#me after thinking about it for 5 minutes: this is the first time in fifteen years that he's been happy. and nobody realises that.

[grand-theft-carbohydrates]

oven timer just rang. ok lets take a look at zhang liang first and then i can get back to finishing lu zhi.

zhang liang is the guy who most deserves to collapse onto his knees in the middle of a wide, open field, cold mud soaking into his trousers, hail pelting him from above, and let out a gut-wrenching scream. he's the only guy who has perspective of the entire story, who gets to see it happen beginning to end, who could do nothing to change it in the first half, and finally gets his catharsis in the last sprint.

you know how the Gao Jianli story and Liu Bang story have wildly different tones, one is a relatively ahistorical psychological piece. the other is Terry Pratchett's Game of Thrones. zhang liang is the lone character who survived the Genre Shift and now the Final Girl has been reassigned Jester by the narrative. he has no choice but to paint his nose white and juggle his little colored balls for the amusement of the audience.

he's basically been holding in The Scream for a whole decade. he couldn't cry when his kingdom was vanquished. when his brother died. when he failed to kill qin shi huang. when he escaped the nation-wide manhunt but countless innocents were killed in his stead. living is unbearable, but he has to go on. who will sweep his little brother's grave otherwise? he sneaks to the burial pits outside of town to give offerings to the victims of his massacre. a ghost tending to other ghosts. he spends the next decade working a dead-end clerk job at the magistrate's office, recording down the judgements of others but never making his own. there's a bag in his room he never unpacks. the man who was once a lively poet has burned all his books and the sound of a jizhu makes him taste blood. he's a transient figure in his own life. he makes no mistakes at work and is always punctual. he had a meltdown in the street yesterday when the food cart changed their lunch options and he had to get something else. he's terrified of his own decisions, of things he cannot control or predict. he sees disaster around every corner, a spiderweb of intricately linked pain and suffering, with himself tangled up in the center. he can't do A at this time of the day or B will happen which leads to C and D and E and F. he runs himself ragged, putting up talismans against the demons of his mind, but as soon as he's dealt with one, another three pop up in their place. he feels like he's bailing out a perpetually sinking ship. sometimes he wonders if he's already dead and buried, dirt in his mouth, worms in his eyes, and this life is just a horrible dream. maybe one day he'll wake up at the foot of a big tree, no responsibilities no regrets and comfortably decomposed. then the roster crows so he climbs out of bed to go to work. the food cart still hasn't brought back his usual lunch option.

[darkmatilda]

𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you thought that after a certain misunderstanding, your relationship had taken on a purely platonic and friendly form but then the investigation sent you to the freezing wilderness of alaska, where every night you find warmth in his bed.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x fem!bau reader, the same reader as in my story "the bolter" but it's not necessary to read it before! there are no major references, but people who have read it might treat this as a continuation (if they want to). in this story, we still have our wonderful queen elle greenaway, gideon and morgan, and many of my attempts (not always successful) at being funny. mostly smut with A LOT of plot, description of the case, oral (f receiving) and some much actions but described in a subtle way. a little bit of angst, but I wouldn't be myself if I didn't add some. again, GLASSES REID!!

𝐚/𝐧: first fic at the beginning of the month, i really wanted to post it today. i think it's time to start posting christmas-themed works? would you be interested? by the way, i hope december will treat you kind <3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 11k

“I’m freezing, God, I’m freezing.”

“Me too, look how I’m shaking, I swear, one more hour and my feet will fall off, and then my toes…”

“Guys, for god’s sake!” Morgan finally spoke up, his voice tinged with impatience. The hood of his waterproof, windproof jacket covered almost half of his face, and even so, he was clearly the lightest dressed of all of them. “We’ve landed.” He pulled off a glove to check his watch. “Just under fifteen minutes ago. You still don’t know shit about freezing, so stop complaining like a bunch of old women in a knitting cycle…”

“I’d love to be an old lady in a knitting circle right now,” you sighed, your breath immediately turning to steam. You exchanged a look with Reid, who was freezing just as much as you were, and together, you had been driving Derek crazy with your whining. You all had similar gear, thermal layers, and jackets designed for extreme conditions, but it still wasn’t enough. “Sitting by the fireplace, knitting a sweater. Gossiping with other retirees.”

“Exchanging gingerbread recipes,” Spencer suggested, his tone just as wistful.

“And sharing tips for dealing with worms in our cats’ anuses,” you added.

“I’m done," Derek muttered.

Your work often sent you to various corners of the United States, but it rarely involved Alaska. Well, due to the state’s relatively low population density compared to others, fewer crimes were committed there, especially at the federal level.

However, in recent weeks, strange disappearances had occurred—teenagers and young men. Their bodies were found in remote areas, deep in the forest or in completely uninhabited wilderness, places so isolated that even an experienced survivalist would struggle to find their way out.

The local police, as local police often do in most criminal cases, initially pretended there wasn’t a problem, insisting the victims had died as a result of tragic accidents, simply getting lost during a hike. But when the number of deaths began to rise, and the victims included even high school students—locals who were well aware of the dangers of wandering alone after dark in such perilous areas—the case landed on JJ’s desk.

And so, you found yourselves in the brutally frigid surroundings of Fairbanks, heading toward the inn where you were supposed to drop off your things and immediately dive into the investigation.

"The temperature this week is going to range from 15 to 5 degrees Fahrenheit," Spencer informed you over his shoulder as he opened the car trunk to retrieve the luggage. "Of course, that's during the day. At night, it’ll drop as low as -4 degrees."

Elle shivered as he handed her her bag.

"I was doing just fine without those numbers," she said, nudging you lightly with her shoulder—a touch you barely felt through the thick layers of clothing. "What do you say we make up for this with a New Year’s trip? Mallorca? The Himalayas?"

"I’m dreaming of the Caribbean," Morgan chimed in. "Beaches, sunshine, and cocktails—that’s what I’ll be dreaming of tonight."

"And half-naked sunbathers," you added.

"And half-naked sunbathers," he agreed with a grin.

Elle trudged ahead, sinking into the snow up to her calves. The inn was a sizable wooden building, adorned with balconies and terraces that, given the weather, likely went unused, though they added considerable charm. It was tucked away in a secluded spot, offering privacy and a peaceful atmosphere—ideal for work.

You lingered by the car, waiting for Reid to grab his things, unwilling to leave him behind.

“Do you know much about the northern lights, Rudolph?” you teased, nodding toward his red-tipped nose. “I’ve always dreamed of seeing them.”

“Well, then you’re in luck,” he replied, looking at you with a slight smile. “We’re in one of the best places to see them, during the season with the longest nights. They’ll be visible pretty early, though the most stunning views will probably happen between ten at night and two in the morning. I’ve always wanted to see them in person too.”

"So, what do you think?" you asked, raising your eyebrows. "Midnight, at my door, and we’ll go play aurora hunters?"

You shivered just at the thought. Of course, you were joking—there was no way you'd even stick a single hand out from under the covers at this hour with those freezing nighttime temperatures. You planned to admire the beautiful phenomenon from your room window. Warm, you hoped.

"Alright. Just make sure you bundle up,"

 "Sure. Thermal thong and all that."

Your room was on the same floor as Elle's and JJ's, and you were glad to have them just behind the next door. Unpacking took you only a minute, and within that time, you were all together, sitting as a team, going through the case files.

“These boys were so young,” JJ remarked, shaking her head with a hint of dread. “Sixteen, the youngest, twenty-four, the oldest. They were found in such remote locations that if it hadn’t been for the ongoing professional search and the dogs, who knows how long it would have taken before anyone stumbled upon their bodies.”

“Given the heavy snowfall, they might not have been found until the thaw. What do their parents and families say about all of this?” Hotch asked.

“Unanimously, they believe their kids would never have ventured that far on their own. This is where the mystery starts, though, because there were no wounds on their bodies, except for the ones they inflicted on themselves in their attempts to survive in the cold.”

“So, it looks like someone kidnapped them, drove them out to a place you’d never get out of without serious survival skills, and just left them to die?” Derek asked, baffled.

“Seems that way. Yesterday, an eighteen-year-old named David Moore was reported missing. Normally, it probably would have been classified as a delayed return home or maybe a runaway, and the police wouldn’t have even taken the report. But given the current circumstances and the rising panic among the locals, his parents decided not to wait. A wise decision.”

"How many hours has it been since he went missing?" you asked, running your own grim calculations in your head. "Around eight, right? Is it even possible for him to survive the night out there in these conditions?"

"That depends on what he was wearing and the specific location where he was left," Reid explained, thoughtfully cleaning the lenses of his glasses. You realized it had been a while since you’d seen him wearing them—he used to wear them daily, but lately, it was only on occasion. For a moment, you found yourself staring at his face, liking how the dark frames suited it.

"His parents believe he was likely abducted on his way home from tutoring," Elle noted, flipping through the case file. "People around here dress warmly as a habit, but even so, I doubt his everyday clothes would be particularly suited to weather like this. At night. In the middle of the woods."

An uncomfortable silence followed her words, broken only by Hotch clearing his throat.

"Anyway, we need to join the ongoing search efforts. We’ll be more useful out in the field than trying to build a profile with the scraps of information we have. I’m not sure if I need to remind you, but out of habit, I will: be cautious and don’t, under any circumstances, stray from the search group. They know this area."

Before you all moved out to get to work, Reid shot you a fleeting glance. Like a dad, you mouthed silently, and he let out the faintest chuckle. You both enjoyed spotting those unmistakably parental tendencies in your boss, though they were directed at you and the rest of the team.

Hours of searching had, unfortunately, yielded no results—the crushing pressure of time bore down on you all. The knowledge that each passing moment was stripping this boy of his chances for survival felt almost unbearable. If he had somehow managed to survive the first eight hours in the forest, sixteen seemed an increasingly unlikely feat.

And yet, hope lingered. The group, driven by his distraught family, refused to stop, likely continuing to scour the area despite warnings. Meanwhile, you stood in your hotel room, so close to the window that the cold glass brushed against your nose.

Your thoughts were consumed by the case and the fate of the teenager. Just as Reid had said, the sky was illuminated by that breathtaking greenish glow. Watching it felt almost surreal, and you wanted to take in as much of it as your eyes could hold.

If it weren’t for the fact that you had frozen to your very core during the search, you might have stepped outside to see it more clearly. 

Just as the thought crossed your mind, there was a knock at your door.

You furrowed your brow, not expecting anyone. When you opened it, you came face to face with none other than Spencer. Well, it was hard to tell it was him at first. He was bundled up so tightly in layers of warm clothes that his body lost its natural shape and resembled more of a puffy ball than a person.

"Hey," he greeted awkwardly, raising his hand hesitantly and scanning your appearance from head to toe. "You're not ready yet. Sorry, I think I came too early. I thought we were meeting at midnight..."

"We were meeting?"

"For the northern lights hunt, you forgot? I checked the Kp index, it's a measure of aurora activity that determines its intensity, and it turns out tonight is really favorable... wait, why are you laughing?"

His furrowed brows and face, barely visible in the dimly lit hallway but clearly confused, only made you laugh harder. Shaking your head in disbelief, you covered your smile with your hand.

"Spencer, I was joking," you said, suddenly feeling guilty that your sarcasm had led him to spend time and effort preparing for a night out. "There’s no way I'm going out in this cold. I’d rather dive headfirst into boiling water, at least that would be warmer."

“Oh,” he let out a short, disappointed sigh. He quickly nodded, as if trying to accept the situation, and forced a more neutral expression. “I—I really thought you were serious. Sorry for... for waking you up, then.”

For a moment, you stood in silence, your hand resting on the doorframe. An odd, unexpected thought sprinted through your mind. It had been such a long time since the two of you had been together like this, late at night, in the same room...

“Well, in that case,” he cleared his throat, snapping you out of your thoughts. “I’m sorry again. Let’s just pretend this didn’t happen, okay? Forget I came here and embarrassed myself. That’s all. Sorry. I should probably go if I want to avoid being completely sleep-deprived tomorrow...”

“Go where?” you interrupted, suddenly standing straighter, alarmed.

“Aurora hunting.”

“By yourself? Spencer, have you lost your mind?”

He opened and closed his mouth, caught off guard by your outburst.

“Well, I don’t know when I’ll ever get another chance like this, being in the Arctic Circle...”

“It’s pitch dark and freezing cold. You don’t know the area—”

“...I’ve had a chance to look around, and I’m not going far. There’s a small hill just behind the inn—”

“...And there’s a freaking serial killer on the loose around here, did you forget?”

“Well, I have a gun.”

“Well, I’m not letting you go,” you cut him off firmly, crossing your arms over your chest. Spencer tilted his head, clearly ready to argue further, but before he could speak, you added, “Give me five minutes.”

“What?”

“Five minutes to get dressed. I’m coming with you.”

At first, you could have sworn a faint smile flickered across his lips. But then, just as quickly, he shook his head vehemently.

“No, really, you don’t have to. Not just because of me. I’ll be fine…”

"Five minutes," you repeated once more, slightly flustered and trying not to dwell on the fact that the moment you stepped outside, you’d likely regret this decision. “Wait here. Or come inside—I don’t want to shut the door in your face.” As you spoke, you opened the door wider, inviting him in.

Without wasting another second, you headed straight for your suitcase. Okay, how many layers does one need for a night outside in Alaska?

“I actually bought a set of thermal underwear specifically for this case,” you said, pulling out the essentials from your bag. Most of what you’d worn during the day would work fine, but you debated adding an extra sweater and another pair of socks. “And, oh my God, I hate it. I’d rather wear lace thongs 24/7 than spend more than eight hours in this bugger.”

You glanced subtly over your shoulder, curious to see his reaction and waiting for his reply. It wasn’t like you wanted to embarrass him, but you absolutely adored how, in response to even your most suggestive remarks, he could always respond with complete seriousness—like he was dissecting some profound issue. Judging by the furrow of his brow, this time would be no different.

“Really? You know, thermal underwear is generally associated with comfort. The fabric is typically elastic, soft, and breathable. High-quality models are even seamless, so they don’t cause any chafing. Maybe you bought a poorly fitted one?”

“Maybe. I don’t know, I have no expertise in this area. It digs in so much, though, and I have to keep myself from adjusting it. Can you imagine me sticking my hand in my pants right in front of the missing boy’s family?”

He hesitated before responding.

“Not really. But I can picture Hotch’s face.”

“And I can picture a termination notice on my desk the next day,” you quipped.

You grabbed all the clothes you had gathered and disappeared into the bathroom to layer them on. It wasn’t a quick job—by the end, you felt like your movements were completely restricted by the weight of it all—but at least you were prepared. When the first merciless blast of Alaskan air brushed against the tiny exposed part of your face, it didn’t immediately make you want to run back inside screaming. 

Instead, you sighed in awe.

"I know I’ve invoked God's name a hundred times already, but God, this is beautiful," you said, feeling your own words too inadequate to describe the miracle above your heads. The streaks of light stretching across the sky, an intense green with a certain transparency, a glassy quality, the stars peeking through it all.

 Spencer turned to you over his shoulder. He was only a couple of steps ahead, but he kept doing it as if afraid that in a moment of not seeing you, you'd fall into the snow and disappear forever.

“Wait until we get to the spot,” he said, his smile clearly excited. In his dark eyes, the light seemed to reflect and stay there, even when he blinked, as though he had already absorbed it all deep inside. “It’s only ten minutes away, but it makes a difference.”

"I hope you're not one of those people who says, 'Oh, it's just around the corner, we don't need a cab!' and then leads you to walk halfway across the city" you scoffed. You tried to keep your gaze fixed on his back, his lantern swinging in his hand. Alaska, the vast empty terrain, the thick layers of snow, seemed to hide some sort of mystery beneath them, and it filled you with a fair amount of fear. "Will you shield me with your chest if a bear jumps out at us?"

"Actually, yes, I would," he replied. "But not because of heroism, it's more because I have bear spray in my pocket, and by that very fact, it's probably my duty."

"Okay, let’s make a deal: you protect us from a potential bear attack, and I’ll take care of Bigfoot. By the way, that legend never really scared me. A monkey with gigantic feet just sounds too ridiculous to me. Remember that episode of History's Mysteries that we watched at your place?"

You both shared a love for a certain TV show about conspiracy theories and famous mysteries from around the world.

 "Of course. You know part of it was filmed right here in Fairbanks? Bigfoot never really fascinated me either, but I liked that at the end of the episode they also mentioned other Alaskan legends. Like The Kushtaka, for example."

"I don't remember that. But I'm not sure I want you to tell me," you confessed, taking a breath, the cold biting into your lungs. Despite the layers of clothing, it was getting colder and colder, but at least you'd finally reached the spot Spencer had chosen. He was right; the vast plain on the small hill was perfect for watching the aurora. You had the feeling that the sky was only an inch above your head, and a childlike urge to reach up and touch it. "Alright, you've got me too intrigued. Go ahead."

You noticed that, unlike you, Spencer wasn't tilting his head back to gaze at the sky. He was looking at you.

"The Kushtaka is a creature from the folklore of the surrounding tribes. It is most often described as a hybrid of a human and an otter..."

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

"Otters, seriously? Is that supposed to chill me to the bone?"

Spencer raised an eyebrow in a somewhat sarcastic manner.

"Okay, let me tell you the story differently," he proposed in a similar tone, swallowing as if to prepare himself for the tension-building drop in his voice. "Just like now, we're heading out to see the northern lights. Just the two of us, surrounded by nothing but darkness. The sky is overcast that day, and there’s hardly any light to see." At that moment, he switched off the flashlight he was holding, and his previously well-lit face faded into obscurity. You crossed your arms over your chest, silently promising yourself you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being scared.

“In this story, do my thermal undies also ride up so uncomfortably?”

“Your underwear isn’t a significant part of this tale. Anyway… crap, where was I?”

“The thought of my underwear distracted you?”

You heard him sigh, almost in exasperation, and a sly smile spread across your face.

“Let me continue. No more comments about underwear.”

“My underwear or in general?”

“SO WE’RE HEADING TO SEE THE NORTHERN LIGHTS. It’s dark, it’s creepy, and you’ve got chills running down your spine. Then suddenly, you realize you’ve lost me.”

“Phew,” you exhaled with theatrical relief. “Finally got rid of that creep who kept obsessing over my underwear.”

"You know what, I’m done. I’m done. I won’t tell you the story about the human-otter hybrid."

“I’m devastated by this fact!” you assured him in the same overly dramatic tone. Taking it a step further, you jumped toward him, desperately grabbing the fabric of his jacket. “Dr. Reid, please, I beg you, tell me about the human-otter hybrid. I need this. I’ll sell my soul and body, just please…”

Spencer threw his head back, laughing, and as you tried to calm yourself down, you leaned against him. Taken by surprise, he lost his balance, sending both of you toppling into the snow.

“Damn, we’re going to be wet!” he groaned, trying to get up from the deep snowdrift you both had fallen into. It wasn’t the easiest task with all the layers of clothing and a girl who was dying of laughter on top of him.

“I think that’s enough of our aurora watching,” you said once you both finally managed to get back on your feet. Despite the ski pants and very, very warm clothes, you were starting to feel frozen. “And enough of your legends. It’s late, and we should head back.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” he complained, sounding like a little puppy that had been scolded for peeing on the carpet.

“You can tell me on the way,” you replied. “Come on.”

You sent one last glance toward the sky before moving forward, your mind focused entirely on the vision of a hot, soothing bath and a blanket with an extra layer for warmth. For the rest of the walk, Spencer didn’t try to use his low voice or mysterious narrative tone. He finished the story in his usual manner, sounding more like a fascinated lecturer. You couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed—he had sounded really sexy earlier, you had to admit.

When you both got back to the guesthouse, you glanced at the stairs leading up to your room and shook your head in refusal.

“If I don’t get under at least five blankets right this second, I’m going to die, so sorry my dear, but I’m coming to you and I won’t leave until I’m warm, or I’ll never leave at all,” you said quickly and firmly.

Spencer raised an eyebrow but replied just as energetically.

“I don’t think I have five blankets in my room.”

“Three will be fine.”

And that's exactly how it went. First, you took off your jackets, and then, in your typical everyday clothes, you quickly jumped into bed, covered with the duvet up to your neck, waiting for the pleasant warmth to spread across your bodies.

“Was seeing the aurora worth all that suffering?' you asked, turning onto your side in bed so you could face him.

'Well, it wouldn't have been suffering if someone hadn't shoved both of us into the snow...'

He said this while lying on his back, but shortly after these words, he followed your lead and also turned onto his side. Your breath became shallower. It had been almost a year since you last had him this close, almost a year since you slept together, and then decided to let the situation fade into oblivion.

Honestly, you almost succeeded. After all, that incident was like every other encounter you had with guys. Spontaneous, one-time, followed by bolting. But you didn’t see those other guys afterward. Every day at work, forced to watch him wipe his glasses, his damn glasses, with the same fingers he…

“Are you thinking about something specific?” he suddenly asked, his voice eerily similar to the one he used to tell you the story on the hill, a voice you found so sexy.

That was the kind of man Spencer Reid was. Always wanting to know what was going on inside your head.

You sighed, probably too loudly.

"You don't want to know what I'm thinking right now," 

You felt a little pathetic, realizing that your whole excuse about not being able to go to your room was just a pretext to end up in his bed. Once again. This whole trip to Alaska must have really messed with your head. Or maybe it cleared the fog in your mind and left a single thought, naked and defenseless. You wanted him. 

"I know how pathetic that sounds, but I always want to know what you're thinking," he replied after a moment, swallowing audibly. You heard it clearly, you were so close. So close...

You had to make a quick decision: whether to continue and face the consequences the next day, or, perhaps worse, to be rejected? It was possible that he had learned from your last time together, and didn’t want to get involved with you that way.

"I can show you what I'm thinking," you finally proposed, not blinking for a long moment, just carefully studying the features of his face, any signs of uncertainty or tension. 

Because there was that one small seed of probability that he wanted you too.

His lips parted, but were immediately covered by your kiss. 

Slow and curious. How did he taste after all this time? 

Maybe it was a thought whispered by the moment, but you had the feeling that even better. 

You didn’t play the role of a taster for too long. Soon, still not pulling his lips away from yours, you lifted yourself into a sitting position, propping yourself up with your elbow on the bed, pressing closer to him with every passing moment, more intensely and hungrily. 

Something seemed to haunt you, preventing you from moving any further. Something in his posture—lying on his back, surrendered to your control, yet somehow absent.

You pulled away from his lips, your gazes meeting. There was a certain weakness and sadness in his eyes.

"Is something wrong?" you managed to ask, your voice strangely trembling.

Spencer suddenly sat up, straightening himself, though there was still a slight bend in his shoulders. His movement forced you to pull away from his chest.

"I can't do this," he confessed quietly, taking a deep breath. "I can't sleep with you." In a way, it hurt more than if he had simply refused to let you kiss him. Your forehead furrowed in disappointment and... shock?

"Why?" you asked directly, foregoing any excuses about not aiming for that. Because you had been.

He let out a laugh, filled with pity.

"Because after this, I won’t be able to stop thinking about you. And you, after tonight, won’t want me anymore."

You were breathing heavily, completely unsure of what to say. His words were painfully eye-opening, first and foremost. And secondly... true. Because did you plan, like a normal person, to wake up next to him, greet him, date him? That wasn’t how you operated. In your plans, there was always just one option—escape. Exactly like that time.

You slowly began to slide off the bed, his hand moved to reach for yours, and you hoped he would take it, but at the last moment, he hesitated. He hesitated.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," you reassured him, yet you didn’t look at him the whole time. You sounded stiff, almost reproachful, even though you were the one who should be reproached. You were the problem.

You looked around the floor, used to picking up your clothes from it, but this time there was nothing. Except for the jacket hung up and the ski pants you’d pulled on over your regular ones to avoid freezing in the cold night. Leaving without a word seemed excessive.

Your back rested against the door as you turned to look at him. Your quick-thinking mind raced, searching for something to say to at least salvage some dignity in this situation…

“Let’s pretend this didn’t happen,” you finally suggested.

Spencer was still sitting on the edge of the bed, as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to get up or stay there. Eventually, it seemed like he stayed, though you weren’t sure, having already turned toward the door, your hand pressing on the doorknob.

“T-think that’s the best solution,” he admitted, just as one of your feet stepped into the hallway.

Then, you heard someone whistling.

You immediately stepped back into his room, keeping your face turned toward the door.

“Damn, it’s Morgan,” you said, recognizing the person in the hallway by the sound alone. “We better not let him see me leave, or he’ll never leave us alone…”

You expected that when you turned around, you’d find him still sitting on the bed. After all, you hadn’t heard him get up, hadn’t heard him approach. You certainly didn’t expect that, when you turned, his lips would almost immediately attack yours.

It was so unexpected, so sudden, that the back of your head slammed against the door.

“Fuck, sorry…”

But you didn’t think for a second about the pain, nor did you focus on why Spencer had suddenly changed his mind. Your attention was solely on the two of you, two desperate pairs of lips pressing together and pulling apart, never staying away for long.

