#more than the kiss even it had me on my Knees

[allhopesforlove]

Farewell, my love: part 2

Summary: In the midst of a battle, y/n realizes that their only way to victory would be through her sacrifice. Determined with her decision to lead an army of soldiers to the frontlines, there was nothing that could hold her back. Because she was sure that if she continued living on she wouldn’t survive any more of what was blooming between Elain and Azriel.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader, Azriel x Elain

Word count: 4.2K

Warnings: Angst, panic attacks, jealousy, and just more angst than before I’m sorry (not) :)

part 1

———————

He couldnt breathe. It was too much, too many feelings flooding him at once and it felt like little needles were prickling him all over his skin. It was getting hot and if he hadn’t been leaning on Elain he was sure that he would’ve actually fallen down on his knees. He was breathing faster and the constant flood of emotions and thoughts weren’t making this any better. He was scared. Scared to even think what this meant.

“Azriel, sweetheart, talk to me.. hey, hey look at me.”

But he couldn’t. He, he needed air. He needed space, because this didn’t make any sense. Why now? Why when he finally found the happiness he was looking for, for so many years? Why when he finally settled his heart for another and dared to bare his soul to her? Why now, when his fucking mate decided to take on something that’d cost her her life? Why was he put in a position where he couldn’t decide what and who to choose?

He still heard her heart, how it beat almost the same as his. Warmth spread around him and he looked up again to see the cause of all this turmoil inside of him. There, he saw her. His mate. His. Oh god, he had a mate. He felt tears already rolling down his face, but he didn’t care. Somehow, only looking at her already made him much calmer than before. She still looked at him with wide eyes as if she herself couldn’t believe what had just transpired between them and he couldn’t blame her, because neither did he. There was a sudden urge to just hold her and take away all her pain and-

“Azriel.”

He felt two soft hands cradling his face and turning it to the side to make his golden hazel eyes meet with brown ones. It caused him to break out of this bubble that was forming and he was brought back to reality. Elain, oh Elain. He- oh god- he really forgot about her for a second, because everything, well everything was so sudden and he actually didn’t mean to, because he loved Elain, with all his heart- his heart, he already gave it to her, he was hers as much as she was his- and he already felt another set of tears forming in his eyes.

“Sweetheart, I want to help you, but you have to help me here a bit yeah?” She said while looking at him with soft shiny eyes and a small smile. The smile he fell in love with.

“Try to breathe along with me.” He was still shaking as Elain lead his hand towards her chest- her heart- to make him calm down and follow the same rhythm as hers. He tried to focus, he really did, but the constant flood of emotions really distracted him. So with all his strength he breathed in and out just as Elain did. He brought his forehead towards hers and closed his eyes. In. And out.

“Just like that, you are doing so great.” He felt a kiss on his nose and he had to smile at that. He was calming down a little.

“Thank you ‘lain” he rasped out.

And when he opened his eyes, Elain looked at him with such intensity that he needed a second to think. He really does love her huh. While the heartbeat of another was becoming more silent, it still was there. He took a deep breath and took the hands on his face in his own. Looking her in the eyes, he kissed the inner part of Elain’s hands and mustered up another set of words to reassure her.

“I am feeling better.” Elain smiled at that, however the confusion was still present in her eyes, and- oh god- she didn’t make this easier for him when she looked up at him with that soft gaze.

“Would you mind sharing with me what just happened?” She asked in an almost hushed tone, as if she didn’t want the other’s around them to know.

How was he supposed to explain to her what had just happened, when he himself still hadn’t any time to think. When so many thoughts were whirling around in his head and he couldn’t grasp to control them.

Elain must’ve noticed his confusion and hesitation as she reassured him.

“Its okay you can take your time. But you really got me scared here for a second Azriel and I, I just want to help you and know if you are-“ she choked on her last words and something in him felt so bad for not telling her instantly. For not choosing her instantly. For having thoughts of another in his mind. For feeling what another woman is feeling, for hearing a heartbeat and feeling a connecting string to another and it not being her? How could he tell her that it took all the strength in him to not just turn around and walk towards his mate to hold her in his arms, while on the other hand his mind and heart is yelling at him for forgetting all the promises he made to the woman standing infront of him for a second. A second that is a second too much. Because all the space in his heart is already reserved for Elain, there shouldn’t be any space left for another. But how could he explain to Elain that with every growing second he itches to just follow his instincts.

“I know this is confusing, trust me, I- I am confused but I, I- can’t and-“ he tried to stay calm and took a breath. Elain took his hands in hers again and encouraged him to go on with her eyes whenever he felt ready.

But ready he would never be, because just as he thought that he had everything under control, something inside of him jolted and made his head turn around sharply towards y/n. Alongside that, he felt a disgusting amount of hurt rolling over him that it took his breath away.

There she stood, tears rolling down her eyes while still looking at him. While Cassian was holding her wrist and trying to turn her towards him. He saw that he was saying stuff to her, but all the voices were quieted down by that ringing noise again. Now, if only he understood that she was crying because she saw her mate seeking comfort in another woman and that Cassian, along with his other friends, was only trying to understand the situation, was trying to comfort his friend, he wouldn’t have swatted off Elain’s hand this fast. He wouldn’t have taken charge towards Cassian. No, because this? This was pure male instinct taking over him. A male was touching his mate. She was crying.

His brain screamed at him to think for a moment before he took such rash decisions, but again, the bond had just snapped and all his emotions were running high, thoughts suppressed down by instincts. So he did what every mate would’ve done in his situation. He went to protect his mate.

—————————

The last thing y/n heard was the sound of Mor’s cries and Emerie’s words, because after that everything seemed to go silent and only a ringing was heard. A ringing from her opposite site, right where Azriel was standing. So she looked at him, looked how his eyes widened and how a string was forming to connect them. No. This, this couldn’t be right?

But an overwhelming amount of woody notes hit her nose and she became painfully aware that Azriel was unconsciously sending over his emotions. So much confusion and helplessness. She… she was his mate?

She felt the tears forming in her eyes while she didn’t know how she should feel about this revelation. The shadowsinger, the one person she has loved desperately for decades, the one person whose attention she never fully got, the one standing besides another, holding her hand, that person was his mate? And the bond snapped right before she signed her death warrant? Oh how cruel. How cruel all of this was, hasn’t she suffered enough?

She felt like she couldn’t breathe, this was too much. And then Elain had to cradle her hands around his face. Her mate. She was touching her mate. She was furious, but realized too quickly that she couldn’t do anything about it. Because why did she feel less and less of Azriel’s emotions as he leaned his forehead against hers? This hurt, this hurt so much. Someone should’ve just gotten a knife and pierced it through her chest, because it would’ve promised her a less hurtful death.

This was agony, as she felt her brain carving in this sight in her memory so that she always remembered that even when the bond snapped between them, something so sacred, Azriel still chose another woman over her.

There was no place for jealousy in her when she saw Azriel placing little kisses in Elain’s hands as she only felt an enormous amount of pain and loss and grief, grief for something she didn’t have to begin with.

She felt like she was dying if it was not for Cassian noticing her sudden silence while the others were still arguing.

“Hey.. y/n, hey, what’s wrong? Hey-”

but she couldn’t hear, she couldn’t understand… why was his mate not looking at her? Why was it that another male was seeing her and not him? So she tried to look for something inside of her, she had to try breathing again, she needed to pull, pull on something.

And finally, Azriel turned her way, finally he looked at her. One moment he still had that sad look on his face when it suddenly turned into this eerie and intense gaze that felt like a predator sizing up his prey. She had never seen that look on him, his stare sending shivers down her spine. And suddenly he was moving.

—————————

His expression was carved in stone, a chilling coldness radiating from his gaze. Fists already clenched and ready to pounce on someone, feet moving with fast precision and his target clear. The bond in him shining brighter and encasing him completely. He was going to protect his mate and make the male pay for hurting her.

“Y/n you are scaring us, what’s going on- oh- Az what are you- YO WHAT THE FU-“ and Cassian felt a scrunch in his nose. But before he could stand up from the ground he felt Azriel already pouncing on him. What. the. fuck.

Azriel didn’t care. Didn’t care if the male in front of him was nearing his death with every punch he threw his way, and when he felt other arms trying to force him away from the male, he growled and felt so much strength course through his body, because no matter what, he was going to make this male pay and no one could prevent him from doing it.

No one; but apparently a strong pull within him. Because he felt his mate again and looked up instantly from the ground where he was just punching Cassian. And from this near he could see her eyes more clearly- a green color with a soft touch of brown and blue. She was ethereal and he was mesmerized by this woman standing in front of him. His mate was gorgeous. Just like that his heart started pounding faster again and for a moment he felt his ears reddening, because how could this beautiful being belong all to him?

“Are you alright?” He almost wheezed out at her, because he lost all his stamine to fight Cassian- wait. CASSIAN. Almost instantly he scrambled up and looked down to see a bloody faced Cassian laying on the ground.

“What has gotten into you Azriel?!” Rhysand screamed at him. And rightly so. The High Lord had struggled to get into his shadowsinger’s mind to yell at him to stop after he couldn’t get him off of Cassian. But he had been met with an iron wall, which is why he couldn’t reach Azriel.

“Brother I don’t know, if you just got possessed by something but damn if you needed to let off some steam, warn a guy beforehand yeah?”

Cassian tried to lighten up the mood a bit, because what had just transpired was far from normal, far from the Azriel they knew. And quite frankly it scared him and made him worry for his friend. From the corner of his eye he saw Nesta rushing out the tent she was in with what looked like some healing supplies. Thank god, he couldn’t feel his face.

Azriel looked frantic. His head was spinning and he couldn’t think clearly. What had he just done? He looked around him and saw his friends attentively staring at him, some worried, some scared of what he might do next.

“What were you even thinking?” He met the cold stare of his mate. Of y/n. God. A mate. She wiped the tears of her face with fast movements and stood tall again. And before he could respond her

“Azriel..?” And there, the voice that made his toes curl whenever he heard it. However, he wasn’t brave enough to turn around and face her. Amongst all, she had seen him do this. She had seen this side of him, but most of all she was probably confused by his actions or maybe she got a clue, he didn’t know. He needed to get out of here, but their situation didn’t really allow him, as he was reminded of their conflicting conversation before the bond snapped. As if nothing happened, as if the bond hadn’t snapped, and as if he hasn’t caused such a big scene mere minutes ago, y/n turned to Rhysand once more.

“Breaking this to the soldiers will be a tough one, I am sure all of them will understand that our charge means nothing but promised death. I just hope they’ll follow along.”

Then a pause. He saw her trembling slightly but whatever it was she snapped out of it and a deathly coldness radiated off of her.

“I will wait for your command Rhysand.” There she stood, like a perfectly trained warrior, someone who was drilled into this role.

“Y/n are you just going to ignore wh-“

“Rhysand.” She really was going to do this?

“We are in the midst of something bigger. Our enemies-” she pointed towards the Northern side, where she knew Hybern soldiers resided.

“-they won’t wait for us to take our sweet time to discuss these matters. We don’t know when they will charge next, but damn it if they get to us before we get to them, all of us will die on this battlefield, I can assure you that! We need to move and we need to do it faster than them.” She heaved out.

Rysand looked at her with an expression that pained her, he looked conflicted, like he was struggling to switch between his role’s of a brother and friend and his role as the High Lord of the Night Court.

Of course he knew that all y/n was saying was true, but damn it, he’s got the feeling that if he doesn’t interfere now, if he doesn’t press on the matter more, he would regret it for the rest of his life. That Azriel may regret it for the rest of his life. He looked at him then, at Azriel’s disheveled and unmoving form, as if he was in a trance. He waited for him to intervene again, but when nothing came out of his brother’s mouth, he made the decision.

But not before talking to his mate. Are you sure of this? She asked in his mind. We’ve got no other choice Feyre he returned sadly but determined. And then he spoke out what he always feared most towards a member of his close circle.

“You may leave whenever you feel ready. Thank you for all of your services soldier.” He had to. he needed to switch to his High Lord tone, because if he didn’t get ahold of himself it would mean their ultimate death. Of everyone.

Y/n just sharply nodded towards him, because they couldn’t do emotional farewells now, not now, when she knew that she and all the others would break down and they wouldn’t actually let her go. And by that she would just endanger the lives of everyone. She didn’t want that. So she and Rhysand had to act their roles. With that, without taking another look at her friends, she turned around and headed towards their military base.

But she was suddenly grasped by another force that turned her around once again.

“You’re insane if you think I’ll just let you go!”

The way her heart started fluttering faster when he hold her hand was almost too pathetic. However, she couldn’t do this with him. Before, this was always what she had wanted, but now… now everything has changed, she couldn’t get herself to be influenced by his sweet words.

She looked him in the eyes then.

“Please let go of me Azriel, you are making this more difficult than it already is.”

And she told him the truth. This was difficult for her. Knowing that her mate stood right before her, that she may have a chance to maybe, she didn’t know but .. but it hurt that only now, only now that he was forced by the bond he started to care for her. This is definitely not what she wanted, not this way. So against everything that the bond demanded of her, she pushed his hand out of the way, but he grabbed for her again.

“Difficult? I am making this difficult? Are you out of your mind? So you want me to stand here as if nothing happened between us? As if we aren’t-“

“Don’t end your sentence shadowsinger.” And he looked pained that y/n almost surrendered to kiss his frown away and take away all the sadness in his eyes. She snapped out of it. She couldn’t do this to him.

“You want to act like I belong to you all of a sudden? Who gives you the right to tell me what or what not to do? I made my decision, end of discussion. So now if you would please kindly let go of my hand.”

But he didn’t. Rather he strengthened his grip around her.

“Y/n, I understand that this is very bad timing, I understand your anger, but we need to talk about this before you make decisions of life and death, don’t you understand!”

He was trying so hard to find the right words, afraid of saying something that may aggravate the situation even more. Afraid of losing his mate before even having a chance at life with her. God, he still couldn’t believe it.

“Okay, then I got a question for you and you have to be honest with me.”

She needed to stop, she needed to stop self sabotaging herself.

“Ask me and I’ll answer truthfully y/n, I swear it to you.”

He didn’t know what came over him, but all he wanted for now was bring his mate back to safety, have more time to think this through more thoroughly.

“You want me to come back with you, but can you actually promise me that you are going to accept this bond with me? Are you actually going to leave Elain for me? Someone you chose out of love rather than obligation? Be truthful shadowsinger.”

Whatever he expected her to ask him, it wasn’t this. He- no he, he couldn’t make that decision now, not now, he needed more time to think, for the past minutes he hasn’t been in his right mind so how .. how could he possibly answer her without giving her false hopes.

“I…” and he looked into her pain filled eyes. He visibly shook as he felt her side of the bond. He was causing this pain?

“Y/n, you need to understand that I can’t- I can’t promise you that now. I don’t want to hurt you, but Elain she-“ he thought of choosing his words carefully “We have been together for a while now, and I can’t lie to you that I suddenly stopped loving her because the bond snapped. I am confused and I need more time-“

she gasped at that and god he wished he could make this easier, could prevent her from getting hurt

“-and I am aware that this is the most selfish I can get. Please, just, please don’t go there-“

her tears were already falling uncontrollably and he couldn’t hold back his own ones. He wished someone just ended him right then and there, so that he hadn’t had to see the agony in her eyes.

“-please allow me to just have more time so that I can sort this all out, I don’t want to hurt any of you, it is the last thing I want-“

“Do you actually hear yourself?” she whispered in a tone that made him want to stab himself for making her sound so helpless.

“Do you hear how selfish you are? I tell you what shadowsinger, if I can’t be your first choice I dont want to be a choice at all. I have loved you for so many years already, I have desperately wanted what you gave other women in your life, but if a bond is what gets you acting all caring towards me, then you can go to hell with that.”

What.

She loved him?

How come he never noticed her, how did he let it get to this point?

“… for how long?” he asked with widened eyes.

He was scared of the answer and judging by her reaction it wasn’t something he was prepared for.

