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5sospenguinqueen · 7 months ago

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Emotional Range Of A Teaspoon | Pierre Gasly

Summary: What right does he have to feel angry at the sight of Y/N and Charles? The answer is none. After all, she's only his best friend. Isn't she?

Warnings: Swearing. Angst. Fluff. Jealousy. One suggestive comment

No faceclaim but British reader. 2024 timeline

F1 Masterlist

Requested: Yes (sorry it's a little late)

This one actually comes with a tiny text paragraph mid-way through

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Replies to @ PierreGASLY

Charles_Leclerc c’mon mate, it’s only been two days

→ PierreGASLY a whole lifetime

→ ItsYN i can’t even remember what you look like

→ Charles_Leclerc and the people say that i am the dramatic one

AlpineF1Team think you can channel that pain into some points this weekend?

→ PierreGASLY why aren’t you taking my pain seriously

→ AlpineF1Team do you want us to schedule you an appointment with the counsellor?

→ ItsYN i don’t think that counsellor gets paid enough to listen to him

User1 ouch, talk about friendzoned

→ User2 no, no, they’re in the denial stage of their friends to lovers arc

Replies to @ ItsYN

PierreGASLY i can still hear your voice

→ PierreGASLY although i’m glad you’re not making me suffer through the lost boys again

→ ItsYN okay first off, you love that movie. and second, because of that, i’m telling everyone you cried watching cars 3

→ PierreGASLY traitor!

→ LiamLawson30 as any man would!

Charles_Leclerc don’t worry y/n, i’ll have movie night with you

→ ItsYN are you going to make me watch harry potter again?

→ Charles_Leclerc yes..?

→ ItsYN @ PierreGASLY come back please

Replies to @ Charles_Leclerc

User3 not charles tweeting this the day after the canadian gp. y/n missed the canadian gp and you can tell poor charles had to hear all about it

ItsYN we all know i would be the soldier and pierre would be the doting housewife crying on the platform

→ PierreGASLY and i would look radiant doing so

Max33Verstappen he wouldn’t shut up about her during the driver’s parade. i tried to walk off and he followed me!

→ PierreGASLY i was in the middle of a sentence!

→ danielricciardo mate you know it’s bad when yapstappen needs you to stop talking

ItsYN stop talking about me. you're making it sound like we're friends

→ Charles_Leclerc excuse me but you know you want to be my bestie

→ PierreGASLY you can’t have her. she’s mine. i saw her first. shotgun or whatever you monagasques say for dibs

→ GeorgeRussell63 actually i saw her first; her brother was my teammate when we were kids so

→ PierreGASLY and just for that, i’m unfollowing you

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

Replies to @ CHICKEN!!

User4 whoever took this photo needs to go straight to jail. not y’all making it seem like charles and y/n are a sneaky item

User5 i knew she was shady, talking about how she couldn't make it only to end up in the winning driver’s garage

PierreGASLY oh

→ User6 wait no, pierre, come back. look at other tweets about this please

User7 stop being a shit stirrer. he’s literally got his other arm wrapped around alex ‘cause he was guiding the two of them through a ton of fans but that’s conveniently been cropped out

Replies to @ BRAKKEEE

User8 i can’t believe people were trying to convince us ynarles was real when it’s clearly ynex

User9 love that charles was literally only there to keep them safe from fans and after that they were like ‘you’re done babe. now we run off into the sunset’

User10 watching him chase after them was so funny tho because he was literally yelling “let me play too”

Replies to @ ItsYN

User11 oh no, we’re so sorry. we were just so happy to see you

→ User12 yeah and pierre would’ve been happy to see her as well if you hadn’t blasted her all over the internet

→ User13 pierre didn't exactly look all that happy though. he wouldn’t stop glaring at poor charles

→ User12 maybe because you guys made it seem like his best friend lied to him to be with charles

Thumb aimlessly swiping at the screen of his phone, Pierre scanned the tweets as they passed, making note of a cute waffle shop in Monaco that he knew Y/N would love. Nothing of note appeared to have been posted as most of the Grid were waiting to hear where Sainz had signed. Hand halting, Pierre’s eyes flickered across the screen once. Twice. And then a third time just to be sure. His last message to Y/N had gone unanswered and now there was a picture of her on Twitter, claiming to be from today. With Charles’ arm around her. His teeth sank into his bottom lip, and a derisive scoff filled his driver’s room. What happened to being unable to book the time off work, he thought bitterly to himself. Instead she was in the Paddock with a red-clad arm wrapped around her. Before he could restrain himself, he had clicked on the ‘reply’ button. A knock at the door pulled him from his downward spiral, preventing him from looking further into the comments gushing about how cute his best friend and closest F1 friend looked as a couple.

“Pierre, time to warm up.”

“D’accord.”

He locked his phone before dumping it onto the massage table, storming out of his driver’s room, unaware that if he had scrolled down another two posts, he would’ve seen a picture of Y/N with Alexandra and a tweet from the woman herself.

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ItsYN just posted

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, estebanocon and others

ItsYN an amazing weekend in barcelona watching my best friend do his thing and achieve some well-deserved points. a huge thank you to charles and alex for helping me sneak into the paddock last-minute tagged: pierregasly, charles_leclerc and alexandrasaintmleux

553 comments

alpinef1team our favourite things rolled into one post

→ ItsYN mine too!

→ User1 sis, get off the floor

estebanocon should i be offended that you wearing my cap didn’t make the post

→ ItsYN shh i can’t have my people thinking i have friends other than pear

danielricciardo PIERRE GASSLLLYYYYY

→ ItsYN go thirst over him on his posts. my insta is a 310 free zone

→ danielricciardo just admit that you’re jealous of our love and move on

→ ItsYN was he publicly crying over missing YOU? i don’t think so

→ danielricciardo that’s because i’m a better friend than you and i’ve been here the whole time

→ ItsYN blocked

alexandrasaintmleux thank you for trusting me with the surprise!

→ ItsYn thank you for being so wonderful and helping 🩷 (and stopping charles from throttling me)

→ charles_leclerc it’s because you wouldn’t stop saying thank you and asking me if i was “sure that it’s no bother” to help you

→ It’sYN sorry for being considerate!

User2 not to be that person but has anyone else noticed that pierre hasn’t commented?

→ User3 i'm getting the feeling that, despite all his online complaining, he wasn’t overly excited to see his best friend this weekend?

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User4 not the f1wags posting her, they know the truth

→ User5 what truth. it doesn’t look they’re even friends anymore

User7 it’s the way she looks like she’s trying to explain/talk to him and he’s just yelling at her

→ User8 i used to root for them to get together but now that he’s yelled at her :/

User9 y/n is stronger than me because if a man pointed his finger like that at me, i’d savagely bite it off

User10 uh, who does he think he is talking to y/n l/n that way

User11 i bet it’s because he thought y/n was there for charles and got jealous

→ User12 i’ve connected the dots

→ User13 you ain’t connected shit

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User14 idk which one i want to be more

→ User15 that’s because you want to be their third instead

User16 i’m thirsty. anyone else thirsty

LandoNorris oh god my eyes

→ danielricciardo this is why you should stop looking at x rated things on the internet

→ User17 what happened to your pr training?

→ Charles_Leclerc what happened to pierre’s?

User18 if only he could transfer this kind of passion onto the track

User19 uh, the clarity of the third one?? did admin take this and then leak it online?

→ AlpineF1Team i'm afriad that we’re finding out along with you guys but we’re not gonna pretend like we weren’t rooting for this

ItsYN why am i trending on twitter?

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ItsYN just posted

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, lilymhe and others

ItsYN my little pain au chocolat 💕

845 comments

pierregasly we talked about you calling me pastries

→ ItsYn yes, we did. and i didn’t take into account anything you said

→ pierregasly you are very lucky you're cute

→ ItsYN it's gotten me far in life

User1 talk about a hard launch

→ User2 they weren’t really given the choice considering they were caught snogging all over barcelona last weekend

alpinef1team pierre repping the alpine colours

→ ItsYN release your chokehold on my man

→ alpinef1team no, you release your chokehold on our man

→ ItsYN what happened to being supportive of this?

→ alpinef1team that was before all he did was yap about you!

lilymhe babe, this isn’t you. get up and come back to me

→ ItsYN i’m sorry but i don’t think i can come back from this

→ lilymhe what about us, what about everything we’ve been through

→ ItsYN you know i never wanted to hurt you

→ alex_albon @ pierregasly guess i’ll be seeing you at the next karaoke marathon

→ pierregasly only if you sing breaking free with me

→ ItsYN this is why i love you

landonorris let’s take a moment for our fallen soldier… we lost an honourable brit to a french man

→ pierregasly it’s not my fault that i have charm and you don’t

→ danielricciardo i didn’t realise charm meant having a tantrum when she asks your friend for help to surprise you

→ pierregasly we agreed not to speak of that!

→ ItsYN i don’t think you’re living this one down, macaron

charles_leclerc can you tell him to put his clothes back on, please

→ ItsYN i tried but he seems incapable of keeping them on around me

→ pierregasly charles is just jealous of my amazing physique

→ charles_leclerc best you not talk about jealousy

User4 @ ItsYN i love that they’ve not had a chance to pr train you yet

→ ItsYN never!

User5 and they called me crazy when i said friends to lovers!

→ ItsYN tbf hun, so did we. it took us a minute

→ User6 so pierre is slow on and off the track

→ pierregasly hey!

pierregasly just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, yukitsunoda0511 and others

pierregasly from movie nights to drunken karaoke, i would go on any adventure with you

1,454 comments

ItsYN my best friend and my love

→ alexandrasaintmleux i thought i was your best friend

→ ItsYN i’m not allowed to post shirtless pics of you online though

→ charles_leclerc no you are not!

→ User7 i hope pr never got ahold of her

→ alpinef1team she has an appointment with them on thursday

yukitsunoda0511 is this what they call simping?

→ pierregasly no

→ ItsYN yes

maxverstappen1 does this mean you’ll stop talking about her during driver’s parades?

→ pierregasly no

→ yukitsunoda0511 he’ll just stop talking about whether she’s interested in any of us

→ ItsYN he did that?

→ pierregasly no!

→ maxverstappen1 yes, the latest victim was logan

→ charles_leclerc actually i was the latest victim, and i will remain the most famous. my jealousy era is forever captured on the internet

→ logansargeant @ pierregasly is that why you kept asking me what i thought about her?

landonorris you guys are kinda cute when you’re not yelling at her

→ ItsYN please stop saying this. i'm the one who has to listen to him apologise over and over for the millionth time

→ pierregasly because i feel bad!

→ ItsYN omg i know!

danielricciardo mate, we get it. she’s your girl now but you can let go of her for two seconds. she’s not going to disappear

→ pierregasly it’s called a healthy attachment

→ ItsYN he says whilst cuddled into my neck and following me to the bathroom

lilymhe she’s so hot, drop me her @ please

→ pierregasly back off

→ ItsYN i’m right here bby girl. let me take out on a date

→ charles_leclerc careful lily or he might start yelling at you next

alpinef1team we’ve been asked by an anonymous source that you all refrain from discussing previous events. reparations have been made and it’s been advised that such an event remain in the past

→ danielricciardo lol he ran to mom

→ landonorris anonymous source, my ass. just tag him

→ georgerussell63 this is so lame

→ alex_albon mate, this is more obvious than pierre’s jealousy

→ charles_leclerc even i cannot support him through this

→ ItsYN i love you, my little croissant, but i cannot pretend that this is normal

→ pierregasly ultimate betrayal

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Sorry if this wasn’t angst enough. Humour and fluff are more my forte.

As always, F1 requests open for the current grid and retired drivers.

Tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury

(A huge thank you to both of you for wanting to be added to all f1 posts. It means a lot)

1K notes · View notes

svt-luna · 2 months ago

Note

hi lovely, i hope you are having/had a good day! i woke up this morning to svt winning another daesang (as they should) and the speech had me sobbing 😭

so i was wondering if you’re comfortable, could you possibly write something from lunas pov during the speech and her saying her own heartwarming speech? also maybe writing about their celebration dinner(?) afterwards where they facetimed jun and hannie? (and maybe squeeze in a little jeongna moment if you can 👀) this is my first time making a request so i’m sorry if this doesn’t make sense, i’m a little nervous.

if you don’t want to write it or don’t feel comfortable writing it, that is totally fine. i love your writing btw 🫶🏾

𝜗℘ BIRDS OF A FEATHER

❛ 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘪 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘪'𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪'𝘮 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 '𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪 𝘥𝘪𝘦, '𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪 𝘥𝘪𝘦. '𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, '𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘦. ❜

timeline: 2024

synopsis: Amid the rush of the MAMA Awards and the whirlwind of victories, Luna and Jeonghan share quiet moments of love and reflection, as their hearts connect through wins, speeches, and emotions that speak louder than words.

warnings: short but sweet, cursing, fluff, slight angst?, crying, long speeches, established relationship, slight flirting, tooth-rotting fluff

hi, my love!! please don’t be nervous and feel free to request more because this is a great request, i just had to write it real quick. and do not worry, you aren’t the only one who sobbed. i ugly sobbed watching the show, they deserve everything in the world. my heart is full for the guys 🥹🤍

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

Luna can still remember their first-ever award show.

The sound of applause echoed around the massive venue, filling every corner of the arena with an energy that Luna could still feel, even years later.

She remembered that night as vividly as if it had just happened, though it was now a memory softened by time and sweetened by the hard-earned successes that followed.

Their first awards show as SEVENTEEN wasn’t glamorous, nor was it triumphant in the conventional sense.

They hadn’t won any awards that night; they were merely performers in a lineup of seasoned artists who had long since carved their names into the fabric of the industry.

Yet, for Luna, that night held a special kind of magic— one that was tinged with equal parts intimidation and exhilaration.

The air backstage had been charged with nervous energy. SEVENTEEN had been a fresh, wide-eyed group at the time, their faces still bright with the unfiltered enthusiasm of newcomers.

Luna remembered her own nerves most distinctly. She had fidgeted with the hem of her stage outfit, her heart pounding as the reality of performing at such a grand event settled over her.

It wasn’t just the thought of performing in front of their fans— Carats, as they would later come to call them— but also the knowledge that the audience was filled with some of the most respected artists in the industry.

Icons.

Legends.

People whose music Luna had grown up listening to, whose names were spoken with reverence in both casual conversation and industry circles.

It was overwhelming.

The stage had felt enormous beneath her feet, its scale almost swallowing them whole. Bright lights illuminated every corner of the arena, rendering the faces of the audience a blur beyond the glare.

Yet, when the music started, something shifted.

The nerves, the apprehension, the sheer weight of the moment— all of it melted away in the rhythm of their choreography and the familiar beats of their song.

They weren’t only a group of rookies anymore; they were SEVENTEEN, standing shoulder to shoulder and filling that stage with their energy and passion.

The applause that followed wasn’t deafening, nor was it as sustained as some of the others they would hear that night. But it was enough to leave a mark, enough to affirm that they had been seen, even if only as one of many acts in a star-studded lineup.

Luna remembered sitting among the audience after their performance, her breath still uneven from exertion but her eyes wide with wonder. They watched as other artists— seasoned veterans with decades of experience, and rising stars who were rapidly ascending the industry ladder— took the stage.

Every performance seemed like a masterclass in artistry, leaving Luna in awe. There was so much to learn from the way they commanded the stage, from the way they carried themselves with a confidence born of years in the spotlight.

When the awards segment began, the awe only deepened.

Category after category, artists stepped up to the stage to receive their trophies, their names etched in gold on placards that would later be photographed, shared, and celebrated.

Luna had clapped until her palms stung, genuinely thrilled for the winners even though a small, quiet voice in her heart whispered that one day, she wanted to be where they were.

The grand prizes were the highlight of the night.

They weren’t just awards; they were accolades that symbolized unparalleled achievement, the kind of recognition that marked an artist as the best of the best.

Luna remembered how the winners’ names were called, the way the room seemed to hold its collective breath before erupting in applause. She watched as these titans of the industry ascended the stage, some with practiced poise, others with teary humility.

Their speeches, though varied in tone and content, all carried the weight of their journey— the sacrifices, the triumphs, the sheer determination it took to reach that pinnacle.

It was both inspiring and humbling.

As the night progressed, Luna felt the spark of something igniting within her. She could sense it in the others too.

Seungcheol’s clenched fists as he silently vowed to lead them to greater heights, Woozi’s laser-focused gaze that already seemed to be dissecting how they could improve, and the way Hoshi had leaned over to murmur something to Joshua, his expression a mix of determination and quiet pride.

They all felt it— that drive to grow, to push themselves harder, to ensure that one day, they would no longer be the rookies sitting in awe of others.

They wanted to be the artists who stood on that stage, holding those trophies, delivering those speeches. To be artists whose music has grown to have an impact on their fans.

Luna carried that moment with her for years.

It became a cornerstone of her resolve, a memory she often revisited on the nights when exhaustion threatened to pull her under. She would remind herself of the awe she had felt, the respect she had for those artists, and the fire it had lit within her.

It wasn’t about proving anyone wrong or chasing fame for its own sake. It was about reaching the level of artistry that deserved to stand among the greats.

And that night, surrounded by her members, Luna had felt the first stirrings of a shared dream. They hadn’t spoken it aloud then— it didn’t need to be said. It was in the way they clapped for the winners, in the way they exchanged glances full of unspoken promises.

One day, they would be the ones to take the stage not just as performers, but as artists recognized for their craft. They would work until their names weren’t just part of the lineup but were written in gold on those placards.

And so they had.

The memory of that night in 2023 glimmered in Luna’s mind, warm and vivid, like a beacon guiding her back to one of the most profound moments of her life.

Almost nine years into their career, SEVENTEEN had already achieved so much.

They had performed on some of the most prestigious stages, sold out arenas worldwide, broken records they hadn’t dared to dream about and won countless awards that decorated their journey.

Each trophy, no matter the category or scale, was a testament to their relentless hard work and the unshakable bond they shared— not just with one another but with the fans who had stood by them every step of the way.

Yet nothing— absolutely nothing— compared to the moment they won their first Grand Prize.

The 2023 MAMA Awards were already a night to remember.

It was one of those moments where Luna found herself marveling at how far they had come. She had stepped onto that stage alongside her thirteen members, the lights glinting off their meticulously designed outfits, the roar of Carats shaking the very foundation of the venue.

The familiarity of it all— the stage, the adrenaline, the chants of their name— felt comforting, like a second skin they had worn for nearly a decade.

But when the announcement came, when their album ‘FML’ was called for Album of the Year, the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

Luna had felt the breath leave her lungs, her vision blurring as the words echoed through the arena. It was as though time had slowed, each second stretching into eternity as the realization sank in.

They had done it.

After years of climbing, years of pushing themselves past limits they didn’t even know existed, they had reached a summit they had only ever dreamed about.

The fourteen of them had risen to their feet as one, an unspoken unity carrying them toward the stage.

The journey to the microphone felt surreal, like walking through a dream they were afraid to wake from.

Luna remembered catching glimpses of the members’ faces through her tears— Woozi’s eyes already glistening, Seungkwan biting his trembling lip, Mingyu’s hand clenched tightly over his chest as though physically restraining the emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

The applause around them was deafening, but Luna could only hear the pounding of her heart, the rush of blood in her ears. By the time they reached the stage, she was trembling.

Standing there, under the brilliant lights, holding the golden trophy that bore their name, Luna felt a strange, overwhelming mix of emotions.

Pride, of course, swelled in her chest, nearly bursting through her ribcage. But beneath it was something deeper— something raw and healing.

It was as though the girl she had been nearly a decade ago, the one who had sat in awe watching other artists take home awards like this, was standing beside her now.

For a brief, fleeting moment, Luna felt that teenage girl’s insecurities and doubts dissolve into the air, replaced by the quiet, undeniable truth that they had earned this.

All fourteen of them crowded around the microphone, a chaotic, beautiful tangle of limbs and emotions.

The trophy, heavier than she had imagined, was passed from hand to hand, each member clutching it as though it might disappear if they let go.

Luna remembered how it felt in her grasp— solid, warm, alive with the energy of their shared victory.

The speeches began, one by one.

Some members could barely get their words out through their tears, their voices cracking as they expressed gratitude that could never fully be captured in words. Others spoke with surprising composure, their emotions shining through in the weight of their pauses and the tremor in their voices.

Every single one of them spoke from the heart, their words a love letter to Carats, to the people who had supported them from the very beginning.

Luna herself had cried— not the graceful, restrained tears one might expect at such a moment, but the kind of sobs that left her shaking.

She cried for the rookie she had been, for the years of hard work and sacrifice, for the moments of doubt when this dream had felt impossibly out of reach. She cried for the fans who had believed in them even when they hadn’t fully believed in themselves, for the members who had become her family, and for the journey that had led them to this stage.

It was as though the moment had cracked something open inside all of them, releasing years of pent-up longing, frustration, and hope. For that brief time, standing together with tears streaming down their faces, they weren’t the polished, professional idols the world saw them as.

They were kids again— wide-eyed, hopeful, and impossibly grateful.

It felt like healing.

The roar of the crowd, the flashing cameras, the dazzling lights— it all blurred together into a kaleidoscope of sensations, but Luna would never forget the way she felt at that moment. It was as though they had stepped back in time, becoming the teenagers who had once dreamed of this very moment.

Winning their first Grand Prize wasn’t just an achievement; it was a culmination of every step they had taken to get there, every challenge they had faced, and every dream they had dared to dream.

And as they stood there, holding their trophy with trembling hands and tearful smiles, it felt like they were rookies all over again.

The present moment felt surreal as well, but Luna couldn’t stop the memories from flooding her mind as she walked alongside her members toward the stage.

The 2024 MAMA Awards were taking place in Japan, and yet the experience felt oddly familiar. She had been here before, in some capacity— another city, another year, but always surrounded by the same faces.

It was the same sequence of events: the glittering red carpet, the dizzying flashes of cameras, the hum of anticipation in the air. They had arrived in sleek, custom-tailored outfits, every detail meticulously planned to exude elegance and confidence. As always, the fans greeted them with deafening cheers, their voices rising above the chaos, a reminder of the love and support that had carried them through the years.

The award show itself had unfolded like so many others before it. They had taken their seats among a sea of familiar faces— some peers, some icons they still admired from afar despite sharing the same industry. They had watched the performances with genuine awe, clapping enthusiastically for their fellow artists, basking in the shared celebration of music and artistry.

These moments were always a highlight for Luna, a chance to witness the diversity and passion of their craft.

Throughout the evening, SEVENTEEN had already won two awards— Fan’s Choice, Super Stage, and Album of the Year which they had won the year prior as well. Each win had been met with cheers and applause, their names called out with the same warmth and pride as every time before.

Luna had stood with the members as they accepted the awards, their speeches heartfelt and grateful, their joy spilling over as they thanked their fans and the people who had helped them get here. The weight of each trophy was a reminder of their hard work, a tangible acknowledgment of the bond they had built with their fans.

But it wasn’t just about those awards.

After their performance— an electrifying stage that showcased a medley of their newer songs— the night took a turn no one had dared to predict.

They had barely returned to their seats, adrenaline still coursing through their veins, when the announcement came. The words seemed to echo in the cavernous arena, sinking into the stunned silence that followed.