He pulled you toward him, wrapping his arms around your waist. Unlike the last time, it was your back that hit the mattress first. The cool surface, the heated bodies, and the weight of the layers of clothing between you both.

"You've changed," you noticed.

A different dynamic. The pace was set by him—just moments ago, you were standing by the door, and now, half of your clothes were gone, while the soft skin of your neck was buried under a cascade of messy, impatient kisses.

"Do you like it?" he asked, his face hovering above yours, one hand resting on the bed next to it.

"I haven't gotten enough to say for sure," you replied, teasingly. "But I get the feeling you're more confident now. A lot of practice since last time?"

He shrugged.

"I don't think it's about practice," he said, his hand sliding down your side until it stopped at the waistband of your pants, lingering there but not moving any lower. You reached for his hand, brushing against it before trailing your fingers along its length up to his forearm, feeling one of his veins beneath your fingertips. "I guess... I was just scared you'd leave, and I had to stop you somehow. That’s why I rushed," he admitted.

His gaze lingered mostly on your face, but it wandered across your body, his frustration clear as he eyed the layers of clothing still in his way. Something about his desperation and impatience stirred something playful in you, and you couldn’t resist teasing him.

Propping yourself up on one elbow, you tilted your chin to look at him.

 “If I tried to leave right now, how would you stop me?”

The corner of his mouth twitched at your question, but he decided to play along, nodding thoughtfully.

“I think I’ve got a few ideas.”

“Care to show me?” you asked, your voice dripping with challenge.

For a moment, he didn’t move at all, just kept staring at you, until he allowed himself that first, utterly shameless drop of his gaze and a soft sigh. His lips began their journey, starting at their usual, safe spot on your neck, trailing toward your shoulder, and crossing over your collarbone with deliberate intent. You were still half-sitting, struggling to steady your breathing so your chest wouldn’t rise and fall too much or too quickly, trying not to disrupt him. The first hint of uncertainty appeared between your breasts when his kisses momentarily softened, carefully exploring unfamiliar territory and testing your sensitivity.

You struggled more and more to keep yourself from collapsing fully onto the mattress. But when his cool tongue met your skin, pressing against it so firmly that his forehead brushed against your stomach, relentlessly moving lower, you couldn’t hold out any longer.

He was between your knees, bent in anticipation. He reached them, sliding his hands down your thighs and coaxing them to relax. He fumbled a bit while unbuttoning your pants, and had trouble sliding them down while you were lying there. You lifted your hips to help, even tried to do it yourself, but he stopped your hands, placing them above your head.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he said softly, finally freeing your legs from both pant legs. His hands wrapped around your ankles, his thumb tracing gentle circles around one of them, which somehow completely seized your attention, and you focused solely on that subtle motion. For a moment, you closed your eyes, and when you opened them again, you noticed that his chin was just above your panty line. "Actually, it will be much more pleasant for you if you just focus on feeling and nothing else. I was supposed to show you my ideas, remember?"

“As someone who apologized for being in too much of a hurry, you sure have an unexpectedly large amount of patience now,” you remarked with reproach, lifting your head again. Maybe keeping it down allowed for more comfort and relief for your neck, but on the other hand, the sight of his face immersed between your thighs was simply priceless.

If the sight itself was priceless, how do you describe that feeling?

With every move of his tongue, your hips swayed, adjusted to the rhythm. Often tense, trying to find some outlet, especially when sighs escaped his lips and his cool breath penetrated through you.

"Think I'm gonna cume embarrassingly quickly," you confessed, unsure whether he even understood anything from your sentence, which was at least interwoven with two moans. Three.

When it happened, you uncontrollably squeezed his head with your knees, a similar groan also came from his mouth. 

Spender didn’t stay in that position for long. When you opened your tightly shut eyelids, his face was right above yours, stretched in such satisfaction, as if he was the one receiving pleasure.

"Was it too quick for you?" he asked, still absorbing you with the same gaze, which seemed to pulse with desire. "If you want, we can try again, you’ll surely improve..."

"My God, when did you become so cocky?"

He chuckled, but instead of answering, he once again pressed himself against your body and skin, closing his eyes in devotion and lingering on each spot for as long as it took, as if he could never be satisfied, no matter how much he took in. 

Your hands, instead of tormenting the innocent fabric of the blanket, moved to his back, tightly embracing his neck and basically everything they could latch onto. All of his earlier composure seemed to evaporate; you didn’t even have to ask twice to make him slide in. It actually sounded more like an order than a request, a bit desperate, it's true, but still an order.

"How is it even possible that it feels even better than the last time?” His words, his lips, ticked your neck as he moaned out this question. "Just... I feel like I won’t have enough of you tonight."

"The night is long," you said, almost into the air, not really paying attention to the meaning behind it. "Tomorrow night too."

Spencer stopped, completely. His eyes desperately searched for yours, and when he finally found them, they widened in disbelief.

"Tomorrow night too?" he repeated. "But I thought... I thought you didn't want anything more than a one-night fling…”

"It's already our second," you reminded him. "And I'll be completely honest with you, I don’t want to walk around all day tomorrow sexually frustrated just at the sight of you. Let's make a deal, okay?"

"A deal?"

"Yeah. I'll tell you about it in a moment, but right now...Oh God, I think I’m gonna…”

You both got dressed right after, but not because either of you intended to leave. The temperature inside simply didn’t allow for sleeping naked, no matter how warm you were after sex.

"So?" he asked, handing you the piece of paper you had sent him to the bathroom for. Then he sat on the bed, facing you. "What did you mean by this deal?"

"Well, after thinking about it, I'm not sure if it's a good idea after all..."

"I want to know, even if just out of curiosity."

"You want to know everything, Spence. But fine. I thought maybe... while we're in Alaska, we could just, you know, allow ourselves to do whatever we want. In more direct terms, fuck each other as much as we want.”  

It sounded a bit...crazy? Spencer kept his gaze suspended in the air for a moment before turning it back to you, questioning.

"But only as long as we're in Alaska?"

"Exactly. Since there's only one floor between us, why not take advantage of it?" you tried to joke, lightening the mood.

It didn’t seem to have much effect on him.

"But what happens next? When we get back?"

"Do we really have to think about that?" you wondered, moving closer to him, to the body that just moments ago made you feel so good. "We'll get used to being apart, just like before."

"Okay," he sucked in a breath, clearly torn over the proposal. "I mean, no, I didn’t mean okay... because it doesn’t seem like a great idea, but on the other hand... on the other hand, I really, really want you, even if it only means for this short time."

You smiled, though deep down, somewhere very deep, there was something somber in that gesture. 

Ignoring that, you kissed him to seal the deal. And not just that.

"That was for good night and goodbye."

"Goodbye? You're leaving?" A clear look of disappointment crossed his face, but he quickly shook his head, trying to get rid of it. "Good night, then."

 "It's not that I don't want to stay. It's just that it would be better to be well-rested for work, and I don't think we'd sleep properly if I decided to spend the night here. “

You saw him open his mouth, ready to protest, but you had already gotten up from the bed and started gathering your remaining things.

"Wait," he called as you were about to leave. "You said... you said something that's been bothering me, you know? I can even quote it, so listen up. You said that you don't want to walk around all day tomorrow sexually frustrated just at the sight of me."

You couldn't help but let out a burst of laughter.

"And that bothers you?"

"I don’t understand what you meant by that. What in my behavior makes you feel that way?"

"A lot of things."

"Like what?"

"I'll tell you someday. Maybe it's better if you're not aware of it."

"Hey, now I won’t be able to sleep!"

"Anyway, good night, sweet boy."

*

Almost the first thing in the morning, you found yourselves at the local police station, full of disappointment and anxiety. You had to inform the parents of the missing boy found in the forest that he had been located. But unfortunately, it was not good news.

The first hours of the day passed in constant analysis and discussion, until finally, around noon, you gathered in front of the town's police officers, ready to deliver the profile. You didn’t have much time for any reflection on the previous night, or even for a conversation with Spencer. A sober one this time, when you weren’t intoxicated by desire and each other.

You stood in the corner of the room, listening to Hotch and Gideon.

"The UNSUB is a white male, likely with military experience or, at the very least, extensive survival skills, estimated to be around 50-60 years old. He abducts teenagers, boys, and young men who look younger than their actual age, which suggests he doesn’t know his victims very well."

"If he observes them, it’s for a short period. He doesn’t have time to get to know them but understands their routine and daily schedule well enough to know when to strike."

"He doesn’t drug his victims, which means he is physically capable of abducting them without assistance. This ties into the type of victims he selects. All these boys were more the intellectual type than athletes. When abducted, they were coming from school, tutoring sessions, or the library. David Moore, for instance, was tall but lanky. His family described him as gentle, with a big heart and a passion for learning."

"The UNSUB abandons them in remote forest locations. Forcing them to fight for survival gives him a sense of control and serves as a way to prove his belief that modern society and boys today are incapable of handling adversity. He openly despises them, viewing them as weak and effeminate. His mindset reflects a toxic approach to gender roles and what he considers the traditional male archetype."

“White men aged 50-60 with survival skills make up about half the population here,” a policeman noted. “Take me, for example…”

Hotch began providing more detailed information, while Gideon stepped out of the center of the room, and the atmosphere became more relaxed.

You approached Reid, who was sitting in a chair, and ruffled his hair with your hand.

“Watch your back, genius-boy,” you warned, standing behind him. From his seat, he tilted his head all the way back to look up at you. A smile instantly appeared on his face.

“You might just be next. And we wouldn’t want that.”

“So, you think I’m effeminate?”

"I know very well that you're not. But you do have that intellectual spark in your eyes. And, you know, those glasses don’t help."

Ever since you’d been in Alaska, he’d worn them less often because, as he’d told you while chatting in bed, they kept fogging up. But now, they were perched on his nose, making him look... delectable. Simply delectable.

The rest of your team approached, Elle's gaze lingering on your hand resting on the back of Reid's chair. As usual, she had to notice everything.

"I need to send you all to a few places to check out some individuals the police have identified as matching the profile," Hotch announced. "Y/N and Elle, I’d like you to speak again with the bus driver who drove David Moore just before he was abducted. Once he understands the profile, he might be able to recall more details."

You lingered in the room, wanting to exchange a word with Spencer. In complete privacy... He was slowly wiping his glasses, as if hoping for the same. Watching the movements of his hands, you shook your head.

"This is it—what you asked me about yesterday. What makes me sexually frustrated. Our agreement still stands, right?" you asked, running your hand along his shoulder, just to touch him. Even though the many layers of clothing made it almost impossible to really feel him.

He looked at the glasses he was cleaning, then at you, disbelief written all over his face.

"That's what you meant? Cleaning glasses?"

"Don't judge me. It's about the motion. Or maybe the glasses themselves, I don't know. Maybe I’m a fetishist. Anyway, are you going to answer my question?"

Still seated in the chair, he had to tilt his head back to look at you, which reminded you—just a little, okay, a lot—of another situation where he was down below.

"What about you?" he countered. "You haven’t changed your mind?"

"Absolutely not."

"In that case, yes. It still stands."

“Oh, I don’t know what I’d do if you’d answered differently. See you tonight, then,” you promised, glancing around the room to make sure none of your team members were still there. Just a few local officers... who weren’t paying much attention to you. Even if they were, it wasn’t their business.

You leaned in quickly to kiss him. He closed his eyes, as if hoping for more.

“Not now, and not here. I need to go find Elle. Hotch gave us an assignment. Have a good one.”

You walked away, feeling his gaze on your back.

You found your friend in the car, one of those suited for tough terrain, with high tires. She was sitting behind the wheel, tapping her nails on it.

"So, what was the address of that driver?" you asked, fastening your seatbelt.

"Forgive my bluntness, darling, but I’ll die if I don’t know. What was that all about?"

"What do you mean, ‘What was that all about’?"

"Oh, come on, you know exactly what I mean. Messing with his hair, the chair, the looks. Are you two sleeping together again?"

You technically had no reason to hide anything from her, after all, you trusted her completely and had never hesitated to talk about your sex life. But this time... you kind of liked the idea of keeping whatever happened between you and Spencer just between the two of you.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. We're just acting like we usually do," you said.

"Yeah?" She raised an eyebrow, slowly pulling away from the police station, her gaze shifting between the road and you. "Then what were those sounds last night from his room?"

"Oh shit, did we make noise?"

She smiled triumphantly.

"I don't know, you tell me. I'm just teasing you. I'm on a completely different floor. But I'll take that as an admission of guilt."

"Manipulative bitch!"

"I'll take that as a compliment. So?"

You rolled your eyes with a heavy sigh, but eventually, you confirmed her suspicion with a nod.

"I thought you didn't sleep with the same guy twice."

"The air in Alaska really does something strange to me."

"Sure. The air," she scoffed, and you furrowed your brows in slight confusion, looking at her, waiting for her to elaborate. The car glided along one of those completely empty, snow-covered roads where there was nothing to focus on. "You know, I wonder why you just don't admit that you like him?"

"I don't hide the fact that I like him."

"Then why not give it a try?"

"Try what, Elle?"

She glanced at you sideways, her lips tightening at your obviously irritated tone. She didn't mean to upset you, of course, but that's how you felt. She sighed, as if thinking about how to approach the subject.

"You've learned to live with it," she finally began, slowly and cautiously weighing her words. "With that fear. Of intimacy and commitment."

"It's just a preference."

"No, it's not a preference. It's fear. You're afraid that if you get emotionally close to someone, you'll be abandoned, and you don't want to risk another painful loss. You want to have full control over the relationship and disappear when you feel like it's fading. Usually in the morning. It's a common mechanism, and it's not just about you. And no mechanism can be broken without making an attempt."

"Elle, stop. You're profiling me, and you know how much I hate that."

And actually, you hated being confronted with the truth about yourself and being internally forced to draw conclusions about yourself.

It was easy, living without reflecting on oneself. Especially when those reflections were painful. You could hurt yourself, unsuccessfully trying to confront them, or flow along with their current, completely subordinated to them and deaf to the words of others, who said you were only hurting yourself in the bigger picture.

 Elle dropped the subject, as you had arrived at the house of the man you were supposed to interview. She didn’t bring it up again afterward. The hours at work passed, and you only waited for that specific moment when you'd cross the threshold of that room again.

The previous night danced vividly in your mind, never slowing down or taking a break for a moment. As soon as he opened the door, you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing his face, and unbuckling his belt.

Spencer took a sharp breath, shocked and amused, as soon as you touched him.

"It would be incredibly awkward if someone were at my place right now," he chuckled into your mouth, half of his sentence drowned out by your kiss.

You pulled your face away just slightly, raising your eyebrows. It was only then that you noticed he was wearing glasses. Oh, he was so completely unaware of what you were about to do to him...

"How many people do you bring to yourself every night?" you asked.

"In that regard, only you. Besides, this is only the second time, so I wouldn’t call it every night... but I could always be here with someone, talking..."

"Keeping each other warm," you added.

Your hands slid under the fabric of his clothes, brushing the lower part of his stomach.

He noticeably tensed under your fingers, swallowing slowly, impatient and pleading.

"Engaging in a worldview discussion and exchanging conclusions," he finished, a smile playing on his lips.

"Uh-huh. Exactly like we are now. Honestly, does that turn you on? Do you want me to share my political views while you’re eating me out?” 

"This is probably the only scenario in which you could make me not feel pleasure because of it."

His hands hesitated, roaming uncertainly across your body, unsure of where to start. They brushed over so many spots, moving from one to the next, chaotic and desperate. 

You didn’t know where to focus – on the lips in the hollow of your neck, on the hand on your hips, or the other, slipping lower and lower?

Or perhaps on that sound, right by your ear, sweet, pleading whimper?

Moan left your body just for that reason and you already knew how you wanted the rest of the night to unfold. 

You gently pushed him back, and with quickened breath, you dropped to one knee, then the other.

"After yesterday, I couldn't stop thinking about you," you confessed, making sure your lips were close enough to his body as you spoke. You heard him inhale sharply, whispering something under his breath. "I couldn't focus on work at all. So today, I want to take care of you, completely."

You thought he would be satisfied with the offer; well, it was hard to deny that he was. Still, for some reason, he started shaking his head.

"N-no, that's not... I want to do it. Take care of you, I mean."

You couldn’t stop smiling, but at the same time, you weren’t about to back down, which should probably be enough to describe the dynamics of the following hours. 

At times, it was brutally slow, while at other moments, it was hurried and impressive. Sometimes, you interrupted each other constantly, unable to stop talking, and at other times, the only sound filling the room was your two breaths, the only constant, restless, and laced with moans and cries.

"You’re not leaving me tonight, right?" he asked, drawing closer to your body and holding you almost pleadingly. You laughed against his skin, shaking your head in denial.

 "At some point, I will have to. For about fifteen minutes, before everyone wakes up."

 "You’ll say you just came by for something. To ask a question or something," he tried to convince you.

 "Oh, at this early hour, looking like I’ve just done a two-hour workout? Derek would eat us alive. His eyebrow would never drop again. If I ever end up in hell, it will be with him there, looking at me like that." You tried to mimic his expression, tensing your jaw as you did.

"Stop, I feel harassed."

"You see? And if he found out about us, this is how the next... God, I can’t even predict when he’d get tired of it. Maybe in a year. Do you want to suffer for another whole year just to be with me for an extra fifteen minutes?"

 "I’d be able to survive that," he declared quietly, placing his hand under your head and playing with your hair with one of his fingers. "But if you don’t want it, I’m not going to waste time and try to convince you."

"Sure," you scoffed playfully. "So many things could be done in that time."

"Like what?" he asked, clearly intrigued. "Try to sleep. What were you hoping for?"

"Nothing, nothing. But you used a plural in that sentence and then only gave one thing. So, I’m waiting for the rest."

"That’s an overinterpretation."

"More like a simple analysis of sentence structure."

"Maybe sometimes it's better to analyze a little less. Spencer."

 "I don’t think I’m capable of that," he admitted, his tone a little more serious. You furrowed your brow, looking at his pale face in the weak light, showing signs of the night’s exhaustion. "That’s just how my brain works. It doesn’t give me much time to rest."

You often wondered what the world looked like from his perspective. How, in many ways, his genius was both a revelation and a curse. But you’d never heard him complain about it—until now. In fact, it wasn’t even a complaint, just a statement of fact, somewhat melancholy.

You kissed the top of his head, hoping it would have a soothing effect.

And indeed, it worked. He moved even closer to you, rested his head, and after a moment, almost at the same time, your eyelids fell.

*

The morning passed slowly and longingly, even though you were still so close to each other. However, there was the awareness that with the arrival of the day, you would have to wait many, many hours before you saw each other again. In a similar way, you meant. After all, at work, you constantly spent time together, which only made everything more difficult. It would have been much easier to push him out of your head and focus, if it weren’t for that.

Meanwhile, Spencer, perhaps trying to gently play on your nerves, cleaned his glasses much more often than necessary. But there was also the possibility that he was doing it the same amount as usual, and you were just imagining it.

"Are you doing that again?" Morgan nodded in his direction as a greeting when you were sitting in the guesthouse room that served as your team's meeting place. There was a long table in there, similar to the one in your office, but much narrower. Sitting across from Reid, you could easily touch his hand. If you wanted to. "Is this some new nervous tic of yours? Polishing them?"

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Spencer furrowed his brow in mock surprise, stopping the corner of his mouth from twitching. You kicked him under the table, and he couldn’t suppress a gasp.

To hide your amusement, you covered your face with your hand, but Morgan immediately picked up on it.

"Is this some new inside joke of yours?"

"He’s literally just polishing his glasses, leave him alone," you said.

Morgan’s eyebrows raised in the same way you had imitated him the night before. Neither of you could hold it in and burst into laughter.

"What’s going on?" JJ asked, walking into the room.

"Something very strange is going on," Derek announced mysteriously, staring at you both intently. His hands were resting on his hips, and his head tilted in thought. "Something very strange..."

Then Hotch arrived, even more serious than usual, which immediately dispelled the good mood. The rest of the team also arrived—Elle and Gideon—and everyone took their seats at the table.

"In the past few hours, there hasn’t been any concerning missing person reports," Hotch informed you. "On one hand, that’s good; on the other, it means the unsub will strike again soon. And we can’t let that happen."

"And you even have a plan," Gideon stated, with some sort of understanding in his eyes.

Hotch looked at you all with hesitation before nodding in confirmation.

"That's right, I have. I've concluded that we have no choice but to set a trap."

At those words, his gaze rested on Spencer, which was enough for you to figure it all out even before the main subject did.

"With all due respect, Hotch, have you lost your mind?!"

And how exactly do you envision this?" Elle asked, not as shaken as you but clearly concerned. "Sure, he fits the profile of his victims, but how is he supposed to set himself up? Walk around town and hope to get kidnapped?"

"At least two of the victims were abducted on the same stretch of road, after getting off the bus at the same isolated bus stop while walking home alone. It’s an exceptionally safe location for him," your boss explained.

"Honestly, I’m not convinced," Derek interjected, staring ahead with a furrowed brow. "I just don’t think he’d use the exact same spot again. Word has probably spread around the area that the FBI is on the case. He might be more cautious and change his methods."

"But he might just as well try again," JJ said quietly. You looked at her with clear surprise, as you had expected that, with her characteristic care for the team, she would be against the idea. "Right now, it’s the only thing we can do to try to prevent another abduction."

You drew a breath, understanding her arguments but remaining entirely opposed. Your gaze finally fell on Spencer, for the first time since the idea had even been brought up. He was sitting very upright, his brow furrowed, and he slowly began nodding.

"JJ’s right, it’s the only thing we can do," he said. He wasn’t looking at Hotch, nor even at the team as a whole—he was looking at you, directly and only at you. A calming, slightly nervous smile crossed his face, making you scoff. "Nothing’s going to happen to me. You’ll all be around, on the bus, near the stop."

With his words, the decision was made, and all you could do was shake your head in disbelief.

"I want to be on the same bus," you declared desperately, crossing your arms over your chest. You simply couldn’t reconcile with the fact that Spencer was willingly putting himself in harm's way—especially when the unsub's desire was to hurt people like him. "I’ll pose as a civilian. A random young woman. I shouldn’t seem like a threat, and someone from our team has to be inside."

"You’re right," Hotch replied, looking at you with sharp attention. "But it will be Elle."

You and your friend exchanged a confused look, startled by the firmness in his voice.

"I don’t think it makes much of a difference," she tried to intervene, which made you feel grateful.

Although, it didn’t change anything…

"I’m not obligated to explain myself to you about this decision, especially in front of the entire team. This is an order," Hotch announced with almost brutal professionalism. "The only thing I can say is that we need someone who won’t break character until the very end. Someone who won’t let emotions cloud their judgment."

"Are you sure you’re up for this?" Gideon asked, directing the question at Spencer. His tone was understanding, prepared to accept any refusal without judgment.

This time, he didn’t look at you. As Spencer nodded in confirmation, he actually avoided your gaze.

"Then we have the whole day to prepare for the sting. Let’s hope this leads to catching the unsub," Hotch concluded the meeting, signaling that you could leave the table.

You were torn between staying and screaming at your boss or leaving the room after Reid. Well, the second option wouldn’t get you fired. And, honestly, it seemed like the better choice. It turned out he wanted to talk to you too, as he was clearly waiting for you in the narrow hallway of the inn, where animal antlers hung on the walls and an informational board about moose was displayed.

"Are you angry because I want to do this?" he asked, the narrow walls around you making you stand quite close. Well, not as close as you could be, but close enough to add gravity to the conversation and allow you to study his face carefully.

Especially his determination. The determination for this job, for solving the case, and for preventing others from suffering the same tragic fate at the hands of this killer. Finally, you understood that your reaction was a bit irrational. Because if the victims were young women with your looks... you’d agree to it without hesitation. Some hypocrisy, huh?

"No. I'm just terrified that you're going to do this," you confessed, your honesty and concern making his face twitch in surprise. You snorted, trying to ease the tension. "I’m angry at Hotch for calling me emotionally unstable in front of all of you."

Spencer smiled gently, though there was stress hiding behind it. He may have been determined to go through with it, but that didn’t change the fact that there was fear accompanying him. He tried not to show it, but anyone in his position would feel it.

"Well, in his defense, he phrased it a bit more subtly."

You let out a soft laugh, stretching your arm out to gently touch his forearm. As your hand slid up, you leaned in a little, the simple gesture helping you feel more grounded and at ease.

His gaze followed your movements with a gentle satisfaction. You didn’t pull him closer, you were simply stroking his arm in that easy, caring way that calmed both of you.

"You’ve never done this before, have you?" you asked quietly. "You’ve never put yourself in this position like this."

He shook his head in denial.

"I’m really... really worried that I’ll do something wrong and we won’t be able to catch him because of me."

"You should worry about yourself, Spencer. Not about that. I’m sure you’ll play your part better than anyone could. "But I really regret that I won’t be able to be right next to you, in case something goes wrong."

His lips parted and closed in a kind of... amusement?

"I was going to say that maybe Hotch could be convinced, but then I realized, no, he won’t be. No matter what you say. And besides, having you there wouldn’t let me focus fully."

