for a chance to finally make amends for the mistakes he had made.

Because he knew that he had a lot to make up for, and he was determined to do whatever it took to earn Azriel's forgiveness. And to be a better brother from this point forward.

***

She was warm. She was safe. Azriel was holding her...and still...in the moment she first opened her eyes, all she could remember where these last few moments before.

Irena's heart raced as the memories flooded back, of Merrill's office...of how her fellow Priestess, her friend had been sniping at her the moment she entered her office.

"We need to talk, Merrill," Irena had said.

"If Meera complained, it's her own fault," Merrill had seethed. "I don't need her help anyway, I am quicker and better on my own."

And only then Irena had realised that Merrill had already been casting that spell.

"Merrill! Stop!" she had snapped. "You can't do that! It's too..." dangerous. Dangerous was what she had wanted to say. But the word stuck in her throat as Merrill chanted that spell and then...then hell broke loose.

Then the only thing she remembered was quite a lot of pain."

There was no pain now.

There was only Azriel. Only safety and warmth and the smell of cedars...she blinked open her eyes tiredly.

"Azriel," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her eyelids felt heavy, her body weak and boneless. But still, she felt a sense of relief wash over her as she saw him there, his arms strong and comforting around her.

She wanted to say more, to ask him if he was alright, to apologize for putting him through all of this. But she couldn't find the strength to speak, the words getting stuck in her throat. All she could do was cling to him, grateful for his presence and warmth.

He pressed a kiss against her forehead, clinging to her...and only a moment later she could feel his body shudder against her own. Shudder and the salty smell of tears

Irena's eyes widened in surprise as she realized that he was crying. She had never seen Azriel cry before, not once in all the time they had spent together. But now, he was crying, a quiet sob escaping him as he buried his face in her hair.

Her heart broke at the sound, at the vulnerability he was showing her. She raised a trembling hand to stroke his hair, her fingers tangling in the silky locks. "Azriel," she whispered softly, her voice barely audible. "It's alright. I'm here. I'm here."

She wanted to tell him that she was sorry, that she never meant to hurt him like this. But the words just wouldn't come, her mouth dry and her head still spinning. All she could do was hold him, trying to provide him with the only comfort she had the strength to give.

She didn't know how long they stayed like that, clinging to each other in silence. But eventually, Azriel's tears seemed to dry up, his sobs turning into sniffles and then to deep, shaky breaths.

She felt him press another soft kiss against her forehead, his lips warm and gentle against her skin. "I thought I lost you," he whispered, his voice barely more than a broken murmur. "I thought..."

She could hear the pain and fear in his voice, and it broke her heart even more. "Shhh," she said, still stroking his hair gently. "I'm here now. I'm alright."

She could feel him nod against her, his body slowly relaxing as he held her close. "I was so scared," he whispered. "I was so scared."

She tightened her grip around him, trying to reassure him with her presence. "I know," she said softly. "But I'm here, alright? I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."

Never. Not when she had a single choice in that matter. 

She felt him nod again, his body finally relaxing completely against hers. 

But for now, this was enough. Just being able to hold him, to feel him pressed against her, was enough. And she hoped, with all her heart, that it was enough for him too.

“How are you feeling? Are you in pain?” he asked her, his voice hoarse. “Are you…”

She looked up at Azriel, seeing the concern etched onto his features. "My abdomen hurts a little…so does my bad leg" she admitted. "But other than that, I feel fine. A little weak, but fine."

Azriel nodded, his expression still tight with worry. "Madja said that it might take a few days for you to fully recover," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But she was confident that you'll be okay."

Irena nodded, trying to smile reassuringly at him. "I'll be fine, Azriel," she said softly. "I just need some rest and I'll be good as new."

And time. Time to wrap her mind around the fact that her friend had died.

“She didn’t deserve that,” she whispered. Azriel knew what she was talking about.

“She didn’t,” he agreed softly.

“Was anybody else hurt?” Irena whispered, already hating to even contemplate it..

“Just you.”

She closed her eyes, feeling a wave of guilt wash over her. "It's all my fault," she murmured. "If I hadn't confronted her, if I hadn't..." She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. She could still remember the look on Merrill's face, the anger and hatred in her eyes. And she knew, deep down, that she had caused it. 

Azriel's grip on her hand tightened, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on her skin. "It wasn't your fault, Irena," he said firmly. "You didn't make her do what she did. You couldn't have known that she would lash out like that."

She wanted to believe him, to let herself off the hook. But the guilt was too heavy, too all-consuming. "I should have known," she whispered, her voice choked up with emotion. "I should have been more aware, more careful."

Azriel's expression softened, his eyes full of understanding. "You can't blame yourself for this, love," he said gently. "You can't control other people's actions, no matter how much you might want to."

She knew he was right, that she couldn't keep blaming herself for what had happened. But it was hard, so hard, to let go of that guilt. "I just...I never meant for any of this to happen," she said, tears filling her eyes.

Merrill had been brilliant. And yes, she had been snappy and cruel but she had also been funny and bright and…She hadn’t been horrible. Misunderstood maybe, not very nice sometimes but she wasn’t…she hadn’t deserved to die. 

Azriel reached out, wiping away her tears with his thumb. "I know," he whispered, his voice full of tenderness. "I know you didn't."

She looked up at him, searching his face for any hint of blame or anger. But all she saw was kindness and understanding, and it almost broke her heart. "How can you be so good to me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "After everything..."

He cupped her face gently, his touch sending shivers down her spine. "Because I love you," he said simply, his eyes never leaving hers. "And nothing you can ever do will ever change that. This wasn’t your fault."

She felt a lump form in her throat at his words, her heart swelling with emotion. No one had ever loved her like this before, no one had ever made her feel so safe and cherished. 

She leaned into his touch, her eyes closing as she felt him press a soft kiss against her forehead. "I love you, too," she whispered, her voice shaky with emotion. "More than anything."

Laying in his arms, was the most peace she had ever known. 

“They know…about us,” Azriel said, exhaling softly. “I am sorry. I couldn’t…I couldn’t let them take you back to your room.”

Irena looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. "They know?" she repeated. "They know about us...together?"

He didn’t need to tell her who they was. They was everybody. 

Azriel nodded, his expression serious. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I knew you didn't want anyone to know yet, but I couldn't risk them sending you back alone. You were barely conscious and..." He trailed off, his voice tight with emotion.

Irena reached out, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it tightly. "It's okay," she said softly. "I understand." And she did understand. She knew that he had only been trying to protect her, to keep her safe. And she loved him even more for it. And she had wanted to be with him. She had wanted to be held by him. It was worth it. The simple comfort of his presence was worth all the other bullshit they would need to deal with. 

Irena smiled up at him, trying to reassure him with her expression. "It doesn't matter if they know," she said. "As long as I have you, nothing else matters."

“It’s gonna be…difficult,” Azriel warned her with a grimace.

“I can deal with your brothers,” she promised him simply. She could. She did deal with them. Well, at least with the High Lord on a monthly basis. She could handle him. 

Azriel let out a laugh, shaking his head. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into," he warned her, but there was a slight smile playing on his lips.

She just smiled at him, leaning up to press a soft kiss against his lips. 

She would deal with whatever she needed. Because Azriel was worth it. 

“Madja should be back soon…do you want a bath?” He asked her softly, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. “I can ask Gwyn or Roslin to come help you.“

Irena smiled gratefully. "Yes, a bath would be lovely," she said, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over her. "But just a quick one."

Azriel nodded, his expression tender as he looked down at her. "I'll go get Gwyn," he said, brushing her hair away from her face. "You just rest for a moment."

“No,” Irena said softly. “You can help me.”

Azriel's expression softened at her words, his eyes filled with warmth. "Of course," he said gently. "Anything you need." He bent down, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her towards the bathroom. His touch was careful, his steps slow and steady, as if he was afraid of hurting her.

The shadows fluttered around, filling the bathtub, pouring something or other in there until it smelled amazing.

Irena breathed in deeply, feeling the tension in her body slowly begin to ease away. The warm, lavender-scented steam filled her nose, soothing her frayed nerves and calming her racing heart. "That smells amazing," she sighed, leaning against Azriel's chest. "What is it?"

“I have no clue,” he said drily. “I don’t get bubble baths,” he said with a pointed look at the shadows. 

He put her down to sit on the edge of the enormous Bath Tub and then very carefully unwrapped the wrappings around her wounds, and her leg. The wounds were closed now, the upper layer knitted back together, but she could still feel them. 

“Can you get out of the nightgown on your own?” Azriel asked her, hesitantly. 

“Should be fine,” Irena promised. 

She watched as he turned around, giving her some privacy. She was grateful for his consideration, but at the same time, she couldn't help feeling a little sad that he wasn't even going to sneak a peek. She shook the thought away, reaching out to tug off the nightgown and carefully lower herself into the tub.

The water was warm and soothing, and she let out a soft sigh as her body sank into it. Irena closed her eyes, feeling the tension slowly drain from her muscles. "This feels amazing," she murmured, leaning back against the edge of the tub. “You can come here,“ she said with some amusement, as he still stood at the doorway, presenting his back to her. His wings were flared as wide as they could get in the bathroom, rippling as muscles seemingly twitched beneath them. 

Azriel turned back around, his expression a mix of amusement and relief. He stepped closer to the tub, kneeling down beside it. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice gentle. "I don't want to accidentally see something you don't want me to."

Irena laughed softly, reaching out to take his hand in hers. "You're too chivalrous for your own good," she teased. "But I appreciate the thought. And yes, I'm sure. Come here."

Azriel nodded, his expression softening as he moved closer to her. He gently ran his fingers through her wet hair, brushing it away from her face. The touch was tender, almost reverent, and Irena leaned into it with a contented sigh. "That feels good," she murmured, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Want me to wash your hair?” he offered her, his voice hesitant. 

Like she was ever going to turn down that offer.  Irena opened her eyes, looking up at him with a smile. "Yes, please," she said, leaning back further into the water. "I don't think I have the energy to lift my arms right now."

Azriel chuckled softly, reaching for a bottle of shampoo. He squirted a small amount into his palm before carefully working it into her hair, his fingers massaging her scalp in slow, soothing circles. The sensation was heavenly, and Irena closed her eyes again, simply enjoying the moment.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, Azriel gently working the shampoo into her hair while Irena let herself relax completely. The warm water, the fragrant steam, and Azriel's gentle touch were all working together to ease away her aches and pains.

After a few more minutes, Azriel carefully rinsed her hair, his fingers tenderly brushing away any lingering soap suds. "All done," he said softly, his hands still buried in her hair. "Feeling better?"

She nodded, opening her eyes again and giving him a smile. "Much better," she said, feeling relaxed and drowsy. "Thank you."

Azriel returned the smile, his gaze full of affection. "You're very welcome, love" he said, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Let's get you out of here and back into bed before you fall asleep in the tub."

Irena laughed softly, nodding in agreement. "That's probably a good idea," she admitted. "I don't think falling asleep in the tub would do my injuries any favours."

He insisted on keeping his eyes closed again, but between him and the shadows, they had her dry and dressed in a nightgown quickly enough.

Azriel scooped her up again as soon as she was dressed, cradling her against his chest as he carried her back to the bed. He settled her gently onto the mattress, tucking the blankets around her before sitting down beside her.

“You know…next time…you should let me return the favour,” she said softly.

Azriel raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You want to wash my hair, huh?" he asked, his tone teasing. "Careful, I might take you up on that offer."

“You could join me in the tub,” she said softly, biting her lip.

Azriel's eyes darkened at her suggestion, his gaze intense as he looked down at her. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "I’ll have…some…bodily reaction to that,” he pointed out.

Her cheeks flushed but she kept a hold of his hand.

Irena swallowed, feeling a flutter of both nerves and excitement in her belly. But she didn't back down. "I'm sure," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want...I want to be close to you. Like that." She could see his hesitation and the faintest hint of doubt in his eyes.

But she knew that hesitation had nothing to do with lack of desire. It was simply that he was worried about her. Worried about hurting her, or pushing her too far. And she loved him all the more for it, but she also knew that she wanted this. Wanted him.

“Think about it. She said softly. “Maybe in a few weeeks?”

Azriel nodded, his gaze softening as he looked down at her. "In a few weeks," he agreed softly. "When you're healed." He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Let's focus on getting you better first, hmm?"

[goldfades]

I feel like we need to have a TikTok trend blurbs I just love the ones you did already.

Like when the reader and Luke is going to bed and he says “goodnight I love you and she says thank you”that one can be good

i love these sm HAHAHHAHAA

the apartment is quiet, the kind of stillness that settles over everything once the day is officially over. you’re in bed, tucked under the covers with the bedside lamp casting a warm glow across the room. luke’s in the bathroom brushing his teeth—you can hear the faint sound of the faucet running and the occasional shuffle of his feet against the tiles.

you’re scrolling through your phone, aimlessly thumbing through videos, when you hear him pad into the room. he’s shirtless, wearing the same old pair of gray sweatpants you always threaten to steal, and his hair’s still slightly damp from his shower. it’s a sight you’ve seen a hundred times, but it still makes your chest do that stupid little flip.

“you on tiktok again?” he teases, climbing into bed and nudging your shoulder with his.

“maybe,” you reply, locking your phone and setting it on the nightstand. “what’s it to you?”

he smirks, leaning back against the pillows and pulling you closer so your head rests against his chest. “just wondering what you’re plotting this time. you’ve been suspiciously quiet lately.”

you roll your eyes, poking his side until he squirms. “not everything’s a scheme, hughes.”

“uh-huh,” he says, voice laced with skepticism but too sleepy to argue further. instead, he wraps an arm around you, his palm warm against your shoulder.

there’s a long stretch of silence, the kind that’s comfortable and familiar. his breathing starts to even out, his hand absently tracing patterns on your arm, and you think he’s on the brink of sleep when he speaks up. your phone is already recording, showing half of your face and the curls behind you.

“goodnight,” he murmurs softly, voice low and drowsy. “i love you.”

you pause for just a second—just enough to be noticeable—before answering in the most nonchalant tone you can muster:

“thank you.”

the room goes still.

his hand stops moving, and you feel his chest rise as he takes a slow, deliberate breath.

“...what?” he asks, his voice sharper now, tinged with confusion.

you shift slightly, pretending to adjust the blankets. “i said thank you.”

he pulls back, just enough to tilt his head and look down at you. “that’s not what you’re supposed to say.”

you blink up at him, feigning innocence. “what do you mean? it’s polite to say thank you when someone says something nice.”

his brows furrow, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head. “but—but that’s not how this works,” he argues, his tone half exasperated, half bewildered. “i say ‘i love you,’ and you’re supposed to say it back!”

“huh,” you say, tapping your chin like you’re deep in thought. “weird. i don’t think that’s a rule.”

“it is a rule,” he insists, sitting up now, the sleepiness completely gone from his face. “it’s literally, like, the rule.”

you bite back a grin, watching as he spirals into full-on disbelief. “are you saying you don’t love me?” he asks, his voice cracking slightly at the end.

“no, i didn’t say that,” you reply, stretching the words out.

“then why didn’t you say it back?!”

you shrug, trying to keep a straight face. “felt like switching things up.”

“switching things up?” he repeats, his voice going higher, and you have to physically turn your head to avoid laughing in his face.

“yeah, keeps the relationship interesting,” you explain, patting his hand like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“oh, my god,” he groans, flopping back against the pillows dramatically. “you’re actually evil. you’re trying to kill me. this is emotional warfare.”

you finally let out the laugh you’ve been holding in, and he turns his head to glare at you, though the corners of his mouth twitch like he’s fighting a smile.

“i hate you,” he mutters, but there’s no real bite to it.

you lean over, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “love you too, babe.”

he groans again, but this time he pulls you back into his arms, his chin resting on the top of your head. “you’re lucky you’re cute,” he mumbles.

you grin, snuggling closer. “thanks, love you too.”

“stop saying thank you!”

[bunnys-kisses]

⋆⋅☆max v. with a trans masc partner☆⋅⋆

max verstappen knew what he liked. while he usually put the front as a heterosexual man, he had always been a little more fluid about his sexuality outside of the limelight. he had kissed many men in his life as with women, even those who were neither men nor women. kissing was fun, sex was fun. and he wasn't going to limit himself to one set of tools to get the job down. a cock down the throat could be as delightful as sinking into a sweet pussy.

so it was more of a surprise for you to receive max's advances than it was for him to give them.

you remembered when you grandmother told you that she was concerned about you transitioning because you may "never find love" and you told her that it didn't matter. cars were your love, you didn't need a person to fill that gap. so when you met the three time world champion as the new mechanic for the 2024 season, you honestly didn't think too much about wooing him romantically.

but, max was wooed by you. especially when he saw that your lockscreen of your phone was a picture of your two cats, and when he brought up his cats, you just lit up. max liked that you treated him like he was a person. and you simply said, "mate, i'm pretty certain they don't let robots drive these cars." then slapped him on the back, "but i will make you bleed red if you total my car." then flashed him a smile.

you remembered the first time max kissed you. the dutch grand prix had been a total success and within the quietness of the garage post-race with the trophy max had won near by. he took you by the waist and kissed you. he'd later admit that he wanted to do it right on the track.

"do you kiss all your mechanics like that, verstappen?"

"no, only the ones who allow me to win." you two had spent almost the entire season bitching about red bull. max wondered if or when he eventually jumped teams, if he could take you with him. as he held you in his arms. chest to chest.

you admitted close to his ear, a little insecure, "i hope you know. i've built myself... i was born a girl, but became something more. different." then tried to pull back, fearful of his response. you weren't trying to trick him, you'd rather have it on the table.

but he pulled you back in, his blue eyes on you, "you act like i don't know what transgender people are, mechanic." he said as he leaned you back a little, to get a fuller look at you, "you act like i've never been to bed with one."

"i don't want to be a one night stand." you said, your hands on the front of his polo shirt. his hat long hit the floor in the heat of the kiss. you swallowed, "i won't be a toy, verstappen. i have too much respect for myself."

he chuckled, "that's what i like to hear." he held you around the waist and you kissed once more. he could feel the rise in his blood pressure. while you could've easily done it in the garage, max gave you the address of where he was staying and the lie to tell security.

the mechanics team were in another hotel, but if you wore your red bull branded uniform and had your mechanic's pass then you'd get in easily. they'd never suspect that you'd be intimate with the star of the team. and you did just that. even flashing a smile at security before you headed up to the elevator. they didn't even ask questions, which made your life easier.

you found max's room and he happily brought you in. but once the door was closed behind you. his strong arms were around you. he smiled at you, happy to see you. you carefully touched his face, part of you believed this was a strange dream after too many rum and cokes. but as you felt his facial hair under your hand, this was all painfully real.

"do you want this?" he asked.

you nodded and responded with a question of your own, "do you?"

his smile grew a little more, he leaned in closer to you. you only now realized how blue his eyes were, "since the moment i saw you come to the garage. you were more impressed with the car than with me... i found it endearing." he chuckled.

you held his face with both hands and gazed at him, "yeah, because it's a piece of shit car for a champion. it's like giving the king aluminum instead of gold."

he laughed before he leaned in for a kiss. you held his face close to yourself and you felt something bloom in your gut. eventually you got your worn sneakers kicked off and the jacket of your uniform off. it left you in a white t-shirt and max started to strip as well. you eyed his form and he eyed yours.

you felt his heated gaze linger on your chest for a moment and without thinking you crossed your arms across where your top surgery scars were. it was habit at that point.

max was in just his jeans and socks. he reached for your arms. feeling your warm under his palm as he carefully moved your arms away. he wanted to admire you, all of you.

"must've felt very different after the surgery." he said as he held your wrists, his eyes gazed on the fading scars. he was in no way to judge about scarring. at least yours were for something worthwhile, to change yourself in such a fundamental way, "was it scary?"

you shook your head, "no... i wanted to do everything afterwards. my doctor basically put me on bed rest because i was trying to push myself too hard. what was a four week recovery turned in seven."

he placed his hands on your flat chest and could feel the slight raise of the scars under his palms, "you push yourself too hard."

you swallowed, feeling the heat in your cheeks, "if you want to be the best. you have to do more than your best." your gaze met his. it felt so painfully intimate. this wasn't just sex in a hotel room, this was intimacy. max wanted more than your body, he wanted to know all the nooks of your soul and what inhabited them.

he leaned in once more, "we have that in common." before he kissed you once more. his kiss was sweeter, an assurance that you and your body were nothing to be ashamed of. if anything he admired it, even though he couldn't relate to the feelings you carried. he could at least understand the guts it took to go through it.

to become more than you what was given to you. it endeared you to him as you broke the kiss and continued to get undressed. the more of your bodies exposed to one another, the hotter the room got. even with the air conditioning rattling in the room. you could feel the heat between you two.

max sighed, "i don't have condoms... i can pull out or we can do something else." he explained as he got into the bed with you. both naked. his broad hand grazed across your body.

you responded and placed his hand on your lower abdomen, right before your pussy, "hysterectomy. six months before i started. are you clean though?"

he replied, "yes. been a long time since i've been with someone anyway." he was telling the truth. since you started at the season, everything had become a blur with you and the championship being a central focus.

his pointer finger trailed across the scar for a moment before he took your face in his hands and kissed you once more. you could go on about the shape of your face, but in his hands it felt very small. you hadn't realized that max verstappen had paws instead of hands. the thought made you giggle a little into the kiss.

he pulled away and looked at you before he laid you out on your back. he asked with a small smile, "what are you laughing about?"

you looked up at him and said, "didn't realized that formula one drivers had such big hands. every seen them up close like this before." then yelped a little when max grabbed you by the hips and pushed himself up against you.

he curved his back over you and maintained eye contact, those blue eyes were swimming with lust, "well. it's good you haven't seen others this close up. i might get a little jealous."

you looked away for a moment with a stupid grin on your face, "okay, flirt. why don't we get to it before i melt into this bed." then a soft moan left your lips as he rubbed his cock up against your wet cunt.

he admired you for a moment, hoping the image of your naked body stayed with him for weeks to come. you looked masculine. he wasn't going to say "technically" it's not having sex with a man. you were a man just as much as he was if not more. you had to create your manhood and you made it to perfection.

"i want you." you said softly.

he leaned forward and kissed you gently on the lips before he eased his cock into you. he replied with an equal softness, "i want you too, mechanic." the nickname made your ears hot as he moved against you. he thrusts were gently but gained a steady momentum.

you held onto the covers under your back and let him move against you. once you got a hold of his rhythm, you were able to meet his movements as well. the kisses you two shared grew hot as max planted both hands on either side of you and moved.

you two were moving against one another, locked in a heated kiss. the bed shifted slightly under your movements. max was thankful that were was not a bed on the opposite side of the wall. and that this place had enough insulation to keep your noises muffled.

the last thing he wanted was your integrity to come into question. that you only got to where you were because of your seductive ways. the noises between you two were soft. there was no need to rush, the race was over and tomorrow you'd be on the flight to the next one.

he took your hands and held them by your head, which kept you two close but also allowed him to keep you pinned under him. when you broke the kiss, you rested your forehead against his. the noises were harder to keep under wraps the more you moved. the pleasure felt like fireworks in your brain.

you moaned a little bit before you said, "i was thinking something stupid."

max chuckled his sweaty forehead against yours, "tell me."