“Too long for me to count.”

She sounded almost resigned, almost like she just wanted to be put out of her misery.

She felt the stares of the others, so she looked behind Azriel and saw how everyone was holding their breaths and waiting for something to happen.

One piece of eyes, however, pierced through her, one pair of hurtful glassy eyes that made y/n happy and sad at the same time. But she couldn’t blame the woman, and to be honest, she couldn’t blame Azriel as well. They chose each other and she was the other woman. She tried to stay calm.

“Azriel… you have to forgive me for my outburst, but try to see it from my perspective. I know our situation isn’t quite fair, but we can’t choose fate. This is where it has brought us. Do yourself and everyone a favor and go back to your woman. She is waiting for you.”

It took everything in her to choose these words, to fight against her will, to fight against her desires, her want to sling her arms around him and claim him for herself, to show everyone that he belonged to her as much as she belonged to him, to love and care for him how she had wanted to for so many years. To look him in the eyes and and declare her love to him and to finally feel that mouth of his on hers to test if it tasted how she had always imagined.

But she couldn’t.

While her words pierced through his soul, his grip on her loosened and she took this as her chance.

“I am sorry, I wish.. I just wish I could have been better, but- but y/n this doesn’t mean that you have to die for this.”

“I’d rather not live when my mate loves and nurtures another, Azriel, so please forgive me for-“

“But you don’t know what the future holds!”

She applauded his resilience and to be frank she didn’t expect this much fight for her from him, but it still wasn’t enough.

“Dont act like you would actually choose me Shadowsinger, you never did.”

And with that she broke the last piece of his soul that was still standing. Because, because she was right. He never chose her so why would she believe him? This beautiful, strong woman in front of him, who has carried so much hurt because of him, was he selfish for asking her to live?

He was numb. And he just wanted this anguish to end. A sudden hand on his shoulder made him jolt, while he heard y/n talk again.

“Let go of me, let go of that little piece of me that has formed in the past minutes. It will be easier this way.” Y/n told him with resignation.

No he- he couldn’t do that, this couldn’t be the end for them. He wanted to step forward but the hand on his shoulder held him back, so he wanted to swat it off, because he had to get to his mate.

But another pair of hands was stopping his way to his mate, so now he got really irritated and tried to fight them off.

“Get your fucking hands off of me-“ and his vision suddenly became blurry as he heard his High Lord’s voice in his mind you need to let her go, she has already made a decision for herself. No, no! He was not letting her walk off to her death, he-

and while he tried to fight off every force trying to hold him back from her, he heard her distant voice Farewell, Azriel.

From the corner of his eyes he saw her blurry form walk off and disappear from his vision.

—————————

A/n: Whewww here is the second part! I never imagined I would go this direction or this far with the story but here we are 😭 First of all I want to thank everyone for your sweet reactions to the first part, this really means a lot to me, because this is my first time writing ever so thank you for your kind words <3 Secondly, I hope this was what you expected for the continuation of the story and that I didn’t leave you hanging. I am also open for any ideas and suggestions, so please don’t shy away from suggesting <3 The third part will probably come out a bit later than this as I have to focus on uni stuff again, but dont worry I wont leave this story as it is!

Again if you have some feedback, I would love to read what you think, and if you want to be added to the taglist just inform me :)

Oh and please tell me if the taglist worked!

Tag list:

@kingshitonly @phoenix666stuff @blackgirlmagicforever @dragonsandrinks @daughterofthemoons-stuff @tele86 @isa1b2h3 @curlyhairkk @jencole214 @willowpains @thestartitaness @romantasyreader28 @highladyofhogwarts @wrenisrad @minaaminaa8 @meritxellao @blepskies

[idstilldancewithu]

Midnight Pleasure | S.R

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Hotchner Reader

Summary: The reader and Spencer's sleep is interrupted in the middle of the night when she gets a call from her ex boyfriend, provoking Spencer to reveal the hidden feelings he's had all along.

Warnings: Spencer gets jealous/possessive over reader, age gap (20/30), soft dom Spence, he calls her baby/pretty girl, slight angst with a happy ending, fingering, fem!receiving, oral, Reid basically eats you out while you’re talking to your ex, Y/N’s ex is a jerk, unprotected sex, possession kink, Reid makes the reader beg, cream pie (kind of), Spencer confesses his feelings, and is bit insecure. Sorry, if I missed anything.

A/N: This is the last part of Forbidden Request. The words in italic represents the reader’s ex speaking to her. English is not my first language. Enjoy!

Word count: 1,121

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

•••

The sound of my phone ringing woke me up. I declined the call without even looking at the caller ID and went back to cuddling Spencer, careful not to wake him up.

Pressing my body against his, seeking the warmth and comfort only he could bring me.

I clung to him tighter, knowing that the second we stepped foot out of this bed we would go back to being just friends. When the sun rises, this moment will only be a memory imprinted in my brain.

A reminder of what could have been, if Spencer Reid saw me as something more than a twenty year old girl asking her friend to take away her virginity. To him it was only a favor, but to me it meant everything.

My phone rang again snapping me out of my thoughts. I grabbed it, sitting with my knees pulled up out of habit.

"Y/N? It's me, Jeremy." 

"Why are you calling me at two in the morning?" I asked irritably.

Spencer stirred beneath me, his eyes fluttering open with confusion as he reached over to turn on the bedside lap, light filling up the room.

"I miss you."

"Well, I don't." I snapped, slightly raising my voice annoyed that he had the audacity to call me.

"Who is it?" Spencer asked, glancing my way.

"Jeremy" I mouthed. He tensed up at the mention of his name and quickly positioned himself between my legs, spreading them apart, making eye contact with me in the process.

"Look, I'm sorry. Please give me another chance," he begged, his voice reeking with desperation.

"Jeremy, you called me a Prude because I didn't want to have sex with you."

Spencer slowly started leaving a trail of kisses up my leg, making my anger fade away in seconds and my breath deepen.

"Look, I'm sorry, but do you really think another guy is going to want you, knowing that you have zero experience? You have nothing to offer, and you should be thankful that I'm calling you right now."

Spencer's fingertips grazed the sides of my hips, delicately pulling down my underwear, and throwing it on the bedroom floor.

Without any warning he buried his face between my wet folds, flicking his tongue against my clit.

Before I could process what Jeremy was even saying, a moan escaped from my lips.

I let my phone fall from my grasp, gripping Spencer's hair instead and pulling him closer to my heat.

"Y/N, where are you? Are you seriously with another guy right now?" Jeremy’s voice sounded distant and faint.

Spencer pulled away from my glistening cunt, and grabbed the phone that was beside me putting it on speaker phone, pumping two of his finger in and out of my soaking folds.

"Spencer." I whimpered, feeling his fingers reach spots that I couldn't with my own.

"Y/N, answer me," My ex demanded.

"Sorry, Y/N can't come to the phone right now—she's busy." Spencer hanged up and continued fucking me with his fingers, increasing the speed each time.

My cunt started clenching around his fingers, I was close to reaching my peak.

"That's it baby, let go for me." At his command, I came on his fingers making my legs tremble.

He cradled my face with his hands and pressed a consuming kiss to my lips, gently biting my bottom lip.

Spencer broke the kiss by leaving a trail of kisses down my neck, sucking my flesh ensuring that he left marks behind.

Then, he stopped to admire what he had just done, and my disheveled state.

"Get on all fours."

I obeyed and internally smiled with excitement knowing that he was going to ruin me.

He grabbed the ends of hair, pulling my head back. "You look so pretty like this. All ready and willing, just for me to use."

"Spencer." I gasped, clenching around nothing.

Without any warning he buried his throbbing length in me not moving his hips.

Desperately wanting to relief the tension in between my legs, I arched my back and moved backwards.

But, he grabbed my hips, ensuring I couldn't move an inch. “If you want me to move you're gonna have to beg."

"Please, I need you. Please—move,” I croaked out.

"Just cause you asked so nicely” he said, while driving into me with abandon.

"Do you really think another boy could make you feel the way I do? What do you think Jeremy would say if he saw you like this, begging me to fuck you?" He said, jealousy dripping from his tone.

"No, Spencer, no one else will ever make me feel the way you do,” I sincerely responded, knowing that every word that slipped from his mouth was true.

He's thrust quickened, and I could feel his cock hitting my g-spot.

Spencer placed his hand on my stomach. "Do you feel how deep I'm in you? You're mine. Not Jeremy’s or anyone else’s but mine."

I could feel myself clenching around him, getting closer to my release. He noticed and started circling my clit.

"I'm yours, Spence."

“Baby, you feel so good,” he whimpered.

"Come for me, pretty girl. Let everyone know how good—I’m making you feel."

I came mumbling his name, and seconds later his cock twitched in my cunt, shooting his load in me chanting my name in the process.

He slipped out of me, and I laid down on the bed.

Spencer laid beside me trying to catch his breath, his body facing mine.

"Was I too rough? Did I hurt you? I'm sorry. I got carried away—”

"You didn’t hurt me, Spencer. I liked it." I said, running my hands through his air reassuringly.

"Y/N, I meant every word I said. I know you asked me to sleep with you as a friend, but I want be so much more than that.” He paused, placing a gentle kiss to my forehead.

“The thought of you being with someone else physically pains me. I don't want to wait around wondering what could’ve happened if you loved me. I understand if you just want to be friends, but I truly wish we could be more.”

His confession took my breath away, but happiness overflowed my senses. He did want me, after all.

"I would really like that, Spence.” I responded, placing a soft kiss on the side of his neck.

"Are you sure? Cause after women orgasm they release a hormone called oxytocin, making them feel a deeper connection to their partner—”

I silenced him by placing my lips on his in a kiss full of love and adoration. He smiled into the kiss, wrapping his arms around my waist pulling me closer.

•••

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

[krosiefics]

i worship you • bang chan

MDNI 18+

Synopsis: Chris comes home from work insecure about himself after trying a new style of makeup at work. So you show him just how beautiful and perfect he is in your eyes.

WC: 1.5k

Tags: SMUT!! afab!reader, sub!chan, softdom,reader, BODY WORSHIP, cunnilingus, face riding, hickeys, grinding, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it plz), hair pulling(?), breeding kink, creampie, petnames (baby, babe, love, good boy), chan is insecure (*cue WMYB by 1D*), probably forgetting some sorry…

It’s almost midnight when your boyfriend arrives back home to the dorms. You’ve been waiting since ten for him to come home. Knowing that Jeongin would be gone, staying the night at Felix and Seungmin’s, you decided to lounge around in just one of Chan’s t-shirts.

Suddenly, the door of the dorm creaks open. Your beautiful boyfriend walks through the door. You turn your head with a smile, but it’s quickly wiped off when you see the scowl he wore. “Baby, what’s wrong.” You pout, brows furrowing. “Nothing, we just tried a different makeup style earlier today…”

“And?”

“And it looked so bad on me,” Chan groans, his hand flying up to his face, “everyone said it looked good, but that was only true for the kids. I looked horrible.”

It’s not often Chan openly is insecure, but weirdly you like that he’s able to tell you his insecurities. It shows just how much he trusts you. “Baby,” you rise from the couch, engulfing him in a hug, “you’re so handsome. It couldn’t have been bad. Do you have a picture?” Chan’s scowl deepens, “Yeah, but I don’t want you to see me like that-” You give him a look and he quiets, handing you his phone.

You unlock the device and go to the photos app. And there behold was the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your life. Chan had a faux lip ring, smokey eye shadow, his plump lips stained a nude pink, and his nose contoured perfectly. God you could eat this man up, you wanted to do badly.

Chan avoided watching your face, pouting over the thought of you disgusted by the makeup.

You slowly place the phone on the counter before taking his hand and leading him towards the couch. “It’s bad, I kno-” You cut him off with a kiss. When you pull back, you cup his cheeks in your hands. “You’re so fucking hot and it’s so fucking frustrating that you don’t see it!” Chan’s face flushed bright red, down his neck. Your hands still cupped his cheeks as you stared into his eyes. “You’re just saying that cause you’re my girlfriend.”

You raise your brow at him to which he slightly cowers.

“And being your girlfriend means I should be honest and tell the truth…no?” Chan gulps, his eyes glancing quickly to your lips. He goes to lean it but you stop him by pulling away. “Tsk, tsk,” you shake your head, “why didn’t you like the makeup?” Your tone suddenly shifts. Chan very clearly feels vulnerable but he trusts you. “The eye makeup makes my eyebags more evident, and the nose contour makes my nose look even bigger than it is.” Chan frowns, eyes looking anywhere but you.

This time a frown makes its way onto your face. “Babe,” you sigh. Your eyes scan his face, traces of makeup that hadn’t been properly removed still lingering on his soft skin. A small bit of eyeshadow smudged along the corner of his eye messily. Fuck he looks hot. You think to yourself. Chan flinches when you suddenly press a kiss at the corner of his eye, down his cheek and back to his lips. You nudge him onto the couch. Tumbling over when the back of his knees hits the cushion causing you to land on top of him.

“What are you?” He asks before you start lifting the hem of his shirt up. Chan goes to slip it over his head but you stop him, leaving the material to rest just above his pecs. “Fucking hell.” You curse under your breath at the sight of your beautiful boyfriend under you, face, ears, and chest flushed, as you stared down at him with hungry eyes. “Oh fuck,” Chan groans when you lean down and pepper kisses along his chest, your tongue flicking at his hardened bud every now and then. “Love,” his hands reach for your face to pull you away, but you don’t let him. Simply staring up from your position, “Channie, I’m gonna take care of you tonight…yeah?”

Chan swears his heart stops. Not in a bad way. But in an “oh my god I love this woman so much” kind of way. You’ve never been shy about showing him love, whether that be through kisses on his body or simply just being with him in every moment. Excitement floods through Chan’s body as you roll your hips on top of his. “You’re gonna be the death of me you know that?” He chuckles breathily. You smirk to yourself, Chan growing needy and desperate under your touch.

Suddenly, you swing your legs over off his lap. Chan goes to pull you back but you stop him, telling him to stay still. You shimmy your panties off, tossing them somewhere to the side. “Can you close your eyes for me baby?” You quip. The curly haired boy blinks up at you with confusion, though nonetheless obliging. Chan trusts you, and you know that.

With his eyes being closed all his other senses are heightened. Chan feels how the sofa cushion dips slightly by his head, hears the rustling of your shirt coming from above him, smells the scent of your arousal. The feeling of your throbbing cunt teasing his mouth prompts him to dart his tongue out, licking a stripe up your leaking cunt. “Woah,” you whimper at the sudden feeling. “You gonna let me ride your face and show you how much I love you?” Chan whines against your heat, the vibrations coursing through your pussy.

You set a pace, grinding against his face, his perfect nose poking at your clit each time you thrust yourself. “Fuck, I love your mouth.” You throw your head back in ecstasy, “How you’re licking me clean- oh my god…your nose- ugh, rubbing against my clit- oh my fuck.” You manage between moans, that familiar knot growing in your abdomen. Chan is a whimpering mess under you as you tug in his curly strands. His eyes still shut tight. Your body enveloping him, his senses overloaded. God he could die between your legs.

You near your climax but force yourself off of his mouth before you could let go. Chan pouts at the loss, his eyes fluttering open. Fuck. You bite your lip. His chin is smothered in your arousal, eyes glossy, chests heaving up and down as he tries to catch his breath. God he looked ethereal. “You’re so pretty baby, all mine.” You hum, positioning yourself on his thighs. Your hand slithers down his sweatpants, tugging him out of his boxers. Pumping his throbbing hot cock in your hand, you feel as it twitches in your hand.

You glance up at the boy. Chan’s already staring down at you, his eyes full of anticipation. You drag your thumb along his slit prompting him to buck his hips upwards. “Sorry.” He mumbles, his face turning a slightly darker shade of pink- if that's even possible. You grin teasingly at your boyfriend. As much as you want to drag the teasing on, you’re quickly growing needy. You settle back up on his hips, rutting your wet folds along his shaft, coating it with your arousal, smearing the precum that’s leaking out of him.