"I’m aware of that," you joked, tossing your hair dramatically. "After all, I look stunning."

"I was more referring to the fact that I’d be focused only on making sure nothing happens to you, but yeah. That’s one of the reasons too."

You fell silent, oddly moved by that confession. It was so simple, driven by care, affectionate. And it definitely made your head spin in the context of your relationship. You shook your head, pulling yourself away from those thoughts. As long as you were in Alaska, you could afford anything. After that, who knows.

You swallowed and put on a playful expression, it came with some effort, but you managed.

"Okay, genius-boy. Let me prepare you. You need to know how to behave."

"I thought I was just supposed to be myself," he noted, letting you pull him by the wrist.

"Well, mostly, yes. But it's still better to rehearse, get you into character. Don't you have any random fun facts to share?"

"I always have some fun facts to share. An endless amount."

"We'll see."

For the rest of the day, up until the inevitable moment of setting the trap for the unsub, you listened carefully to everything he had to say. His constant chatter allowed him to occupy his mind, pushing the stress aside to the point that, when it was time for him to head to the designated location, he seemed almost surprised that the hour had come. Only then did certain shadows begin to cross his face.

You paced restlessly around the inn as the whole team prepared. Your task was to take a position with Gideon at a certain distance from the bus stop, to cut off the unsub's escape route if necessary. The bus driver had agreed to cooperate, and JJ was giving him instructions, asking him to act as naturally as possible. There were to be no civilians on board, only Elle and a few inconspicuous local police officers. Hotch and JJ planned to follow the bus from a distance by car. Morgan was to lay low at the bus stop, also posing as a civilian.

You moved closer to Spencer, breathing heavily, his presence alone calming you down.

“You’ll be fine,” you reassured him just before you were about to leave. Morgan gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, and everyone was still gathered around you. You gently hugged him, just as any other friend would, just like Elle and JJ had moments before.

He, on the other hand, wasn’t concerned with appearances. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and rested his chin on top of your head in a strong, lingering embrace.

“Y/N, you and Gideon need to go now," Hotch interrupted.

As you were walking away, you noticed out of the corner of your eye that he also gave Reid a brief squeeze on the shoulder.

It was a truly tense moment. You found yourself in a position where you had no visibility on what was happening inside the bus, nor could you gauge the gravity of the situation. All you could hear through the earpiece was Elle's whispered signal informing you that the suspect, fitting the profile, had just entered the vehicle.

And even though you didn’t have high hopes for the plan, everything unfolded exactly as it was meant to. Spencer exited the bus, and the unsub followed him. The suspect seemed intent on tracking him down that desolate, shadowy road, planning to attack and abduct him. But at the last moment, Reid turned, and before the man could react, he was surrounded by the police.

On your last night in Alaska, you found yourself on top, with his head resting against the headboard of the bed, his hands placed on your hips, and in a position where you could look at each other and talk.

"You really did great today," you praised, leaning in to gently kiss his collarbone.

He didn't seem flattered by your words, no smile on his lips, just that sad, aching expression that caused you pain. Wanting to shake off the feeling, you quickened your movements, hoping it would work, but then he tightened his embrace, making you slow down once again.

"I want... I want to enjoy you," he said with a slightly embarrassed tone, his fingers tracing restless, tender circles on your bare skin. "Since this is our last time together."

For a moment, he gazed at your face, as if hoping you would say something. But he couldn't find any trace in your expression that would suggest you had changed your mind. The small, naive spark in his eyes faded. Elle's words about breaking the cycle echoed in your mind, but not in your heart. You couldn't turn them into reality; you simply couldn't. The agreement remained the agreement.

Once you returned, everything would go back to how it was before.

another author's note: I plan to create a tag list and I want to know who among you would like to be on it. please, let me know in the comments.

[takes1]

heyy I must tell you all those tsukishima fics were so good😭 i used to literally log on to tumblr everyday just becausd of yoy😭 can I request a mattsun x oblivious reader?? Where he has tried multiple times to tell her thwt he likes her but something or the other happens and he can't and also thr reader has absolutely no idea that he likes her. Maybe in thr end he can be like do you not like me and stuff snd then she is so confused becsue she did not think thwt he'd like her back snd lmao they go out later

mattsun x oblivious!reader

the sheer quantity of tsukki lovers was a shock when i first started posting that old series lemme tell you. i rlly appreciate that!!

warnings. sfw, fluff

details. libero!reader / girls team!reader / mattsun fluff / aoba johsai fluff / oblivious!reader / platonic?cuddling / mattsun is always warm / giving you his jacket trope / rbf!mattsun / thinking he hates you trope / pda / 2k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. requests OPEN

There was only so much to be done about the bitter cold tonight. The Aoba Johsai teams had their joint biyearly dinner, but thanks to a last-minute close for renovation at your usual spot, you and at least fifteen others were stuck waiting for a reservation outside on the town square.

"Fuck-k!" Oikawa shuddered loudly, teeth chattering as he stepped out from the restaurant you were all barred from.

Somebody whined, "I just wanna sit down!"

Iwa trailed close behind, steam practically coming off of his head as he stared down at his phone. He kept his foot in the door for an older couple, sparing a passive-aggressive look at how easily they were seated.

"It'll be another 20 minutes at least," You overheard him, quiet but frothing with frustration, to your own team captain.

Only a few were properly dressed for the weather outside. It was getting darker fast, and the wind was picking up.

You were able to catch a glimpse of his phone screen. He had the estimated wait time from the restaurant's website; 5 groups were before you, but they were nowhere to be seen.

A harsh wind howled through the street and inspired you to jump behind the nearest body. You and the other liberos were lucky to have your faces protected by the gathered group of shoulders and chests, but that's where your blessings ended. Your cardigan could've been made of tissue paper, how thin it was.

The wind settled and you glanced to see who you had nestled up to- you jumped back with a muffled yelp. It went ignored because of the symphony of complaints, curses to the weather.

Matsukawa was glowering down at you. God, was he warm, but he was so mean.

He was the most unsettling member of the guys' team by far. You got along fine with everyone else, but there was some unspoken hatred in his eyes every time you had to interact with him.

He often tried to speak with you after practice, about receiving of all things, quizzing you about your methods from the games he watched or practices he caught. You didn't like how his questions were made to make you feel stupid, so you tended to keep it short with him and run away as soon as you could.

His stare was harsh and judgmental, his frown deep and unforgiving. It gave the impression that he was tearing you apart in his mind.

"Awww, (Y/n)," Your captain, whom you had backed into, put her arms around you at once.

She didn't offer as much heat as him, but it helped to make you feel safer, and wanted. You turned and pressed your face against her chest as she pulled her jacket around the both of you.

Most of the girls were huddled similarly, choice of attire more of an issue than the heavy-coated guys.

Matsukawa wore a thick, black work hoodie, nice thick pants, boots, and a utility jacket over that. You squinted, jealous and bitter, at how he wasn't shivering at all.

"Tw- t-twenty- minutes?" You shuddered against her, sniffling.

She hummed, her cold, dead fingers no help against your sides.

The wind was so strong that it stole your breath with every gust. Your ears were throbbing, your nose numb, even when another teammate joined the huddle.

Not only had you not dressed for the cold, but you didn't expect to be standing so much, so your heels were killing your feet. Another twenty minutes wasn't doable.

"Hey! There's some benches over here!" Somebody called from down the sidewalk and around the corner.

Those that knew it would take longer, especially in uncomfortable shoes, instantly started to migrate away from the door of the restaurant.

The benches were a little wet from the light drizzle earlier. It made most of your teammates hesitate to sit down, including you. You gave a dismal sniffle, completely exhausted from shivering, unable to get any colder or more glum. You peeled off your cardigan.

"Hey, wait wait-!"

"Noo!"

Your teammates gasped, grabbing at you, as you used it to wipe the bench dry.

You turned, offering them a seat, your ferocious shaking in direct contrast to the point you were trying to make.

"It- was-wasn't keeping me warm-- anyway," You struggled to declare.

The three of you sat down on the freezing metal. At least it was dry now. You stared, twitching hard, at the soggy ball in your numb fingers and tried to zone out.

Your eyes had been closed when someone big squeezed in next to you, at the end of the bench. It was too much energy to open them to see who it was.

But a heavy, warm, and cozy presence over you shocked you to open your eyes again.

"Put this on before you pass out," Matsukawa muttered, hands grabbing at the back of his own hoodie, too.

Your face would've felt warm if not for the conditions. It was already stinging, but it stung some more.

"Thank you," You shivered.

His lowered, studied stare at you as you struggled to put on his hoodie with numbed limbs made you feel like a dumbass. He probably thought you were an idiot.

His arm was so solid as he took his outer jacket back, to put it on over his long sleeve shirt. You quickly put up the plush hood and pulled the drawstrings, ears pounding at the relief of some heat.

Then his arm was back, around your shoulders, rubbing firm to get you warmed up faster.

"Thank you," You repeated, better now, and all you could possibly think to say.

When you glanced at him, you found him looking around. There was a protective air to him, like he was busy watching for something while he took care of you. He wore it well.

His hoodie smelled distinctly like him and you found that you did not mind it in the slightest. You were subtle, pulling it over your nose -breathing deep now that you weren't struggling to filter this icy cold air-, letting your body get wracked by his strong rubbing, your head steadied a little on the inside of his big shoulder. It slowly fell, heavier, on him as you learned to trust that he was being helpful.

The wind picked up again- this time you felt invulnerable to its brutality, but he squeezed his working arm into your waist and pulled you, shockingly easy, into his side with no space left between your bodies.

At this point, you were feeling guilty for enjoying it so much. There was no ounce of softness in his angry face to indicate he wanted to hold you. His nose crunched more at the wind, now that he had less layers to protect him. You could only assume he was just being chivalrous.

It made the remainder of the wait harder, in a different way.

"Oh," Iwa raised his brow at you as you passed him to go inside.

He didn't look at you for long, because he referred his gaze to Matsukawa and exchanged a smirk you couldn't see.

When you were all seated, nobody went to sit right next to you. The table was full except for the one seat while everyone filed in. At first, Watari pulled the chair out, but took one look at you and also said, "Ooh," before sitting elsewhere.

Matsukawa sat down without so much as a look at you.

Every guy at the table was looking at him, so you knew you were right about something. You just didn't know what, yet.

The whole evening, he was quiet and only spoke a few times when directly referred to. Otherwise, you felt the weight of his subtle, unwavering gaze anytime you mustered up the courage to contribute to the conversation at the table.

Surely he just wanted his hoodie back. He wore it so often, so it must have been how pitiful you looked outside to make him give it up like that.

Bellies full, bill paid, and a little more relaxed after a fun dinner out with friends despite his presence, you were all starting to leave to go home.

You stood still outside for a moment, sniffling but content, pulling up a route on your phone to walk back to the bus stop. It was a subtle way to wait for him to come out, so you could give him back his hoodie and brave the freezing journey back.

"You got somebody to walk you back?"

He leaned down to speak quietly, just to you. You watched his hand close the distance and rest on your shoulder. It made you stutter.

"Not- not officially."

Then he was walking you back to the bus stop, making a silent trek more difficult than it had to be if you had just gone by yourself. When you spared some meager glances at him, he had that same vibe about him- like he was preoccupied, displeased, and would be unpleasant if you tried to say anything.

It would be another five minutes for the bus.

He stood close to you, his arm against yours, because this bench was wet and you weren't going to repeat that mistake.

"Do you- uh," He rocked a little on his heels when you looked at him, "Do you not... like me?"

It was a staggering question. You held yourself, painfully aware that you were only standing because of his hoodie around you.

"Sure, I like you," You said in a stilted tone.

It wasn't enough and you knew it as it rolled off your tongue.

You cleared your throat. He looked away.

"I mean- I thought you hated me before today, so," You gave an empty laugh to help ease the tension.

"Hate you?" He turned towards you, hands in his pockets. It was the most emotion you had ever seen on his face.

Clearly, something was off. You squinted at him but only could hold it for a second, "Well, yeah, you're kinda... mean-,"

The shock on his face made you stumble over your words.

"But- uh, today you were so nice! Thank you, for your hoodie, that was very sweet-," You glanced around his face, confused, trailing off, "-of, you..."

He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh, eyes closed, pained at your words. You felt astoundingly guilty, more cold than ever, in a way.

"I gave you my hoodie because I like you."

He put the hand back in his pocket, turning to face the street, watching the lamp posts with a forlorn air about him, "I've been tryin' to ask you out for months."

Your mouth hung open. You covered it, after a few seconds, with your hand.

Was that what all the looks meant? Was that seriously what he was getting at every time he spoke to you? Your face warmed- a welcome sensation.

"I... didn't know," You said simply, pressing up to his side.

It worked, thank god, and though it took him a second, he put a hefty arm around you.

"You were really that clueless?" He muttered, rubbing his warm face with his other hand.

The truth did feel pretty obvious in hindsight, but you reminded him, "You're more intimidating than you think."

In the quiet, the bus sighed around the corner.

"So... I can keep the hoodie?"

You looked up at him, excited at what you could see now as his nervousness. He pressed a hasty kiss to the top of your head as the bus rolled to a stop in front of you.

"Hell, yeah."

VIP

@integers @yuchacco

my masterlist. my request box.

[sapphic-kpop-fics]

Hometown (Huh Yunjin x Reader)

Angst, fluff, smut

Reader is from New York for the plot, friends to lovers, first time, soft sex

You can see Yunjin sitting next to you through your peripheral, you were currently on a flight to New York for an award show, You and Yunjin’s home state you from the middle of NYC and her near Albany. There was a tension between you two, you had confessed your feelings for her but she said she “needed time to think” but she hadn’t spoken to you since.

Of course you tried, but she walked away before you could get to her or blatantly ignored you. You tried giving her the benefit of the doubt, that maybe she just didn’t know how to come to terms with her feelings rather than she hates you now for having feelings for her.

That was three days ago and of course your assigned seats were next to each other, and your members refused to switch.

“You have to talk to her eventually.” You remember Chaewon saying when you asked her, sending you back to sit in your seat.

Now here you were, staring out the window and praying the next fifteen hours went by quickly. You can see Yunjin’s mind running a mile a minute whenever you take a peek at her, at some point it looks like she’s about to speak to you but decides not to. Though it sends a flicker of something through you, hope that she’d finally talk to you.

But she stays silent most of the flight, only talking to ask if you wanted snacks. The drive to the hotel was no better as the others came together to force you to sit together in the backseat, Yunjin in the middle with you to her left and Sakura to her right, your shoulders are pressed together and you can swear her hand that rest on her knee is inching closer to you the whole ride but as soon as she’s about to hold your hand the van comes to stop in front of your hotel.

Luckily, you were blessed and had to share a room with Eunchae not Yunjin who was rooming with Kazuha. In the lobby Yunjin seems to be talking, or more so plotting something with Eunchae who keeps looking over to you as you try to focus on your conversation with Sakura.

In the room after you’ve settled down in the room, resting on your bed, Eunchae gets a text and abruptly stands up.

“Where are you going?” You ask, knowing that she was planning earlier.

“To see Zuha. I’ll be back later.” The youngest says opening the door, smiling at you.

“Oka-“ you get out before she’s gone.

Now you try to just focus on your phone, but you’re interrupted by a knock. Which is coincidentally exactly five minutes after Eunchae leaves. Getting up to answer you open the door, not thinking to check the peep hole first. Yunjin stands there, glasses on and orange hair messily framing her face. The sight makes your heart skip a beat but only for a second before you’re subconsciously shutting the door on her.

A hand comes out to stop it from closing, pushing it open enough to slide herself in.

“Get out.” Is the first words out of your mouth.

“No.” Yunjin backs against the door to close it, essentially blocking your only exit though you contemplate just jumping out the window.

“Why? Finally have enough of ignoring me?”

“I wasn’t ignoring you. I told you I needed time.”

“You’ve said 5 words to me this week, Yunjin.”

“I’m sorry. I just couldn’t think around you, you make me…crazy.” She exhales the last word, like she can’t believe the effect you have on her.

“I’m still mad at you.” You say, but there’s a hint of forgiveness in you that makes Yunjin smile and walk up to you grabbing your hands in hers.

“Let me make it up to you.”

“Wh-“

“A walk. In the park. We can even go to that place you told me about.” Yunjin cuts you off excitedly, recalling something you had told her as trainees, when still in New York after you walked your local park you’d stop at a small Korean store owned by family friends to get snacks for the way home. Coincidentally your hotel wasn’t far from there.

“But pe-“

“There will be a manager and a security guard with us the whole time.” She reads your mind, “plus it’s late, there shouldn’t be too many people.”

A hint of a smile tugs at the edges of your lips but remembering you’re supposed to be mad at her you hold it back.

“Fine.” You say before turning to grab your bag.

You look pointedly at the door and then her, Yunjin gets the hint and opens the door for you, doing little bow as you passed and then following you out.

“Loser.” You say under your breath.

“Hey!” She pushes your shoulder.

A manager and a security guard wait at the end of the hall by the elevator, entering behind you guys. You stand at the back of the elevator next to Yunjin, hands brushing together, wanting to interlock them but neither having the courage yet.

The hotel is close enough to the park, so you walk the whole way, shoulder to shoulder with Yunjin while the other two stand far enough behind to not hear your conversation but close enough to keep a good eye on you.

After a few minutes Yunjin finally interlocks your fingers, her grip is strong like she’ll lose you.

“Do you think we would’ve met if we both stayed in New York?” Yunjin suddenly asks after a few moments of silence.

“I don’t know, I’d like to think so. Why?”

“I don’t know, maybe we’re like soulmates or something.” She mumbles the soulmates part, a contrasting point of vulnerability.

Did the girl you’re in love with just say you might be soulmates?

This makes you stop, Yunjin stopping when feeling resistance against her hand holding yours. She stares at the ground, seemingly embarrassed by her words.

“Soulmates?” You ask, a teasing smile on your face.

“Shut up.” A blush on her cheeks along with a smile before she turns and pulls your hand to walk with her again.

“For what it’s worth.” You start when you’re shoulder to shoulder with her again, “I think you’re my soulmate too.”

“You do?” Turning her head to look at you, now with a blush covering your own face.

“Of course I do Jen.”

You reach the store after a little while, it’s late so it’s only you two in there and the cashier who you recognize from your teen years as an old friend’s dad.

“Y/n??” He says when he makes eye contact, coming from behind the counter to greet you.

“Hi Mr.Kim.” You say, shyly as Yunjin looks at you with an adoring smile.

“How have you been?” The man asks, bringing you into a hug, “besides insanely successful.”

You flush once again, and Yunjin’s smile becomes brighter.

“Good.”

His eyes go to the orange haired girl behind you.

“Oh, this is Yunjin. My uh.. friend.” You settle on, after all you don’t want to tell this man that the only label you’ve reached is soulmate.

“Hi. It’s nice to meet you.” Yunjin says, her kind voice and smile making you melt.

“Likewise.” He says before another customer walks in to the counter, “That’s my cue, take anything you want. On the house.” Walking away before you can protest.

“He’s nice.” She says catching your attention, “friend?”

“Jen…”

She holds up her hands defensively, a playful smile resting on her face.

“Kidding.” Grabbing your hand to drag you down an aisle, “you already called me your soulmate.” This makes you groan, she’ll never stop teasing you for this even if she was the one that said it first.

“You’re so annoying.” You grumble to her as she picks out various snacks, mostly your favorites making you smile at the thoughtfulness.

“You love it.”

You do.

Leaving the store, and subtly leaving enough money to pay even with the insistence that it’s on the house. Yunjin doesn’t let you drop her hand the whole walk, feeding you some kind of chips she opened before you even walked out the store.

Eventually come to a stop at a platform overlooking a bit of the park, you rest your head on her shoulder while she puts hers on top of your head. Still holding hands, Yunjin finds a bit more courage to bring yours to her lips and leave a kiss there before moving her head to leave one on your forehead.

Both make you lift your head up to look at her, and then the space around you, only your staff is around. No on lookers to invade your privacy, and no cameras.

“It’s just us. Don’t worry.”

Her big brown eyes stare into yours, almost pleading, they flicker down to your lips quickly almost imperceptibly. You return the look, turning your body a bit more to face her better.

“Jen.”

“Hm.” She’s blatantly staring at your lips now, you’re not sure if she’s actually listening.

“Kiss me.”

Like magnets you’re immediately connected, it’s soft but passionate. Both spoken and unspoken feelings being told through it.

“Can we go back now?” You whisper against her lips barely pulling away.

Yunjin looks around for your staff, who are trying (and failing) to pretend to not see you having your private moment.

“Yeah let’s go.”

The walk to the hotel is fairly short, both of you putting extra speed into it as you anticipate what will happen when you get there. At some point Yunjin stops holding your hand to move it to your waist, making your breath shake which causes her to smirk to herself.

You get to the elevator, staff still with you so you fight the urge to make out with her then and there. The hand on your waist tightening a bit and pulling you closer, her fingertips slipping underneath the edge of your shirt leaving goosebumps on your skin.

The walk down the hallway is almost worse, now alone her hand teasing your skin even more. Your room is all the way at the end of the hall, taking only a minute however it felt like hours. You both stop at the door pausing, you’re so caught up in her hand on you and how hot she looks you forget it’s your room and you have to unlock the door.

“Are you going to unlock the door?” Yunjin whispers, obviously aware of the reason of your spacing out.

“Oh, y-yeah.” You stutter, hiding your blush by digging in your bag for your room key.

Your hands shake a bit, maybe from the teasing or maybe from the anticipation of what’ll happen when you open the door.

You don’t have to wonder long, as soon as you open the door you’re being pushed against it so it closes. She kisses you while doing so, hands going to your face to pull you closer while you hold on to her waist. You make out for a few minutes, and it gets more heated by the second when suddenly you have a realization causing you to pull away.

“Wh-“ Yunjin starts.

“Eunchae.”

“Don’t worry about her.” Waving you off before leaning back in which you pull away from.

“What if she walks in?”

“We switched rooms.”

“Wait.” You think, “Were you planning on getting me in bed tonight? Is that why you were talking to Eunchae?” You question, playfully.

“You’re the one who asked to come back for this.” She teases, leaning closer to your lips, “But yes that is why I asked Eunchae to switch.”

You can barely get your laugh out before she’s reconnecting your lips, it’s the most heated kiss of the night. Her teeth pull your bottom lip making you open your mouth in a moan, which Yunjin takes advantage of this letting her tongue explore your mouth.

Getting a bit bolder your hands pull at her jacket, slipping it off her shoulders before she lets it fall off her arms to the floor, which makes the taller girl smile into the kiss and start lifting your shirt over your head.

You hadn’t worn anything underneath, you had thought you would spend the night in your bed but Yunjin changed that. With your bare chest on display, Yunjin stares idiotically with her mouth slightly open and hands on your now exposed waist.

“You’re gonna catch flies.” You say to try and hide how flustered you are.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” It’s breathless and she can barely get it out before she’s eagerly reconnecting your lips.

Yunjin hands grip your hips to guide you back to your bed, her lips not leaving yours as she leads you to lay down immediately pulling at the pants you’re wearing and throwing them off to the side.

Your own hands mess with the edge of her shirt and pulling slightly, eyes looking up to her with a pleading look.

“Want me to take this off?” She teases, a playful grin on her face, but she takes it off anyways and quickly follows up by unclasping her bra and throwing it off to the side.

Once again her lips are moving against yours passionately.

“This won’t ruin us, right?” You ask pulling away, surprising Yunjin with the sudden question.”

“Never.” She affirms with an undoubted firmness, rejoining your lips it’s noticeable more soft and gentle, letting her love transfer through it.

A hand makes its way to your thigh, at first just resting there before slowly gliding up and down but not moving otherwise.

“Can I touch you?” Yunjin whispers against your lips, waiting for you to verbally respond before moving her hand.

“Please.”

Her middle finger slowly slides from your clit to your entrance collecting some wetness before moving back up to rub slow circles over you gauging your reaction before going too far.

“Oh.” You gasp out at the sensation making Yunjin speed up her finger.

“Tell me if it’s too much.” She says, though she doesn’t seem to pay attention to much to her own words as she looks at where her hand is connected to you, she pushes her middle and ring fingers into you after the sentence.

Her movements are slow, going in and out of you almost gently. Eyes now looking into yours adoringly, her free hand brushing your hair out of your face.

“Oh fuck” You moan out.

“Feel good?” She asks, not a hint of teasing as she is determined to please you.

“Mhm, so good Jen.”

You swear you can hear her moan at her name coming out of your mouth in your breathy whiny voice.

“M’ so lucky. Get to hear those pretty moans. Whimpering my name.” Her blissed out face as she moves her fingers inside of you, still at a mild pace, “You’re so pretty.” A soft kiss on your forehead then your cheek and jaw, “You don’t know what you do to me.” She whispers when her lips are by your ear.

“Faster, Jen. Please.”

“You sure?” She asks warily

“Please. M’ so close.” You beg.

“Yeah?” Her fingers speed up finally, curling up as they move.

“Oh my god.” Your hands grasp at her back.