SEVENTEEN had won the Grand Prize for Artist of the Year.

The gravity of those words hit Luna like a tidal wave, her heart hammering in her chest as they were ushered to their feet.

Winning Album of the Year two years in a row felt monumental, like breaking through a glass ceiling they had been reaching toward for years.

But this year— this was something else entirely.

Artist of the Year.

The pinnacle of recognition.

A title that declared them not just successful but iconic, a force to be reckoned with.

Luna’s legs felt shaky as she followed the others, the twelve of them making their way toward the stage. Her heels clicked against the polished floor, each step heavy with the weight of everything that moment symbolized.

It wasn’t just another trophy; it was a testament to nearly a decade of unwavering determination, sleepless nights, and sacrifices none of them spoke about openly.

Yet, as monumental as the achievement was, Luna couldn’t stop the pang of sadness that accompanied it.

They were twelve tonight.

Jeonghan was doing his alternative military service, his absence a constant ache in their dynamic, and Jun was in China, pursuing his acting career with the same passion he had always brought to the group.

The two of them were irreplaceable, and though SEVENTEEN had adapted, though they had pressed on with their tour and their schedules, it never stopped feeling incomplete.

Luna’s throat tightened as the thought crossed her mind.

Performing with twelve of them felt empty in a way she couldn’t describe. It was like a song missing its harmonies, a painting with two crucial strokes left undone. Standing here now, walking toward a microphone that should have had fourteen voices ready to speak, that emptiness felt magnified.

The joy of the moment was undeniable, but so was the absence of Jeonghan’s playful smirk and Jun’s calming presence.

They had made it to the stage by now, the bright lights shining down on them, the cheers of the audience deafening in their ears.

Luna blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the wave of emotion threatening to overwhelm her. She knew she wasn’t alone in feeling this way. She could see it in the way the members carried themselves, their smiles tinged with bittersweet undertones, their gazes flickering to the empty spaces beside them.

Even as the trophy was placed in their hands, even as the reality of the win began to sink in, Luna couldn’t shake the weight of it all.

This was a first for them— Artist of the Year.

It was the kind of award that solidified a legacy, that spoke to the impact they had made not just in one year but across their entire career. And yet, it felt wrong to be accepting it without all of them present.

The tears Luna had been holding back pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

Not yet.

Instead, she focused on the moment, on the twelve of them standing shoulder to shoulder, a united front despite the gaps between them. They had worked too hard for this, sacrificed too much, to let the moment pass them by.

Still, as they approached the microphone and prepared to speak, Luna couldn’t help but wish that Jeonghan and Jun were there. The weight of the trophy in her hands felt both comforting and heavy, a symbol of everything they had achieved and everything they still wanted to be.

The stage was awash in golden light, illuminating the twelve figures standing before an audience whose cheers swelled like a tide.

Luna stood slightly behind the others, her fingers playing with her rings that were glittering as she tried to focus on the moment. She caught Seungcheol stepping forward, his calm and steady presence a source of comfort even now. He raised the microphone, his voice strong despite the visible emotion etched into his features.

“Say the name…” he began, the words resonating through the arena.

“SEVENTEEN!” the members chorused, their hands moving in perfect synchronization to their signature gesture before bowing deeply in unison. “Hello, we are SEVENTEEN.”

The arena erupted in cheers, the kind that echoed endlessly, an overwhelming wave of love and celebration that swept over them all. Luna straightened, her chest swelling with pride as her gaze flickered across the fans who were crying, laughing, and cheering with unrestrained joy.

Hoshi stepped forward next, his energy as bright and infectious as ever. “THANK YOU TO CARATS WHO MADE US ARTIST OF THE YEAR!!” he shouted into the microphone, his voice carrying an uncontainable enthusiasm that filled every corner of the venue.

Luna couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face, her heart warming at the sight of Hoshi’s genuine excitement. He continued, his tone softening but still infused with his usual passion. “We really didn’t know we’d be able to receive two big awards at MAMA like this,” he said, pausing as if to collect his thoughts. “But I think our first big award we received after eight years last year gave us the meaning that if we don’t give up, anything is possible. So with the two big awards this time, it gave us the meaning that we will continue forward like SEVENTEEN! We’ll really work hard. Thank you!!”

As he stepped back, the audience roared in approval, their cheers blending with the claps and nods of the other members. Luna turned slightly to glance at the members beside her. Some were wiping away the beginnings of tears, their expressions a mix of disbelief and gratitude.

Dino took the mic next, his youthful presence commanding attention even amidst the grandeur of the moment. Luna watched him closely, noticing the determination shining in his eyes. “Actually, when we received our Daesang last year, I was the only one who couldn’t share my thoughts,” Dino began, his voice steady yet laced with a hint of vulnerability. “But I got to do a bit today.” He paused, a small, almost sheepish smile crossing his face before he continued.

“Ever since our debut, my dream was to be an artist that would remain in history,” he said, his words quiet but powerful, as though he were confiding in every person in the room. “And receiving the Artist of the Year award felt like something new too. In the future, we won’t lose the feelings that made us worthy to receive this award and the feelings we had from the start as we go forward. We will go forward together with Carats. Thank you, and I love you!”

The cheers that erupted then were deafening, the sound wrapping around them like a warm embrace. Dino stepped back into the line of members, his expression softened but proud as the audience responded with unbridled enthusiasm.

It was Dokyeom’s turn next. Luna’s gaze shifted toward him as he stepped up, a bright smile tugging at his lips despite the sheen of emotion glistening in his eyes. His voice was warm and affectionate, as though speaking directly to their fans.

“Carats!! I love you!” he began, his tone as vibrant as his personality. “We got to receive two Daesangs at MAMA like this, and I’m so thankful for that. The reason we’re able to receive such a big award like this is thanks to our Carats. If it weren’t for the love from our Carats, we wouldn’t be able to receive an award this big, so I think today there’s no way for us to be anything but happy.” He paused for a moment, his voice thickening slightly as his words slowed. “You made such a happy day for us today…”

As Dokyeom’s voice trailed off, he turned his head, his eyes meeting Seungcheol, who stood slightly apart from the others. The leader’s back was to the audience, his head tilted downward as his shoulders shook faintly.

The atmosphere shifted, a hush falling over the members as they realized what was happening.

Luna’s breath caught in her throat as Seungcheol turned partially, his head still lowered. Before anyone could react, he leaned toward her, resting his forehead on her shoulder.

Luna froze for a moment, her heart clenching as she felt the subtle tremor of his body against hers. Her hand moved instinctively, intertwining their fingers in a comforting grip as she whispered, “Please don’t cry, Cheollie.” Her own tears threatened to fall, her voice trembling as she tried to keep them at bay.

Luna hated seeing people cry, especially her members. She had always had a soft heart, one that couldn’t bear the sight of the people she loved in pain, and Seungcheol was no exception.

“Are you crying?” Dokyeom’s voice broke through the moment, playful yet tinged with concern as he addressed the mic once more. “Our leader hyung is crying… don’t cry! Don’t cry!” he chanted, his enthusiasm infectious as the fans immediately joined in, their voices echoing throughout the arena.

“Yes, Coups hyung, say a word,” Dokyeom said, his tone encouraging as he gestured toward their leade

Seungcheol inhaled deeply as he moved toward the microphone, his fingers tightly intertwined with Luna’s. Her hands enveloped his trembling one, holding it securely as though anchoring him in the moment. Not once did she loosen her grip, and he drew strength from her silent support. His free hand reached up briefly to wipe his tear-streaked face, but the tears continued to fall unabated.

He couldn’t stop them, and he didn’t try to anymore.

Standing before the mic, Seungcheol’s voice broke as he began to speak, his raw emotions lacing every word. “The thing I want to say the most,” he said, his tone heavy with longing, “is I miss Jeonghan and Jun so much…” His voice faltered momentarily, the weight of his feelings almost overwhelming him, but he pushed through. “It would’ve been better if all fourteen of us received it together, but I’ll keep these feelings well and relay it to them. Thank you.”

The arena erupted into a mixture of cheers and sobs, Carats’ voices merging into one wave of love and encouragement. Seungcheol nodded once, as though solidifying his promise, and returned to his place in line, still clutching Luna’s hand as if letting go would cause him to crumble.

Luna stood quietly, her expression strained as the mention of Jeonghan and Jun hit her like a wave.

Bittersweet emotions surged through her, tugging at her already fragile composure. She lowered her head, her hair falling like a curtain to shield her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately not to let her tears fall because she knew herself too well.

Once Luna started crying, she wouldn’t be able to stop, and tonight she didn’t want that.

But the ache in her chest only grew. The man who could always comfort her, who knew exactly how to make her laugh even on her darkest days, wasn’t here.

Jeonghan wasn’t here.

Seungcheol glanced at her, noticing the way her shoulders trembled as she fought to maintain control. Without hesitation, he draped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him. Luna turned into him instinctively, burying her face in his chest. Her arms wrapped around his torso, holding on tightly as if seeking solace in his steady heartbeat.

The crowd roared again, their love a balm for the open wounds in their hearts, but the bittersweet air lingered around the group like a fog.

Seungkwan, ever the light in their darkest moments, stepped forward to the microphone. His voice carried a bright energy as he called out, “Woozi hyung! Say a word too.”

He turned to where Woozi stood slightly apart, clutching the trophy tightly in his hands. “Woozi hyung was so nervous just now he was talking to himself. In our team, he’s like a mother who feels full just by watching us eat,” Seungkwan continued, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “He’s really a hyung who always gives generously without holding back, so I want to hear hyung’s thoughts.”

The members turned toward Woozi, whose small frame seemed even smaller as he stood there, crying silently. His shoulders shook as Seungkwan approached and handed him the trophy, offering a reassuring pat on his arm.

Woozi wiped at his tears, but they fell faster than he could brush them away. He exhaled a shaky breath before stepping up to the microphone, his voice breaking as he began to speak.

“Ah, really! Please! Why?!” Woozi cried out, his words breaking into a soft whine. He turned to the other members briefly, his expression equal parts frustration and helplessness as the tears kept coming. “Why is it always like this when receiving awards?”

The members chuckled through their tears, their affection for him evident in their soft smiles and knowing nods.

“I don’t know why our emotions are bursting…” Woozi continued, his voice trembling. “What’s so sorrowful, really…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the trophy in his hands before he tightened his grip on it.

His voice steadied slightly as he continued, though the raw emotion remained palpable. “SEVENTEEN got a big award for two years in a row at MAMA, and we got two this year. This was something that really could’ve never been for us. Imagining is free, but that was something we couldn’t even imagine.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, the other members nodding solemnly as they listened. Tears glistened in their eyes, some freely streaming down their faces as they watched Woozi pour his heart out.

“I’m sorry,” Woozi said, his voice breaking again. “I’m not really someone who speaks this much.” He let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh before adding, “Yesterday was actually my birthday, but because it’s burdensome, I don’t like receiving birthday wishes.”

The crowd erupted into affectionate cheers and cries of but Woozi shook his head with a watery laugh, continuing without pause.

“But receiving an award this good as a birthday gift… there’s no way I can’t like it.” His lips trembled as he smiled faintly, his tears falling faster now. “While making music for the past ten years, I can’t take pride in how I have never once been negligent or careless in studying it. I will continue repaying you until the end of my life.”

Woozi paused, glancing down briefly as though gathering the strength to finish. “It’s a very obvious thing, but I think an idol’s best way of repaying people is with good albums. I will never change, and the fourteen of us will continue steadfastly. Thank you, I love you.”

The crowd erupted into cheers and cries once more, their voices blending into a powerful symphony of love and support. Woozi clutched the trophy tighter, his tears flowing freely now.

Seungkwan, standing beside him, reached out and patted his back gently, offering silent comfort. The rest of the members watched with tear-filled eyes, their expressions a mix of pride and understanding as they absorbed Woozi’s heartfelt words.

Seungcheol’s arm stayed secure around Luna as he gently stroked her hair, his touch tender, grounding her. His other hand lightly patted her arm, still wrapped firmly around his, offering her the silent reassurance she needed. Luna’s head remained pressed against his chest as she absorbed the warmth of his presence.

Before Luna could lose herself completely in her thoughts, they both heard Seungkwan’s voice over the mic.

“Noona… do you want to say anything?”

The question drew their attention, and Luna felt Seungcheol gently gesture her forward with his free hand, urging her to speak. She hesitated, the emotions swirling within her still too raw, but the encouraging look on Seungcheol’s face gave her the push she needed.

“Aigo… she’s also crying,” Seungkwan joked, his lighthearted comment drawing soft laughter from the audience and the members. The playful tease made Luna chuckle through her tears, and she reluctantly detached herself from Seungcheol’s comforting hold, stepping forward with a small smile on her face.

As she reached the mic, Woozi handed her the trophy, his face red and tear-streaked but glowing with pride. Luna accepted it with both hands, her expression softening as she glanced at the members behind her. Her voice, however, carried a playful lilt as she turned to the audience and joked, “I’m not crying. Do I look like I’m crying?”

The crowd erupted into laughter at the irony, given her glistening red eyes and flushed cheeks. Her attempt at humor broke the emotional tension for a brief moment, drawing laughter from the members as well. She smiled wider, shaking her head before adding, “I’m not gonna cry today because I want to be cool.”

The lighthearted remark earned more laughter, and Luna couldn’t help but laugh along with them. Her shoulders relaxed as the weight of the moment started to settle into something manageable.

But as she continued, her tone turned earnest, “I just want to make you guys laugh. Carats, I can see some of you crying. Please don’t cry. Today is a happy day. A very happy day.”

She paused, stepping back slightly from the mic, her gaze sweeping over the faces of her members. Her smile softened into something radiant and beautiful, a reflection of the love she held for the people standing beside her. Her eyes met each of theirs, and the warmth in their expressions mirrored her own.

“I’m proud of us,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the tremble in her hands.

The crowd erupted into loud cheers, the sound wrapping around her like a warm embrace.

Luna laughed lightly, her eyes welling up again despite her earlier resolve. “I’m proud of us. I’m proud of myself. I’m proud of Cheollie, Joshie, Soonie, Woo, Jihoonie, Hao, Gyu-gyu, Kyeomie, Kwanie, Nonie, Channie, and of course Hannie and Junnie.”

Her voice cracked as she mentioned Jeonghan and Jun, and a single tear slid down her cheek. She tried to brush it away quickly, chuckling through the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her.

“I’m not crying, I promise,” she joked again, though her voice wavered as she choked back a sob. Her attempt to lighten the mood made the fans and members laugh, but their own eyes glistened as they watched her fight through her emotions.

She took a deep breath and continued, “As we stand here right now, accepting this award, only one thing comes to mind. It’s that right now we aren’t the SEVENTEEN who are in their late twenties and are in their ninth year. It’s as if right now we are the timid teens who could only dream about receiving an award like this.”

Tears began to fall freely now, each word bringing a fresh wave of emotion that she couldn’t hold back. She turned to the members, her face streaked with tears, and asked in a small voice, “What do I do?”

Her question was met with immediate action. Mingyu and Seungcheol moved to either side of her, their hands patting her back gently as they offered quiet comfort. The rest of the members quickly surrounded her from behind, forming a protective circle as if shielding her from the overwhelming emotions of the moment.

“I still remember when we were at our first award show where we didn’t win anything, we were just happy to be invited, and now we are here, almost ten years later, receiving two Daesangs in one night… I’m proud of us, really.”

Luna’s voice broke again as she spoke, and she paused to collect herself, her gaze drifting over the crowd before settling on the members around her.

“I am also proud of our Carats who have been keeping us steady through the hard times this year. This year hasn’t been easy. A lot of bad and a lot of good. My only wish is that next year will be a little bit kinder to everyone. We promise to work harder for you guys and for Hannie and Jun, who I know are watching right now… I love and miss you two so much. Thank you.”

She bowed deeply, her form trembling as she fought to regain control of her emotions. As she moved away from the mic, she quickly wiped at her tears with the back of her hand, but before she could fully compose herself, Dokyeom stepped forward.

“Come here,” he said softly, his warm smile a balm to her raw emotions as he gently wiped her tears with his hands. Wonwoo followed, patting her head affectionately while Seungcheol and Mingyu remained on either side of her, their presence steady and grounding.

Wonwoo adjusted the mic slightly, leaning in as his calm voice rang out, “Thank you!” His words were simple but carried the weight of his sincerity, and the crowd erupted into applause.

Seungkwan then added, “Thank you so much, really. In the future, we’ll work hard!” He offered a small smile, his genuine demeanor only emphasizing the heartfelt nature of his words.

Then, Seungcheol, ever the leader, took the mic with steady hands, his voice firm yet warm. “It’s been SEVENTEEN. Say the name…”

The members immediately joined in, their voices strong as they performed their signature hand gesture and shouted in unison, “SEVENTEEN!” They bowed deeply toward the crowd before finishing together, “Thank you!”

“Thank you so much to our staff,” Seungkwan spoke again, a gesture echoed by the rest of the group.

“Carats, I love you,” Mingyu added, his voice filled with emotion as he followed. His face broke into a radiant smile as he glanced toward the fans, his love for them evident in every word.

The members closed in tighter, forming a huddle as Luna slipped her arms around Seungcheol and Mingyu’s waists. Their collective warmth was a tangible reminder of their bond, a silent promise that they would continue to lean on one another no matter what came next.

As the members remained in their tight huddle, the crowd cheered louder, their love and pride for SEVENTEEN filling the venue. The crowd’s cheers reached a deafening roar, a wave of love and pride that wrapped around them like a warm embrace. They stood together, united as one, soaking in the moment before ending the night.

The cheers and music of the 2024 MAMA Awards faded into the background as the show came to a close. SEVENTEEN stood united onstage for one last bow before they retreated, their hearts brimming with pride and emotions still raw from the night’s triumphs.

As they stepped backstage, a whirlwind of activity greeted them. Their staff and team members erupted in cheers and applause, filling the air with congratulatory shouts and infectious energy. The members were immediately engulfed in hugs, pats on the back, and words of praise.

Their production team followed close behind, cameras rolling to capture every moment for future content, whether for YouTube or official documentary-style footage. Photographers clicked away, immortalizing the members holding their trophies, their eyes sparkling despite the exhaustion settling in.

In the dressing room, the energy remained electric.

The members posed for group photos, laughing and playfully adjusting each other’s outfits. Luna, with a grin that stretched ear to ear, stood at the center of one photo, cradling a trophy. She switched between group shots and solo moments with the trophies, her genuine joy lighting up each frame.

Hoshi and Seungkwan joked about how she was still the prettiest despite sobbing her makeup off, prompting her to laugh before finally setting the trophy down.

Once the formalities wound down, Luna’s attention immediately darted to her phone. She picked it up and stepped to the side, her fingers swiftly tapping the screen to initiate a video call.

It barely rang once before the familiar face of Jeonghan appeared on the screen, his smile lazy yet warm, as if he had been waiting for her call all night.

The sight of him caused Luna’s heart to skip a beat. The chaotic energy surrounding her melted away, and she immediately felt lighter, her exhaustion replaced by a soothing sense of calm.

“How’s my Artist of the Year?” Jeonghan asked, his voice carrying that familiar teasing lilt as he smirked knowingly.

Luna chuckled, shaking her head as she plopped into a makeup chair. “I feel amazing, my Artist of the Year,” she quipped back, the warmth in her tone matching his.

Jeonghan’s smirk softened into a smile, and his quiet chuckle carried through the phone. “We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?”

Luna propped her phone against the mirror, angling it carefully so she could talk to him while undoing her hair. She began removing the pins, placing them methodically on the counter. “The best pair,” she agreed, shooting him a small smile as her fingers worked through her hair.

Jeonghan’s sharp eyes didn’t miss a thing. His gaze softened as he noticed her smudged eye makeup from crying earlier. “You cried so hard,” he pointed out gently, his voice dropping to a soft coo as he watched her before he teased. “You’re so emotional lately, angel.”

Luna rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her smile. “I tried my hardest not to cry! But you know how it is… The moment I started it just hit me and I couldn’t stop.”

Jeonghan nodded in understanding, his tone patient. “I know, baby. But you’re so cute when you cry. I wish I could’ve been there to wipe your tears.”

Luna paused briefly to give him a mock glare, pulling out the last pin from her hair. “That’s not helping,” she muttered, though the fondness in her voice betrayed her words.

Jeonghan chuckled again, his voice warm. “Sorry, sorry. You did so well, though. I was watching the whole time. You were incredible up there. I’m so proud of you.”

His words made Luna’s cheeks warm, and she busied herself by slipping the rings off her fingers, setting them beside the pins. The only ones left were their team pinky ring and her engagement ring, which she twisted absently as she glanced at him.

“Thank you, Han,” she murmured, her voice soft. “I did my best.”

Jeonghan nodded, his eyes following her every movement as she began removing her makeup. “That speech, though. It was perfect. You always know how to say the right things.”

She paused, smiling slightly as she wiped away the remnants of her eyeliner. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Jeonghan replied, his voice unwavering. “You’re amazing, my moon. Every single day, you amaze me.”

“And you say I have a way with words.” Luna shook her head lightly, her laugh soft as she focused on cleaning her face.

Behind her, Hoshi suddenly popped into view, waving enthusiastically at Jeonghan.

“Hyung! Did you see me tonight?” Hoshi asked loudly, grinning.

Jeonghan smirked, tilting his head slightly. “You mean your hip thrust during ‘Ash’? Of course, I did.”

Hoshi preened under the compliment before Luna shooed him off with a laugh. “Okay, okay, go change already!”

“Fine, fine! Hi and bye, hyung!” Hoshi waved dramatically before disappearing again.

The interruptions didn’t stop there. Dokyeom appeared next, leaning over Luna’s shoulder to wave at Jeonghan. “Hyung, we need to hang out! Just the two of us.”

Jeonghan raised a brow. “You miss me that much?”

“Of course,” Dokyeom grinned before Luna nudged him away.

“Go change, Kyeomie!” she scolded playfully with a pout, laughing as Dokyeom wandered off.

As the room quieted down again, Luna sighed, leaning closer to the mirror to check her reflection. Jeonghan’s voice pulled her attention back. “You’re glowing,” he said softly, his tone sincere.

She glanced at him through the screen, her smile returning. “You always know what to say,” she murmured.

Jeonghan’s smile widened slightly, his voice gentle. “And I’ll keep saying it, as long as it makes you smile.”

The rest of the room began to hum with activity again as the members busied themselves changing and tidying up, but Luna and Jeonghan remained in their own little bubble, their connection unwavering despite the distance between them.

The conversation between the two flowed naturally, carrying a comforting sense of ease and intimacy that only came with years of being together. Even as Luna shifted in her seat, preparing to step away to change into more casual clothes, she hesitated. “I should go change,” she murmured reluctantly, glancing at Jeonghan through the phone screen.

Jeonghan’s eyes softened, his smile reassuring. “Take the phone with you,” he said casually, leaning back in his chair. “Just close the camera if you want. I’ll wait.”

Luna laughed softly, shaking her head. “You don’t have to stay on the call while I’m changing, Hannie.”