“Baby please.” Chan breathes shakily, the feeling of his dick twitching against your core emits a grunt out of you. You sigh at the pleading boy, “You’ve been a good boy for me yeah?” Chan’s body stiffens under you, you feel like you’ve crossed a line- well not until you notice how he bites his lower lip and how more precum leaks from his cock. You smirk. “I guess you can get what you deserve.” With that, you slide his long cock inside your soaking cunt, sucking him in.

Chan groans as your warmth surrounds him. Spews of pleas and whimpers flood from his mouth as you bounce up and down his cock. His hands fly to your hips to keep you stable and offer some support. Chan’s head is slanted slightly, his clean neck and exposed. “Ah, fuck.” He hisses, a sharp pain tingling at his neck where you just bit him. You suck the spot, licking over it before continuing to mark up his neck. “You’re so handsome, gorgeous, fucking beautiful.” You mewl, his cock hitting your g spot directly.

“God I’m gonna cum.” He whines from underneath. “Yeah, baby? You’ve been such a good boy, I’m gonna let you fill me up yeah? Gonna fill my pussy with your seed?” You babble as your orgasm hits you like a truck, legs shaking besides Chan’s. The feeling of you clenching around him causes Chan to spill over the edge. His warm cum filling you to the brim.

The two of you lay on each other, catching your breath. You rest your chin on your chest and you can hear his heartbeat. “I love you.” Chan peers down at you with a grateful smile, “Love you too. Thanks by the way. I really needed that.” You hug him tightly, leaving a soft peck on his cheek. “It’s true, you know. I really do think that about you.” Flustered, Chan looks away again, though, a small grin shines on his face as he holds you closer.

🔖 @katsukis1wife @pixie0627

[songbirdmunson]

Vιԃҽσ Gαɱҽʂ

eddie munson x afab!reader

based off this little idea I had

• wordcount: 1.1K

18+ only or I will break your knees (lovingly) explicit content ahead, if you don’t wish to see don’t read! Steve Harrington is mentioned more than once. voyeurism sex with Eddie. enjoy!

“Can you even hear a word I’m saying right now?” Your boyfriend's silence answers the question for you as you roll your eyes, crossing your arms in front of you. You are all for him getting some time to unwind but lately he’s been glued to his Xbox, playing some new game with Steve that you couldn’t care to remember the name of. He’s oblivious to your frustration as he chats away with Steve, only pausing to take a sip of the Mountain Dew he keeps in his chalice on his desk.

You walk over slowly behind him, looking at the screen as he and Steve fight off zombies, any other day you’d let him play and you’d go do your thing. Today, you wanted attention, and you were going to get it, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind. “Eddie baby?” You whisper, leaning down where your head is next to his, you can hear Steve on the other end cackling about something. You poke your boyfriend in the side but he just shoos you off, not even turning to look at you.

‘He’s turning into an addict.’ You think to yourself as you finally walk yourself around his chair, stopping right in front of him. “Hey!! What are you doing babe?!” He all but shrieks out as you look down at him, smirking evilly. “Getting what I deserve Eddie.” You mumble, running your finger down the side of his face as he lets out a complaint about how you just made him die, poor thing. That will be the farthest thought in his mind in a few seconds.

Your fingers fumble with his belt, pulling it through the loops before you’re throwing it behind you. Eddie looks down at you, his eyebrows shooting up underneath his bangs. “Babe… oh Jesus Christ.” He moans out as you kiss the tip of his cock through his boxers, your fingers grip deliciously into the meat of his thighs as he rips his headset off, slamming it down onto his desk so hard you don’t know how it didn’t break.

“You wanted my attention, hmm? Little brat couldn’t even make it an hour without needing me down their throat, that’s kinda gross baby.” He growls out, his thick fingers winding their way into your hair as he pulls you down closer to where he needs you the most. You go brainless as you pull his dick out of his pants slowly, it’s so pretty, his piercing shimmering on top only makes it better. You spit onto your hand slowly before wrapping it back around the base, twisting slowly before you begin to move it up and down at an agonizingly slow pace.

“You’d rather pay attention to zombies than this baby? Are you crazy?” You ask, pouting up at him as he leans his head back, a loud moan slips its way past his beautiful lips. Nobody is thinking about poor Steve on the other end of the headset, his face is beet red and his pants tight, but that would be a worry for later. “N-No, fuck, would much rather watch you use that sinful mouth of yours baby, all day.” He chokes out, the air leaving his body almost completely as you spit down onto the head, you smile up at him one more time before you dive down like you’re starved and his dick is the best meal on earth.

Shuffling forward you go down as far as you can, choking slightly as Eddie lets out another beautiful noise. You had him exactly how you wanted, he’s like putty as he sinks down into his chair. His hips are soon bucking against your face, incoherent mumbling and praises are tumbling out of his mouth as the coarse hair beneath his cock scratches against your face. It’s all thrilling, the smell of him, how he tastes, the realization that Steve and any of his other friends that are playing with him can hear you pleasuring him right now. It almost has you wanting to cum in your jeans.

You pop off only for a second, catching some air as you lick your lips slowly. “Want me to ride you in your little gaming chair?” You tease mockingly as he nods, his hair is everywhere, tangled up from where he’s been pulling on it, slightly sticking to his face from the sweat beads that are rolling down his forehead. You know they would taste delicious too, everything about Eddie does. You waste no time as soon as he gives you the go to get on him you’re pushing your pants down to your knees, your underwear are only pulled to the side as you turn around facing away from him.

Just having him in your mouth already has you wet enough that you don’t need to prep, you turn your head around over your shoulder, smiling at him wickedly before you sink down onto him. You bite back a moan as his dick stretches you out, you and Eddie had done this so many times but you’d honestly never get used to how thick he is. It’s absolutely perfect, every ridge of the veins rubbing against you in the right way, every time you go back down the head rubs against the spot that has your legs turning into jelly. “Please baby… think I’m gonna cum.. fuck!” His big hands are holding onto your hips loosely, you know his brain is so pussy whipped he can't even think straight right now.

“Next time you even think about ignoring me for your little zombies I want you to remember this baby, you understand?” You scold him, grinding your hips in a circle as you feel him shaking beneath you. “Y-yes! Yes! Promise I’ll remember, I’m sorry, fuck I’m sorry please baby right there oh my fucking go-od.” This man is down bad, you laugh a little as you lift up and down only a few more times before he breaks, you keep yourself still, feeling his cock twitching inside you as he lets out profanities that you weren’t even sure existed. “Fuck… such a good boy, filling me up. I’m so proud of you.” You coo, lifting yourself up slowly, his softening dick falling out of you, you can feel his cum leaking out and sticking to your thighs.

You lean back against Eddie, smiling before turning his face to kiss him a few times. “That was better than any of your games.” You say confidently, grabbing his headset and slipping it on. “Hey Steve, he’s all yours now hun, have fun killing Zombies.” You say, laughing wildly as Eddie’s face heats up. Steve cums in his pants that day, and he’s not even ashamed.

taglist ahead, thanks for reading! 💗

@loserboysandlithium @runningupthatvecna @wolfqueenxxx @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @magicalmysterytour13 @woahlifehitsyahuh @hellfiremunsonn @eddiemunsonfuxks @ali-r3n @guiltyasquinn @beep-beep-sherlock @barnes-bestgirl @edsstrawberryjam @micromoose @3rd-conchord @mamakitty187 @comeonatmebruh @bcmbiquinn @seatnights @scorpiosapphire @berilynzoe @floredaqueen @melodymunson @rafescorpsebride @bloodibambiidoll @gri959 @munsongirly @londonfog-chan @quinnyficsy @hauntedfawnn

[sturnslutz]

mustang baby.

please don't read if you are uncomfortable with the slight topic of disobeying religion.

after school, matt and you texted a bit, just telling him where you live at and the subtle flirting, more so coming from him. matt had texted you about 10 minutes ago that he was 15 min away, so that gives you about 5 more minutes to recollect yourself.

you wore a simple pink dress, that was a little short, but it wasn't like he was taking you to a restaurant, he was probably just going to drive around, smoke a bit, and then go to his house.

to say you were nervous was a understatement. matt had this energy that made you more shy than you actually were. while you were trying to collect your thoughts, your phone rang.

you looked over, it was matt. you picked it up.

"hey pretty. 'm outside."

"okay, im coming."

you heard him hum in response, so you hungup and got into your shoes. you walked out of your house and was met with a 1965 ford mustang. you smiled at the car, admiring it as he got out of the driver's seat, walking to the other side and opening the door for you.

"hey, baby. go ahead." he smirked at you, kissing your head as you smiled and muttered a small, "hi" back to him. you got into the warm car and was overcome quickly by the lingering smell of weed.

he closed the door, being mindful of your knees before, walking back to his side. he slid back in, sighing, and starting the car. the heater turned on, and the soft music of deftones filled the car.

"y'comfy?" he asked as he turned his head to you, while starting to drive the car out of your neighborhood. "yeah, very." you smiled softly at him, before he nodded, paying his attention back to the road.

"y'look really good. i like this dress." he said softly, reaching his hand over, tugging the edge of the dress softly, causing a chill to run through you. "really? thank you. i didn't know if it was too immodest or anything." you admit, your voice getting a bit louder than your whispers before.

you heard matt laugh softly and scoff. "immodest? baby, i'ont care about that. look at me, im the definition of that shit. you religious or sum?" you laugh softly at his response. "kinda. i don't really know. my parents are, but i'm not too interested in it." he nodded, understanding.

"mmm, alright. i get that. so like you a virgin or somethin'?" he asks, more calm than before, but now looking at you for your response. "um, yeah. i haven't done anything before, actually. i haven't even had my first kiss or held hands with anyone. except like my mom, i guess."

his eyebrows raise in a bit of shock at your admission. "really? that's kinda crazy. not to you, but it's like now kinda hard to find someone who hasn't done a single thing. it's not bad though, baby. y'just saving yourself for someone special, huh?"

you nod in response to his question. you would never admit this to him, but you would be more than glad to allow him to do everything to you. even if you didn't know what "everything" was, you would allow him to do it.

he nods back to you, redirecting his attention back to the road, letting his right hand fall on your thigh, starting to rub your thigh softly. "this okay?" "y-yeah."

he smirks as he feels goosebumps rise on your skin, as he leans his hand farther down into your thigh, now rubbing your inner thigh so close to the point you needed him, but he didn't know that yet.

he pulled up to a well known park in downtown boston and parked underneath some trees. he turned off the engine, but making no move to get out. "are we gonna go outside?" you say softly, looking over to him. he shook his head, rubbing your thigh still.

"nah, i jus' wanted to come and smoke a bit. i jus' wanna talk. we gonna head back to my house though and we can chill if you want." he says softly as he pulls a joint and lighter out of his pocket. he pulls his hand away from your thigh to help him light it.

smoke filled the car as he rolled down his window a bit to not suffocate the both of you. you both remained in silence as his hand falls back down to your thigh. "y'good?" he says, smoke flowing out of his mouth. you nod and hum back in response. you eye the blunt in his mouth, which catches his attention. "here. open your mouth. y'know what shotgunning is? not the beer kind." you shake your head no, and he grabs your jaw softly, pulling you closer to him.

"y'okay with me kissing you?" he asks softly, making sure. your eyes widen a bit as the thought rings through your mind, before nodding. he smirks, taking a hit and leaning his mouth to you, your lips touching as smoke fills your mouth. you're caught off guard as he mutters a soft, "inhale f'me." against your mouth before pulling away.

you do so, and blow the smoke out. he smirks as he rubs your jaw softly, pulling you to him again, but his blunt dangling from his left hand. he kisses you softly, and you do the same, following his movements. he notices you becoming more into it, so he lets his tongue run against your lip, which you open your mouth to, letting his tongue into your mouth.

his grip on your jaw becomes a bit tighter, as he kisses you with more passion. you continue to follow his movements, creating a perfect sync between the two of you. he pulled away from you, both of you desperate for air. he smirks at you, once he realizes he was your first kiss.

he leans back in his seat, letting his hand come off your jaw, falling back to your thigh. he pulls the blunt back to his lips, the smoke filling the car once again. you sit back in your seat, your face flushed. you just had your first kiss with matt sturniolo.

some time passes as you calm into the slight high you were experiencing. "so why'd you transfer to shs?" you say without a thought before.

he sighed before speaking. "i got expelled out of full circle. some dumb shit. so me and my brothers switched to shs." you nodded. "your brothers are chris and nick, right?" he nods, looking at you. "y'know them?" "yeah, me and nick have art together and me and chris have a couple classes together. im friends with both of them."

"a'ight. yeah, i figured they would like you. i also heard people refer to you as 'angel.' that what you go by?" you shrug softly. "yeah. no one really calls me my actual name besides teachers and my parents sometimes. you can call me it too." he laughs softly.

"oh, trust me i will. it's a hot name for you." you roll your eyes, smiling at his teasing. his blunt died out, so he started his engine again. "m' good at driving, trust me. we'll be good."

he started driving home, and his house wasn't that far from the park. he pulled into his driveway, shutting off his engine. his hand patted your thigh before getting out of the car, walking over to your side and opening your door.

you got out of the car, stretching. he put his hand on your back, following next to you as the both of you walked up to his door. "my parents aren't home, but my brothers are." you smiled at the thought of your friends being there, and nodded. he opened the door, allowing you to go first.

chris was on the couch and looked up to the door and his eyes lit up. "angel? what are you doing here?" he got up and walked over, giving you a friendly hug. "we're hanging out." matt replied for you. you didn't see, but chris gave him a confused look. "angel, nick is in his room, lemme talk to matt real quick. his room is down the hall over there." chris said to you softly, pointing to the hall. you nodded, walking over and making your way to nick's room, talking to him.

once chris noticed you closed nick's door, he looked back at matt. "what the fuck? you aren't getting with her." matt scoffed as he leaned against the wall next to him. "yeah, right. like i listen to you. it's not like i'm gonna hurt her. at least not that i plan to anytime soon." chris rolls his eyes at this, knowing matt's reputation.

"angel's gonna fall for you. y'know that. you're gonna fuck her and leave. i know how you are, matt. you can't do that to her." matt quickly defended himself. "you don't know shit about me, chris. we might be brothers, but you don't know how my mind works. i might be a piece of shit, but i'm not gonna hurt her."

"whatever." chris rolls his eyes and walks away from matt. matt makes his way to nick's room. "c'mon angel, let's go to my room." you nodded, getting up off of nick's bed, and walking out. matt showed you to his room, closing the door.

he fell onto his bed, dragging you with him. you got comfortable next to him, getting under his blanket. he kissed your lips softly, which you reciprocated. his hand rubbed your covered hip softly. he pulled his lips away from you, rubbing your cheek. "m' not gonna do anything else with you, tonight. i wanna keep your innocence a bit longer."

you nodded at this, kissing his lips once again. after a bit, he pulled away again. "y'sleeping over?" you hummed, nodding. "yeah, my parents are out of town. i don't have any extra clothes though." he shook his head, standing up and walking to his dresser. "here. wear some of my clothes." he handed you a clean shirt and some of his boxers. he turned around as you begin changing.

"im done." he turned back around, smirking at the sight of you in his clothes. he grabbed your dress, throwing it into his hamper, making a silent reminder to wash it and give it back.

he leaned back down next to you, and you rested your head against his shoulder. he let his hand fall onto your back, rubbing it softly. he noticed your breathing get slower over time as you fell asleep, and he allowed himself to sleep too.

sure he was a dirtbag, but he didn't want to hurt you.

@muwapsturniolo @lovergirl4gracieabrams @m4ttg1rl @lypsiiii @tyummyz @sturniqlo @emely9274 @shadowthesim @mattsobvimyfav @sturnl0ve @wastelandzella @fallininlust @chrisslut04 @angeliijay12-blog @sophand4n4 @vainilladollie @slutforchrissturniolo2 @ncm9696 @snoopychris @sofieeeeex @chr0mehrts @cockettechris @iloveduckssm @stvrnioloslvt @sturn777 @priscillaog @allylovescody @sturniolo101 @mattybsgroupie comment to be added or removed.