“You’re doing so good.” Yunjin’s voice praises you.

Your back arches off the bed, and Yunjin feels you tighten around her fingers groaning slightly at the resistance she feels.

“Come on baby let go.” She softly demands, your body reacting, shaking as you moan out into the hotel room. She leaves gentle kisses on your face as you settle from the overwhelming orgasm.

“How’s that for making it up to you?” Yunjin asks from above you with a confident smile.

“Hmm.” You pretend to think, “You’re forgiven.” Smiling back at her, “Though if that’s the apology every time I’m mad at you, then I am so angry right now.”

Yunjin can’t help but laugh at your words, needless to say the night was filled with many more apologies from the taller girl which she generously gives away.

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ don’t blame me ] n. hischier

paring : Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary : after a great performance by the captain but a loss for the devils, Nico airs out his frustrations to his girlfriend after the game and she does her best to make him feel better

warning(s) : a v frustrated nico, some yelling, angst w a very happy ending

author’s note : okay look i saw people on twt blaming nico for the ot loss against the caps and was reading what he said after the game and got all sad abt it so i channeled my own feelings into this. it’s short but full of emotion so i hope you enjoy

༺──────────────༻

Over the years, she’s seen how upset Nico can be while he does his postgame interviews. Tonight though, he seems extra distraught about the game despite his own performance.

He played an incredible game. Two goals, an assist, on the ice for four of the Devils’ five goals, and an impressive faceoff percentage. Yet, the boys in red and black lost 6-5 in overtime to the Capitals.

She watches Nico’s interview when it drops while she waits in the car for him after the game. He says they didn’t deserve to win, but she knows that he deserved that win. He barely even talked about his Devils record with those two goals he scored in ten seconds at the beginning of the second period.

Fastest two goals scored by the same player in franchise history, and he skimmed over that question and had a very short answer when he did.

Nico blames himself for the loss, and he shouldn’t because he played some incredible hockey tonight. It’s a shame they couldn’t pull out the win for him. It breaks her heart that he blames himself for that overtime goal. He got caught on a bad change. It’s not his fault.

She wants to text him to let him know that the outcome of the game isn’t his fault, but she lets him have his few moments alone to ponder and think about the game like he does whenever he plays. She knows she’ll get her time with him when he comes out of the Prudential Center.

An hour after the game ends, and a short ten minute nap for her, Nico leaves the building. He walks out with Jack and Timo. He says something to them before he gets in the passenger’s seat of her car.

A frown forms on her face when he doesn’t say anything to her when he gets in. He types something on his phone instead of saying something to her.

“Neeks?” she says to get his attention. He looks up at her when she calls his nickname. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

His voice is low and hoarse like he’s been crying. His usually bright eyes are dark and swollen. She wouldn’t put it past him to shed some tears in frustration that he’s probably feeling. It’s not the first time his team has left him out to dry after an incredible performance. He takes all the blame as their captain too despite none of it being his fault.

It truly does break her heart.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she questions. “Or do you just want to go home?”

“Go home,” Nico replies. “Please. I don’t feel like talking about the game right now.”

She nods silently and puts the car in reverse to pull out of the parking spot. Nico remains quiet as she begins to drive back to their shared apartment.

At one of the red lights she stops at, she glances over to see Nico scrolling on some social media app and frowns. He lets out a soft sigh before he turns off the phone and looks out the window.

This is not how Nico reacts after games. Either he’s very talkative about the game and how well the team did or he is venting to her about how bad they played that night if none of them played well. Quiet Nico after one of his best performances is slightly concerning. Even after the whole team lost.

The drive back to their apartment is fifteen minutes once she actually pulled out of the parking lot. Nico gets out as soon as it’s in park and begins the trek into the building. She follows close behind him so they can get on the elevator together to go up to their floor.

As soon as they’re behind the safety of a closed door, he pulls the beanie off his head and launches it across the living room until it hits the wall.

“Sometimes I wish they never gave me the stupid C,” he suddenly blurts out. “I let them put all the blame on me and I take all the blame. I do that so they can perform better on the ice instead of their mentality ruining their game on the ice and this is what they do? Fuck!”

She quickly walks up to her boyfriend and says, “You do that because you’re a good captain, Nico. You’d probably let them even if you didn’t wear the C on your chest. That is the kind of guy you are.”

He looks down at her and takes a step back. “You don’t understand,” he replies. “I already blame myself for that last goal they scored. I was on a change and the puck went into the net while I was trying to get off the ice to get some fresh skates on. That’s on me because if I had just stayed on the fucking ice, we would’ve won that game. I would’ve found a way to get a turnover and I would’ve put the puck into the net myself because I played really great tonight for them to barely show up.”

“You’re frustrated,” she tells him. “And that’s fine. You’re so valid in your frustration and feelings, but do not think for one second that the loss is on you. You said it. You played great tonight so this is not on you. It sucks that your team couldn’t back you up.”

Nico runs his fingers through his hair. “Every loss is on me,” he replies. “They can blame me all they want, but I need them to back me up. I can’t keep putting up these multi-point nights for them to fuck it up while I’m not on the ice. It fucks with my head sometimes and I’m over it. I’m so over this because it happened so many times.”

She wraps her arms around his torso and rubs his back. “You’re the best captain,” she reminds him. “This is who you would be no matter what is on your chest. One day, all this will pay off. It will end with you raising the Cup then passing it to Jack. They will get you the Cup before the end of your career. All this frustration you’re feeling has an end. One way or another.”

He buries his face into her hair and wraps his arms around her shoulders. “I just need them to back me up,” he mumbles. “I can only take their blame so they can play better for so long before it fucks with me.”

“I know, Neeks,” she replies. “But you’re doing a great job at helping them be their best selves and the best players they can be on the ice. You just have to remind yourself that this will all come to an end at some point.”

Nico nods against her hair. “That overtime goal is on me though,” he tells her.

“Nico Hischier, I’m going to kick your ass if you blame yourself for any part of that loss,” she sharply replies as she pulls away from the hug. “It is not on you. There was nothing you could have done to change that outcome. You put everything into that game and that’s that. You were the best player on the ice tonight in every single statistic. Got it?”

He nods again quietly. “Got it,” he sighs. “Sorry that I’m venting like this to you. I am a little frustrated. It’s supposed to be a new season and I’m seeing things from last season that I thought we already worked on.”

“That’s fine,” she tells him. “Just don’t take it out on yourself, okay? I don’t like this quiet, frustrated Nico. Talk to me, talk to your team, talk to your coaches. It helps.”

Nico gives her a small smile. “I know.”

“Good,” she says. “Now, go take a shower because you still stink. I’ll make us some snacks and we can watch a movie, okay?”

He nods again and walks down the hallway.

Yeah, he’s allowed to be frustrated. Blaming himself is not the best thing to be doing, especially with the way he has been playing to start the season.

There are still 70 something games left to play. He doesn’t need to blame himself on game 8 of the season.

༺──────────────༻

MASTERLIST

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[ladykailitha]

Of Butterflies and Backstrokes Part 11

Hey guys! We're back!! It is feeling like this story is almost done, but every time I finish a chapter I go "This has two more chapters in it, I'm almost done!" and I've done that for the last three chapters. So I have given up trying to figure out when it's going to end. Hopefully the answer is sometime before the next Olympics.

In this we have a silly Eddie, Steve and Max are sneaky, and Max and Eddie have their first competition.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

~

Steve continued to have good days and bad days, but always Eddie and Robin were there to help him work through the bad. And then he would spill it all out to Dr. Hughes.

Today he had been able to wade out to Max in the main pool to correct her foot work. The water had come up to his chest, just like it did in the kiddie pool.

“All right,” Steve said gently. “I’m going to touch your leg. If you feel uncomfortable in anyway, I’ll have Robin do it instead, okay?”

Max thought about it for a moment. “But just my leg right?”

“Just your ankle even,” he assured her. “Ready?”

Max waded over to the side of the pool and started kicking her feet to level out her body. Steve gently grabbed her ankle and repositioned her foot so it was more like an extension of her leg.

“Whoa!”

“That’s right,” he said, “now keep it like that.”

Robin and Eddie who had been working in the endless pool came back to the main pool just as Steve was pulling his shirt back on.

Eddie eyed the wet swim trunks and the happily kicking Max and a sly smile spread over his face. “Stevie... you wouldn’t have happened to have gotten into the pool with Max would you have?”

Steve batted his eyelashes innocently. “Who me?” He turned to Max. “Did you see me get into the pool?”

“Nope!”

Eddie knelt on the side of the pool and said, “I’ll buy you ice cream for the next month if you tell me if he got in the pool.”

Robin sneaked up behind him and with Max’s help pulled him into the water as gently as they could, as to not trigger Steve.

It must have worked because when they all came up for air, Steve was doubled over with laughter.

“Absolute menaces the lot of you,” he said once he caught his breath. “I got the competition schedule for next week. Max is in beginner and Eddie in intermediate. I tried to argue for higher, but they because you’ve been out for so long, they want you in there first to see if you have room to grow.”

Eddie wiped the water off of his face. “That’s fair. I don’t think I’m ready for higher yet anyway.”

Steve gave him a fond look. “And then that’s what we’ll do. If you don’t feel comfortable competing at above intermediate yet, then I won’t force you. I just worry they’ll accuse of you of deliberately choosing lower to spank fifteen and sixteen year olds.”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment.

“Oh.”

He went to go shove his hair in front of his face, but it was all tucked away in his cap, so he started to sink into the water.

Steve, Robin, and Max all watched as he held his breath under water.

“So how long do you think he can hold his breath?” Max asked after about a minute. “Because I think cell death happens after three minutes.”

“Eh...” Robin said waving her hand back and forth, “about four to five, actually.”

Just then Eddie burst through the water, gasping for air. He wiped the water away and looked around. “So is anyone going to be nice and completely forget that happened?”

All three of them shared glances with each other and then said together, “No.”

Eddie buried his head in his hands. He slunk off to his lane with a sigh. “Woe! Woe is me! For I have been forsaken by my own team. Woe!”

Steve and Max shared a glance.

“Is he always this dramatic?” Max asked, eyeing Eddie splashing about and moaning about his fate or some shit.

Robin scoffed as she pulled herself out of the pool and rotated to sit on its edge. “This is tame for him, if I’m being honest.”

Eddie stopped his sputtering and turned to her quickly. “I? I am dramatic?” Then he made a sweeping bow, nearly face planting into the water. “Why thank you!”

Everyone giggled but Max and Eddie got back into their lanes and started practicing again. Robin got up and went to go stand by Steve.

“I’m glad you were able to help Max on your own,” she murmured. “But just remember, if you can’t, call and I’ll coming running, okay?”

“Okay.”

~

It was their first swim meet and Robin wasn’t sure who was more nervous, Max and Eddie or Steve.

She was sure that that pen lid would be a mangled, tangled up mess by the time this was over with.

She looked around the room, spotting a few friends, the Hell Squad from their own facility, and one very unfriendly face indeed.

Billy Hargrove.

Billy Hargrove was a swimmer from California and he thought living on the coast instantly made you a better swimmer. He even had that bit of surfer boy charm. You’d expect this blond haired, blued eyed, tan Adonis to start singing Beach Boys or some shit, but no.

Billy Hargrove was an ass. And he hated all the comparisons between him and Steve at the last Olympics. Dude went on to barely win bronze in two of five events and not medal in any of the others.

Today he was wearing a red and gold coach’s jacket with HARGROVE emblazoned on the back with two blonds standing next him as he talked them in low voices. One was a girl with strawberry blonde hair, green eyes, and bright smile. The other was a guy that looked about the same age as the girl. He looked like he had walked out the pages of Good Christians R Us. Hair neatly cut, blue eyes, chiseled jaw and washboard abs.

Robin hated them both on sight.

She was about to steer Steve away from all that when Billy looked up immediately clocked Steve, who promptly stiffened.

Max and Eddie who were talking to him noticed the sudden change in Steve’s demeanor. And unlike the locker room with Andy, Eddie could tell that this was a different breed of shark coming their way.

“Stevie...” Billy greeted. “When I saw the name Harrington I was wondering if that was you and then here you are. Such a pleasant surprise.”

Robin and Steve shared a bitchy glance. “Pleasant isn’t the word I would use,” Steve scoffed.

“You actually getting in the water, Harrington, or are you going to bitch out again?” Billy went on as if Steve hadn’t said a word.

Steve seethed. Billy had been present the first time he tried to get into the pool after his accident and started screaming.

“Don’t worry, darlin’,” Eddie said with a grin, “Stevie here doesn’t need to get in the water to beat you. He has me.”

Billy looked him up and down and he looked impressed for all of two seconds before he scoffed. “I didn’t think they allowed boys with such pretty curls,” he said tugging on one of the strands. Eddie swatted his hand away. “Maybe you should be on the girls’ team.”

“Last time I checked,” Eddie huffed, “I have the balls for the men’s team. Can’t say the same for the asshole who came up and harassed a guy that had his Olympic dreams washed away because of faulty equipment that left him traumatized and hurt for life, but still loves to swim so much that he would rather coach then to walk away forever.”

Billy’s face twisted in rage and he opened his mouth to reply when the whistle sounded. He jabbed a finger in Eddie’s face. “We’re not done.”

He walked off and suddenly all the tension built up in Steve escaped like a deflated balloon.

“That guy is a dick,” Max hissed. “My mom used to date a guy just like him out in Cali. Wouldn’t surprise me if they were related.”

That made Steve laugh. “I’ll beat him where I’ve always beaten him, in the water. Now come on, it’s time for you two to hit the showers. The beginners are about to start. You’re in the third heat, Max, first podium.”

She nodded and her and Eddie took off their team shirts and hit the showers. Steve looked over at Billy and smirked. Billy was watching every inch of Eddie’s body as he padded over to the showers that were next to the pool.

Robin handed him his bobby pins and he deftly put his hair under the cap, making it as sleek as any of the other male contestants.

The first set of eight girls lined up and then they were off with the shot of the starting gun. Steve watched, looking out for the girls that would be Max’s competition. So far none of the girls showed real promise and that included the girl who won.

The next heat was the same. None of the other girls had the same spark Max did. He looked up to the stands where the families were supposed to there to cheer them on. Robin’s parents were there. Eddie’s uncle, too. Of course Steve’s parents wouldn’t be there. He hadn’t talked them in so long.

He didn’t see the woman that would come to pick up Max and it made Steve squirm a bit. Then just before Max’s heat, he saw her come rushing in. Her hair was wild as if she had been running and she looked out of breath. She leaned over to whisper something to Wayne. Wayne shook his head and pointed to where Max was getting ready to get up on her podium.

Steve went over to her and pointed up at the stands.

Max’s eyes lit up and she waved at her mom. Her mom waved back. Max got up on her podium and put her goggles in place over her eyes. Steve stepped back and gave the judge with the gun a nod, showing that he had moved back far enough. Then the gun went off.

Max easily kept pace with the other girls and managed to squeak out winning by an arms length, touching her pad first.

She pulled off her goggles and looked at her time. She had clearly won. She started jumping and shrieking in the water. She pulled herself out and ran up to give Steve the biggest hug.

“I told you, you could do it,” Steve murmured into her cap.

“Yeah, yeah,” she huffed. “Nerd.”

They went through the next few heats and Max came in third overall in the girls division. Which considering it was her first meet, was very impressive.

Then it was time for the intermediate and as they watched the girls, Eddie began bouncing up and down to warm up his muscles.

“You ready to blow these people out of the water?” Steve asked with a grin. “I gave the organizers one last chance to put you in masters, but they wouldn’t do it.”

Eddie chuckled. “I don’t have the confidence you do in me, but hell yeah, I’m ready.”

Steve slapped him on the shoulder and watched as Eddie got up to the podium. He pulled the goggles over his eyes and turned away from the water.

This is what he loved most of all about the backstroke. Not facing the water or seeing his competitors out of the corners of his eyes. It was just him and waiting for the sound of the gun.

BANG!

And then he was arching backwards into the water, as smooth as silk. His arms and body worked with the water, slicing through like a hot knife through butter. He could hear the splashing of the other competitors but they all seemed so distant to himself. Not that they were that far away. Only that he felt on whole other realm then they were.

He touched the pad and peeled off his googles to look up at the clock.

He was in first place.

He was in first place.

He was in first place.

He looked up at the stands to see Mrs. Mayfield and Uncle Wayne on their feet and cheering for him. He raised his fist and they waved back excitedly.

It came as no surprise that he won best overall.

He was standing next to Steve celebrating with his team, when the judges came up to them.

“We would like to talk to you about moving up to the masters,” the first judge said with a grimace.

Eddie and Steve shared a knowing grin.

“I think that could be arranged,” Steve said, smug. The ‘I told you so’ lingering in the humid air of the pool.

~

Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

Tag List: CLOSED

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2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @eriquin

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

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7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @chameleonhair @sadisticaltarts @dreamercec @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @mac-attack19

10- @aol19 @tartarusknight @morallyundefined

[judes-hoe]

Timeless Desires~KM9

Parrings ~ Kylian Mbappé x reader

Summary ~ Your a pro ice skater in Madrid, when you heard the famous Kylian Mbappé was coming to Madrid you followed him, and he followed you too. So what happens when he finally lands in Madrid?

Warnings ~ mentions of weird DMs,

A/N ~ just a short series:) (also reader is and ice skater/ figure skater!!!)(and I’m not a figure skater and some stuff might be wrong sorry!!!)

Pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5

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

You were a pro ice skater, you competed in lots of competitions. You lived in Madrid, you couldn’t ask for a better life. In your free time you read books and watch football. Obviously a big Madrid fan, you always get season passes to the matches.

Well one day you were scrolling on your phone and saw that a certain frenchie was coming to Madrid. You’ve honestly been waiting for it to be confirmed for a while and now it is. So you decided to follow him only to see ‘follow back’ when you do. It made your mind wonder how you’ve never noticed.

About a month passed, you were at the ice rink you practiced at. Going through and practice your routine with your coach. When you were done and getting ready to leave you saw a notification on instagram. It was a DM, you ignored it thinking it was just some creepy dude asking for nudes again.

When you got back to your apartment and sat down, that’s when you saw who the DM was really from. Kylian Mbappé himself, you were in shock. You sat there on your couch for about 5 minutes before answering it.

~~~~

~~~~

The rest of the day had gone by, it’s about 10pm and you just got out the shower. You check your phone and see a text from a random number. You ignore it and do you quick skin care routine. By the time you’re in bed in 10:20 and you go back to the text message.

~~~~

~~~~

With that you put your phone away and laid down. You smile to yourself and think about what’s happened the past couple of hours. You then drift off to sleep thinking about what will happen when you competition comes.

The week went by in a blur, you and Kylian texted almost everyday. Just getting to know each other better. Well it’s Saturday the day of your competition. It wasn’t until like 9:30pm, Kylian said it worked great for him since they had an early training today.

You got there about 8:50 and started getting ready, you got into your outfit. It was a black one. It was one of your favorites to wear once in a while. You then get your skates on. “Okay time to stretch.” My coach, James said. You nod you head and walk out into the hallway while James instructs your stretch’s, and which stretches to do.

“You’re gonna kill it today.” James said trying to get you into that mindset. “Don’t I every time.” You joke with him while stretching your legs. “You’re not wrong, but still, you’re gonna do great, we’ve practiced all week.” He said.

After about 25 minutes of stretching you hear them call the first girl to go. Your song you picked was Wash. by Bon Iver. It was a perfect song to do your routine to.

About fifteen minutes passed and 4 more girls had gone and you were next. You stand and wait, they then call your name and James pats your back. You skate out onto the middle of the ice. You stand in the middle of the rink and take a deep breath waiting for the song to play.

When you hear of start you start your routine. Your routine was about 3 minutes long. As you skate and do your routine you block out all the noise from the crowd; you just pretend you’re at practice doing your routine.

As you hear your song end you stop to skate and hear the cheers of the crowd. You then make your way off the rink and over to James. “Amazing job! You did so good.” He said pulling you into a hug. “Couldn’t do it without you James, you help me a lot in my career.” You said hugging him back.

2 more girls went and there’s about a 10 minute break were you and the 7 girls wait and watch them set up the podium. They then announced that the top 3 winners will be announced. You always got nervous when it was time to see the top 3 winners. In third was Vanessa Willams, in second was Britney Edwards, then they get ready to announce who’s in first.

“In first place, with 12 gold medals, 2 championships, is the queen of figure skating y/n!” They announced. You smile and skate onto the ice accepting your medal and stepping onto the top step.

They get ready to take a picture and you invite the other two girls onto the top step for the picture.

You then make your way back to the locker room and change into your outfit you came in. Which was just sweatpants and a shirt. You pack your outfit and skates away and leave the locker room congratulating the other girls. As you leave and start to walk out the stadium you hear your name called a turn around.

“Congratulations.” Kylian said when you turn around, he holds out a bouquet of flowers for you. “Thank you.” You said accepting the flowers. “You did really great, I loved your umm.” He stumbled on his words. “Routine.” You finished for him. “Yes that, you did great on your routine.” He smiled softly.

“So would you want me to show you around…I know a good ice cream place around here?” You said. “Don’t think Ancelotti would like me having ice cream but one won’t hurt.” He said. “It’s okay I won’t tell.” You laugh.

You then made your way to his car as James drove you here, and you told james you had a ride home. You then give Kylian directions to the ice cream shop…

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

Taglist: @kymb-10

A/N ~ comment to be added to taglist! Also thanks to Maha my babe for helping me with this can’t thank her enough🩷

[canirove]

The invinsible princess | Chapter 5

“How I met the royal family”

Chapter 4 | Chapter 6

Masterlist

“What if we tell them that I wasn't feeling well and had to go back to my hotel?”

“What?”

“Yeah… That I got dizzy or something.”

“Pedri, they just saw you play for eighty minutes, pose with your man of the match award, and give a bunch of interviews.”

“Exactly!” he says. “We can tell them that I was exhausted after all that and that we can meet tomorrow. Or next time I'm playing in Madrid. Or…”

“Or nothing. You are officially meeting my parents tonight, end of the story.”

“C'mon, Sofía…” he pouts.

“No. The sooner we do it, the better.”

“Please…”

“Pedri, I said no. And stop pouting.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“Umm….no.”

“Urgh” I groan, rolling my eyes.

“I was just teasing you, my lady” he says, moving as close to me as his seatbelt allows him to. “But it was my lips made to kiss and to be kissed, wasn't it?” he smirks, lowering down his voice. “You can't control yourself when I pout because they look even more kissable, and we have company” he says, nodding towards Carlos, who is driving us to the palace.

“He's seen us kiss many times before.”

“He has. But with these kisses you would probably end up getting carried away” he says, one of his hands touching my thigh and slowly moving up. “You always end up getting carried away” he whispers against my neck, the feeling making me shudder.

“Pedri, turning me on isn't going to save you from meeting my parents” I manage to say, his hand now dangerously up on my thigh, making me regret wearing a dress.

“Isn't it?” he says, kissing my neck on the spot that by now he knows drives me completely crazy.

“Fuck” I gasp.

“Everything ok, ma'am?” Carlos says, giving us a quick look through the rearview mirror. 

“Yes, perfect” I say. “We were just wondering how long until we make it to the palace.”

“Around fifteen minutes, ma'am. The traffic is kind of bad.”

“I can make you cum in fifteen minutes” Pedri whispers so low I can barely hear him myself. 

“You won't dare” I say, slapping his hand when he manages to touch me between my legs.

“Ouch!” he laughs. “But if this car had one of those things that separates us from the driver, I definitely would” he smirks.

“Thought you didn't like doing that in the car.”

“And I don't. But this…” he says, moving his fingers in a way I'm very familiar with. “This I can do it anywhere.”

“You are the worst, Pedro González.”

“Yet you love me, my lady” he smirks. “So, should we ask Carlos to take us back to my hotel?”

“Nice try, but no. You are meeting my parents tonight” I say, giving him my best smile.

“Urgh” he replies, moving away from me. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“I think they are getting along quite well” my mum says.

“They are, yes” I smile while watching Pedri laughing with my dad. And they are not laughing together to look good and please me, no. This is a real laugh, an honest one. Their body language is giving it away. 

At first both of them had been a bit stiff, making the beginning of our dinner kind of awkward. And the fact that my mum had started asking Pedri many questions about his life, sounding like her old journalist self, hadn't helped either. But then my dad had remembered a cute anecdote from when I was a kid that I myself didn't, and that somehow had broken the ice to the point that now both he and Pedri were laughing together as if they had known each other their whole lives… And maybe because they were a bit tipsy too.

“I can't remember the last time I told this anecdote” my dad chuckles. “Do you?” he asks my mum.

“I… Ummm…” she mumbles, taking a sip from her wine to avoid answering. 

“I do” I say.

“You do?” my mum asks me, raising an eyebrow.

“It was the night I met Pedri” I smile, looking at him. Because the anecdote my dad had just told him and that he had liked so much (maybe because he had actually found it funny, maybe because of the alcohol in his system), was the same one he had started to tell his friends when Pedri had walked towards me and gestured me to follow him outside the room where everyone was celebrating that Spain had won the Euros.