“I want to,” he replied easily, his voice steady and comforting. “I don’t want to hang up yet.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and she felt a familiar warmth settle over her. “Alright,” she relented with a small smile. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Nana-ya,” Jeonghan promised, his tone light but sincere.

Luna propped the phone on the nearby counter, angling it so Jeonghan wouldn’t see anything as she began to change. She could still hear his voice through the speaker as he filled the quiet with soft humming and the occasional playful comment.

“Is it weird that I find your breathing as you struggle to unzip your dress attractive?” he teased lightly.

Luna chuckled as she slipped out of her dress, reaching for her more comfortable clothes, not at all shocked that Jeonghan knew what she was doing just by the sound of her breathing. “Not weird,” she said. “Just proves you’ve been paying attention all these years.”

“You’re unforgettable,” he said smoothly, the grin evident in his voice.

Luna rolled her eyes fondly as she pulled on her hoodie. “You’re impossible,” she shot back, her tone lighthearted.

Jeonghan laughed, and the sound was a balm to her exhaustion. “Yet you love me.”

“Unfortunately,” Luna quipped, zipping up her jacket before finally picking up the phone again.

She settled back into the makeup chair, her expression softer now. “Okay, your turn to entertain me while I wait for the others to finish changing.”

Jeonghan tilted his head, pretending to think. “What do you want to hear, baby? Should I tell you how perfect you looked on stage? Or maybe how your speech almost made me tear up, but I held it together because I’m supposed to be the composed one out of the two of us?”

Luna laughed, leaning her chin on her hand. “All of the above sounds good. Go on.”

The members began filtering back into the room, grabbing their things and preparing to leave, but Luna remained in her little world with Jeonghan.

Even as they made their way to the car, he stayed on the line.

“Don’t hang up,” she said quietly, slipping into the vehicle and settling into the corner seat.

“I wasn’t planning to,” Jeonghan reassured her, his voice soft as ever.

The call remained active as the car pulled away, and Luna sighed, leaning her head against the window. The night’s events were finally catching up to her, and a wave of exhaustion hit. Her eyes fluttered shut, the phone still balanced in her lap.

Jeonghan didn’t say anything, watching her quietly through the screen. His expression softened at the sight of her, the light on her face, her hair still slightly tousled from the rush of the evening. The sound of her breathing, even and calm, was enough to bring a small, contented smile to his lips.

The car hit a gentle turn, and Luna’s eyes blinked open. She glanced at the phone screen and caught Jeonghan watching her. Her gaze, tired but full of affection, locked with his. “I miss you,” she murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jeonghan’s smile grew, and his tone turned even gentler as if speaking to a child. “I know, baby,” he cooed, his voice low and soothing. “I miss you, too. But it’s okay. We’ll see each other tomorrow, hmm?”

Luna let out a small hum of acknowledgment, her eyelids drooping again. “I want you here,” she admitted, the vulnerability in her tone tugging at Jeonghan’s heart.

“I know, my pretty moon,” he said, his voice wrapping around her like a warm blanket. “But tomorrow, you’ll be back in Korea, and I’ll be waiting for you. You know I’ll always be here.”

Her lips curled into a faint smile at his words, and she let out a quiet sigh. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Jeonghan said firmly, his voice unwavering. “And since I have the weekend off, we’ll do whatever you want. Just you and me, okay?”

Luna nodded slowly, her eyes closing once more. ��Okay,” she whispered.

Jeonghan stayed on the line, his voice a steady presence as he hummed softly, occasionally murmuring words of reassurance.

Even miles apart, his love for her was palpable, filling the quiet space between them. Luna didn’t have to say anything; his presence, even through a phone screen, was enough.

Soon, Luna found herself with the rest of the members in the restaurant for their dinner.

The restaurant was bustling with the faint hum of conversation and clinking utensils when SEVENTEEN and Luna entered. Their reserved room at the back provided a quieter space for the group to unwind after the overwhelming evening.

Luna, still clutching her phone tightly, smiled at Jeonghan’s face on the screen as they settled into their seats. She propped the phone against the water glass in front of her so he could see her clearly.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow at her stubbornness. “Nana-ya,” he said softly, amusement lacing his tone, “you’re going to eat, right? Not stare at me the entire time?”

Luna leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm as she gave him a sleepy smile. “I can do both,” she teased. “You’re not hanging up, Hannie. Don’t even try.”

“You’re really going to keep me here while you eat?” he asked, pretending to be exasperated, though the corners of his lips twitched upward.

“I don’t want to hang up,” Luna said, her voice soft but firm. “I want you here, and this is the next best thing.”

Her honesty, tinged with drowsiness, made Jeonghan chuckle. “Alright, alright. But I don’t want you to feel distracted. Focus on your food, okay?”

“I will.” She nodded, glancing briefly at the menu the waiter placed before her.

Across the table, the members were glancing at her phone with knowing smiles but chose not to interfere.

They were used to Luna’s clinginess, especially when she was tired, and if it meant she got to keep Jeonghan close, even virtually, they weren’t about to stop her.

As the waiter took their orders, Luna kept Jeonghan in the loop. “Hannie, I’m getting the spicy stew. Should I get something for you?” she joked, her lips quirking up.

Jeonghan rolled his eyes, amused. “Sure, send it over with a side of your award-winning speech,” he quipped, his voice warm and teasing.

Luna giggled, shaking her head. “I’d do it if I could.”

While waiting for the food, the members engaged in casual chatter. Hoshi was animatedly recounting a moment from the award show, and Seungkwan chimed in with his signature wit.

Luna added her comments here and there, but her focus remained on the phone, occasionally glancing down at the screen to find Jeonghan watching her with fond amusement.

“You’re making me hungry just watching you eat,” Jeonghan teased when the food arrived, and Luna dug into her stew with gusto.

“Then grab yourself something,” she shot back without missing a beat, her tone playful.

“I would, but I’m busy being held hostage on this call,” he said, the smirk on his face betraying his amusement.

Luna rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re not going anywhere, so you might as well sit there and watch me enjoy my meal.”

Jeonghan chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re something else, you know that? I love you so much.”

“I love you the most.” Luna replied.

The members chimed in with their own conversations, the room filled with laughter and light-hearted teasing. Luna participated occasionally, but her focus remained divided between her food and Jeonghan, whose steady presence on the screen made the night feel less lonely.

When the meal was finished, and everyone was relaxing with their drinks or dessert, Seungkwan clapped his hands together. “Guys, before we leave, let’s take a group photo. We’ve got to commemorate tonight.”

Luna perked up at the suggestion, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten. She glanced at Jeonghan on the screen. “You’re already here, so you’re joining us for this.”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh, am I? How exactly are we pulling that off?”

“You sound like a fossil,” Luna said mischievously, picking up her phone.

The members decided to loop in Jun, hoping he wasn’t too busy. After a few rings, Jun’s face appeared on Joshua’s phone, his expression lighting up at the sight of his friends. “Hey, everyone! Congratulations to us! What’s going on?”

A chorus of greetings erupted, their voices overlapping as they filled him in on their dinner plans. Jun’s smile widened. “Wish I could be there with you guys. How’s everything?”

“Good,” Mingyu said, grinning. “We’re just about to take a group photo. You’re joining us.”

Jun laughed. “Of course. Let me get ready.”

The staff moved to position the camera, and everyone quickly returned to their seats. Luna held her phone up, angling it so Jeonghan’s face was visible. Across from her, Joshua did the same with Jun.

The room buzzed with warmth as the group settled in, some leaning closer to the phones to make sure everyone could be seen.

For a brief moment, everything felt whole.

All fourteen of them were present, even if it wasn’t physical.

Luna glanced at Jeonghan on her screen, her heart swelling with gratitude. Despite the distance, they always found a way to come together.

As the camera clicked, capturing the moment, Luna couldn’t help but think about the day’s victories— their awards, the laughter, and the love that tied them all together.

Fourteen hearts, fourteen stories, intertwined in a way that nothing could break.

Even when apart, they were never truly separated.

This was their strength, their bond, their forever.

ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUEST AND ASK ME ANYTHING!

: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡ - lunaఌ

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doki-doki-imagines · 1 year ago

Note

Happy new Year! I wanted to request an Reader with healing powers by touching,healing the boys of Mortal Kombat pls?

author note: Thanks! Happy new Year to you too!! As someone studying to become a doctor this request is a little to perfect LOL. feat. Earthrealm guys for my own sanity this time, but if you want you can also ask for Outworld ones.

Johnny Cage: -He doesn't believe in your powers AT ALL. -I'm not saying Johnny can't wait to hurt himself, because pain sucks, but he may get a bit careless… -He's gonna cut his finger with paper, the most stupid wound that sting like a bitch. -He visits you, you don't laugh at him, just touch his index with yours and…voilà! No wounds anymore. -He is stunned, mouth open. You absolutely need to come to Hollywood and let people pay, you know how rich you can get?? -Johnny will be attached to your hips, wounds or not. If he can't get you out your clinic he wants at least a date with the cute doctor.

Kenshi Takahashi: -He visited you after the Mileena accident. -Sadly you can't regrow new eyes, being able to heal just from tissue that is alive. -That doesn't mean you can't help him soothing his pain! Or decrease the itch he feels from the skin that grew there. -Kenshi visits you frequently, not just for medical reasons but also to share a cup of tea together, your chats a relaxing moment during frenzy times.

Raiden: -He doesn't visit you often, but when Raiden does he has a kind voice, even with broken bones and teared skin. -Luckily most of the time Raiden wounds aren't that serious, but he tends to prolong his stay in your clinic. -At times he felt asleep on the bed, heavy breath and some times snores. -He is so cute you never wake him up, but pulling a cover on his body to keep him warm and comfortable.

Kung Lao: -He has never been proud of the wounds and scar that he has, but at least now Lao can see the positive side of the bruises; visiting you. -You don't say he is dumb, and treats him with utmost care, your soft fingers on his skin make his heartrate speed up terribly. -Lao hopes you don't notice, hiding his real emotions under puns and flirty jokes. -You can totally feel Lao's heart, but find him cute, trying to sputter out puns to make you laugh, so you let him act.

Liu Kang: -He asked you to help at Wu Shi Academy because he knew about your powers. -Liu Kang made sure you had a tiny house of your own, separated from training grounds, but near enough to run to you in case of emergency. -He doesn't suffer of any injury, but he often visits you to ask if you are fine, just chit chatting about your days. -Every time Liu Kang visits you he brings a present, each time it gets more expensive. Maybe one day you'll pick up the signals, or maybe you could heal his broken courage; it has been awhile since Liu Kang asked someone out.

Geras: -He also doesn't need any kind of healing, but when someone is wounded he runs to you. -Most of the time you talk about work, you tried to pry informations about the you of other timelines but Geras never budges. -So you started to gossip with him, useless stuff, but you know he'll never tell the secrets out. -He listens to you, already knowing everything, but Geras enjoys your company so he sits still, your voice almost lulling him.

Bi-Han: -Doesn't trust you, he has never heard of healing magic. -But there you are, on your knees, him laying on the ground, your fingers repairing every cut, every wounds on his body with a mere touch. -Bi-Han starts to visit you more often, he wants to know your secret, the Lin Kuei's doctors could only improve with your guide. -You laugh at his proposal, telling him this is a gift you have since you were born and that you prefer your magic to be of everyone usage, not only his ninjas. -He scowls and exits your house. But Bi-Han won't give up, he'll convince you one day, he is sure of it.

Kuai Liang: -He doesn't have the time to have doubts about your powers because the first time Liang heard of you is the time you are healing him. -Now it is too late to heal his face scar, but for sure you can help him with his other wounds. -Liang begs you to join Shirai Ryu, but you refuse "You are good people, but my power is for everybody, not just your clan." -He accepts it…and trasfer Shirai Ryu base near your house, enough that if his men needs help you'll be right there. -And maybe Liang would be able to visit you not only for work matters…

Tomas Vrbada: -He visits you mostly because everybody is talking about your powers. -Tomas brings food, while you prepare a hot beverage for you two. You chat about your days, 'till Tomas finally asks you the question that has been wandering in his head for too long. -"So, are your powers real?" -You smirk into the cup, but don't reply. You take a knife and do a small cut on the back of your hand, you are so fast that Tomas cannot stop you. -He cannot also because the moment a drop of blood spill the wound has already healed itself. -Tomas is astonished, wide eyes. -"You are so damn cool." -You hope he'll visit you more often, you enjoys his company. Let's hope Tomas will never come for working matters, tho.

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perpetuallyburntout · 6 months ago

Text

S4!Five Hargreeves x Reader

Strawberry Blonde - Mitski

‼️SPOILER WARNING FOR SEASON FOUR OF UMBRELLA ACADEMY BELOW THE CUT‼️

Okay so I know I wasn’t the only person absolutely crushed by season four of Umbrella Academy, but in the middle of grieving over it, I had the best/worst idea. Technically a fanfic idea, but I don’t know if I have the commitment to write the whole thing, so if someone else would like to, by all means :)

The events of season four start six years after the end of season three. Six years of (mostly) peace. Let’s just say Five met someone in that time (for the sake of making sense, I’ll refer to them as Lover). Met someone he found himself falling for. And they fell for him, too. And it was perfect. And for the first time in a painfully long time, Five was happy. Content. He had his suspicions about how long this peace would last, but… for now, things were good. More than good, they were wonderful. He’d met the love of his life.

And then the events of season four begin to happen. And Lover is there with the group the whole time. At this point, they’re family, too. They want to help, and Five wants them to stay close to him.

Until he and Lila decide to go on their own on the subway, leaving Lover with the others. And in the seven years Five and Lila are stuck together, the same thing happens. And when they finally return, Lover knows something is off. And when the truth comes out, their whole world comes crashing down.

Diego grows angry. Lover just grows somber. It’s even worse, because when they look at Five again, his expression is different. The aching love that used to shine in his eyes whenever he looked at them… it’s dulled to something faint. Still there, deep down, but… unsure. As if he’s questioning himself. Questioning what he should do now. Who he’d pick if given the choice.

Of course, he’s not given the choice. Not even the choice to take Lover far away and talk to them and really explain and try to do something. No, no… the world’s ending. For the final time. And he knows how to make sure it never comes to an end ever again.

Lover’s there for the entire conversation. Every bit of grief and anger they’d felt towards Five suddenly melts away, replaced by desperation. They’d let the world end for the rest of eternity if… if it meant maybe things could be different. If it meant maybe he’d love them, and maybe he’d never love anyone else besides them.

They’re eventually forced to leave with Lila’s family and get on the subway. And while everyone else is confused and emotional, they’re curled on the ground, gasping and sobbing, knowing what this means.

And the Hargreeves stop the world from ending. And all the timelines reset. And everyone else in the world gets their happy ending.

And Lover thinks they’re happy. They do. But they never fall in love again. For some reason, every time they think they find someone, an aching pain in their chest makes them hesitate. An unfamiliar voice calling their name makes them pause. A flash of something, perhaps a memory, too fast to register but not fast enough to ignore the heart wrenching pain of, makes them withdraw. It’s almost as if…

They’re waiting for someone that never existed.

°。°。°。°。°。°。

So! When I had this idea, I was listening to Strawberry Blonde by Mitski, and here’s how the lyrics played out in my head:

I love everybody because I love you

When you stood up, walked away, barefoot

And the grass where you lay left a bed in your shape

I looked over it and I ached

(12:00 PM. August 8th, 2024. Lover’s enjoying their day in the park, sitting in the grass, eyes shut against the light breeze and warm sun. They turn to their side, almost as if to tell someone about how lovely the weather is. But no one’s there. A weird pain begins to ache in their heart.)

I love everybody because I love you

I don't need the city, and I don't need proof

All I need, darling, is a life in your shape

I picture it, soft and I ache

(Others—perhaps friends or family—come over and greet Lover, noticing their confused and distant expression, and ask what’s wrong. Nothing, they say, though they can’t escape the deep longing in their chest for… something that was never there.)

Look at you, strawberry blond

(Flashback timeeee- or… alternate timeline time? Flashback to a time in an alternate timeline, there we go.)

Reach out the car window tryna hold the wind

You tell me you love her, I give you a grin

Oh, all I ever wanted was a life in your shape

So I follow the white lines, follow the white lines

Keep my eyes on the road as I ache

(Shows Five and Lover together, in love, making memories together. Happy.)

Look at you, strawberry blond

Fields rolling on

I love it when you call my name

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm?

Watching your arm

I love it when you look my way

Look at you, strawberry blond

Fields rolling on

I love it when you call my name

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm?

Watching your arm

I love it when you look my way

(Events of season four began to play out, but ofc with Lover being part of the story.)

Look at you, strawberry blond

Fields rolling on

I love it when you call my name

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm?

Watching your arm

I love it when you look my way

(The climax of the story. Flashes of the last two episodes. Five and Lila returning, the explanation, the heartbreak, Five finding out how to save the world for good, Lover meeting his gaze one last time as the subway pulls away forever.)

Isaiah, Isaiah, Isaiah

(Lover repeating his name to themself, trying to remember for as long as possible, not able to let go.)

Isaiah, Isaiah, Isaiah

(Flashback ends, returns to Lover in the grass on that sunny day, murmuring the name to themself. They’re not quite sure why.)

°。°。°。°。°。°。

I hope you all enjoyed this little idea! I got a little rambly and wrote WAY MORE than I planned on, but it’s an idea I’ve fallen in love with this past hour and I wanted to be able to share it with all of you <3

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dollfacefantasy · 16 days ago

Text

TELL ME WHEN YOU HEAR MY HEART STOP ♡

pairing: naoya zen'in x fem!reader

summary: today's a very special day for you and naoya, and he plans to celebrate it with a very special gift.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, dubcon, kidnapping/captivity, drugging, stockholm syndrome, p in v, fingering, breeding kink, puppy play, misogyny, mentions of spanking, corporal punishment, and psychological torture stuff

a/n: birthday gift for my sweet wonderful friend who i love so very much @nexysworld <3 also!! imagine naoya as a few years older than his canon age for the timeline in this story to work.

“Naoya taking a wife… I never thought I’d see the day.”

The sound of Jinichi’s voice speaking his name drew Naoya’s attention to the two men walking several feet ahead of him on the stone path. His golden eyes flitted from the blue sky above to the pair of them, narrowing as he focused on hearing the next part of the conversation.

“It’s not that shocking,” Ogi replied, “He’s the future head of the clan. There’s no way Naobito would let him fail to produce an heir. Even if the old man had to find some bitch to pay off, the kid was always going to get married.”

“That’s true, but don’t you find it the least bit odd? Seeing him at events with some girl on his arm now? Before, he could never shut up about how the women shouldn’t even be allowed at those things. To be honest with you, I always thought he swung the other way,” Jinichi added.

“Well, yeah. But look at her. If he was ever gonna wed a woman, it was gonna be one like her. Quiet as a mouse. Moves through rooms like a scrap of silk in the wind. Doesn’t go anywhere without him,” Ogi reasoned.

“I don’t think that’s her choice,” the other man quipped.

Ogi shrugged. “Maybe not, but she goes along with it. I only wonder if she’s always been so naturally obedient or if the kid beat it into her.”

Gritting his teeth, Naoya had enough of listening to this. He sped up to catch his relatives. Once within arm’s length, he laid a hand upon Jinichi’s shoulder and pulled him around. His lips curled into a sneer upon making eye contact.

The sudden tug shocked the older Zen’in, his brows raising and lips pausing around the word they had been forming. Ogi followed his direction and came to face the future head of the clan as well. The three of them stood there for a moment. Naoya let them have a few seconds to register that he’d heard their conversation.

“I’ve never thought of either of you as intelligent, but I thought you smarter than thinking it was acceptable to disparage your future clan leader out in the open like this,” he said.

“Our words weren’t intended to be negative, Naoya. We didn’t mean to upset you,” Jinichi started.

“Because you didn’t think I would hear,” he shot back.

From the looks on the two faces in front of him, it was clear the men weren’t afraid of Naoya. That irritated him of course. He wanted all of them to fear him, to feel that if they so much as put him in a bad mood, they would suffer. But the emotion he did see on their features satisfied him enough to prevent that from being a pressing issue.

The gleam in both Jinichi and Ogi’s eyes told him they respected his rank. They may hate him and believe him to be nothing more than Naobito’s spoiled-rotten son, but they accepted the fact that there was nothing they could do about it. And he almost liked that more.

“But really? The implication that I have to lay hands on my betrothed to receive her submission wasn’t meant to be an insult?” he mocked, “The idea that my father would have to pay some woman to be my wife wasn’t said to demean me? I don’t believe that for a second.”

“They were just jokes,” Ogi defended, “How you deal with your woman is your business.”

“Oh, I know it is. How I discipline her is of no concern to you, but do you really think I would have chosen someone so unruly to spend my life with?” he questioned.

“It’s just that you have such high standards-” Jinichi stated.

“I do have high standards. And she meets every single one,” Naoya cut him off, “You two don’t have to explain any further. I’ve already decided to forgive you because I know the root of all of this is jealousy. Ogi, I can tell you wish there was some way you could trade in your wife for mine. Someone young and fresh. Eager and passionate. Not dried up and drained of any personality from more than a decade of dealing with you.

“And Jinichi. Have you ever even been with a girl? I’m sure if my wife took the time to so much as smile at you, she’d have you trailing her like a drooling dog. So please, spare me your judgements about her being ‘quiet’ or shy or whatever you think. There simply isn’t much to say when the company is made up of people like you two,” he finished.

The both of them blinked at Naoya in return, unsure of what to say in response to the scathing words. Arguing would probably cause a blow up that would draw the attention of Naobito, but cowering would inflate the young man’s already super-sized ego. Luckily for them, Naoya continued speaking before they had to make a decision.

“Either way, it’s all water under the bridge. I know you two won’t make this mistake again,” he smiled, “But in case you need the reminder, don’t ever utter the word ‘bitch’ in a discussion about my wife. And if I hear you calling me kid again, you’ll find yourself feeling sorely out of place when I take mine as head of this clan.”

This time Naoya didn’t bother waiting for a potential reply before pushing through them and continuing his walk. The pathway fell into serene silence now that it wasn’t polluted by their annoying chatter. Birds chirped in the trees above while a gentle Spring breeze rustled the hedges on either side of him.

He let out a soft sigh as he turned a corner as his shared suite came into view in the distance. Never did Naoya think he’d see the day where he defended a woman so valiantly. Though that was the crux of why he did it he supposed. You weren’t just some woman. You were his. His bride-to-be, his beloved, his special girl. The only person of the female persuasion he’d let walk one pace behind him instead of three.

God, it was ridiculous. Even thinking of you now made his heart race. He envisioned your sweet, sparkling eyes. Your cute lips that tasted like the richest wine in the world. That luscious body below that gave him wet dreams like he was a horny teenager.

He sighed, longing for you even though he’d be in your presence in a matter of seconds. No matter how often he saw you, it seemed it was never enough. If he could, he’d blow off all his duties around here and stay with you for the entire day.

Opening the miniature gates to his suite, he walked across the paved path to a small wooden staircase. He headed up the three steps and finally reached the doorway that would lead to you.

Upon entering his home, he slipped off his shoes and took a glance in the nearby mirror to make sure his hair was in place. On the thin end table against the wall was a pile of wedding invitations. The sight of them brought a smirk to his lips. Save the date! Mr. and Mrs. Zen’in would like to invite you… scrawled in elegant calligraphy and bordered in gold trim.

