#no but why does he look like he just got home from work and he’s talking about dinner options with the love of his life on the phone?

[ruinix]

hi i’m just here to drop in and mention how bad Quinn wants to leave marks on your body. he doesn’t care where or how he just needs to see him on you at all times ya know?

Halloo, love, my lovely moot😚. I’m sorry it took me long. I blame my two braincells. They got distracted. [Also... i totally didnt try to repost this (i did, but it didnt happen...😭 sorry)] Here it is...ummm.... i think i have veered off in a different path. Sorry...🧎🏻‍♀️

CW/TW: 18+ MDNI, Smut or smut(ish), Sloppy kisses and Marking, Slightest bit of choking, Quinn being a love sick fool 🙂‍↔️

Count: 1448 words | Masterlist

One. Two. Three. Hmmm, that’s not right. Quinn swears he left you four marks on your neck…Why the fuck are you bundled up after all the hard work he did?

He could feel his irritation bubble up his throat, but he swallows it down—crossing his arms, eyebrows drawn—as he tracks your movement across the apartment. You’re doing miscellaneous cleaning, dusting here and there, dancing along with whatever music blasting in your headphones.

You look cute, really. Pretty and cozy in your matching sweatpants and your crewneck sweater. The colors are soft and makes your skin glow. The fit is oversized. You demanded that size when you got him to buy it—he bought five sets for you, because you rarely request something. You are even wearing your comfy and grippy socks. Adorable, really. Really—Fuck. What the fuck? Are you covering him—his marks—up? Didn’t you say you love them last night?

Before he could spiral, you finally notice him. Whatever complaints he has disintegrated to nothing. Your smile with the twinkle in your eyes takes his breath away. When you squeal and run towards him, his arms instantly drop, spreading to give in your hug. You smell like fresh laundry. Home. You smell like home. His home.

Quinn melts into your touch, head dipping where your neck and shoulders meet. His eyes dart from one mark after the other. Where is the other one?

 “Quinn, you’re home! How’s your day? How’s practice?” you ramble on, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek.

“All good. I had fun,” he murmurs, slightly parting from you. “How’s yours?”

You happily recount your day—cleaning, work, watching a show, taking a good and satisfying bath. Quinn guesses that this day is for a nonlinear storytelling, which he has no complaints about. He could get lost in your voice, that’s like the soft patters of rain, like the soft breeze in summer, like the rustle of leaves, like soft chirps of birds. Your voice is like every calming tune of nature. Soothing. Nurturing. That’s what you do to his soul.

Mix that with how firmly your arms are wrapped around his torso, hands slipping into his shirt. They smoothen over his muscles, tracing his spine, causing shivers to run down his fucking soul. Oh, the effect you have on him, but that doesn’t appease him as it usually does. Not one bit—fine, maybe just slightly—because where the fuck is it?

While you talk about a grocery list, Quinn carefully rubs your arms and your shoulders. When he thumbs the column of your neck, you instantly pause, shuddering, breaths picking up. You look at him with wide eyes. The blush staining your cheeks deepens. Cute.

Quinn slips his thumb into your collar and tugs. He almost gets distracted with the goosebumps on your skin. Almost. Because there it is. The fourth mark. It’s just hiding under the edge. Still red and purple, the same shade as the other three. Still so beautiful on your skin. So fucking beautiful.

“Quinn?” you call, confusion etched in your face. “Did I lose you?”

Lose him? Never. You will never lose him. You’re stuck with him. He will chase you no matter where you go, stand beside you, hold your hands every step of the way.

You know that, but you’re still pouting. As second ticks, your confusion turns into annoyance. Your eyebrows furrow. You’re such a brat sometimes. It makes him want to kiss you, so he does. Your arms hook over his nape. The way your lips instantly part sends blood rushing down his groin. You’re always so eager, parting your thighs for his leg to step between.

“You ignored me,” you murmur, nipping at his lip. “You can’t ignore me.”

Fuck. That feels good.

“Not ignoring you. I heard everything you said,” Quinn whispers back in between kisses. “You know that, brat.”

He feels your smile, hears your giggle. He’s so fucked. Even that turns him on. With how your eyes shine, you know you had him in a chokehold. Well, he can have you in a chokehold too. Literally. So, he gives your neck a squeeze. A small whimper comes out your lips.