“Aww, what a lovely coincidence!” my mum says.

“It is, yes” I say, still smiling at Pedri like an idiot.

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait” my dad says. “The night? I thought you had met when the team came to visit us here at the palace.”

“Oh, I… Umm…” I mumble, now being the one who takes a sip from her drink to try and avoid answering.

“Who cares about the exact moment they met?” my mum says. “What matters here is that they love each other and are very happy together” she smiles, reaching for my hand and giving it a little squeeze.

“You are right. We should toast to that!” my dad says. “But we've run out of wine… Let me call for another bottle.”

“Haven't you had enough already? You aren't twenty anymore, darling” my mum tells him with a teasing smile. “And we can't get Pedri drunk. He's a professional athlete!”

“Oh, this is nothing compared to what others drink, mum. Trust me” I chuckle.

“Especially when celebrating winning a title” Pedri adds.

“Should I ask for that bottle, then?” my dad asks. “If you get drunk you can always spend the night here, there are enough rooms. In fact, I think you should. We could call my mum and ask her to come over for breakfast tomorrow so you can meet her too. Wouldn't that be nice?”

“It would. But are you sure you want to have breakfast with your mother while hangover?” my mum asks him, still teasing him.

“Nothing she hasn't seen before” he shrugs. 

“That's not what I meant and you know it.”

“Whatever. What do you say, guys? Are you in?”

“Are we?” I ask Pedri.

“Yeah, why not?” he says. “Your grandma and I are supposed to become bffs, aren't we?”

“What?” my dad asks with a confused look.

“Inside joke” I chuckle. “But we are staying and saying yes to that breakfast in one condition.”

“Ok” my dad says.

“Can we please sleep in the same room? I'm not a kid anymore, dad.”

“Oh, trust me, I know. I know...” he says, drinking from his glass but finding it empty. 

“Is that a yes?” I ask him.

“I guess it is” he sighs. “I'm gonna go find that wine.”

“And I'm gonna go to the bathroom” my mum says, excusing herself and leaving me and Pedri alone.

“See how you didn't have to worry about anything?” I tell him, moving my chair closer to his.

“Your parents are really nice, yes.”

“And my mum isn't that scary, is she? Maybe at first she looks like it, but once you get to know her…”

“Yeah” he smiles. “But is what you said earlier true? That your dad was telling that anecdote when we met?”

“Yep.”

“It is a funny anecdote. I don't know why you looked so miserable.”

“Maybe because I had already heard it a hundred times before, I knew by heart, and had had to hear similar ones from his friends for like an hour?”

“That can make someone miserable, yes” he laughs. “Though I guess I have to thank them, because if it hadn't been for them and their anecdotes, I wouldn't be here tonight” Pedri says, leaning forward and closer to me.

“Meeting your in-laws, also known as the King and Queen of Spain?” I say, also moving forward.

“That, or meeting the parents of the woman I love more than anything. The woman I've had a crush on since I was a teenage boy and who to me never was invisible like she believes herself to be.”

“I actually believe it a bit less every day. And do you know why?” I say, our noses almost touching.

“No” he whispers.

“Because of you, Pedri. It's all because of you. I love you.”

“I love you too, Sofía.”

“Ehem” someone says behind us, stopping our kiss the moment our lips touch. “I got the wine.”

“Oh, dad. You're back.”

“I am.”

“Cool, great. Umm… Do you need help opening the bottle?”

“I'll do it myself” he says, giving us one last look before focusing on his wine.

“You know, maybe I was wrong and he is the scary one” Pedri whispers.

“Maybe” I laugh. “We'll finish that kiss later when we are alone in my room.”

“If he allows it. I think he is regretting agreeing to it.”

“My mum will convince him, don't worry. And Pedri…”

“Yeah?” he says, his eyes focused on my dad and how he is struggling with the bottle.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, my lady” he smiles, turning to look at me and giving me a quick peck just as my dad finally pops the wine open, making my mum scream since she was just coming back into the room. 

And there, as I rest my head on Pedri's shoulder and he interlaces his fingers with mine, and as we watch my dad pouring some wine while my mum scolds him for almost giving her a heart attack, also telling him to be careful and not spill any on the carpet while he just rolls his eyes, I finally feel that something I had missed quite often growing up. That feeling of union, of togetherness. That feeling of family.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

A few months later...

“Do they always have to do this?” Pedri asks.

“Every summer, yes. It's like a family tradition that has been done for generations to officially kick off the summer holidays, and also a way to give something to the press so they would leave them alone” Irene says.

“And it is just them? You don't join them?”

“No, we don't. This is just for the king and their family.”

“So… if one day I… You know” Pedri says, his eyes still focused on Sofía and her family, on all the photographers surrounding them while they smile and pose for the cameras.

“You will be part of it once you marry Sofía. And as long as Leonor hasn't become queen yet, of course.” 

“What?”

“That photoshoot is for the king or queen and their family, not their siblings. So if you marry Sofía and Leonor still isn't queen, you'll have to be part of that photo. Same with whoever she marries. Once she becomes queen, it'll be just her partner and their children if they have them” Irene explains.

“So that's why your mum and your aunt aren't part of it?”

“Exactly. They were while my grandad was king, but once he abdicated, bye bye.”

“Your grandma is posing with them, tho.”

“That's because she's the dowager queen.”

“Grandad isn't dead yet, Irene” her brother Pablo laughs while joining her and Pedri at the window from where they are watching what is happening in front of the palace.

“Exiled, dead… Kind of the same” she shrugs. “But they let grandma be part of this because she deserves the love after having to deal with him, and because it is her 80th birthday next week.”

“She told me she wants to have her first dance at her party with you, Pedri” Pablo smirks.

“What?” he says.

“Oh, I heard that too” Irene giggles. “But don't worry. If you don't know how to dance, Sofía will teach you.”

“Sofía? The one who was born with two left feet?” Pablo laughs. 

“She isn't that bad of a dancer, don't listen to him” Irene says. “But you better get ready, Pedri. Because grandma loves dancing at family gatherings, and she's smitten with you” she smirks.

“Indeed” Pablo replies with a matching smile.

“Yeah, well, ummm…” Pedri mumbles. “The photoshoot is over. We should probably move from the window before someone sees us.”

“Oh, finally! I'm famished!” Pablo says as they walk away.

“You are always hungry, Pablo” his sister says.

“Because I am a professional handball player. People like me and Pedri need our energy, don't we?” he says, putting his arm around his shoulders.

“Yeah” he chuckles.

“What you are, is a professional glutton” Irene says with a teasing smile.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said what I said.”

“Oh you little…”

“Pablo!” she laughs as she starts running down the stairs, her brother going after her while Pedri laughs behind them.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Looking hot, Mr. González. White suits you” I smirk while watching Pedri button up his shirt.

“Don't, Sofía.”

“Don't what?” I say, walking towards him.

“Don't tease me like that.”

“How?” 

“By telling me that I look good in white. I know what you truly mean” he says.

“I mean just what I said” I shrug. “And leave this one unbuttoned too” I say, stopping his hands.

“Sofía, we are attending your grandma's birthday party, remember?”

“Yes, and?”

“And…” he says, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me closer towards him while I wrap my arms around his neck. “I must look good and presentable, not as if I'm going out to a club in Mykonos. This is my first proper holiday with the whole family.”

“But that's the vibe of the party. Greece, the Mediterranean, white clothes, hot people...”

“I don't think your grandma had that last thing in mind when she chose the theme for the party” he chuckles. “Though you also look really hot, my lady.”

“Do I?” I ask him.

“So hot I don't know if I'm gonna be able to keep my hands to myself.”

“Pedri!” I laugh, when he moves both his hands to my butt and squeezes it. 

“Told you” he shrugs. 

“You rascal” I say before kissing him. Which probably is a mistake, because now I also am not able to keep my hands to myself, and as usual, I am getting carried away. We both are, to be honest. “Pedri…” I whisper as he starts kissing my neck.

“Yes?” he says against my skin, one of his hands already moving under my dress.

“We are gonna be late.”

“We won't” he says, walking us towards one of the windows in our room until my back is against it. “I think we actually have time for a quickie.”

“What?” I laugh.

“You are already ready” he smirks, his fingers moving under my underwear.

“I’m… I… We can't do it here.”

“Why not? We are in our room” he says as he goes back to kissing my neck, his fingers already torturing me. 

“Yes, but I… I'm against a window” I manage to say. “What if someone sees us?”

“Sofía, this room looks at the back of the palace and there are security guards everywhere. No one will see us.”

“They could see us.”

“But they won't say anything. It's part of their job.”

“Yes, but… Fuck” I moan. 

“Are you sure you don't want to do this? That you want me to stop?” 

“Ok, fine. But try not to ruin my hair too much.”

“What?” Pedri chuckles before letting go of me to get a condom from his toilet bag.

“It took me ages to do it like this, I have to pose in front of the press before the party, and you are about to fuck me against a window.”

“If the lady is so worried about her hair, I can always fuck her on the table. Or on the bed while she is on all fours. Or…”

“I like the window idea better. It is more… exciting.” 

“Oh, so now we aren't worried about the guards seeing us, uh?” he smirks.

“Whatever. But I want to have you closer” I say once he is ready and back with me, his hands quickly moving under my dress to get rid of my underwear. “I want to have you as close as it is humanly possible.”

“Like this?”

“More” I whisper, wrapping my arms around his neck while he moves me until he is completely inside me, the feeling making us both gasp. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“There you are!” my grandma says. “Where were you? Your parents and Leonor are already outside waiting for us.”

“I'm sorry, grandma. We…”

“Sofía was struggling with her hair, and convincing her to let me help her took its time” Pedri says. 

“I see… Did you also struggle with your makeup?”

“What?” I say.

“You look quite flushed, darling” my grandma chuckles.

“Oh, no. That's from doing my hair and getting mad. You know me” I say with a nervous laugh. 

“Does Pedri also get mad with such things?” she asks, arching an eyebrow.

“Pedri?” 

“He also looks quite flushed. Look at the colour of his cheeks.”

“My cheeks?” he says, touching his face.

“That's because we had a little argument because we were going to be late, nothing else” I quickly say.

“I hope everything is good now” my grandma says.

“Peachy” I smile. “Should we get going?”

“Yes, of course. But Pedri, darling. While we are outside, can you please go check on my grandchildren and make sure they don't start eating without us?”

“You mean Pablo” he says.

“Exactly” my grandma chuckles.

“I will, don't worry” he says, giving her his best smile.

“I hope it was good” she says once Pedri is gone.

“What?” 

“What you and Pedri were doing.”

“I don't know, you tell me. Does my hair look good?”

“Oh, Sofía” she laughs.

“What?” I ask again.

“I know you weren't arguing because of your hair, darling. You were doing… other things” she smirks. “And I don't blame you. He looks extremely handsome tonight.”

“We… ummm…”

“But c'mon, let's join the others before your mother gets angry with us” she says, linking her arm with mine. “Besides, we have to take advantage of that glow you have right now. Not many are lucky enough to get it” she winks, leaving me even more speechless and flushed than I already was.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“C'mon, Sofía.”

“We can't, Pedri. It's too risky.”

“We'll ask Carlos to come with us. Please” Pedri pouts.

“Go with you where?”

“Bloody hell, grandma!”

“Language, Sofía” she says. “And where do you want to take her, darling?” she asks Pedri.

When I joked about them becoming bffs, I didn't expect it to actually happen. Like, we've been in Mallorca for a week, and they already are as thick as thieves. She even calls him darling, which is something she only uses with her grandchildren.

“I was told there is a verbena* going on in a town nearby and I want to go, but she says it is too risky” Pedri explains.

“Why risky?”

“Because anyone could recognise us, grandma.”

“I already told her that no one will be paying attention to us, that they will be too busy dancing and drinking. And that if someone comes closer or something, Carlos will intervene. But she still thinks it is a bad idea.”

“If no one were to recognize you, would you like to go?” my grandma asks me.

“Of course I would! I've never had the chance to go to something like that” I say.

“Then come with me” she says, Pedri and I looking at each other with a confused look before following her.

*A verbena is like a party that usually happens on Spanish small towns at night during the town's summer festivities, and where there is live music and like a bar where you can get something to drink (basically alcohol).

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Those are… wigs?” 

“Indeed, darling” my grandma says, taking one and brushing the hair. 

“Why do you have a closet full of wigs?”

“Because sometimes I want to go out unnoticed, and these are perfect for it.”

“What?”

“Oh, don't look at me like that, Sofía” she laughs. “I haven't done it in years, but your mother has used them more than once, especially while dating your father. And they clearly worked, because no one knew about them until their engagement was announced, which I guess it is what you also want. Privacy.”

“We do, yes” I say, looking at Pedri. Though he doesn't seem to be paying too much attention. He's focused looking at one of the wigs, one of ginger hair. “Pedri?”

“Yes?” 

“We do want to keep our relationship private for the longer the better, don't we?”

“Yes” he says, still looking at the wig. “Can you try this one on, please?”

“What?”

“I think you would look smoking hot as a ginger. Sorry” he says, giving my grandma a shy smile.

“Oh, no need to apologize” she chuckles. “I actually agree with you. Come here, Sofía.”

“What?” I say again.

“Come, let's see if we are right” my grandma says.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“We were right. You look smoking hot as a redhead, my lady.”

“Oh, shut up” I say, giving Pedri a little push.

They did it. He and my grandma convinced me to try on the wig, said it looked perfect on me, and now here I am, at the verbena he wanted to go, Carlos keeping an eye on us from a distance.

“C'mon, let's go dance” he says, taking my hand on his and leading me towards where everyone else is.

“Pedri, you already know I wasn't made for this. I almost injured you while teaching you how to dance for my grandma's party.”

“Yet I survived, didn't I?” he says, making me twirl before he wraps one arm around my waist, the hand from the other holding mine.

“I guess, yes. But do you know how to dance… this?” I ask him.

The band on the little town square where we are is playing a traditional Spanish song, a pasodoble, one that I did not get taught as a kid when my mum made Leonor and I take some dancing classes before quickly realising that neither of us were born for it.

“I don't, no. But we can learn how to. Excuse, ma'am” he says with his best smile to a woman dancing next to us. “My girlfriend and I are a bit lost, we don't know how to dance a pasodoble. Could you show us how it's done?”

“Oh, of course!” she smiles back. How does he do it to charm every single woman he encounters and that could be his mother or grandmother? “It's very simple. One, two, three forward. One, two, three back. And turn” she says, her and her partner showing us and making it look easy.

“Ok, I think I got it. Sofía?”

“Uh?”

“Are you ready?”

“I…”

“I'm leading, ok? So you go back” Pedri says. 

“Ok” I nod, ready to step on his toe, or bump into the people around us, or…

“That's it! You got it!” the woman says.

“We… did it?”

“You did it, my girl!” she smiles.

“Wow” I laugh.

“Thank you very much for teaching us, ma'am” Pedri says.

“My pleasure” she replies before going back to dancing with her partner.

“Ready to go again?” Pedri asks me.

“Ready” I say, taking a deep breath and focusing on the steps.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“I knew you weren't born with two left feet, my lady. You just needed the perfect partner” Pedri says as we wait to get ourselves a drink.

“And you are that perfect partner, aren't you?” I ask him with a teasing smile.

“Duh” he replies.

“So humble” I chuckle. “What… what are they doing?” I ask him, pointing at one of the bartenders.

“They are making kalimotxo.”

“What?”

“Sofía… Sofía, please tell me you know what kalimotxo is.”

“A drink?”

“A… Sofía!” he gasps, his eyes wide. “I get you haven't grown up in the same environment most people have, but are you seriously telling me that as a teen, none of your friends drank kalimotxo?”

“Some of them may have, I know they used to meet to drink in a park or something. But I never joined them, I wasn't interested” I shrug.

“Wow. Just wow” he chuckles. 

“Sorry” I shrug again.

“You don't need to apologize for not being interested on that, Sofía. To each their own, there is nothing wrong about it. It's just that I thought this was something everyone knew everywhere in Spain, royal or not. Do you want to try it?”

“What?”

“Should we order some kalimotxo, my lady?” he says. “It is Coca Cola mixed with wine, though they use more wine than anything. And you like that, so…”

“But I can't drink one of those huge glasses, Pedri. If I do, you'll have to carry me home.”

“Ok” he chuckles. “Then we'll share one.”

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Here is your first kalimotxo, my lady” Pedri says, passing me the huge plastic glass. 

“Wow” I cough after smelling it. “Are you sure this is legal?”

“You said the same about Paco's chips and now you love them” he smirks. “C'mon, drink.”

“Ok” I sigh before taking a sip. “Bloody hell!”

“That doesn't taste like the nice wine you have in the palace, does it?” he laughs.

“It does not, no. Holy shit.”

“It'll probably taste better after a few sips.”

“Or not.”

“Or not” Pedri laughs. “And look, the bingo is about to start!”

“What?”

“Sofía, please tell me you do know what the bingo is.”

“I do, don't worry. My granddad's sisters love playing it, and if my cousins and I are around, we actually end up joining them and being quite competitive about it.”

“Royals fighting over bingo?” he laughs.

“Yeah” I shrug. 

“Should we get ourselves some tickets and join everyone else, then?”

“Let's go” I smile.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Sofía… Sofía!”

“Shhh!” I giggle after hitting him with the ugly teddy I won on the bingo. “You are gonna wake them up.”

“Then stop hitting me with that thing!” Pedri whispers. “What is it, by the way? A mouse? A bear? A cat?”

“I don't… fuck!” I say when I trip with the stairs.

“Maybe, after all, you actually were born with two left feet” he laughs.

“Idiot” I say, sticking out my tongue. “Come help me get up.”

“Can't the lady do it herself?” he says with a teasing smile.

“Any other day, she could, yes. But the lady is a bit tipsy and needs help from her handsome boyfriend.”

“A bit tipsy, she says” Pedri snorts. “You are drunk, Sofía.”

“And so are you, Pedro.”

“I'm not” he says, crossing his arms over his chest but somehow losing his balance and ending up on the floor next to me.

“Were saying?” I ask him, arching an eyebrow.

“Whatever” he replies, lying down on the steps and snatching the weird stuffed animal from my hands, using it as a pillow. “Can we spend the night here? It isn't that bad.”

“It isn't, is it? Quite cosy” I say as I lay down next to him, resting my head on his chest.

“Uhm” he replies, running a hand through my hair. Because I'm not wearing the wig anymore. I think it is on the car, that I took it off when we started making out.

“What will we tell my family when they wake up and find us here?”

“That's a tomorrow problem, Sofía” he yawns. 

“Pedri…”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for tonight. I loved it.”

“You're welcome” he smiles. I can't see his face, but I can hear it in his voice. His very sleepy voice. “I love you, Sofía.”

“I love you too” I reply before curling up my body against his and closing my eyes.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Sofía!”

“Holy mother of Jesus!” I say, standing up so fast that everything around me is spinning. 

“What is this, Sofía?”

“What?”

“You scared us all when one of the security guards told us you were sleeping on the stairs. We thought something had happened to you!”

“Mum, can you… can you lower down your voice, please?”

“I beg your pardon?” she says.

“What time is it?” Pedri yawns next to me.

“Too early” I say, laying down again. 

“Sofía!”

“Yes?”

“Are you drunk?”

“I'm… I was. Now I think I'm hungover.”

“Why are you yelling so early in the morning?” my grandma says somewhere.

“Your granddaughter and her boyfriend are drunk!”

“Hungover” I correct her.

“And is that a reason to start yelling as if the house was on fire?” my grandma says.

“Of course it is! They are sleeping on the stairs!”

“I've slept in worse places in my youth” my grandma chuckles.

“Are you defending them?” my mum gasps.

“I'm just saying that they are young, in love and on holidays. Let them enjoy themselves!”

“But… But…”

“C'mon, darlings” my grandma says, waking us up more gently than my mum. “You better go to your bed if you don't want to add back pain to what you will definitely be feeling in a few hours.”

“Ok” I say, barely opening my eyes as she guides us towards our room.

“Are we in trouble?” Pedri asks her.

“You aren't, don't worry. I'll deal with her and my son” my grandma says.

“Thank you, grandma” I say, letting myself fall on the bed once we make it there, Pedri doing the same with a loud groan. “For this and for last night.”

“You had fun, didn't you?” she chuckles.

“Yeah… Though I'm not drinking kalimotxo ever again. Do you hear me, Pedri?” But his only reply is a snore. 

“We’ll take that as a yes” my grandma smiles. “Sweet dreams, darling” she says before kissing my forehead, something she hadn't done since I was a little girl.

“Thank you, grandma. I love you” I smile, my eyes already closed.

“I love you too, Sofía” she replies, her words probably being the last nice thing I feel before experiencing the worst 24 hours of my life once I wake up again.

Like I said, I'm not drinking kalimotxo ever again. Like, ever. 

[bryngmemoney]

✁FASHION FLIRT✃

Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

⭑story masterlist link

tw:none

Writing in between messages!!

🪡Chapter Fifteen: 8-ball

“You have to show me him!” Yuki exclaimed as you adjusted her outfit, making sure everything fit well. “Well, I could show you a picture, but he’s gonna come in right after you, so you could stay a minute extra.”

You two were referring to Megumi, as Yuki had always been one interested in starting conversation on people’s types. You were no exception. She told you that the reason she did it revealed a lot about the person without them knowing, you could see what she meant to an extent but really only she knew what she was talking about.

“Ooo, like how soon after me?” You looked at the time displayed on your phone, seeing the lock screen show the song you were quietly playing in the background for you and Yuki, as you guys were the only ones around. The numbers at the top read the time 5:50. “Like in ten minutes maybe, he said he’d be here around six.”

You backed up, asking Yuki to spin for you, seeing that everything seemed to fit well. “Does anything feel off?” “No, it’s perfect actually!”

“Great! Well that’s really all, you can go and change again, are you staying for a few?”

“Well I am curious, i’ll stick around with you for a bit.”

6:20, and Megumi was no where to be seen. “Is he running late?” Yuki asked leaning her back against the table while she sat down, facing you who was standing up, peaking out the window of the studio room to see if there was any sign of anyone walking in.

“I don’t know, he hasn’t answered the text I sent him.”

“He usually shows up on time?”

“Most of the time, there was just once where he showed up late, but that’s because of something that was happening.” You turned back to Yuki, checking your phone just once again to see if there was any sign from him. “Like how late?” You placed your phone down, sighing before answering “40 minutes..”

“Oh, wow.”

“He made up for it though!” You defended, “He took me out to dinner, it wasn’t really a date because his friend was there too, but still!” Yuki just hummed seeming amused in your story.

“Okay, i’ll wait another 10 minutes max with you then, but if he still hasn’t responded or shown up, we’re leaving.” You yawned in response, not feeling tired because it was late, but instead because this week had really exhausted you with class work. “Can’t we make it 15?”

“Listen, he’s already done something like this before, and you’re tired, just tell him not to show up and talk it out later, but if I was you i’d go and take the fattest nap ever first.”

Megumi sighed after finally finishing his project presentation for his Photo Seminar class. He really needed to try on this assignment, as his last one wasn’t the best. He didn’t fail, but he wasn’t anywhere near where he wanted or needed to be. Stressing over it he was glad to have finally finished his preparation, feeling a weight being lifted off him that is until he checked the time to be 6:38, then it was replaced with panic, remembering he had promised to meet you around six today. He looked for his phone, only to find it and see a text from you already saying you left 7 minutes ago.

Author’s Note: date with megumi officially planned🗣️‼️

tbh i think beer pong is my favorite imessage game

hope you guys enjoyed!

Taglist below, feel free to comment or dm me to be added!!

TAGLIST

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[fiber-optic-alligator]

(Not a request dw) (I definitely borrowed a little from what you wrote and slashed through earlier)

Knock Out brainrot time. >:3c

Just thinking of him occasionally taking his human Back to the train tracks where he caught them the first time to torment them further. Especially about how they failed to escape him the first time. Not that they Actually Had a Chance, but he's an arrogant asshole so he's gonna act like they did. And that they failed to utilize it correctly.

Maybe he pretends to give them another chance to properly flee, with the same rules/time limit as last time? 20 minutes, but after 5 he's going to begin his search for them. But this time? The human has something of a plan, even if it'll only delay the inevitable. They use the fog cover to sneakily dash about, and cover things in heir scent. They're trying to fool his nose so he has to try harder to find them in the fog.

Five minutes pass of him tracking their progress, and he begins to move. Taunting them about their plan to con a Con, and how it won't work. Of course he knew what they were doing, and it's a decent plan outside of the fact that he can See them trying to put it into action. But, oh well, better luck next time, morsel.

At the ten minute mark, however, he loses sight of them. And with minimal sign of them beyond the smell of terror they leave behind, he begins to grow a little antsy. Not worried, no, he's going to catch them, and It Will Be Easy. They just... hadn't been much of a challenge before. This is certainly proving to be an interesting round of Hide and Shriek.