"i realized what your eyes remind me of." you admitted softly, "i couldn't quite pin it after we met." you were breathing heavily as you locked your fingers further with his.

"and what do they remind of you?" he asked, curiously. he had heard people refer to them like the ocean, the sky after a store, the definition of blue.

you replied, "home. the lake near where i lived. not scary like the ocean. familiar like the lakes i grew up near."

max had no words, he simply laid another kiss on you. his hands grasped your tightly as you two moved together more. the pace quickened and max knew that he wanted to be in your life for a long period of time. he wanted you to be his home.

you moaned against the kiss, feeling the heat leap in your belly as you felt closer to orgasm. you came first with your lips against his. your back arched but your hands were pinned to the bed. it felt good as pleasure rushed to your brain.

max broke the kiss and continued to move against you. he let go of your hands in favour of your hips where he bounced your further against his cock. it made crackles of pleasure appear in your brain. and he was no better, his heavy breathing and occasional moan fueled his need to finish. and when he did, he did so inside of you. max never thought too much about the surgery you had, but he was thankful for it tonight.

he stayed inside of you for a moment as he cooled down before he left a kiss on the corner of your mouth. full of such tenderness as he pulled out of you and ran his fingers through his short hair.

you laid out next to him and heavily panting, feeling so vulnerable. he stayed closer to you, eventually pulling you to him and resting his chin on top of your head. you got comfortable against him.

"if you have any questions, i can answer them... about the whole trans thing." you swallowed, even now you felt embarrassed bringing it up. you felt it was a mood killer.

he took you by the chin and made you face him. he smiled down at you. he asked one question, "are you happy? did you get the life you wanted?"

you nodded in response, "everything and more." and that was enough for max. anything else you felt the need to tell him would be told with time, after all, max expected to be in your life for many years to come. both as his mechanic and lover.

-

max would only come clean about the relationship two years later. the end of his contract with red bull and a final championship was enough for the driver to retire peacefully. and when he retired, you retired and you made a home in monaco.

the coming out post set the internet ablaze. especially given how long you two had been together. wasn't anything too special, just a small collection of photos that he had taken over your time together. like the time you wore his helmet in 2025 with a big thumbs up. and that time you thoroughly messed up a birthday cake for him, and with the camera in your face, he rubbed the icing off your cheek. the one that really captured eyes was the one that a friend took of you at a house party when max came to visit your home country, with his legs over your strong lap and his lips against your face. you were smiling like the sun. being the center of a media storm was only braved with max by your side. at one point turning your phone off and throwing it onto the couch. his kisses were still loving as always, his words soft, and his affirmations of your gender were often so sweet that you'd cover your face in embarrassment.

you were always comfortable with the idea of not meeting your 'other half', you had been given a second chance at life once you came out. and if no one could accept you then so be it. but as you laid out on the couch laid out against your boyfriend with sassy at your side and your cat between the crook of your knee, you felt loved. <3

a/n: i do write for masc readers as well, both cis and beyond. just not as often because many request femme readers. but if an idea is cooking in your head. hit me with it!

[keferon]

So if you look to your left you’ll— *gets run over by train*

————————

“What is this,” Prowl asked softly, shifting uncomfortably as he felt a pulse of fond amusement crawl through him.

“You really didn’t think it all the way through when you changed your form for me, huh,” Jazz laughed inside him chassis, his soothing voice coming through his comm system and directly into his audio receptors.

Prowl frowned as his TacNet started picking apart the words, trying to discern their meaning. That fond amusement brightened, causing his system to stutter just a bit. His optics widened just a bit as something foreign guided his TacNet to a new system he didn’t notice he had.

NCS.

Neurological Connection System.

What???

“For a pilot to work with a mech, there has to be a DRIFT system, the NCS was the one that ran in my mech. And because you scanned my mech, you got all its systems, on top of your own,” Jazz explained with a grin.

Something giddy flowed in, chasing around that fond amusement that Prowl could still feel. His optics shuddered as his processor skipped a beat or two, TacNet settling on an answer to what the foreign feelings were.

“That is you. That feeling… it’s you,” Prowl whispered, lifting a servo to place it over his chassis, where Jazz was nestled near his spark.

“Yeah, that’s me, Prowler. You said you wanted to feel my EM field a while ago. I… I don’t gotta field to share, but I have this,” Jazz replied just as soft, and Prowl wrapped his EM field in tight, cradling this new and foreign feeling of his human counterpart.

This was Jazz. Jazz’s human equivalent to an EM field. It… it was beautiful. Jazz’s little field bursted in joy and relief, and Prowl could have cried at how soft it was. This felt intimate, deeper than just sharing an EM field. Not quite like spark-bonding, but oh so close.

“It’s wonderful, Jazz,” Prowl finally whispered, smiling fondly, doorwings flaring wide as if he could sense more of the field if he spread his sensors out as wide as he could.

Jazz preened happily in his little cockpit, and Prowl couldn’t help but laugh softly. His little human was full of surprises it seems.

—————————-

Firstly, idk where I was going with this.

Secondly, it made sense to me that Pilots would have some kind of neural link with their mech to assist in fighting cause reaction times with just controls wouldn’t be as perfect. It would also make sense as to why the idea of FirstAid becoming a pilot out of nowhere would be terrifying because “how the fuck did you survive the neural link”. Vortex could be killing his pilots by literally overloading their brains with the neural link. *head explosion style idk*

In other words, human EM field! But pacific rim drift style! With body horror Halo Spartan experimentation! Yay!

Idk!

I’m running on 2hrs of sleep! I just had another coffee! Don’t try this at home kids!

O U G H I CAN'T BELIEVE I ALMOST MISSED THIS ASK THIS IS BEAUTIFUL KHKGKHL

[crookedteethed]

18+ - mdni

ᥫ᭡. kook! jj, who can't keep his dick to himself.

warning: toxic!jj, cheating, public sex (fingering), language

You sighed, watching JJ flirt shamelessly with yet another woman at the Country Club bar. His pearly whites flashed as he leaned in close, whispering something that made her giggle. You rolled your eyes, sipping your martini.

A familiar pang of jealousy twisted in your gut, but you pushed it aside. This was nothing new. JJ had always been a player, even back when you first met him. You'd known exactly what you were getting into.

Still, you couldn't help but wonder why you stayed.

Maybe it was the way his khakis and Polo hugged his athletic frame, or how his cologne lingered tantalizingly whenever he brushed past. Or perhaps it was the thrill of being with someone so desired, knowing you were the one he came home to at the end of the night.

As if sensing your gaze, JJ glanced over and winked. Damn him and that roguish grin. Your anger melted away as he excused himself and sauntered back, sliding onto the barstool beside you.

With a sinister smirk, he leaned in close and whispered, "Did you miss me, gorgeous?" His hand slid up your thigh with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Despite your anger, JJ's touch ignited a fire within you that you couldn't resist.

Your mind raced as he brushed the hem of your skirt, reminding you of all the times he had bought you gifts to win you over. But this time, his touch felt like a threat, like a possessive mark left on your body.

"This a cute piece," he taunted, pulling at the fabric possessively,

"Did I buy you this cute little number?"You could feel yourself weakening under his manipulative hold and hated yourself for still wanting him despite everything he had done.

You tried to push away the memories, but they flooded back as his fingers traced patterns on your skin.

"I can tell your side piece over there can't get enough of you," you growled, nodding towards the girl JJ had been cozying up to, who was now frantically scanning the room for him.

"She ain't missing me, she's just craving my dick. I've already had her once--" he says casually, as if it means nothing.

"When?" you interrupt, your jealousy fueling your words. But deep down, you already know the answer and it makes your stomach churn with disgust.

"I don't know." Jay shrugs. " A week or so ago? Two weeks ago, maybe." He casually said, as if it means nothing.

Your blood boils and you feel sick to your stomach.

"You're such a pig," you spit out, unable to contain your disgust any longer. With a heavy heart, you stand up and walk away, unable to bear being near JJ any longer. But of course, he follows behind you, trying to make excuses or apologies that fall on deaf ears.

"Hey, come on, don't be like that," Jay's voice echoes after you, his footsteps pounding against the linoleum floors as he rushes to catch up. "I was just being honest."

You spin around, seething with rage as you lock eyes with him. "Honest? You're supposed to be loyal to me, Jackson, but instead you're out here screwing other women behind my back?" Every word drips with venom as you advance towards him, ready to unleash your pent-up fury.

"Sweetheart, come on." JJ tries to smooth things over in his suave manner, glancing around the deserted hallway before pulling you closer by your hips. "You know I love you, right? You're my everything."

JJ's face may have been a replica of his mother's flawless beauty, but his father's manipulative nature runs through his veins like a toxic poison.

The mere thought of Groff's influence on him ignites a fierce rage within you, intensifying as you feel JJ's hand creeping up your skirt once again--this time his fingers exploring the delicate lace of your panties. You can sense his intent, and it sends shivers down your spine as you struggle to contain the boiling fury inside you.

"You know I wouldn't intentionally hurt you, baby." His words do little to calm the storm brewing inside you as he looks at you with those soft, doe-like eyes--damn him--just as his palm cups your throbbing sex.

A moan escapes your lips as his cool Signant Ring presses against your engorged clit.

"Jay, we can't do this here," you hiss, turning your head to scan for any onlookers.

"Who says we can't?" He counters, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

Your senses are heightened as your eyes dart around, searching for prying eyes or gossiping villagers. The thought of being caught only intensifies the thrill coursing through your veins.

"Jay, please," you mewl, feigning resistance, though your hips betray you by arching closer to his touch. His lips curve into a smirk, knowing how deeply his ministrations affect you. He uses this knowledge ruthlessly as he presses down on your sweet spot with just enough pressure to have your toes curling in your heels.

"No one's looking," he whispers in your ear, his voice low and velvety, just as his fingers slipped beneath the silk of your panties. A shiver ran down your spine at the feeling of his fingertips brushing against your bare skin.

As JayJay's skilled fingers continued their exploration, your mind clouded over with desire. The combination the warmth of the room, and the knowledge that you could be discovered at any moment only served to heighten your arousal. You gripped the wall, desperate for support as sensation after sensation washed over you.

Suddenly, he slipped a single finger inside of you, and you couldn't help but moan louder this time, Smitten by lust, you didn't care. All that mattered was the delicious friction between your legs, the expert way his fingers moved in and out of you, plundering your depths with practiced ease.

As JayJay added a second finger, stretching you open even further, every ounce of resentment and jealousy you harbored vanished into thin air.

The smooth, probing digits hitting all the right spots within you, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your entire body. All that mattered in that moment was the exquisite sensations building up inside of you, demanding release.

That bitch at the bar, JJ's insufferable bragging about their sexual conquests—none of it mattered anymore. The only thing that mattered was the overwhelming need to come on JayJay's fingers, right there in the dimly lit corridors, far away from prying eyes but close enough to tease with the risk of getting caught.

The silence around you was deafening, broken only by the wet sounds of arousal escaping as Jay fingers pumped faster into your cunt, his blue eyes never leaving your face.

JJ could feel the tight grip of your pulsing pussy around his fingers, a clear indication that you were on the brink of ecstasy. He knows that if he can make you gush and lose control, you will forget about everything else - him, the girl at the bar, and any other thoughts that may have been occupying your mind.

JayJay added a third finger, stretching you deliciously, his thumb circling your clit as he began a relentless assault on your most sensitive spots. The wall behind you felt like the only thing keeping you grounded as your senses swam with lust and need. His gaze bored into yours, his smirk widening as he witnessed the effect he had on you. You were open and vulnerable in more ways than one.

The corridor spun dizzyingly around you, but all you could focus on was the pleasure building up inside you, coiled tighter and tighter as JayJay continued his expert ministrations. Your moans became louder, more desperate, and you didn't care who heard or saw anymore. All that mattered was reaching the peak that was so close yet so far away.

"That's it, baby," he cooed. "Let it all out f'me."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge. JayJay's fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot that made you see stars. Your legs trembled, threatening to give out as the pressure built to an almost unbearable level.

"J-JayJay," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so close…"

He leaned in, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispered, "Then come for me, sweetheart. Let me feel you fall apart."

That was all it took. With a cry that echoed through the corridor, you came undone around his fingers. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, your body shaking as JayJay worked you through your orgasm. He held you steady, his free arm wrapping around your waist to keep you upright as you rode out the high.

Jay’s lips curled into that devilish smirk—a signature of his, one that both thrilled and infuriated you. His fingers, slick with evidence of your surrender, brushed against your thigh as he slowly retreated, deliberately leaving a trail of heat in their absence. His blue eyes bored into yours, darkened with triumph and something more primal, something that left your knees trembling.

And just like that, JJ had you again in his magnet tar pit trap.

As JJ removed his fingers from your panties and brought them to your lips, coating your mouth in your own juices, savoring the sweet, musky taste of arousal. His eyes locked with yours, a challenge dancing in their depths.

"Taste yourself," he said, his voice low and commanding. Your cheeks flushed red, but the arousal coursing through your veins overpowered any last shreds of modesty.

Slowly, you parted your lips and closed them around his fingers, lapping up every drop of your essence. Your heart pounded in your chest as your tongue swirled around his digits, a sultry dance of your submission and desire.

JJ had treated you like shit, you knew, your friends knew, even JJ himself knew, yet you couldn't help the craving that swelled within you for him—a craving to be claimed, to be marked, to be his in every way that mattered.

as always, reblogs and comments keeps me motivated. 🫶🏾

[treeguzzler]

was up at 4am thinking about megumi🗣️

look me in the eyes and tell me that megumi doesn’t get jealous when he sees you on his bed, body in his shirt (which you look absolutely stunning in), wrapped all snug in his blanket…

… cuddling with his divine dogs.

megumi isn’t normally a jealous person— why would he need to be jealous when he’s got you by his side?

but the way your high pitched giggles filled the room’s atmosphere, paired with the two divine dogs on each side of you, stirs something in him. yeah, sure, it’s a heart squeezing (in a good way) sight to behold— a sight that megumi would take in bit-by-bit, savoring it— it takes every centimeter, no, every nanometer of his being not to keel over, clutching his left chest in pure adoration of his partner and cooing at the sight. he’d be a sinner to even think that the glorious sight in front of him didn’t make him want to drop to his knees and worship your very being.

but a sinner he shall be.

his girl, his girl, the very woman he devoted his heart, soul and very being to every second he was breathing, was currently busy showering his shikigami with love, honeyed coos and words along the lines of “good doggies!” spilling out of her mouth while said ‘doggies’ were slobbering her cheeks with drool. (why did he even summon his divine dogs again?)

though he too, did adore (once again, something he wouldn’t say out loud) his divine dogs, he couldn’t help but feel like he should have let them be destroyed by a curse in a mission. (intrusive thoughts)

sure, they were his shikigami. with a flick of a finger could he have them be gone from sight, leaving all your attention to be focused onto him. but for some odd reason, he couldn’t bring himself to do that. it wasn’t because he loved you (believe me, he does, and would continue to do so even if the sky were to fall and the ground give way to the curses), but it was because he felt… what was the word now? domestic? he didn’t know how to properly phrase what he was thinking about at the moment, having not felt this feeling for majority of his childhood. there was only a subtle gnawing feeling in his chest, but not the bad type of feeling. (it might not make sense but) it was the type of feeling that whispered in his ear:

she’s the one.

as megumi’s usually sharp gaze softened into something much more fonder (he looked at you as if you just went to outer space and picked out a star to bring back for him because he said stars were pretty), he really couldn’t help but wonder what he had truly done to deserve such an adorable sight to be put in front if his eyes.

damn, should he just wife you up the second you both reach the legal age?

“h-hey! ‘gumi c’mere and cuddle! they want you too!”

“huh? oh yeah coming…”

oh how megumi wishes he could wife you up right at that moment.

[klausysworld]

hii! could you please do a klaus x stefan x reader smut.

(klaus and reader are in a relationship.) klaus dares her to suck stefan off whilst sat on his lap. Klaus feels her getting wet as she sucks stefan off and says something like “that’s it love, cover my fingers in your cum”

could you also please include degrading pet names and klaus getting possessive like “does he taste as good as I do love?”

then he fucks reader out of jealousy/possessiveness and makes her and stefan hold eye contact.

I totally understand if you’re not comfortable doing this!! thank youu 🤍

Indulgences

I had been with Klaus for a couple of years now. He made me feel safe despite knowing how dangerous he was.

Klaus had his ups and downs of course but who didn't? I still loved him.

Even when he proposed ideas of threesomes sometimes and I'd have to watch as he made love to another woman, although he always insisted it wasn't love making and it never meant anything.

I didn't always like having to share him but it made him happy so I did.

Sometimes I could tell right away when he saw a woman that he'd want us to be with later. He always made sure to pay me attention too during the sessions but it wasn't the same as when it was just us.

Sometimes I would pull away and he'd send the other girl home. He would pull me back to him and kiss my face.

"I'm sorry sweetheart." Klaus would whisper, his fingers in my hair. "It wasn't a good time and I should have recognised that." He would murmur. "I'll make it up to you, my love."

And he always would.

That was his only fault really, that he indulged a little too much. But it could have been a lot worse.

When we got to Mystic Falls I got to stay in my own hotel whilst he did his supernatural business but he made sure to come over in the evenings to have dinner with me and spend some time.

It was hard when he turned into a wolf for a couple days, we hadn't really been apart since we'd gotten together but when he messaged me to come over to an address I knew something was happening.

When I got there I could already tell something was different about him as he wrapped his arms around my hips and pulled me in for a kiss. His eyes were gold when I looked up at them before they faded back to blue. Just after that the sound of heaving pulled my attention to the man on the floor, face dripping with blood.

Klaus pet my back as he kissed my ear. "Stefan's coming with us to find our wolves." He murmured and I nodded.

"Okay." I whispered and nodded and he smiled.

"We'll buy you some new clothes on the way, do you want to go get in the car?" He asked but it was demand disguised.

"Should I sit in the back?" I asked but he shook his head.

"No love, you stay beside me; always." He murmured and kissed my lips firmly before guiding me to the door.

Throughout the trip I was nice to Stefan and in return he was nice to me. Sometimes I would think that if I ever got to choose who we had a threesome with that it would be Stefan.

He was kind of like Klaus; sometimes he looked scary but he had a gentleness to him and he felt safe too. I wondered if he was like Klaus in bed too, if he needed to have threesomes with his girl.

Sometimes I thought about him when Klaus slid between my legs on top of the hotel bed. I wondered if Stefan could hear us through the walls. I wondered what he thought.

I'd look over at him when we were just standing around, waiting for Klaus to come out and sent Stefan in. Stefan would look back at me, smile a little and sometimes if we were stood close enough his hand would touch mine before Klaus could see.

But I didn't not love Klaus. I definitely did.

And I enjoyed being with him, feeling him hold me and touch me. He would ask me what was wrong and he would wake up early to get me some breakfast. Every now and then he would ask if he could drink from me which was something we only really did during passionate sex on special occasions but I think he could sense something off on the trip.

I must've been staring too long, Klaus picked up on it and he had dragged me up the hotel stairs.

"Do you like him, love? You like how Stefan looks?" He sneered, hands gripping my arms as he held me against the wall. "You want to feel him, don't you? Taste him, fuck him." He growled and I looked down, feeling guilty.

His breathing was heavy as a silence hung over us. I sniffed a bit and he sighed, his hold loosening before he caressed my arms and pulled me in for a hug.

"I'm sorry." I whimpered and he nuzzled my hair.

"I can't be angry with you sweetheart. You're perfect for me and you've done this for me so many times." He murmured.

"Done what?" I whispered and he cupped my face, tilting my head up to look at him.

"Indulged." He muttered, eyes dark as he kissed my lips. "I have no doubt Stefan won't be interested sweetheart, I know he looks at you too. I just wasn't sure it was mutual."

"We don't have to." I mumbled and shook my head. "I don't even want to, I don't like sharing." I pulled away and he guided me back to him.

"You don't have to do any sharing this time, my love. I'll learn to share this time." He told me with a kiss to the side of my head and as much as the idea had an appeal, I didn't really want anybody like I wanted Klaus.

"I only like you inside me." I whispered, remembering the only other time we had been with a man instead of a woman and he had had me whilst Klaus watched. It didn't feel right, not like Klaus did.

"Then you can just do as much as you'd like. Maybe you just want a touch or a tase? Allow me to give you this sweetheart. I want this for you." Klaus convinced and I considered it.

We didn't talk about it again, but I'd wondered if Klaus mentioned it to Stefan. The vampire had been eyeing me much more, his touch lingering whenever he got the chance and it was making my body crazy.

When we got to Chicago and Klaus woke up his sister Rebekah, I felt jealous. She and Stefan looked at each other with nothing but desire. I didn't want to share.

So once we got to the hotel and Rebekah went into her room, I went into Stefan's.

He was already grinning when I stepped inside and his hands gripped my waist. "I knew you wouldn't be able to keep ignoring me." He whispered, his forehead against mine.

I was down on the hotel bed in a second and everything felt right, except for one thing. "Klaus." I whined, my body sitting up but Stefan pushed me back down.

"He's on his way." He murmured and kissed my lips, It felt so good. I had to wonder if it felt that good when Klaus got to do that with other girls.

For a brief second, I forgot about Klaus and just focused on Stefan. The coldness of his hands, the taste of his tongue.

But Klaus made sure I wouldn't truly forget him.

I was lifted away from Stefan after a few moments and Klaus's warmth swallowed me.

"Tsk, my love." He scolded but his eyes and tone held no malice as he kissed my cheek. "Shouldn't be starting without me."

"I'm sorry." I mumbled but I wasn't, he had started without me before.

The buttons were picked undone one by one until my body was bare in Klaus's lap. "Look at Stefan, sweetheart." He murmured, his hand turning my head so I was looking at Stefan's naked body. He was leant back against the headboard and pillows, body on display and knowing smile on his face. My eyes drifted down to his cock, hard and waiting for me like Klaus's always was. "Good girl, go ahead." Klaus whispered, hands smoothing my body.

I could feel the nerves building as I crawled forward, Stefan's hands were immediately in my hair and guiding me down. I kissed softly from his base to the tip, listening to his breathing hitch and feeling Klaus grip my hips with tension.

He felt different against my tongue, I traced along the most prominent veins and up to the head, tucking lightly and listening to him groan.

"Mmm, just like that-" Stefan groaned and Klaus chuckled.

"Hear that, love? Stefan loves what a good cocksucker you are." He breathed into my ear and I whimpered with my lips still stretched around Stefan.

My head was pushed and pulled up and down, my throat relaxing to feel every inch of his shaft pump between the muscle. My eyes were half closed, Stefan's groaning face above me now blur.

My mind was a haze as my tongue rubbed at his skin swallowed every hint of a taste of his impending release.

Just as I sucked off the few beads of pre cum form his tip, two fingers slid through my folds making my body arch on instinct.