“Quinn.”

Your name spills out from his lips as a response.

You moan like he’s already fucking you, grinding your clothed cunt over his thigh. He pushes it up, letting you take all the friction you want.

When he goes for another kiss, your lips are already parted, tongue out, waiting for his. You beautiful siren. Quinn can’t hold in his growl as he meets it.

The kiss is sloppy, messy, and hungry. Your spits mixing. Your tongues lashing. Your teeth bumping and nipping each other’s lips. So different from the first one just a while ago. So different, yet utterly the same—full of love, lust, and devotion. So fucking good.

Quinn grinds his hard-on against you, raising his thigh to help you chase your high, but he stops. Not yet. You can’t come just yet. Your whines fill his ears as he parts from you. Tears threaten to spill as you try, try, and fucking try to get him to kiss you again. To get him to let you ride his thigh again. To get him to fuck himself on you.

You have to wait.

“Maybe,” he mutters against your lips, almost laughing when your tongue darts out to gaud him for another kiss. Little seductress. Quinn impatiently tugs on your sweatshirt. “Maybe you should get rid of this, yeah?”

He nearly preens when you nod—desperately and utterly wrecked. His hands shake as he helps you pull it off.

Fuck. You’re just wearing an almost-sheer crop top underneath. Your nipples are already taut, begging for him to touch, to kiss, to suck. Your low neckline showcases your beautiful skin littered with different shades of kiss marks. Some are old. Some are new. All his.

Yet. Not. Enough.

Not when there are still lots of blank spaces of skin to mark. Not when many of them are already fading. Not when you can still hide them. He doubts it will ever be enough. He just needs him on you.

His kiss marks.

Different from cum and spit which you—or he, depending on your mood—wash away.

Different from the occasional fingerprint bruises he leaves on your hips and thighs from holding you so tightly as he fucked you until you couldn’t stop cumming, until he’s left with watery cum or with nothing because your sweet pussy already sucked him dry.

Different because it shows the whole world how he worshipped you, your skin, your being.

Different but they always come one after another. He can’t have you all marked up with your pussy unsatisfied, can he? No. That’s not possible. An offence that he would rather die than commit.

“You’re so pretty,” he breathes, grazing his knuckles over your ribs. His other hand tenderly holds our hips, keeping them pressed against his, not letting you do anything else. “So pretty.”

He nearly chokes on those words. He relishes the feel of your hands on his shoulders, fingers casually tugging the tips of his hair—a demand for him to stop fucking around.

Well, can you blame him for taking his time? He just loves you so much.

Then, your little tugs turn more desperate, fingers wrapping around his locks. You tug on his hair like you want to rip it off, but you would ease and scratch his scalp effectively seducing him.

But first, he needs to remedy his problem. He grips your arms, holding them against the wall, as he partakes on your skin. The way you surrender—when he starts sucking and adding marks on your neck, even craning it to give him more access—almost made him fall to his knees. Oh, he is essentially on his knees, because you are his love, his law, his Goddess. He is always kneeling for you. His existence is nothing without you now. He can only beg that you always be with him—of course, he will ensure that.

But he can’t be on his knees right now. How can he reach your neck then? How can he hold you up when you are melting with every suck and lick and kiss then?

Later, he can be on his knees. Later, when he needs to mark up your belly, your hips, your thighs, the creases between them that leads to your pussy, and your beautiful fucking ass. Later.

Right now, he needs to mark up your neck to show everyone—honestly, just him, fuck everyone else—that you are his and his alone.

[leighsartworks216]

could I request it being the first time ur in a relationship for valentine's and youre not sure how to make it special for sylus because you've never celebrated before ? :)

My First Valentine

Sylus x gn!Reader

I wrote most of this today even tho the request came in a week ago ��� sorry

Warnings: fluff, anxiety, nervousness, embarrassment, kissing, gift giving, flowers, Valentine's Day, insecurity, declarations of love, established relationship, pet names, reader is implied as being shorter/smaller than Sylus

Word Count: 1,922

Main Masterlist

First - Second - Third LADS Masterlists

AO3

Tag List Form

'45 Fun And Romantic Valentine's Day Date Ideas!' '13 Fun Valentine's Day Activities!' '25+ Romantic Things To Do This Valentine's Day!'