[fadingdaggerr]

hiii! can you write mel x reader where reader is a baseball player that's why melissa's no. 1 choice of melee weapon is a baseball bat l

also, i looooove your writing style. i love details sm, i feel like the readers can connect more with what they're reading that way. and happy holidazee!!

strike and sink

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above! | 4.3k

includes: r has some anger issues, author clearly never did team sports

warnings: touch of violence, kissing/making out

note: i genuinely know NILCH about baseball. i was a competitive fighter this is not my strong suit okay. everyone hold hands, we’re gonna pretend any of this makes sense together.

The slowly warming spring air was a relief of the bitter winter that plagued the city for months. The ice is gone, grey skies clearly to the scenic blue, the streets becoming more active as people pull themselves out of a small hibernation. It’s invigorating for Melissa, practically skipping towards the main door of work, happy to not have the chill making her knees stiff.

The morning had given her too much pep, noticeable even to her as she tries to fight a smile that won’t quit. Part of the day's comfort seems to radiate off of her. From her warm bed, to the warm shower, to the warm body that joined her, now in the warm air around her. A sheer joy and excitement stay around Melissa as she treks through the halls of Abbott.

After dropping her things off in her classroom, she makes her way towards the lounge to find Barbara and the rest. Pushing through the door, she hears Janine and Jacob talking about something she has no interest in, Barbara off towards the television to gaze at Jim Gardener.

Melissa feels like Coke and Mentos as she pours herself a cup of coffee, trying to get her routine out the way before she snaps. When the morning update ends, and her other half reunites with her at the table, her resolve cracks.

Turning in her chair to address the room, she asks, “who’s got plans Saturday?”

“Well me and Gregory were go-” Janine begins.

“Cancel it!” Melissa says, pointing at her grade partner with a smile, “we’re going to a baseball game.”

“The Phillies?! I didn’t think they were playing this weekend?” Jacob guffaws.

Melissa’s face pinches up briefly, “no, dingbat. It’s a minor league game. Got some free tickets to spare and I’m feeling charitable.”

The younger teachers, to their credit, hide their confusion at Melissa’s excited offer. Never once did they imagine that she would care for minor league anything, but free is free. The three nod together in excitement, knowing better than to question anything. The grin on Melissa’s face makes it even more worth it to them, not used to that level of outward happiness.

“I’m in! But you’re buying me a corndog, Schemmenti!” Ava announces over the intercom, making everyone roll their eyes in time with their amused grins.

Barbara looks at the lingering smile on her friend’s face, letting out a low, knowing hum at the expression. Green eyes snap her way with a squint, silently telling her to not say anything. The kindergarten teacher just raises her hands in surrender, shaking her head with a playful look.

Taking her suspicious look back, Melissa brings her attention to her phone. Propping her glasses on her nose, she opens her texts.

Gonna need 6 tickets at the booth.

Your reply comes quickly, as if you already knew what she’d say.

Amore: already there. under “sexiest woman alive and co.”

You’re an idiot.

Amore: and yet you beg for me. a conundrum, truly

Melissa rolls her eyes, swiping her hand over her face as she tries to hide the schoolgirl smile stretching across her face. Answering will only encourage you further, and she will be damned if she’s caught blushing like a tomato over a silly text. Instead, she brings herself back into the conversation for the rest of the school week. Though with every blink, she pictures you.

—☽—

Not wanting to be stuck in the car with everyone for even fifteen minutes, Melissa only picks up Barbara, having everyone else meet her at the stadium. It pains her to not wear the spare jersey from the back of your shared closet, opting for a shirt with the same orange as the team’s color. Barbara settles for her only orange necklace, one she never wears, but will in order to entertain her best friend.

The redhead’s eagerness is infectious, finally happy to see you back on the field for the first time all season. She was bitter when practice started, only able to go to a few of them before the coaches closed the practices to get focused and avoid distraction, which felt targeted towards her even if it wasn’t. At this point, she just wanted to see you in those pants. God, those pants.

“How well do you think you’re going to control yourself?” Barbara asks. Melissa peaks over briefly, giving her friend a questioning gaze. The woman sighs, “presumably, you don’t want the kids in your business. And do you really think they’re not gonna notice your ogling?”

“I’m just hoping they mind the game and not my business,” Melissa grumbles truthfully, having not really thought about how attention could fall on her.

Barbara gives a slow nod, “ah, yes. Because they’re all well known for minding their business.” Melissa huffs at the sarcasm, but sequesters herself to silence.

Pulling up to the stadium, she pulls in next to Janine’s car, seeing Jacob and Janine excitedly waving as Gregory gives a smaller one. Stepping out, everyone talks as they wait for Ava to arrive, knowing her tendency to arrive fashionably late. Once she does, everyone is shocked to see the principal step out wearing a jersey for the team.

Her hands fly up in confusion, eyes landing on Melissa, “you invite us to this and I’m the only one to show out? Are you trying to make me look like a nerd, Schemmenti?”

“Last week you explained the sociopolitical commentary of Star Trek to me. You don't need help looking like a dork.”

This silences Ava long enough for Melissa and Barbara to corral everyone to the entrance. At the ticket stand, she gives her name, crossing her fingers that you were just joking. Six tickets are placed in front of her, immediately grabbing them to lead the group to her usual spot. Second row at the home dugouts, she ushers everyone in, Barbara to her left, Ava to her right. Before she can even speak, the redhead passes Ava a five, “get your own damn corndog.”

As the seats fill in around her, Melissa is practically vibrating. The loudness around her is oddly comforting, hearing everyone’s excitement. Peeking every few seconds, she hopes to catch the teams entering the dugouts. She wants to check her phone to see if she has a message from you, but she knows you’re too in your head to even acknowledge your phone’s existence. Her persistent watching is broken by Jacob leaning over Ava’s empty seat.

“How did you even get these seats? They’re like the best ones!”

Melissa’s brows raise, trying her best not to sputter, “I know a guy.” A glint of nonbelief goes over Jacob’s face, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he retracts back to Janine’s side, sparing one last analyzing gaze at Melissa before going back to the conversation.

“You’re screwed,” Barbara mumbles, fixing her sunglasses.

“I’m screwed,” Melissa parrots, but leans forward in her seat to be as close to the field as she can manage.

—☽—

Ava shimmies into the seat just as the teams pour onto the field, but Melissa’s attention doesn’t divert once. Her eyes scan to find where you are, finding a familiar figure shifting weight from foot to foot. You seem to know eyes are on you, stilling for a second as you look around. A little grin grows on your face as you finally catch the sight of familiar red hair in the crowd, but you keep yourself from drawing attention to her with your usual blown kiss. You instead settle on tapping your toes into the grass three times.

The teams take their places, and you settle yourself on the second base, fiddling with the velcro of your glove as you wait for the game to start. Your opponents, the Blue Foxes, were well known in the league for their cutthroat playing style. For the last three years, they had remained undefeated, and all thanks to their pitcher. Castille was known as a sharpshooter for their pitching accuracy, and your team had been practicing even harder just for this.

Their first batter strikes out, the second only gets to second base, the third is out before they run it to first. You can see your coach to a hard clap from the dugout, clearly pleased that nothing had been scored yet. The second inning plays out similarly, though Castille strikes out two of your batters easily, and is clearly angered when another makes it to third.

As another inning begins, you refuse to rip your eyes away from the ball. Risking a blink is not in the cards. The Fox batter, Morgan, slams hard, the ball flying out into the grass. Your centerfield scrambles for it, throwing it to you before Uwey makes it to your base. Screaming in the stands only propels you, jumping with all your might to get it from the air, planting yourself on the base as Uwey slides in.

“Fucker!” He yells at you, though a grin crawls on his face as you offer your arm to get him up. “I was betting against that, leapfrog.”

“Oops,” you joke, giving him a pat on the shoulder as the umpire declares that he’s out.

Tension between the teams rises quickly during the break, feeling the staredown as you chug water. You make an effort to not look back, but you can feel it regardless of where you divert your attention.

“We feeling oh-and-oh?” Jackson asks you, wiping sweat from her brow before putting her cap back on.

You flex your glove hand, trying to work out tension, “if we’re lucky. I don’t wanna make a fool out of myself today.”

“Your girl here?”

You can’t hide the smile on your face, “yeah. And she brought some people, so it’s our ego now.”

Back on the field in the sixth inning, all the niceties between everyone stop quickly. There’s no help up from the ground, no compliments for good plays. There is only icy eye contact, especially with every fastball that Castille sends to your batters. You practically cackled when Jackson made it to second off one of them, watching her wave crazily to her dad in the crowd.

Peeking behind you, you catch a glimpse of Melissa in the stands, watching her clearly explain what’s going on to Barbara. From your spot, she can’t see you, which is likely the only reason her eyes are not glued to the diamond. There’s a confidence in her place here, knowing it well and knowing your team, she almost has an authority about her.

The coach waves you down, letting you know you’re up to bat next. Next quickly becomes now as Castille strikes out Ismat. The sickly grin on their face makes you nervous, but you force yourself to steel up. Your name echoes through the speakers, announcing your approach to the plate. Gripping the bat, you tap against the plate three times before raising the bat, giving it a slight twirl as you nod.

Melissa’s focus stays on you, watching the bat tap one-two-three. Softly against her thigh, her hand copies the pattern. Leaning forward slightly more, she watches with rapt attention.

The first pitch flies past you at breakneck speeds, strike one. You adjust your grip, eyes not faltering as you eye up Castille, nodding again. This time, you swing, hearing the solid thwack of the ball against the bat. Immediately you take off, keeping your focus on the first base, expecting the shadow of the ball to fly overhead.

Turning as you slide in, you see the ball go towards Jackson. Not the baseman at third, but Jackson. A sickening cry follows, a gloved hand rising to hold the side of her face. Beside her in the dirt is the ball. It takes no time for you to deduce who had done it, only one person could hit someone running that fast. How the ball got to them, you have no idea. All you know is that Castille did it.

The umpire calls a timeout. The moment he does, you’re sprinting across the field to Jackson. You shove everyone out of the way, crouching down to her level.

“Still with us? Got your facilities?” You ask, more concerned sounding than you intended.

She nods weakly, gripping your arm to use it as leverage to get up. The Foxes gather around, checking on her too, all except Castille. Once Jackson is up, you immediately turn, stalking towards the pitchers’ mound.

“The fuck is your problem?!”

The echo of your voice reaches the stands, everyone leaning forward in their seats. Melissa goes to rise immediately, face serious and hands clenched, but Barbara grips her arm to keep her in place. The anger coming off of her seems to clue in the others, who all watch the scene with equal curiosity.

Your teammates quickly run up, one trying to pull you back a bit. All you notice is the bat in his hands, immediately ripping it from his grip with a harsh tug. Still, you keep it pointed down, simply a not-so-subtle threat.

“It was an accident. No need to get pissy,” Castille says, stepping into your space. “Just a little baseball, everyone gets hurt.”

“Everyone’s about to include you, fucknut,” you twirl the bat in your hand, raising it ever so slightly.

With a sly grin, a hand stiffly pushes you back, “shit happens, let it go. Why don’t you go play nurse now that your shortstop is out of commision.”

You mock the laugh they let out at their own comment, bat coming up in a full swing. Just as Castille’s eyes widen, you feel a hand grip the end of the bat, stopping you in your place. Turning back, Morgan only shakes his head, silently asking what the fuck you are doing. Your eyes dart back to the pitcher in front of you, a little terror hidden on their face. It placates you enough to hear the coach calling you over to the dugout, no doubt for a scolding. Dropping your arm, you trudge over, shoulder checking everyone as you go.

Melissa’s unblinking eyes never leave you until you disappear into the dugout. She watches the bat fly from your hand into the hard wood of a stadium with a sharp crash. Green eyes stay on you as you rip the hat from your head, smashing it to the dirt as you walk. Barbara keeps her in place still, feeling the way her friend is practically shaking with anger, as if she feels what you are feeling. Unbeknownst to Melissa, the others are scanning over her, silent questions on their faces that they cannot voice now without facing wrath. Ava peers over to Barbara, eyebrows raising in amusement. The response she receives is a subtle eye roll.

“Holy shi-” Ava starts excitedly, but is silenced by Melissa’s hand flying out to try and cover her mouth.

Tuning in, the redhead tries to make out what the coach yells at you. The man is clear is not trying to hide his displeasure. “Are you nuts?... Could have killed them… Don’t care what hap- stop interrupting me!”

Staring up at your coach, you practically pout in your spot, “they fucking fastballed Aliyah to the face and I’m getting shit?! They’re still on the field!”

“It was an accident,” he tries to reason.

“Sharpshooter missed that hard? Bull-fucking-shit man!” You shout as you stand, crossing your arms with an air of defiance.

Your coach takes a deep breath, staring you down. “Locker rooms. Now,” he says with no room for anything else. If you speak again, you won’t touch a bat or glove for weeks. Rolling your eyes with a huff, you head to the stairs.

From where she is sitting, Melissa cannot see where you are, or rather, where you went. Her frantic eyes scan the field, but from Barb’s grip, she is not even able to try and get a better view. Eyeing the field, she sees the coach round the dugout and approach the fence. He waves at her, motioning her to talk to him.

Melissa immediately shakes herself free from Barbara’s hold and flies down the wobbling stairs. Bracing herself on the fence, she asks, “what the hell, Marty?”

“I put the walking liability in timeout in the locker room,” he said with a fading annoyance. “That shit can’t happen on my field.”

Melissa frowns, “that jackass nailed Aliyah on purpose, come on.”

“We all know that. Now, can you just help me out here?”

Rolling her eyes, Melissa trudges down to the gate, letting herself onto the field to go the quick way.

“Oh, word?” Ava says, looking towards Barbara. Gregory looks at her with confusion. Motioning at the field, then Melissa’s disappearing figure, the gears finally begin to turn.

“Word,” Barbara says with a flat tone, picking up her phone to text Gerald.

—☽—

Laying down on the bench, you stare at the popcorn ceiling in hopes to calm yourself down. The cool wood is a balm to your sweaty back, freezing out the fire in your veins. Anger sloughs off the longer you lay there. Your vision blurs as you fight hot tears, acidic with your anger. You know better than to react like that, especially so publicly. Shame crawls up your spine, knowing Melissa’s friends saw you like that, that Melissa saw you like that.

The door to the locker room opens, the slam of the door being followed by heeled footsteps quickly approaching. Sitting up, you’re met with Melissa’s frown.

“Hi,” you say, offering a weak smile.

A single brow raises, “hi? That’s what you’ve got for me?”

“My bad? Whoops?” You shrug, knowing that there was no saying you hadn’t had the intention of bludgeoning Castille. Your eyes drag away from her face to fully look at her for the first time since you left this morning. The smile on your face stretches, “you look beautiful.”

Melissa gives a silent laugh, and you revel in the way her eyes close and she ducks her head. Even after two years, she still gets all shy when you compliment her. Stepping closer, she plants herself between your legs, “maybe next time, fail in beating up someone off the field.”

“Wouldn’t’ve failed if Charlie didn’t cut in,” you mumble, hands rising to hold the back of Melissa’s thighs. Leaning forward, you bury your face against her stomach. Any and all lingering tension in your body disappears when her hands come to your back, scratching up and down slowly. “Sorry I embarrassed you,” you whisper against her.

Bending over you, she presses a kiss to your head, “how’d you do that?”

“Attempted assault and battery.”

“It’s a Saturday night in Philly, amore. That’s just business,” she jokes, but the meaning isn’t lost on you.

Melissa stays right there until the game ends, the buzzer ringing loudly. Pulling back from her, you nod towards the door, wordlessly telling her to go before the team comes in. Pressing a kiss to your sweat-dried hairline, she walks out, but not before sending a look back to you that makes you shiver.