I went to lift my head, to look but a firm palm pushed me down. "Don't you dare." Klaus's voice growled from behind me. "We both know you want to feel him cum down that pretty throat of yours so keep going." He ordered as fingers pushed inside my cunt making me whimper and squirm in his lap.

I swallowed around Stefan's cock again, trying to reduce the amount I was salivating around him.

Klaus's fingers curled inside me, stroking me from the inside and making me clench around him.

Stefan's hands stroked me head, urging me to keep going.

Everything was so overwhelming, my body was already full of need just from the thought of any of this happening let alone it actually occurring.

They both felt so good, I could taste Stefan ready to cum and feel my cunt in a similar state.

Klaus could feel it too.

"Already about to cum on my fingers, love?" He purred, his lips behind my ear making shivers slip down my spine. "Go on, sweetheart. Show Stefan what a slutty pussy you have. Cum on my fingers." He commanded, his voice low and dark as both fingers moved withs supernatural speed.

My body rocked with his hand as Stefan's taste burst against my tongue and throat and his cry of relief broke through the tension of the air. I could feel myself shaking as I let go around Klaus's hand and swallowed Stefan's cum away, sucking the head for the last bit to come out.

My lips slipped off him, my cheek resting against his bare thigh as I panted and felt Klaus's fingers slowly circle my clit.

Klaus wrapped his arms around my midsection, pulling me back against his clothed chest. "That's my girl." He murmured, kissing my ear softly. "But that's enough. You're mine." He whispered, carrying me out of the hotel room, leaving Stefan a mess and bringing me up to the suite.

I was laid back down on my side, his body holding my down like usual. "I hated every second of that." He muttered, "Feeling how soaked you got from using that tongue on someone else." I whimpered in response and looked up at him as he shoved his belt off and tore the zipper straight off my jeans, letting his cock spring free.

I let out a cry when he pushed inside me in one fast thrust, a groan leaving him. "Klaus-" I gasped and he leant down to swallow my words. Our tongue tangled together before pulled away with a grunt and rocked his hips quickly.

"Tell me I taste better." He growled and I moaned.

"You do..." I whispered and he let out a puff of air.

"Say it."

"You taste better, better than Stefan- ah!" I cried out as he thrust particularly hard.

His hand was around my throat, keeping me down and at his mercy as his body moved in a frenzy against mine

I could feel his lack of control compared to usual, he was angry. It made him faster, his cockhead smacking into my spot repeatedly, so much so that It just felt as if he were rubbing right against it.

My pussy was weeping around him, wetting my thighs and the sheets below as I whimpered and moaned his name weakly.

His body collapsed into mine, his arms clinging to me tight as he nuzzled my throat and sucked a dark mark into the skin. His fangs pierced the skin but it didn't hurt much anymore.

We were rolled so I was on top of him, his cock still half hard and held between my walls.

"I love you." He murmured. "And I love all you do for me." In response I just tucked my head under his chin and let his hands guide my legs either side of his hips. "You're mine." He whispered and I smiled because I knew it.

[lizzieolseniskinda]

LOGAN HOWLETT - furrgiveness

x FEM!reader (POC!friendly)

SUMMARY: a furry animal gets your plans cancelled.

WORD COUNT: ?

GENRE: fluff

CONTENT WARNING: english is not my first language and i absolutely hate this

it was a friday night at the mansion, and it was unnervingly quiet for a school. logan leaned against his doorframe, and stared at the clock, waiting for you but you never came. the two of you had planned to grab a drink at his favorite bar - nothing fancy, but it was at least something. something you both enjoyed.

except, you once again, cancelled. no reason or explanation, just a short, “sorry, can’t make it tonight.” and with that you were gone.

this was the third time that week. heck, the seventh time in two weeks that you'd bailed and logan started to notice a pattern. you weren't just ditching him, jean, storm, even scott had mentioned your sudden disappearances. but logan took it a little more personally. you didn't have to spend every waking minute with him, but the lack of explanation? that ate him from the inside out. he wasn't even sure why he kept making plans for the both of you.

now, instead of staying at the mansion like a love sick fool, waiting for another canceled plan. logan grabbed his jacket and headed out. the bar in the next upcoming town had become his escape for nights like this - when things didn't make sense, and whiskey could at least dull a smart part of his irritation.

saturday morning passed, and logan still hadn't returned.

you hadn't meant for things to happen like this, guilt had been gnawing at you for weeks, but it come to a point where it was almost unbearable. you knew logan was frustrated, just like your friends. he never did say much, but the way hs expression tightened with each cancellation told you enough.

you didn't want to cancel - not on logan, or on girl's day with jean or storm, and certainly not on scott - who always made you watch scary movies with him. scott started giving you side eyes and stern look during your training together. there was something you couldn't tell them, not yet anyway.

besides, it wasn’t even that bad.

and logan… well, he hadn't come home last night. when you canceled on him for the millionth time. not that it was unusual for him to disappear every now and then to blow off steam. but something about this time felt different. it wasn't just frustration on his part. you could see it - the hurt beneath his facade that he put up.

you decided to put the facts straight.

by saturday afternoon, you decided to make up your mind and find him. you knew where he'd be. the bar wasn't far from the mansion, a ten minute drive and 30 minutes if you walked. it was a place logan went when he needed space.

walking into the bar, you spotted him immediately, he was hunched over the counter, nursing a glass of whiskey. he didn't seem as tense as the night before, but there was still a slight shadow of frustration hanging over him.

you walked up to him quietly, sliding onto the stool next to him, he reeked of liquor and cigarettes. "logan?"

he didn't look at you right away, just took another sip from his glass. on the bar was a cigar that was halfway done. "what're you doin' here?" his voice low, gruff.

you fiddled with your fingers. "i came to talk, i thought i'd owe you an explanation."

logan finally turned to look at you, his eyes scanning your face. "yeah, you do. been bailin' on everyone, 'specially me. kinda makes a guy wonder what the hell's goin' on."

"yeah.." you replied softly, biting the inside of your cheek. "i'm sorry logan. i didn't mean to keep canceling like that. i just.. i didn't know how to explain it to you."

logan raised his eyebrow, waiting to hear your explanation.

you sighed, feeling the weight of the past few weeks pressing down on you. "there's a reason i've been avoiding plans. not that i don’t want to hang out with you - or jean or scott or anyone.”

“then what the hell is goin’ on?” logan asked, his voice laced with confusion.

you swallowed, “i’ve been taking care of something.”

logan frowned. his brows knitting together. “takin’ care of what? don’t tell me you’re dealin’-“

“no! oh my gosh, no!” you stopped him before he could finish his sentence. “it’s a kitten,” you admitted. “i found her outside the mansion a few weeks ago. she was sick and alone, and i couldn’t just leave her out there.”

logan blinked, i mean it was better than what he thought at first. “a kitten?”

you nodded. “yeah, she’s been needing a lot of attention- feeding, medicine, litter box you know. that’s why i’ve been cancelling everything. i didn’t mean to blow you off, logan, i just had to take care of her.”

logan stared at you, his expression softened just a bit. "why didn't you tell anyone? why keep it a secret?"

you sighed, "because animals aren't allowed in the mansion, logan. you know how strict xavier is about that. the furniture, the old wood - they don't want anything getting ruined. and i don't want anyone to get in trouble because of me."

logan let out a breath, setting his glass down with a soft thud on the bar. "so you've been sneaking around, just to take care a kitten?"

you nodded, "yeah. i thought if i could just keep it a secret it’d be okay. but… i didn’t think about how it would look for you. i didn’t mean for it to come off like i was avoiding you.”

logan was quiet for a long moment, his eyes still on you. then, after what felt like an eternity, he shook his head, a small, dry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “you’re an idiot, y’know that?”

you blinked, surprised. “what?”

logan let out a low chuckle, the tension finally breaking. “you think i give a damn about some furniture or old wood? if you’ve got somethin’ goin’ on, you tell me. i can handle it- i can handle charles. you hidin’ stuff — that’s what pisses me off.”

you felt the relief wash over you, your shoulders finally relaxing. “i’m sorry, logan. i really didn’t mean to hurt you.”

logan grunted, taking another sip of his drink. “yeah, well. you did. but i get it now.”

you nodded, giving him a small, apologetic smile. “i’ll make it up to you. no more secrets, i swear.”

logan’s smirk widened slightly. “damn right, no more secrets.”

for a moment, the two of you just sat there in silence, the weight of the past few weeks finally lifting. logan’s frustration had faded, replaced by the familiar ease you usually shared.

“so,” he said, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow. “what’re you gonna do with the kitten?”

you smiled, a genuine warmth spreading through you. “i don’t know yet. i’ll figure something out. maybe i should find her a home. but… for now, i’ll keep her out of trouble. away from the furniture.”

logan chuckled again, shaking his head. “you’re somethin’ else, kid.”

as the two of you sat in the bar, the tension and frustration finally fading. no more secrets, no more cancellations.

just you, logan, and maybe a kitten (or two).

“also, i’m pretty sure charles already knows. being a mindreader and all.”

[hoonven]

CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS

2.1K ⸺ a moment of clarity brings you back to your fiancé, flour-dusted and waiting, and somehow, amid the remnants of your champagne problems, you find hope stirring in the winter air

‎PAIRING! fiancé!park sunghoon x female reader

GENRES! fluff, angst, established relationship, hurt/comfort

WARNINGS! mentions of emotionally absent parents, brief mention of food, the reader struggles with overcoming childhood fears, i think that’s it lmk if i missed anything

Park Sunghoon was like snow, a silent beauty in the unforgiving frigid season of winter. He was the joy of building snowmen, the thrill of snowball fights, and the wonder of making snow angels. He was the delicate touch of snowflakes melting on your skin, the serene hush of snowfall blanketing the world. He was the sweetness of gingerbread cookies and the warmth of hot cocoa brimming with marshmallows. He was the comfort of a flickering fireplace, the softness of a fuzzy blanket wrapped tightly around you, the subtle perfume of winter spices from a burning candle.

Park Sunghoon was like snow—pure, ethereal, and timeless. He shone like the star atop a Christmas tree, his presence brought the excitement of a gift waiting to be unwrapped. He was the nostalgia of holiday movies you’ve seen a hundred times, yet never grew tired of.

Park Sunghoon was winter’s magic, a special spirit that blessed the earth in all its glory.

So why did you feel the biting cold?

It was exactly a year ago on Christmas Eve, and his proposal was perfect. The snow-covered gazebo twinkled with string lights, the crisp air carried the scent of pine, and a soft melody of carolers drifted from the town square. His hand, trembling but steady, had pulled a blue velvet box from his coat pocket. He smiled, warm and sure, as if he already knew your answer.

“Will you marry me?” he’d asked. The four simple words spoken in the kind of voice that could thaw an endless winter.

Your heart swelled, your hands shook, and you whispered a quiet “yes.” But later that night, as you laid in bed staring at the ceiling while the world outside froze over, doubt crept in like frost spreading across a windowpane.

Your mother’s voice rang in your ears, in weary resignation. You remembered how she used to sit by the window in the afternoons, staring out at a world she never felt part of anymore. “I gave up everything,” she had said once. “For my kids. For my husband. And look where it got me.”

The memory tightened around your chest like a vice. Sunghoon wasn’t like your father—he wasn’t distant, distracted, or cold. He was attentive, affectionate, and endlessly patient. But still, what if? What if marrying him meant losing yourself, too? What if everything started out great and then slowly got worse just like it did for your parents?

“Talk to me,” he said one evening, his voice soft but firm as he pulled you from the kitchen where you’d been stirring a pot of soup you didn't intend to eat. The engagement ring on your finger catches the light, a reminder of the promise you made but aren’t sure you can keep.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, refusing to meet his eyes.

“You’re lying.” His hands gently rest on your shoulders, his thumbs brushing reassuring circles. “You’ve been somewhere else since last Christmas Eve.”

You paused for a moment, caught off guard. You had almost forgotten how good he was at psychologizing you in the midst of your internal battle. But you lie again—because it's what comes most naturally to you when someone asks if you're okay.

“It’s nothing. I’m just stressed.”

“It’s not nothing. I can see it on your face. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

His persistence feels like sunlight breaking through clouds, but you’re not ready to let the warmth in. You pull away, wrapping your arms around yourself as if shielding your heart from his. “I just… I don’t know if I can do this. What if I end up like my mom? What if I lose myself in this, Sunghoon?”

The words hang in the air like smoke, and for a moment, his expression cracks—hurt flickering across his features like a candle about to go out. But then he steps closer, his voice steady, gentle. “You’re not your mom. And I’m not your dad. Your mom had dreams, ambitions—things she was passionate about just like you. But the difference is you found someone who loves that about you. I would never ask you to give any of that up.”

“But what if I do anyway?” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes. “What if I forget who I am because I love you too much?”

“Then I’ll remind you,” he said simply. “Every day, if I have to.”

His words chipped away at the icy wall you had built around yourself, but fear is a stubborn thing, clinging even as warmth seeps in.

You suppose that's why you're sitting on a couch, staring at the framed watercolor painting on the wall—something abstract, meant to be calming, but to you, it’s just a swirl of indistinct shapes. Your hands fidget with the hem of your knit sweater as the snow-laden world outside the window reflects your mood: quiet, heavy, and cold.

“Y/N?”

The sound of your name pulls you back. Your therapist, Dr. Hart, leans forward slightly, her pen poised over her notepad. Her voice is soft, patient. “What’s on your mind?”

You blink, feeling the heat of her steady gaze. “Oh, um…” You hesitate, glancing down at your hands. “Nothing, really. Just lost in thought.”

Dr. Hart tilts her head, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Nothing’s rarely ever nothing. Take your time.”

For a moment, the room feels too small, too quiet, but you exhale and decide to speak. “Sunghoon,” you admit softly.

“Your fiancé?”

You nod, feeling a pang in your chest as the word settles between you. Fiancé. It’s supposed to feel joyful, exciting, but lately, it’s felt complicated.

“I love him,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. “I really do. He’s kind, supportive, and everything I could ever ask for in a man. But ever since he proposed, I’ve been… scared?”

Dr. Hart doesn’t interrupt, her expression open and encouraging.

“I keep thinking about my parents,” you continue. “My mom gave up everything to be with my dad. She stopped working, stayed home to raise me and my siblings, and over time, she just… lost herself. She used to love winning lawsuits for her clients, but eventually, all she did was clean and cook and wait for him to come home. She became so bitter, and my dad barely noticed. I don’t want that to happen to me. I don’t want to lose myself like she did.”

“And you’re afraid marrying Sunghoon will put you on the same path,” Dr. Hart says, her voice gentle.

You nod, your throat tightening. “I know Sunghoon isn’t my dad. He’s nothing like him. But what if I am like my mom? What if, without meaning to, I give up who I am because I love him too much?”

Dr. Hart lets the silence linger for a moment before speaking. “It sounds like you’ve built a wall around yourself, trying to protect your identity and your independence. And that’s not a bad thing—those parts of you are important. But Y/N, have you ever asked yourself this: is Sunghoon asking you to give those parts up?”

You blink, her question catching you off guard, and you're reminded of your conversation with him a few days ago when he pulled you out of the kitchen. “No,” you admit quietly. “He’s always encouraging me to do what I love. And reminding me to take breaks when I get too wrapped up in work.”

Dr. Hart nods thoughtfully. “It seems to me that the fear you’re holding onto doesn’t come from Sunghoon. It comes from your past—from what you saw in your parents’ relationship. You’ve taken that fear and made it your own, but it doesn’t have to be. You are not your mother, and Sunghoon is not your father. Their story is not yours.”

Her words land like a stone sinking into water, rippling through your thoughts.

“But what if I still mess it up?” you ask, your voice small. “What if I get it wrong?”

Dr. Hart smiles gently. “Every relationship takes work, compromise, and communication. But the fact that you’re here, reflecting on your fears, tells me you care deeply about doing this right. Sunghoon sounds like someone who sees you for who you are and loves you as you are. Maybe the question isn’t about whether you’ll lose yourself but whether you’ll allow yourself to trust you—and him.”

The knot in your chest loosens, her words settling like fresh snow over the chaos in your mind.

“Trust him,” you echo softly, more to yourself than to her.

Dr. Hart nods. “And trust yourself. You are not defined by your parents’ choices. You have the power to create the future you desire.”

For the first time in a year, the weight on your shoulders feels a little lighter. You leave the session feeling like the frost in your heart is starting to melt, warmed by the realization that maybe, just maybe, you can be brave enough to trust in the love you’ve found—and the person you’ve grown to be.

The smell hits you first—something warm and sweet, mingling with the faintest hint of something burning. You push open the front door, stepping into the glow of the tiny Christmas tree you and Sunghoon had decorated last week. Lights twinkle softly, casting shadows that dance on the walls, but it’s the sound of soft muttering coming from the kitchen that makes you smile.

When you round the corner, you stop in your tracks.

Sunghoon is standing by the counter, dusted in flour from his hair to his slippers, poking at a tray of slightly misshapen cookies. He’s wearing the most outrageously festive apron you’ve ever seen—bright red with cartoon reindeer and candy canes, a pair of oven mittens that look like Santa’s hands resting on the counter. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he lifts one cookie with a spatula, only for it to crumble in half.

“Oh, come on,” he grumbles under his breath, shaking his head.

You press a hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh, but the sound escapes anyway, and his head snaps up.

“You’re home,” he says, his eyes lighting up despite the flour smudged on his cheek. “Uh, surprise?”

“What are you doing?” you ask, stepping closer.

He shrugs sheepishly, glancing at the mess on the counter. “I thought I’d try making your favorite holiday cookies. You know, the ones your mom always made? I figured it might cheer you up.” He winces as he looks at the tray. “But, uh, they didn’t turn out as planned. I think I overdid the ginger or… probably everything.”

Your chest tightens, but not with anxiety this time. It’s the kind of warmth that spreads slowly, filling the cracks you’ve been carrying.

You see it then, as clear as the frost on the windowpane: you are not your mother, and Sunghoon is not your father.

Your mother gave up everything, but you won’t. You’ve built a life filled with love, with purpose, with someone who sees you for who you are and encourages you to be more. Sunghoon doesn’t take from you—he gives.

The thought warms you like a fire on a cold winter night.

“Sunghoon,” you whisper, your voice catching.

He frowns, stepping toward you. “What’s wrong? Did something happen at therapy?”

You shake your head, and before he can say anything else, you close the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him tightly. He freezes for a moment, surprised, then melts into the hug, his arms slipping around your waist.

“I love you,” you murmur into his shoulder. “And I'm sorry for being so distant, for letting my fears get in the way. You’ve been so patient with me, and I should’ve trusted you more. Trusted myself more. I should’ve trusted us more.”

“I love you, Sunghoon, and I want to marry you.” You say, the words spilling out like a confession. “I just needed time to remember that I’m not her. And you’re not him.”

His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, his touch gentle. “Hey, it’s okay,” he says softly. “I know you’ve been through a lot. I just wanted to remind you that I’m here, no matter what.”

You pull back slightly to look at him, tears pricking your eyes. “We’re gonna be okay, right?” you ask, your voice trembling.

His gaze is steady, warm, as he cups your cheek with his flour-dusted hand. “We’re gonna be more than okay. You’re not her, Y/N. You’re you—stubborn in all the best ways.” His lips quirk into a small smile. “And you’re stuck with me, reindeer apron and all.”

A laugh bubbles out of you, light and free. “You look ridiculous by the way,” you say, brushing a smudge of flour from his cheek.

“Ridiculously handsome,” he counters with a grin.

You roll your eyes but lean in to kiss him, a silent promise in the way your lips meet. Outside, snow falls softly, blanketing the world in a quiet peace. And in his arms, you finally feel warm.

© 2024 hoonven, all rights reserved. i do not give permission to modify, repost, translate, or plagiarize my works on any platform. NETWORK! @kstrucknet

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 15

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 2.7k

Note : I have a lot on my inbox and I haven’t been replying a lot lately, but I will go through them tomorrow! Please let me know if I miss anyone on the tags! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

“Name a Price”

Tuesday.

You had said it all—every bitter feeling, every thread of anger that festered so deep inside you that you barely knew where you ended and it began. Alex hadn’t interrupted, hadn’t even shifted in her seat.

She just sat there beside you, listening like she did the first time.

Not as someone who pitied you— but as a friend.

For a while, she didn’t say anything. 

You stared at the glass case in front of you, the one holding Bucky’s war uniform— a symbol of his past that he was still piecing together.

You began to wonder if he’d been someone else back then— someone untouched by Hydra’s corruption. 

But you knew better. That uniform belonged to a man already carrying scars from war you couldn’t begin to fathom. Hydra just amplified it, took advantage of it, added to it.

“I’m not defending Bucky,” Alex finally spoke, “But let me ask you something—hypothetically. If you were still with him, and he somehow forgot all about his Winter Soldier days, would you remind him?”

What?

You turned to her sharply, mouth agape with shock. “That’s not fair.”

“I’m not trying to be fair,” she replied calmly, “it was just a hypothetical question.”

Your hands clenched into fists in your lap. “But that’s neither here nor there,” you muttered, looking away.

“Is it?” Alex pressed, her tone patient but unrelenting. “The only difference I see is scale.”

Her words lingered in your brain like a disease spreading. You wanted to snap at her, to tell her it wasn’t the same thing at all, but… wasn’t it?

“Well,” you said, your voice faltering a little, your conviction a little less absolute. “It’s not the same,” you insisted. “It’s a painful memory for him, and he wouldn’t know how to process it. I wouldn’t want to…”

Your voice trailed off, realising your answer.

The truth— the truth was that you wouldn’t tell him. 

You wouldn’t tell him because you couldn’t bear to see the pain, to see the humanity ripped away again. You wouldn’t be able to look at the way it would twist his beautiful blue eyes and pull him back into the darkness he’d spent so long trying to climb out of. You wouldn’t tell him because you didn’t think you could survive watching him rip himself apart, questioning his very existence, his place in the world.

But was that fair? Could you make that choice for him?

Alex’s voice cut through your spiralling thoughts. “Doesn’t he deserve to know the truth?”

You flinched, feeling the words hit like a punch. 

“It wouldn’t be my place to give it to him,” you said, your tone harsher than you intended— like it was your last line of defence. 

“So you’d be complicit,” Alex said bluntly.

That word stunned you. It froze you in place.

Complicit.

You felt your chest tighten, your breath stopping for a split second. 

Complicit. 

Like Yelena.

The realisation struck you like a punch to the gut. 

Even as you tried to tend to the wounds, you still held a grudge against Yelena for what she’d done, for keeping the truth from you. You hated the way she had looked at you with pity in her eyes. You hated that she’d known all along. You hated that she knew when the truth came out, it would destroy you. 

But now, you realised, if you were in Yelena’s shoes, wouldn’t you have done the exact same thing?

“And how do you think he’d feel if he found out the way you did?” Alex continued quietly.

You swallowed hard, but the lump in your throat wouldn’t go away. 

You didn’t have to imagine it. You already knew— you knew exactly how he’d feel.

He’d feel like the ground had been ripped out from under him, like the air had been stolen from his lungs. He’d feel betrayed. Hurt. 

Like his entire world was a lie.

Just like you had.

You loved Alex— she was your friend— but you hated how exposed you felt, how easily her words broke down the walls you've built around yourself.