You sigh, closing yet another tab of holiday ideas. You don't know how many websites you've looked at now, all of them promising fantastic gifts or experiences, sure to sweep your partner off their feet. But none of them felt good enough. Not for Sylus.

All your life, Valentine's Day was another lonely day. Your friends and their partners would be out and about or getting together at home, and you'd be stuck in pjs, eating ice cream and watching the same cheesy rom-coms as the year before. The most you'd ever gotten out of the day was in school, when you'd get those little themed cards with a heart-shaped lollipop poked through them.

Now that you have a partner, every single thing you come across feels too cheesy, or like something he wouldn't be into. Not to mention, anything you could possibly buy, he could get on his own with his gobs of money.

Go on a trip? He owns his own private jet; he could go anywhere anytime.

Buy him flowers? More likely than not, they'd wilt twice as fast in the darkness of the N109 Zone.

Dinner at a restaurant means you'd have to find some really fancy place to suit his tastes to make sure he has a nice time. Cooking something yourself could hardly compare to his professional private chef's cooking.

You could get him some vinyls, but you'd hate to get him a duplicate. Weapons? Well, he's got that covered; he deals them.

Asking Luke and Kieran is a non-starter when they're equally as likely to give you good advice as fake advice that would make you look foolish.

You can't fathom how your friends make it look so easy to make plans for the day and get gifts for their partners. Though, you suppose, none of them are dating a multi-billionaire (if not multi-trillionaire or more) crime boss.

You sigh and close your laptop with a snap. What does Sylus enjoy that you can treat him to as a special holiday treat? Something you can feasibly accomplish before the actual day rolls around? Something other than a cheap visit to the arcade or the cat cafe...

Wait... Actually...

Sylus knows you live in rather modest means. He always insists you pay with his black card so you're not stressing about going broke. Why would he suddenly expect you to dish out wads of cash now on a trip or gift? Anything you give him - even if it's a cheap toy from the dollar store - he'd cherish like a gem.

And that's when the idea forms.

With all the preparations written down, you text him, bubbling with energy.

Syyyy

You seem rather playful all of a sudden. What's got you excited, kitten?

You can tell all that from one word??

No, I can tell all that because I know you

Awe 🥺 stop being so cute

Anyway!! I actually wanted to tell you that I have Valentine's Day all worked out!

Oh?

But it's a secret!

Well now I'm interested. What do I need to do for these plans of yours?

Just show up at my place at nightfall on the day of :3

That's it? Why do I feel like I'm being lured into a trap?

Oh yeah the worst trap of all a doting partner who wants to pour all their love on you

Alright. I'll see you then, kitten

But don't think I'll be showing up empty handed

I'd be concerned if you did ngl

Ily <3333333 Goodnighttt

Goodnight, sweetie. I love you too

-

For how simple your plan is - or perhaps because of how simple your plan is - you've never been more nervous in your life. You've double and triple checked everything, made sure he'll be comfortable and not too disappointed with what you've come up with, and second-guessed yourself several times about whether this is actually a good idea.

Not that it matters. You'd be really down to the wire to come up with something new now.

You pace the living room, wringing your hands together, chewing your lip, fussing with your hair. You feel like a dog excited to see its owner when you hear a patterned knock on the door. So excited you nearly trip over the corner of a blanket in your haste to answer it.

Sylus is there to greet you, an easy grin on his face and softened eyes. A large bouquet that you'd drown in rests deceptively small in the crook of his arm. A bag hangs from his other hand, but he sets it down when you step into the hall to hug him.

He chuckles fondly, squeezing you tightly to him and kissing your head. "You look cozy," he teases playfully. His fingers tug at the back of your pajamas.

You laugh nervously as you step back. "Ah, yeah. It's part of the stuff I planned, actually."

He quirks an eyebrow. "I'm a bit overdressed."

"Don't worry! I got you some!" Your face grows hot. You feel like an idiot, flustered and inexperienced. "Come in, so I can explain better."