It's a little past the fifteen minute mark that he catches a definitive trace of them. "Ah, There they are." He laughs lowly, and stomps closer to the boxcar they'd stashed themselves away in. Now that he's locked onto where they've hidden, he decides to walk a little further away from them. To make them think he's still oblivious to their hiding spot. A minute passes. Two, three. Little footsteps pad through the door to the next boxcar.

At nineteen minutes, Knock Out decides to stop playing with his food. He saunters over to their new hiding spot, and tears the door open. Leaning the whole boxcar at an angle with a servo, so His human is forced to skid over to the far side and look up at him. "You know, this game of Cyber cat and Glitch mouse was certainly thrilling, but all good things must come to an end eventually. Now, sit still for me won't you? We have things to do once we get back to the Nemesis."

He reaches in with his right servo to daintily pluck them from their rusty tomb, but stops short when something blunt smashes into one of his digits. He pulls his claws away from them to survey the damage, and notices rusty little scratches in one of them. He growls in displeasure before lunging to harshly pin His Plaything's arm to the wall, and wrenching away the offending weapon. An old crowbar sits pinched between two of his talons before he snaps it in two, and throws it away like a used tooth pick.

He regards his captive with a snarl, hating the effect their resistance has on him. The fact that they have the Audacity to attack him is in itself is infuriating, and he loathes losing his cool. Especially in regards to a fleshbag he's been ever So lenient with. He'll make them buff out the scratch later, but for now... "As much as I can respect your meager survival tactics, don't you think it's a little late to be trying this hard to escape?" He tries to maintain his self-assured tone to scare the human into thinking that their efforts to piss him off were Entirely in vain. But even they can detect the wrath bleeding into his tone like a drop of ink in water.

Knock Out lunges to pin his prize to the far wall with a servo again, making sure that the sharp ends of his claws graze their flesh lightly. "Has it Not sunken in yet human? You. Can't. Escape. From. Me. You only get as far as you do during our little games, because I let you. You didn't stand a chance In The Pits of escaping the second I laid my optics on you the first time, and you certainly don't have a shot now." He lifts them out of the boxcar, and drops it back onto the tracks, a crumpled heap of scrap metal. He ceases to keep his contempt for their petulance out of his voice now that he's got a proper grip on them.

"In case you haven't noticed, human? I am Faster than you. I am Stronger than you. And no matter how Far you run, I will Always find you. Remember that the next time you forget your place in this little arrangement of ours. Though, in case you Do need a reminder after all that?

You. Are. Mine.

His grip tightens while he speaks, and only loosens his grip again once he can he feel them gasp for air. He sighs, satisfied that he'd gotten his point across, and brings his little Snack down from optic level. "Once we get back to the Nemesis, you're getting a bath. And then, you're due for a night long tour of my tank. That's a fitting punishment for a squirmy little fleshy like you, I think. Oh, and you Will be buffing this scratch out of my hand, by the by. Don't think your panicked flailing fit with a piece of scrap metal slipped my mind, dear. I won't be as gentle with you the next time you lash out like that."

Anon. Holy shit. I literally have no words. This is absolutely incredible. I have nothing to add to this because it’s so damn GOOD!!! I don’t even have to write a part 2 anymore because this is that AMAZING!!!! God I am going to be rereading this at least twice a week SHAUZISKDJFNFJJFAAAAAAUGH!!!!!

I can only imagine afterwords when this is all over and you are within his tank. You have never seen Knockout that angry before. Though he makes an effort to intimidate you and show how terrifying he can be, he’s always been relatively gentle with you. Now, though? The memory of being slammed against the boxcar, how his claws grazed your skin, his snarls, the way he nearly squeezed the life out of you. And his words…

“You. Are. Mine.”

You curl up tighter and bury your head into your knees, shaking. You begin to quietly weep.

Meanwhile, Knockout is tinkering away with some stuff when he hears your soft sobs rising up from his middle. Pausing his activities and looking down, he listens to you cry and feels you tremble. A part of him feels smugly satisfied that you know your place now…but there’s another part of him that feels strangely…guilty. Your a small, fragile little thing. He could have seriously hurt you.

Heaving a low sigh, he clenches his tank muscles to squeeze you gently. “Settle down, little thing,” he murmurs. “I was harsh with you, I’ll admit. But you must understand that at moments, harshness is necessary. You need to know your place. You need to know you are mine.”

You don’t respond. He doesn’t expect you to. His comfort is not exactly the most comforting. He’s silent. He doesn’t feel as triumphant as he did earlier.

Even Decepticons can feel remorse sometimes.

[spidrgirl]

MILES MORALES X READER

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Masterlist: here ➼

Pairing: Miles Morales x sweet girlfriend ᥫ᭡

Synopsis: Part two of the headcanons I made of miles (1610) x his sweet girlfriend, but this includes snippets of before you two started dating!

Genre: fluff

Word count: 801

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crushing stage:

➳ you and miles would barely have any classes together. maybe one or two throughout the day, but those classes sleays felt too short for him. so, miles would change his route to class just to see you. the few seconds he would see your pretty face in the hallway was enough for him to get through the day. was enough for him to get that warm fluffy feeling in his stomach.

"oh, i dunno. i just dont wanna be in class right now" he'd shrug whenever you asked him why he took the long way to his classes.

but really, it was just an excuse to see you. just to feel your soft hands whenever he'd dab you up in the hallway.

➳ miles isn't the shy type when it comes to flirting. he hugs you longer than the others, holds your hand a bit longer than necessary when shaking it, and purposefully reaches for the same items you are just so he can feel your skin brush against his.

it's safe to say that this boy is touch starved.

➳ miles and you would probably be friends before he develops a crush on you. so he'd always deny any rumors of him liking you, saying you guys were 'just friends' even though he wanted to be everything but that.

"n-no. she's just a friend, nothing else" he'd stammer, even though he's clearly nervous about it.

➳ miles looks for your eyes during any group conversation. yes, there are about 5 other people in your friend group, but your voice is the only one he cares about hearing. your eyes the only ones he wants to look into.

he can't help but try to fight back a smile when you glance at him during these conversations, and even more so when you talk to him specifically.

➳ miles draws you in his sketchbook. but not only pictures of you where he thought you looked actually beautiful, but just quotes of funny things you said that might've stuck with him, or random notes of things you mentioned liking.

he'll never let you find it though, keeping it locked up in the top shelf of his closet. he'd die of embarrassment if you ever saw what was in it, afraid you'll think he's a weirdo of some sort.

talking stage:

➳ miles stays on the phone with you late at night. he loves hearing your pretty voice telling him what you did that day, and all the things you laughed about in third period.

➳ miles makes more of an effort to spend time with you. yes, you guys did frequently hang with eachother whenever the opportunity presented itself, but even then those hangouts were short because of whatever spidey-business he had going on that day or some general day to day distractions.

but once he realizes that whatever you guys having going on between you could be something serious, he starts making more plans with you. sometimes ditching spending time with ganke just to see you.

➳ your weekdays aren't what they used to be anymore once you and miles start talking. at first, you used to just get ready and then leave with your parental guardian as they drove you to school.

but after you guys start talking, you had to get ready for school an extra fifteen minutes early because miles wanted to walk with you to school. sometimes taking you to the local bodega to get your favorite snacks, or ordering your favorite coffee for you at the small coffee shop in the city.

➳ miles makes an effort to get to know your parents/family. your family absolutely adores him though, so he has no trouble getting in close with them. but he still gets nervous and worries about making a good impression.

"you think they'll like me?" he'll whisper to you, not trying to seem obvious about how nervous he's feeling.

you assure him that they will, which doesn't fully convince him until he starts to get to knos them. they laugh and smile with him, making jokes and jus generally treating him as if hes just part of the family.

➳ miles picks up the phone every. single. time. you call him. without fail, this boy is always looking to be there for you no matter how big or small your needs are. whether it be at seven in the morning, at eleven o'clock at night, he's going to pick up that phone.

"yes ma'am?" he'll answer, his voice laced with the tiniest hint of worry.

➳ miles morales passes the orange peel theory. no more needs to be said.

➳ miles is obsessed with the idea of asking you out. making you his girlfriend. he works everyday to give you the proposal he thinks you deserve. asking some of his female friends to help him learn to make bouquets of flowers that of course include your favorite color, asking some of your family some of the things you're interested in and adding them to the basket of things that he's made for you.

he's increasingly nervous when he asks you, he does it somewhere private so he isn't faced with public humiliation if you were to reject him.

but to his own amazement, you smile and tell him that yes you will infact be his girlfriend.

"really? i mean, you aren't just saying that?" he'll say slowly, wanting to make sure that this is real. that you were actually just as into him as he was into you.

dating stage:

➳ he calls you a variety of pet names. i personally think he'll stick with the basic ones, stuff like 'babe' or 'bae', or just shortened variations of your name.

but once you guys get more comfortable with eachother, he'll call you stuff like 'princess'. he finds stuff like 'mi amor' or anything starting with 'my/mi' corny, so he'll stray away from those.

➳ miles isnt afraid to let the world knows that he's your boyfriend. infact, he's extremely cocky with the fact that he managed to pull someone as goregous as you. he constantly brags to anyone who'll stand to listen about how he has the honor of being your boyfriend and how he's never met anyone like you before.

"my girlfriend is so pretty. i miss her so much man" he'll mutter, to which everyone around him will groan in annoyance because you're all he talks about.

➳ miles writes your name everywhere. your name is plastered over every homework assignment, every cover of every notebook, on the back of some abandoned building where he graffitied your initials together. it's written in sharpie on his wrist.

he wants to be reminded of you every second of the day, as youre his entire world.

➳ he'll take pictures of things that remind him of you. flowers that are your favorite color? *snap*, he's taken a picture of it. a rock thats shaped in the same shape of your birthmark? *snap*. a leaf that's the same color as your eyes? *snap*.

➳ miles has a harder time being away from you than whats considered normal. of course, its natural and completely okay to miss your partner when you are apart, but miles is so dramatic with it.

he'll groan in bed and look at pictures of you two together, wondering when he'll get to see you again. he'll replay voice messages that you sent him just so he can hear that voice he loves so much.

"oh my god i fucking miss her" he'll say to himself while throwing his phone aside so he can bury his face in his pillow, trying to forget about you.

➳ miles will gush about you to tia rio, blabbing about how pretty you are and all the things you said that made him smile. she'll just smile, grateful that her little boy has found someone that can make him as happy as she always wished he could be.

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#tags #milesmorales #milesmoralesupremacy #milesmoralesfluff #acrossthespiderverse !!

[wordsofelie]

Chapter 7

🌅Don’t you dare runaway (A Phoenix and Ashes Sequel)

Miya Osamu x f!reader

Summary: Miya Osamu thinks some things will never change— Atsumu will always be annoying; his Ma’s food will always be the best and you will always be his favourite sunrise.

Content Warnings: Timeskip Setting, Manga Spoilers, ex!Suna, Swearing, Alcohol Consumption, Mention of Sex Scenes (No Description)

Words count: 5.4k

chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4 - chapter 5 - chapter 6 - chapter 8

“How’s Tokyo?”

It’s only a few words, barely a full sentence. However, it took Osamu a whole fifteen minutes to write and almost a face-first collision with the glass door of Tokozu, his favourite kitchen knife store in Osaka. The man found the exercise harder than any literature essay he ever had to do in high school (and Osamu, despite being named after a famous novelist, was never fond of literature). But now, the message is sent and there’s no going back.

His meditation instructor as well as one red-haired hitter, told him he should stop overthinking, and for the last month, Osamu thinks he did a good job at calming his stormy mind. But it’s different now, you’ve been in Tokyo for three days (or what feels like six months, at least to him), and apart from the message to ask you if you arrived safely (which you did), Osamu hasn’t contacted you in 72h. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, but he just needs to give space. He told you how he feels, exposed his fragile heart to you, and now what you do with it is your decision and yours only.

Still, Osamu wants to act casual like before (and also shows that he cares), something he hasn’t been good at for the past months. You miss the old Osamu, the friend you could always rely on, the one who wouldn’t mind letting food burn on the stove if you needed him. Maybe it’s time for that man to come back.

Thus, this morning, as he strolls through the streets of Osaka, heading to the store, he sends you those few words.

“Good morning, Sir,” a forty-year-old something greets him when he enters. “May I help you with something?”

Osamu’s eyes wander all around the shelves before describing what he is looking for.

“There’s a couple of knives that could meet your requirements.” The man starts showing him various options when Osamu’s phone buzzes in his pocket.

It’s you.

The younger man excuses himself and runs towards the exit. He waits two or three rings before answering.

“Hey,” he says, clearing his throat.

“Osamu,” you tell his name, his heart skips a beat (or a thousand). “How are you? Is this a good time to call?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I was just in town to buy a new knife for the fish.”

“Oh, maybe I should call later then-”

“No!” He cuts you off, someone passing by is startled by his sudden outburst. He avoids their gaze, “It’s fine now. So… how have ya been?”

“I’m great,” you reply, and he can hear the excitement in your voice, “I love it here. The JVA offices are in that huge building in Omiya, and everyone is wearing suits and there’s even a bakery on the ground floor, so I usually take something there and go to the park. I can’t wait for the cherry blossoms to bloom, it’s gonna be beautiful. And I need to take you to the bakery, you’d love the cannelés.”

Osamu holds back his laughter at your French accent, cute, he thinks.

“There’s already a communication team,” you continue, “everyone is so kind and to be able to discuss my ideas with everyone is such a cool thing. Don’t get me wrong, I love working with the Jackals but…well, the guys aren’t the best at giving advice when it comes to their social media. Except for your brother, actually.”

“I’m glad,” Osamu says with a soft voice.

“And Kuroo is amazing to work with and he’s actually kinda funny sometimes, but he has that weird laugh-anyway, I think he likes my work… But that doesn’t mean he's going to keep me on after my trial period.”

Osamu is relieved, happy even, that you’re enjoying your life there, but when he is about to express it, the words get stuck in his throat and no sound leaves his lips.

There’s a silence following your story, and you’re the one who breaks it. “I’m coming back in two days.”

“And I’ll be there.”

“Also… in three weeks or something, the National Team is having their last public practice match before the Olympics and it’s in Osaka, are you going to install a stall at the gym?”

“Yeah, I will. Ya know how the guys will react if I don’t.”

You chuckle, probably picturing some very disappointed—and hungry— Atsumu, Bokuto and Hinata (and Meian, though he’d tried to keep a straight face since he has the role of captain to uphold). “Cool, then, I’ll be there.”

“That’s my line.”

You offer him a genuine laugh and a warm feeling spreads through his stomach, which stays even after the call ends.

Two more days. Osamu counts in his head.

He takes a deep breath and enters the shop for the second time, this time being careful with not banging his face into the glass door.

“Can’t ya just stop movin’, please?” Atsumu begs and a sound comes out of his throat, something between a sigh and a groan. 

But his demand doesn’t seem to reach his brother’s ears—even though he said “please”, ‘Samu, ya spoiled brat—as said brother continues to pace like a caged animal in their cramped living room.

“I’m goin’ now.” Osamu finally announces.

“Gosh,” The setter rolls his eyes, “her train arrives in two hours.”

“What if there’s traffic on the way?”

“Ya know what? Just leave, yer so damn annoyin’ right now.”

“Moron,” Osamu exclaims, slamming the door on its way out.

It’s too late for Atsumu to say more than just an offended, “Oi!” since his twin already left the apartment.

There’s no traffic on the way and Osamu is forced to wait for you—though it doesn’t matter how long he must wait; if he had to endure a lifetime of longing just to see you again, he would agree in a blink of an eye.

The only bad thing is that time passes very slowly, and it makes him think over and over again about what might happen.

And the conclusion he comes up with is that two paths are unfolding before him: whether the kiss you shared on the doorframe of your apartment is the last remnant of what could have been, or perhaps the first tender step toward something beautiful. Maybe in a few minutes, he’ll have to pretend nothing happened and go back to being friends or stop hiding his feelings and share them with the world.

When you emerge from the station, your blue scarf sticking out of your bag since the weather has warmed up delicately in the last five days, Osamu feels the rhythm of his heart quickening.

You greet each other, get back in the car, and he starts driving.

One second after the other, even though you’re there now, he keeps waiting.

The silence is heavy but somehow it doesn’t cloud his thoughts. Osamu could be analysing each single one of your moves (you scratch your nails, you keep looking at your phone even if you don’t receive any notification), your expressions (you didn’t meet his eyes when you arrived, your smile is tense), but he doesn’t because he has learned better than to attempt to assume how you feel; it only leads to chaos. The man has no control over this situation and whatever happens, he’ll accept it. Nothing matters more than yielding to your choices. Break his heart, move to Tokyo, sever ties forever (please don’t)—he’ll endure it all if it means your happiness.

“Thank you for coming.” You finally say gently.  

 “Sure.” He waits and after a moment of hesitation, adds, “Ya know… I’ve been waitin’ to see ya.”

There’s a pause, the kind that stretches just long enough to create a knot in his chest.

“You have?” You ask, your voice quiet, unsure.

“Yeah,” he admits, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. If you’re about to turn him down, at least, he needs to be honest one more time. “Been thinkin' about ya all day. All week, actually.”

He laughs, a bit too awkwardly, trying to play it off. “Can I say that? Don’t wanna make ya uncomfortable but I guess I’m just really bad at actin' casual, huh?”

Your soft chuckle makes his heart race all over again. “Not as bad as you think, Osamu. I’m happy if we can talk openly to each other without being afraid of what the other thinks. That’s what we used to do.” You clear your throat, “And actually, there’s something I need to tell you.”

There it is, he thinks, the opening he’s been waiting for. He decides to pull over to the side of the road since you almost made it to your place. He licks his lips nervously before turning to you, your eyes don’t meet his when you speak again.

“So… I’ve been thinking. I wanted to have that conversation with you later, not in the car like that, but like you said, it’s hard to act casual…Listen, Osamu.” You finally turn to your right, to him.

Osamu thought he could know how you’re feeling just by seeing the look on your face but right now he is unsure. It’s exciting to know there’s still so much to learn about you, but also threatening because he can’t anticipate your next words and it’s suffocating.

“You’re the kindest person I know, you’re funny and you’re reliable and there’s no one in this entire world, and please don’t tell Umi, with whom I feel so at ease. I’ve never really been into stuff like soulmates you know, even with Rin, I believed he was the love of my life, and it turned out I was wrong. But with you it’s different, it’s like the universe has led me to you. That fact will never change, whatever we … become.” Your voice falters, “But… I made so many sacrifices for Rin, and I don’t regret them, they made me who I am now, but I promised myself I would never do such things again… Yet, I was in my hotel room in Tokyo, finally finding my dream job and loving the team, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About how I wanted to be with you in Osaka, how I wanted to kiss you again… I feel so weak Osamu ‘cause I love you too. I do want us to be together but not like that. I can’t miss this opportunity. If I stay in Osaka, I will resent myself for not choosing my dream and if I leave for Tokyo, I know I’ll regret not being with you… But I have to make a choice.”

“Can’t ya have both? Me and Tokyo?”

You sigh before looking down at your lap. Osamu thinks he saw your eyes getting wet, “I wish I could, but you know how I feel about distance relationships.”

Of course, he knows; he was there when you suffered through the distance that separated you from your first love years ago and how it led to a heartbreak.

“What if I come with y-”

“Don’t even think about it, Osamu. I am not following my dream for you to give up yours.” Your voice is firm, but there’s a hint of pain behind your words. “I swear I thought about all the options because I know you’re right for me… but there’s nothing we can do about it.”

Osamu was convinced there were only two paths, one where you love him, one where you don’t. But what if there is a third option? What if you love him but fear getting hurt?

It’s not that she doesn’t like you, she’s just afraid, Umi told him. He recalls precisely the moment your best friend pronounced those words to him.

There’s hope. Osamu has to hold on to it.  

“Give me one month.”

“Huh?” Your brow furrows in confusion.

“I’ll find a solution, I’ll make it work, I promise.”

“Osamu,” you sigh again, this time it sounds desperate, perhaps frustrated, “this is not some sort of romantic movie, this is real life.”

“I know that, and I’ll find a real solution.”

“What if you don’t find the solution after that month? I know how heartbreaks feel like Osamu, this is only going to hurt you and-”

“Nothing can hurt me more than runnin’ away when I could have tried making it work.”

There’s something in your eyes that shines behind your closed face and clenched jaw.

The atmosphere changes in the car, maybe because of the night falling, or maybe because of something else.

“When we were first years, we weren’t in the same class, but at the sports festival, we were put on the same team for the relay.” You start recalling, the sudden shift in topic catches him off guard, but he lets you continue anyway.

“Umi wasn’t in my team, and I was already not motivated to run the race, especially in front of everyone but it got worse when I was put before you. Can you imagine me, giving the stick to Miya Osamu? You were popular, girls loved you, boys admired you, and I was no one. Sure, I could run fast but I didn’t care about winning that damn event. I guess… the only things I cared about were having Rin looking at me and not tripping in front of your fangirls. But on the day of the festivals, do you remember what you told me?”

He shakes his head. You were always better at remembering stuff.

“You said ‘Trust me, just do your thing and I’ll make it work’. I trusted you; I did what I had to do, and we won.”

You cover your face with your hands abruptly and grumble, “Fuck, I really thought I made up my mind but…” Then, you take a long inspiration before looking at him again. Your eyes pierce his soul, find him where he is the most vulnerable, but also the most in love, “If I trust you one more time… Can you promise you’ll not let me down?”

“I’d do anything for ya to give me a chance.”

He says your name as he promises. There’s something obvious in your eyes when you look at each other, it’s not just hope that Osamu feels, it’s certain and deep. As if nothing could come between you.

You break the distance.

The kiss is softer than the last one. Osamu tries to take his time to appreciate the taste of your lips and the feeling your tongue leaves on his.

No need to rush, he knows it’s the first kiss of a long series (whether it lasts a month or a hundred years).

You pull back with a smile, “Oh, by the way, I have not forgotten that you owe me an explanation for all the times you ignore me. And you better hear what I have to say to you on that matter because you sure hurt me. It might take hours for me to tell you how bad you made me feel.”

“And I’d listen for hours.”

“You’re such a smooth talker.” You chuckle and open the passenger door, “Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow ‘Samu.”

“Huh?” He raises an eyebrow, “That’s what my brother calls me, can’t ya find something else like my lov-”

“Shut up you idiot, I’m not ready for that yet.”

“Whatever you want, I’ll submit.” He teases and his grin is both sincere and charming, it makes you lift your eyes in the air.

You laugh one more time before getting out, “sweet dreams.”

He bids you goodnight in return.

Things go well.

You try to see each other often. Now that Osamu has his Sundays free, he makes the most of them to take you on dates. In the evening, you cook dinner at home and in the morning, you stop by Onigiri Miya to get the bento he prepared for you. You always thank him with a kiss on the lips, a caress on the cheeks and sometimes the make out session gets a little bit out of hand. One day, despite your complaints about how you might get caught, Osamu doesn’t stop until Sato and Nagisa enter the shop (“Oops, didn’t mean to interrupt”, one of them say and Osamu tells you later how they kept on teasing him all day long. “It’s only yer fault though”, he exclaims, “yer too pretty.” And you push him on the chest, your cheeks turning red and your smile wide.)

You receive an email from Kuroo one Tuesday night, with a contract attached to it, waiting to be filled with your signature.

It’s hard to hide your smile, “I got the job.”

Osamu jumps from his chair to yours and kisses you, “I expected no less from my Champion.”

You open your mouth to say something and your boyfriend notices how your bite your lips. The long-distance relationship is starting now, that’s probably what you’re about to say, but Osamu doesn’t want to lose this moment thinking about what’s coming after, so he goes through your kitchen’s cupboards and gets a bottle of sake.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“We have somethin’ to celebrate, don’t we?” His boyish smile makes your heart melt, and you nod.

“Let’s go to Tokyo tomorrow to look for an apartment.” He proposes later.

Your brows knit together, “but your restaurant…”

“I can close it.”

Osamu looks at you with the determined eyes you thought he had lost. It’s confident and calm at the same time, it’s kind, and so particularly him. It’s the same look he had when you won the relay a decade ago, when he told you he got your back during your heartbreak, and when he swore he’d do anything to be with you.

This time, you're the one who kisses him, and you taste of sake. His hands find the skin of your lower back and the man wonders how he could have missed out on something so soft all these years. Maybe it’s the alcohol but his mind becomes intoxicated, still, it feels good, and the next second he lifts you to lead you to the bedroom.

The next morning, your head hurts—and so do your muscles—but Osamu makes sure to cover every inch of your body with kisses as an apology (to which you don’t complain).

Finding an apartment in Tokyo is a drag at first. Between the too high-priced single-rooms and the over-demanding landlords, your energy is drained at the end of the day.

“I’ll never be able to find something…” You whine.

“Hey,” Osamu flicks your forehead lightly, “don’t say that it’s only the first day. Let’s find an hotel for tonight and we'll continue tomorrow.”

“What about Onigiri Miya?”

“Sato and Nagisa can manage.”

“Thank you, Osamu, you’re the best. Oh, what’s Sato’s first name by the way?”