“It’s not that simple,” you said, your voice breaking.

“I know,” Alex replied, she put her hand on yours, trying to keep you steady. “But I think… Bucky did what he did out of love. It doesn’t make it right, but it doesn’t make it wrong either. It makes it human.”

“So what?” You almost snapped if not for the stray sob that escaped your mouth. “I’m just supposed to forgive him? Pretend like it’s all okay because he meant well?”

“No,” Alex said firmly. “You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to hurt.” She paused, her eyes holding yours. “But ask yourself this: what’s holding on to this anger costing you?”

You knew exactly what it cost you: it cost you your happiness, and his.

—

When you stepped into your apartment, you saw him.

Bucky stood in the kitchen, his back turned to you, shoulders tense he moved around the stove. The soft clatter of utensils and the low hiss of simmering liquor on the burner made your apartment feel like him. 

The scent was rich, warm, and familiar. It was your favourite dish. 

On the table nearby, your clear vase was now home to a bouquet of flowers, your favourite flowers— the ones he always teased you about loving because they never lasted long. You’d playfully huff, telling him it bloomed so beautifully in the short time it had lived. 

They were arranged with painstaking care—one you knew Bucky was capable of. The petals were flawless, the colours vibrant, as if he’d combed through hundreds of blooms to find the most perfect ones.  

“Hey,” he said softly. He turned to face you, his movements careful, as if afraid to shatter the fragile truce between you. 

When his eyes found yours, a tentative smile curved his lips. His voice was different— gentle, stripped of the defensive edge you had expected.

Your breath hitched.

You’d imagined this moment countless times while you were laying in the hospital bed. 

In some versions, your fury took centre stage, unleashed on him like a storm. In others, the anger had dulled, leaving only an all- consuming sadness, refusing to acknowledge he existed all together. 

You had breached for him to plead, to beg. But this? This peace, this tenderness—it wasn’t what you’d prepared for. 

“Hi,” you managed to say, your voice barely more than a whisper. It felt heavy, like the first crack in a dam threatening to spill. You closed the door behind you, and walked to the dinner table, sitting down before your knees gave out.

Bucky turned back to the stove, setting the spoon down, giving himself a moment to gather his thoughts. He wiped his hands on a towel before walking over to the table. 

His movements were careful, like a man walking a tightrope. “I didn’t want you to come back to… an empty home. Not again,” he murmured, his hand raking through his hair, as it always did when he was anxious. “So I thought I’d, uh, take care of the place. Until you came back. If you came back.”

You stared at him, then at his careful effort he’d put into making the apartment feel welcoming. After all this time, your home didn’t feel yours anymore— not entirely.. It felt like it belonged to both of you. 

“You didn’t have to do this,” you said finally, your voice trembling. 

“I know,” he said, his voice barely holding steady. His eyes met yours, and for the first time since the hospital, there was no mask, no shield. No defences raised, no excuses. “But I wanted to.”

The vulnerability in his eyes was an invitation, not a deflection.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” he said, breaking the moment as he turned back to the stove.

You nodded, fingers brushing over the soft petals of the flowers. Questions swirled in your mind—so many questions, accusations, words you’d rehearsed over and over. But you didn’t say any of them. Instead, you let him take care of you as you once did— you let him finish dinner.  

When he finally brought the plates over, he sat across from you, his hands resting on his knees like he was bracing for impact. You stared at the food, then at him.

“Thank you,” you said. Picking up your fork felt… comforting. It felt like home.

“I can go,” he said suddenly, almost panicked. “I’ll do the dishes and leave.”

“No,” you said quickly, the word surprising even yourself. Your chest tightened as you recalled your conversation with Alex, her reminder that he was human, a reminder that healing could only start if you accepted that he could make mistakes. You set your fork down and met his eyes. “I’m ready to talk.”

Bucky hesitated, his fingers tracing anxious patterns along the table. His muscles tightened, his eyes fixed downward as if the weight of what he was about to say could shatter everything between you. “I don’t… I don’t know where to start.”

You swallowed, the lump forming in your throat. You forced yourself to breathe through it. 

The thought of finally hearing him out was terrifying, but you knew you owed it to yourself. “I don’t care where you start,” you said gently.

His hand stilled in a grip that held the table’s edge a little too tightly. “I know you know I wasn’t always this w-way. This perfect person you’ve known these past few months… I’ve always wanted to be him, for you.”

His words hit you like a wave, the sincerity pulling at your heartstrings. 

“I never needed you to be perfect, Bucky,” you said, the tremble in your tone almost taking over, “I just needed you to be honest.”

He lifted his gaze then, his eyes clouded with regret, pain, and mostly— shame. “How could I?” He murmured, his voice cracking, “For so long, I thought I was protecting you by keeping parts of myself locked away. By being… distant. I thought that if I didn’t let you get too close, you’d be better off. Safer. I didn’t… I didn’t know how t-to justify this change.”

“But why?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended. “Why did you think I couldn’t handle it? Why didn’t you trust me enough to let me in?”

He flinched at your tone, his shoulders dropping as if the question had drained him. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking before answering. “Because I didn’t think I deserved you.” He looked at you then, his eyes so full of pain. “I told myself you deserved someone whole, someone who wasn’t… broken. And I thought that if I kept my distance, you would hate me. But you didn’t. Not until… not until now.”

But he was wrong. You didn’t hate him— you never could. You hated that he lied, But him? No, you could never bring yourself to hate him.

“So you pushed me away,” you said quietly, a confirmation of what you knew all along.

He nodded, lI thought I could keep my distance and pretend like it was for the best. But every time I was around you, I felt this… like I couldn’t breathe.”

There it was again. 

He couldn’t breathe around you, he admitted time and again. But not because he hated you. Not because he found your presence suffocating.

It was because you were so damn precious to him that the very thought of sharing the same air as you felt like a privilege he hadn’t earned.

“Instead of facing it,” he continued, “I built a wall around myself.”

Today, his words weren’t excuses; they were admissions. Every letter felt like it cost him a piece of himself.

“I know I hurt you,” he said, his voice breaking. “And I know I can’t undo that. But when you lost your memory… I don’t know. It felt like I had this chance to—to start over. To be the man you deserved. To show you the kind of love I’ve always wanted to give you.”

You blinked back tears. It was like piecing together the puzzle of your past, one fragment of pain at a time. “But you didn’t think to tell me?” you asked, “You didn’t think I deserved to know?”

A pang guilt crossed his face, his mouth falling into a frown. “I should have,” he admitted, “I should’ve told you everything from the start. But I was so scared that if you knew, you’d see the worst of me. That you’d hate me for it. And losing you… I couldn’t handle... couldn’t think….”

You wanted to yell at him, to tell him how much his silence had hurt you, how it had made you question everything. But you also understood, in a way that only love could explain. Alex’s little thought experiment made you connect to his fear— the paralysing fear of losing that meant so much to you. 

“I’m not going to pretend this doesn’t hurt,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears welling in your eyes. “I can’t go back to the way things were before, Bucky. No more lies, no more walls. If we’re going to try this— I need to know all of you. The good, the bad, the broken. All of it.”

His eyes widened.

A second chance—after everything he’d hidden from you? 

It seemed impossible— yet here you were, offering it to him.

He hesitated, then reached for your hand, still not believing that he deserved your touch.

When his trembling fingers brushed against yours, you didn’t pull away. Instead, you turned your hand, weaving your fingers through his.

“I promise,” he said, “I’ll be better. I’ll be honest. No more walls, no more hiding.”

His fingers tightened around yours, afraid you might still let go, afraid you might change your mind. 

But you held on, your grip firm “I don’t need you to be perfect,” you repeated. “I just need you to be honest. I need you to let me in.”

His breath faltered, and for a moment, he looked at you like you were the only thing that could keep him tethered to this earth. “I’ll let you in,” his voice broke. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that you made the right choice.”

As you sat there holding his hand, you felt the presence of something stronger than fear—hope.

“Can I kiss you?” He finally asked

Your heartbeat quickened, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his request. 

For a moment, you saw it—the life you both wanted, the way it could feel so right, so safe, in his arms. And yet, the cracks of what you’d been through together were still there. The answer that rose within you wasn’t what you’d expected, but it was clear.

“No.”

The word left your lips gently, but firmly. His thumb froze against your skin, his body tensing. The faintest flicker of hurt crossed his eyes. 

He opened his mouth to apologise, but before he could, you interrupted him.

“I’m not saying no forever,” you said, “But I want to take things slow. I need to trust that this—whatever we’re building now—isn’t just us rushing to cover up the hurt. I need to know it’s real.”

For a moment, he just looked at you. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed. A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “We’ll go as slow as you need,” he said.

He leaned back slightly, letting his fingers slip from yours.

There was no more resentment, no bitterness— only understanding. 

The two of you continued eating in silence, exchanging glances that lingered just a little longer than usual, small, subtle smiles that promised a fragile piece. Each moment felt like a step forward, like a rebuilding of trust, brick by brick, piece by piece.

When the meal was over, he stood to clear the dishes. As he walked past your chair, he paused. His fingers brushed against your shoulder, a fleeting touch. It wasn’t possessive or pleading anymore. Instead, it was a quiet reminder. I’m here. I’m staying. I’m not going to hide anymore.

And for the first time, you truly believed him. Not because he’d said the right thing, not because he was perfect. But because he was trying. 

Because he was human, and he finally saw himself that way. 

-To be continued…

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[selineram3421]

*a lot of readers loving this fic* Daaaang.

Hissy Kitty

Part 5

Part 4

Alastor X Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ deer man still trying to stay in denial, blood/gore, Italics= thoughts, partial nudity mention, Bold= time shifts, gif is reader's shadow form. ⚠

Alastor felt like he was at the end of a shotgun barrel.

He froze, his hands shaking slightly and his undead heart thumping rapidly.

Quite a daring thing to say...

Husk stared at him in slight shock and something else. Something that the deer demon couldn't decipher. The two stood still, not moving an inch, just watching who would make the first move. Almost like an old west duel.

Finally, after a long silence, one of them spoke up.

"Leave them alone."

In all honesty, the cat demon had no idea what to do about this...situation, but he knew the Radio Demon. His boss was nothing but a cruel, insane, egotistical man who wanted power and control.

"I don't give a shit about what you do to me, but I know if you hurt me, they'll hate you.", Husk said before turning to leave the radio tower. "Whatever thing you've got? It's best to get rid of it now."

And with that, the feline left.

Now Alastor was alone, just like he wanted but he couldn't get rid of the thought of what the ex Overlord had said.

He couldn't deny it any longer.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair before making his way over to his chair.

I'll avoid them like the plague... He decided.

He stayed away for two weeks.

Leaving a room whenever they stepped foot inside, staying in his room, office, or radio tower when he didn't know where they were in the hotel.

And then something snapped.

The thought was screeching in his mind, clawing at his chest, a never ending cycle of want.

He had to-

No.

Needed to tell them.

Maybe confessing would help stop that feeling.

With the last of his sanity, Alastor stepped out of his radio tower and went to search for them with the help of his shadows.

.

You were confused at first by the absence of the red dressed demon but thought nothing of it since your brother seemed happier.

Charlie had given you the new job of welcoming new guests at the front desk but well...its been very boring.

No one checks in.

Like at all. The demons that do come in ask for directions and then there's Cherri Bomb, Angel's friend who stops by for a second or two. So, you spent most of your days talking to your brother at the bar, leaving a "ring the bell for assistance" sign at the check-in counter.

You held a glass of very diluted iced catnip tea, your brother made sure to make it that way so you don't run around the hotel like last time.

"Ugh.", you hid your face in embarrassment.

I can't believe Husk planned that. That jerk! You sighed. I did enjoy the nap after though..

Then your thoughts continued until it wound up to the last conversation you had with your brother about the red dressed demon.

After telling him what happened, Husk stood up real quick and said he'd be right back. Then he came back with snacks and his poker face.

What your brother doesn't know is that you can actually read his poker face. It's very, very faint, but his ears give him away. Depending on the way that it flicks, you can tell how bad a situation is.

And his ear flicked back twice.

Which means he doesn't like the current cards in his hand.

What did he get? You wonder and sip your drink.

Some more time passes and the next time you see Alastor in the same room as you is when the King comes to visit the hotel.

Keekee is in your arms and hops out once Lucifer stops hugging Charlie.

Things take a turn after some random flapper shows up and then there are shark sinners.

"MY WINDOWS!", Nifty screeches in horror.

It goes to shit really quickly, everything is too loud, everyone is running around and trying to stay out of the shooting range of the flaming boulders, and you were overstimulated with all of the things happening at once.

"GET BEHIND THE COUNTER KIT!", Husk grabs you by the shoulders and pushes you towards the bar.

You make a face once seeing the flapper, the reason loan sharks are attacking the hotel, is hiding behind the counter.

"Oh fuck this.", you sigh and walk away.

No wonder your brother said not to come here.

Its too loud..

The banging on the door didn't stop until the Radio Demon stepped out and the screams took over.

Too loud.

"I will devour each and every one of you!"

You covered your ears in pain, wishing you brought your headset.

"ITS TOO FUCKING LOUD!", you yell out.

.

Alastor reminisces when these feelings solidified.

It was when Lucifer and Mimzy showed up at the hotel. He had his fun messing around with the King, making the short blonde feel jealous.

Then Mimzy barged in, which is not a surprise, and started chatting up with the others.

What annoyed him was when Husk mentioned the deal that he, the Radio Demon, had made. Reminding him that he too needed to stay within range so his collar didn't choke his neck.

Then after taking care of Husk, he made his way downstairs to take care of Mimzy's mess.

And that's when it happened.

As he was ripping apart some of the loan sharks, he heard screaming from inside the hotel. Turning to deal with the ones that managed to slip past him, he finds a shadow creature with multiple eyes dragging the left over sharks into the darkness.

"NO! No, no, no, no, no! AH-!", a shark screamed before the shadow tore open his stomach and ripped out his intestines.

"Kit! You gotta calm down!", Husk yelled out.

"That's your little sibling!?", Angel screeched. "What the fuck happened!?"

"It was too damn loud, that's what happened!"

The two continued to bicker as they tried to move the shadow out of the hotel.

A piece of rubble fell and Mimzy side stepped away from it. "Oops. Sorry about the mess. I'm sure the little bug can handle it."

"Mimzy.", Alastor went back to his normal size and made his way towards the hotel. "I believe it's time for you to leave. Now."

"What-? Come on, you don't mean that~", the flapper laughs. "This dump doesn't mean anything to ya! And you love taking care of me!"

"I can't have you making a mess here.", he replied. "You can stay if you want to be redeemed.", he turned to look back at the short woman. "But we both know that's not your style."

"Fine! I don't need you! Have fun at this ritzy dump and-!"

Alastor ignored the rest and walked into the hotel lobby. Husk was the only one taking care of the shadow beast, while Angel was watching whatever was going on between the two royals with the others.

"It's ok now, calm down.", the cat demon said to the shadow in the corner.

"What or who is this?", the deer demon asks and points to the shadow creature.

"Pretty sure you ain't deaf, you heard Angel yell it out.", Husk said and started..purring?

"My! I didn't know you could make such an adorable sound!", he grinned.

"Shut up!", the cat hissed quietly. "They need to calm down, loud noises only make it worse!"

"Well, why didn't you say that sooner?"

With a snap of his fingers, he teleported the three of them into his room in the greenery area.

"The only sounds in here are nature, will this do?", Alastor asked.

"Yes, this is fine.", Husk nodded before getting focused, and pulled the shadow closer. "Kit? Listen. You're ok now.", he said and started purring again.

Their shadow figure was still too large, so the radio demon decided to add in some of his white noise static, earning a look from Husker.

"It helps.", was all he said.

Slowly but surely, the shadow got smaller and smaller before going back into a familiar figure. The darkness on their form began to fade away, starting from the tips of their feet/paws.

Before the shadow fully receded, Husk held out his hand.

"Give me a blanket or somethin'."

"Whatever for?", he asked with a raised brow.

"You wanna see them naked?"

Alastor quickly took off his coat and handed it over.

In a quick motion, the cat demon covered his sibling in the red fabric and wrapped an arm around their shoulders, holding them securely as they passed out.

A few moments passed before the demon in red decided to ask his question.

"What exactly happened?"

Husk was quiet for a bit and then sighed.

"I'll let them tell you."

Now, Alastor stood in front of your hotel room.

He felt like it was as if it was his first broadcast all over again. His nerves were all over the place and his hands felt tingly.

Clearing his throat, he prepared himself and knocked on their door.

"Dear? Are you there? There is something I wish to discuss with you."

A few heartbeats later, the door opens.

"Come in."

*flops over* I'm done for now. Stay tuned.

~Seline, the person.

Part 6

Taglist@

*In comments because there are SO many*

ML I for Alastor🎙️ | HK ChL😾

[itachiiwrites]

𐙚 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄¡!

cw. 18+ flithy smut, Sub!Gojo, Dom!Reader, Enemies to lovers, gojo is a virgin and the word loser is used a lot.

AcademicRival!Satoru believed he'll have a merry time getting paired with you for your upcoming assignment, afterall, you were fun to pick on and he adored the way the vein would pop on your forehead after he says something to completely throw you off the tracks. His plan was to make you do all the work while he gets on your nerves to pass his time.

Satoru prides himself in being jack of all trades, he's the captain of the collegiate basketball team, student body president, has 4.0 GPA in his astrophysics major and is on the dean's list, his stunning good looks were to kill for and to add to those never ending positive attributes he's filthy rich, if it wasn't so obvious by his sports car's raging engine whenever he drifts it around in the campus. Gojo Satoru was a star. Gojo Satoru was game.

Admirers and people lining up for him was no big of a deal, it is the routine when you're him. You're one of the many people who find him fascinating, find him attractive (which was something you would never admit to, even if a ceiling fell over you) but still, why was he shaking his legs underneath the table while he watches the furrow of your brow focused on the screen in his dorm room? He's way too distracted to read this paper about Aesthetics and Marxism—he only took up sociology because it was a humanities requirement within his course and also because he was utterly, out of his mind bored.

Feeling the burning gaze of his abnormally blue eyes, you slam your fist onto the table and anyone who was in their right mind would be able to decipher that your expression was twisted in unfiltered annoyance, the mask of a small, pleasant smile as your veins popped on your forehead was failing miserably. "We could get a lot done if you didn't think this was a staring contest"

"Wow, really? I did think it was a staring contest with how boring all this is" He mocked knowing it would only agitate you further, his eyes shamelessly trailed over the plushness of your thighs and how the skirt fabric sat on top of it, his thoughts were digressing, wondering about the colour of your pant—

"What are you looking at, pervert..?" You point it out to break the unholy chain of his thoughts immediately, his eyes widened by being caught off-guard, evading away to focus on the papers in front of him, lasering his eyes to aim at understand at whatever 'Russian constructivism' meant, his fist gripped the pencil tighter and tighter as he felt unbelievably panicked at being caught, the trance of embarrassment breaking away along with a sharp 'snap' of the pencil.

With a faltering attempt to maintain his cockiness, Satoru looked at you. "Just looking at how much of a loser you look, even broke a pencil because it's annoying how nerdy you dress" a painful roll of his eyes followed by, but his ventures to cover the way he felt were too poor and what was the parameter? The goddamned seductive smile on your pretty lips.

Gojo Satoru was game, but he was a fucking virgin.

"Lying is not going to save your ass, I can literally see the tent in your pants, what are you..a teenager..?" The mockery in your eyes and the superiority you had over him in that very moment was enough to make him let go of his guards and feel his knees buck. You were beautiful and he was so pathetically down bad for that.

"Unlike you, I have many things to excel at..who has time for something as stupid as this anyway" You had to give some kudos for the fact that his voice remained balanced despite the throbbing erection in his pants, and you made a face with slanting pursed lips that was to show him you believed him, although anyone could tell you didn't.

"what is with that face? You think you're better than me? What do you know about sex, having your cute nose burried in those stupid books all day.." And that statement makes you raise your brow, Satoru Gojo, called you cute? This was something, this was when he knew he messed up and you had all the power.

"Why don't I show it to you then? You wanna be a loser in this one area? Come on.. you're better than that, right?" Satoru gulped, the offer was beyond tempting, all those fantasies he ran his mind for while wrapping his hand around his cock in his dark dorm room, relieving himself while yearning for the warmth for your mouth and cunt—finally had the chance to be fleshed out to life. It was tempting indeed but what about his ego?

"Sure, I bet you suck at this too" He huffed a laugh with his faux confidence, only to be miserably proved wrong within a few minutes.

"Please— fuck! Your mouth feels so good.." He breathed heavily with an almost violent rise and fall of his chest, his legs sprawled wide as he was on the couch of his room and you, his beautiful arch-nemesis was skillfully using his cock like it was your personal toy. Satoru didn't feel he was being sucked off for his pleasure, he was being sucked off to be proven of the fact that you were in control here.

He reached his trembling hands to tangle within your locks as you let a thick glob of your spit fall onto his tip with a grin, tantalisingly rubbing it on your glossed lips. "Better than your stupid fist right?" And he moans at that degradation, his eyes marbeling with glassy tears, your pride swelled more than anything.

"Ever seen tits in real life? Or are you that much of a loser to have Inoue Waka as your wallpaper.." You teased further, unbuttoning your blouse and unfastening your bra from the front to spill out your breasts and Satoru's brain simply short circuits the moment the cushiness of your tits gather around his cock and he feels the tightening sting on his abdomen, dripping out loads of his cum onto your tits, painting you like the masterpiece you were with thick ribbons of his ejaculate.

You hum, licking a long strip from his base, swirling your hot tongue around his softening, sensitive frenum as he is limp by the pleasure.

"There's no way you're this good.." He spoke, almost sounding as if something unbelievable happened, almost angry.

"Such a good boy 'Toru.." You giggle in response, kissing his abdomen and he feels pathetically, helplessly in love with you.

Gojo Satoru was game, but you were a roulette.

[daisymbin]

Oh sorry i forgot to mention the genre i meant #15 fluff with wonwoo thank youuu🥰

thank you for coming back to clarify!! 🤍

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // wonwoo's m.list

fluff prompt #15: "you're my favorite person, you know that?

the night was unusually cold, the chill creeping into the room despite the thick blanket draped over both of you. the only light came from the faint glow of the lamp on the nightstand, casting soft, golden hues over wonwoo’s face as he leaned back against the headboard.

you were curled up beside him, a book forgotten in your lap. the quiet was comfortable, filled only with the sound of his steady breathing and the occasional rustle of the blanket.

“it’s nice like this,” he said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

you turned your head slightly to look at him. “what is?”

“just… us,” he said, his gaze dropping to where your hands rested against his arm. his voice was quiet, contemplative. “being here with you. no distractions, no rush to be anywhere.”

“you’re not usually this sentimental,” you teased gently, though your heart was already starting to race.

he chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “maybe you just don’t notice it.”

“or maybe you hide it well,” you countered, a smile tugging at your lips.

“maybe,” he said, his tone light, though his eyes were serious as they flicked over to you.

you could feel the shift in the air, the way his words hung between you like something unspoken. “wonwoo,” you said, your voice soft.