You take the bouquet from his arm. It's full of your favorite flowers, their delightful aroma tickling your nose as you carry them into the kitchen to look for a vase. You have to rely on your muscle memory to move around; they completely block your vision. Sylus follows in after you with his bag, peering around the little space of your apartment. He'd offered to get you a bigger one, once. Somewhere with a view, soundproof walls, and all the upgraded appliances you ogled in the stores. But you refused, and he respected that, even if it meant being inconvenienced by the lack of space for someone of his size.

His eyes land on the couch, covered in blankets of all sizes. Various DVDs cover the coffee table alongside a neatly folded pair of pajamas. It's cluttered, but purposefully so, as if the mess has been built into the experience.

You find a vase (bought after the first time he bought you flowers that you had to divvy up between various drinking cups) and settle the bouquet on the small dining table. There's no room left for two people to eat there. You come back out looking a mite more disheveled than before.

You smile awkwardly up at him, eyes flickering from his face to your setup as you rock back and forth on your feet. "So! Um, I've never actually had a partner to celebrate Valentine's Day with before, so I used to get a bunch of ice cream, maybe some takeout, and I'd just spend the night on the couch with a bunch of cheesy rom-coms. And now we're together and I didn't know what I could do because you can have anything you want at any given moment. But, um, I just thought, for my first Valentine's Day with someone, I could... share my 'tradition' with you." You exhale a shaky breath. "I know it's probably not what you were expecting..."

"Sweetie," he gently interrupts your rambling. He sets the bag on the couch, then closes the space between you, holding your face in both his hands, urging you to meet his eyes. They shine with something warm and sweet, like cherry wine. "It's not what I was expecting, but it's better than anything I could have imagined."

You scoff. "You're just saying that."

He shakes his head. "I can't buy a tradition, sweetie. This is something that means a lot to you. I'm fortunate enough to be the one person who gets to share it with you; no amount of money could do that."

Your heart feels light. It floats around your chest like a balloon filled with helium. Butterflies flutter in your stomach to join in on the fun. Is this how your friends felt with their partners? It's addicting. You try to blink away the incoming tears before they can form.

"What did you bring?" you ask suddenly, redirecting the conversation away so you can have a chance to gather yourself.

Fortunately, he lets you have it. With a knowing smirk, he kisses your forehead and steps away back to the couch. You miss the proximity immediately.

He pulls out each item one by one, holding it up to show you. "Wine. I can't say anything about how it'll taste, but the label was pretty, so I thought you'd like it." He sets it on the coffee table.

"You mentioned that you liked to go to the store the day after to buy the discounted candy. Well, it wasn't discounted, but I grabbed a variety." Those remain in the bag, but he has to shift it all around to reach something at the bottom.

He seems the most proud of - and the most nervous for - this one. He glances over at you before he pulls it out, as though double checking he has your attention. From the bag comes a hoodie, that he holds by the shoulders to let it unfold. It's nothing too special to look at, but the size is what strikes you. When he holds it up, it's clearly the perfect size for him. His ears tinge pink as he holds it out for you.

"You complained once that I don't have any hoodies for you to steal, like other couples do," he reminds you, voice soft and vulnerable.

He watches carefully as you step forward and reach out to feel the material. It's soft. So soft. You take it into your arms. The familiar scent of Sylus wafts up from the fabric; his body wash, his cologne, him. You hold it up to your nose to smell it better as you look up at him in awe.

"I wore it for a couple days," he admits. "If you don't like it, I can-"

"I love it." You really are going to cry now. You step forward, clinging the hoodie to your chest as he wraps his arms around you. "Sy, this means so much to me. I'm never gonna be able to take it off."

He chuckles. His arms squeeze you just a bit tighter, pull you a bit closer. "I'm glad. You're my first Valentine, too."

You pull back enough to look up at him. Your eyes are glassy, surprise to earnest on your face. "Wha- Really?"

"You sound surprised."

"Well, I mean, I just- You're so... you. That's a compliment, by the way."

"I was waiting for the right partner," he says with a huff of laughter. He dips his head down, soft lips capturing yours in a meaningful kiss. When he speaks again, it's in soft murmurs between kisses. "I'll go change... into the pajamas you got me... and then... we can watch... your movies."