“Sweetheart, I’m home,” he called through the house.

He waited a few seconds for the sound of you rushing towards him. That phrase served the same purpose as a whistle to a trained hound. He’d taught you well over the last year. Everyday when he said those words, he could count on you to come to him, to ask about his day, and check on what he needed.

Only today, he didn’t hear the pitter-patter of your footsteps.

His eyebrow raised. In an instant, his body tensed, his lips set into a scowl. He tried telling himself you could be temporarily occupied. Maybe you were taking a bath or had fallen asleep for an afternoon nap. You could just be watching tv or listening to some music that muffled the sound of his voice.

He knew it was probably one of those, but his mind couldn’t help going to the worst place. That you had escaped.

His fist clenched by his sides. He bit the inside of his cheek. Walking further into your shared home, his eyes glanced around to look for any immediate signs of your departure. So far there was nothing. All the furniture was in place, no windows had been left ajar, one of your jackets draped across the back of an armchair.

She knows better now, he thought to himself. Last time you’d tried leaving two months ago, he had hoped it would be the last time. He’d caught you tumbling from the bedroom window while coming home to fetch a paper he’d forgotten. If he found out you’d pulled the vanishing act again today, he’d make the fury he’d felt in that moment seem like minor irritation.

When you tried leaving out the window, the two of you had locked eyes as you clambered off the ground. It would have been kind of cute if he wasn’t so pissed, the way he could see the realization in your eyes that you had majorly fucked up. You tried running, but Naoya was fast. He had you by the back of the neck in seconds, his nails digging into your tender skin.

“My little puppy felt like exploring outside her crate, hm?” he’d asked with barely constrained rage, “You know you’re supposed to ask for permission to do that. You’re not allowed to wander on your own yet.”

Naoya always ended his rules in yet even though he wasn’t sure if he actually planned on ever giving you the freedoms he currently forbade. A small part of him believed that the false hope would inspire your obedience better than direct punishments would. Not that it stopped him from giving you regular punishment though. That day he dragged you back into the house and spanked you till your ass was raw. You wouldn’t have been able to run for a light jog after that. It left you crying for nearly a whole day, so he had hoped it would have been a lasting lesson.

He continued to prowl through the house like a fox hunting its prey. Gliding into the kitchen, he again saw nothing out of the ordinary. You even had the oven on. He wanted that to be enough to put him at ease, but he couldn’t let himself relax. You might have left it on intending to burn the house down.

From there he slipped into the hall. You weren’t in any of the rooms off that walkway, so he headed for the stairs. He moved up them in silence. If you were still here, he didn’t want you to know his exact location. Paranoia had fully taken root. It wasn’t just escape that worried him now. Maybe you had figured out that never worked. You could have graduated to planning an attack. That wouldn’t work either, but he wouldn’t put it past you. For all the times you’d wailed about wanting to kill him, he didn’t believe logic factored into these little rebellions.

God, what if you had found the propofol in his nightstand. He kept it unlabeled, but you’d probably recognize that milky liquid by now. You could have found the syringes in his sock drawer too while doing the laundry.

Shit. Shit. Shit. You could be waiting, tucked behind a corner, ready to jab him in the throat like he’d done to you a year ago. In his defense though, you actually needed it. You were so upset that night, it bordered on hysterical. He’d come over to keep you company because even though he’d only been with you for a year, he’d known you much longer.

You were Toji’s girlfriend.

He’d met you while trying to track him down years before. The day he spotted you, his eyes had been trying to find his older cousin on a crowded city street. Instead they landed on you. Back then, you had a real baby face. Your eyes shined under the rays like they'd never known a cloudy day. The delicate daylight made your skin glow and your features appear softer. He felt drawn to you. It was like fate that you happened to be hanging off Toji’s arm.

Naoya had become friends with both of you. Hanging out with Toji was great because he was Toji. Naoya would have had fun with him if they just sat there and stared at each other. But shocking to everyone including himself, he actually liked you. He acted polite towards you, friendly even. He naturally smiled when you laughed. His eyes watched you during conversation. He took interest in the things you said.

In his mind, he maintained that he still didn’t like the company of women for the most part. But if Toji took an interest in you, there must have been something that made you worthwhile.

He fell in love with you silently. It was a feeling he never planned to act on. He would never betray his cousin like that. Instead, he’d just observe you in awe from a distance. He’d resign himself to only being your friend. Cousin-in-law if it came to that.

But then Toji died.

It left you devastated. Naoya felt hollowed out too, of course. He never thought he’d see Toji die. Part of him didn’t even believe that was possible. But even in comparison to his shock and grief and despair, you took it really hard.

You pulled away from him. Gaps between his visits transformed from days to weeks to months. You never outright told him you didn’t want him around. Your offers to play video games just dried up. You didn’t start conversations anymore, only offering minimal reactions to what he said. Most days you were busy taking extra shifts at work and on weekends you were hanging out with your own friends who Naoya “didn’t know.”

He followed you to a couple of these outings after feeling like he was going crazy experiencing withdrawal from you. Only he didn’t find “friends.” He found you, alone at the bar, getting yourself wasted until some guy would take you home with him and leave you feeling more empty than before.

After that, Naoya decided it was his duty to intervene. He would never have betrayed Toji for you, but now that Toji was gone, he would be what you needed. His cousin would want that, someone to protect you and make you feel loved. Someone to prevent you from destroying yourself in your sadness.

So on the anniversary of Toji’s death, he came to visit you. The two of you talked in short, tension-filled sentences. He could feel the guilt dripping from your every word. It was awkward, and he didn’t try making it any easier. Soon enough, as he expected, you pulled out something to drink to soothe your nerves and make the evening tolerable. And with the liquor came your tears.

It was easy really, corralling you to his chest and rubbing your back, whispering I’ve got you over and over. Then one little prick and you were out cold against him in less than a minute.

You weren’t too happy when you woke up the next afternoon in a place you didn’t recognize. His bedroom was much nicer than your apartment. Luxury furnishings adorned the space while expensive blankets covered your sluggish form. The upgrade in surroundings did little to convince you though.

When he came in to explain to you your new circumstances, you listened quietly at first. He thought for a second that it might all go smoothly, that you would see the value in him taking care of you. But then he got to the part about becoming his wife and bearing the next generation of Zen’ins… and you didn’t seem so on board with all of that.

Now, his heart pounded in his ears as he reached the top of the stairs.

The first few months of your training had been rough, but he honestly thought he’d made great progress with you. All the fighting and yelling and crying broke you down quite a bit. The period of sleep deprivation helped as well. And of course, you’d done great for that couple weeks he’d kept you on a leash. You’d still have your bratty moments every now and then, but overall, you were doing much better now. You’d come so far and learned your place. Just sometimes, you forgot that he knew what was best for you.

And he wasn’t evil. He could be understanding. Going from your life of reckless independence to being taken care of by someone so responsible would be a big change, especially for such an emotional little thing like you. That’s why he only punished for actual disrespect.

He hoped that wasn’t what this was right now. Today was a special day. He planned to come home with open arms for you, not a raised belt. But like always, he would do what he had to.

Cautiously, he ventured through the second floor of your house back towards the bedroom. Once he was within a few feet of the door, he could hear some rustling. Finally some indication that you were still in the house. He let out a breath, but his muscles stayed taut. You could be trying to slip out the window again, prying off the nails he’d tacked through the sill.

His shaking hand landed on the door, his fingertips giving it a light push to knock it open. He braced himself, ready for the worst possible scenario. His plan wouldn’t change. Your compliance was the only variable in this situation.

He came into the bedroom and scanned around for trouble. You weren’t at the window or rummaging through his nightstand like he’d feared. You weren’t crouched at the foot of the bed, poised for an attack. Rather, he saw the closet doors open. That was where the noise was coming from.

Crossing the room, he peered between the double doors. Now his body could finally relax. He let out a deep breath and ran his hand over his face. Inside, you were there, safe and sound and not trying to escape. You were on your hands and knees, ducking beneath a shelf as if trying to find something. It seemed like you were having some trouble. Soft grunts fell from your lips and your hips wiggled as you tried to reach further. He couldn’t help noticing the way your back arched in this position along with your hips squirming. His pants felt a little tighter while watching you struggle, but he could deal with that in a few minutes. He cleared his throat to get your attention.

“There you are,” he said.

At the sound of his voice, your head shot up, knocking into the shelf above you.

“Ow,” you squeaked before pulling yourself free and sitting up. Your eyes looked up at him, wide and nervous. “Hi. Sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.”

He laughed at your little mishap before walking over to you and patting your head. “It’s alright,” he said, running his fingers along your scalp.

His sweet puppy. Obedient just as he’d hoped. You deserved more credit than he gave you it seemed. He couldn’t let you totally off the hook for not meeting him at the door though. That was how bad habits formed.

“Though maybe you shouldn’t start cleaning out the closet around the time I’m usually home.”

You nodded without protest before rising to your feet and tucking yourself to his side, your cheek squishing against the crisp fabric of his shirt.

“How was your day?” you asked. Your voice sounded meeker than usual, but he supposed you still feared the possibility of getting in trouble.

He wrapped his arm around you and squeezed your shoulder. “It was fine. Nothing special,” he said with a shrug. He began walking you out of the closet and back into the main part of the bedroom. “What were you looking for in there?”

“Today those people came over to fit me for the wedding dress, and while I had it on, I remembered these shoes I have that would go with it. I was just trying to find them, so I could ask if you liked them,” you answered.

A perfect answer in his book. You were looking for something in regards to the wedding, and not only that, but you planned on asking him for his opinion on it. It made his heart soar.

His fingers coasted up and swept below your chin, making you look up at him. As your jaw tilted upwards, his eyes fell to your neck. More specifically, the tight piece of material wrapped around your neck.

Your collar.

Just looking at it had Naoya’s cock stirring in his pants. He valued that little strap of fabric more than the diamond ring around your finger that cost thousands. His fingertips flicked the dangling silver tag that hung at the front.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, “Are you getting excited for the wedding?”

You shrugged and gave him a small smile. While he would have preferred a resounding Yes, he would take this. It was a vast improvement from the times you’d burst into tears if he so much as uttered the words wedding or bride in your presence.

He planted a kiss on your forehead before sitting on the foot of the bed and pulling you into his lap. You sat up straight on his thigh with your shoulders back. Good. He stressed the importance of not slouching to you. It was unbecoming of someone with your beauty.

Two of his knuckles dragged down the curve of your face while his eyes studied your face for a moment.

“You know… today is a very special day,” he said, connecting his gaze with yours.

They swirled with nervousness, uncertain what kind of special today was. “It is?” you asked.

“Yeah. It is,” he confirmed. His fingers rested below your jaw while his thumb swiped back and forth across your chin. “Today’s our anniversary.”

You blinked at him for a few seconds. “But we’re not married yet…” you said and cocked your head a little.

“I know that, silly girl,” he said, rolling his eyes, “I’m not talking about our wedding anniversary. I’m talking about the anniversary of us. Of me bringing you here. The real start of your life.”

Realization dawned all across your face. “Oh,” was all you said.

“Don’t give me that,” he said with a little pinch to your jaw, “It’s a lot more important than ‘oh.’ That was the day you really became mine. My little puppy.”

He snuck his arms around you and pulled you flush against his chest, rocking back and forth with you for a few moments. The way his body swayed felt like how a child would do it with their favorite doll. His fingers traced up and down your spine.

You shut your eyes and relaxed in the embrace for a few moments. His tender attitude at the moment helped keep your thoughts quiet, which was good since the information he just gave you feelings the exact opposite of his.

While nostalgia warmed Naoya’s chest, a sense of dread permeated your body. You had been here for a whole year. An entire year of your life, wasted away while you played house between the walls of the Zen’in estate. You had honestly given up on escape after the last time when he threatened to upgrade your collar to an electric one, but the idea that you would actually be here forever didn’t feel real until right now.

Something about the one year marker ticking by made the time more than an abstract concept. The same was true of Toji’s death. Some days it felt like he was gone only a week, others you felt like the last time you laid with him was in another life.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you think of him now. It was stupid, but sometimes you worried he’d be disappointed in you for giving in. He fought his way out of this place. Now one of them had you, and you were just taking it lying down.

But you couldn’t fight back anymore. You just couldn’t. This wasn’t so bad. You told yourself that everyday as you lounged around the house or made him dinner. It could be so much worse. It’s not like Naoya kept you in a box under the bed or in some dank basement. He treated you like a wife. Sure he could be… old-fashioned to put it nicely, but you were pretty sure that, in his own twisted way, he really believed he loved you.

And the worst part about this whole thing was you were kind of sure that, in some fucked up way, you felt some sort of attachment to him too.

You’d liked Naoya as a friend before any of this happened. When he was just Toji’s little cousin. You thought he was cute. A little mouthy, but funny and sharp. He was still that way now, and when you behaved he let you see that. That was when nostalgia hits you. When he got you laughing, some part of your brain felt like you were back in the apartment, waiting for Toji to come home from the store.

And when he wasn’t in a bad mood, he could be pretty sweet. Sure the puppy stuff made you want to vomit at first but now it was kinda cute… It was just his special thing for you. That’s what you told yourself. He took care of you, and he could be loving and gentle. He could be a lot worse to you. Some of the other men around here were to their wives.

Those thoughts only brought you turmoil though. You hated yourself for getting used to him. For finding reasons to defend him to yourself. To justify his eternal presence in your life.

As much as you tried to keep it down, a sniffle broke its way out of you. You hoped he didn’t notice. He was being nice right now, and you wanted so badly to keep that going. You didn’t want this to turn into a lesson.

But unfortunately, he heard the soft sound. He narrowed his eyes and grabbed your jaw, forcing your head off his chest. His eyes looked down upon your face now, not in admiration but with inquisition.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, the words coming out with the smallest hint of accusation.

Before you could even think of a cover, you shook your head. There was no way you were gonna risk having to explain your feelings to him. Naoya wasn’t the best with that.

“No…” you replied, “I’m just… I’m so… I’m so happy.”

He continued to stare at you, though his gaze dissolved from displeased to plain confusion. You brought your hand up to hold his wrist.

“I never thought I would be so lucky to have someone like you who takes care of me and looks out for me. I just can’t believe it’s been a whole year. It just makes me think about everything,” you whispered. The low volume helped them seem more authentic. If you had to be emphatic about this, it would probably seem forced.

A gradual smile began forming on his face. “Well no wonder you’re crying. You know you and thinking don’t go well together,” he teased and pulled you back to his body.

He let out a lovesick sigh and rested his cheek against the top of your head. You released a breath too. Without his scrutiny, you could relax. His hand resumed petting up and down your back while he held you.

“My poor puppydoll… you get overwhelmed by all those big feelings in your head so easily,” he cooed, “That’s why you need me. You know I can handle it all for you.”

You nodded on instinct.

“That’s my girl,” he praised, “But I didn’t bring today up for no reason. I wanted to tell you something.”

“What is it?” you asked and wiped at your misty eyes before looking up at him again.

“Well, because today is our anniversary, I thought you deserved a gift. But you’ve been such a good girl lately, so polite and well behaved, doing everything I ask of you. It couldn’t be just anything. It had to be special,” he explained.

You tried to map out where this might be going, but you came up short. He rolled over with you, slotting you beneath him on the mattress. His elbow held him above you while his free hand came up and clicked off your collar. Your eyes widened as he pushed it aside. Today must have really been special to him.

“I was thinking and thinking and thinking, but I couldn’t come up with anything that my puppy would need. You already have so many pretty outfits. So many good pairs of shoes. All the toys you could want. I keep you so well-spoiled… so what would be a good enough present for my sweet little bride?” he asked as he ducked down to your neck, “Can you guess?”

His mouth began laying hot kisses on your throat. You shuddered under his touch. He licked at your pulse point before nipping at the skin. You know he wanted to leave a mark. That was the main reason he bothered kissing your neck at all.

When he didn’t say anything after a few seconds, you realized his question wasn’t rhetorical. He expected you to guess.

“Um… I don’t know. Are we gonna go out somewhere together?” you asked hopefully. It had been a long time since you’d seen the city. Or anywhere that wasn’t this house or the grounds of this estate.

He laughed a little against your skin, peppering the area with another series of pecks. “Good try, but no. I thought of something even better,” he breathed.

You tried to think of another guess, but you honestly had no clue what he intended to use to mark this occasion.

“I don’t know,” you acquiesced.

“That’s ok, baby. I didn’t think you’d get it. It was just cute watching you try,” he teased.

He nosed at your neck once more before pulling back and looking down at you. His hand rested on your hips, his fingers clasped around the soft flesh there.

“I was thinking that because you’ve been such a good girl for me lately, that you’re ready for me to give you the greatest gift you’ll ever receive,” he whispered, “My heir.”

Every cell in your body froze upon hearing those words. You stared at him, jaw tight and eyes unmoving. How did you not think of that? It was obvious now that he’d said it. You’d known about his desire to eventually get you pregnant since your first day here, but he’d always referred to it as some distant thing. Some event that would occur after the two of you married.

There was only a month until the wedding though, so you supposed he was on track.

“Like a baby?” you whispered back, still wishing somehow that you’d misinterpreted what he meant.

“Well obviously,” he said, “Now’s not the time for joking, puppy. I know you’re ready.”

“I…” you started, but you cut yourself short. You didn’t know how to divert him from that idea without causing a blow up. “I’m scared…” you tried.

“There’s no reason to be. You know I’ll take care of you. The whole time you’re pregnant, you’ll be spoiled even more than you are now,” he said and kissed you, this time on the mouth. His lips moved against your own at a sensual pace before he pulled back. “It’ll feel so good. It’s what this body was made for. To carry Zen’in babies.”

You didn’t know what else you could possibly say, but luckily that wasn’t a worry for long. He went back in for more kisses. His tongue worked your mouth open before slipping in and caressing your own. You moaned softly and brought your hand up to thread through his bleached tresses.

He smirked against your lips. You could feel the smug curve of it rise as he steadied himself above you. His hand kneaded your hips before his fingers hooked over the top of your bottoms and began pulling them down.

Your heart thundered in your chest. “Nao, I don’t know…” you whimpered, but he silenced you by pressing his mouth harder against you.

“There’s nothing for you to know, baby. Nothing you need to worry about. You let me make the decisions remember? Just be a good girl for me,” he mumbled.

He rolled his hips against your center, forcing your legs to spread wider in the process. You could feel his bulge against the thin cloth of your panties. He did it a couple more times, rocking the hard mound against your clothed cunt. The dull friction felt good, you couldn’t deny that. Your breath hitched and you arched against him slightly.

Despite you starting to reciprocate somewhat, he could still feel the tension in you, and he didn’t like that. Normally it wouldn’t bother him so much, but tonight was different. He wanted you desperate to carry his babies, begging for him to fuck you full of his seed. It was an honor after all. Even if you still had reservations, you would come to see that in time.

His right set of fingers delved between your thighs, lifting the elastic of your panties and cupping your pussy. He slid his middle digit between your folds. In a few seconds, the pad swirled around your sensitive bundle of nerves. It flicked across your little clit, drawing a whine out of you.

“You don’t understand how badly I need to breed you, precious,” he breathed.

Your legs squirmed, and you bit your lip. You tried to keep your thoughts in line. A few small strokes to your pussy wouldn’t melt you so easily.

But it wasn’t just a few small strokes.

Naoya went back to kissing your neck, working all over from your jaw to your shoulder. His finger played with you until you began leaking arousal. He ground his erection against your thigh and whimpered next to your ear.

You could try to ignore it all you wanted, but you could hear the need in his voice. He sounded like an animal in pain. His other hand gripped you with the force of one as well.

“It’s all I want in this world. To rule this clan with you at my side, full with my child,” he panted, “You’ll look beautiful. Swollen in all the right places. Your body glowing as it does what it was meant to.”

Another moan fell from your mouth as his dreams began to infiltrate your mind as well. And while you were all worked up, you could kind of see the appeal.

“It’ll feel so good for you, fulfilling your purpose. Your body will be so sensitive too. You’ll ache for me, puppy. Your body will crave me like oxygen because it’ll know I own you.”

“Naoya,” you gasped. His finger slid down to your entrance and prodded inside for a moment. He pumped it in and out. It wasn’t enough to make you cum or give you serious pleasure. But it was the perfect amount to steal the thoughts from your head and melt you beneath him.

“Good girl,” he purred, “This is what you need, baby. That silly little brain is trying to hold you back because you’ve been taught that everyone expects more of you. But I don’t. I don’t expect you to work or make decisions or do any of that hard stuff because I know that’s too complicated for my little puppy. It wouldn’t be fair to ask that of you. All I want you to do is relax and let me have control. Just be my good little girl and listen to what I tell you. And what I’m telling you is that you’re meant to be bred. That’s all you need to do, my sweet wife.”

A moment passed where nothing changed. He kept kissing you while you stayed still. But then your hands rose to his chest and started grabbing at his shirt, trying to tug it off. And he knew he had you.

“Silly girl, just a few sweet words and you fall apart so easily for me,” he muttered.

In your mind, your resolve hadn’t completely collapsed. But what he’d said didn’t sound horrible. It was definitely the best case scenario for being here. So why not enjoy your anniversary. You could worry about the consequences tomorrow.

He made quick work of his clothing and your remaining coverings. In no time, he stood nude above him while you laid exposed on the mattress.

Stroking his cock a few times, he climbed on top of you. His golden eyes drooped with lust as they focused on you. You wrapped your legs around his waist in an attempt to guide him where you needed him most.

“So eager to be full now, are you?” he mocked.

You nodded and looped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down on you. Most of the time, he wasn’t a fan of such clinginess while he was on top of you, but you were behaving better than he expected. He could let it slide just this once. It was your anniversary after all.

He lined up with your hole and nudged the tip against you teasingly.

“Naoya,” you whined, tightening your legs around him.

“This is what I get for spoiling you, huh? A whiny pup,” he murmured and pecked your cheek as he sheathed himself inside you.

Your walls locked around him, squeezing and fluttering at the pleasure that came with the first thrust. His breath came out a little shaky as he adjusted to the feeling of you around him. He shut his eyes for a moment, just feeling the warmth of your tight embrace.

“Your pussy’s begging for it,” he said as he dragged his hips back. He then pushed into you again.

Another long stroke followed the first, and then another after that. He set himself into a steady rhythm, rocking his hips back and forth. You mewled and clutched at his shoulders.

“It just feels so good,” you whimpered.

His grip became stronger on you too. He held you close to his body, ensured you couldn’t run or squirm away from him in the slightest. His pelvis continued to piston against you. The faint sound of skin clapping on skin filled the bedroom along with your combined sounds of ecstasy.

Every time he bottomed out, his silky tip bumped against some sweet spot. You cried out with almost everyone. Your eyes rolled back, blissed out from the continuous stimulation.

“That’s it. Just take it,” he huffed, nestling his face against your neck. You could feel his hot breath steaming against your skin.

Arousal continued to gush from you around his cock. Your slick smeared against your skin and coated the patch of dark hair at the base of his dick.

“Nao… deeper, please,” you whined.

He sighed and obliged your request, slamming into you as hard as he could. Your head board knocked against the wall.