“hmm?” he murmured, his gaze meeting yours.

“what’s on your mind?”

he hesitated for a moment, his fingers brushing against yours. “just thinking,” he said finally.

“about?”

he looked down, his thumb tracing lazy patterns against the back of your hand. “you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

your breath hitched, and you tilted your head to get a better look at him. “me?”

he nodded, his fingers idly tracing patterns on the sheets. “yeah. i was just thinking about how… about how much i like this. how much i like… us, & how different everything feels with you. better, i mean.”

“better?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

he looked up, meeting your gaze again. “yeah,” he said, his voice steady despite the way his heart was racing. “like, even when everything else is a mess, when i’m with you, it doesn’t feel so bad. it feels like… like i can breathe.”

your expression softened, and he saw the hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “wonwoo…”

“i mean it,” he said, his tone earnest. “you make everything better. you’re… you’re my favorite person, you know that?”

your breath hitched, and for a moment, you just stared at him, your eyes searching his face.

“your favorite person?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

he nodded, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “yeah. you’re the person i want to talk to when something good happens, and the person i want to see when things are hard. you’re the one who makes everything feel a little less heavy.”

your lips parted, but no words came out. he watched as your eyes shimmered, and his chest tightened.

“sorry,” he said quickly, pulling his hand back. “that was probably too much—”

“no,” you interrupted, your hand darting out to grab his. “it’s not too much.”

he stilled, his gaze dropping to where your fingers curled around his. “it’s not?”

you shook your head, your grip tightening slightly. “no. it’s… it’s exactly what i needed to hear.”

he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, relief washing over him. “yeah?”

you smiled, and this time, it reached your eyes. “yeah, and for the record, you’re my favorite person too.”

after a moment, he spoke again, his voice softer this time. “sometimes i wonder what i did to deserve you.”

“wonwoo…”

“i’m serious,” he said, turning his head to look at you. “you make everything better, just by being here. i don’t think i’ll ever stop being grateful for that.”

your chest felt tight, your heart swelling with an emotion you couldn’t quite put into words. “you don’t have to deserve me,” you said finally. “we’re just… us. that’s enough.”

he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “yeah,” he said softly. “it is.”

you rolled your eyes playfully, but the affection in your gaze was undeniable. “come here,” you said, tugging on his hand.

he didn’t hesitate, shifting closer until there was no space left between you. you tucked yourself against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

“thank you,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“for what?” he asked, his chin resting lightly on the top of your head.

“for being you,” you said simply.

he smiled, his heart feeling impossibly full.

[darkmatilda]

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: spencer takes care of you after a serious accident.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: hospital, rehabilitation, neck and brain injury, nud1ty

𝐚/𝐧: this is one of the potential endings of my fanfiction "with the light off" which officialy remains open up to your own interpretation. this version written to comfort all the hearts i've broken <3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 11k

Spencer felt embarrassed by how, just an hour after leaving the apartment, he already wanted to call her.

She had already occupied a near-constant presence in the back of his mind, slipping in like a shadow—elusive and playful—darting between his thoughts, flitting from one corner to another whenever he tried, even briefly, to forget about her. But now? After that night they had spent together?

Spencer knew a lot about obsession. He understood the weight of the word and was acutely aware of its gravity. Yet he couldn’t deny it—he was obsessed with her. Physical contact had always been a sensitive yet profoundly significant subject for him. He didn’t allow many people that close. 

For him, touch was the ultimate proof of closeness and trust. Intimacy bred attachment. This wasn’t about desire in its rawest form—it was something else… though he wasn’t entirely sure what. He couldn’t define the bond they shared.

He felt bored, detached from the world when she wasn’t in it, and the only thing keeping him tethered to some semblance of normality was the thought—the imagining—that at this very moment, they were breathing the same air.

He was starting to think he might be losing his mind.

He held off on calling her precisely to avoid coming across as a lunatic in her eyes. He managed to restrain himself only once he was at work, where the seriousness of his profession demanded it. In a way, though, he felt lighter. Throughout the day, he was buoyed by the thought of their upcoming meeting, the excitement it brought—and the nerves. That mixture of emotions was enough to make the entire team glance at him with curiosity.

Garcia was handing out case files, her hair recently dyed a vibrant shade of red. Rossi, instead of opening his folder like everyone else, was watching Spencer from across the table, leaning on his elbow.

“Did you win the lottery or something?” he asked, so unexpectedly that Spencer glanced around at the others, unsure who the question was meant for.

When he realized the question was directed at him, he swallowed hard. Morgan’s raised eyebrow seemed to challenge him to a duel.

“Not that I know of. Why?”

“Because you’re practically glowing, sweetheart,” Penelope chimed in with a sly smile. “Don’t think you’re getting away without telling me everything later. I’ll get it out of you, don’t you worry. But for now, let’s get started…”

They immersed themselves in the case, but a few hours later, during a brief moment of downtime, he realized he was looking for an excuse to call her. Was a simple desire to ask what she was up to reason enough?

He wondered if she was still at his apartment. He hoped she was. He knew she’d eventually have to leave to prepare for the shift she was starting later that afternoon, but he couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at him about the whole situation with her roommate’s ex-boyfriend.

Realizing he’d been staring at his phone for far too long and that he’d soon need to get back to work, he made a snap decision and called.

But no one answered.

Logically, he reasoned that mornings were probably her time to sleep. Afterward, he tried sending a text message. But by late evening, when he finally returned to his apartment, he was starting to feel genuinely worried.

The question nagged at him: could it have been about the previous night? Maybe he’d done or said something wrong, something that had put her off completely?

Slowly, he walked into the bedroom, pausing in the doorway as his eyes landed on the perfectly made bed. It definitely hadn’t looked like that when he left it.

Then his gaze fell on the slightly ajar safe, and he froze. The combination was incredibly complicated, so he must have left it open when he took out his gun and badge. Besides those items, there was one more thing inside.

He had once again fallen into the trap of keeping Dilaudid close, even though he wasn’t using it. Was it possible she found it, and that’s why she hadn’t reached out?

It wasn’t that he had lied to her about being clean. She had seen how much effort it took for him to talk about it, so she approached the subject with incredible subtlety, never asking directly, but watching him closely, carefully, yet without pressing.

If she had really found it in his safe, she might have felt betrayed. Or maybe she decided she didn’t want to get involved with someone who had such a problem. Perhaps she had seen the whole previous night as one big mistake and then decided to throw him out of her life. Spencer, though it pained him, couldn’t help but feel that he deserved it.

He sat on the bed, crushed by his own thoughts. Something didn’t sit right with the version of events he had imagined. First and foremost, she wasn’t the type of person who would turn him away because of this. Her heart ached to help others; she couldn’t ignore someone else’s troubles. Even if he had hurt her, her immense capacity for understanding would have remained intact. Empathy was imprinted on her, like a deep, unshakable mark.

Driven by a hunch, he reached for his phone to call her again. That’s when he noticed two missed calls from an unknown number, just fifteen minutes ago.

He pressed the phone to his ear, his brow furrowing in confusion as he heard the first sound on the other end… a sob?

The sound went on and on, and Spencer was too confused to utter a single word.

“Who am I talking to?” he finally asked. Unable to stop himself, he stood up. He didn’t even know what was going on or who he was talking to, but he sprang to his feet anyway. His body compelled him, his insides twisting with unpleasant spasms.

It could just as well have been some stupid prank. The problem was, it wasn’t.

“H-hey, it’s J-Jude,” a voice came from the other end. Female, shaky, and choked with sobs so severe that if he didn’t already know her name, he would never have guessed he was speaking to her roommate. He stopped pacing the room. “I-it was me…I called earlier. S-she doesn’t have any…any family, and I didn’t know…I didn’t know who to inform…I can’t handle this on my own…they just took her away again…”

It wasn’t as if the world suddenly came to a halt. It simply became both sharper and blurrier at the same time. Spencer could see that single, bright strand of hair on the pillow with perfect clarity, yet his own legs seemed out of reach. When he looked down, all he saw was darkness stretching below him. Somehow, he was still breathing.

“What are you talking about?” he asked. Later, he couldn’t explain how his voice—those first words—had sounded so composed. “W-who took her… where… and why…?

“I have no fucking idea!” she shouted, followed by a long silence during which Jude took a desperate gasp of air. “I mean, I do, I do know! They just brought her in, but... but suddenly they took her back because there was some kind of…bleeding…”

“...ding?” he blurted out, the first syllable swallowed entirely by his panic.

“No, I don’t want anything to calm me down, I am calm, can’t you tell?” Her voice grew distant, as if she’d pulled the phone away from her mouth. Then it came back, clear and pleading. “Please, come here…”

She hung up. The phone slipped from his hand as if it burned him. In a frenzy, he bent down to grab it, only to drop it again. Finally, he fell to his knees, managing at last to pick it up. As he stood, he felt as though some substance was spreading through his brain—black, toxic, and utterly destructive. Its effects left him barely tethered to reality. He could hear and see, but everything was overlaid with Jude’s words, looping in his mind like printed text on a screen.

The next thirty minutes were a blur.

How could it be logically explained that, in a state of complete detachment from the outside world, he somehow managed to figure out, based on the map of the area imprinted in his memory, which specific hospital she was in? How did his panicked, trembling hands manage to cover that distance by car without causing an accident?

The only thing he knew was that he ended up at the nearest hospital, wearing just a shirt with no outer layer. It was shocking that he even had shoes on. 

He should have been looking for the woman who had called him, demanding every bit of information she had. But somehow, instinctively, his eyes searched for someone else—a familiar face. He prayed it was all some sort of misunderstanding. Maybe he was fooling himself, hoping to spot her among the people passing by. A part of him simply refused to accept the possibility that anything could have happened to her.

Nothing had happened.

She was fine.

Her blue eyes were soaking in the surroundings, their gaze carrying that faint sparkle that always appeared at night. Maybe there was even a smile on her lips. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow himself to imagine what might have happened to her. It felt as though the universe itself should be ashamed for ever entertaining the thought of harming her.

"Are you family?" the man at reception asked. Spencer nodded. "I'm sorry, but I can't provide you with any information,"

"Just tell me, is she alive?"

"I can't…"

"Just fucking tell me…"

"They’re operating on her right now," a voice spoke from behind him. Spencer turned and blinked. Only then did he realize he was in a hospital. Before, he’d only had a goal—an urgent need to get there. The surroundings were just beginning to take shape in his mind. He had never seen this woman before, but he guessed it had to be Jude. Her face was swollen from crying, but she seemed less shaken than during their call. She had probably accepted the sedatives. "Again. First, they spent almost four hours working on her neck… they said she was stable, asleep, but then suddenly there was that bleeding… I watched them take her out of the room right in front of me…"

“Did you see her?”

Unexpectedly, she hid her face in her hands.

“I didn’t know who to call. She mentioned you a few times, and I had your number, and I didn’t know what to do…” she began explaining chaotically, as if it mattered at all. “It’s my fault, you know, all of this is my fucking fault…”

They were standing right in front of the receptionist, blocking his access to others who needed help. Spencer snapped back to the moment, pulling her a few steps aside.

“W-what did you say? That they operated on her for four hours?”

“Yes, the first time…”

So, she had been there for at least four hours. Longer, considering the time needed after surgery before visiting a patient. Pain spread across his chest. While he was wondering why she hadn’t answered his calls, coming to various conclusions, she had been fighting for her life?

He... had been at work, moving around, talking to others, living, while all of this was happening? He felt as if... as if he had betrayed her. It was absurd, even he knew that. Despite the state he was in—tragic, to be precise—he understood just how absurd that thought was. But he couldn’t stop the guilt and shame that washed over him every time he tried to imagine her on the operating table while he had been completely unaware of her condition.

“I need to sit down," Jude muttered, and after a moment, they found themselves on narrow chairs lined along the hospital walls. Spencer barely managed to force his knees to bend, his body to settle into the seat.

He was only beginning to adjust to the foreign gravity that was pressing down on him.

In his head, there was only one thought, one resolution, one desire. The only thing that could save him from losing his mind in this waiting room.

"I need to see her."

"We have to wait," Jude replied, pressing her hand to her forehead. More tears appeared in her eyes. She wasn’t just terrified, she was completely falling apart. "We... we once gave each other permission to access information about our health. You know, in case of an accident. The doctors told me everything. A neck sprain. A concussion. Two broken ribs and a broken forearm." Although her speech had been unclear earlier, when she listed the injuries, she sounded like a movie announcer.

Spencer quickly realized that these words must have been echoing in her head since they were first told to her. The same thing had been happening to him. Each word was like a blow delivered with full force, and his extensive medical knowledge wasn’t helping him avoid panic. He was too aware of the danger and too aware of the suffering her poor body must have endured.

They both squeezed their eyes shut tightly. Spencer felt as though his temples might explode. Waiting. Was there anything worse in the world than waiting? Being stuck in ignorance, teetering between uncertainty, relief, and utter despair? Feeling all of it at once?

"How did this even happen?" he asked the woman sitting next to him.

He was sure he already knew the answer to that question. She didn’t even need to say it. It was enough to see how she dropped her gaze, heavy with pain, and how tightly her jaw clenched.

“She... fell down the stairs.”

Spencer wanted to scoff at the understatement. The real version of events couldn’t pass Jude’s lips, but in some way, he considered that a blessing. If Jude had openly admitted that she had been pushed, he might have crumbled under the weight of the fury flooding him. But for now, his anger didn’t matter. Only the passing time did.

He felt as if he hadn’t taken a single breath since leaving his apartment. Leaning his head back in his seat, he endured what felt like two whole days, then glanced at his watch only to realize that exactly forty-seven seconds had passed.

Time—a relative concept. In physics and in human perception. Einstein had proven it, and so had that particular moment.

He started to fear that he might never leave the waiting room. Memories and emotions began to blur together. He formed a theory: that he had been trapped there for quite some time—weeks, perhaps. Back when another loved one had been on the operating table, and he’d been losing his mind in much the same way.

Could it be that, under the strain of this torturous waiting, he’d lost his sanity? That his brain, desperate for relief, had simply imagined everything that followed? The trip to the library that night, finding himself at her door, the string lights on the Christmas tree, the Venus flytrap, the bar, opening the door that night and seeing her on the stairwell—at once flushed from a night spent at the club and chilled from the December air?

And now that illusion had simply shattered, like a fragment of broken glass. He was back in the waiting room again, waiting, hurting too much—and yet feeling as though he had no right to. His pain was nothing compared to what she was going through. He should be doing something, anything, to make himself useful, to not succumb to the weight of his own helplessness.

When the doctor finally approached them, Spencer almost knocked over his chair in his haste to stand. The doctor, however, focused solely on Jude as he delivered the update, leaving Spencer questioning whether he even existed.

“We managed to stop the bleeding. That’s the good news,” he began, his dark eyes unreadable—at once cool and concerned, with the practiced composure characteristic of people in his profession.

“Thank God,” Jude whispered, rubbing her chest as if trying to calm the frantic beating of her heart.

Spencer, on the other hand, felt no relief. Not even a sliver.

"‘That’s good news,’" he repeated the doctor’s words, drawing the man’s gaze to him. ‘But… but is there something bad?’

That brief moment before the doctor answered felt longer than nearly the past two hours of waiting.

“Due to suspected brain swelling, we had to induce a coma.’

“What?’ Jude mouthed silently. “How… how could she be in a coma? Why? Was that necessary?’

“They needed to reduce the intracranial pressure,’ Spencer replied, the words spilling from his mouth without him even realizing he was speaking. ‘The coma prevents further damage and minimizes the brain’s oxygen consumption. But will she… how long will she…?’

“Only for a few days,’ the doctor assured him, understanding the question he couldn’t quite form. “As long as there are no further complications or additional bleeding. But I can reassure you for now: there’s no indication of that. Her condition seems stable. She was… incredibly lucky. It was a serious accident—a miracle, a sheer miracle—that she didn’t break her spine.’"

For a moment, he couldn’t utter a single word, his throat still tight, and the relief never came. He knew he wouldn’t feel it until he saw her, fully conscious and awake. Until that happened, he would grimace every time he heard the word miracle. 

"When will I be able to see her?" he asked, surprisingly calm and composed. The question was so important to him that his voice didn’t tremble even once. In fact, it was the only thing that mattered right now.

"You’ll need to wait a few hours before visiting. We have to make sure there’s no risk of a sudden deterioration in her condition. Also, only authorized individuals can visit her."

The last part of the doctor’s statement felt almost like a slap in the face.

"How many hours?" he pressed, impatience creeping into his voice. "Two? Four? Six?"

"Please, calm down," the doctor asked, making a gesture with his hand.

“Eight?”

His voice grew increasingly sharp, desperately demanding an answer. The doctor opened his mouth to respond, but Jude interrupted with a question.

"As an authorized person, can I, on behalf of the patient, allow him to visit?" she asked, catching Spencer’s gaze for a brief moment before quickly turning away. "She would want this, I know it."

The doctor shook his head in refusal, providing them with a few more details about the surgery before turning to leave. Spencer watched him leave, something in him wavering between a sigh and a snort. So they wouldn’t even let him visit her? He understood the hospital procedures and rules perfectly well, but when it came to his own case, he hated them with all his heart. They wouldn’t allow him to see someone who meant so much to him, simply because they weren’t bound by blood or a ring on his finger. A ring on his finger… maybe he should lie and say they were engaged?  Although, would it really make any difference in the eyes of the hospital staff?

Before the loose fragments in his mind began to form a plan, he noticed that Jude was staring at him. She had sat down again, pressing her back tightly against the chair's backrest. She hadn’t cried for a while now; a certain relief had settled on her face when she heard the surgery had been successful, but then the old devastation returned, stronger than ever before.

"I won’t be able to visit her," she said, her voice hollow. "Not even while she’s unconscious. And when she wakes up, look her in the eyes. Tell me, how could I do that after everything? After all of this was my fault?"

Spencer turned away and walked off.

He knew that if he didn’t, something inside him would break. He couldn’t stop the anger he felt toward Jude. From what he knew, she had repeatedly refused to report her ex-boyfriend to the police, perhaps more or less aware of the danger he posed. She had the right to do so, theoretically. But that didn’t change the fact that someone else had suffered because of her foolish decision.

In his eyes she deserved the guilt she felt.

Not knowing what to do with himself, he found a place far from her, far from anyone, where he spent the next few hours, hardly moving. Sometimes he observed the relatives of other patients in the hospital, also broken, but he had some selfish feeling that even they wouldn’t understand what he felt. He placed himself on some distant, elite orbit of suffering and felt almost embarrassed by it. 

Pain always makes sure that a person feels as lonely and misunderstood as possible in it. That is when it has the most power over them.

He kept away from the windows, the darkness outside, slowly losing its intensity, putting him into a state of shock and contemplation. Maybe time was a relative concept, but that didn’t change the fact that it existed. Somewhere far away, there was light beyond this waiting room.

For some time now, he had been occupied with a certain task. He was aware of the hours passing and how, with them, his desperation grew. He felt he would go mad if he didn’t see her. The designated time during which the patient should be ensured complete rest after surgery had ended, yet he knew they wouldn’t let him in to see her. But he had a brain for a reason, right?"

He found the room where everything that mattered to him at that moment was. A young doctor was just leaving.

"Excuse me, ma'am,” he approached her politely, trying to appear calm, though his appearance and trembling hands clearly suggested otherwise. “I need to visit this patient.”

“Are you a relative?”

“No, actually…” He knew this was a desperate move and resorting to a lie, but he didn’t care. What was morality in his situation? Just a word. He reached for the badge he had with him and cleared his throat. “I’m with the FBI. I’ve been assigned to see this particular patient; it’s a matter that cannot be delayed."

Believe it or not, but people often lost their minds at the mere mention of the FBI. Spencer suspected that such a young doctor might have some gaps in experience and not know what procedures were in place in such a situation.

The surprised woman took a half step back.

“But she’s in a coma…” she said uncertainly, turning toward the room. “Are you sure it’s this patient?”

“Absolutely. And as I said, there’s no time to waste.”

He didn’t put his badge away, still holding it raised, with a serious expression on his face, as if he were interrogating someone. It was clear she was torn with doubt, but fortunately for him, she decided to give in without consulting the decision.

Spencer almost ran into the room, unable to hold back his impatience any longer. At first, he felt as if in a dream, one where you achieve your greatest goal. However, it quickly turned into a nightmare, all because of what he saw.

Whatever he had imagined, he was not prepared for this sight. 

Especially because before he even noticed her face, the face he was so desperate to see, he first noticed everything else surrounding it. The hospital equipment, the machines and devices monitoring her vital signs. The wide orthopedic collar tight around her neck. The sterile whiteness of it all, obscuring her and making her almost disappear against its backdrop. It wasn’t until he approached the bed, his legs weak and unsteady, that he started to look at her, but again, not specifically at her, but at the injuries. The sight of swollen temples, the sunken eyes, pale and dry lips, skin like a sheet of paper. Every injury on her body caused him unimaginable pain, so intense it almost stopped him from breathing. He felt so much anger and injustice that she had to go through this that he almost wanted to fall to his knees and apologize to her, beg for forgiveness. For what? He couldn’t decide. It wasn’t a need driven by logic, it was something deep inside him.

And that’s what he did, even though there was a place beside the bed where he could sit. He slowly knelt down, his hands touching the edge of the bed, but not her body. After all, he wasn’t about to risk causing her any pain due to his lack of control. But he had such an overwhelming desire to take her hand, the one whose fingers shyly peeked out from under the cast.

"I should have gone with you," he said, after about five minutes spent in complete silence, undisturbed even by his breath, which he was holding back. "I should have. Walked you to the door and made sure you got inside safely. I’m sorry…"

He felt that with his pitiful apologies, he was disturbing her peace. She needed it to fully rest. So, he fell silent again, alternating between looking at her with furrowed brows in tender concern and resting his forehead against the edge of the bed whenever the sight became too painful. While before, time seemed to crawl at the slowest possible pace, now it was racing forward wildly.

In his perception, barely a minute had passed when someone’s presence appeared behind him. He turned over his shoulder, noticing the young nurse who had let him in, and it took him a long time before he even realized it. After all, he had lied to her, saying it was some professional matter, yet she had found him kneeling by the hospital bed.

He quickly got to his feet, nervously rubbing his face.

“For the patient’s well-being, no visits should last longer than twenty minutes,” the woman said surprisingly gently, leaning slightly against the door with her shoulder. An unidentified expression lingered in her eyes, making them seem...warm.

He didn’t answer, just nodded. He no longer felt the need to play that little charade that had helped him get inside. He allowed himself one last long moment, looking at her face, peaceful in sleep. He passed the doctor in the doorway, feeling her eyes turn to him, and he did the same, out of curiosity. She smiled, sadly and with compassion.

"This had nothing to do with any FBI assignment, right?”

Her understanding seemed almost touching. However, Spencer, caught in the moment, quickly withdrew, once again making his way down the hospital corridors, now completely unsure of what to do with himself. He leaned against one of the walls, slowly feeling the fatigue from the entire night spent waiting to see her. He found his phone in his pocket, realized it was already morning, and that… Hotch had called him.