The butterflies are back in full force. Each kiss has them flittering about, doing swoops and swirls in your stomach, wings tickling your insides. "Okay... Mm, but, stay here a bit longer..."

He smiles against your lips, hands sliding up your body to hold your face as he tilts his head, yearning to taste more of you, feel more of you. "Love you, sweetheart..."

You blindly set the hoodie on the arm of the couch to hold his fancy shirt in both hands, drawing him closer, knuckles brushing against the defined muscle beneath the fabric. "I love you, Sylus... Mm, so much... so much..."

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08 @lunaizhere @sine-nomine0 @beautifulthingsiadore @lalaluch @burningtrashgentleman

[reidsgfbf]

sweet lips on mine || s. reid

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summary: after an incident with a hickey after spending the night, spencer decides to confront you about your nightly habits, only to get sidetracked warnings!: fem! reader!, unprotected p in v intercourse (wrap it before you tap it babes), hickeys, oral (f receiving), coming in pants (m), coming on stomach, the team tease spencer about the hickey, aftercare is implied but not outright mentioned i don't think a/n: ahh! my first smut fic, and just in time for valentines day too!! i hope you all enjoy!

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊ 

Spencer really should have known better than to stay at yours last night. But, alas, when the thunderstorm had started last night, and you had looked at him with those wide, innocent eyes of yours, begging him to stay the night, because ‘you know how many accidents there are during storms, Spence’, he had folded immediately. And now, here he was, late for work; with his shirt haphazardly tucked into his slacks, his tie loosened and his hair messy. He wasn’t even aware of the mark visible on his Adam’s apple that you had made whilst fast asleep. 

Though that lack of awareness did not last long, as the moment he walked into the bullpen, Morgan let out a loud whistle, attracting attention to him. JJ giggled, but tried to hide it behind her hand, though the way her blue eyes sparkled gave it away instantly. 

“Looks like someone had a good night.” Morgan wiggled his brows suggestively. 

“What? What do you mean?” Spencer furrowed his brows. 

“One, you’re late, two, your clothes are a mess, and three, you have a hickey the size of a cent on your neck.” Emily replied, and he turned bright red, the flush travelling up his neck to his hairline. 

After all, he could have sworn that he’d kept it chaste with you during the night. Nonetheless, he resolved himself to have a stern word with you when he got back to yours. 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊ 

Finally, Spencer got home, (‘since when had he been calling your apartment home?’ a voice in the back of his mind wondered), and he found you in the bedroom, trying on some new clothes you’d bought, some discarded on the bed, some on the floor surrounding you. Well, clothes was a loose term. They were more like scraps of lacy fabric. You were currently modelling a pretty lilac bra, with tulle ruffles on the cups, and matching panties, that looked like they were made from ribbons. 

Spencer’s breath hitched, and all thoughts of reprimanding you for the hickey flew out of his mind, as blood began to rush down to his cock. You looked stunning, especially in the light of the fake candles you had compromised on when Spencer had panicked about you having actual candles burning whilst you slept. 

You turned around, and startled when you saw Spencer in the doorway, covering yourself up self-consciously. “Spencer! I didn’t hear you come in!” 

“Don’t cover yourself up, please, baby.” Spencer breathed, approaching you with a reverent look in his eyes, like you were an angel, sent down from the heavens to tempt foolish mortals like him. Once he was stood in front of you, he dropped to his knees, holding your hips as he stared up at you. Your cheeks flushed red, and a shy smile appeared on your face. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” you murmured, brushing a lock of his soft brown hair away from his face. The scent of honey wafted up, a reminder of his sweet shampoo. 

“Why?” he asked breathlessly, still gazing at you softly. 

A soft laugh bubbled from your lips. “It does things to me, Spen. So many things.” 

A smile stretched across Spencer’s lips and he laughed. “You do things to me, every day.” he admitted. “When you wake up in the morning, your hair all messy, when you find something you like and bring it home or take a photograph to show me, when you do so many little mundane things, that just make you look like an angel.” 

Heat rose up in your cheeks, and another laugh escaped you. “Spen-” 

“Let me worship you, please.” Spencer pleaded, cutting you off. “You deserve to be worshipped, baby. If you are an angel, then I am your most devout follower, worshipping the very ground you step on, and every breath you take, amazed that you even deign to breathe the same air as me.” 