True to your silent word, as the team pours in with the look of defeat written on their faces, you duck into the furthest shower stall. With grime gone and body dry, you tug one of Melissa’s sweatshirts over your body and slide into the softest sweatpants Amazon can deliver. Returning to your locker, you start shoving everything into your bag, not taking the time to fold or organize anything. Spinning on your heel, you try to leave, but your coach steps in front of you.

“I know,” you say. “Head on my shoulders, use it. Bat as a weapon, don’t use it.”

“You cracked it,” Marty says with exasperation, shoving the bat from earlier into your hands. “What’s this? Number seven now?”

“Five,” you mumble, avoiding his eyes. Tucking the bat under your arm, you shuffle past him. With your head down, you leave, trying to hide your face from the other team as people move in and out of their locker room. Moving through the maze of people, you try to find your girlfriend at your normal meeting spot outside the stadium.

In a circle, the Abbott group debriefs under the streetlight. The yellow light illuminates fiery red hair, drawing you in quicker. Hearing your steps approach, she turns in your direction, and arm outstretched in invitation to tuck yourself into her side. The group, except Barbara and Ava, look stunned at your arrival, scanning over you and the arm around your shoulders. A dual ooooh passes the lips of Janine and Jacob, Gregory only giving a slow nod after thinking about what Ava pointed out earlier.

“Got something for you,” you say quietly to Melissa, feeling a tad exposed knowing they all watched your outburst earlier. A single brow props up in question. From under your other arm, you pull out the cracked bat.

“Don’t swing, slugger!” Ava jokes, putting her hands out in mock self-defense. You can't really hide the embarrassed look that flashes across your face.

“Ignore her,” Melissa says, grabbing the bat from your hands, toying with it in her grasp. Her nail runs along a thin, long split in the wood, looking back at you. “Can never bring me a not fucked up one, can you?”

“I prefer to call it a signature,” you offer. Melissa shakes her head with a silent laugh, arm tightening to pull you into a one-armed hug.

The night ends with a reluctant promise from Melissa to invite everyone over for dinner to properly meet you, and a genuine promise of tickets to any home game from you. Ava sends Melissa a double thumbs up, gesturing towards you as she mouths nice. Walking with Melissa and Barbara to the car, all the energy in your body is practically melting away. Gameday jitters and the anger you felt earlier had kept you awake, but now all you want is your bed with your girlfriend wrapped around you.

In order to be polite, you sit in the back to let Barbara sit in the passenger seat. Before Melissa even turns onto Barbara’s street, you’re dead to the world in the backseat with your cap covering your face. If your snores disturbed their conversations, they never said a word.

—☽—

The soft feeling of pressure going up and down your shin wakes you from your slumber. Sliding the cap off your face, you peek towards Melissa, sitting in the backseat now with your legs in her lap. Blinking quickly, you sit up, wordlessly agreeing to go inside, still silent with lingering sleep.

Melissa grabs your bag for you, letting you trudge up the steps to the front door and fidget with the lock. Once inside, you shove your shoes off and flop onto the couch. Dropping your bag by the door, Melissa settles next to you. Resting her head against the back of the couch to match your position, she looks in your direction.

The second she does, you’re leaning to tuck yourself into her side. With your head on her shoulder, you mumble, “can put it in the kitchen.” At her questioning hum, you elaborate, “the bat- wait we have knives. Laundry room.”

Melissa chuckles at the sureness in your tired voice, pressing her lips to the crown of your head. The feeling makes you shiver, immediately sitting up, so close to her that your noses brush. The newfound closeness makes the corners of her lips curl up, creases around her eyes deeping as you just stare at her in subtle awe. Slow blinking eyes rake over your face, just as carefree in their indulgence as your own gaze.

It becomes impossible to hold back, leaning into her the second her eyes find yours again. Soft lips brush against yours, and you push into her, kissing her with all the love fizzing in your chest. Her hand slides from around your shoulders to cup your neck, keeping you close as you shift to straddle her lap. With the gentlest touch, you cup her face, thumbs sliding over the apples of her cheeks.

Manicured nails dig into your neck slightly, making you whine against Melissa’s lips. Shuffling on your knees, you desperately try to press harder into her, wanting to be as close as close can get. The feeling of her tongue passing over yours is enough to make you shift your grip to her hair, tugging just enough to make a groan crawl from the back of her throat.

Part of you panics, trying to pull back to make sure you weren’t rougher than you intended. Melissa doesn’t let you get far, leaning in quicker than you back away, drawing you back in. Nipping at your lip, she finally lets you go, only to make you pout.

“Don’t start with me,” she jokes quietly, trying not to break the small bubble of comfort. “You go upstairs and change, I’ll warm up some leftovers.”

You sigh, pressing your forehead to hers, “five more minutes?”

A little grin plays at her lips as she presses a kiss to your cheek, letting you drop your forehead to her shoulder and relax your weight against her. A mumble of I love you vibrates against her neck, a soft kiss placed on warm skin.

Five minutes wouldn’t be so bad. And neither is the thirty minutes that it turns into, with you knocked out on top of her with a hand still buried in her red locks.

note: no longer the holidays but i hope yall had a good season!! in between my last fic and now i graduated college, so i would call mine a general success on that front <3

feedback appreciated as always, my sweet babies <3

[katmostardently]

Set after the Doyle arc, Emily’s been a bit distant and guilty for everything, you’ve been patient nonetheless.

Implied death, hurt/comfort, fluff, barely implied smut

ʕ⁎̯͡⁎ʔ༄

Word count: 737 words

a/n: I got some ideas after listening to Would You Fall in Love with Me Again, it’s short but it’s 4 am, I blame all my mistakes on that. I currently have some ideas for longer stuff but I’m lazy, tired, and uninspired so here are my scraps!! :;(∩´﹏`∩);:

Would You Fall in Love with Me Again

“I’m sorry, I know I’m not the Emily you fell in love with.”

Her voice cracked, and you’d never quite seen Emily so broken down. You could see the genuine sorrow in her eyes, each line of her face filled with guilt. After getting out of a life or death situation because of Doyle, it was as though the only thing she had left for you was regret. Emily hated it, because someone like you didn’t deserve it

Someone like you didn’t deserve to have your heart shattered, torn to bits, to be forced into grieving, just to have it all been for nothing. Yet here you were, and that was just what happened.

Even if a week had passed since her return, hardly anything was settling in, even then, you were still there.

You placed the plate of spaghetti you’d just prepared for Emily down, settling on the couch next to her. “Emily-“, you were quick to start, and Emily was quick to silence you.

“I’m sure you’re more upset than anyone on the team, you… You’re wearing my ring for god’s sake, I couldn’t bring myself to even let you know about all this…” Emily’s mouth had quivered, letting out a shaky breath as she turned to you. “I made you wait, and now I’m not even the woman you adored so much. Y/n, I…”

She looked at you, not wanting to leave you alone ever again, but at that same moment, not feeling worthy to hold you in her arms. “I’m so sorry…” Sure, Emily was in fact changed, anyone would be.

She had this tired look in her eyes, like she wasn’t truly there, like she needed some escape. You saw it in the moments where she got home from work, when she’d secretly discard your food at night. The cigarettes in Emily’s pockets, the nights you’d wake up and cradle her through a nightmare. It all tore away at her piece by piece.

But in those same eyes, you saw the same eyes that lit up every time you were near, the same eyes that called to you with a single glance.

The same eyes, pooled with that intense devotion, that stared up to you when she knelt down on one knee a year ago.

“It’s true, you left me waiting, and it hurt, the fact that I couldn’t know you were alright.” You answered her honestly, “but it hurt even more to think you were dead. I wanted whatever monster took you from me to suffer, and I felt cursed thinking that you were taken from me.”

Before she could muster a response, you took Emily’s hand, holding it against your cheek.

Instinctively, she traced her thumb against your lips.

“And I’m so, so, so happy that you’ve come back to me.” With the way you were looking at her, Emily was certain that she’d married a princess—no, some generous, all forgiving goddess.

“I don’t deserve you…” She whispered, her hand continuing its gentle caress.

You let out a little chuckle at her words, shaking your head, “see, now only my Emily, would say something so untrue. Because you, Emily Prentiss, deserve the world.”

Then to be exact, it felt as though you gave Emily a whole galaxy, because in moments like these you always brought her some solace. There was not a single doubt you couldn’t crush with your benign palms.

She could simply hold you close in response, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you felt her heartbeat.

Emily knew that her heart would never stop, not when she’d been given the best of all women to be her fiance. She vowed to never let it stop, not when you’d be waiting for her, she could never again leave you frozen in time. Her dearest, y/n y/l/n, soon to be y/n Prentiss.

Perhaps she didn’t have to worry all that much, because somehow, you fell back in love with her new, shattered self. But really, you just simply never stopped loving her, there was no need to win you back, to make you fall in love again.

“Now… Your spaghetti’s gonna get cold….” You reminded, about to move when Emily stopped you, tenderly pushing you against the cushions. “I want my fiancé right now, not some spaghetti…” She murmured against your neck, and you smiled in response.

Forevermore, you’d never even think of giving up Emily Prentiss.

[rubywillkins]

The Week of Angst| I

Lando Norris| The Rain Before The Storm

Pairing lando × female reader

Warning angst, accident, therapy

Lando Norris had always been a man in motion. As one of Formula 1’s most promising drivers, he lived life on the edge, chasing fractions of a second with precision and nerve. But for all the roaring crowds, champagne showers, and victory laps, he’d never known what it felt like to stop—to truly be still—until he met Y/n

She wasn’t part of his world. There were no selfies at the paddock, no requests for autographs. She had no idea who he was when they first met at a small gallery opening in Monaco. Y/n, an artist, stood beside one of her paintings, gesturing animatedly as she explained her work to a group of strangers. Lando was captivated—not just by her art but by her presence, her effortless warmth.

When he finally approached her, he stumbled over his words, uncharacteristically shy. She smiled at him, amused, and asked, “Do you always talk like you’re going 200 miles an hour?”

And just like that, Lando Norris, the man who lived for speed, slowed down.

Their connection was immediate, magnetic. They spent hours talking that night, about her art, his racing, their wildly different lives. For the first time in years, Lando felt seen—not as an athlete, not as a brand, but as a man.

Their love grew in the spaces between races, in stolen weekends and late-night phone calls. Y/n brought color to his world, grounding him in a way he never knew he needed. She teased him endlessly, saying he cared more about his car than himself, but she was the one who made sure he ate after grueling days at the track.

It was a rainy evening in Tuscany, six months after they met, when Lando decided he couldn’t wait any longer. They were staying at a quiet vineyard after a particularly exhausting season. He’d planned a grand proposal—candles, music, the works—but as they walked back to their villa, hand in hand, the words spilled out of him.

“Y/n,” he said, stopping suddenly.

She turned to him, her brow furrowing. “What is it?”

“I can’t imagine my life without you,” he said, his voice trembling. “I don’t want to imagine it. Will you marry me?”

Her breath caught, her eyes wide with shock. Then, slowly, her lips curled into the most radiant smile he’d ever seen. “Yes,” she whispered.

Rain began to fall as if the heavens were celebrating with them. They laughed, letting the drops soak their clothes, and he spun her in his arms. When he kissed her, it wasn’t just a kiss; it was a promise.

But life, as it often does, had other plans.

A few weeks after their engagement, y/n’s younger brother, James, was in a horrific car accident. Unfortunately he couldn't survive , the sight of him broken and fragile in a hospital bed shook y/n to her core. She spent days by his side, but at the end he passed. She felt as if ahe lost the most precious thing in this world. She felt lost. her usual brightness dimmed by worry and guilt.

Lando tried to support her, doing everything he could to make her life easier. But the cracks were beginning to show. She stopped painting, stopped laughing. The woman who once teased him for being too serious now seemed like a shadow of herself.

One night they sat on the couch in their small apartment, the space once filled with laughter now weighed down by a heavy, suffocating silence. Y/n stared at her hands, twisting the silver ring on her finger. She had rehearsed this moment in her head a hundred times, but now that it was here, every word felt like a dagger in her chest.

Lando sat beside her, his knee bouncing with nervous energy. He could sense something was wrong—he’d felt it for weeks. The light in her eyes had faded, her smiles had grown rare, and the woman who once teased him endlessly now barely spoke.

“Y/n,” he said softly, breaking the silence. “What’s going on? Please talk to me.”

Her chest tightened at the sound of his voice. She knew how much he loved her, how hard he’d been trying to hold her together. But the weight she carried had become too much, and she couldn’t bear to see him hurt because of her.

“I’ve been thinking,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando turned to her fully, his brows furrowing. “About what?”

She took a deep breath, her fingers trembling as she twisted the ring off her finger and set it gently on the coffee table.

His eyes flicked to the ring, and a wave of panic swept over him. “Y/n, no. Don’t do this.”

“I can’t,” she said, her voice cracking. “I can’t keep pretending everything is okay, Lando. I’m not okay.”

He reached for her hand, but she pulled away, the motion stabbing at his heart. “You don’t have to pretend with me. Whatever you’re going through, we’ll get through it together. I’ll do anything—just tell me what you need.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she shook her head. “That’s the problem, Lando. I don’t even know what I need. I feel like I’m drowning, and I’m dragging you down with me.”

“You’re not dragging me down,” he said firmly, his voice rising with desperation. “You’re the most important person in my life, Y/n. Let me help you.”

“I’ve tried,” she choked out. “I’ve tried to let you in, but this… this darkness inside me, it’s bigger than us. Every day, I wake up and I feel… empty. And seeing you try so hard to fix me when I can’t even fix myself—it’s killing me.”

He swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotion. “Then let me carry you through this. You don’t have to go through it alone.”

Her gaze met his, her eyes filled with sorrow. “That’s just it, Lando. I don’t want you to carry me. I don’t want you to sacrifice your happiness, your life, for someone who can’t even get out of bed most days.”

“You’re not a burden,” he said, his voice breaking. “Don’t you see that? I love you, Y/n I don’t care how hard it gets.”

“And I love you too,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “That’s why I have to let you go. You deserve someone who can be there for you, someone who isn’t broken.”

He stood abruptly, running his hands through his hair. “Stop saying that! You’re not broken, y/n. You’re just… you’re going through something, and that’s okay. We can get help, therapy, whatever you need. Just don’t do this.”

Her tears came harder now, her shoulders shaking as she whispered, “I’ve already made up my mind.”

Lando sank back onto the couch, his head in his hands. He was silent for a long moment before finally looking at her, his eyes red and shining. “Please don’t do this,” he said again, his voice barely audible.

Y/n reached out and touched his cheek, her hand lingering for a moment. “I’ll always love you, Lando. But I can’t be the person you need right now. And I can’t keep hurting you like this.”

He grabbed her hand, holding it tightly as if he could keep her from slipping away. “You’re everything I need. Please, Y/n. Don’t leave me.”

She gently pulled her hand away, the loss of her touch leaving him cold. “I’m sorry,” she said, standing slowly.

Lando watched as she picked up her bag, his heart shattering with every step she took toward the door. “Y/n,” he called out, his voice cracking.

She paused at the door, her back to him. “Goodbye, Lando,” she whispered, and then she was gone.

The apartment felt unbearably empty without her. He sat on the couch for hours, staring at the ring on the table, the echo of her words ringing in his ears.

And when the silence became too much, he finally broke, his sobs filling the space where her laughter once lived.

The next two years were a blur of races and emptiness. Lando won more than ever before, but the victories felt hollow. He threw himself into his career, hoping the adrenaline would drown out the ache in his chest. It didn’t.

Nights were the worst. Alone in his apartment, he’d replay every moment with y/n, wondering if there was something he could have done differently. He missed her laugh, the way she scrunched her nose when she was deep in thought, the way she made him feel like he was more than just a driver.