It was a quick collision with the outside world. He called back, as nothing else came to mind that he could focus on.

"Reid," the serious voice of his boss came through on the other end. "Why aren’t you at work, and why aren’t you answering?"

He needed to take a breath before he could respond.

"Sorry, Hotch," he said, trying not to sound weak, but that’s exactly how he sounded. Weak, a little pitiful, and on the verge of exhaustion. "Something... something really important happened, and... I... I won’t be able to come in today..."

Spencer realized he had no idea how to explain himself in this situation.

"I can’t remember the last day you were even late. What happened?" He didn’t answer. "Where are you?" Silence. "Spencer."

"It’s... a personal matter."

There was a brief silence from his boss, and Spencer could almost imagine how he furrowed his dark brows in confusion.

"I understand." His voice was tense, but not with disapproval, which surprised Spencer. More with... concern. Had he managed to read the seriousness of the situation just from his voice? Probably, after all, he was the best profiler Spencer knew. "You’ll need to explain later, but for now... take care of yourself. Do you need any help?”

He assured him insincerely that everything was fine and found an empty chair to sit in, hunched over. A strong pressure formed in his head, amplified by the helplessness and uncertainty about what he should do next. She was in a coma, and according to the doctor, she would be in it for the next few days. And what was he supposed to do during that time? He felt that physically, he could spend another hundred hours on that specific chair. Occasionally stretching his legs. It was his plan, one that seemed more real with every passing minute. At least, until a figure cast its shadow over him.

"Reid," a familiar voice spoke.

He looked up, surprised, at Morgan. His mouth was slightly open in confusion, his forehead deeply furrowed.

"What are you doing here?"

"How... how did you know where I was?" That was the first thing that came to his mind.

"Penelope. How she knew, I have no idea, but I’m starting to suspect that her joke about having us all chipped wasn’t really a joke. But anyway, what’s going on? Hotch told me you called, and you sounded... unsettling."

His friend was watching him closely. His wrinkled clothes, his tired face.

"So... Hotch sent you to find me?"

"Reid, you’re our friend. Did you really think we wouldn’t be worried about you?"

Spencer lowered his head, listening to his words. Derek was silent for a moment, his hands resting on his hips, his tense face scanning the surroundings. After a while, he focused his gaze back on him.

"Who is the person you’re visiting?"

He hesitated before answering, not because he didn’t want to share the information, but because he wasn’t sure how to refer to her. What should he call her? After all, it wasn’t like they were in an official relationship, and the word friend seemed to leave something unsaid.

“Someone... someone very important to me. She had an accident. She has... a cervical spine injury, and the doctors, suspecting brain swelling, decided to put her into a coma for a while.”

Morgan's eyes widened.

“Damn, Reid. I’m so... I’m so sorry.”

He sat down on the empty chair beside him, his face still showing shock. Exhausted, Spencer simply rested his head on his knees, no longer able to keep his posture straight. He felt drained, yet at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to leave—couldn’t leave her…

Morgan’s hand fell onto his back, and finally, then sighed.

“Come here, man.”

With a firm pull, he drew him into an embrace.

Spencer found it hard to admit, even to himself, how much he needed this. No words left their mouths for a long while; only that brotherly, supportive embrace remained between them.

“Have you seen her?” Morgan asked after a while.

He confirmed, but didn’t reveal the circumstances. His friend paused for a moment, as if he wanted to say something but hesitated.

“Okay, listen to me. You need to get back to yourself.”

Spencer scoffed and shook his head, ready to argue.

“Let me finish. I know you don’t want to leave her right now, but with all due respect, you look like death. You need to eat and get some sleep.”

“I can’t,” Spencer replied firmly.

“You’re going to collapse soon. You said she’ll be in a coma for a few days. You won’t make it sitting here, think realistically. No one’s asking you to go back to work, you just need to rest.” He looked at him seriously, knowing how hard it would be to convince him. Finally, he sighed once more. “Do it for her, alright? Do you really think she’d want you to wear yourself out like this?”

He had no ready answer for that. Well, he did, but it sounded like no, she wouldn’t want that.

“I’ll take you home. For God’s sake, you came here without even a coat?”

It's a strange feeling to let someone take care of you. Completely. Derek not only drove him to his apartment but also came inside with him. There was no emotional discussion between them, which he found to be a relief. Silent support, he thought.

His relationship with the other team members had been tested after Emily's death—or at least, that's what he had thought up until now. He had begun isolating himself, not wanting to intrude on their grief or burden them with his own problems. But in reality—something he hadn’t seen until now—it had been the opposite. It strengthened their bond.

The next few days revolved mainly around hospital visits. Somehow, he had managed to gain visiting rights, and the time spent by her side filled him with a certain sense of calm. He could see how stable her vital signs were, and he clung to the doctors’ reassurances that she would regain consciousness in just a few days.

He once read a series of articles and interviews with people who had been in comas. Their accounts sometimes contradicted medical facts and often included embellishments, but a significant number of them mentioned remembering the voices of loved ones and certain sounds.

He didn’t want her to remember only the sounds of medical equipment from this period. But he also wasn’t sure what he could talk to her about. Would she want to hear about the overly salted carbonara that Garcia had forced an entire pot of on him? Or about the abstract mural being painted across from his apartment—something he was sure she would have liked?

In the end, he decided to read to her, though choosing what to read proved challenging. Sleeping Beauty seemed too ironic, even though she would probably laugh about it later. She had once told him Girl, Interrupted was her favorite book, but its hospital setting made him suspect she might prefer something that let her escape this place, even if only in her imagination. The Silence of the Lambs referenced one of their past conversations, but if a doctor overheard him reading it to her, he would surely be banned from visiting altogether.

“All right,” he began one day, sitting down in the chair by her bed. “I know you’re not a big fan of fantasy. And yes, you’ll have every right to call me out on this when you wake up. But still, I hope you’ll like it.”

Arabian Nights was a collection of tales and stories originating from the Middle East, India, and Persia. Somehow, he assumed that the mysterious, often nocturnal atmosphere might resonate with her, even soothe her. After all, night had always been her favorite time of day—the backdrop to so much of her life.

That day, as he was about to leave, he leaned slightly over her bed, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"Tomorrow, I'll read you a romance, how does that sound? But I’ll have to go to the bookstore because, despite your beliefs, I don’t have any in my collection. I wish I’d had more time to get to know your reading preferences better."

During none of his previous visits had he touched her, afraid it might disturb her peace in some negative way. Besides... in the state she was in, she looked so fragile and delicate that he feared even the slightest touch could hurt her. But that time, he simply couldn’t hold back. After a long internal struggle, he placed a very brief kiss on her forehead.

Spencer couldn’t keep his promise. While he did buy a romance novel recommended to him with enthusiasm by a young bookstore clerk, he never had the chance to read it to her.

The next day, he received a message. 

She had woken up. 

*

You didn’t remember much.

Only fragmented scraps. The memories began with a brief moment of complete physical helplessness, a terrible pain in your neck, and a series of flashing lights mingling with raised voices—even shouting. Then came silence, vile and terrifying.

But that wasn’t the end. Something came after the silence.

Softly spoken stories. For some reason, they were comforting. In your mind, only a few blurred images remained—no clear events or words. What you remembered most was that soothing, calm voice. It felt like an embrace, like warm bedding, the first rays of cosmic light piercing through clouds, or the gentle chill of evening air.

It was… beautiful. But it couldn’t last forever. After an indeterminate amount of time, your body decided to reject that comfort and tried to open its eyes. It was an excruciating effort. You sighed with the strain. The first colors and surreal shapes began to appear before you. Slowly, you started to become aware of your existence, yet at the same time, you felt suspended somewhere outside your body and mind—alone and terrified.

The sensations were both faint and overwhelmingly intense, making you want to hide, to somehow cut yourself off from them. Yet you were equally afraid to close your eyes again. You muttered things that made no sense. You remained in this panicked state until two tiny brown points hovered above you, widening with concern. Only then were you able to calm down—at least enough to stop straining your body with attempts to move. Attempts, because your body seemed entirely unwilling to follow your commands.

The fear buried itself deep within you, drilling into your chest. At first, it suffocated you, but eventually, it began to weaken and fade.

This was how the first hours after waking from the coma unfolded.

Weakness, disorientation, mumbling, pain, discomfort, and light sensitivity.

It took a long time before you regained awareness of being in a hospital. Even more time passed before you remembered why. And then, your own condition and state.

You were so incredibly weak that it filled you with disgust, terrified by how much effort even the smallest movement required—like the twitch of a finger or the blink of an eye. Frustrated by it all, you cried, and he cried too. But his tears were born of relief and joy.

Those two specific emotions reached you the latest—only after they transferred you to a different ward, and your thoughts began to clear. Relief and joy. Hand in hand with fear and anxiety. 

It felt so unreal, yet it was real—real like nothing else, and it held you tightly, exactly the way you needed it to.

*

Spencer was aware that her awakening was just another step in a very long journey.

His medical knowledge, modestly speaking, was fairly extensive, and he understood the gravity of the injuries she had sustained. Their first meeting after she had opened her eyes for the first time was nothing like a scene from a movie. She was confused, still drowsy, and as she slowly started to comprehend everything, she was primarily terrified. Her body, after the time spent in the coma, though brief, was extremely weak, and every little movement exhausted her as though she had just run a marathon.

The fear on her face pierced his chest.

He had the impression that none of the words he spoke, almost whispered in an attempt to calm her, were having any effect.

"I... I can't move," she stammered as one of the first things she said. Her eyes intensely focused on his face, searching for safety in it, and he feared he wouldn't be able to provide it for her.

"It's just temporary," he reassured her gently, leaning over her bed and trying to smile, but it came out uncertain, he was too worried about her condition. "The doctors say so, and that's the truth. Your body is just very weak right now."

"Will... will it be like this forever?"

"No, no, it will pass. I promise, it will pass," he nodded fervently. She hesitated and took a breath, as though discovering an entirely new action. But as soon as she did, out of fear, it became fast and irregular. He was terrified that his touch might cause her pain, but he didn't know what else he could do to help her. Gently, as gently as he could, he placed his hand on her cheek, barely grazing it with his thumb. "You'll feel better soon. Really, it won’t be long now. For now... just don’t overexert yourself, please, breathe."

At first, she flinched. He wanted to withdraw his hand as quickly as possible, but then he felt her press her face against it, almost nuzzling into it. A shy tear danced in one of her eyes, barely noticeable.

"It’s good to see you," she said after a brief silence, a soft sigh escaping her lips—almost like a laugh, though it didn’t quite make it. Her breath was still shallow and uneven, but with each passing moment, it seemed to steady as he held her close.

And in that moment, seeing her like that, feeling her presence so close, a smile spread across his face—a smile so genuine, so long-awaited—and with it came the tears he’d been holding back for what felt like forever.

"I feel the same," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You have no idea how much."

*

The orthopedic collar pissed you off like nothing else.

It wasn’t even the discomfort that bothered you, it was just... the collar was such a painful reminder of your condition, a testament to what you had been through. And you were supposed to wear it for another six to eight weeks.

Two weeks after waking from the coma, preparations for leaving the hospital were beginning. The risk of brain swelling had subsided, the injuries were healing, and the concussion still made its presence known, but the pain was no longer as intense. You could even have a normal conversation, which you seized almost immediately, striking up a chat with the teenage girl in the bed next to you, her sad expression tugging at your heart.

Few people visited you; you preferred that the two most important ones could spend as much time with you as possible, rather than inviting coworkers or acquaintances you hadn’t spoken to in months. The two most important people.

Spencer had been with you since the moment you woke up, and as the doctor confessed to you with a small smile, he had also stayed by your side while you were in a coma. You were in shock. Not because he had done it—it made perfect sense, given his caring nature. The shock came from the simple fact that one person could care so deeply about another, about you.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that the moments when he visited you became your favorite part of the entire day. And not just because they revolved around checking your condition, tests, and the first, incredibly light rehabilitation exercises. You simply found yourself waiting for the moment he would appear in that doorway again, holding his coat in hand, smiling.

"Hello, handsome stranger," you greeted him one day, the first day you were starting to feel better.

 Spencer stopped at the sound of that term, tilting his head with an even wider smile.

 "How else did I used to call you?" you mused aloud. "Ah, I used to call you Mr. Mysterious. But I suppose that's no longer fitting, you smile too much to seem mysterious."

 "Because I have a reason," he replied, stopping beside your bed and glancing at the flowers placed there, the ones that had greeted you when you woke up that day. "But in that case, 'Handsome stranger' doesn’t fit either, since you know me now."

"But you are handsome. Half of it fits, so I have the right to call you that. Who... who sent me these flowers?"

"Better question would be, who didn’t send you those?" he muttered, referring to their large number. You could only admire them—the beautiful, colorful arrangements—but you hadn’t had the chance to read the notes and messages attached. Spencer glanced at one of them, his smile fading, though not in a bad way... somehow, the expression that appeared on his face was even more pleasing than his smile. "This... this one’s from my team."

You were simply speechless.

 "They... they even know I exist?"

 "Of course they do, how could they not?" Spencer paused for a moment, looking at you thoughtfully. "They... they were with me the whole time you were in a coma. They helped me keep my head together."

 "Don’t exaggerate," you tried to dispel the sudden serious mood. You didn’t want to delude yourself into thinking he had been that worried about you during that time. 

 "It’s not an exaggeration," he replied briefly and seriously, his face almost motionless.

For a moment, you fell silent, your hands resting on the blanket in front of you.

 "Sorry, Spencer. I just realized I’ve never thanked you for this..."

"What?" he asked, surprised, his brows furrowing. "This isn’t something you have to thank me for..."

"But I feel like I have to. This... this isn’t some small, silly favor. You really did so much for me... I still don’t fully understand why..."

 "You don’t understand why?"

"Yeah," you sighed uncertainly, not sure how to put it into words. "Don’t get me wrong... I’m so grateful to you, it’s just... look at it this way. We didn’t know each other that long, we saw each other rarely. We slept together once. It’s not like you were…obligated to help me."

"I didn’t have to be obligated to do it," he said after a moment of hesitation, circling your bed and sitting on the edge, just barely touching it. "And I didn’t have to know you for years. I just wanted to do it because of how much I cared about you. And if that explanation doesn’t convince you... then..." He swallowed hard. "Remember, you were there for me during one of the worst moments of my life."

“It’s not the same...”

 “Oh, but it is. For me, it is. But I don’t want you to think that I was there for you because I felt like I owed you something. Or that I had to... I don’t know... repay you in some way. That’s not it at all.”

You didn’t answer, something tight gripped your throat. You just tilted your head, overwhelmed with emotion, speechless. The only thing you truly wanted to do was stretch out your arms and drape them around his neck, resting your chin on his shoulder. Spencer sighed, surprised and tense. It wasn’t until a brief moment passed that his hands gently touched your back.

“How much longer are you going to act like I’m made of glass?” you asked.

You knew his caution was justified, but Jesus. You just really wanted to hug him properly.

“Probably forever,” he replied, to which you rolled your eyes.

He was the one to break the hug, but in compensation, he quickly kissed the top of your head. You leaned back against the bed, feeling a pleasant sensation in your stomach. Spencer returned to the flowers to tell you who had sent them all.

“So these are from my team,” he picked up the lost thread, pointing to the arrangement of white and pink carnations. He chuckled. “And I’m pretty sure Penelope picked them out, not just because her name is listed first. White represents perseverance and strength. Pink stands for admiration and respect.”

“That’s really thoughtful. And beautiful. I’ll have to thank them. And these tulips?”

Spencer took the note attached to the mentioned flowers between his fingers.

“From... Jerry.”

“What? My husband sent me flowers?”

 “What?” He jerked his head up in surprise.

You laughed so hard at the look on his face that it made you wince in your ribs.

 “I’m fucking kidding, you fool,” you replied, clutching your side with a groan. “Jerry is the librarian. You should know him. He once asked me what flowers he should buy for his wife, and I suggested yellow tulips. By the way, it's so nice of him”.

You said it affectionately, but it sounded incredibly weak. Along with the pain in your ribs, a headache joined in, and suddenly all the energy you'd had earlier evaporated.

“What's happening? Should I call a doctor?”

“No,” you shook your head in refusal. “I just need to lie down for a moment. Come here.”

Spencer followed your request and sat beside your bed, his body a little stiff, as if in guilt.

"I'm sorry I made you laugh."

"That's probably the strangest thing you could apologize for," you muttered, lying down in the position that was best for your neck, one you almost hated as much as the orthopedic collar. "Well, I guess I could come up with something stranger. Sorry I left that million dollars in your nightstand. It won't happen again."

"I'm not sure if this kind of chatter is particularly good for your condition."

"It helps me mentally, and that's what matters most. Besides, stop complaining."

"How could I possibly dare?"

He fell silent, simply watching you with quiet concern. You closed your eyes for a moment, unsure if you might accidentally drift off. After spending a week in a coma, your sleep routine had become completely erratic. You slept through the nights, mostly because there was little else to do, and you didn’t want to disturb the other patients in the ward. During the day, Spencer would visit, and you wanted to be as rested as possible when he was around.

When he wasn’t there, you sometimes napped during the day as well. According to the doctors, it was one of the best things you could do for your recovery—sleep and rest as much as your body needed.

"Is something bothering you?" he asked.

You hesitated for a long moment, because yes, something was weighing heavily on your mind. Had he guessed, or had he read it on your face?

“It’s just…” you began with a sigh. “You know Jude barely visits me? I mean, she shows up every day, but… she’s so tense and distant when she’s here. She doesn’t say much, and she won’t look me in the eyes.”

"She’s blaming herself," Spencer said softly.

“God, that’s so stupid,” you muttered.

You had a strange relationship with the accident. You thought about it as little as possible, keeping it at arm’s length. You knew Richard had been arrested, but you didn’t want to know the details of his sentencing. In no way did you see any of it as Jude’s fault, and it hurt you deeply to think that she did.

You spent a quiet moment together before Spencer leaned over you again, intending to kiss your forehead.

“I’m sorry, but I’ll have to go now,” he said, to which you nodded in understanding.

But then you shifted your head, pulling back just enough to stop him from brushing his lips against your forehead. He looked at you, puzzled, since you’d never minded it before.

This time, though, you wanted him to kiss you on the lips.

He kissed you slowly. You had almost forgotten how he tasted.

After that, you didn’t bother opening your eyes again. You let yourself imagine that he wasn’t leaving at all, and with that comforting thought, you drifted off to sleep.

*

Spencer had felt strange since the morning.

 Energized and excited. In the absolute best possible way.

That day, he could finally take her home. Well, to his apartment. She needed someone to take care of her, and he felt honored to be that person.

The day before, he had made a very important, yet difficult decision. He invited JJ over and confessed everything to her—about the past few weeks and his struggles with relapsing into addiction. He needed to rid himself of that burden. Besides, he had promised himself that as long as she was living with him, not even the smallest dose of Dilaudid would find its way inside. Never again.

In his worst moments, he imagined that his friend would react with disgust—pure, painful disgust—and push him away. Instead, her eyes filled with something strange the moment he began to speak about how he had felt after Emily's death. Over and over, she whispered apologies, as though she were the one responsible for it.

He still missed Emily, of course, and he knew he would always miss her. That was just the way of things—people left, and it was up to you to decide whether you would remember them with heartbreaking despair or with a wistful sigh. In fact, these were merely two ends of the same spectrum, and it was very easy to get stuck at the beginning, unable to move forward.

She was surprisingly quiet in the car and seemed depressed. Actually, it was hard not to blame her. She had spent a long time in the hospital, gotten used to that routine, and the change made her feel lost. Sitting in the passenger seat, she kept her gaze fixed ahead, but not on the road. She couldn’t see where they were headed, which made it difficult for Spencer to tell her something… at least important.

 When they stopped, she furrowed her brow in surprise.

 “Why are we here?”

They were parked under his apartment, and she had been under the impression they were heading to her place.

 “Sorry, I should’ve told you earlier, I really apologize,” Spencer blurted out in one breath, chaotically. “I absolutely realize that this is like putting you in a situation you didn’t expect, but… but when you were in the hospital, Jude found herself a new roommate. She didn’t really know how to tell you, but she had to do it because she couldn’t afford the rent on her own.”

For a long moment, she stared at him in silence, her face a mixture of shock, followed by understanding. She took a deep breath.

 “Okay,” she muttered. “I understand her, I just… I don’t understand why she didn’t tell me this herself.”

Their relationship still remained deeply complicated, put to the test by guilt. Spencer couldn’t say much about it. It was something between the two of them, and he hardly knew Jude at all.

 “I’m also sorry for asking you this so late,” he continued after a moment. “But… you can’t live alone, you know that. Someone… someone needs to be with you over the next few weeks and… I’m willing to be that person.”

Her lips remained slightly parted for a moment.

“You want… no, wait, you want me to move in with you?” It was clearly a rhetorical question, because before he could answer, she started shaking her head. “Spencer, I can’t. I can’t be that burden for you.”

“A burden? You’re not…”

“But I will be. In the next few weeks, I definitely will be.”

He took his hands off the steering wheel, placing them loosely on his knees.

“Can you… can you look at me for a moment?” he asked.

It took a moment before she hesitantly met his gaze. Her eyes were filled with embarrassed tears, tears full of unjust shame. Seeing this, pain spread through his chest.

“If the accident hadn’t happened, would you want to live with me?”

 Her lips remained pressed together, and she sighed.

 “It’s a big decision. Aside from the fact that if it weren’t for the accident, I wouldn’t even have to consider this option…”

“I just want to know if you would want to. Don’t think of it as an option, just as… a completely normal, life decision. Do you think you’d be able to handle having me around every day?”

She couldn’t help it, and her lips curled into a slight smile.

“We could try,” she finally replied.

Spencer straightened his arms.

“In that case, let’s go inside.”

 “No, wait, it’s not that simple! My opinion shouldn’t matter; it’s you who needs to think about whether you want this…”

 “I do.”

She snorted, resigned, not knowing what else to say.

“I can’t even tie my own shoes,” she tried one last time.

“I’ll gladly do it for you. What’s more, I know all kinds of knots. Simple, sailor’s, Chinese…”

“Spencer Reid, you’re impossible.”

For the rest of the day, she tried every possible way to talk him out of his decision. But when she finally accepted it, she struggled to accept his help with tasks she couldn’t do on her own.

 It wasn’t until later that he realized how much she had been pretending in the hospital. He had only seen her for a fraction of her day, and she seemed so positive then. But this temporary disability had really taken a toll on her mentally. He could repeat and assure her, completely sincerely, that she wasn’t a burden to him, but deep down, she still believed otherwise.

So, when two days later, she timidly appeared in the bedroom doorway with the question of whether he could help her wash her hair, Spencer felt like he had won the lottery.

“Sure,” he agreed, probably a bit too enthusiastically, jumping to his feet so quickly that he almost tripped.

She pretended not to notice.

In the bathroom, he slowly helped her pull the shirt over her head, careful not to catch it on the collar still around her neck or accidentally cause her any pain. 

“Be careful not to tilt your head too much, okay?” he asked, wetting her hair with the showerhead. She closed her eyes when a few drops of water splashed onto them. “Sorry!”