Those words made you melt, and you let out a dreamy sigh. “Oh, Spencer.” 

“Can I make love to you, please?” he asked, his hazel eyes sparkling with adoration. How could you resist those pretty puppy dog eyes? Or the way his voice dropped to a whisper on the last word? 

“Darling, you don’t have to ask.” you replied, thumb tracing his lower lip as your fingers danced over his jawline. Spencer rose, and quickly cleared the bed, before grabbing your hips once more and laying you down on the plush duvet cover, and peppering soft kisses all over your face and neck. 

His hands wandered, finding their way to the fastener of your bra, waiting for your permission. You nodded, and he obeyed, his hands fumbling with the garment in his excitement. Once the garment was off, he chucked it over his shoulder and immediately began lavishing attention on your breasts, nibbling at the soft flesh, before latching his mouth onto a nipple, sucking and licking until it was hard, before doing the same to the other one. Then, he trailed kisses down your abdomen, until he reached the waistband of your panties. Without waiting for permission, he wormed them off you, and threw them behind him to join your bra, revealing your lower lips, glistening with your arousal. His cheeks flushed at the obscene sight, though the way his pupils dilated belied his true feelings. 

He spread your thighs gently with his hands, to reveal your pussy in all its glory; the swollen and throbbing nub that was your clitoris, the flushed look of your lips, and the slick arousal coming from your entrance. The sweet yet musky smell of your essence wafted up to his nose and he groaned, before hitching your legs up over his shoulders and diving into your pussy, beginning with a bold lick with the flat of his tongue, before settling on your clit, sucking and flicking the pearl with his tongue, eliciting a simply pornographic moan from you. He groaned against your pussy at the sound, feeling more blood rush down to his cock, which throbbed against the zipper of his trousers, making you moan again with the vibrations. He rutted slightly against the mattress as he ate you out, subconsciously craving relief. 

“Oh, Spencer!” you whined, hands reaching down to fist in Spencer’s hair. 

He continued his ministrations, slipping a finger into your entrance, seeking out the spongy tissue that consisted of your sweet spot. He curled his finger and was delighted to hear you whimper, tugging on his hair as a wave of pleasure washed over you. He inserted another finger and began pistoning them in and out as he suckled on your clit. 

Finally, your climax hit you with full force, and with a broken gasp, you came, arching your back and tightening your grip in Spencer’s hair as your arousal gushed over the lower half of his face. He continued to lick and suckle your clit through your orgasm, his hips stuttering as he spilled into his trousers. Once you came down from the high, he pulled away, pulling out his fingers and licking them clean, before wiping your fluids from his face with the back of his hand. You didn’t mention the wet spot on the front of his slacks, as he kissed you softly, letting you taste yourself on his lips. 

When he pulled away, that reverent expression was on his face once more. “Round two?” he asked, but you held up a hand, quickly grabbing your bottle of Pepsi and taking a swig to try and soothe your suddenly dry throat. Once you had recovered, you nodded. 

“Round two.” 

Spencer smiled and made quick work of his clothes, discarding them in the general direction of the lingerie you had been wearing. His cock was still hard, as if he hadn’t come only a few moments ago, the tip flushed a dusky pink, the veins crisscrossing the shaft throbbing with need. He wasn’t too big, perhaps a little above average, but his slimness made it seem bigger compared to the rest of him. A trimmed garden of curls surrounded the base of his cock, which meant sometimes his precome would drip into the curls. 

He rubbed the leaking head against your slit, moaning at the sensation, before lining himself up with your entrance. Slowly, but surely, he pushed in, sheathing himself inch by agonising inch. Once he was fully seated, he gave you a moment to adjust, before gently beginning to fuck you. No, fuck was too coarse of a word, it was more like making soft, sweet love. 

The pace was slow and gentle, as he nuzzled your neck and whispered sweet nothings in your ear, leaving little hickeys to bloom on your soft skin with each pass of his mouth. Perhaps this was his payback for the night before. 