Y/n missed him too. She spent months in therapy, untangling the guilt and grief that had consumed her. Slowly, she began to heal. She started painting again, pouring her pain into her work. But every time she finished a piece, she thought of Lando. She wondered if he was okay, if he still thought of her.

It was a humid summer night when fate brought them together again. Lando was at a club with his teammates, reluctant but too tired to argue. He was nursing a drink at the bar when he saw her.

Y/n.

She looked different. Stronger. Her eyes, once clouded with pain, now glimmered with something lighter. But she was still Y/n. His Y/n.

She turned, and their eyes met. Time stopped.

He approached her cautiously, his heart pounding. “Y/n,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.

“Lando,” she breathed, her eyes searching his.

They didn’t speak for a long moment, the noise of the club fading into the background. Finally, she smiled, tentative but real. “How have you been?”

“Better now,” he said softly.

They sat in a quiet corner, talking as if no time had passed. She told him about her therapy, about finding herself again. He told her about the nights he’d spent missing her, the races that felt meaningless without her there.

When the club closed, he hesitated before asking, “Can I see you again?”

She looked at him for a long moment before nodding. “I’d like that,”

---

They started slow, rebuilding what had been broken. They became friends again, but it wasn’t long before the old spark reignited. The way she laughed at his jokes, the way he touched her hand just a little longer than necessary—it was undeniable.

One rainy evening, as they decided to meet at their regular stop just like older times..

The small café on the corner of the bustling city street was nearly empty, save for a handful of customers enjoying the calm of the afternoon. At a table near the window, Lando sat across from Y/n.

“when you told me to met here, I was so surprised, I can’t believe you still remembered this place,” she said, her fingers brushing the edge of her coffee cup.

“How could I forget?” Lando replied, his lips curving into a small smile. “We used to sit here for hours, pretending we didn’t notice the staff trying to close up around us.”

Y/n laughed softly, and for a moment, it felt like nothing had changed. “And you’d always order that ridiculous caramel mocha with extra whipped cream. What was it you called it? ‘Fuel for champions’?”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Hey, don’t mock the champion’s drink. It got me through some tough times on and off the track.”

She shook her head, her smile faltering slightly. “I’ve missed this… talking to you like this.”

Lando’s expression softened. “I’ve missed it too.”

There was a pause, not awkward but filled with the weight of everything they’d lost. Lando finally broke the silence.

“Do you remember that trip to Tuscany?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

Y/n’s eyes lit up with a mix of nostalgia and emotion. “How could I forget? That was the first time I ever saw you truly relax. You were so happy… spinning me around in the rain like we didn’t have a care in the world.”

“That was the night I proposed,” he said, his voice tinged with both fondness and sorrow. “I’ve never seen you look more beautiful than you did under those stars.”

She looked down at her hands, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve thought about that night a lot. About how perfect it all felt… how I ruined it.”

“Y/n, you didn’t ruin anything,” Lando said, leaning forward. “You were going through something I couldn’t fully understand, but that doesn’t change how much I loved you. How much I still…” He stopped himself, the words hanging in the air.

She met his gaze, her eyes glistening. “You still… what?”

He hesitated, then took a deep breath. “How much I still love you. I never stopped, Y/n.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she shook her head. “Lando, I don’t know if I deserve that. I left you. I broke us.”

“You didn’t break us,” he said firmly. “Life threw us into a storm we weren’t ready for. But we survived it, didn’t we? And sitting here with you now, it feels like… maybe we’re still standing.”

She reached across the table, her fingers brushing against his. “Do you really think we can find our way back to what we had?”

He turned his hand over, intertwining his fingers with hers. “I don’t want what we had. I want something even better. I want the future we dreamed of, Y/n. And I want it with you.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she couldn’t speak. Finally, she whispered, “I’ve missed you so much, Lando. I’ve missed us.”

“Then let’s start again,” he said, his voice steady but filled with hope. “No pressure, no expectations. Just you and me, one day at a time.”

A small, tearful smile broke across her face as she nodded. “I’d like that.”

He smiled back, his grip on her hand tightening slightly. For the first time in years, the weight on both their hearts felt a little lighter.

Outside, the rain began to fall softly, but neither of them noticed. They were too lost in each other, their hearts finally finding their way back home.

Under the rain, they danced once more, not as strangers reuniting, but as two souls who had weathered life's storms and found their way back to each other. This time, they knew their love was unbreakable.

[stargazedwinchester]

Haircare ♡ Sam

Summary: You spend a self-care day with Sam. Word Count: 896 This one's more descriptive than progressive, be honest if it's slow or boring, and I'll redo it. </3

Sam takes pride in his hair, he always has. Ever since you entered his life, he never fully took care of himself. Sure, he’d buy the occasional moisturiser, sometimes a hair mask, if he really fancied it. You hoarded a vast collection of self care products, ranging from skincare to haircare. It had always intrigued Sam, but he thought it would be wasteful to spend a lot of money and not use it.

“Hey,” Sam greets as he walks into the library. You look up at him and smile. “Hey yourself.” You reach up and plant a kiss on his lips, and he chuckles softly. “Could you give me a hand with cutting my hair? I don’t trust going to the barbers.” He laughs nervously, and you nod. “Of course I can!” You walk down toward the bathroom, but he pulls your arm back gently, making you turn around. “Do you think I could use some of your hair stuff, too?” Sam looks at you sheepishly, and you grin at him. “Yes, baby, you can.”

You place Sam on a stool in the bathroom. He looked silly sitting on something so small. You take sections of his hair bit by bit and snip the ends. Honestly, he had pretty healthy hair, a few split ends, and it felt soft. To say they have the shit kicked out of them every other day, Sam’s quite competent at looking after himself. You take the scissors to his hair, then brush the loose hairs from his shoulders. He sat shirtless, as it was easier to get rid of the loose hairs, rather than them sticking to his shirt.

You wouldn’t complain either way.

You indicate Sam to stand up, wafting at his toned chest and broad shoulders. “All done.” You admire his torso, his muscles relaxed yet still prominent. You could watch Sam in awe for the rest of your life. He glances down at you before tenderly moving past you to turn the shower on. He undresses and ushers you to do the same.

The droplets barely patter down on your chest. Sam’s large frame blocks the full power of the showerhead. He leans back and dampens his hair, and you take a quick look around for products to use on his hair. You have many to choose from, ranging from drugstore and salon brand. You decide on a higher end one, a deep purple bottle. Squirting a small amount onto your hand, you emulsify it by rubbing your hands together. Sam leans down, bending his knees so you can reach. Your fingertips massage the shampoo into his scalp. He takes over whilst you apply some on yourself as well.

“Leave it in for 5 minutes,” you advise, and he furrows his brows.

“Why?”

“If you leave it to soak in, it’ll work better.”

“Ah.”

You gingerly place your hand on his chest, reaching up to plant a kiss on his cheek. Innocently, he cups your face and lays a kiss on your forehead, then another on your lips.

You both wash the product out of your hair, you reach for a small, beige tub and scoop out a moderate amount. “So, since you have shorter hair, you won’t need to use conditioner,” you instruct, preparing to put the hair mask on his hair. “This is a hair mask. It’ll keep your hair soft but won’t overbear it with moisture.” You tell him, and he looks puzzled. You can’t help but giggle at his face, like he had no clue. He allows you to work in the mask anyway, trusting your intuition.

After the shower, you dried off and Sam sits with a towel around his waist on the bed. He’s still somewhat damp, but insists he can sit there and dry off naturally.

“You wanna do some skincare?” You ask him, and he raises his eyebrows. “Like… face masks?” Sam questions, and you nod. “We can even shape your brows.”

“You are not touching my eyebrows.” Sam spat, immediately reaching to touch his brows, as if to protect them from you. “Aw, come on, Sam!” you moan, hoping that he will give in. He laughs heartily at your response, then shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”

“You’re boring.” You turn away, sifting through the various packets and tubs of face masks. “A sheet or a tub?” You ask, holding up one of each. He hesitates. “A… sheet?” Sam sounds unsure, combing his damp hair through with his fingers. You put the tub down and get the sheet mask ready. Luckily, you have two of each, so you can match with him.

You pass him the mask and you both apply it to your faces. It’s slimy and cold, making Sam pull a face of disgust. “There’s no way you find that gross.” You point at the mask, and he freezes. “What do you mean?”

“You kill monsters, Sammy. That’s more revolting than putting on a face mask.” You cackle. Sam admits defeat and touches his face once more.

You decide to put on a movie whilst the pair of you are relaxing after a long, hard day of self-care. Sam shuffles across the bed so you can lay next to him. He raises his arm so you can bury yourself in the nape of his neck. His arms wrap around you, squeezing you into a bear hug.

[zerocoded]

summary: you both share the past of being human experiments and when his nightmares start to become frequent again is the time you can comfort caleb the most.

authors note: guess who's back with another caleb work??? give me a man in a military uniform and i'll make it my personality for the next three months. so yeah, here is us comforting caleb then kissing him right after because he can't get enough of us hehe. (credits to the owner of this beautiful drawing, i couldn't find the author yet, pls someone help me, i found it on pinterest).

warnings: slightly suggestive • hurt/comfort • not much hurt actually • sfw content • ptsd symptoms

word count: 1.2k

the room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the stars outside the ship's viewport. caleb sat on the edge of the narrow cot, his broad shoulders hunched, the pale light catching the contours of his bionic arm. his flesh hand, calloused and warm, trembled slightly as it rested on his knee. you sat beside him, the silence between you thick with unspoken words, heavy but not suffocating. it was the kind of silence that held space for both of you to breathe.

his breathing was uneven, shallow. he hadn’t spoken much since waking up in a cold sweat, jolted out of the nightmare that had gripped him. you knew better than to press him. instead, you let your presence speak for itself, your hand brushing lightly against his. a small gesture, but it was enough to draw his gaze to you.

“it was the lab again,” he murmured finally, his voice hoarse, as though the dream had clawed its way up his throat. he didn’t meet your eyes. instead, his gaze was fixed on the floor, on the faint scuff marks of boots against the metal. “the restraints, the lights…” his words trailed off, his jaw tightening.

“you don’t have to talk about it,” you said softly, though your heart ached to share the weight of his pain. “not if you’re not ready.”

he shook his head, his bionic fingers flexing involuntarily, the faint whirr of servos breaking the quiet. “it’s not… it’s not the memories. it’s what they make me feel. like i’m still there. like i’ll never really leave.” his voice broke on the last word, and he exhaled sharply, a frustrated sound, his flesh hand running through his sweat-dampened hair.

you shifted closer, the mattress dipping slightly under your combined weight. reaching out, you let your fingers graze the cool metal of his arm before moving to his human hand, your touch deliberate and steady. “you’re here now,” you said, your tone quiet but firm. “you’re here with me. that place doesn’t own you anymore.”

at times like these, you felt guilty for not having memories of the lab. your nightmares consisted of visions of people that suffered from guilt, not this. caleb suffered from nightmares almost every night, having to become dependent on drugs to keep his consciousness at bay at night.

he finally looked at you, his pale blue eyes glassy but searching, like he was looking for something to hold onto in the vast expanse of everything he’d been through. “i don’t deserve you,” he said after a moment, his voice barely audible. “not after… everything i’ve done. everything i—”

“stop,” you interrupted gently, your hand tightening around his. “we’ve both done things we’re not proud of. but that doesn’t change what’s here, now.” you raised your free hand to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over the rough stubble along his jaw. “you don’t have to be perfect, caleb. you just have to let your mind rest for a bit.”

his eyes closed at your touch, his breath evening out, a small, shaky exhale escaping him as he leaned into your palm. “you’re too good at this,” he muttered, a faint, tired smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“someone has to be,” you replied softly, unable to resist a wry smile of your own. the thin blanket draped over your legs had slipped during the night, leaving your shoulders bare, your skin cool in the artificial air of the ship. your nightshirt—more for modesty than warmth—hung loosely on your frame, slipping off one shoulder, the hem barely grazing mid-thigh. the stark contrast between the unyielding metal floor and the intimacy of this moment made it feel all the more fragile, like a secret shared in the dark.

his gaze flickered downward as his smile faded into something more tender. his dog tag caught the dim light, the worn metal etched with his name and the faint outline of an apple painted in red. it dangled against his chest, just above where the soft fabric of his sleep shirt clung to his torso, slightly damp with sweat. the chain swayed faintly as he shifted, the sound faint but unmistakable in the quiet room.

“you’re freezing,” he murmured, his hand—flesh, warm, and calloused—skimming over your exposed shoulder. the touch was light at first, almost hesitant, before his fingers splayed, tracing a line down the curve of your arm. his bionic hand rested in his lap, motionless for now, but the faint hum of its servos was a constant reminder of his reality.

“i’m fine,” you assured him, though your body leaned instinctively into his touch. it wasn’t the cold that made you shiver, but the way his fingers lingered, reverent yet grounding, like he was memorizing the texture of your skin.

his thumb brushed the edge of your collarbone, following the faint rise and fall of your breaths. “you always say that,” he said, his voice low, a hint of vulnerability threading through it. “but what if you’re not?”

“then i have you,” you replied simply, your words so certain they made his chest tighten. his lips parted as if to respond, but whatever he was about to say dissolved in favor of something else entirely.

he leaned forward, his breath warm against your neck as his lips ghosted over your skin, pressing the softest of kisses there. it was tentative, almost unsure, as if testing the boundary between solace and something deeper. but when you didn’t pull away, when your hand moved to thread gently through his hair, his resolve seemed to shift.

the next kiss was firmer, placed just beneath your jawline, his lips brushing against the delicate pulse there. his hand had moved now, splayed across your back, pulling you closer. “you make every little mistake i made worth it,” he whispered against your skin, the words barely audible, as if saying them louder would shatter the moment.

your breath caught, your hand trailing down from his hair to rest against his chest, just above where the necklace rested. the cool metal was a stark contrast to the heat of his skin, the faint thrum of his heartbeat steady beneath your palm. “you are human, caleb,” you said softly, your voice laced with something between insistence and yearning. “we all make mistakes.”

he closed his eyes again, his forehead resting against yours now. his bionic arm moved, finally, the whirring sound almost imperceptible as the cool fingers brushed along the curve of your hip, grounding him further. the dichotomy of his touch—metal and flesh, strength and vulnerability—felt uniquely him.

as his lips found yours, the kiss was unhurried but no less consuming, a slow melding of need and comfort. it wasn’t about passion or urgency but connection, the quiet reminder that neither of you had to face the shadows alone. when he pulled back, his hand lingered on your waist, his thumb brushing idly against your skin as if afraid to let go.

“stay,” he murmured, though the word wasn’t a plea. it was a promise, one you’d already made and had no intention of breaking.

you pressed another kiss to his lips, softer this time, your fingers brushing the edge of his collarbone before settling over his heart. “always,” you whispered back, the word filling the small space between you, wrapping itself around the both of you like a second skin.

author's note: and the crowd went... silent? pls tell what you think about this post in your reblogs or comments, i love to read them all ♡ yes i have some more caleb content in my drafts and can't wait to post them. hope you enjoyed! xx. send me a request • my masterpost

[coyotelip]

wolfstar microfic: first kiss || hospital au pt.3 || @wolfstarmicrofic || wc: 730

Dr. Lupin sleeps with his mouth open.

It's not something Sirius would expect to find out about the senior surgeon just a week after they met. But when he walks into the break room during his night shift, this is the first thing he sees.

The small sofa in this room is not suitable for sleeping, but somehow the tall man has pulled his knees to his chest to fit on the worn-out cushions. Before, Sirius had felt as if Dr. Lupin towered over him from the height of his experience and a few extra centimeters of tallness, but now his thin figure looked small.

His eyes are closed, his glasses are pushed up on his forehead, his light brown hair is a mess from sleeping on a small decorative pillow, and a small trickle of saliva is dripping from the corner of his mouth. He makes a soft snoring sound.

The rest of the on-call staff must have found more comfortable and private places for those precious hours of sleep, so Sirius is the only one in the room who has to watch this scene.