“For god's sake, Spencer, you're doing it more carefully than I would have done myself.”

It was true; he was acting as if he were performing some task at work that required absolute precision. He shrugged, massaging the strawberry shampoo into her hair. Foam quickly appeared, smelling sweet.

Suddenly, her hands tightened around the front of his shirt.

“Sorry,” she whispered, loosening her grip. “I got a little dizzy.”

Spencer immediately pressed his hands, still covered in shampoo, to her waist, afraid she might fall. He stared at her face for a long moment, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

And just then, her body suddenly went limp, falling forward.

Terrified, he let out a strangled cry.

“Hold on, please, don’t fall!” he kept repeating, doing everything he could to keep her upright.

Her hands hung limply on his shoulders, the foam and water soaking into his shirt, but he didn’t care at all.

“I’m right here, hold on to me as much as you can. C-c-can you hear me at all?”

He wondered whether it would be better to stand her up or lay her down while he could get to the phone and call an ambulance, when suddenly her weak touch grew stronger, and she let out a soft groan.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologizing. I’m still holding you, can you hear me?”

His heart was pounding incredibly fast as she gently pulled her head away from his chest. He, of course, didn’t let her stand on her own, constantly supporting her body, protecting her from a fall that could be disastrous.

Together, they left the shower cabin, her hair still covered in foam.

“Are you aware that this is how it’s going to look now?” she asked seriously.

Completely unfazed, he wiped the foam from her forehead, which was dangerously close to her eyes.

“I’d rather have you lose consciousness in my bathroom, right next to me, than risk… I don’t know, cracking your head open.”

For a moment, she was silent, the color beginning to return to her pale face, her gaze becoming more alert. He had a strange feeling that she was about to start crying, and since he really didn’t want that, he pulled her close again, in his usual protective gesture. Everything around them smelled of strawberries.

“Do you really have to be this good?”

Spencer snorted.

“I’m afraid it’s just my curse.”

*

“Are these people really arguing about whether a cucumber is a fruit or a vegetable?”

Sitting on the couch, you jumped when a voice spoke right behind you. At the last second, you caught your laptop before it slipped off your lap. You had been reading some absurd discussion on an online forum you stumbled upon completely by accident. And yes, these users were indeed arguing about whether a cucumber is a fruit or a vegetable.

“Damn it, Spencer!” you shouted, putting your hand over your heart, which was pounding in an agitated rhythm. You looked at your boyfriend with a scowl. “You almost gave me a heart attack. How is it possible I didn’t hear you come in?”

He shrugged. Leaning his elbows on the back of the couch, the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt revealed the skin of his forearms. In that position, he had a perfect view of the screen on your laptop. He had just returned from work, a rainy July evening, his hair slightly damp.

“I wasn’t sneaking around. You must’ve just been lost in thought. Want to tell me what’s occupying that beautiful mind of yours?” He leaned in to place a kiss on your temple.

“Beautiful mind, huh?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Just a few days ago, you told me that if a 19th-century priest heard even one thought from my head, he’d go into anaphylactic shock. Whatever that was supposed to mean.”

"In a big simplification, what I meant is that even though I love you, sometimes your way of thinking scares me."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"By the way, I bought land for Alexander."

Alexander was your new flycatcher, which had grown so much that it completely prevented the other flowers on the windowsill from growing. Due to its conqueror tendencies, you decided to name it after one of them.

"Do you want to repot it into a new pot now...?"

"No. Now you need to come to me."

You set the laptop aside and waited for him to take a seat on the couch. Before fully snuggling into him, you untied and removed the tie from his neck, then unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, just the way you liked.

You sighed almost instantly; his body was more comfortable than a pillow. Warm, with your favorite scent. You rested your head on his chest as his fingers gently combed through your hair.

In the first few weeks after you were discharged from the hospital, you couldn’t even sleep in the same bed. There was a risk that, in his sleep, he might accidentally bump into your neck and cause damage. Spencer enforced that rule strictly, as he did with every precaution related to your health.

Six months had passed since the accident, and for the past four months, you hadn’t worn a neck brace or needed help with daily tasks. But that didn’t change the fact that, sometimes, when you showered together, he would wash your hair just like he used to. Anyway, you were still attending rehabilitation and would need to for a long time, but despite that, you felt like you had fully returned to normal life.

You lifted yourself slightly to look at his face.

"I was walking to the bar today," you began.

You’d been considering going back to work for a while now, and the doctors had assured you there was no reason you couldn’t. You wanted something to occupy your hands and craved the sense of purpose that came with a task. You’d mentioned it to Spencer long ago, so he didn’t seem surprised when you brought it up.

"And? Will they take you back?"

"No. I mean, it’s not that they don’t want to, I just didn’t get there. That’s why I said I was walking and not that I went to a bar. Are you following?"

"I'm trying."

"So, listen to this. I took the subway and got off at that station near the room I used to rent."

The landlord had asked for the keys back shortly after your accident. Your arrangement had been that, in exchange for using the space, you cleaned it daily. Of course, you hadn’t been able to keep up with that anymore.

"...And I don't know, I was overwhelmed by this strange feeling, like I wanted to go back to it. Helping people."

"You help people all the time," Spencer reminded you. "All our neighbors come to you to vent about everything happening in their lives."

"That's true, but I mean, you know, professional help," you said, taking a deeper breath. You couldn't decide whether you were more excited or nervous about the decision. "I've been thinking about going back to uni, Spencer."

He straightened up, almost causing you to slide off his chest. Filled with tension, you watched his reaction closely. You’d spent the entire day wondering what he might say. Would he share your enthusiasm and support your plans, or would he try to talk you out of it, reasoning that you’d dropped out of school once and might not manage it again?

These thoughts were incredibly silly. Spencer—knowledge-obsessed, ever-curious Spencer—would never say something like that.

Instead, he pulled you into a tight embrace, whispering how incredible the idea was. You melted into it completely, feeling more elated than ever and unable to stop thinking about the crazy chain of cause and effect that had led to this specific moment, this particular relationship, and above all, this exact happiness. 

do you accept this overly sweet ending as my apology? :> tagging: @nightfullofparadox @lillaberry @fortheloveofgubler @opheliahotchner @cowboy1ikereid @penelopegarciaismygf

sorry if i forgot about someone!

[yagirlwrites]

Make Me Proud | (Sub!Rafe)

Pairing: sub!Rafe x domme!Reader

Synopsys: Rafe and Reader finally get to release their pent up tension from the Halloween party. He wants to earn his prize so they explore a new way of pleasure together.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), anal play (m receiving), oral (f receiving), fluff

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: Hii!!! I know it took me a while but it's finally finished! I hope you enjoy this smutty goodnes and that it was worth the wait! Let me know what you think! I'm excited for them exploring more ways to give/receive pleasure!

Series Masterlist

My work is my own; it's not to be copied, transferred or translated. Reblogs, comments, feedback are always welcome and appreciated❤️

Happy reading🥰

Make Me Proud

The harsh rays of sun pricked at his eyelids forcing him to awaken against his will, letting out a pained groan. Blinking his eyes open he slowly begun to gather his bearings and the first thing he noticed was the emptiness of the bed next to him.

There was a low pang in his chest at her absence. The second thing he noticed was the pounding in his head, no doubt attributed to the hangover bound to ruin his day. He made such a huge mistake downing all those shots last night. As the memories started flooding back he became aware of just how much of a fool he'd made of himself. In front of her, to make shit ten times worse. Just as he was beginning to wonder if his behavior caused her to leave, the door slowly opened and he watched her tiptoe inside, unaware of his inner turmoil.

Once her eyes landed on his sprawled out figure she realized he was finally awake. Had she been up for several hours, bored out of her mind but not wanting to wake him? Maybe. Did she sneak into the kitchen to make them both a cup of coffee when she finally got sick of laying motionless next to him? Perhaps.

"Morning, sunshine." She smirked at his response, an unamused grunt. He was definitely feeling the aftermath of those drinks. She felt kinda bad for him but it was his own fault he was in this state.

"What time is it?" His morning voice always got her tummy fluttering and today was no different. The ways in which this man drove her insane were unfathomable to her.

"Nine. I thought you'd sleep longer. The house is still dead." She made her way back to bed, giving him a generous view of her bare thighs as she shuffled in next to him. He barely noticed the coffee cup right in front of his face, too distracted by how soft and sexy her legs looked and how she still smelled so damn good even after a long night.

"Rafe..." her voice sounded half amused half exasperated, causing him to finally snap his attention back to her face and see the amused expression she bore. He blushed at being caught so blatantly ogling her, but he didn't try to play it off. There was no need to anyway, she knew just how attracted he was to her.

He took the cup with a small thank you, forcing himself into a somewhat upright position and downing half of it in one go. She scoffed out a laugh and rolled over to the bedside table to grab him a bottle of water she put there last night. Once she turned back she caught him staring at her ass, which had peeked out from under his shirt she was wearing. Raising her eyebrow at catching him, again, in under 2 minutes, he paid her back with a sheepish smile.

Those damn dimples always got to her. She was a sucker like that. He didn't need to know how quickly she got weak for him though, so she bit back her smile and decided to keep on a face of neutrality, knowing it drove him crazy when he couldn't tell what mood she was in.

"Are you hungry?" She casually posed the question while scrolling on her phone and he wished she'd just look at him instead. Pathetic. But hey, he was accepting it. She drove him insane every single day and he liked it.

"A little... The burger helped, though. Thanks." He gave her a cute smile almost causing her to break her act, but she perservered. He was just too fun to mess with, she couldn't help herself.

"You're welcome." She went back to her phone and he pouted. The throbbing in his head was making him more impatient than usual so he snapped and forced her into a bear hug, almost knocking the wind out of her.

"Rafe!" He laughed into her skin, enjoying the sound of her carefree giggle more than he thought possible.

"Get off!" Her words had no real bite to them, so he just pulled away slightly, just to look at her face.

"Thank you for taking care of me. And I'm sorry for getting drunk." He kissed her sweetly, almost making her lose her head completely. These moments of gentle affection always had both of their heads spiraling.

"You're lucky you're cute.." she sighed out a labourious breath and he laughed at the dramatics.

"I'm very lucky." He was looking at her with the most lovesick expression, she couldn't handle it. She had to break the moment before it broke her.

"Indeed. And quite desperate, based on all the begging you were doing last night." She was kinda mean for bringing that up. He was confused for all of 5 seconds before he realized what begging she was referring to. Once he did, his skin turned bright pink and the temperature of his body rose.

He had begged her to let him go down on her like a little bitch. Dear God, the embarrassment was about to eat him up, the blush not letting up for a moment.

She cracked a smile then, breaking the stoic act and he felt an immediate relief at that. He remembered what she'd told him - that he didn't need to be embarrassed about his desires. So he swallowed down his pride and awkwardness and decided to end this little game of hers. Instead of becoming sheepish he got serious.

"You still haven't told me how I can earn it." His words shook her. She was enjoying teasing him and then he flipped the switch. She could see the smirk begging to be let out at the corner of his lips, his eyes hungry and not hiding his arousal at all. She had a feeling that if she took the covers off he'd be packing a hard-on again. He was playing with fire.

"You really want to earn it?" Her eyes shifted and her domme voice returned. His skin was buzzing with excitement, hoping to finally get something out of her.

"Yes, ma'am." He smiled and she could feel her composure slipping away.

"Just wanna make you feel good." His voice dropped an octave and she could feel the dampness in her panties, the temperature in the room heating up.

"I feel good when I make you feel good, baby." Teasing, teasing, teasing. He knew she was playing him again. He swallowed, mouth feeling dry at the way she was looking at him.

"I want to taste you so bad." There it was. The honest response. She didn't want him pretending he was only interested in it for her benefit and now he was finally being truthful.

"Yeah?" She got on top of him, lips inches apart. His breath becoming her own as she stared deep into his eyes, testing his limits.

"Yes....please..." she kissed him then. A kiss so heated it could probably warm up an entire room. Little whines left his throat as she bit down on his lip, feeling his erection pressing into her ass. He was so gone.

"Please." It was a whisper, she barely heard it but she had. And boy did it have her losing her damn mind. The desperation he exhibited for her drove her wild. She had to pull away in order for both of them to catch their breaths again. God, was he testing her.

"I love the way you beg, baby." She whispered into his ear, leaving soft, wet kisses on his neck, causing him to groan... it was such a delicious torture.

"Fuck..." his whines got louder when she bit into that spot where his neck and shoulder meet, eyes rolling back. She was everything.

She had a whole scene in her mind then, clear as day. Trying to think of all the logistics was proving difficult when she was so damn turned on, causing her to pull away. He whined at the loss of contact, nearly shedding a tear. She'd built him up so high he didn't think he could survive her rejection now.

She took the water bottle and took a huge gulp, his lust filled eyes tracing her features, trying to figure out how to stop her from pulling away from him further. He thought he'd definitely cry if she did, too turned on to function. She tried getting up off of him, causing him to whine and wrap his hands around her, refusing to let her go. She nearly laughed seeing the desperation on his face, the sheer need to keep her there.

"Baby. Let go." He reluctantly loosened his grip, looking at her with big, sad eyes nearly breaking her heart.

"It's okay, sweet boy." She kissed his cheek and then shocked him by squirting water on his face. He gasped, looking at her in bewilderment. She couldn't help but laugh then.

"What..?" The confusion on his face made her laugh harder. She needed to cool them both down and this was the first thing she could think of. She can't have this conversation if she isn't thinking clearly.

"I'm sorry, I just needed you to snap out of it. Sorry, baby." She wiped the remaining water off his face. She kissed him again and pushed herself further away from him, so she can think.

"What the hell?" He was mumbling, still half in shock making her feel a bit guilty.

"Look if you're serious then we need to talk. I can't think when we're..." she drifted off then, causing him to realize what happened. She was having trouble controlling herself just as he was, so she did a silly thing to help herself think. He felt endeared, realizing that the moment had affected her just as strongly as it did him.

"Okay. Talk." He was nodding, sitting up, facing her, trying to ignore the painful boner she left him with.

"You want to be a good boy?" How was he supposed to stay calm when she says shit like that to him? Damn.

"Yes." He struggled to stay still, not to draw nearer, to feel her skin against him again. It was so hard.

"Remember when you said you were open to anal play?" Her words shook him to his core. She could see the shock in his eyes before he had a chance to mask it.

"Ye-yeah. I remember..." he wasn't sure where this was going anymore.

"Are you still? Or did you just say that cause you thought it's what I wanted to hear?" He was shaking his head before she even finished the question.

"No. I- I meant it. I want to try." She smiled at him then, a soft look on her face the polar opposite of how she looked just minutes ago.

"Yeah?" He nodded, urging her to believe him. He had no idea what she was planning but he wanted nothing more than to do whatever she wanted. Even if he was nervous.

"I want to be your good boy." His words nearly had her eyes roll back but she managed to control herself. He was so fucking hot when he gave himself to her completely.

"Okay. Well, we need to prepare, we can't do it now-"

"Why not?" The whine was louder and brattier than he intended causing her to cock a brow at him.

"Well for one I don't have lube here, and-"

"I do!" This took her by surprise. But he interrupted her twice now and that was not acceptable.

"Okay, that's good. But if you interrupt me one more time we're not having any sex at all in the forseeable future." Her voice was authoritative, making him feel embarrassed at how childish he was acting.

"I'm sorry." He looked it too, so she accepted it with a nod.

"Okay. Well, we still can't do it here. I'd like us to shower first and have privacy." She was listing things, looking so cute while she rationalized their sex life. It would have been comical if it weren't driving him insane.

He knew she didn't want to shower in his house, having offered her the option before and being met with a horrified look and a respectful decline. She claimed she liked his friends but she didn't trust their hygiene in the slightest, causing him to laugh and agree with her. He loved her shower though. He got to use her pretty smelling shampoo and he always felt extra clean and sated after showering at her apartment.

"Then lets go to your place." It was a no brainer to him. She thought of all the possible issues but given that her plans for his first time trying anal play were small, she figured it would be fine without all the usual prep. They'd build up to that eventually.

"Okay." He lit up like a christmas tree.

"Really?" She chuckled at his newfound enthusiasm.

"Yes, really. But if you change your mind at any point you need to tell me, okay?" He was nodding along quickly but she didn't forget the initial apprehension on his face and she'd be damned if she let him do something he isn't into to try and please her. Not on her watch.

They got dressed and packed up their stuff pretty quickly, the excitement in the air palpable. Some people finally started to wake up just as they were leaving the house, catching a few "screw you's" for running off before the clean up from last night began. They didn't care, too wrapped up in each other and the anticipation of what's to come to be bothered.

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

They picked up some sandwiches on the way back to her apartment, at her insistence. He was way too excited for what she had planned to think about food, but his stomach thanked her all the same when his hunger was sated.

They didn't waste any time taking their clothes off and getting in the shower. It was such a wonderful moment between them, soft and loving, he way they washed each other from all the sweat and grime from the night before. She handled him more delicately than anyone ever had in his life, and he always felt so damn safe and taken care of when she touched him like that. As the shower drew to an end, they shared some lingering, warm kisses, igniting the fire from earlier all over again in a slow burning flame.

Anticipation was killing him, driving him wild with every second that passed of them drying off and getting ready in her room. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't nervous, but it was nothing compared to how excited he felt. The trust he had in her was so complete, he knew he was always safe with her to explore these kinks without danger or judgement. He knew she'd never force him to do anything he wasn't willing to do, and that opened up the door for him to get braver and more comfortable with trying new things.

They were on her bed, still naked from the shower, not feeling any need to prolong the inevitable. She kissed him slow and deep, tongues meeting in a teasing dance, driving them both wild. The little sounds he let out were going straight to her core. She was so excited about this, she had a feeling he'd love the sensation of having his ass played with and it made her proud that he was trusting her in this sensitive moment.

"Tell me the colors again." She ordered, kissing his neck, winding him up further. She always insisted he reminds himself of the colors, so there was no chance of a miscommunication in the heat of the moment.

"Green, yellow, red. I know the drill." He quickly listed the colors, exasperated and so turned on he could barely breathe.

"Don't get sassy." She warned, still kissing his skin, over his collar bones and shoulders. She loved to kiss the freckles on his body, finding them so damn beautiful.

He was struggling to breathe, forcing deep breaths into his lungs, while she worked him over, touching and kissing everywhere. His skin was flushed, muscles taut with restraint. It felt so good, her touch, he wondered how he didn't melt right into a puddle every time her skin was on his.

She kept exploring him with her fingerips and lips, nibbling on a nipple, lightly scratching down his abs, amping him up, every nerve ending so sensitive. His cock was hard as a rock and she couldn't help but smirk at his twitching, trying so hard to be good and not do anything she didn't tell him to.

She completely ignored his erection, instead focusing on massaging his balls causing moans to leave his lips. She loved the sounds he made, could get high on them.

"That feel good, huh?" She teased, kissing his thighs while she slowly moved one hand lower, barely touching his sensitive hole. He gasped as soon as her fingers brushed him there, finally grasping just how close she was to opening him up in a whole new way.

She laid kisses on his skin as her fingers slowly massaged around his hole, causing him to groan at the teasing tempo. He needed more, she was driving him nuts.

She could tell he was getting antsy, face flushed and little, desperate whines leaving his swollen lips. She reached for the bottle of lube she'd prepared, cracking it open and squeezing a generous amount on her fingers. Rubbing her fingers to warm them up, she looked at him, holding his breath in preparation.

"What's your color, baby?" She spread his legs wide open for better access, leaving him completely exposed in front of her.

"Green." The answer was immediate, a deep longing in his voice. He kept his eyes on her, eager to see every movement she made.

"I'm gonna go slow, okay? Nothing crazy. I promise." He was nodding, impatient yet grateful for the reassurance.

"Okay. Just please do something." She smiled at his little whine and decided to put him out of his mysery.

Her fingers finally made contact with the sensitive skin around his hole, massaging slowly, warming him up, making sure to put a decent amount of lube on his entrance. The massage felt so good he couldn't imagine how it could get better.

She kissed his tummy as she slowly eased the tip of her finger into his tight hole, causing a desperate gasp to leave him. She kept a watchful eye on his face, paying attention to every expression, every breath, twitch and sound that left him. She kissed his skin as she kept massaging and lightly slipping her finger into him deeper, going slowly not to overwhelm him. She was so damn turned on at how good he was being, proud of how brave he was to let her have him like this and eager to make him see stars.

Once she'd slowly eased a finger about half way, she checked in.

"How does it feel, baby?" She rubbed his thighs in a soothing motion which calmed his mind.

"Weird. But kinda good?" It was his first time ever having anything in his ass and the sensation was strange but at the same time he wanted more. He needed to know how good it could feel, because he knew she wouldn't do this if it wasn't going to make him feel great.

"You're doing so good for me, sweet boy." He whined at the praise, blushing profusely at the intimate situation.

"Still green?" He nodded quickly making her chuckle and continue her ministrations.

"Fuck..." he moaned as her finger went deeper, touching that sensitive spot inside him, causing his mind to go completely blank as she kept going. She started moving in and out slowly, grazing that magic spot with each thrust. The way he was responding was so fucking beautiful. He was letting out sounds she hadn't heard before, the brand new pleasure making him delirious.

"You're so tight around my finger, baby." The dirty talk had him whining in desperation, wanting more, wanting her to take him however she liked. This was so different to anything he'd experienced before and he really fucking liked it.

"Taking me so good." She kept talking him thought it as she gained speed, lightly curling her finger each time she grazed that spot, having him curling his toes in pleasure, gasps and moans leaving him without his knowledge. He was so wrapped up in how nice it felt he couldn't think of anything else but her finger, her touch, her voice overwhelming his senses.

"More." He whined out the most deperate little moan she'd ever heard in her life, her panties getting soaked seeing him like this.

"More?" She questioned, picking up the pace as his moans got louder, his head nodding, words escaping him.

She wasn't expecting to do more than one finger for the first time but the way he was reacting, taking it so well, so eager, begging for more? Yeah, she was losing her fucking mind. It was the hottest thing she'd ever witnessed.

"Think you can take another finger, baby boy?" His response an immediate, moaned out "yes, please". She could see his eyes getting teary and she didn't waste another moment before squirting more lube on him and easing another finger into his tight hole.

He was a mess of moans, grunts, whines, pleas and tears as she stretched him out, giving him a new level of pleasure as both fingers pumped into him. It was heaven. He couldn't believe he'd waited this long to do this. Though he couldn't imagine ever doing this with anyone else. She was it for him, he knew it. She blew his mind every fucking time they had sex, she introduced him to highs he never even imagined.

Fuck, it felt so good to have her on top of him, fucking him with her fingers, claiming him as hers. He was getting closer and closer, cock twitching on his stomach, leaking precum, red and throbbing without even being touched. It was insane.

"You look so beatiful, baby. Taking me so well. I'm so proud of you." His tears flowed freely at her words, overwhelmed at the pleasure and praise she was giving him. It was fucking perfect.

"I'm cl- so close." She could barely make out his words from the choked moan they escaped in.

"Yeah? You wanna cum, baby?" He was trashing under her now, losing all semblance of control as she worked him to his peak.