“I forgot,” Osamu gets up from the bench where you were both sat and starts walking. You don’t ask for more.

Eventually, Osamu gets back to Osaka the next day because “Osamu-san, we’re running out of spicy sauce, what’s the recipe again? I tried something but it tastes like-”, “Like shit.”, “Oi! Rin don’t say that.” And even though he loves helping you, he must admit he misses being in the kitchen.

Your apartment hunt ends up with a last-minute offer for a one-bedroom place near your office and with a view on the park.

“Yer kitchen is better than mine,” Osamu clicks his tongue.

“That gives you a good reason to come visit me.”

“I’m thinkin’ about more than just one reason to visit ya.”

“You pervert,” you tease, and he tries to defend himself, but it’s probably a lost cause, for deep down, Osamu knows you’re right.

So yes, three weeks pass, and things go pretty well between you two.

It's been a week since he last saw you, though you FaceTime every evening—both to tell him about your day and to show him the first pieces of decoration you've put up; a few flowerpots, two cups on the counter (one for him, one for you), and a framed picture of you and Umi.

And today is the National Team last public practice match, so it means Osamu gets to finally see you in person (yesss, he mumbles when rolls out of bed at dawn.)

The match starts at 1 p.m., the crowd is expected at noon, and Osamu spends the late morning setting up his onigiri stall in the gym’s hall. His hands move automatically as he arranges the ingredients and checks his prep. He tries to focus on his routine because his mind is far from calm.  Sure, he is happy to see you but he knows you’re also waiting for the “real solution” to overcome the distance. But Osamu hasn’t found it yet, not even when you packed your bags and moved in Tokyo officially.Time is running out.

Nagisa probably noticed the somehow stressed mood of his boss and finds himself even more careful than he usual is.

“Can I have one… Ginger chicken onigiri please?”

Nagisa greets you respectfully and Osamu immediately turns to where you stand with widen eyes as if he wasn’t expecting you.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hey.” He replies back and the man has to fight the stupid grin tugging at his lips. “Just give me a second.”

Osamu hands you your order, “Enjoy.”

“Those are new, huh?”

“Yeah, for the Spring Menu.” He explains, trying to keep his cool, but his smile sneaks through.

“I can’t wait to try then,” You smile back, your eyes meeting his. He could stand there all day, just soaking in this moment. But he’s working and you have a volleyball match to attend.

“Well, I’m gonna join Kita-san now. And also-” you glance behind you at the growing line. “Don’t wanna hold up the queue.”

Before he can even think of a reply, you wave and step away. He watches as you walk toward where Kita is waiting and both disappear in the stands. His heart warms at the sight.

The hours pass as the match begins, Osamu and Nagisa catch glimpses of the game through the screens scattered around the hall. Atsumu starts the first set, naturally, and Osamu can't help but grumble to himself when his brother is swapped out for Kageyama in the second. By the time his twin closes the final set with a signature service ace, Osamu rolls his eyes, already dreading the inevitable rambling about it later tonight.

“Atsumu-san is amazing,” Nagisa says and his eyes shine at the screen.

“Well, keep that for yerself please.” Osamu straightens up and starts packing up his stall.

The crowd begins to disperse, he can hear it from a distance. He’s just about ready to close up when a familiar face appears, slightly out of breath.

“Are you still open?” one Akaashi Keiji says with a sheepish smile.

Osamu simply remarks that he’s always open for his best client, and it makes Akaashi even more embarrassed. “That’s very considerate of you Miya-san. Sorry I didn’t come by earlier. I arrived late.”

“No problem,” Osamu replies, handing him his usual set of onigiri. “Yer favorite as always.”

Akaashi accepts the food, then hesitates before speaking. “There’s a new onigiri shop near my workplace, you know. I gave it a try, but... well, they don’t come close to yours.”

Osamu chuckles. “Well, thanks, I guess.”

“But don’t worry, Miya-san,” Akaashi continues, putting his glasses back on, “I’m not going to try to convince you to open a shop in Tokyo this time. I learned my lesson. Besides, you’re probably already too busy with your current restaurant.”

Osamu opens his mouth to speak but no sound comes out of it. Instead, his mind goes blank, and a cloud makes his brain unable to think. But not in an oppressive way, no, this time the cloud is light and pleasant.

Something seems to click inside him, as if a thought that has been buried suddenly rises to the surface. He’s always brushed off the idea of expanding, but now... maybe it’s time to stop putting things aside. His decision comes in a flash, and before he can second-guess it, he’s calling out to his part-time employee.

“Hey, Nagisa! Can ya finish up closin’ the stall? I gotta go.”

Without waiting for an answer, Osamu takes off, scanning the crowd for you. He spots you near the exit, chatting with a few familiar faces. His heart beats faster as he approaches.

He says your name, “Can we talk?”

You raise an eyebrow, but you nod, leading him to a quieter spot—the room where you used to work as the Jackals’ communication manager.

“So,” you begin, crossing your arms as you turn to face him. “What’s going on?”

Osamu takes a deep breath. “I’ve been thinkin’... ‘bout how I can make this work.”

“Make what work?”

“Us.” The word feels huge, but it’s the only thing that matters right now. “I’ve decided... I’m gonna open a shop in Tokyo.”

Your eyes widen, clearly taken aback. “Wait, what?”

“I’ll expand,” Osamu says, his voice is firm. “I’ll open a shop in Tokyo, so we don’t have to do this long-distance thing. I want to be with ya. There are a lot of things I need to think about like findin’ the right place and hirin�� new people, it might take a little bit of time but I have the cash, and I know it’s gonna be alright. Can ya trust me on this?”

The last question is said with more softness, maybe with a bit of fear. But there’s still this determination in his eyes that you love so much.

You seem to process his words for a moment, and he holds his breath, waiting for your reaction. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across your face. Without warning, you throw your arms around him, and he catches you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Of course, I trust you,” you whisper against his shoulder and Osamu feels a shiver running down his spine.

“Honestly…” he speaks again, “I’m already pretty busy with the restaurant but maybe it’s time for the business to grow.”

“And I’ll be here for you. We’ll go through this together.”

Just as you’re about to kiss—something Osamu has been craving since you entered the venue—the door swings open.

Bokuto’s loud voice fills the room with your name, and both of you jump apart, startled.

“What-what’s going on here?” The outside hitter blurts out. His expression is one of shock, like a child who just caught their parents placing presents under the tree instead of Santa Claus.

“Are-are you…?” He points his finger at you, one after the other.

“We’re datin’.” Osamu replies first.

“But we want to keep it quiet for now,” you add, not noticing how Osamu’s brows furrow. Had ya mentioned this before? he wonders but keeps the question to himself. After all, it’s fine—it’s not like he was planning on going all loud and proud about your relationship like his brother would. Still, the thought lingers.

Bokuto grins, clapping his hands together. You’re both surprised by the change in his attitude (even though you should be used to Bokuto’s moody antics by now). “About time! Anyway, the team’s going out for drinks. You guys coming?”

You both nod. Once Bokuto disappears, you sneak a small kiss on the corner of his lips before opening the door again. He holds back a frustrated grunt—he wanted more, but who can blame him? After all, he’s a Miya; aiming for more is in his genes.

You find yourself sitting between your boyfriend and Bokuto in a busy izakaya. The room is loud, and it smells like fried meat and beers. For once, you're not the only girl at the table since some of the players' partners are here too. Osamu’s eyes keep drifting back to you, even while Komori is recounting some ridiculous story about how he saved Kiyoomi’s life when they were kids—which the younger cousin firmly denies. He listens, nodding politely, but his gaze betrays him as it keeps landing on you. You’re engaged in a conversation with Meian's fiancée, something about her upcoming wedding as Osamu picks up some words related to that topic.

“Oi, listen up!” Atsumu calls once all the drinks are served. He raises his glass. The chatter dies down, and all eyes turn to him. “First of all, congrats to the team on today's win. We smashed it, boys. Let’s keep it goin’, and we’ll do even better at the Olympics!” A round of cheers follows, glasses clinking together.

“And second, let’s give a round of applause to Shoyo-kun, who’s just signed a contract with Asas São Paulo! - Is that how ya say it? Anyway, I’m gonna miss settin’ to ya man, but ya truly deserve it.” Hinata grins, showing all his teeth, and rubs the back of his head as he thanks everyone.

“And finally,” Atsumu pauses dramatically and smirks, “I gotta congratulate Tobio-kun for his solid performance in the second set... even though I’m the one who finished the game off with that perfect serve.”

Kageyama, ever stoic, only bows his head slightly and mutters some “Thank you.”

Aran turns to Osamu, “Will yer brother ever be humble?”, his tone is both desperate and exasperated.

The older twin hears the remark and starts justifying his words, but it only creates a ripple of laughter all around the table.

Bokuto suddenly stands up, taking Atsumu’s role, with an unexpected serious face. “I’ve got something to say too,” he begins and raises his glass in your direction, before saying your name. “I wanna thank you for all the work you’ve done managing our social media for almost a year. You really helped us connect with our fans, and I just-”

Akaashi, sitting to Osamu’s right, leans over and whispers to your boyfriend, “But Kuroo-san told me she’s still managing the Jackals' social media, even if it’s not her main focus anymore.”

“I will.” You announce, high enough for Koutarou to hear. “I’m not completely leaving the Jackals.”

Sakusa sighs heavily. “We already know that. Bokuto’s just being dense as usual,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.

“Wait, you’re not leaving us?” Bokuto asks and his large amber eyes get glassy.

“No, I’ll still be around. I’ll be based in Tokyo most of the time, but I’ll come by every couple of months.” You smile at him gently.

Bokuto grins before sitting down with a long sigh of relief.

The next minute, he turns to you and Osamu. His eyes scan around and he drops his voice to a whisper, “So... you’ll be in a long-distance relationship?”

From under the table, Osamu squeezes your hand, and you return the gesture with a soft smile.

“Actually... I’ve been thinkin’ about openin’ a shop in Tokyo. It’s still just an idea, though, so let’s keep it between us for now.”

“Dude, that’s another secret I have to keep! But you can count on me.” He takes a sip of beer before adding, “Oh and I’m happy for you two.”

Osamu intertwines his fingers with yours, for the first time in a while it feels like everything is falling into place. As if he can finally exhale after holding his breath for so long, because nothing can come between you now.

He glances at you; you’re absolutely beautiful. It’s almost unfair how gorgeous you appear in his eyes. There’s so much he wishes to tell you right now, so many more touches he wants to share. The desire to be selfish takes over and he leans in. As he parts his lips to whisper that he loves you, Atsumu shouts.

“SUNARIN! So cool you made it!’

You drop his hand in a sharp, almost reflexive move.

Your knees no longer touch each other, a thin void is left where your shoulder was resting.

Suna strides into the izakaya. Osamu can’t help but look at you, as his former teammate approaches to greet everyone. You’re clearly troubled by the situation, and after all, it’s only normal. What Osamu doesn’t like though, is how your gaze is glued to your ex now and how all your attention is directed towards the middle blocker, instead of him.

He feels his lungs get smashed all over again.

Because just when he thought everything was finally settling, it hits him that perhaps, there’s still one more obstacle to overcome.

author notes: i hope you love roller coasters haha

i really enjoyed introducing new characters from haikyuu even though it's only for a small part of the chapter

did you guys love this chapter? (only 1 left btw)

sorry for the delay againnn

lots of love

taglist: @wolffmaiden, @teyvatsunsets, @obibiwan, @sugacor3, @sunahsvt, @iluv-ace, @cinnamonruts

[riality-check]

part 3 of... whatever this au is. here's part 1 and part 2 if you missed them. tw substance abuse. part 4 here. part 5 here. part 6 here. part 7 here.

ao3

"You ever taken a hit?"

"Excuse me?"

First, Harrington calls his songs "boring" and "repetitive." "Talking about all the same thing." And, yeah, maybe he does have a point. Maybe Eddie can't write about much else, but that's a casualty of not being able to think about much else.

Everyone says addiction is selfish, and they're right. No one talks about how recovery is, too.

So, sorry that he's consumed by notoriously all-consuming things.

But then, Harrington shows up late to the studio. Granted, Eddie was, too, but Harrington stumbled into the little room fifteen minutes after the time Chrissy set up for them, ever-present coffee in hand.

And now he asks that.

"Like a punch," he explains. "Have you ever been hit?"

Eddie lets out a breath. "Yeah, I've been hit."

He thinks back to being a freshman in high school, what feels like forever ago, and getting shoved and tripped and swirlied by senior jock assholes.

There were never any closed-fist punches, but Eddie thinks he gets the idea.

"So you know that it feels good."

Eddie stares at him. "Good is not the word-"

"There's a moment," Harrington interrupts, and Eddie wants to kill him, "between the impact and the pain. You feel everything: how their hand feels, whether they're wearing rings, if they're holding something. And that might not feel good, but right after they hit you, everything is warm. And it feels really good, right until the pain sets in."

Eddie doesn't know what to say, not really, so he mouths off. "Got a lot of experience?"

"Four diagnosed concussions," Harrington replies.

Well. Eddie wasn't expecting that.

Just like he wasn't expecting Harrington's music to actually be good. He stayed up with the band last night, listening. And, yeah, he didn't like the goddamn synth chords, but reading along with the lyrics...

It was impressive. Eddie was impressed, okay?

Harrington's lyrics are far-ranging and emotionally impactful. He writes about family and love and survival in these really compelling, sometimes upbeat, sometimes not, ways. He writes about getting better and getting back up and fighting and Eddie gets it. He gets why Chrissy got his help.

Because not only is Harrington a rising star with a voice that Eddie thinks could be a little grittier if he put in the effort, but he also knows how to write about a lot of stuff.

And Eddie, since - since all of it, has clearly forgotten how to do so.

So, maybe, just maybe, he should start throwing his expectations about Harrington out the window.

"You know what it feels like," Harrington says. "So write about it."

Eddie sighs and lets his head flop onto the back of the couch. He hears Steve shift in his chair, hears him yawn.

In the silence, he wonders if he's sipping his coffee or covering his mouth like he did last week.

Eddie thinks that if he finds out the answer, he'll need a cigarette to kill the itch that'll inevitably spring up.

"Or not," Harrington mumbles.

Eddie drops his head forward. "Give a guy a second, will you? I don't know how-"

"Well, I'm here to help, not spoon-feed you lyrics."

"I didn't ask-"

"Oh, believe me, I know."

"Then why the hell-"

"Write about losing," Harrington snaps.

Eddie tilts his head to the side. "What?"

"You write about-"

"I know what I write about."

"Then you should know," Harrington says, raising his voice, "that there was a point where you wanted to give in."

Eddie shuts his mouth, and, despite his better instincts, leans forward, toward Harrington, far enough that his knees hit the coffee table between the couch and the chair.

"Because when you're fighting monsters, a little part of you thinks, it would be so much easier if I just lost. If I threw up my hands and let them get me."

Eddie thinks back to waking up after blackouts. To being carried places and dunked under cold water to sober the fuck up before we go out there. To figuring out ways to stay higher longer, refusing to be beholden to the inevitable crash.

And he hates that Steve Harrington has somehow found that out about him, however vaguely.

"Lot of experience with monsters?" Eddie says because damn if Harrington gets to cut him without getting cut back.

Harrington leans forward in turn. "You have no idea."

He picks up the black ballpoint pen on the coffee table and shoves it toward Eddie, toward his blank notepad.

Eddie bites his tongue, takes it, and writes lyrics and a lead guitar part in the fastest time he's ever managed, with Harrington as a sounding board, offering his suggestions.

They're good suggestions.

It's going to be a good song.

It's too bad that Eddie can't stand Harrington's smug smirks and his terrifying assumptions and his little bit of spaciness. It's too bad that after he sees Harrington swipe at his nose - even though it's probably not like that - when they're done that Eddie has to go outside and smoke two cigarettes to stop thinking about it.

Otherwise, they might actually make a good team.

[sad-girl-hours23]

Hold Me Hostage, Arrest My Attention

For the @tevanadvent2024 Day 4: Hostage & Day 5: Attention

Rating: E

Tags: Orgasm Delay/Denial, Daddy Kink (not really, but just in case)

Word Count: 1,157

Buck hasn’t seen or heard from Tommy in three weeks. Not since Tommy checked on Maddie and him at the hospital after the kidnapping/hostage situation. They’d had a brief, neutral exchange in Buck’s hospital room, but then Bobby and Hen had shown up and Tommy snuck out before Buck could ask him to stay.

He’s wanted to reach out so many times but what would he even say?

Thank you

Why haven’t you called?

Please Daddy can you fuck me until I forget my own name and that you ever broke my heart?

Buck sighs and goes back to scrolling through Instagram until a text post catches his eye. It reads: Hostage or not, sometimes it’s just nice to be held.

He takes a screenshot. Stares at it for a minute in his camera roll. He shouldn’t. But he’s feeling a little sad and even more petulant. He still misses Tommy even if he’s no longer baking about it. He’s lonely. And he’s horny. He misses sex and he’s angry that even the thought of being with somebody else makes him sick and so he hasn’t even tried. 

He sends the photo. If he can’t have Tommy, at least he’ll have gotten his attention.

His phone vibrates with a message and it sends a thrill up his spine. Before he can open the message, two more come in and the panic sets in. Fuck. What did he do?

He ignores the call coming in. Considers going for a run instead to distract himself. Thinks better of it and opts for a shower instead.

∗∗∗

There’s a knock at Buck’s door just as he’s finished drying off. He ties the towel around his waist and pads to the door.

Buck tries to act surprised, maybe a little confused, but he can’t help the smile that creeps onto his face. “Tommy?” He lets Tommy in and closes the door, resting against it.

“What is wrong with you?”

“Wha—”

Tommy shows him their text thread, already open on his phone.

Buck lifts his chin. “I meant to send that to Eddie.”

Tommy hums. “Did you also mean to like fifteen of Eddie’s photos from 2019?” 

Buck smirks and shrugs. “Had to get your attention somehow.”

Tommy moves closer but doesn’t touch him and before he can do something considerate like ask if Buck’s okay with it, he grabs Tommy’s face and kisses him.

Tommy’s stubble scrapes against Buck’s freshly shaved skin and Buck gets hard so fast he’s dizzy with it. “Bed,” he says, in between kisses. “I need you in my bed like yesterday.”

Tommy looks between them where Buck’s dick is poking out of the gap in the towel, hard and already leaking, and he chuckles. “Baby, I don’t think you’re going to make it that far.” 

“Oh fuck you, Kinard.”

Tommy hums. “Not tonight, dear.” Then he drops to his knees, takes Buck into the wet heat of his mouth, and gives Buck the quickest, most dizzying orgasm of his life.

Buck’s still panting and clinging to Tommy’s shoulders when Tommy suddenly lifts him in a fireman’s carry.

Buck laughs, his first genuine one in months. “Oh my god, put me down you beast.”

“Not a chance, Buckley,” Tommy says, carrying him upstairs. 

∗∗∗

Buck groans and clutches the sheets underneath him, which are soaked with a mixture of his sweat and drool. His chances of crying or coming are pretty even at this point. Except, Tommy won’t let him come, not until he’s named all of the U.S. state capitals. In alphabetical order by state. Buck scoffed when Tommy had set the terms. Easy, he thought, I could do that in my sleep. 

It’s not so easy with Tommy’s tongue in Buck’s ass, his cock leaking into the pillow supporting his hips and it feels like Tommy’s been eating him out for hours and he’s still a little come drunk from his first orgasm and he’s only up to—oh, fuck— “Carson,” Buck moans. “Carson City.” Memories of a late night wiki deep dive ping in his mind. “Oh hey, did you know—”

Tommy chuckles. “Darling, do you want to have to start over? Again?”

Buck whines. Tommy can’t expect him to name fifty state capitals and not go on a tangent about any of them…he knows what he’s doing. And, oh fuck, does he know what he’s doing.

When Buck finally makes it to “Cheyenne,” Tommy calls him good boy and pushes three fingers into his eager, spit-soaked hole and Buck comes so hard he passes out.

∗∗∗

When Buck comes to, Tommy’s next to him, propped up on his elbow. He slides a warm washcloth over Buck’s sticky, cooling skin and doesn’t meet his eyes.

Buck stretches and groans. “We should definitely do that again.” Right now, he thinks, and tomorrow, and every day after. 

Tommy stops his movements and tosses the washcloth aside. “I’m not some toy that you can just pick up and play with when you feel like it, Buck.”

Buck’s brain isn’t completely back online yet, and flashes of a forgotten memory rise to the surface: Buck at age ten, bored and rustling through the garage for something to do. Finding a tub of Maddie’s old Barbie dolls and accessories. An hour later, marrying Ken and G.I. Joe in a gazebo. 

Buck faces Tommy, thinking he would be amused by the story, but stops short at the stormy look on his face. Oh, it’s not a game anymore.

Buck sits up. “Are you serious? You broke up with me, remember?”

Tommy makes a move to get up from the bed, but Buck’s faster, pushing him back down with a firm hand on his chest. 

“You decided you were done with me,” Buck grits out as he straddles Tommy’s hips. He shakes his head, even though Tommy won’t look at him. “No that’s not right—you decided I was done with you.” Buck grabs Tommy’s cleft, forcing Tommy to face him.

There’s a flash of warning in Tommy’s eyes. 

“Who the fuck said I was done with you?”

Tommy stays silent, a stubborn set to his jaw, but he doesn’t look away.

Buck brings Tommy’s hands to the top of the bed, interlacing their fingers. “I’m not done with you.”

Tommy doesn’t pull away.

∗∗∗

Buck wakes the next morning, loose-limbed and lighter than he’s felt in months. The strings of anger that had been holding him up effectively cut, all the fight thoroughly sucked and fucked out of him.

There’s a solid wall of muscle and heat at his back, one hand curled possessively around his waist, small puffs of breath against his neck. Buck turns in the embrace. “Tommy?” he says quietly, like Tommy might disappear if the voice of his hope is too loud.

Tommy opens his eyes. “Evan?”

“You stayed.”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, running his hand through Buck’s curls. “ Guess I’m not done with you yet either.”

Also on AO3

[friendly-neighborhood-boricua]

[5] James Takes Liam to School

Summary: The month following your birthday sees you and Liam growing closer with James outside of school, and when you're stressed and in a rush, James offers to help.

Notes: Marauders modern elementary school AU, kindergarten teacher!James Potter x nurse!reader, mom!reader x son!OC (Liam). Last one was really long and this one is kinda just regular length, sorry :/

A/N (26/7/2024): ok I made a small change since I first posted this ... just figured a little Tonks cameo would be fun lol so now Tonks watches Liam before school :)

Previous Part: Liam and James Make You A Birthday Gift Next Part: You Get A Visitor in the ER Series Masterlist here

Okok first lemme explain something really quick

Your apartment building has a lobby sort of thing on the first floor right as you walk in

And this lobby doesn’t really have a ceiling if you know what I mean? Like the building is hollow above the lobby area, and there are like balcony/hallway things inside the building for each floor where you can enter the apartments

(idk if that makes sense but please just bear with me on this one pls)

So you and Liam’s apartment is on the second floor of the building, right above the post boxes for the building

And you, Liam, and James have figured out that James’ apartment is the one right above yours

You’re not 100% sure how you feel about this yet … but so far it’s only brought good things (read: cookies for your birthday and seeing James get his mail every day while you’re on your way out the door for work)

James, on the other hand, is lowkey super thrilled

Bc he loves (LOVES) to see you in your scrubs early every morning

The two of you have made a habit of making light conversation for a couple minutes in the morning

(Or sometimes James just waves at you with the sweetest, prettiest, kindest smile if you’re in a rush)

It’s the highlight of James’ day tbh

Maybe tied with seeing Liam at school

You and James have actually become pretty good friends through these small interactions

Over the month or so since your birthday, James has learned, little by little, what constitutes a regular day in you and Liam’s household

Mornings are rather chaotic since you usually work 12-hour shifts from 7 to 7, so you pay one of the high school girls that lives in the building to watch Liam for an hour and drive him to school

You leave at 6:30-ish, which is right around the time James gets his mail (fucking morning person)

(He's started putting an alarm on his phone for 6:20 to remember to see you get the mail every morning)

Tonks is the girl who watches Liam in the morning (she insists you call her that and who are you to say no), and she also picks him up from school on Tuesdays and Thursdays and drops him off at Ms. Hope’s house across the street for a few hours before you can pick him up from there and take him home (Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, Ms. Hope can pick Liam up herself)

It’s a couple evenings a week that James crosses paths with you and Liam as you’re walking across the street back from Ms. Hope’s house

He always takes fifteen minutes or so (as long as you and Liam have the time) to talk with Liam about his day, what he enjoyed at school, if he had trouble on any homework (which is rare), and what he and Ms. Hope got up to after school

(Secretly, James hopes you’ll be impressed with how good he is with kids even though it’s literally his job lmao he knows it’s backwards thinking but he’s just so smitten)

But James knows better than to ask the same boring “what are you doing today” during your daily morning chats

Every morning, he asks you a random question about yourself

The second morning you and James talked (he hadn’t thought to ask you much more than “what are you doing up so early” the first time around), he’d asked about your favorite color

Then it was whether you prefer cats or dogs

James knows a bunch of random trivia about you now, like your favorite food and how you hate working in the med-surg unit and the name of your favorite stuffed animal from your childhood

And every morning, James tells you his own answer to the question of the day

His favorite color is red (which you think fits him, but he specified that he likes a dark wine color or a maraschino cherry best), he likes cats but prefers dogs (he laughed to himself when he told you like he was making an inside joke, but you didn’t ask questions), his favorite food is his mom’s recipe for biryani (you noted that he used the past tense when speaking of her), he loves bringing his kids to the library because one of his best friends is the librarian (James mentioned Remus, and you nodded because he’s Ms. Hope’s son), and his favorite stuffed animal is a plush rabbit named Miss Beatrice, who he still has in his apartment (you bullied him into admitting that he still sleeps with her on occasion, but it's so sweet you can't really laugh)

It’s become almost a sort of game, and you’ve come to know each other quite a bit more in these little five- or ten-minute interactions

It’s fun :)

And it’s normal and regular and consistent, and you and James like it that way

So James is rather alarmed when you come rushing down the stairs and into the lobby at 6:40 one morning, Liam running along with you with his school bag, trying to keep pace

You heave a sigh as you come to stand James’ side, checking your own mailbox (which you usually don’t do in the morning, and it makes James all the more concerned)

James can tell you’re trying not to brush him off but it’s obvious you’re in a rush

You’re halfway through explaining to him that Tonks came down with bronchitis and can’t watch Liam, and on top of that, your alarm didn’t go off this morning because you’d turned it off yesterday for your day off and forgot to turn it back on so you’re already running late, and you hate asking Ms. Hope to watch Liam at the asscrack of dawn—

James doesn’t really think about the words he says before they’re coming out of his mouth

He just offers to take Liam to school

It’s not like he’d be going out of the way for it anyway, I mean he and Liam are going to the exact same place and Liam has already been in James’ apartment before and knows it relatively well, so what’s the harm?