He forgets about the energy drink he had just come for and instead approaches the sofa, now hovering over the sleeping body. He hasn't had the opportunity to talk to Dr. Lupin up close again, so he takes this moment to look at the man more closely. His face is lightly wrinkled from tiredness, and he has bruises under his eyes from lack of sleep, but on the other hand, his pale skin is covered with light freckles and a couple of moles near his eyes.

His fingers reach out to touch his hair. Sirius can't answer what exactly is driving him at this moment, the unnatural light glistening on his dirty hair and beckoning him like a fool's fake gold. Carefully, he moves it away from his forehead, accidentally touching the warm skin… Too warm.

The sleeping man does not react to this accidental touch. His breathing is just as steady, so Sirius summons up the rest of his courage and touches his forehead again, this time covering it with his palm.

Just as he thought, Dr. Lupin's skin is warmer than it should be. However, it could just be his own cold hands, so Sirius decides to try another method.

He leans in even closer, glad that his hair is tied back in a ponytail, and touches his lips to the man's forehead. The way his nanny always used to tell if they had a fever.

The skin beneath his lips is hot.

Before Sirius can think of what to do next, the body beneath him shudders. First, Dr. Lupin jerks his leg in the way that happens when you suddenly jerk out of a dream. Then his head snaps up, nearly hitting Sirius on the chin. The man's eyes are round with surprise and he looks directly at the boy.

“Black? What are you doing here?” the question sounds rushed, as if the man is still processing the situation.

“I… came to get…” Sirius doesn't have time to answer before he is interrupted.

“Did you kiss me?” and now the sleepy eyes narrow, looking at him with suspicion. But there is no anger in them.

“No?” the answer sounds uncertain, even though Sirius thinks the question is ridiculous. Of course he didn't kiss the older man!

“You literally pressed your lips to my face, Black,” and at that moment Lupin seems to realize that he is still in the prone position and sits up abruptly on the sofa. His hands unsuccessfully try to smooth out the crumpled robe.

“No, I was just checking your temperature, Doctor.” Sirius raises his hands as if to defend himself. “You seem to have a fever.”

“Pfft,” the man snorts as if at an absurd joke. “A fever? With your lips? Last time I checked, touching someone with your lips was called a kiss, Black.”

“No, I… God… I think that's a pretty common way to check the temperature, isn't it?” the guy tries to grasp at straws, beginning to realize he's wrong.

“Yes, among mothers and grandmothers. Not among real doctors, boy,” and Lupin sighs heavily and drops his head on his chest as if in despair. “Go away and let's forget about it, Black.”

Not wanting to play with fire, Sirius quickly disappears out the door, forgetting all about his energy drink.

[sp6ncers]

platform boots — s reid

summary: reader decides that spencer would look good in her style, and gives him a make over

spencer reid x trad goth! fem! reader. fluff. 2nd person, pov switches.

warnings/content: harassment, mentions of sexual harassment and bullying, established relationship, idiots in love, reader is shorter than spencer, reader gets called a bitch but not by spencer, pet names (silly girl, baby, pretty boy, angel), kissing, kinda insecure reader

wc : ~ 3k

author's note : my 2nd tumblr fic now that im getting the hang of it! this is literally just a cute fluffy fic because i want to and every day i dream of alternative spencer reid 🙂‍↕️ not really any specific season in mind but i pictured longer hair spencer for this, maybe season 4 or 5 :)) sorry if this is ass i got lazy because i so much prefer writing angst ijbol

Being an alternative woman in public is one thing, but being an alternative woman whose boyfriend is practically the complete opposite of you is a whole different issue. You're used to the comments that get thrown at you — after all, you've dealt with that for years, since you started dressing "unconventionally" in middle school. You've learned to ignore the sexualising comments from teenage boys and old men alike, and you can easily tune out the disapproving glares from middle aged women. However, what you aren't as okay with is when people bring your boyfriend into it.

You and Spencer are sitting together on the train home from a museum date, your knees touching as he holds your hand, fidgeting with your rings. You feel the gazes of a group of young boys — no more than fifteen — not far away from where you sit. You decide to ignore them, like you usually do, and you just hope that they don't decide to yell at you like you sometimes have had people do.

Your gaze traces over your boyfriend, and you find yourself unable to suppress a smile. As the days are getting colder, he's been wearing more layers, and it's just so cute. You love the way his scarf is wrapped around his neck and tucked into the dark brown jacket he's wearing. The soft waves of hair that frame his face are even more adorable when they're brushing over the rosiness of his cold cheeks.

Feeling you looking at him, Spencer looks away from your hands and up to your face. "What?" he asks with a smile of his own as he sees your grin.

"Nothing," you reply, nudging your knee against his. "You're just cute."

He smiles shyly, a pink tint creeping across his face. "No, I'm not," he responds. He's never been good at accepting compliments.

Raising a teasing eyebrow, you let a joking scold taint your voice as you say, "Don't argue with me, Dr Reid."

"Yes, ma'am," he chuckles breathily, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

Spencer's eyes fall to the floor, where your chunky platform boots rest beside his battered converse. He always loves it when you wear these boots, he thinks they're pretty with the silver studs you had glued onto them and the maroon laces you'd threaded through the eyelets. He's always admired how crafty you are, how you can make any basic item of clothing into something much more extravagant. Something else he loves about these boots is that they make you a little taller — still not as tall as him, but it makes it easier for him to kiss you.

Moving away from your boots, his gaze follows your legs, clad in two pairs of thermal tights beneath the long black skirt you're wearing. He'd watched you embroider the pattern of roses into the fabric a few weeks ago, practically in a trance. The way your eyebrows had been furrowed in concentration as your fingers swiftly worked was a beautiful thing to watch. He's convinced you could craft the galaxy with your bare hands if you wanted to.

Hazel eyes trace over your thighs and up your torso, flickering across the many layers you're wearing. He counts four — maybe five? — layers, which isn't surprising considering how prone to getting cold you are. The neckline of a lacy purple long-sleeve peeks out from beneath your Bauhaus T-shirt, which is partially hidden by a black zip-up that you had painted a pattern onto in bleach. Over the zip-up sits your baggy leather jacket, something you rarely leave the apartment without. A few necklaces decorate your neck, most of them ones that he had given you.

As his gaze finds yours again, he smiles. A cheesy, cute, I'm-so-in-love-with-you smile. When you smile back, his heart skips a beat. He loves the way the eyeliner cobwebs attached to the thick wing on your eyes shift with the movement of your pretty, black-painted lips.

"You're so pretty," Spencer tells you softly. He looks at you as if you'd just reached into the sky and handed him the moon.

Heat rises to your cheeks at his words — even after almost two years of dating, you still feel butterflies whenever he compliments you. You don't think that feeling will ever go away. You don't want it to. "So are you," you respond, giving his hand a squeeze.

As you say the words, the train slows to a halt at your stop. The both of you wait until it has fully stopped before standing and heading to the doors. As you do, the boys you'd caught staring at you earlier decide it would be amusing to yell at you.

"Emo bitch!" one of them shouts, his voice cracking embarrassingly. It almost makes you crack a smile.

Spencer squeezes your hand, a silent way to tell you it's okay and to not say anything back, but you're already glancing back at the laughing group with a cold glare. You part your lips to retaliate, but decide that your boyfriend is right. You stick to simply flipping them off as the two of you exit the train.

As you look back at Spencer, he gives you a pointed look. You shrug and say, "What? I didn't say anything." But you know you wouldn't have stayed silent if anything had been said about him instead.

You switch sides with him, slipping your hand into his as you adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder. The walk home is quiet and peaceful, thankfully void of any more cruel comments from strangers. Spencer's hand is somehow warm in yours, despite the frosty air and cold breeze that bites at your skin. Fallen leaves crunch beneath your shoes as the wind nudges them across the ground.

When you reach your shared apartment, Spencer quickly turns up the thermostat as you both step inside. As you both shrug off your jackets and hang them up, he presses a quick kiss to your forehead — likely trying to determine how cold you are.

"Do you want a drink?" he asks whilst tugging off his converse. "Tea?"

"No, I'm okay," you reply, plopping down onto the floor to take off your boots. Unzipping one, you let out a little grunt of effort as you tug it from your foot. "You know what I do want, though?"

"What?"

"I want..." You pause as you pull off the other boot, biting your lip. "I want to put make-up on you. My kind of make-up."

His eyes find yours as he tilts his head slightly. "You do?"

You hesitate, unsure if his response means that he is repulsed by the idea and would rather lick the floor of your building's elevator than let you do that. Looking away, your voice falls quieter as you reply, "I don't have to. It was just an idea. Sorry. It was stupid."

"Hey, silly girl." He sits in front of you on the floor, moving your boots out of the way as he shifts closer. "It's not stupid. Look at me," he says gently, tilting your chin up with his index and middle finger so that he can look into your eyes. "It's not a stupid idea. And you don't have to apologise. If that's something you want to do, I'd be more than happy to let you, okay?"

The slight pout on your lips is so adorable he feels like his heart might explode.

"Are you sure? You don't have to say yes," you mutter shyly. "It doesn't matter, really. You can say no, it's—"

"Baby," he cuts you off in a gentle voice, his tone one that makes your stomach flutter. The motherfucker always knows what to say and how to say it to shut you up. "I'm sure."

Your lips twitch into a nervous smile. He thinks it's so incredibly cute how you're so shy and sweet when most people would assume other things about you based on your appearance. He thinks it's silly how people make assumptions on others based on how they dress. He thinks a lot of things, but his mind goes blank when you lean in and kiss him.

Immediately kissing you back, he smiles against your lips and rests his hands on your waist to pull you just a bit closer. Knees knocking together, you break the kiss with a giggle and tuck his hair behind his ear.

"Do you want to do it now, or later?" he asks.

"Now. Is that okay?"

"Of course," Spencer says, smiling as he kisses you once more before standing up and pulling you to your feet.

So you head into the bathroom together, but you decide he's too tall for you to be able to do it properly when he's sat on the counter. He laughs when you tell him that, and disappears into the bedroom while you gather the rest of your make-up. Once you have everything, you follow after him into the bedroom.

"Sit on the bed," you instruct.

"Yes, ma'am," he replies with a laugh, sitting down with his back against the headboard.

Giggling softly, you walk over and set the various items in your arms on the nightstand. As you move to sit on the bed, straddling his lap, you shrug off the zip-up and drop it onto the other side of the bed. Even while you're doing something as simple as reaching over to grab a headband, Spencer still looks at you like you are the eighth wonder of the world.

You smile at him as you gently push the headband into his hair, keeping it back off his face. It's gotten so long recently — not that you're complaining. You love running your hands through the soft strands, curling them around your fingertips. "You're so cute," you mutter. "My pretty boy."

You can feel the heat of his skin beneath yours as you cup his face between your hands and press a sweet kiss to his lips. Lips parting, tongues teasing each other's, his hands running up and down your sides, pulling you closer by the small of your back.

You break the kiss with a giggle, a string of spit attached between you. "Okay, we need to get started," you say through laughter as he licks his lips.

"One more kiss," he murmurs, leaning in and pecking you gently.

Smiling, you stroke his cheek for a moment before straightening up and reaching over to grab your moisturiser from the nightstand. Spencer watches you intently as you flick open the cap and squeeze some out onto your fingertips.

"It's cold," you warn him before you swipe the moisturiser onto his cheeks and gently rub it into his skin.

He doesn't mind the coldness of the liquid, just focusing on the feeling of your hands on his skin. He is pretty sure that your touch could make anything better.

He isn't sure if he is supposed to have his eyes open or shut as you dab some more onto his face, but he keeps them open so that he can look at you. The look of concentration on your face is so pretty.

He also isn't sure what to do with his hands — should he be touching you, or would that be a distraction? He keeps them lightly resting atop your thighs, knowing you'd tell him if you wanted him to stop touching you.

As you finish moisturising his skin, letting it sit for a few moments, you wipe off your fingers on a tissue and say, "You have really nice skin."

"That sounds like something a serial killer would say," he comments teasingly, a smile on his face.

"Shut up!" you giggle. "It's just a fact. Your skin is nice."

Swapping the moisturiser for a bottle of primer, you fall quiet as you flick open the cap. Soft hums of concentration vibrating through your lips, you rub it into his skin so that the make-up will actually stick to his face. His fingertips lightly trace rub circles onto your thighs as he watches you with nothing but awe and love in his eyes.

As you're blending out the white foundation onto his face with a damp beauty blender — he thinks that's what it is called — he wonders if he will look silly when you're done. Of course, he has never thought that you look silly when your make-up is all done, but he isn't you. To him, you look beautiful whatever you wear, however you present yourself. He's just not sure if this will suit him. Although, even if it looks bad on him, he'd let you do it over and over again until the end of time if it would make you happy.

Now that there is foundation spread evenly across his face, his skin feels kind of weird, but not exactly in a bad way. It almost feels tight, like something is pulling on it. It is a strangely nice sensation.

Spencer tries to stay still as you pat in the concealer beneath his eyes, his eyelids twitching slightly.

"Stop moving," you scold playfully, pausing your actions for a moment.

"I'm trying," he replies, his voice a breathy chuckle.

"Try harder."

"You're so bossy."

"You know you love it."

He smiles, amused. You're right, he does love it. He loves anything and everything that you do. Since the moment he met you, he has been completely whipped. Obsessed. In love.

After finishing the grey-ish contour on his nose and beneath his cheekbones, you start on the eyeliner. You decide to do something simple, rather than the more elaborate designs you sometimes do on yourself. Beginning to draw a wing from the corner of his eye, you will your hand to not shake like it usually does; you don't want to end up getting overly frustrated and having to redraw it fifty times.

Somehow, it goes smoothly, and you finish both wings without a problem. You use a black eyeliner pencil on his waterlines and add a smidge of dark purple eyeshadow to his lids before curling his lashes. How come men always have such luxurious eyelashes? you think.

"Okay, I'm not gonna put on false lashes, I'll just do mascara," you tell him, leaning over to grab one of your unused mascaras from the nightstand.

As you do, you shift too much weight and almost fall off the bed. Quickly, Spencer leans forward steadies you with a hold on your waist. "Careful there, angel," he laughs in a teasing tone. "You're so clumsy sometimes."

"Well, says the one who spilt coffee on the counter twice in one day last week!" you reply, giggling.

"I never claimed to not be clumsy," he counters, patting your thigh. "JJ is right when she says that my coordination drops off when I'm thinking."

"A wise woman," you muse.

"Very."

You smile, kiss his forehead, and grab the mascara. As you twist it open and wipe off the excess, you say, "Okay, just blink when I say to, okay?"

"Okay."

So you apply mascara to his stupidly nice eyelashes, dab a tiny bit of highlighter onto the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose, and put a simple lip combo on his beautiful lips.

"Okay, there. I think it's done," you say. Quickly, you take it back. "Wait, I need to do your hair."

"Alright," he chuckles as you take the headband out of his hair, discarding it onto the nightstand.

You head off into the bathroom to grab your hairbrush, returning a moment later with it and a few hair ties. You manoeuvre him into the position you want — sitting more in the middle of the bed — and sit behind him on your knees.

"Your hair is so soft," you murmur as you gently run your fingers through it.

"You say that every single time you play with my hair," he points out, a smile in his voice.

"And it's true every single time," you reply as you start to brush his hair.

Spencer hums contentedly, his eyes falling shut as you brush his hair. He's always loved when you touch his hair, whether that is stroking it, twisting it around your fingers, or pulling it. He loves it all.

As you brush his hair, taking your time, you wonder if he will like it. You wonder if he's enjoying this. You wonder if he liked letting you put make-up on him.

"I would, maybe, dress you up in my clothes, but I don't think any of them would fit you."

He laughs softly. "Yeah, probably not."

"And my boots certainly wouldn't fit your gigantic feet," you tease.

"Maybe your feet are just tiny," Spencer counters jokingly.