"Please..." his whines making her pussy throb with arousal, she picked up the pace, eager to see him fall apart for her.

"Be a good boy and cum for me." As she said those words she finally gripped his cock, squeezing him as he fell off the edge and into the most intense orgasm he'd ever had.

She got high off his desperate noises, the way he twitched as he orgasmed, clenching around her fingers, cock pulsing in her hand as his cum painted his stomach. It was so fucking beautiful, she couldn't look away even if she tried.

"Look at you. So pretty." She kissed his skin as the last of his aftershocks wore off. Her words were driving him insane, after everything that just happened, being flustered at a compliment seemed surreal but there he was.

It was the most intense experience of his life. And he couldn't be more grateful that he had her to guide him through it. He felt so sensitive and thoroughly wiped out, but in the best way possible.

"How you feeling, baby?" She posed the question as she gently cleaned up the mess he made all over his stomach using a tissue. He looked flushed and sated and she couldn't be more ecstatic about what just occured.

"Good." He let out a chuckle, meeting her gaze, melting at the way she was looking at him. So fondly, he couldn't cope.

"You did so good, angel. I'm so proud of you." Her words had him shook, the praise and approval making his insides feel like mush. If his skin wasn't already red from the intense scene he'd just been through, the blush would have been fierce.

"Thank you..." his soft whisper made the butterflies reappear in her tummy. He looked so fucking beautiful she couldn't handle it.

She made her way up his body, leaving soft kisses all over his skin, warming him up with each one. She kissed his face next, the salty remnant of the tears he'd shed from pleasure being washed away with soft pecks. It was so tender and sweet he almost cried all over again.

When her lips met his, he felt as though his heart just might burst at how full and happy he was. He had never felt this happy in his whole fucking life. How did he get so lucky?

"Holy shit, baby. That was the sexiest thing I've ever seen." He giggled at her words, making the smile on her face seem permanent. So fucking cute she couldn't handle it, leading her to smother his face in kisses, causing those giggles to come out again. She was in trouble.

"Alright, baby. Gonna go clean up, be right back." She laid a final peck on his lips before making her way to the bathroom. He felt cold as soon as her touch left him and he wondered how the hell he could miss someone who's only a room away.

She took her time washing her hands, making sure they were clean enough to touch him again. She wanted to run her fingers over his face and it killed her that she had to refrain. She knew he was feeling exhausted but she had one more thing in mind before they could relax. She was excited and hoped he had enough energy to handle it.

When she made her way back to the room she found him sleepily looking at her. He had a cute little smile on and her heart skipped a beat. She climbed back on top of him, warming him up all over again, making him release a relieved sigh. He wondered how healthy it was for him to need to be with her all the time, but he didn't have it in him to care too much. Her touch, her comfort, her care was addicting and he wouldn't want to change it for the world.

She kissed him softly, drawing out a satisfied moan from him as their tongues met. She cupped his face as she kissed him, taking his breath away once again. He slowly reached up to hold her closer, feeling relief he wasn't used to, once they were skin to skin.

"You were such a good boy for me." She kissed the corner of his mouth, leaving him to struggle with responding at how good it felt and how much he loved when she called him that.

"You up for more, baby?" The kisses travelled over his neck and his heart started racing once he processed her words.

"More? I don't know if I can..." he was all whiny and shy, not wanting to disappoint her but not feeling ready for another intense experience. He thought he was done.

"No?" She kissed under his ear making his eyes roll to the back of his head. She was driving him insane.

"You don't want your reward?" He gasped as she lightly bit into his shoulder, feeling like he'd float away any second. But then he realized what she'd said.

"What? You- Wh-" he was trying to force her to look at him, pulling her face gently up to meet her eyes as he stumbled over his words.

"Reward?" He was looking at her with wide eyes, confusion on his face obvious. She simply sat up and cocked a brow, waiting for him to figure it out. It took a minute for his brain to catch up with him but once it did he thought he'd lost it.

"You- Are you serious?" He was practically begging her to say yes with the way he was looking at her. Like if she said no, his heart would shatter.

"Mhm. If you think you can handle it." She shrugged and had to hold back a laugh when he started furiously nodding his head.

"Yes! I can. Please. Green. Yes, please. Please please please..." he was blushing at his desperation but couldn't hold it back. The though of finally getting to taste her was making every nerve in his body buzz in excitement. He was on the precipice of heaven and he couldn't handle rejection now.

"You sure? You weren't too excited earlier..." his stomach dropped at her words.

"No! I mean, yes! I am so sure, please. I just thought you meant more... of what happened earlier." He was blushing profusely as he tried to get her to understand he was serious about being able to handle eating her out.

The way he was acting all shy and sheepish and desperate was really tugging at her heartstrings.

"You mean when you came around my fingers?" His blush got fiercer as he shyly nodded. He hated how much she loved to tease him when he's so wound up. But the smile on her face in that moment almost made up for it.

"I don't know, it seemed like you were enjoying it..." She kept teasing him, running her fingers over his stomach causing him to squirm with the light tickles. She was playing with him and he knew it.

"You know I was. I just can't do more of that right now... But I can make you feel good. Please?" He was trying to hard not to let his frustration seep through in his words. He needed to stay on her good side if he wanted a chance to finally taste her tonight. But the eagerness which he felt was making him extra antsy, itching for a chance to have her in this new way.

"Since you asked so nicely and you took my fingers so well..." The blush on his face had no chance of leaving when she kept talking like that.

"I'm gonna ride your face. You okay with that, baby?" He was practically shaking with excitement, nodding his head an eager yes.

"Yes, please..." his whine had her tummy stirring again and the wetness from earlier returned.

Rafe thought he would pass out as he watched her straddling his chest, being so close to her heat he could almost smell it. He couldn't wait anymore, all his fantasies were coming alive in that moment. He thought he'd never craved anything more than to have her on his tongue. He knew once he tasted her he'd be addicted and he didn't care. He was so fucking close.

"If you want to stop or talk or anything, tap my thigh. Okay?" He was struggling to find words when he could see how pretty her pussy was up close and she was playing with his hair just right. A harsh tug broke his daze as he looked up at her and finally answered.

"Yes. Please sit on my face." She almost laughed at his eagerness but refrained, taking in the adorable little pout he had on his face.

"Okay, baby." She positioned herself above him and he felt like he'd explode in the few seconds it took for her to lower herself on his face. And then she was and it was paradise. He couldn't imagine anything in existence could ever be better than this moment.

Her scent, her taste, it was so fucking addicting right off the bat. He wasted no time exploring her with his mouth, savouring the new position he was lucky to end up in. His hands made home on her ass, feeling the plump skin, massaging it as his tongue licked at her warmth. He wasn't even aware of the noises he was making as he ate her, too consumed in her pussy and bringing her pleasure to hear the moans and groans leaving him. However, she could not only hear him, but feel the vibrations on her skin, making the pleasure of his whines that much stronger. It felt amazing. He was so good with his mouth, she had no doubt he would be but it was a whole other thing actually experiencing it firsthand.

She started to slowly grind on him and his moans only got louder, his movements more eager. He fucking loved this, loved having her ride his face. He could cum just from this, he'd swear. His cock was already fully hard again but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but the woman on top of him, chasing her pleasure, using him - while he devoured his favorite meal of all time. He'd never enjoy the taste of anything more than her. He was a goner.

Her grinds got more intense, pressing her clit on his nose just right, causing his brain to go haywire at the way she was using him. His cock was twitching on his stomach at how hot this was. Moans finally left her lips and it was the most glorious of sounds. He squeezed her ass, wishing he could stay like this for an eternity.

He slipped his tongue inside her cunt and nearly wept when he felt her walls clench around the muscle. It was dirty and heavenly all at once. She reached back to tease his nipples, urging him on. He slurped and sucked on her clit, making sure to cherish every little moan and breath and clench she let out. It was the most erotic thing he'd ever witnessed. He wished he could see the look on her face when she came.

She was close, surprising herself at how quickly he managed to get her there. She buried her hand into his hair, riding his face just a little harder, chasing her high. She had never been this vocal in bed. He always brought out new experiences for her as well.

"I'm close, baby." He groaned into her pussy, hands urging her to go faster, to reach her orgasm. It only took a few more grinds of her hips for her to let go.

Then it was her juices, her taste and smell and sounds overwhelming all his senses. He lapped up every drop greedily, not wanting this moment to end. Her thighs closed around his head for a second but it was enough to have him almost reaching the end himself. He wouldn't do that though. Not again. Not without permission. This was about her. And God, was she incredible.

As the last of her shakes left her, she quickly pulled off of him, lowering herself down on his chest, eagerly checking on him. Her hands met his cheeks, his skin wet from her release and a big cheeky smile on his face when she met his eyes. He was so fucking high off of her coming in his mouth. The sexiest thing he'd ever experienced in his life.

"Thank you." Those were the first words that left him after he brought her to one of the most intense orgasms of her life. She wanted to curse at how pretty he looked all fucked out. The cheeky grin and the sparkling eyes driving her insane.

She hadn't let many people eat her out before, always focusing more on their pleasure, finding the act a bit too intimate for her liking. But damn if it didn't feel right with him. She could feel herself getting all soft and mushy inside, hoping he can't tell just how fucking smitten she was with him. She kissed him to hide her burning cheeks from his view, distracting them both, tasting herself on his tongue, swallowing up his moans, making them hers.

"If you're gonna reward me like that every time, I'm happy to do anal stuff any day now." She laughed at his words, running her fingers over his face gently, taking in the lovely moment of peace and contentment.

"You're telling me if I didn't let you eat me out, you wouldn't want me to fuck your ass?" He blushed at her words, letting her know just how much they affected him.

"No. I'd want it anyway." He was being honest and vulnerable, just like they talked about and it was doing funny things to her head.

"Thought so." She pretended to be serious for a moment but then let her guard down when she kissed all over his face again. His laugh made butterflies soar in her tummy. Fuck, if she didn't love that sound.

"I'm really glad you enjoyed it." She knew he had been apprehensive about trying anal play and she was honoured he trusted her enough to explore it with her for the first time.

"It was the best orgasm of my life." She chuckled and he looked at her so fondly she couldn't handle it.

"Nothing compared to how amazing it was having you ride my face, though." His cheeky smirk was back but she could hear the truth in his voice. He really did love eating her out. And she figured she'd let him to it more often since it was just so much fucking fun.

"You're a cheeky bastard, you know that?" He nuzzled into her skin, enjoying the playful banter they always ended up back in.

"Mhm. You like me, though." He kissed her shoulder, holding her that much closer, their naked bodies tangled together in the most wonderful mess of limbs.

"Sadly, I do. A frat guy, no less." He snorted a cute laugh and she couldn't help but laugh too.

"Luckiest frat guy in the world." His voice was so soft and he looked at her so fondly her breath caught in her throat.

He unhinged her. Every time she thought she finally stood on solid ground he went and said something sweet like that, honest like that, and shook her world to the ground again. The feelings that were bubbling inside her were way too serious and way to soon for her to entertain. So she did what she always did and shut him up with another kiss.

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

Taglist: if anyone wants to be tagged in future work let me know; @torturedtypewritersdept @kinkyrafe @mentallynot-here @wishing-i-was-rafes-princess @clinelyn @magnificantmermaid @mannstarkey @harringtonstudios @totallynotkaibiased @popcrone818 @fangirlwithlou @rafesxgold @malfoytargaryen @theyluvmesblog @withbeautyandrage @sierrahhh @harrys-humble-housewife @piceous21 @ditzyballerina @xoxo3m1ly @jessmaybank @whore-4-drewstarkey @palmwinemami @dustbunniess @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @starkowswife @ietss @beansprout713 @starkeysbebe @miahxelizabeth

[gravestrain]

gave you too much but it wasn't enough (qh43)

In which you wonder if your relationship with Quinn might end in death by a thousand cuts.

This is my submission for the eras tour fic challenge hosted by @wyattjohnston and @comphy-and-cozy! I am thrilled to be a part of this event. I received DBATC, and if you know me you know any kind of angst is not my wheelhouse, but I was thrilled to get this challenge and try to create something angsty. It will never be unresolved in my world but hopefully this does the trick :) 2.5k words, fem reader, no warnings that I know of, not proofread.

When Quinn was named the captain of the Vancouver Canucks, you had never felt so proud.

Being with Quinn for two plus years at the time, you were over the moon to see the love of your life, your favorite person in the world, being given such an honor, an honor he worked so hard for, an honor you know he deserved. Quinn was one of the most dedicated people you've ever met. With that dedication of course, comes time. Quinn dedicated countless hours to improving his game, practicing with his teammates, working out in the gym, going on runs, anything he could do to be the best he could be, he was doing it.

Under the moonlight, as you and Quinn celebrated his accomplishment, he promised you that he wouldn't stray away. That his commitment to the team wouldn't outweigh his commitment to you. To being a loving partner. A companion. However, when you woke up, stretching your arm out to feel an empty bed yet again, despite knowing that it couldn't have been much past 7 am, you wondered what went wrong. What happened to cause those promises to crumble. His words to be empty, lifeless. Void of meaning. When did you and Quinn become a couple that told each other lies? Told each other things just because the other person wanted to hear them, not because they genuinely intended to fulfill them.

It was the start of Quinn's second season as the Canucks captain. At first, you thought it was too good to be true. Quinn was thriving in his new role, yet still being the perfect partner. Attentive and on time, compassionate and loving. Now, that version of Quinn is a distant memory, mocking you as you think of him.

It started after the holidays in Quinn's first season of being captain. You chalked it up to post holiday stress and all star weekend buzz, maybe even trade deadline drama. Then the all star game passed, and even the trade deadline. Shortly after you started blaming it on the playoff push, then the playoff loss. And now here you were in November, searching for answers, trying to figure out what happened to the love of your life who turned into a stranger right in front of your own eyes, with nothing you could do about it but watch it happen.

You got yourself ready for work, looking around in the bathroom, on the bedside table, and eventually the kitchen to see if maybe Quinn left you a note, a cup of coffee in your favorite travel mug, a bagel from your favorite bakery around the corner, a sign of his love, signs that he used to never leave the house without showing. Just as you thought, there was nothing. You couldn't even remember the last time you felt Quinn kiss your forehead before he left for God knows what. Another workout, another two mile run after the three miles he did on the treadmill, or locking himself in his office watching film.

Work came and went that day, taking the long way home, dreading going home to an empty house. You thought it would be worse trying to interact with the stranger you lived with, but the silence, the emptiness, the sterile, unwelcoming cold was always worse. You stared up at the traffic lights, wondering if others saw just how foolish you felt. Writing lines to a story that was long over. Grasping on to the book, hoping for a surprise ending, one that would make everything worth it.

To say you were surprised to see Quinn's Porsche in the driveway was an understatement. Usually on practice days he didn't get home until well after 6 pm. You unlocked the front door, not expecting much. Just because he was home, doesn't mean he wasn't locked up in his office, taking notes from last night's game. A game that you never bothered to go to anymore. You knew the other WAGs missed you, people speculated about your absence on the internet, always cruel and judgmental. You couldn't bring yourself to go. You had learned to despise hockey for taking Quinn from you.

You opened the door and were surprised to see Quinn in the kitchen, grabbing a snack. Quinn looked as surprised to see you as you were, almost like he didn't know where you were, or if he even remembered that you lived there. Quiet "hi's" were exchanged, Quinn leaving a soft kiss on your cheek then awkwardly brushing past you to go towards the fridge.

"I thought we could have chicken and pasta for dinner tonight. It sounded good on my way home, I hope that's okay," Quinn muttered out, but already getting a pot of water for pasta ready, as though it didn't matter what you truly wanted. "That's okay," you offered back. "I'm gonna go sit down and read my book. If you need me, just holler." You offered and Quinn gave a nod in response. You wanted to grunt and groan under your breath. How could this be okay with him? It was as though you didn't know him, despite him knowing everything about you.

You tried to distract yourself with your book, but frustrated tears welled up in your eyes. You wiped them away aggressively, not wanting Quinn to see you cry. He couldn't muster up simple greetings, and an I love you would be almost toxic coming out of his mouth. He didn't care anymore, that much was obvious. So why should you?

You didn't know how long time passed, but it was enough time for Quinn to come over with a plate of dinner, unaware of your state. Your heart swelled. Most days, you had been eating dinner at the table, the memories of the two of you loved up on the couch, enjoying your meal and watching your latest binge watch were long gone. It seemed that Quinn was looking for one of those nights, until he saw your tears. His face dropped, setting your plate down and kneeling in front of you.

"Everything okay, sweetheart?" He asked, trying to get you to meet his eyes. You shook your head. How could he be so oblivious? "Are you serious?" You ask and Quinn's expression changed, like you had hurt him. "What do you mean by that? Why would I not be serious?" he asked, causing you to shake your head. "Quinn, things haven't been right between us for months. You leave me everyday without saying goodbye or even kissing me goodbye, you act like spending time with me is the worst thing in the world. I never go to games anymore because I resent hockey for taking you from me. When you were named captain, I was so proud of you I could explode. Now I can't even bare to be in the hockey setting because it reminds me of everything you chose over me. Quinn, I don't even know if you love me anymore." You took a breath after getting it off your chest, but at the same time a wounded gasp came out of Quinn's mouth, like he was a wounded animal.

"You think I don't love you anymore? How could you think that?" he asked, clearly hurt by what you had said. "What else do you want me to believe, Quinn? I can't even remember the last time you told me you loved me. And beyond that, that you ever even showed that you might. I feel like I live with a stranger. You can't honestly tell me that you have felt satisfied in this relationship. That you feel that we love each other to the fullest, that we love spending time together. I haven't felt confident that you feel that way in a long time." At this point you both had tears in your eyes, Quinn feeling devastated by what he was hearing.

Of course Quinn wasn't 100% satisfied with your relationship. He wasn't delusional enough to believe that everything was perfect. He knew that hockey had been his number one priority lately, and he had been trying to make that not be the case.

"Baby, I know I haven't been putting you first lately, and I'm sorry for that. I truly am. But I feel like it's only been this way since the start of the regular season." This had you scoffing immediately. "You don't seriously believe that. Quinn, I could say I have felt this way on and off since January." This caused another hurt gasp to leave Quinn's lips. "Why didn't you say something..." he trailed off, hurt, but he knew the answer.

"I shouldn't have to beg you to love me, Quinn. I shouldn't have to tell you that you have been neglecting me, neglecting us. If you truly can't see what's been going on, I don't know how I can explain it to you. If you think that this relationship has been satisfactory for both parties, I can't change your mind of that. But I won't be treated like this any longer. I think we should spend some time apart." Quinn backed up as soon as the suggestion came out of your mouth, looking like he had been shot.

"You don't mean that, you can't" he gasped. "Quinn, I'm not saying I want to breakup. If I didn't believe this was salvageable, if I didn't believe you could fix this, I would just say I wanted to break up. I believe we can fix this, but I think some time apart would do us good. For us both to figure out what we're looking for and what we truly want. If we find that this is still what we want, that's great, I believe that we will make it work. But this, this... arrangement, this isn't working. I know you seem shocked and hurt, but I know you don't believe that this is working for both of us, or honestly either of us."

"I'll go stay with Petey, I don't want to be in your way," Quinn suggested and you shook your head. "It's okay, really. I can go stay with Brock's girlfriend. Since she lives by herself it won't be awkward for any of us. I do believe we can make this work Quinn, I just don't think we can do it in these conditions." You put your hand on his cheek and his face softened, leaning into your touch.

"Tell me how to fix it, please, I'll do anything," he begged, tears steadily streaming down his face. "I can't tell you that, Quinn. I want you to figure out. To understand where I'm coming from, and want to work to fix it. I haven't been perfect either Quinn, we can both work on this. I shouldn't have to tell you that spending time together once a month isn't enough. I don't know how it can be enough for you, either. If that's okay with you, then this just isn't going to work."

"I'll fix it baby, I promise, I'll do anything." he whispered, almost defeatedly but feeling much better. "I believe you, baby. I do."

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

The flowers started on Mondays. Each Monday, a different bouquet of beautifully arranged flowers arrived at your office. The message was also different each week but it always ended the same way: " I love you, I believe in us." You texted Quinn every week when the flowers came to let him know you got them and to send your thanks. After four weeks of flowers, you were sitting in the front room of Brock's girlfriend, Bella's, apartment, getting stuff done on your computer on a chilly Saturday afternoon. A knock on the door sounded, causing you to pause your work. You had been staying with Bella long enough that you felt comfortable getting the door. Not to mention Bella liked to sleep in super late on weekends, meaning you would be the only one to even be available to open the door.

Your heart sank to your toes as you looked through the peephole, seeing Quinn. He looked different. If your gut was right, he looked tired, a far away look in his eyes, almost as though he missed you as much as you missed him. You didn't want to believe it, wary of getting your heart broken. He was holding something in his hands, fidgeting with it as he waited for the door to open.

"Y/N, hi," Quinn whispered out, taking a step towards you. "Hi Quinn, it's great to see you. How have you been? Would you like to come inside?" You asked, causing him to shake his head. "I can't stay, but thank you for offering," he stopped himself, wanting to keep boundaries in between you two in order for you to be most comfortable.

"It's been a while since we've seen each other, and I wanted to come ask you something. I was hoping you'd like to come to the game tomorrow night? I was hoping this would be enough time, but if not it's okay." His voice was shaky, unsure, almost like he was scared of your response. "I'm not sure, Quinn. Won't it be weird that I'm there? I don't want to cause any drama." You said apprehensively. You were also nervous of what that step in your relationship would be.

"There would be no drama at all, babe. You could just sit with Bell in the stands if you would prefer that, but I know the WAGs have really been missing you. I heard Millsy's daughters have been waiting for you to paint their nails on intermission again," he joked, causing you to smile. His heart melted at the smile on your face, finally feeling fulfilled, that he made you happy.

"I'll be there, Quinn. You can put me in the box. Don't worry about parking, though. I'm sure I can catch a ride with Bella." You both smiled, joyful at the step in the right direction for the both of you. "I can't wait."

________________

For all the time you had spent at Canucks games, you never thought you would be so nervous about what to wear, but here you are. Finally, settling on a stylish Canucks long sleeve with no distinction of Quinn on the shirt, paired with dark jeans and sneakers.

Quinn played a great game, getting a goal and an assist, the Canucks winning 3-1. You were ecstatic. Being back at the games, with your friends, cheering on Quinn, just felt right. It felt like where you were supposed to be. When you met Quinn after the game, he couldn't help himself either, jogging up to you and wrapping his arms around you, lifting you up off the ground. "Quinn!" you exclaimed, laughing out loud. "You did so good!" You laughed as he set you back on the ground. "It's because you were here, my good luck charm." He mused, causing you to blush.

Before he could stop himself, Quinn asked: "come home with me?" Your breath shortened, definitely not expecting that to come out of his mouth. "Are you sure?" You asked him, heart racing at the idea of going home with Quinn, truly where you belonged. "I would want nothing more."

It felt at times that no matter how much you gave to Quinn, it would never be enough. But as you both grew and learned more about yourselves, you both knew that all you could give would always be enough for the both of you.