And you kinda … freeze … for a second

And at this point, James knows you pretty well, you know?

He knows you’re gonna refuse, say you can’t ask that of him, so he reassures you that it won’t be a problem at all and says he and Liam will have fun and get to school on time and everything

Just for added effect, he winks at Liam, who giggles and tugs on the sleeve of the shirt under your scrubs and asks with the sweetest, widest eyes if he can stay with Mr. Potter for the morning

And ever the thoughtful little boy, Liam reasons that then you won’t have to be stressed about bothering Ms. Hope or about where Liam might be for an hour in the morning

You’re considering the options, looking between James’ and Liam’s wide, excited eyes, until you finally sigh quietly

Just to be sure, you ask James if he’s sure he doesn’t mind

And of course, James doesn’t

(It took a while for James to convince you to stop calling him Mr. Potter and he’s always seen how you hesitate for a moment before calling him James, but he surprises himself with just how hot he feels under the collar when you don’t hesitate to call him by his first name this time)

You look down at Liam again and nod lightly, and your son is just all smiles and buzzing with excitement immediately

He gives you a hug around one of your legs, which you reciprocate as best as you can, and you exchange ‘I love you’s before you’re thanking James profusely on your way out the door

James watches you get in your car and drive away through the glass front doors of the building

And he must have an awfully fond look on his face

Because Liam just looks up at him with the cutest scrutinizing eyes you’ll ever see and asks “Do you like-like my mom?”

James just about chokes on his spit lmaooo

But Liam isn’t letting James off the hook without an answer, so James tries to be as tactful (and evasive) as he can be and says

“Your mom is very sweet, Liam. I can see where you get it from.”

Your chaotic morning was truly a warning for the rest of the day, because work really sucked

And by the end of your shift, you realize you didn’t tell James where Liam should go after school due to the unforeseen circumstances of the morning, so you’re hoping you won’t find your son sitting on the welcome mat outside of your apartment

But you figure you’ll go to Ms. Hope’s in case James kept to the usual schedule

But when you arrive, Ms. Hope says that James had actually called and told her he’d be taking Liam to his apartment and to tell you that’s where your son would be when you got home

So ofc that’s where you go next

You sort of hesitate to knock on the door at first, just because you’ve never been in or even around James’ apartment and it makes you strangely nervous

(Which is weird because you assisted with surgery on a man who’d been in a motorcycle accident earlier that day, and you’d come out on the other side of that alive and mostly mentally intact)

But your fist kinda just acts for you and knocks on James’ front door

There’s silence, then a high-pitched giggle (Liam) and a sweet chuckle (presumably James) before the door is yanked open and your son is flying into your arms

Well, more like into your legs bc he’s six and short lmao

But you pick him up and rest him on your hip like he’s a lot lighter than he is

And he’s immediately babbling away at you about all the fun things they did at school and how he wants to hang out with Mr. Potter every morning and afternoon and he missed you and look what he made for you during art class today!

You’re already feeling better from your shit day at work, and when you finally get the chance to look towards the doorway again, James is there with the softest, most … ugh he's just the sweetest

Because he looks so in love

And you sort of hate that you can see it in the way he looks at you and Liam

James is truly the kindest, most compassionate man you’ve ever met, and you know that at the end of the day, even when he looks at you and your son like that, you’re already counting the obstacles in your head

Because first and foremost, you’re a mother, always, and your son will always come first no matter what

And James is literally Liam’s kindergarten teacher, and there’s no way you’d even entertain the idea of putting your child’s education anywhere near your own entanglements

And even if that wasn’t a problem, and as much as James makes lovie eyes at you, you haven’t dated since Liam’s father

It would be an enormous change, both for you and Liam

And again, you don’t want your son to get hurt

You hope you’re not as transparent as you feel and that your thoughts aren’t being projected onto your forehead, but the way James reacts to you looking at him makes you think that maybe they were

But … maybe not, because you give him a tight-lipped, sort-of-melancholy smile, and all James does is smile back, and there’s a sort of understanding that passes between you as your son babbles in your arms about his class’ dioramas of the jurassic period

Not now, but … Maybe.

Next Part: You Get A Visitor in the ER

[headfulloflettuce]

Puppet Darling - Part 3

Inspired by @wallflowers-in-the-wind’s post here.

Here you can read part 1 and part 2 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7

Nesta was hiding. Lucien insisted they split up after Feyre's…breakdown and she had been here ever since. 

Stuck in a broom closet.

If her mother was still alive to see this she would have proceeded to keel over and die again.

Nesta snorted.

For a general he was rather bad at this game of hide and seek, though perhaps this would be more up Azriel’s lane.

“Nesta? Nes? Where are you?” Cassian called out, the sound of his boots coming closer.

He passed the broom closet.

“Sweetheart?”

Nesta smirked.

He didn’t even think I would try and hide in a space as…messy as this.

She shifted, the grime from the cleaning supplies sticking to her dark blue dress, her hair falling out of her bun in a messy fashion. Nesta knew she was being petty; not dancing with her mate because he hadn’t complimented her dress.

It was stupid. But so was he, so in her mind, it evened out.

Even though I spent hours preparing. 

I mean, if he can compliment Mor’s dress for fifteen minutes straight, surely he could spare me a glance. 

Nesta crossed her arms. Until he acknowledges her efforts she wasn’t going to come out of this closet. 

The door creaked, making Nesta jump, hitting her head on the low ceiling. A breathless Lucien scrambled inside, shutting the door closed behind him.

He stared at her.

She stared back.

“Excuse me but this hiding spot is taken.” Nesta smirked, raising her eyebrows at the red head.

Lucien only brought his fingers to his lips, begging her to be silent. 

Nesta quieted, listening closely to the sounds around them. 

There was nothing.

“Lucien, what is-”

He covered her mouth with one hand, listening intently, using the other to pull back the curtains on the small window in the closet, illuminating the whole space with bright sunshine.

Nesta listened too. She heard it now - the soft whispers.

Along the edges of the door she could see them, the small shadows that squirmed and weaved their way through darkness, trying to see what was inside the closet, but failing due to the light’s presence.

Lucien exhaled as the shadows left, removing his hand from Nesta’s mouth, “We’ll have a short while before Azriel realizes where we are.”

“Sorry, but where you are. I am not in on whatever you’re doing.”

“I am trying to find the reason why Rhysand lost control of Feyre.”

Nesta looked at him.

“Feyre said that this is the first time she’s been in control in years, that means something here must have disrupted Rhysand’s power over her.” Lucien explained, “I was sneaking around, trying to find clues when Azriel got suspicious and began following me.”

“Did you find anything?” her voice softened.

“Perhaps.” Lucien muttered, “Apparently a fae called Elanor interrupted the High Lord’s meeting, which was when Feyre left. I suspect she has something to do with this. She is a scholar employed by Helion in the palace. Maybe she has some sort of power, or magic that influences Rhysand.”

“A power? That can influence a High Lord? Please, Lucien, that’s absurd.”

“It is, but it isn’t unheard of. After all, they’re not invincible against ash wood, why can’t something else mess with them? Or any fae for that matter?”

Nesta shrugged, feeling doubtful about the whole situation.

“I am going to try and sneak into her study and see if there’s anything there.”

“What if I tell Rhysand that you’re plotting against him?”

Lucien paled, “You wouldn’t do that…”

“Would I not?” Nesta jutted out her chin.

“You hate him.”

“Oh, and here I thought I was supposed to love him?”

“Nesta, this is your sister, please.”

“Please what?” Nests was annoyed, first Cassian, now Lucien was bothering her.

Can you not leave me to enjoy my quiet and peace for five minutes?

“Please, help me.” Lucien’s eyes were earnest, “Help me save my friend.”

Friend. He was still willing to call her friend after everything.

Nesta sighed, “Fine. I will help you. If next time you won’t bother me when I am relaxing.”

Lucien looked around the small closet they were sitting in, “I am sorry, I didn’t realize we were at a luxurious spa resort.”

Nesta glared, “Do you want my help?”

“Yes, sorry. No more spa jokes.” Lucien nodded apologetically, scooting over to the door and checking the hallway, “It’s clear. We can go.”

She crawled out of the cramped space, following Lucien who dusted his pants off from the dirt that got on his clean pants. Nesta looked down at her dress, covered in dust and soot. She took out her handkerchief, trying to clean it off as well, but it only smudged.

Lucien took the lead, walking down the hallway, carefully checking corners and continuously looking around to ensure they weren’t being followed.

“Are you a ballerina Lucien?” Nesta noted.

“Sorry, but if you haven’t forgotten, an infamous shadowsinger is on the lookout.”

“Right.” she still thought he looked silly.

Nesta hadn’t decided what she thought of her sister’s ramblings. Because truly? Mind control? She couldn’t bring herself to trust such a statement when Feyre had raved about how amazing Rhys was. How he saved her from Tamlin. How the Spring Lord was the worst male to ever walk this planet. How Feyre practically worshiped the ground Rhysand walked on…

Nesta paused, her youngest sister’s panicked expression flashing in her mind.

What if it was true though? What if Feyre truly wasn’t Feyre all this time? 

Nesta glanced at Lucien’s concentrated expression.

Lucien took her seriously the moment she confessed.

“How much farther?”

“We’re here.” Lucien turned into another hallway, pressing his ear against the third door, checking if someone was inside. He then pulled out a lockpick and began working the lock.

Nesta kept watch, ready to shut down the operation if anyone came close.

The lock clicked.

“I got it.” Lucien pushed the door open, Nesta stepping inside.

The room was tall, with models of planets hanging from the ceiling amongst the faerie lights. A large window behind the work desk provided additional illumination. Lucien began carefully searching through the items left on the couches, while Nesta gazed at the bookshelf lining the wall in wonder. 

She ran a hand down the spine of an ancient text. 

Beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. The knowledge you must hide within you.

Nesta paused her musings, smirking as her fingers found a romance novel.

My, the smut you hide inside you…

Turning away from the books Nesta walked over to the large work bench covered in papers and various instruments. She leaned in, analyzing the beakers and vials closely.

Which one of you is weakening Rhysand?

Her eyes scanned the crystals, rocks and moss littering the space, stopping on a vial full of golden powder. Nesta huffed, sensing Lucien peeking over her shoulder.

Personal space much?

The sparkles shimmered, mesmerizing her with the lattice patterns being constructed and destructed as it swirled. She picked up the vial, giving it a gentle whirl. 

It was definitely a powder, despite its watery visuals. 

The door clicked, as someone began unlocking it.

“Shit.” Lucien whispered, quickly taking Nesta’s hand, winnowing them away as the door swung open. 

They teleported into the Day Court’s garden’s maze. 

“Wow Lucien.” Nests chuckled, “What will the faeries say when they see us here together?”

What would Elain think?

Lucien looked away, putting distance between the two of them as he began navigating his way out of the garden maze, “We needed more time. That powder must be related to this situation somehow.” he gritted his teeth, regretting that he hadn’t grabbed it.

“You mean this powder?” Nesta pulled out her handkerchief, filled to the brim with the sparkling dust.

Lucien stopped walking, staring at the dust, “I thought you said you would sell me out to Rhys.”

“I changed my mind.” Nesta pocketed the powder, “I can’t let you have all the fun now can I?”

“No, I guess you can’t.” he conceded. 

“What now?”

“We should find Feyre, tell her what we found.”

“Then we have no time to lose.” Nesta took the lead, “Who knows when our dear High Lord will come looking for us.”

Nesta couldn’t believe the person standing across the ballroom was the same sister who had just been sobbing, begging her for help. Feyre was chatting with Day Court nobles casually, the superior aura that Nesta had grown to despise back in full force. Her sister giggled at something a fae female said, bidding them goodbye as she was left alone.

“Now’s our chance.” Nesta gritted her teeth, ready to hurl the stupid powder into her sister’s face and remind her of the things she had been spouting mere hours ago.

“Wait.” Lucien spoke up before Nesta could get closer, “We can’t just throw the powder at her.”

“Why not?”

“If it is the thing causing him to lose control over her he will find out if he searches her memory, it’s best to be discreet.” Lucien grabbed a tray of wine glasses from a servant passing by, “Put it in here.”

“Should I add it to ours too?”

Lucien hesitated before nodding.

“Isn’t that unsafe?” Nesta asked pointedly.

“It is, we don’t know if it has negative consequences besides disrupting Rhysand’s powers.” Lucien agreed, “But we don’t have to drink, just pretend to.”

Nesta sprinkled some of the powder onto the top of the drinks, pocketing the rest of it afterwards.

“Hey Feyre!” Lucien approached the High Lady of the Night Court, smiling brightly, “How is your evening going?”

“Oh, it’s good.” Feyre smiled, her movements smooth and controlled.

“Good, would you like to have a drink? We wanted to toast to you and Rhysand.” Lucien offered her a glass.

“Haha, you’re so sweet Lucien.” Feyre took one of the glasses, Lucien and Nesta matching her movements.

“To your happy union.” Lucien congratulated.

Nesta looked at her sister, searching for any hint that this whole thing was a ruse. That this was all an elaborate scheme to trick her and Lucien into doing something they weren’t supposed to. 

She found nothing but the familiar blue-gray eyes, soulless and void of the spark, the anger and happiness Nesta witnessed in them when Feyre found her and Elain in the kitchen.

Feyre smiled, her eyes glazed over as she tipped her glass to them, bringing it up to her lips. Taking a sip, Feyre’s eyes widened, the panic and clarity Nesta had seen in her sister earlier returning in full force as she swayed, Lucien placing a hand behind her to keep her stable.

“Luc-”

“Don't draw attention.” He said quietly, still smiling, waving to a few emesseries that passed by.

Feyre nodded, blinking away the mist from her eyes.

“How did you do it?”

“We found the thing that does it.” Lucien kept his wording vague.

Feyre breathed a sigh of relief.

“What now though?”

“We need to run.”

“Feyre you can't be serious, that's suicide. Rhysand will easily catch us.”

“We have to!” Her voice rose, catching the attention of a couple noble females nearby, “He knows I am free, he'll come as soon as he can away from talking with Helion and Thesan!”

“Feyre you need to be quiet.” Lucien shushed her, “I understand you're scared but if you yell it'll only get him here faster.”

“We should go a route he wouldn't expect us to.” Nesta spoke up, her mind already spinning with ideas.

“We should just winnow away-”

“No, that's what he'll expect us to do.” Nesta cut Lucien off, “We'll go by foot.”

“By foot, are you crazy? We'll get caught at that rate!”

“Not ‘we’, us, you are staying back.” Nesta gave the order.

Feyre stared at her sister.

“What are you talking about? Of course I am coming with you!” Lucien sputtered 

“We need someone to keep an eye on Rhysand, if we leave with no one on the inside we'll be in more danger.” Nesta explained.

Lucien reluctantly nodded, seeing her point, “So you want me to be the sneaky fox on the inside?”

“More like a mole or a rat.”

“I prefer Fox.”

Nesta turned to Feyre, not wanting to continue this useless debate, “Is there anything you need before we leave?”

“Nyx.” Feyre said, “We need to get him. I can't leave him with Rhysand.”

“Where is he right now?”

“With Naula…”

“We can go get him together.” Lucien offered, “Nesta you should stay back to not raise suspicion.”

“Right…” Nesta responded dryly.

“Wait,” Feyre looked to Nesta, “Can you get Elain to come with us?”

“Feyre, I don’t think she wants to leave at this point.”

“It’s dangerous…please, I don’t want her to get hurt.”

So me getting hurt was fine, but her no?

Nesta sighed.

Well…at least we can agree on her wellbeing.

“I’ll convince her.”

“We’ll meet at the docks.” Lucien took Feyre’s hand.

“Why at the docks?” Feyre sounded exhausted.

“You’ll see.”

Nesta found Elain chatting with a group of Day Court herbalists.

“Elain, may I have a word?”

Elain looked annoyed but stepped away with Nesta to the side, “What is it?”

“We need to go.”

“By the Mother, did Feyre convince you?!” Elain looked disappointed in her sister.

“Elain, I think…she might be telling the truth.”

“She was just drunk.”

“Lucien took her seriously.”

Elain quieted at the mention of Lucien, narrowing her eyes, “What did he say?”

“He said it was because of the bargain they struck under the mountain.”

“What bargain?”

Well, at least I wasn’t the only one out of the loop.

“The one that required Feyre to spend a week with Rhys in Night Court.”

“What…?”

“We’re planning on running.”

Those words didn’t sound real to Nesta. The idea that they were finally leaving? After all this time? Abandoning the very thing they-she, had sacrificed so much to?

It was liberating.

“Hold on, isn’t this an overreaction? We should try to talk it out with Rhys, or ask Mor for help. Oh, I am sure Azriel would be willing to listen!”

“Elain-”

“No!” Elain raised her voice, startling Nesta, “You don’t get to tear me away when I just settled in. You don’t get to tear me away from the life that I had built for myself. Feyre was happy living in the Night Court as the High Lady until what? An hour ago? Claiming to have gotten mind controlled?” she took a step forward, “And why are you so keen to believe her? Don’t tell me you’re trying to play the caring older sister after”

Nesta didn’t say anything, watching as her sister caught her breath, calming down.

“Better?”

Elain nodded.

“Elain, I understand that this is all…a lot right now, but I still think that this is a good decision.”

“Leaving?” Elain snapped.

“No, call it taking a vacation.” Nesta corrected, “We’ll go somewhere else. Someplace we can treat as a neutral ground for our conversations with Rhys and the others. If…and when we have resolved this conflict we can go back.”

Elain gently brushed her dress out, processing.

“When are we leaving?”

“Now.”

“The main part of the event is over, you should be able to escape on foot.” Lucien explained as the group, dressed in gray cloaks, approached the port, “You’ll escape on a ship heading back to Summer Court, from where you can travel to Spring and to the human lands.”

“Thank you.” Feyre murmured, holding a bundled up Nyx close to her chest.

“It’s nothing.” Lucien avoided making eye contact with Elain, leading the Archeron sisters to a large transport ship, “I already checked, there is a large crate at the very end of the ship that has free space that won’t get filled up with produce. Hide there.”

With that he winnowed away.

The three sisters exchanged a look, carefully boarding the ship, Nesta keeping a lookout to ensure they weren’t spotted. 

Feyre sat quietly, holding Nyx close to her chest, gently bouncing him to keep him quiet.

Elain curled in on herself, while Nesta tapped a rhythm with her finger.

“Is the ship ready to depart?”

“Yes captain!”

“Good, we’ll be departing in fifteen minutes.”

The sailors moved around the ship, chatting and double checking that everything was secure.

Feyre flinched.

Nests cast her a questioning look.

“Sorry, it’s the bond.” Feyre cringed, “Rhysand is screaming at me to return through it.”

“Maybe we should.” Elain said pointedly.

“Absolutely not.” Feyre’s voice regained its previous panic, “We cannot go back.” she hissed.

I hate that look in your eyes.

Nesta gazed at her younger sister.

I hate how weak you are.

Feyre took a deep breath, trying to ease an invisible pain.

Where is my sister? The one who hunted? The one who protected us?

“Captain! Captain! The High Lord of Summer is here!”

“Please, just Tarquin is fine.”

“Right sir.”

“Are we ready to set sail?”

“Yes sir!”

“Don’t High Lords winnow home?” Elain mouthed to Nesta.

They’re supposed to.

She didn’t give her sister a response.

“Sir, please take a look.” the captain opened a nearby crate, “While in Day we were able to purchase some of their wines.”

“There was a second crate with more somewhere over here.” another voice sounded.

Light hit their faces as someone opened the crate they were sitting in. A sailor stared in confusion at them.

“Kid, the other wines are to the left of that.”

“Um, sir. There’s…uh.”

“What is it?” Tarquin’s voice approached, his face appearing beside the younger fae’s.

He made eye contact with Feyre.

“You.” Tarquin glared, his voice like the ocean hitting sharp cliffs.

“T-Tarquin.” guilt flashed across Feyre's face as she pulled away, hiding further in the crate.

“Why the hell are you three in here?”

“Tarq-”

“Here to steal another ancient artifact?”

“No!”

“Let me guess, Rhysand is hiding in one of these as well.”

“High Lord-” Nest was also interrupted.

“No, that’s too beneath him. He’d rather send his dear High Lady here to do his dirty work.”

Feyre looked at him pleadingly.

“Get out.” Tarquin’s face showed no sign of backing down.

Feyre paled, “No.”

“Did I not make myself clear?”

“High Lord.” Nesta spoke up, Tarquin glaring at her instead, “We’re not here to steal from you.”

“Then are you here to have a tea party?” he laughed.

“We’re on the run.”

Tarquin raised an eyebrow, “On the run? From what?”

“From Rhysand.”

The group went quiet.

“What are you talking about?”

Nesta looked to Feyre.

I don’t know how to explain your situation.

“Rhysand used his daemati powers on me.” Feyre explained.

“What are you talk-”

“He started when I first went to the Night Court. After he showed up at mine and Tamlin’s wedding.”

“From what I heard you seemed happy to leave Tamlin.” Tarquin countered, “Didn’t he keep you trapped? You made a big deal over it.”

“I was happy to leave Tamlin.” Feyre said, “But the more time I spent with Rhysand the more he took over my mind. The less I could properly think for myself.”

Tarquin still looked skeptical.

“Please Tarquin.” Feyre begged.

My sister could beg.

Nesta had never heard her take such a pleading tone.

It clearly took Tarquin by surprise as well, his skepticism vanishing for a second. He opened his mouth to speak when a familiar dark voice greeted him, “Tarquin, long time no see.”

“Rhysand, what brings you here?” Tarquin gestured for the fae beside him to cover up the crate, plunging Nesta and her sisters into darkness.

Feyre squeezed Nyx closer to her, her eyes full of fear and quiet tears.

“Ah, I just wanted to stop by and say hello.” Rhysand’s footsteps approached the crate.

“Feyre, you need to breathe.” Nesta whispered to her sister, watching her begin to hyperventilate “You can’t let him know he’s close.”

Feyre nodded, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to remain calm, Elain doing her best to keep Nyx distracted from the situation.

“Say, you haven’t seen Feyre have you?” Rhys asked casually.

Silence.

“No, I haven’t. Why? Did you lose your wife?” Tarquin’s tone was humorous.

“Of course not.” Rhysand said, gritting his teeth, “She said she wanted to go on a walk around the town, so I was just curious if you had seen her.”

“No.” Tarquin smiled, “No, I haven’t seen her.” 

“A pity. I was thinking we could have had dinner together if she was still close by.”

“A pity indeed.”

“She probably has gone home then. I hope we’ll get to talk more another day Tarquin.”

“Have a safe trip home, Rhysand.”

The group beside the crate went quiet as Rhysand left. Once safe, Tarquin reopened the crate, “Get out.”

“Tarquin please-”

“I am not kicking you off. I am going to hide you better.”

The three let out an exhale.

“On one condition.”

“Yes?” Feyre asked tentatively.

“You get the fuck out of my court within three days of arrival.” Tarquin helped Feyre out of the crate, “If you do not, I will send sirens after you to show you the door.”

Next: Part 4