“There you go,” he grunted, “Nice and deep. Gotta get it all the way in so it will take.”

You felt so good that hearing that didn’t even bother you. If anything, it dragged you closer to the edge.

“Gonna- ah! Gonna…” you tried to tell him.

“Just think about it. If I knock you up tonight, you’ll be pregnant during our wedding,” he said. He rolled his hips against you at a slower pace that still reached just as deep. “You’re supposed to wait till the wedding night to try, but no one would know. It’d be our little secret. My gorgeous bride, bred and beautiful just for me.”

Your hips bucked eagerly, out of your control. A pitchy whine left you, audible proof of your desperation.

“That’s it, puppy. Cum for me,” he crooned, “Cum for me so I can pump you full and put a baby in your belly.”

You cried out and locked your limbs around his body. Your muscles all quivered as release crashed into you. It hit you like a bomb going off. Your eyes screwed shut while your jaw clenched. Strangled moans still made their way out though.

He groaned right beside your ear. The pulsing of your cunt only grew more rapid around his length. It massaged him just how he needed to reach the finish line. He kept working himself in and out right until he felt that peak. Then he slid in all the way and let his body go lax on you, trembling with the pleasure of his orgasm.

You held him while his cum spilled inside of you, and afterwards the both of you remained attached. Your hearts pounded against each other where your chests met, rising and falling with labored breaths. His fingers lazily pet your head, trailing down to your shoulder to trace little patterns there.

Eventually, he pulled out and rolled off of you. His hand came to rest on your lower stomach without a word. He held it there for a few moments before rising onto his elbow and giving you a kiss.

“My perfect bride-to-be,” he whispered, the tip of his nose nearly touching yours, “I think whatever you had in the oven has long burnt by now.”

The tone in which he said the words had you thinking for a few seconds they were just some sweet nothings you didn’t understand. But upon taking a deeper breath and smelling the air, you realized he was right. The food you’d put in the oven before he’d come home was probably burnt to a crisp at this point.

“Sorry,” you said, instantly sitting up to go and correct your mistake.

But with a gentle hand on your shoulder, he ushered you back down against the mattress.

“I’ll have the servants bring us something better and clean it up,” he said and nuzzled your cheek, “What do I always say? I’ll take care of you. Even your little mistakes.”

You nodded and relaxed again. Your eyes drifted down to your stomach, the location of your possible future greatest mistake. Despite everything that had just transpired, you hoped it wouldn’t take.

“Oh I almost forgot,” he said, breaking you from your thoughts. His hand came up to your throat, your collar between his fingers. He grinned as he fastened it back into place. “There we go. It would be wrong of me to leave my pup without her collar.”

He flicked the dangling tag once more before laying beside you again.

#naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin smut #naoya zenin x you #jujustu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk imagines #ch: naoya zenin 💌#naoya x reader #naoya x you

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temis-de-leon · 3 months ago

Text

He has a nightmare where he rejected you

Characters: Solomon and Simeon (x gn!reader, separately)

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

Main Masterlist

CW: spoilers for Simeon's character development in the OG game (I haven't played NB yet).

A/N: brace yourselves for Simeon's part because I still can't write him.

Solomon – He will inevitably lose you

From all the things he thought he would miss when he reached immortality, being able to remember his exact age wasn’t one of them; and yet, there was the regret.

He tells himself is not that deep; that reaching the thousands is already an impressive achievement, but lying to himself has its limits.

Maybe, if he hadn’t been so occupied tracking demons of interest and travelling the realms in search of knowledge, he would’ve had the time to keep score and be aware of just how long he had been roaming amongst the rest of his kind.

Maybe, if those who cared for him stayed longer than their perishable bodies allowed, someone would’ve been there to remind him.

And there were only so many burials he could attend before finally throwing the towel and accepting the emotional safety of solely seeking the company of immortals like him.

But then, centuries later, the human exchange program happens and you make him feel like reuniting with an old friend, even if you’ve never met before.

So he listens to experience.

So he remembers all those funerals he’d attended in the past; all those faces lost to time and inevitable death.

You’re way too enticing to ignore and of course, there’s the need to protect the fellow human surrounded by demons (never mind he acts like one too), but he knows how to stay occupied and at a distance, keeping his feelings at bay.

Casual friendship is the limit he willingly stops at.

He knows that if he allows himself to accept and reciprocate your love, the only important number in his life wouldn’t be his age anymore, but the day he’d inevitably lose you forever.

Tears pooled in his eyes as a violent coughing fit made him bend over, lungs pushing themselves up his throat in an attempt to escape from the stench and the toxic effects of the room’s atmosphere.

Ventilation.

He needed to open the windows.

It was like a cloud had entered his laboratory; a dense, humid fog that barely covered the furniture and crushed against the walls like a rot-smelling milky tide.

Still, Solomon wasn’t sure whether his tears were caused by the abnormal air around him or that unpleasant nightmare he just had.

Although he tried not to think about it, especially the heartbroken expression on your face, the scene did nothing more but repeat in his mind. His words and reasoning carried some logic, yet he couldn’t imagine a universe where that would’ve ever happened.

He enjoyed risks and danger but had never been masochist enough to deny himself of your company; on the contrary, the sole idea of spending time with you was usually a strong motivation to finish his work quickly and make some free time in his schedule, so rejecting being your lover was the strangest and unlikeliest idea he could’ve ever had.

Making that damn potion sure was another one.

Ironically, it was supposed to be a gift for you to use with him as a bonding couple activity, a concoction he had been experimenting on for days to use as introspection into your relationship. His original intention was to glimpse into your possible futures and even your alternative pasts, to see which other ways you had fallen in love with each other; not to witness a rejection.

Had that happened, then? In another timeline? Or had that nightmare been a fragment of his sad imagination?

Thankfully, the air inside the laboratory started to purify the moment he opened the window. He felt his thoughts return to rational and realistic as the fresh breeze of the Devildom night hit him right in his face. The fog, icy and moist, slithered around him and past the window into the darkness, dissipating and completely disappearing from his line of sight. However, behind him, the potion was still bubbling and rattling the cauldron, threatening to throw it to the ground.

Was it the measurements? The temperature of the fire? The direction of the stirring?

Trial and error; success didn’t come one’s way by dumb luck.

With a flick of the wrist and a sour scowl, he magically extinguished the overworked flames and threw the dangerous mixture down the drain.

It would be better to leave his experiment alone for a few more days, though. Perhaps even a week. That would be enough time for him to forget the dreadful nightmare, or at least try to do so. Until then, he’d leave the windows open, hoping the scattered fog didn’t affect any unsuspecting creature on the street, and close the laboratory under lock and key.

Solomon would buy you flowers and sweets and each good thing you deserved in life until the day came when he could give you something better.

Trial and error.

Simeon – The consequences could be fatal

You see.

He lived through the cautionary tale, a horrific incident that affected everyone involved, so he is painfully aware of how any potential intimacy between you two could end.

It doesn’t necessarily have to be like that, of course, but he knows that if he gets to love you, he’ll take risks and chances. Everything you could ever need, Simeon would give you, and not even the pearly gates of the Celestial Realm would be enough to stop him.

Lillith’s treason against their home in favour of her human lover would repeat in his hands if the situation required it.

His love runs deep and he knows so from the very first moment he sees you.

Although, at first, there isn’t anything extraordinary about your friendship.

He still appreciates it. It’s a carefree arrangement, for lack of a better word, light and kind in nature, and it helps him ease into the Devildom in a way he didn’t think existed.

You hang out sometimes, mostly because of Luke and his strong angelic need to protect your pure human soul, and you study together every once in a while, but your shared time isn’t enough to spark the flames of romantic attraction.

It’s easier to let you go when you have seven demanding demons trailing behind you like lost puppies; an amusing sight and a welcomed one.

And still, you choose him.

Why?

Is it his gentle demeanour? Or the determination shining underneath? Is it because he’s so different from the brothers, who show no remorse in admitting their darkest desires regarding their love for you?

He feels forced to reject you and he does as such, basking in the reassurance that you’ll both keep your friendship intact.

Don’t be mistaken; he loves you as well, but he doesn’t feel like that love belongs to the angel he used to be.

It was a melodic sound what woke him up, a tune he recognized as a warning coming from his new laptop.

Frowning and groaning in discomfort, Simeon brushed his hair away from his forehead and tried to rub off the imprints left on his skin by the keyboard. The document in front of him was full of random letters and numbers, no wonder a product of his unconsciously moving head, and a message on the screen asked for his authorization to carry out some type of order.

He didn’t quite fully understand what it asked, so, as per your usual requests, he closed the laptop and kept it inside his backpack.

Now at least he had a reason to visit you.

Not like he needed one, but the brothers, especially Lucifer, tended to leave you both alone more frequently if there was.

Thinking about them made the nightmare reappear and remain fresh in his mind, but somehow, surprisingly, it didn’t bother him as much as It should’ve. While the aspect of rejecting you hurt his heart in a special way, he knew he ultimately didn’t do it and chose the better option; but it was everything else what was stopping him from forgetting about it before leaving to see you.

He was changing, wasn’t he? It wasn’t your fault, you were merely an adding factor, but the truth was undeniable.

No longer the angel he used to be and neither a human, there were parts of himself he couldn’t keep ignoring. The darkness within that could compete with a demon’s, Lord Diavolo’s inability to read him as fast as he would anyone else and his willingness to bend the rules he had been taught should you ever need him to.

Lillith’s presence is blurry in his memories after so many years, but he would never be able to fully forget her; how could he ever do that? She fell in love and risked what she had and what she was to preserve it, although it ended in tragedy.

And still, he understood her.

Solomon’s and Luke’s voices reached him from the living room, bringing him back to reality. Besides his slow breathing and an unclosed faucet, the bathroom was otherwise silent. Droplets of water ran down his face like tears, but his eyes were dry and hardened by his thoughts. His reflection in the mirror seemed tired and he dreaded how his actual appearance might look. You would ask about it, no doubt, but what would he answer? He didn’t even know the full truth himself.

Glimpses of self-reflection and fragments of a realistic nightmare weren’t enough to dissipate your worries, so it’d be better for everyone if he kept hiding, at least for the moment.

Sweet actions and sweet words shielded by the honest love he felt for you.

The truth would come out eventually, but, until then, let the nightmares remain a mere fragment of his world-renowned imagination.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom @books-and-catears

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natalchartnurtures · 9 months ago

Text

PAC: Energy Check~ for wherever you are right now

This was completely unplanned but frankly spirit doesn't give a fuck about my plans. So if this found you, here are some messages you probably need right now-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

pile 1: Ooh.. as I was preparing to start your reading, I saw 11:11 as the Chariot card showed up for you. This. Tells me that you are pretty strongly connected to your divine path right now, which simply means that you're doing something that's keeping you in alignment, sweet pile one! Good job! Keep going down this road because you WILL stumble upon amazing experiences and people! This message is coming through quite strongly. Now, isn't that lovely? Hehe.

Here's the thing, though.. Although you're actually IN alignment with your greatest timeline and life, you seem to be completely UNAWARE of the fact! You might be going through the necessary purging emotionally and/or mentally as a result of this alignment since the "old stuff" has no more room in your new vibration anymore. So, you've probably had to go through some intense endings and/or tower moments in life lately and THIS has left you feeling really, really sad. Maybe even depressed. For some of you, if that's the case, please seek help, sweet soul. It doesn't have to be therapy but even as simple as talking to a trusted loved one, you know? Or even journaling about it could help if you're into it. It seems like you could use a new perspective on the things you're going through right now. I'm sensing that you might be feeling emotionally numb right now too, but that's because you've been doing a lot of emotional processing lately AND IT'S ALL PAYING OFF. I just need you to know that. You just can't see it right now because you're slap dead in the middle of the storm, and I'm looking at it from a bird's eye view, you know?

While you're purging old stuff, I also see you making your way through an old core belief - "I gotta work hard to be deserving of anything because I inherently don't" Or something along those lines. You may have started purging this belief as a result of life showing you that it's simply not something worth keeping alive inside you. Maybe recently, you caught yourself overworking yourself to death only to receive very little in return (in any area of your life - relationships included) and this experience helped you wake up to this unhelpful belief of yours. You're unlearning this belief as we speak. It's not easy though, but I CAN assure you, you're acing it.

If you find yourself worrying too much about anything and everything or simply feeling a general fear, just know that it's a normal reaction to having things uprooted in your life. Life, right now, is asking you to do your best to focus on what's right in front of you because if you do this, the future is guaranteed to sort itself out. I promise.

I love you so much, pile 1. I see all your hard work and am rooting for you SO hard, bro. Love and light.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 2: Seems like to me that y'all have been STUCK in a particular pattern for a while now, maybe years? For some of you folks reading? Let me spell it out for you what this pattern looks like to me - an imbalance of the mind and heart. Too much mind and too little heart. Maybe none at all.

I can't seem to tap into the root of this imbalance, maybe because it's different for each of you reading, OR maybe it's not relevant to us right now because you can simply begin to address this imbalance as you see it in your day-to-day. But I sense that you're really good at addressing things, so once you're conscious of this pattern going on subtly in the background, running your life, you can really do something about this. This pattern may show up as you struggling with feeling fear, and this is blocking you off to one very important thing fear is here to show us, and that is how to support ourselves. If we are afraid of something we desire and have a healthy relationship with fear, we go for the desire while caretaking our fear. I read a quote the other day, it said "Do that thing you love but if you find that you're scared, then go do it scared." The point I'm trying to make is, fear isn't going to go away on its own, it's you who will simply expand your ability to hold space for it AND your desires equally. When you figure out how to do this, magic will happen in your life. You'll find that your unwillingness to caretake your fear only gave you more things to be afraid of (because, hello, Law Of Attraction *lol*), BUT you'll also find that when you radically start taking responsibility for your fear(s), you'll be able to act from a wiser space and be your full badass self. You'll find that there are so many things you CAN do and so much life you CAN live. Everything you've wanted to start doing in life will start to happen almost seamlessly. It WILL surprise you big time. You're currently making your way through an important part of your healing, and that is to hold yourself in all your glory. To hold all parts of yourself, even the ones that are scared shitless. Once you've integrated this segment of your healing, SO many doors will unlock for you. Sweet soul, you have no clue of JUST HOW MANY. And this… is probably because you manifest with your heart primarily (meaning you feel things deeply and so you unknowingly tap into the frequency of what you want easily) and your fear is keeping you stuck in your head, which means you're only 40% of the full You right now, PRIOR the healing of c. You might even feel it sometimes. You might feel like you're only a shell of a person (been there myself, you're not alone in this!). Listen to that feeling. Your truth lies in there. You're meant to be the 100% you, and I see that you're already halfway there!

I love you so much, pile 2, sending you so much light and love. Hope you find the resources you need to make it through to your new life where you live in more love than fear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 3: Man… y'all been fighting for your lives, huh? I see that you may be in the midst of a lot of divinely evoked darkness? Lol, I literally heard that - divinely evoked darkness. Maybe you're going through a dark night of the soul, perhaps? Whatever your're going through though, it seems like you've been hanging on for dear life.

Some good news for you- no matter the circumstances you're in right now (be it good, bad, or terrible), you've been doing all the work necessary to keep your head above water and have been diligently nurturing your own light, positivity, and essence. THAT'S incredible resilience, sweet pile 3, and I'm really proud of you! It's not easy to keep an open heart through bad times, and that's such a grand achievement in my eyes. UGH, BEAUTIFUL.

Your energy SCREAMS transition period vibes. You seem to be neither in your "old" timeline nor in the new one yet. You're sorta hanging in the middle right now. I see the Hanged Man in the third eye as I tell you this. Feels like you're in the void right now, and things just seem… bleh. Boring. Colorless. This is probably because you're already done with the ugly part of the process, "the divine shakeups", the loss, and the purge. Think… the bland but peaceful feeling you feel after having an intense ugly crying session, you know? Yeah, you're energetically there right now. You'll probably be here for a while longer because you've let go of MAJOR stuff, pile 3. Did you let go of people recently, maybe? Or that old bad habit, perhaps? That was the purge, so to speak. And now you're in the aftermath of it all, the uncomfortable but necessary calm.

-Side note: You might've struggled to embody your divine feminine earlier, but the timeline you're entering right now is the exact opposite of that. You might be attracted towards things that will help you nurture your own divine feminine right now. Give into it. Nurture patience, stillness, and compassion for self. It will HOPEFULLY speed up the void period if you consciously take part in it, you know?-

You're quite emotionally intelligent, and it has guided you throughout the whole process, and it also seems like it ain't your first rodeo in the process of proverbial death and rebirth. Good on you because you're doing a real good job keeping your calm through venturing into the unknown. You know what? You remind me of Elsa from Frozen, taking on the unknown like it belongs to her. You are such a queen, omg.

Yep, all that's left to do now is celebrate yourself, pile 3! Try your best to embrace this period, the void, and you'll be on your way to your next happy adventure! Love and light, sweet soul. Thanks for sharing your energy with me today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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dcxdpdabbles · 5 days ago

Note

For Angel Brat, could we have some more focus on Bruce and Danny? Maybe Dick and Danny as well?

Bruce looks over to where Danny and Dick are each filling up their frozen yogurt cups. Dick's, is a vanilla and chocolate mix topped with various candies.

It seemed he had taken the open bar toppings as a personal challenge to drop a scoop of everything laid out into his container. Honestly, Bruce sometimes wondered if all of Dick's spontaneous flips were just a means to stay in shape, so he could keep eating the way he did.

Danny, on the other hand, had chocolate topped with only peanuts. His blue eyes- the only difference between him and Damian physically wise- kept wandering over longingly to offered sweeties but he was on a strict diet for his health.

Bruce can't believe that for all they have been searching for ways to keep Danny; they had neglected developing research for his illnesses. It felt a bitter taste in his mouth that they still could not find a cure for his boy.

Bruce Wayne was able to travel through time but make sure his son could run long periods without his heart or his lungs breaking down? Turns out he truly is just a mortal, and that was one of the worst things to realize when his son confidently bragged about being able to do two entire laps of their yard without nearly passing out.

He mentally did some calculations before stepping closer and touching Danny's shoulder. "I think you can have some chocolate chips."

His boy's face brightened in joy before he rushed to the counter, scooping the chocolate goods into his yogurt. It's another thing he noticed about Danny.

Unlike Damian, his youngest didn't bother hiding his emotions. He wore them like a badge of honor, letting them bleed across his face as quickly as he allowed sunlight to rest on them.

Bruce isn't sure if this is due to their different personalities- like the night and day of those two- or if it was because Danny had gotten out of the League when he did. Damian had broken him out to prevent him from being killed for his execution, but Bruce could not figure out where Danny had grown up.

His son's phrases and slight accent indicated midwestern. Bruce had no idea where, and every time he tried searching for him, the only thing that popped up was the already small rumors. Was this an effect of the timeline resetting? But why were there some posts and data on him left behind if it was?

It gave Bruce a headache; even Wally had no idea what was causing it. Wally, having been trapped in the Speed Force for so long, was the expert on it. Bruce shuddered to think of the alternatives if he couldn't figure out what was happening.

Bart had assured everyone that Danny was officially an anchor to their timeline, but if Wally's grim warnings that time was slowly erasing him- thus the lack of proof of childhood- then nothing they could do would save their son.

The worst part was not knowing if he would even be able to properly mourn him. Would Daniel Wayne vanish one day if no one remembered he was supposed to be there?

"Dick, I'm taking a pottery class. I'm going to make you something for your desk." Danny says, snapping Bruce out of his dark thoughts. Then he realizes he was moving on auto-polite, and the cashier was handing back his change.

He takes it with an empty smile turning to his children as Dick beams down at the youngest. "I can't wait to see it, Danny! I bet it will be the best one in class."

"I'll be the only one in the class," Danny tells him sheepishly, but a hint of sadness leaks into his voice. "I'm too sick to go to the center. Dad hired me a private teacher to come to the manor instead."

Bruce's heart squeezes painfully, and one quick glance at Dick's face lets him know his son feels the same way. Of course, nothing sows on his eldest face, but Bruce has known Dick for so long he can tell by the slight tightening around his eyes and the way the pain is tucked in his eyes.

Before he can think better of it, Bruce hears himself say, "I've always been interested in pottery. I'll see if the instructor wouldn't mind a second student."

"Really?" Danny's eyes are practically shining , which prompts Bruce to smile and shrug a shoulder.

"Yes, in fact I'm sure all of your siblings would love to take a class or two. Why don't you send a message in the group chat to see if they like to sign up?" He makes a motion that has Dick pulling out his phone to send in a different group titled "Keep our Angel."

His phone dings just a few seconds before Danny's, which the more petite boy takes as his own message coming through. Bruce never the less checks it anyway, swiping over to Dick's to read what he wrote

Dick: You are all taking a pottery class this Saturday. No excuse. Danny wants us there. I will hurt you if you miss.

His lack of emojis is bone-chilling. Bruce highly doubts any of his children will miss the event. And just as he predicted, Danny's smile grows wider when more dings can be heard coming from his phone.

"Everyone can make it!" He cheers, scrolling through the messages, looking like the world had just been promised to him. "This is going to be so much fun! Do you think the teacher won't mind?"

"I'm sure she will be happy for the raise." And if she wasn't, Bruce would quickly find someone who would. Money, to him, was never an issue.

Danny grins so brightly that Bruce wonders if he should invest in some sunglasses, but his heart does soar. Even if Dick has to reach out to adjust Danny's heart pump wires after they get stuck on the chair.

Effortlessly, Dick moves the attention away from the machine with a simple question. "Besides my gift, what else are you hoping to make Danny?"

"I'm going to make a vase for Bernard. Damian will help me buy him flowers and ask him out." Danny's words are accompanied by a brilliant blush, but he seems almost proud of his newfound courage to ask a boy three years his senior.

Did Bruce just get shot? He feels like he's been shot.

Dick's little spoon crumbles in his hold as his very famous and dangerous rage bleeds into his blue eyes. "Wow. That's so brave of you. By the way, where does Bernard live again?"

Bruce will have to postpone his deep dive into finding out where Danny was raised because if he takes his attention off of Dick for even a second, his eldest will kill that boy.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #Angel and Demon Brat #Part 4 #Danny is just having fun #Bruce is starting to notice holes in thier stories #So Damian ordered him to say something crazy #Yes Tim did have to sit gaurd by Bernard for hours on end to keep him safe from Dick

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mrsdesade · 7 months ago

Note

I'd like something based on Sage vs fem!supe! Maybe them arguing and then Homie forced to choose between one of them, but everything ending up with something unexpected! You choose what :)

Shattered glasses;

Pairing: Homelander x fem!super (I use Ophera bc I don't like writing ''y/n'' y'know) TW: slight angst, mention of poisoning, morally grey fem!supe Timeline: season 4 Words count: 2,7k Note: thanks for the request dear anon, I was waiting for writing something about s4 :) ofc no hate for any characters!!

Sister Sage never liked you. From the first moment she saw you, she knew you would be a hindrance. She's not jealous, not even in love with him, she just wanted to control Homelander, and you already had him in your grasp. But the little flaws in your absolutely not perfect relationship with him were the perfect opportunity for her to destroy you and get you fired.