When you're satisfied that his hair is thoroughly brushed, you part it down the middle, separating it into two even-ish sections. You braid each half, something you have always wanted to do with his hair but never asked out of fear of him saying no. But right now, he isn't protesting, which you take as a good sign.

"Okay, all done," you chime happily, letting the braids fall onto his shoulders.

"Done?"

"Mhm, done."

Hopping off the bed, you take his hands in yours and lead him into the bathroom. Before you step inside, you make him cover his eyes as you tell him, "Okay, you can't judge it because I'm not used to doing make-up on other people."

Spencer nods, practically itching to see his reflection. "I won't judge. I promise."

"Good. Okay, you— you can look now," you reply, standing beside him and looking at his reflection in the mirror as he moves his hands away from his face.

His reaction is hard to decipher, but at least he does not look repulsed. After a moment of studying his face, his lips twitch into a smile.

"It looks good."

"Really?" you ask, rocking back and forth on your feet as you fidget with your sleeves.

"Yeah. I— I mean, it's obviously not something I'm used to, but it's... cool," he says with a soft laugh, turning to face you.

You smile, biting your lip. "Good. Okay, good. I'm glad you don't... you know, hate it."

Smiling back at you, Spencer wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head. "I could never hate anything you do."

"You're so cheesy."

[chigiridreams]

THE GREAT RACE

The day of the motorcycle race you’d been waiting for had finally arrived. You had gone through so much to get to this point. It had been six months since you got your license, and now it was time to prove yourself in a real competition.

Before the race, you decided to recharge and get some positive energy from your boyfriend.

Y/N: “Babe, are you coming to watch my race today?”

Hyoma sipped his morning coffee, smiled, and looked at you.

Hyoma: “Of course, I’ll be there to cheer you on. But babe? Are you going to call me that all the time now?”

You flashed him a sweet smile while preparing your helmet.

Y/N: “Yes, because it perfectly suits someone as sweet and kind as you.”

Hyoma giggled, shaking his head.

Hyoma: “Alright, babe. After the race, we’ll have a special celebration for the winner. What do you say?”

Lifting your helmet in the air, you grinned confidently.

Y/N: “Absolutely! But first, you need to cheer for me so loud that your voice echoes across the track. Deal?”

Hyoma: “Deal! I’ll be there cheering for you with all I’ve got.”

Y/N: “What’s my prize if I win?”

Hyoma raised his eyebrows thoughtfully, then smirked.

Hyoma: “Hmm… If you win, I’ll do whatever you want. No objections, no questions asked.”

You gave him a surprised yet delighted look.

Y/N: “No objections? Are you serious?”

Hyoma shrugged.

Hyoma: “Of course! But only if you win. If you lose, no prizes. Agreed?”

Trying on your helmet, you smiled challengingly.

Y/N: “Agreed! Get ready, princess, because I’m going to win, and what I want might just surprise you.”

Hyoma seemed to enjoy the challenge.

Hyoma: “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got. But no matter what, I’ll always be here to support you. Good luck, love.”

Winking at him, you teased:

Y/N: “Luck? Luck is my middle name!”

You wrapped your arms around your boyfriend from behind, planting a kiss on his neck.

Y/N: “I’m going to give it my all for you, princess.”

Hyoma smiled softly at the kiss and tilted his head back to look at you.

Hyoma: “I know you’ll do your best, darling. Just don’t put yourself in danger, okay? There are more important things to me than any race.”

Laughing lightly at his words, you hugged him tighter.

Y/N: “Don’t worry. I don’t need reckless courage to win. But know that I’ll be the fastest one out there—for you. And then I’ll claim my prize.”

Hyoma raised an eyebrow.

Hyoma: “Still thinking about that prize, huh? I don’t know what you’re planning, but it’s not to get rid of me, right?”

Laughing, you pressed your forehead against his.

Y/N: “Oh, princess, get rid of you? Quite the opposite—my prize might just keep you even closer.”

Hyoma smiled, holding your hands.

Hyoma: “Then go rev up that bike, love. Afterward, we’ll celebrate your victory together.”

You plopped sideways onto Hyoma’s lap, catching him off guard but earning a warm hug in return.

Y/N: “But before the race, I need some positive energy from my babe.”

Hyoma chuckled, slightly startled by your move, and hugged you tightly.

Hyoma: “Positive energy, huh? So you came here to recharge. Alright then, I’ll fill you with all the energy you need.”

Leaning your head on his shoulder, you murmured:

Y/N: “Just being in your arms is energy enough. But maybe I deserve a little extra?”

Hyoma tightened his hold on you, gently inhaling the scent of your hair.

Hyoma: “Ah, our amazing racer needs some extra support, huh? Alright, all my positivity is yours.”

You lifted your head, pouting playfully at him.

Y/N: “Not just positivity. A kiss might just put me in turbo mode.”

Laughing, Hyoma replied, “Turbo mode, huh? Alright, brace yourself,” and kissed you deeply.

Pulling away with a laugh, you grinned.

Y/N: “Now I’m ready to rev up the bike, princess. Watch me and celebrate my victory!”

Hyoma: “Just don’t crush my knee while charging up, okay, love?”

Hearing his playful warning, you quickly leaned back, a guilty smile on your face.

Y/N: “Ah, sorry, babe! I guess I got a little too excited before the race.”

Hyoma laughed softly, running a hand through your hair.

Hyoma: “As long as you go easy on me, the energy flow won’t break.”

With a playful laugh, you kissed his cheek.

Y/N: “I’d never hurt you, princess. Now wish me luck.”

Hyoma kissed your forehead.

Hyoma: “You don’t need luck. You’ve got me, your biggest fan.”

After practicing for a while, you headed to the race track. The atmosphere was electric, with roaring engines and cheering spectators. Dressed in your racing gear, you looked over at Hyoma and winked.

Standing among the crowd, Hyoma tried to get as close as possible, cupping his hands around his mouth to shout:

Hyoma: “Go full throttle, love! But no crashes, okay?”

Hearing his voice, you waved and winked back.

Y/N: “Babe, I won’t come back without the win. Get my prize ready!”

As the race began, Hyoma cheered louder than anyone, watching you fiercely compete with the other racers. Your determination and skill made it clear—you were destined to win.

Crossing the finish line first, you felt the rush of victory as the crowd erupted in applause. Hyoma’s face lit up with pride as he pushed through the crowd to reach you.

Throwing your arms around him, you laughed.

Y/N: “I won! Did you see that?”

Hyoma hugged you tightly, lifting you off the ground.

Hyoma: “You were amazing! I knew you’d do it!”

Setting you down, he kissed your forehead.

Hyoma: “That trophy is yours, but the victory kiss is mine!”

With a playful grin, you teased:

Y/N: “A kiss? Don’t you think you deserve something better?”

Hyoma laughed, pulling you close.

Hyoma: “We’ll celebrate together tonight, but for now, let me keep cheering for my champion.”

As the two of you basked in the moment, whispers from the crowd caught your attention.

“She called him ‘princess’ just now. Isn’t that weird?”

“Maybe that’s just their thing. But it’s unusual, right?”

Hyoma, overhearing the comments, looked at you with a mischievous grin.

Hyoma: “Hear that? We’re a weird couple.”

You shrugged with a carefree laugh.

Y/N: “Let them talk. We’re happy—that’s all that matters.”

Turning back to the crowd, Hyoma called out loudly:

Hyoma: “Yeah, I’m her princess. Got a problem with that?”

Laughter rippled through the spectators as you nudged him playfully.

Y/N: “You’re too cute, but we’re attracting too much attention!”

Grabbing your hand, Hyoma laughed.

Hyoma: “Attracting attention with you is my favorite thing.”

And with that, the two of you walked away, leaving the world behind to celebrate your victory together.

To be continued in Part 2

[alittledizzy]

dnf, curious, crawl, capture

okay idk what this is really but enjoy(?) it!

George is beyond drunk, and that's obvious to anyone that can see. He's drunker than Dream has ever seen and something about the caged animal look in his eye made Dream put his own drink down a few hours ago.

He's glad for that now. Everyone else has scattered; Sapnap upstairs with someone on his arm, a few of their other guests realizing that they weren't going to make the kind of connections they wanted and just leaving.

Dream holds no ire over the fact that he could be in bed with a pretty blonde right now. Not when George is capturing his full attention, crawling across the floor with his head bowed.

"What are you doing?" Dream asks, curious. If George is looking for a place to puke, he's going to call his mom to come take care of this.

"Trying to find it," George says. His voice is thick and slurred.

"Find what?" Dream pushes forward off his own chair, letting his knees hit the carpet.

"What I lost," George says. He sounds annoyed and stands straight on his knees, then wobbles and comes back down hard on his ass.

He stares right at Dream with his eyes wide and surprised and then, to Dream's shock and mild horror, they start to fill with tears.

Dream has never seen George cry. Not actually cry, not real tears.

"What did you lose?" Dream asks urgently.

"I don't know," George says, and sniffs so hard Dream can hear the snot going up his nose. He pushes his hands into his hair and it takes in his fingers, making him yank.

Dream knee-walks to him and grabs George's wrists, gently extricating his fingers from where the strands capture them. "If you tell me, I can help you look."

George's clumsy fingers touch the sides of Dream's face. He blinks and the sheen of wet is still there. One fat teardrop escapes where it's been swimming in his waterline. "Something in my head."

"George..." Dream is still holding his wrists, but puts up no resistance when George's fingers press into Dream's lips, dragging the soft skin back and forth with the pressure of the touch.

"I lost this," George says, and taps Dream's mouth, probably in what he thinks is a delicate way. "Lost you kissing me."

"We've never kissed," Dream says, confused. "Not really."

"Lost you," George says again.

Dream feels confusion on a bone-deep level. George has never felt further away and more of a mystery. "You didn't lose me."

George jerks away at being disagreed with. "Yeah," he says, nodding too hard, then wincing. "Whatever."

"No, George," Dream says, and grabs him back. When George fights for even an instant, Dream lets go.

"I don't feel good," George says.

Dream takes him to the toilet, his own toilet so they don't have to navigate the stairs, and he sits on his bed listening to George be sick and then clean himself up.

When George comes out he looks yellow with nausea and his eyes are even redder than before. Dream has no idea if it's allergies or the force of being sick or something else.

"Will you stay in here with me tonight?" Dream asks.

George nods and crawls into a bed he's never actually slept in before. He seems limp and lifeless and so un-Georgelike, no fight in him at all.

Dream lets impulse carry his arms around George. "Can we talk about what you said tomorrow?"

"I'll forget," George whispers.

"Can I remind you?"

"I won't want to," George says.

"I know." Dream does know. He knows George, though maybe not quite as well as he thought he did.

There's something there locked away in Dream's mind that Dream has never caught on to. The can feel the need to rise to the challenge building inside of him.

He doesn't want George to ever look at him like that again. He looks at George asleep now and snoring. His skin is still mottled and his breath smells like Dream's mouthwash with a lawyer of sick underneath. The skin under his eyes looks so bruised it may have well been battered.

George didn't look sad. He had, for just a moment, looked heartbroken. Dream can take it from anyone else, but - not George.

Not George, and there's a reason why. Dream knows what that reason is and why he always chose to not let that surface.

But deep down he has a feeling whatever conversation they have tomorrow and whatever George has to say - or try not to say - to him, some things are going to see the light of day that they've both been trying to bury.

[redtippedfox]

Deserved

(Hi! This is writing practice! I wanted to practice writing emotions and dialogue so enjoy this snippet I wrote!)

----------------------------

The rain was beating down hard on Carapace's suit the droplets sliding off gently as he stood strong in the rain his gaze hard as he held his ground. He gritted his teeth trying his best to keep the shell-ter standing. The beast caught inside thrashed about in pure uncaged rage. Chat Blanc even with his hands magically restrained by Rooster Bolds power was too powerful as he beat against the force field, throwing his body against it while hissing. 

“NO! LET ME OUT! NO!” Chat Blanc screamed, his voice so filled with rage that it made Carapace shiver. Carapace bit back a grunt as Chat Blanc slammed against the shell-ter again but with more force. 

Behind Carapace was his team, and an unconscious adult Ladybug who had collapsed mid-battle, her nose and eyes bleeding from the overuse amount of Miraculous magic. Master Fu was by her side with the grimoire open trying his best to find a cure, next to him was younger Ladybug and an extremely worried younger Chat Noir. Rena Rouge was crying as the bleeding continued and Ladybug wasn’t responding to her calls.

“NO! SHE’S MINE! MARINETTE IS MINE!” he demands, his emotions raw and powerful in his scream. Carapace stared concerned as Chat Blanc thrashed in his cage. His cries and shouts were like something Nino had never heard before they seemed angry and desperate.

“LET ME OUT! PLEASE! LET ME SEE HER!” he slams into the shield again, but this time it’s weak. “PLEASE! MARINETTE! PLEASE…please I need to see her…” In disbelief, Carapace sees Chat Blanc slowly stop thrashing as he falls to his knees his hair a mess from all his thrashing around. 

“Marinette…My lady…I need to see her.” He begged, and his head, which the tyrant had held so high minutes before, hung heavy again. His snow-white hair covered his face as he quietly begged.

Caracpace felt his heart ache at the sight but remained concentrated, he couldn’t allow Chat Blanc to get anywhere near Ladybug. 

“Please…Nino, PLEASE! Let me out! Let me go! She needs me!”

Carapace’s fist tightens, he needs to stay focused, and he needs to concentrate.

“Please…PLEASE I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT HER! MARINETTE!””

Focus!

“Please I love her! I can’t lose her! I can’t lose her…not again. Nino, please! PLEASE! LET ME OUT!”

Carapace froze, Chat Blanc looked up at him with begging eyes full of fear, tears raining from his eyes so endlessly. It was hard to see this as the same crazed man who was destroying Paris minutes ago. His face was a pitiful one, with saddened worried eyes that looked so traumatized and empty but also filled with longing for the woman he had been in love with for 12 years.

“Nino…she’ll die. Please I beg you, let me out, she needs me…If she dies then I have no reason to LIVE!” he screams.

Caracpace slips, he had never understood how deeply Chat Noir loved Ladybug, like everyone else he thought it was cute but now he had the full picture. Chat Noir was so undyingly in love with Ladybug, in love with Marinette that he would beg and lose any dignity he had for her.

 That he was willing to wait 12 years, even longer till he could finally be with her. How hard it must have been to ignore the loneliness and the desire he had for her, how painful it must have been to be alone for so many years when the one he loved wanted him just as much but couldn’t be with him. How heartbreaking it must have been to see her every day and not be able to love her, to not know who his love was, and to have to endure that for years.

Nino couldn’t imagine not being able to love Alya like that, to be forced to love her in the shadows in fear of losing her. To not be able to kiss her, or hug her, or even tell her how much he loved her. 

Nino was sure he would have rather died than have that fate.

But Chat Noir did have that fate…and so did Marinette.

“Nino…I can’t lose her, she’s my world, my life, she’s my love. Please…please…let me go to her.”

Carapace breaks, the shield falls and the only thing he sees is Chat Blanc running past him.

For a second Nino thinks, perhaps he was wrong. Adrien didn’t deserve Marinette, Chat Noir did.

Chat Noir had always been the right pick for Marinette.

[wyrdhearth]

@andthe6 gets a starter daisy jones ➵ billy dunne.

❝ 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞. everyone else just... saw what they wanted to see. guess that explains why my mom never really saw me to begin with. ❞ they were sitting close together, a gap between them roughly the length of ten fingers. daisy knew, because she'd set her whole hand there, hoping billy's would somehow find it. she took a slow breath, inhaling salt air and the breeze, hoping it would carry the scent of billy's aftershave over to her. ❝ that thing you said about your dad, at teddy's place? I felt that all the time, growing up. music was the only thing that kept the thought out of my head. figures that the moment I had something to show off... they weren't there anymore. ❞

the silence was painful, but daisy laughed. she always did; it was easier that way.

❝ anyway... simone was the first person who saw me. and then there was you. ❞ her smile widened. ❝ and you hated me. ❞