For months she had been trying to make you look incompetent or unable to do your work, she was the smartest woman in the world, and in her eyes you were just another showgirl like the others.

But you were on the Seven from the early years and, oh, you didn't liked at all the fact that Homelander had chosen her as his advisor.

You, you are his partner, he should listen to you.

It has always been about control, rarely about love. But now you feel jealousy boiling in your veins, your control over him is slipping away, and you feel in danger. You know that you'll have to prove to Sage that it is not so easy to get rid of you.

Sister Sage sat comfortably at the table of the Seven, her hands folded in front of her, sipping a steaming cup of chamomile tea. With a delicate motion, she set the cup back down on its saucer, and flashed you a calm smile.

“I think you’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment. You’re making this personal. It’s simply business.”

She's too confident in her intellectual abilities, to the point of arrogance. She's good at reading people, especially their feelings and insecurities, and she uses that to her advantage in arguments, trying to make you say something stupid and make you look like a fool.

“You’ve had your chance at the top, dear. It’s time to accept that things have changed.”

You are standing, with your hands placed on the table, clenched into two fists to hold back your nervousness, looking for the right words to face her, but nothing comes out of your lips.

“Listen, I understand your… frustration. After all, you’re nothing more than a relic these days, don’t you think? A fading star.”

The words hit you like a blow to the gut. Her casual insults were like salt rubbed vigorously into an open wound. You fight back the urge to respond with anger, knowing that she's goading you into a reaction.

“Oh, I hit a nerve, didn’t I? That’s exactly what I meant. You’re stuck in the past. You can’t adjust to the changes. It’s kinda pathetic, really.”

You wanted nothing more than to reach across the table and wipe that arrogant smile off her face, but you knew that’s exactly what she wanted. So you took a deep breath, trying to maintain some semblance of composure.

“I suggest you think about your words better, the last person who dared to call me pathetic didn't end well.”

Sage raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“You can try to intimidate me all you want, but it won’t change the fact that your time has passed. No matter what you do, you won't be able to get your spotlight back.”

“Dear, I fill the stadiums, the arenas, millions of people come to hear my voice every night, every single event is sold out in minutes! I wouldn't call this decay of a carreer.”

“Ah, yes, the fame and the adoration of the masses. Impressive, really. But I was referring to another type of spotlight here.”

She paused for a moment, studying your face before continuing. Your gaze has become dark, almost threatening, you know perfectly well where he wants his speech to end.

“We both know you lost your real spotlight a long time ago…the one that matters. Homelander won’t change his mind about me.”

Your expression betrays your emotions, anger and frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

“You're playing a dangerous game Sage, you know that? You think you can just waltz in here and take my place?”

“Ophera, is it so hard to accept that I’m better equipped for the job? You’ve always been so blinded by your ego and your pride. Your strategy is always to stay safe and not lose your career, Vought needs much more than this.”

Her expression was cool and calculating, as If she had already mapped out every possible reaction you might have.

“And let's clarify, I don’t need to take your spot. I already have.”

Your face twisted in anger, your fists gripped the table’s edge, under your gloves knuckles turning white.

“You arrogant little—“ you began, but she calmly interrupted you.

“Now, now, there’s no need for insults.” she chided, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. “We’re adults here, we can speak calmly and intelligently like any normal person, don’t you agree?”

“You're feeling cool, mh? Acting all smart and knowing everything. I've been a part of this Seven for years. And you, you're nothing.”

Her cool demeanor began to crack, and a hint of annoyance flickered across her face at your words.

“Ah, here it goes. The same old tired argument. I've been here longer, I'm more experienced, blah blah blah.”

She leaned forward, her eyes boring into yours with an intensity that contradicted her calm exterior.

“Oh, did I hit a nerve?” you teased, mirroring her earlier taunt.

“Don't get too comfortable.” she retorted, her voice slightly sharpened. “You should remember that your position here is fragile. One wrong word, one wrong move, and you could lose everything you have left.“

You leaned forward now, your voice lowering as you met her gaze.

“You seem to forget that I’ve still a pretty big influence over Homelander myself. I can make things difficult for you if I want to.”

“I think we both know who he listens to these days.”

The conversation was cut short when the door to the room burst open, and Homelander strolled in, his presence immediately filling the space. His eyes flicked between the two of you, sensing the tension in the room.

“What's going on here?”

You and Sage both turned your attention to him, quickly composing yourselves.

“Just a chat. I was merely informing Ophera of some important developments within about the Vought future.”

Homelander glanced at you, tilting his head slightly as he observed.

“A chat, huh? Didn't look like a friendly one to me.”

“You're right. And since it's clear that Sage loves telling you lies, I'll tell you that wasn't just a simple chat.” an adorable, mischievous smile escapes from your lips. Exposing the little lie she told to him.

Homelander's eyes immediately landed on Sage, waiting for her to respond. “Care to explain?”

Sage shifted in her seat, clearly irritated that you had exposed her lie. “It's nothing serious, just a typical argument between colleagues. Nothing you need to worry about.” she replied quickly, trying to downplay the situation.

And incredibly, it works.

Homelander nods like a tamed puppy and believes her.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration as Homelander seemed to buy into Sage's explanation so easily. It seemed like she had him wrapped around her little finger.

“I see, things like this happens, just keep it professional, ladies, okay?”

Sage shot you a quick, victorious look, smug knowing her sweet words to him had prevailed, again.

Disappointment flooding through your veins. It infuriated you how easily Homelander seemed to believe blindly in to Sage's words. You tried to maintain a neutral expression. But you won't have another opportunity like this to assert your dominance, you have to think of something quickly. Sage sure is smart, but you can be really sly.

You pretended to shrug nonchalantly, even though inside you were seething with anger. But you weren't done yet.

You locked eyes with Homelander, ensuring he was listening to you. And then you spoke, your voice dripping with feigned concern.

“It’s true, it wasn’t a big deal. But there’s one thing that concerns me, Homelander. May I be honest with you?”

He tilted his head slightly, curiosity piqued. “You've to.”

“I felt a bit insecure lately and I was wondering...If I should save Sage from poisoning or me from falling from a building. Who would you save?”

Your question comes like an unexpected bolt of lightning, without anyone being able to foresee it or understand its real intention. You cross your arms over your chest and walk around the room slowly, waiting for a response.

He's is taken aback by your question, and the room falls silent. Sage glanced at you quickly, an unexpected flicker of worry in her eyes.

Homelander's eyes follow you as you walk around the room. He's quiet for a few moments, considering the weight of your words before answering.

“Why should I choose, I can save both without effort, you know that.” he finally responds, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Your lips curled into a smirk - the answer is far from satisfactory.

“Of course, but let's say you can only choose one.” you persist, your voice steady. “Who would it be?”

His expression unreadable. He's definitely taken off guard by your insistence, and you can see a hint of annoyance starting to form underneath the surface.

“There are too many factors to consider, I can't just say one random name. Fuck, you and your stupid questions...”

Sage looks down at the cup of chamomile tea she was drinking a few minutes ago, and for a second the fear of having been poisoned actually makes her shiver.

“And that's why I'm here to listen all of your thoughts about.” you smile at him once again, hiding something dark behind your kind tone.

Homelander sighs, finally realizing you won’t back down. He crosses his arms, staring at you with slight irritation.

“Fine. Let's say, If I had to choose, I'd likely save Sage first.”

Sage's head snapped up upon hearing his decision, and her eyes widened in surprise. But you answer him carefully, still smiling.

“Are you sure about that?”

“I mean, you're more resistant than her, you wouldn't really die falling from a building. While Sage body is totally human, he would certainly die without an antidote for the poison.”

Your smirk widens, you expected this.

“There, happy now? I solve your fucking riddle.”

You quickly turn away from the conversation and casually walk over towards the large window you know is behind Sage's seat. Acting as if you were admiring the view outside, you casually reach for the handle and pull the window open. The gust of wind that blows in is strong enough to be unexpected, the documents on the table rattle, and the curtains wave violently.

Sage's hand involuntarily releases her cup of tea, and as it hits the floor and the liquid splashes in her direction, a look of panic and realization flashed across her face.

She quickly rises from her seat, her body shaking subtly, trying to play it off as if it was just a simple accident. But anyone can see the flicker of panic behind her eyes. The liquid seeps into the carpet, staining it a dark brown.

“You— Ophera what have you done to my tea?!”

Homelander's eyes narrow, his attention suddenly diverted from the ongoing conversation.

You feign surprise, tilting your head to the side innocently. “Me? Nothing.”

“Bullshit!” Sage points a finger at you, a mixture of shock and fury on her face. She starts to feel strange, she feels dizzy and her legs are shaking.

You turn back to the large open window, the strong gust of wind causing your hair to flutter and the hem of your uniform to flutter. As you look outside, you subtly step back, closer and closer to the edge, the tips of your feet barely holding onto the edge of the window frame.

“What the hell are you doing Ophera?” he say, his voice sharp. “Get away from the window, where has your fear of great heights gone?”

Your eyes flick toward Homelander, a sly smile playing on your lips as you continue to stand dangerously close to the open window, your words dripping with a hint of manipulation.

“Well, I guess now you finally have a real opportunity to choose, love.”

A moment of silence hangs in the air as they're taken off guard by your audacity. Suddenly, without any warning, you lean back, and with a graceful leap, you launch yourself out of the window.

Homelander's heart skips a beat.

“No…No, don't—” he exclaimed desperately, his body moving on instinct.

The wind immediately engulfs you as the ground rapidly comes closer and closer. You feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins, looking at the blue sky, the thrill of the freefall mixing with the intense rush of the air hitting your back.

In an instant, a blur of red and blue rushes towards you as Homelander flies out, he flies towards you at superhuman speed shattering the glass of the other windows. He moves closing the distance between you and him in mere seconds.

From the window, Sage leans out, looking at you both with disbelief. Her eyes widened, and her mouth hangs open, speechless at the turn of events.

Homelander catches you mid-air, wrapping his arms around you, the wind still rushes around you both. You can feel his hands shaking a bit as he holds you.

You look up at him, a cheeky smirk dancing on your lips. A breathless laugh escapes you, the adrenaline still pumping through your veins. Your heart pounds, and a sense of exhilaration washes over you. The suddenness of your action still hangs in the air, and his surprise is evident in his eyes.

“Ops, I guess you picked me.”

Homelander huffs, his grip on you slightly loosening, relaxing, floating in air with you. He shakes his head, relief and frustration clear on his face.

“You're out of your goddamn mind woman.”

“Maybe I am. But, at least you still care enough to save me.” you chuckle softly, enjoying the moment of his attention.

He rolls his eyes, but you can see a smile on his lips and he's slowly moving in the hair to coming back inside the Tower.

You reach out to caress his face gently, your touch tender against his skin. Your hand trail over his jaw, feeling the slight stubble beneath your fingertips. Your other hand still grips onto the fabric of his suit, holding onto him.

“Y'know...I thought Sage brainwashed you into choosing her over me, but I'm happy to see that's not the case.”

His expression softens a little, his eyes meeting yours.

“Believe me, I think she tried. But she didn’t brainwash me at all.” he grumbles, his voice low. “I’m not that easy to control. You should know that..”

“I know you're far from being easy to control. You’re too stubborn and prideful for that.”

He huffs again, with his bold smirk on his lips. “You’re quite stubborn too, maybe more than me. Just look at your little stunt back there.”

As he lands back inside the room with you in his arms, the scene is a little chaotic. He takes a moment to check you are okay, before his eyes land on Sage, who is now passed out on the floor.

“Was really necessary to poison her? Despite your jealousy he was an excellent strategy member to the team.” he say, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Relax. She's not dead. There wasn't a single drop of poison or anything in her tea.” you look down at Sage's unconscious body, lying motionless on the floor, and a small, satisfied smile lifts the corners of your lips.

“Then why the hell is she passed out?” he asks, puzzled.

You kneel down next to her and tilt your head to the side as you examine her unconscious form. The feeling of triumph washes over you, knowing that you managed to manipulate her fear and doubt to your advantage.

“With a brain like hers, mental deceptions are more effective than anything else. It was enough for me to convince her that she had been poisoned and goodnight little sunshine.”

He lets out a low whistle, impressed by the simplicity of your tactic.

“Damn. You really know how to mess with people's heads.”

There's admiration in his voice. An admiration for you that you can still wear like a medal.

“But you really had to prove a point in such a dramatic manner, huh?”

You stand back up, brushing off your uniform and looking at Homelander with a smug smile.

“I had to do something to prove to her, and you, who your favourite really was.”

-------

Hope you like it! I will calmly continue to write about him based on your ask box requests, I will not leave anyone unsatisfied, I promise <3

#homelander x reader #homelander fanfiction #homelander the boys #homelander x fem!reader #homelander x y/n #homelander x oc #homelander x you #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #the boys series #homelander #the boys s4 #sister sage #the boys oc #the boys season 4 #my post #ask box #fanfic request #request open

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catboybiologist · 1 month ago

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Hey it's a life update that probably no one cared about or asked for

tl;dr: I'm likely quitting my PhD via mastering out, and leaving my program in June.

sappy, overly emotional vent/explanation:

I'm wrapping up my first quarter as an out-of-the-closet trans woman. I've had some serious conversations about where me and my work stand. This was always my intention after coming back from my summer hiatus/social transition: see how "reentry" works, and then assess from there.

For those that don't know, PhDs in the US take 5-7 years. Oftentimes, however, they either give you a master's along the way, or give you an option to quit halfway through with a master's. I'm in my 3rd year and have more than enough to use that option. I've toyed with this idea before, but it feels a bit different now. Last year, I was burned out from science, my project was failing, and I was under constant stress of boymoding and remaining in the closet. Now, I'm out and proud, and I deeply love my project and find it exciting. I fixed some things.

Unfortunately, I have a recurrent problem. Whenever something goes wrong in my life, the first thing to drop off is my ability to drive forward my own thesis project in a coherent way. What the actual problems are vary, but that motif stays the same. I could list off what's going on right now, but I think y'all can assume a bit of what a mid-20s, broke, recently transitioned trans woman in the US is going through at the moment. There's a lot of specifics, of course, but I'm not at liberty to say most of it.

So I'm looking around and realizing I have scraps of half finished projects, I've given support and help for other people's projects.... and then made little progress on my actual thesis. It's enough to pull together into a master's thesis, and maybe even another paper or two, but.... not a PhD.

And then there's the other side of it. The nicer reasons. Could I stay here, buckle down, maybe add years to my degree, and get through it? Probably. But honestly? I don't really want to put myself through that now. It used to be that academics was all I had. It was all my failures and all my successes. It's what I threw myself at, because I genuinely had nothing else going on. Since transitioning, the world seems so much more beautiful and rich, so much more complex and vast, with so much more to do in it. I've even had more negative experiences unrelated to academia, and while they've sucked, they've shown me that life is so much bigger than it was before.

To be blunt, to experience more of my life... it helps to have money, and it helps to have career stability. It's not the only factor by far, but certainly one defining moment when making this decision was trying to create a timeline and budget for transition related surgeries, and realizing that its near impossible in grad school.

Not to be dramatic, but I've also had a couple extremely jarring experiences in the past year that are reminded me that life is short. And I want at least some time to enjoy it.

My heart is honestly broken here, and I'm feeling extremely emotional about this. I love my lab, my colleagues, the environment of doing research, and my project. But I'm realizing that it might not be viable, or what makes me the happiest at the moment. I'm genuinely a bit distraught, and I've been crying a lot for the past few days. A lot of me feels like this is what I am, and this is what I'm good for. That I'm failing myself and every mentor that got me here. Some part of me knows that isn't true, some part of me can't let go of those feelings.

But, I know this doesn't mean "never". So many of the people in my program are significantly older than me, coming back later in life to get their degrees. I'm honestly almost positive that I'll come back to a PhD someday if I quit now. In my 30s or beyond, I think that I'll be able equipped to handle it much better.

So what's next?

Obviously, nothing is decided, and I'm just spitballing here. But I'm honestly shocked at how many viable options I have, in a very good way. A cursory scroll of Indeed was honestly therapeutic. As I said, I still love the academic research environment. I just need more money and stability, and would prefer to have a slightly different relationship to the work I do than a thesis project. Ideally, I would want to be a staff researcher in an institute or academic lab. That lets me keep a lot of the things I like about what I do now, while also making literally 2-3 times the money and having a more stable position.There's positions out there that maximize the contexts I'm the strongest and happiest with, while still being more steady and paying more. Hell, even if my responsibilities were identical, but I had more pay, I could probably more effectively address the personal problems I'm going through right now. I'm gonna stay in California for a lot of reasons, and I'm lucky that there's so many options within the state.

I have a bit of an oddball set of experience. I'll actually have two nonoverlapping master's if I do this. I already have a MS in bioinformatics, which was granted by a CS department. But my current program is in more "pure" molecular and cell biology. I'll have 5 years of grad school, 8.5 years of research experience if I include undergrad research, and instead of a PhD, 2 MSs. Which is kinda funny. But it think it helps represent my experience for what it is. I like to consider myself a "full stack" bioinformaticist- someone who can do both the experimental and analysis portions of experiments that produce large data. Hopefully I'll be able to put that to good use.

I have a lot of professional contacts that I'll slowly be reaching out to over the course of the next 6 months while I tie things up. I know this is a wildshot on tumblr of all places, but if anyone has any recommendations, advice, or contacts, I'm all ears- both for professional and job hunt related things, and also the emotional state I'm in right now.

Thank you to everyone that's made up this wonderful community we have online. I hope I'm not letting anyone down. I'll still be a biologist, I'll still be my trans self. I just won't be "Doctor" anytime soon.

#biology #academia #phd #vent

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awordsmith · 1 month ago

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where you came from 𝜗𝜚 s.r

۶ৎ in which you receive a letter detailing the death of your grandfather, head back to your hometown, and wonder if you ever should have left.

katcember

who? spencer reid x bau!reader when? s8 category: angst to fluff (comfort) content warnings: proofed! not much sad angst (more sad angst if that makes any sense), death of a family member/funeral, reader's hometown is in Europe (purely for aesthetic), more plot than spencer (kind of idk) reid with warmth word count: 11.2k a/n: this was my one of my first ideas when first posting on tumblr so i really do hope you enjoy it! there are a few words not in english, but sometimes when writing in english it's easier to say something in another language because english can be really...corny sometimes...anyway ily cari !!

The loops and curves connecting the words in that elegant font you grew up learning stuck in the back of your mind like a non-removable tumor. You could feel it. You had a time limit–but not to live. Two days. In two days you would go back to Europe, back to a continent you had thought you’d left behind years ago, a place you had thought you held no attachment to… no emotion.

Maybe, though, it was the fact that you had been gone so long, had not once gone to visit in all your time in America, and now–now your time had run out–or rather, another, no longer invisible hourglass had lost the last of its sand and someone had flipped it again, setting a new timeline in motion.

Your grandpa, your beloved nonno*–oh how you just couldn’t believe it.

It had hit you so suddenly, your mother normally sent you letters, you didn’t mind her old ways, she was raised by the man who taught you cursive and calligraphy–with craft you thought ancient, and technology was still rather new, and she wasn’t one to conform to change.

You sighed, shifting in your seat as Hotch and the rest of the team gave the profile. The lights were too bright; you stared at the floor, one leg crossed over the other, and your arms folded. You tried keeping your focus. Yes, you were dealing with your own problems, and yes, you had just gotten the letter yesterday, but these children needed you now–and if you couldn’t be at your best with a personal issue weighing on your shoulders, could you even call yourself an FBI agent?

Emily had just left the team a month ago and her replacement wasn’t bad, but she wasn’t Emily. You desperately needed your friend right now, your soul sister. She could tell you what to do and how to handle things like this, she’s been doing this a lot longer than you, has more experience–and she understood you, at least where family matters were concerned.

“You okay?” Spencer whispered as the officers went back to their desks or collected in groups–some even leaving–probably to talk about the best course of action. This guy was going to strike again, every indication of it was there on the board.

“Yeah,” you sighed, feeling your stomach growl.

He furrowed his brows, “when’s the last time you ate?”

“Uhm,” you stood, rubbing your wrist, “I’m not sure, but I’m fine, really,” you gave him a tight smile walking over to the board, “We know he’s targeting school busses on their drop off, he’s insecure about something, his physical strength? That’s the only reason he’d subdue the bus driver in a blitz attack.”

Spencer called your name–almost as a whine–and you paused. “Look,” he said, “I don’t think the rest of the team’s noticed, so if you eat, I won’t say anything…”

You frowned, rubbing an eye, “fine.”

You’d think a look of triumph came over him, but you’d be wrong. He looked resigned, but not indifferent, it was more of a soft relief. Spencer had no idea what you were going through, you hadn’t told anyone–and you weren’t really planning on it. You liked to keep your personal life separate from work as much as possible, that’s one of the reasons you and Emily had clicked so well–you were nearly identical in that department, and, well, you both could agree Clyde was a little bit of an ass. You’d never worked directly with her during her Interpol days, but when she left, Clyde became your team lead, and–well, actually, that’s, pretty self-explanatory.

A few years in, you were able to transfer to the BAU, you’d performed considerably well and Clyde had recommended and vouched for you and–well, Emily knew Clyde, okay perhaps your connections helped a little, but was it really your connections or your skill because without your skill, you wouldn’t have been recommended now would you have?

Regardless, you had known how massive the opportunity was, which is why you’d said yes without a second thought. You joined the team two years ago, when Emily had shown no sign of leaving. You sighed, rubbing your hands together, they were sweaty and you felt sick, maybe you should try eating something.

“Alright,” you affirmed again, “come on you’re driving.”

You threw the keys that had been lying on the table next to the board at Spencer, he’d been close to Emily too, you assumed they still spoke sometimes when they got the chance as you did with her. Your mutual bond was probably–at least you considered it the most probable–reason for why you grew so close in such a short amount of time.

You were close in age, too, which you assumed added to the comfort.

Spencer took you to the closest fast food and you ate in the car devouring each bite. He asked for coffee and “real” sugar on the side, and then he sat there and watched you eat, and when you were finished he drove you back to the police station.

The case took you to Santa Monica, California. Penelope had ushered you all into the room as soon as you’d got into the office this morning, honestly, you were expecting it, and with the hurriedness she had, you knew it couldn’t be anywhere near good–though you considered none of the cases you received “good”, this one involved children, and it seemed they were the prime target, but what you couldn’t figure out was why.

He didn’t kill all the children–in fact, in both cases, the unsub only killed three kids; it seemed as if he was targeting specific children, but they all came from relatively different backgrounds, and both schools–when considering the environment and looking at it from a geographical perspective–weren’t at all in near-to-similar neighborhoods. Even the two kids that were killed on the same bus had no connection, they weren’t friends, the witnesses said the boys stayed away from each other unintentionally, they just never seemed to cross paths and it just did not make sense.

You wanted–no needed–to figure this out, for the next potential victims–but the team had no clue as to which school he’d hit next. For this reason, Penelope was emailing schools at the masses to keep them on high alert.

“He’s targeting school buses,” you said, taking a sip of your water. “Not schools…” Spencer nodded and you asked, “Why?”

“Perhaps something happened to him on a school bus?”

“It’s important,” you agreed, “but wouldn’t that make him–like–fifteen?”

“No,” Spencer shook his head, “a fifteen-year-old wouldn’t have this much time, he’d have been caught by now.”

“The survivors say he wore a mask, he called the students by name–”

“But not their name–maybe he’s living in a delusion?” Spencer’s speaking sped up, “maybe he’s not fifteen but he’s reliving his teenage days. Maybe he was bullied and now he wants revenge?”

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain going after high school kids now. Why not just go after the people his anger is directed toward?”

“Because he can’t? Maybe they’re substitutes?”

“We need to tell the others.”

Spencer nodded, you rushed out of the car and into the police station, catching Morgan, Hotch, and JJ leaning over a phone, talking to Penelope. You explained your theory and funnily enough, Penelope had just found school records that supported it. Each victim had been suspended within the past year, accused of bullying or inflicting some type of physical or mental pain on another student.

Complaints about the victims were filed by students, so now you knew your unsub had access to all this information, the question was what title did someone need in order to garner this details.

“That has to be how he’s choosing his victims,” Morgan said.

Hotch thought for a second, then nodded, “All alright, call Rossi and Blake, tell them to get here, Penelope, are you still on?”

“Running and ready, sir,” she confirmed, “All alright, give me a list of the next potential targets, all kids who have been suspended or complained about in the last year due to bullying, narrow the search to males, fifteen older.”

“Sir, do you want me to narrow the search between the two schools?”

“No,” Hotch sighed, looking each of you in your eyes, “I want the entire city–”

“Hotch–”

Spencer’s eyes narrowed in confusion, but Hotch cut him off, “you really want to sit around waiting for another body?”

Everyone went silent and Spencer’s eyes flitted to you for a moment, almost as in reassurance.

“He’s right, Hotch,” you stepped forward, trying to push away all thoughts of what was to be expected of you in two days.

“You,” Hotch narrowed his eyes as if just now suspecting something was up with you.

A silent staring contest ensued, though it was quickly broken when an officer burst into your makeshift bullpen. “Another body was discovered.” Your heart sunk and you glanced to Spencer for comfort, his eyes drifting to yours for the same thing.

It always just seemed a little bit more painful when children were involved. Your stomach lurched and you felt sick, wanting to throw up the food you’d just eaten. You just wanted this all to be over so you could focus on your family issues. It might have been selfish, but wasn’t that your right? You couldn’t think about this right now, you needed to find this guy before he murdered another innocent kid.

“Give Garcia the geographical point and have her narrow the search.”

Hotch directed at Spencer, turning to JJ, “Stay here, help him and Rossi figure out what career our unsub might have. Morgan go Blake to check out the new crime scene, and,” he turned to you, “Come with me.”

You turned to Spencer one last time, not wanting to leave him. You were always together, working together, that is. Hotch never split you up so you thought there must be a reason for it now, but why, well, you couldn’t know for certain. You shook your head and followed him out the door. He seemed to wait for you with pause, his expression unreadable, almost like he was analyzing you. You tilted your head in warning and he finally relented.

“Let’s go.”

From that point forward, there wasn’t really much of a struggle, it just sucked you had been called in so late, and that another kid had died before you caught the guy. Four kids in total, three crime scenes. The ride back on the jet was tense.

Everyone seemed to need their own space whenever you dealt with a case like this, you, well, you’d play with Spencer’s hair, if you were really tired, he’d let you lean against his shoulder or use his lap as a pillow and sleep. This time, though, you were restless and you couldn’t find the need to sleep anywhere. You knew you probably should,but…it was just too much.

You couldn’t stay seated, you paced back and forth, your mind fleeting from the case to the letter you’d received yesterday. You’d brought it with you and you hesitated only for a second before pulling it from your bag and sitting in one of the empty rows. You could feel eyes on you, though they were trying to pretend they weren’t looking.

You wanted to say you could see them, say you weren’t in need of monitoring, but you were the youngest on the team, and despite your closeness, with Emily particularly, they all cared for you, which is why when JJ slid into the seat across from you you resisted rolling your eyes.

“Are you okay? You’ve been kind of… not yourself.”

“I’m fine, JJ, thanks.” You returned your eyes to your mother’s letter.

“You sure?” she asked, “is it your mother? Has something happened?”

She motioned toward the letter. They’d gotten accustomed to seeing you read over the renaissance looking artifacts throughout the day. That wasn’t the unusual part, no JJ was talking about how you weren’t attached to Spencer’s hip, how you avoided them all almost the entire day, and how you had been so focused on the case as if you were trying to make something else dissappear.

“We’re all here for you, you know.” She reached her hand out, rubbing her thumb over it.

“Yeah,” Morgan motioned for JJ to scoot over, “we’re a family, you know.”

“Aww, I wish I was there,” Penelope said from the other side of Morgan’s phone. You wanted to scoff, but a sad smile pressed to your mouth instead. They were cornering you as if they’d planned it.

Your eyes flitter over toward Rossi and Hotch who were pretending not to listen and Blake, who was evidently really not, then they landed on Spencer’s who stood suddenly from his normal spot in the front of the jet and began walking toward you. “See, even pretty boy’s upset.”

“I am not upset,” Spencer scoffed, sliding into the seat next to you. But then he held your gaze as if trying to communicate with his eyes, “but we are here for you, you know I’m always here, and…I’m sure if you called, Emily would be too.”

You took a breath, and when it came out it was shuddering, and that was the first time crying had crossed your mind. So, you said–first in general, “My grandfather just passed, I’m supposed to leave in two days for his funeral.” You let them take it in, then, “I need time off, Hotch.”

A snort came from Rossi and the team frowned at him, but you smiled, why was he so unserious all the time? You rolled your eyes, but then Penelope spoke up from the phone in Morgan’s pocket, “if you need someone to go with you, I’d be willing.”

Your eyes swelled at her offer and you opened your mouth to say ‘Really?’ but Spencer said, “I’d go too–you know, if you wanted that is,” before you could open your mouth.

“Thank you,” you nodded, “I’d like that…and you know…it wouldn’t hurt if the rest of you came as well,” your admission scared you, what were you doing? This is the exactly the opposite response Emily would have given, but maybe you weren’t as strong as Emily, and maybe…maybe that was okay.

“When are we leaving again?” Rossi sighed, pulling out his phone, “I’ll have to check my schedule.” And with that you let loose a snort, appreciating the kindness of your team.

“Jack, Will, and Henry are welcome to come as well.” You said, “And that girlfriend of yours, Hotch,” you added, “I think I’d be able to brave my family again if I had the Guardians of the Galaxy with me.”

“What about Strauss?” JJ suddenly asked, “What are we gonna tell her?”

“Oh you let me worry about her,” Blake smiled, though you had been sure she wasn’t even listening.

“You’re from Europe right?”

You huffed a sigh, “Yes, Rossi, I’m sure we’re not cousins.”

A few chuckled as Rossi responded with a nod and a smug grin, “Just checking.”

You claimed the window seat, forcing Spencer to sit in the middle, though you had to climb over him multiple times to use the bathroom, you didn’t care, and neither did he…much. You thought you’d be able to sleep, but just like on the jet, you found yourself restless, and Spencer, well, he couldn’t help but ask.

The first question was simple, “how do you feel about going home?”

You laughed, a bitter expression framing your face, “I don’t know.” You were lying, though he wasn’t sure if you knew that fact yourself as you seemed genuine. The only way he knew for sure your response wasn’t what your subconscious truly thought was was by the way your lips pressed together right before you spoke, that was your tell.

He didn't know if you knew you did it, but he’d caught on to it pretty quickly when you’d first met, it had been something small, but he remembered it as clearly as if it were playing out right now in front of him. It had to do with your favorite food. Morgan had said he’d overheard you talking to Emily about how you wanted a certain order from this new restaurant because it tasted like the one you had back home, and to surprise you, he had brought it in one day and set it on your desk, brimming with energy to see your reaction.

You were confused at first, but when you saw him, you’d grinned, prying to box open, then your eyebrows had shot up and he’d asked you if it was your favorite food. You’d pressed your lips together and nodded, grimacing with the first bite, “I love it, thank you.”

Later on, he’d smacked Morgan for the first time upside the head, running away quickly after, Morgan had chased him for some time until Hotch had told them to stop acting like, “idiots,” and thst, “Jack acthas better self control than you two most days.”

“Do you have any pets at home?” He asked, watching you stretch out your arms above your head, deflating against your seat.

You smiled, “I used to have a dog, but she died before I left for university.”

“I’m sorry,” he frowned.

“Don’t be, she wasn’t really mine, but my sister’s.”

He nodded, it was early morning, everyone had gotten up way before they’d wanted to, except him. He was ready to go a bit too early, and when he’d picked you up at your apartment, it seemed as if you hadn’t slept much either.

“Hey, Spencer?” You suddenly whispered.

“Yeah?” He stared down at you as you began to move, causing him to shift until his body aligned with yours and your back hit his chest.

“Do you want to hear a boring story?” He quirked a brow, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face. To the normal eye, you seemed incredibly close, strangely close–a couple kind of close, but to the team and between the two of you, it was more like the relationship Penelope and Dereck had, although instead of heaty words, it was comforting gestures like this, that, and you were always attached at the hip, you were partners with each other before anyone else, work partners that is.

“What’s a boring story?” He asked and you didn’t know if he was trying to be poetic, but it brought a smile to your face.

“My grandfather,” you focussed your eyes on the window, finding warmth in being pressed against him, his arms acting as a blanket that wrapped around you. “He was old in age, I mean, I knew that even when I was a kid, but there were times,” you shook your head recalling the moments in your mind.

Spencer kept quiet, listening intently as he rubbed circles on the exposed inner corner of your elbow.

“He would take me on adventures and back then, he seemed so young, so exceptionally immortal. It was otherworldly,” your voice got quieter as you continued, “I don’t know how to face him,” you sighed–God it seemed like all you could do for the past 45 hours was sigh.

“Tell me,” he whispered, “tell me about the adventures.”

You paused, turning your head slightly to see him, you’d done this countless times, but for some reason, it seemed more pertinent now. More….significant, “my grandad,” you murmured, “he was my captain. That was the game. We’d go to the pier sometimes, or the forest, and he’d always have these elaborate scavenger hunts set up in advance. He really–” you blinked and breathed, “...he was really good at things like that.”

“Setting up games?” Spencer asked incredulously, but you knew it was good-natured, meant to bring the smile that had so evidently fallen off back to your face.

“At crafting and cultivating imagination.”

“Ah,” Spencer nodded, “yeah how did I miss that?”

You smacked is chest playfully.

“How do you feel about seeing your family, how long has it been?”

You gazed out the window again, there was low chatter around the plain, it was dark, the lights were off, and most people were asleep. You pondered briefly about why Spencer was still up and deigned to ask him when sunlight shone through the window, blinding you momentarily. It wasn’t a lot nor was it as bright as you were used to, and it was quickly hidden behind the clouds once more, but you smiled at it anyway.

“A new beginning,” you raised your hand, blocking the slight sunlight that filtered in now and then, not really sure what you meant.

Spencer chuckled, reaching out to grab your wris. He held it, waving it around as if you were casting a non-verbal spell.

“We don’t have to talk about it now,” he whispered, “but whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

“I know you will,” you replied as easily as if you hadn’t said anything at all. “You always are.”

And again, for a moment, you pondered why that was, why Spencer always seemed to be the only person–other than Emily–who was always there for you when you needed someone, why he was the only person you wanted there when things went wrong.

It was a question that had bubbled up over the last month since Emily had left. You’d begun to lean on him a lot more, yes, but you could very well just have as easily called Emily. Spencer wasn’t lying, you knew she would pick up no matter what, but oddly, you found you didn't want to call her because–you already had the person you needed with you. And he would always be there, even if you stopped working together, Spencer would always be there.

You were sure you could call him in the middle of the night and he’d come running. But why would you want to? You shook the dangerous thought away.

“It’s sunrise,” he said, pulling your attention back to the window. Slowly, he brought your hand to once again rest on your stomach.

“We still have about 5 hours,” you sighed, noting the time.

He leaned back, shifting in his seat, “Then we better get comfortable.”

You wondered what you’d do first when you landed, would you have so much jet lag you wouldn’t be able to see your family for some time? Would you be able to sleep? Finally? Where would your grandpa be? Probably at the funeral home. Would other family members be traveling into the city for the funeral? If they were they’d have to stay at the main house, there wewould be no other space available in the others.

You were only staying three days, and if Stauss called you in early, you’d have no choice, but to leave before that. You were able to solve one more case before you left, though you had still strained for sleep, everyone else seemed to be a little overly excited. Blake stayed to help other teams, she was new and you weren’t that close, though she didn’t seem to mind.

She was like Rossi in that department, unable to take days away from work as she ran on catching these guys. But for you, and everyone else on the team, you were sure, you couldn’t wait for your days off.

They were the closest thing you got to normalcy, that and time with Spencer outside of work, it was time in your world, one where bad guys didn’t exist, one where you could escape into the realities of a Charlotte Bontë novel, one your grandpa had gifted you before you could remember a life without it.

You wanted to thank Spencer, but you didn’t know how. You wanted to thank everyone, really, but Spencer most of all, and instead of thinking about why, of letting it plague your thoughts, you leaned further into him, rubbed your face into his soft sweater vest, and closed your eyes.

Penelope threw her head back as she grabbed her suitcase, “where to now?” Spencer pushed her sunhat out of the way. She was in for a rude awakening, it was winter in Europe, and though most people were on holiday, that only meant the airports would be extra lively.

“First, let’s make sure we have everyone.” You began counting of heads, narrowing your eyes, “where’s Hotch?”

“We’re here!” Jack came running, Hotch sprinting after him. It was not too odd a sight, for you to see Hotch in dad mode, he normally had that look on when Spencer did something stupid or Penelope said too much on speaker–but this, oh this was gold.

Rossi snapped a photo with an old camera he’d brought along, chuckling when Hotch glared at him. “Alright,” you nodded, noting Hotch’s girlfriend slowly filling the space beside him. “Now, my immediate family isn’t that big, but the rest of the family does live in the same town, so you’ve all been assigned housemates.”

“Housemates?” JJ raised a brow.

“I’ll,” you checked the time, “explain on the train, come on.”

You were honestly surprised everyone had come, you’d invited them because you truly had thought them being here would lessen the pain, but to think that they all wanted to be here for you as well, even Rossi had come–and he hated taking vacation time. Though, the most surprising had to be the fact that Blake had actually succeeded in getting Straus to let you all come.

You stayed together, it was easy for some, though others kept getting sidetracked. You stopped a few times to look at a few shops and monuments, though you kept explaining to Penelope she’d have more than enough time later to go on her mini explorations.

You supposed it was normal though, that was how you were your first time in America–your first time in any new country or state, really. Most everyone had never been to Europe, even for you it felt like stepping into a storybook. You hadn’t been home in so long, it was like a lost memory.

Though afternoon, the day was getting dark already, and people were milling about, readying for Christmas–your heart lurched, and though you tried not thinking about him too much, you couldn’t help but wonder if your grandfather had been alone during his passing, what were his last words? His last thoughts? Rainclouds not only drew to the sky but your mind as well.

You felt more than guilty, that was the only way you could describe the horrid emotion twisting in your gut ever since you’d received the letter. You hadn’t seen your parents–your sister–face to face in a long time. It was part of the guilt of moving to America without giving them a heads up and for leaving when you knew they wanted you to stay.

Your older sister had stayed, why couldn’t you have? There really was no explanation other than you just couldn’t. It felt small, suffocating. You loved your hometown, but eventually, you knew there had to be something more out there, something more calling your name, and the longer you stayed, the more you buried that feeling, the less motivated to do anything you got.

So, you saved up during your uni days and took the first position in America you’d found, which is how you ended up at Interpol, climbing the ranks slowly but surely and eventually working with Clyde.

You reached the train station, the cool weather making everything around you a tint of blue. The benches that sat in front of the train tracks were taken up by Jack, Henry, and Will, who’d been carrying a ton of baby supplies. You paused, checked your watch again, nodded, and turned your face toward everyone again, “Alright people, here’s the plan. My family knows you're coming, one of the reasons they were okay with it is because we own a few properties and can house you all, hence your housemates, or if you prefer, hosts.” You glanced at JJ, “You, Will, and Henry will be staying with my sister and her husband. She has two kids so she’s used to the noise.”

You had thought about letting Hotch stay with your sister, but that would have just been too weird. No, instead you’d paired Hotch up with one of your cousins, who was married, but had no kids. Jack was older, no longer in diapers, and had a controlled temper, so it seemed perfect.

You relayed this information and moved on, “Penelope and Morgan, you’re staying with my aunt and uncle on my dad’s side, trust me, you’ll be thanking me–and Rossi, you’re with my aunt an uncle on my mom’s side Is that everyone then?” You looked around, nodding.

“Hang on,” Rossi held up a hand, “I don’t like the way you said that last part.”

“That’s everyone then?” You ignored him, “All alright, the train should be here–” You cut off your sentence as the train pulled into the station, “...right on time.”

Waiting your turn to step onto the train as people made their way off, you felt around in your pocket for the letter one last time, sighing in relief when you it was still there. You grabbed your suitcase and began pulling it aboard the train when Spencer grabbed your arm and held you back. You glanced at everyone else boarding the train, making sure you had time before turning back, “Uhm,” he frowned, looking awkward, “where am I staying?”

“Hmm?” Your eyebrows furrowed and you looked at your watch again, “with me and my parents.” You said it so simply, as if it were an afterthought–as if it was so incredibly obvious that you didn’t think you had to mention it.

“Oh,” he didn’t know how to feel, he was a little embarrassed, but there was something else…sick? He didn’t know, but it made him bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.

“Come on,” you latched your hand onto his wrist and yanked him onto the train, “before it leaves without us.”

You honestly wanted to go straight to your parent's house, but you knew you had to introduce your co-workers/friends to your family so when you left it wasn’t so weird, though the only one who complained was Rossi, you couldn’t blame him, but at the same time you found it funny. He swore up and down you had put him in this position on purpose and he didn’t find it funny–“Not one bit,” he’d said right before you left him in his room. “I’ll get you back for this,” he’d warned.

Once you’d left JJ, Will, and Henry at your sisters–she hadn’t been home, thank God, as you didn’t think you could face her just yet–you and Spencer hailed a cab and had all but drifted off to sleep during the ride to your childhood home. Your mom had been the firstborn, so she’d gotten the main house, though your grandparents never left. They had kind acted as your second parents growing up and you were incredibly close, especially you and your grandfather…and now he was gone. You bit the inner corner of your cheek, feeling like you wanted to cry but just couldn’t find the comfort to do so.

Spencer noticed, of course, that you were leaning on him, and had been the entire cab ride. When the it came to a stop in front of a large, three-story Victorian house, he hesitated before shaking you awake. He wouldn’t have done it if he knew what to do, but this wasn’t his house and this was the first time he was going to meet your parents, though it excited him, he couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why.

You were like–his platonic soulmate, nothing had ever happened between you two and just because you were going to be sleeping in the same house, probably a few feet apart, didn’t mean anything was going to start now. Morgan slept at Penelope’s all the time and though Spencer always suspected they were more, nothing had ever happened, which meant it was possible for a guy and a girl to just be friends–and yet, here is was, palms sweating, mind running, mouth drying as he walked up the trail leading to the front door of your parent’s house.

A knock, and hushed whispers, and then the door opened, your mother standing in the doorway with a bright smile on her face. She called your name and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a hug. You wondered if your grandpa was at the funeral home still, if he was cold, which was a stupid thought, he couldn’t feel anything, he was gone, no longer here roaming the earth, telling his outdated jokes and taking you on secret journey’s, and you were no longer that little girl who laughed at his outdated jokes and believed in the magic of his secret journeys.

When you pulled away your mother, with her now thinning, grayed hair pulled into a tight ponytail and the wrinkles lining her frail face–said, “Oh, let me get a look at you.”

She took a step back and that’s when your father came into view, “Dad,” you smiled, the feeling almost overwhelming.

He pulled you into another hug, and just when you didn’t know if you could handle seeing one more relative you hadn’t seen in ages, your grandmother shouted from somewhere on the first floor, “Is that her? Is she here?”

Your heart seized itself and you took a step back, unknowingly stepping into Spencer’s personal space. You turned to apologize, but your grandmother had already wobbled in on her two dainty legs, as quickly as she could have if in her prime. Her old crone eyes narrowed, “nice of you to grace us with your presence.” She sprinkled salt on the floor as she glowered.

“Mom,” your mother groaned.

“What?” She crossed her arms and turned her head as if she had things better to do than welcome the granddaughter–who’d left everything behind–back into her life.

“It’s fine, Mom,” you reassured as your father went to close the door behind you’d walked in, Spencer gled to your back.

Your grandmother stomped out of the room in old lady fashion. “How are you dear? Have you been getting my letters?”

You cringed, “Yes,” though you never sent one back, you did always text a message, thanking your mom for writing you, she’d only heart it, though, which left you wondering if maybe you should’ve picked up a pen and paper. “I keep them all secure in a drawer.”

She nodded, a placid smile falling to her lips, “Well, you must be tired and–” she glanced at you, then at Spencer, then at your father and held his gaze for a moment before returning her eyes to you, “who’s your…”

“Oh, this is Spencer,” you patted his chest as if that was explanation enough.

Your mother nodded, not really sure how to take it, she turned to Spencer, hoping he’d offer a little more information, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Spencer stared at her hand, contemplating and you were just about to say something about it when he reached out and shook it. Slack-jawed, you eyed him suspiciously, turning away in a huff. When you’d first met him, he’d refused to shake your hand, sure he had come a long way since then, but it still annoyed you for some reason.

“Come, let me show you your rooms.”

Your mother led you up the starcase than faded into a small stairwell, leading up to the second floor. The wood was old mahogany, though you weren’t paying much attention to it. At the end of the left hall was another staircase that led to the third floor, but even half awake you knew it was probably locked. It always had been.

You recognized the wallpaper, a deep, forest green and you half wondered if the wallpaper in your bedroom had changed, if it had been converted into a guest bedroom. Your mother gave Spencer the guest room down the hall. You waved goonight to him before heading into your room. He paused his eyes taking in your childhood home.

It was so incredibly different from his, but it also felt…small. You were this giant, bubble of energy and a quiet town in Europe just dind’t seem to add up to your personality. He sighed and pulled open the door, you weren’t a few steps away like he had hoped, but you were close enough. He stopped himself–this was completely bizarre, even for him. This was more up–well, he didn’t know, but it wasn’t up his alley.

Tired, you’d turned in for the night, though your eyes caught on all the things you’d left behind, you told yourself you’d look at it in the morning. You were glad everyone was here supporting you, you were especially glad to have Spencer–were glad he came, but then of course he came, that was just the kind of person he was.

You turned off the lamp on the bedside table, burying your face in the sheets, finding yourself still unable to cry, but whispering, “You would have liked him a lot, nonno*.” Which was madness, firstly, why did it matter if you grandfather would have liked Spencer or not. Secondly, your grandfather was gone, and the whole reason you were here was because of that fact. Maybe you just couldn’t accept it yet and that’s why you were thinking all these weird thoughts, why you couldn't cry.

You sighed, shutting your eyes, hoping you wouldn’t dream; to face tomorrow, you would just need sleep. Sleep and a lot of quiet.

You cracked open one eye, light trickling in through the curtains though it wasn’t bright. You left your door ajar as you headed toward the bathroom. There was soft chatter on the first floor, and you were sure your grandmother and parents were awake. The faint aroma of coffee wafted through the air and you wondered if Spencer was up too.

You didn’t have to wait long to find out as he stepped out of the bathroom just as you went to open the door. His hair was wet and he was wearing a white collared shirt under a brown sweater vest. He smiled when he saw you, though your eyes were drawn to the water dripping down his forehead. He was holding a towel, you assumed to try and dry it, though it looked if he hadn’t had much success.

“Morning.” You murmured.

“Good morning,” he echoed, stepping out of the way. “You’re parents said I could,” he motioned behind him, pressing his lips together when you raised a brow. He nodded, “hurry? I am kind of nervous.”

You snorted and shook your head, “sure thing, piccolo*.”

You shut the bathroom door behind you, feeling an airy sensation float through your body as you began pulling your clothes off.

Half an hour later, you found Spencer in his room still trying to dry his hair. “You should just let it air dry.” You voiced, tucking a lock of your own wet hair behind your ear.

He looked up when you opened the door, sighing, and setting the hand towel to the side. His hair was nearly dry, though he was trying to get the wet bits in the back.

You huffed, climbing on the bed and sitting behind him on your knees, “let me see it.” You began massaging the now-damp towel into his hair, trying to use the little dry parts it still had left. He chuckled, jerking his head slightly when the towel rubbed a sensitive spot. You smirked, “that tickle?”

He huffed another laugh, “stop,” he called your name in warning, “I’m serious.”

You laughed, running the towel teasingly up and down his neck. He jerked and eventually jumped up, pushing you backward on accident. He launched a tickle attack, fingers jabbing at your sides, your neck, under your arms, and when you thought he couldn’t get any worse, he sought your feet, your sockless feet.

“Okay!” You snorted, “Okay, you win!”

“What?” He asked, staring down at you with triumph.

“Oh, don’t be an ass.”

He grinned playfully, but relented, “Alright, come on, your parents probably want to see you.”

You huffed a sigh and threw your head back, the pillows coming to its rescue as you let your hands come to rest on your stomach, “do we have to?” His grin eased into a gentle smile and you gave in, jumping up, “Yeah, fine.”

You headed downstairs, passing picture frames from past relatives. There were so many ancient trinkets that your generations had left behind, Spencer said it was like walking through time, and it honestly was. Not just because the house was built in the middle 1800s, but because everything from the wallpaper to the furniture, and right down to the people still living in it–had that reminiscent aura about them.

“Nice of you to join us.” Your grandmother said as you walked in, “And who’s this, a boyfriend?”

Your mother sent hers a warning glare before turning back to you, “good morning, please sit,” she motioned toward the breakfast table.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Spencer said taking the seat beside you, “again.”

Your mother laughed and waved a hand, “There is no need for formalities, but I do want to thank you for coming.” She glanced at you momentarily, but you avoided her eyes. You knew you would eventually have to speak to everyone again, but you weren’t ready for that yet.

“So, how long have you been dating my daughter?” Your father asked. You would have choked on the tea had you drunk any prior. Your eyes widened instead and you turned to Spencer apologetically, but he didn’t seem at all fazed, “we’re just friends.”

His smile seemed content, but your grandmother scoffed. You turned to her, almost already fed up with the little attitude that’d been present since your arrival. You knew she had always preferred the company of your sister, and she detested you for leaving without a word–not to her, but to your grandfather.

You frowned, wanting to ask about it, but you couldn’t find words that would bring the least amount of sadness to the room.

“Are you going out today?” Your father changed the subject, turning toward Spencer. He seemed to catch on to the fact that you were uncomfortable, so he directed all his questions at your beloved pretty boy.

Spencer answered them with ease–to which you knew you’d be in debt. An hour went by and Penelope was blowing up the team group chat, asking when you were meeting up. Eventually, you knew you’d have to take her around town and to be honest, you could use a little distraction from the looming presence of being around the rest of your family when they got in this afternoon.

“When will you be back?” Your mother asked

“Not sure,” you replied, more clipped than you meant for it to be.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on her,” Spencer reassured, trying to ease the tension.

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” your grandmother poked her head out of nowhere.

You shot her a glare and said, “Is this your way of seeing me off?”

Shocked by your reply, she tutted and jerked her head away, with closed eyes and crossed arms. You rolled your eyes, whispering, “see you later,” in the softest voice you could manage.

“That was…”

You huffed, wrapping your arms around yourself, “tell me about it.”

“So…your grandmother…”

“She hates me because I left, deep down they all do.” You frowned, but no tears came, they seemed to evade you.

Spencer pressed his lips together, normally he had the perfect response for anything you said, but you never spoke about your family. You were always sure to draw a boundary, you were very much like Emily in that sense, or at least he thought so.

You took a cab to the pier, agreeing to meet at the beach seemed simple. There were a few people, mostly locals though, your hometown wasn’t a place tourists normally visited. The main reason this town was able to survive was because a lot of the residents were wealthy, and that wealth stayed in the family and–well, the families stayed here.

“Woah,” Penelope yelped at the fourth store you stopped in, “we have to look around,” she said, eye-widening. Jack and Henry were milling about together, looking at little trinkets. You recognized the shop, it was an antique toy store–your grandfather had bought all your gifts over the years from this one in particular, some were secondhand, but they were sentimental to you and you had taken a few with you when you’d moved to America.

“Babygirl, calm down.” Morgan laughed, following her down an aisle.

“How’s everyone settling in?” You asked, turning to Rossi when he huffed and muttered something under his breath. “What was that?” You leaned in, grinning.

Spencer pulled you back just as Rossi glared and called you a sadist. “We’re doing fine, your sister is nice.” JJ smiled, “she was asking about you,” she paused, waiting to see if it was an alright topic of conversation. When she realized you were waiting patiently for her to continue, she did, “she said she was sorry for not being home when you dropped us off. She wanted to catch up.”

You took a breath, your cheeks seemingly hot in the cold weather. “I know it’s not my place,” Will started, catching your eyes, “...but I…I think you should talk to her…”

You frowned at him, contemplating, then you nodded, sigh slipping past your lips, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Oh!” Penelope shouted, “Gelato, my phone says there’s a gelato place right around the corner!”

You noticed Morgan walking up behind her when a laugh–though it sounded more like a croak–rang through your ears. “Your phone would be correct,” an old woman rounded the counter, short as could be. Her eyes bounced from face to face, settling on yours, “I told your old wench of a grandmother you’d come back. Were it for anything it’d be for him.” She sighed, “Come here, let me have a spin, my God how long has it been?”

You wanted to say eight years, but you neglected that subject and instead focussed your memory on figuring out who this woman was.

“Hmm,” she hummed after a moment, taking a step back, her arms so incredibly bony they looked as if they might snap with the slightest pressure. Her pallor was somewhat tanned, and there were a few black spots up and down her exposed skin.

“You’re nonna’s old classmate.” It clicked, she was always stopping by the house in your earlier days, and she’d sometimes sit on the wraparound porch, sipping wine with your grandmother.

“Did you forget me already capretta*?” She chuckled as if she’d made a joke.

The rest of your group had deemed the conversation not there’s to listen in on, so they’d taken to wandering around the shop, the only one who stayed–partially because he wanted to and partially because you’d grabbed his wrist when he had tried walking away–was Spencer.

“I’m not a little girl anymore,” you murmured, “you shouldn’t call me that.”

“Oh, you’ll always be capretta* to me, you and all the others.” She smiled, her beady eyes watching you for a moment, as if expecting you to do something brash. Eventually, she said, “his funeral is tomorrow, yes?”

“Yeah,” saying it brought out a wave of pain. Your mouth felt heavy and your stomach dropped to your feet.

She nodded, “have you decided what you’re going to say?”

You shook your head, “I won’t be speaking.”

She paused, disappointment flashing across her face, “well, I’m sorry to hear that.” You pressed your lips together and began turning away, ready to get out of this uncomfortable situation, but she wasn’t finished, “you know, I’m sure he’s happy you’re here.”

Spencer watched you close your eyes, take a deep, shuddering breath, and open them carefully. He watched them gloss over and without thinking about it, snaked a hand behind your back, as if holding you to this earth would help you in some way, unbeknownst to him, it did. His touch grounded you, and you thought, another debt to be owed.

“You’re amante*,” she said right before you walked back outside.

“He’s not my–” you waved your hands but your your words faltered as she shook a cloth at you, a knowing smile adorning her face.

“Maybe not yet, capretta*.”

You sighed, yanking Spencer outside. “What did she say?” He asked as if he couldn’t use damned context clues.

“Nothing,” you responded, but Rossi raised an eyebrow, holding up his hands when you shot him a look, your eyes flashing in warning.

The other’s finally joined you outside and you spent a few more hours acting as a tour guide. When you deemed it time to go home, you told everyone to be ready in formal attire around 8, the rest of your family would be coming in, staying at the main house as it was the last place that still had room, and a small party would ensue. Everyone only came together for weddings and funerals so they tended to make the most of it.

You weren’t really looking forward to seeing the rest of your cousins, hell you could barely face your immediate family, extended seemed a little too much too soon.

You thought about hiding up in your room, you hadn't had much time to take it in yet and you thought it might help.

Relatives started arriving around 7:30. Spencer had wandered down to your room and knocked, though you could hear the hesitation in it. “Come in,” you said, sitting up.

He walked through, shutting the door softly behind him. “So this is where I find all your secrets.” He chirped, an easy smile settling on his face as joined you on the bed, leaning back. “It’s pink,” he noted.

“Hey,” you said, “the wallpaper came with the room.”

He huffed a laugh, his eyes catching on a few blankets stacked neatly on a shelf linear your bed, “are those your baby blankets?”

“No,” you laid back down, the lamp at your side dimming slightly. “I think I stole those from my sister.”

He smiled, “I wonder what it’s like to have a sibling.”

You smiled, recalling all the idiotic fights you’d get into, how your parents would send you two to your room until you, “learned to love each other”. “She’s older by a few years,” your voice carried through the silent room, though it was lively on the first floor. You suddenly remembered you had a third, but you couldn’t recall a single memory of you being allowed there as is had always been locked.

“Do you want to talk about her?” He asked after a while.

You debated, on one hand, it might be good practice for when you spoke to her, on the other hand, what would you even say? You had no idea how she’d been these past eight years, what her life was like. What could you say and so you said, “ask me about her.”

He hummed for a moment, falling on, “why’d you steal the blankets?”

Your lips pressed together and you tried piecing together an accurate depiction of the event. “Well, she’d got them on a trip with our grandmother. My grandfather and I had been on an adventure, I think we were in the forest, I can’t remember,” you sat up and pushed yourself off the bed, walking over to the dresser and bending down to the shelf that held the blankets.

Spencer sat up, letting his eyes follow you, he felt warm, not anxious. Though his mind was working slowly, he found he didn’t mind. You seemed to calm everything down for him, it was a sense of comfort he hadn’t known he’d needed until you came into his life, and his headaches from before had slowly ceased the closer the two of you got.

“This one,” you held up, “was originally hers.” You brought it to him as he pushed himself to the edge of the bed, his feet sprawled around you. You didn’t think twice before stepping in between him, but you had never done that before and it caught him off guard. You had never been in such proximity when you were both wide awake, and you certainly had never faced each other like this.

Nevertheless, he didn’t mind–in fact, he was finding it increasingly obvious that he preferred you to be as close to him as possible. He ran a hand over the smooth ruffles of the white blanket. It was pleaded with light pink embroidery. “You should give it to your daughter.” He heard himself say, though his throat went dry right after.

“You think so?” You found yourself wanting to be closer to him–as if I’m not close enough, you scolded yourself.

“Yeah,” he looked up at you, and gosh–it looked like he wanted you, and gosh–you felt your heartbeat speed up.

Your body moved on its own, stepping forward, loving the way his legs close together to entrap you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, dropping the blanket down beside him. You lifted your knees onto either side of his waist and sat in his lap, his arms snaking around your hips. “Hi,” you murmured, a nervous��almost hesitant–expression falling over your features.

His eyes flitted between your lips and your eyes, but he managed to force out a, “hi.”

You bit your lip and it drew his gaze instantly, you could feel his heart palpitate in his chest, almost as fast as yours. His eye fluttered close and his head fell back when you ran your hands through his hair. You didn’t know what you were doing, you told yourself multiple times, unsure of why this was happening–now of all times, oh your sweet nonno! Forgive me, you pleaded.

You angled your head forward, ready to do the one thing you’d knew your subconscious had been wanting for God knew how long, but then a knock sounded on the door and Spencer’s eyes opened once again.

“Who–” you cleared your throat, “who is it?”

“Uhm,” a nervous chuckle came from the other side of the door, “it..it’s me.” Your sister. You cursed, glanced at Spencer, then with an apologetic look, unraveled yourself from his embrace.

You walked toward the door, trying to fix your nettled clothing in the process. You took a breath and paused, then opened the door. Your sister stood there, tall, lean, and elegant, as you remembered her to be. “Hi,” she smiled, tilting her head.

You smiled back, trying your best to not give away what had just been going on–what the actual hell was just going on? You wanted to contemplate it more, wanted to ask yourself what the hell you thought you were doing–but refrained from doing so in the moment.

“Can…can I come in?”

You tensed, your eyes darting behind you and Spencer stood, throwing you an understanding glance. Your sister took a step back as he left the room, eyes following him as he disappeared somewhere down the hall. You swallowed and shifted out of the doorway, “come in.”

She raised an eyebrow but kept quiet upon you lifting a hand.

“How have you been?” She asked once you shut the door.

You thought about your answer, settling for, “good,” because you had been good, you had been very good, up until you got that letter.

“That’s good,” she responded, looking around the room, smiling, “you know, mom kept it just the way you had it when you left.”

You nodded, yes, you had noticed that, but you weren’t sure how you felt about it just yet.

“What’s this?” She walked toward your bed, where Spencer had been not a minute ago. She picked up the dainty blanket and sat down, steering clear of the part that had been undoubltey rumpled by Spencer. “Oh,” she said as if just recalling, “it’s the blanket I gave you.”

Your eyebrows scrunched together, you distinctly remember you stealing it from your room and hiding it when she had come asking if you’d seen it.

She laughed, apparently recalling the same thing, “I knew you had it back then,” which came as a surprise to you. She bit back a smile as she began folding it again, “nonna told me to let you keep it.”

Your eyes widened slightly, “did she?”

“Yep,” your sister popped the ‘p’.

“Hmm,” you hummed.

“What?” She asked, setting the blanket aside.

“She’s become batty.”

Your sister’s eyebrows rose, “how do you mean?”

“She’s been nothing but brutal to me,” you frowned, crossing your arms.

Your sister’s eye crinkled like she was about to laugh, “wow,” she said instead, “you’ve been gone so long you must have forgotten.”

“Forgotten what?” You scoffed.

“That’s how she’s always been,” your sister shook her head, mumbling your name and something else incoherent before turning to look back up at you, “I hope you visit again, that this isn’t some one off thing.”

You pulled away, your walls instantly going back up and your sister sighed, clearly noting the mask of an expression. “You always did that when you were a kid, you know.”

“Did what?” You furrowed your brows.

“Fold into yourself,” she waved her hands, “I don’t know how else to explain it.” She huffed, “you know, we really miss you, everyone. My kids,” she started, tears thrreatening to break loose, “you nieces and nephews–they don’t even know you.”

You looked down and for a second you weren’t sure what she was talking about, but then you remembered that yes–you were a zia*, your sister had children, three of them, and you hadn’t met them once.

Guilt wrapped itself around you like a veil, “I’m sorry,” you heard yourself saying, your face contorting as if you wanted to cry, wanted to express how remorseful you felt, but didn’t know how to.

“You’re just like her,” she threw her head back as a few tears ran down her cheek, “I think that’s why you were closer to Nonno*. You and Nonna* are too alike, you’re both so damn stubborn.” She huffed a laugh and for a moment, a sliver of a smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

“I think love my best friend,” you found yourself admitting, maybe it was your way of trying to reach out, to tell your sister you were still you.

“That guy that was just here?” She grinned at you, “yeah, the family has been talking about it, Nonna* said to expect a wedding within the next year.”

Your face fell, embarrassment taking over, “what? Why? That old bat!” You scoffed, standing, “I can’t believe her, I’ve only been here–what? Two days? If that? That crazy old woman,” you marched toward the door, “Well?” You called to your sister, “are you going to back me up or what?”

She stared at you for a moment and then slowly, but surely, an calm smile crept onto her face, but her eyes were ones of storybook villains,“yeah, sure.”

The day started gloomy, though when you met Spencer in the hall, it became just a little less than that. You weren’t feeling like yourself, though you weren’t actually sure what self you were referring to.

JJ had messaged the group chat that she’d be late because Henry had an accident right before they set off to leave. You thought about messaging your sister, but it felt weird, you weren’t used to initiating conversation with your family, so you didn’t, although you did plan to speak before the funeral.

You wore simple black attire, as did everyone else and you caught yourself holding onto Spencer’s hand tighter than usual, almost as if he’d leave you too, and you couldn’t have that. Your heart studded in your chest once you saw the coffin, it was closed, of course. It had been open for the hearing, but that had occured before you’d landed.

You couldn’t move forward. You told the others to go on and after making sure you were okay, they did, “but you’re not allowed to go,” you’d whispered, almost to yourself.

Spencer had squeezed your hand, whispering back, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your family gathered around the casket and the sacerdote* stepped forward, reading off a few of the retellings your grandmother had no doubt written down with the help of your parents. You noted a few other, non-related spectators, probably friends.

A few of his favorite songs were played and then your mother said a few words, followed by your grandmother, and finally your sister. “Are you okay?” Spencer pulled you closer by your arm.

You pressed your lips together, watching the coffin being lowered into the grave. “I don’t know…” and when you swallowed, you found your throat dry and for the first time since the letter, you not only found yourself wanting to cry, you found it was almost within reach.

The ceremony ended and relatives began dropping dirt into the grave, you thought to say one last prayer before leaving, but you didn’t want anyone to see you. You turned to Spencer and let go of his hand, “I just…” you turned away, pressing your lips together as you eyed the fresh grave.

He smiled sadly, but he nodded; he always seemed to be able to understand you no matter how silent or how loud you were. Maybe that’s why you loved him, you couldn’t be sure. There were so many things you loved about him–gosh you loved him. The revelation was like a wish from a birthday candle being answered.

You stepped away and Spencer watched as you pushed through the crowd. Hotch and the others surrounded him, questioning stares ever-present. “We should give her some time,” he said after seeing you hesitate, then sit near the makeshift headstone.

“What’s she doing?” Penelope frowned, watching you shift in your spot on the wet grass.

“Saying goodbye,” Spencer was the only one to respond–he was also the last one to retreat.

You didn’t know how to begin, you hadn’t spoken to him in eight years. You were scared that he was angry at you, but then again, you knew that couldn’t be the case, yes you knew he was gone, but what if his spirit was still here? What if he couldn’t move on because he had unfinished business and it was your fault?

You stopped yourself, since when did you believe in superstition? That was your parents…and Rossi; not you.

You sighed, running your hand through the grass, deciding to start as if he were still there, trying not to sound too guilty.

Nonno, you began, I–I’m sorry, you shook your head, I know, I know I should have visited. I know– a single tear fell down your cheek and you paused to wipe it away, shocked by your own emotions. “Forgive me,” you whispered.

“You sound like a crazy person,” you jerked your head to the side, eyes landing on your grandmother.

You huffed, eyes narrowing as you sniffled and wiped another tear that had fallen. “You’re one to talk.”

Your grandmother shifted, as if uncomfortable, and then she moved forward, more brittle than you had noticed the first time. “I’m not going to sit down,” she said after a moment, “don’t let my looks full you, I’m not how I once was.” She grunted as she stood beside you.

“Yeah, well, your looks aren’t fooling anyone, so.”

“Ouch,” she laughed, but it sounded like a wenches cackle. “Oh nipotina*,” she clicked her tongue and shook her head, a complacent smile making its way onto her wrinkled face.

You sat in silence, comfortable or not, you were glad she had stopped talking, you didn’t know what to say to her. In your opinion, you had never really gotten along with your grandmother, this wasn’t reconnecting with your parents or sisters or even your zia* and zio*, this was…new territory altogether.

You frowned, “listen, child,” and you did, you perked up, you could listen to her talk, that would be easy, you just hoped she didn't expect a response. “Your grandfather loved you, he never stopped talking about you.” You smiled, but then it faltered. You had abandoned him, hadn’t even deigned to visit because of how guilty you’d felt…

“He knew,” you whispered, heart racing.

You heard your grandmother sigh. “I thought as much,” she frowned, staring at her husband's grave as if she could bring him back by will alone.

“You did?” You hadn’t left without saying goodbye, not to him at least, that was one thing everyone had gotten wrong, your grandmother knowing had never occurred to you because you were sure your grandfather kept it a secret. Why else would the entire family have blown up when they’d realized you had left? When they’d realized it was too late to stop or convince you otherwise–because by the time everyone else had found out, you were halfway across the North Atlantic already.

“I always thought it was strange how he never said anything about it.” A grim smile tugged her at her red-painted lips.

“Nonna*, did I make the right decision?” You asked, surprising even yourself.

She sighed and you thought she might say ‘I can’t tell you if it was right or wrong’ or something a normal grandmother would say, but your grandmother wasn’t normal, she was an old bat, probably the same one you’d turn into at her age and she said, “You’re damned right you were wrong.”

Your mouth dropped, taken aback, and then you burst into laughter, throwing your head back as you tried wiping your tears, “oh you’re such an old bat,” you sighed.

“I knew you always called me that behind my back,” she harumphed, jerking her head away and crossing her arms like a child.

“Oh come now, Nonna*,” you stood and reached out the touch her shoulder.

She huffed and dropped her arms, eyes darting around your face in what seemed to be concern. “You were wrong for not telling the rest of us, you had your parents worried sick, and your sister too.” Her frown deepened, “even me.”

You nodded, “I know, but nonna*,” you sighed, wanting to explain yourself, but she held up a hand. You raised a brow, almost saying huh, so that’s where I get it from, out loud.

“Your grandfather always said you were meant for something greater, that your heart wouldn’t allow you to stay in this town the way ours allowed the rest of us.

“No, no nipotina*, you were not wrong for leaving. This town, this family? Yes, you come from here, but there,” she nodded her head toward your co-workers, (or friends, you were honestly still deciding), “with them, that is where you belong now.”

You smiled, finding acceptance in her answer.

“And your friend,” she rolled her eyes when she said it, “well, I expect the wedding to be here.”

You huffed a laugh before turning, catching Specner’s eye, and when he waved your heart swelled. “We’ll see,” you started walking away.

Your grandmother trailed after you, throwing her hands up and shouting, “incovalato*! You insolent child!”

a/n: ahhh i can't wait to write my next fic because i already know waht it is. i don't want to give spoilers, but just know you're going to see dad!spencer !!

@darkmatilda @theylovemelody

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