Eventually, you were close once more to falling off the precipice into bliss. “Ah- Spencer, I’m gonna-” your words were cut off as your orgasm crashed over you, trailing off into a moan. Spencer was close too, and pulled out, his seed spurting out over your mound and stomach, painting it with lewd streaks of white. 

Once the two of you had cleaned up and recovered, you both snuggled up on the bed, ready for sleep to pull both of you into its warm embrace. It was then Spencer remembered what he had meant to talk to you about. 

“Oh yeah, where’d this hickey come from?” he pointed to the mark, and was surprised at how shy you looked. 

“I... bite in my sleep.” you admitted. “Sorry.” 

[nakylvr]

— BACK TO ME

daniela avanzini x fem!reader

summary જ⁀➴ after an argument breaks out and hurtful things are thrown, you leave for a few days, and daniela realizes just how much she needs you

warnings/tags જ⁀➴ angst with happy ending, language, established relationship, dealer!dani au, arguments

now playing જ⁀➴ back to me by the rose

things had been straining recently. with tax season coming up you spent most of your days after work trying to figure out how to not get completely fucked over and get a ton of money taken out. you also got promoted at your job, which was both a blessing and a curse. more money was always a good thing, but your patience was already wearing thin when the argument started.

you had just gotten home, wanting nothing more than to relax when you realized daniela wasn't in the apartment. too tired, you shrug it off and lay down on the couch, still in your work clothes, not bothering to change. you ended up falling asleep faster than you anticipated.

when the front door opened, it was dark outside. you could hear it, but you couldn't find it in you to get up.

"yn?" daniela's voice is heard quietly. "what are you doing on the couch?"

you hum, opening your eyes groggily and looking up at her. "where were you?" you mumble.

"had to run out real quick," she answers. "come on, let's go to bed."

"for hours?" you say before you can think.

daniela's expression changes at your words, but you don't notice past the dark in the room. "i needed to do some stuff," she responds. "i'm sorry." she doesn't know why she's saying it. most likely out of fear that this conversation will spiral out of control after all the bullshit that happened earlier in the year. she doesn't want a fight right now, and she's trying to keep it from happening.

"who were you with?" you ask, slowly sitting up.

"minji," daniela answers truthfully. "she needed some help getting a gift for hanni, then she came with me for a deal that i had to do on the way back."

your eyebrows furrowed together, looking back at her. "you let her go along with you?" you inquired.

"yeah?" dani replies, but it comes out unsure. "i knew you were getting off work late and i didn't want to bother you."

"but you let minji go with you?" you press. "you told me i was the only one."

"well, yes. but minji's my close friend, i–"

"didn't see anything wrong with it?" you cut her off. "cause it looks a little weird when all your clients know me and then you show up with some other girl that's not me? let me guess, you saw keeho?"

"how did you–" daniela gets cut off again by you talking over her.

"he texted me," you tell her. "asking, and i quote 'who this random chick' is with you instead of me. so it's not just me thinking i'm crazy."

"i didn't say you were crazy," daniela quickly says, shaking her head. "baby, please, this isn't that serious. you know minji."

"but other people don't," you respond. "what if it wasn't keeho?"

"i-" daniela stops herself, taking a breath. "this is the only time i've brought someone other than you."

"but why?" you stand up from the couch, making daniela take a few steps backwards. "you're the one who tells me that you don't let anyone go because you don't want them to see, but minji is just a different story or something?"

"it's one time!" daniela says, her voice raising slightly. "why does it matter?"

"why does it matter?" you repeat. "you tell me, daniela. you tell me." you cross your arms over your chest.

daniela is quiet for a minute, trying to think of the right thing to say to not upset you more. "i know what you're thinking, but this isn't a big deal. i let her come along because it was keeho. nothing else, no other reason," she tells you. "i promise."

"not a big deal, you keep saying that," your voice turns sharp. "what's not a big deal? that i'm reasonably concerned when you're out hours past when i got back and tell me you were doing some stuff, helping minji get a gift for hanni, and do a deal? because those are multiple different answers."

"oh my god," daniela mumbles, looking around before back at you. "yn, seriously, it's nothing."

"give me your phone," you demand.

"what?" she looks at you confused.

"consider this a phone check. give it to me." you hold your hand out.

"you're serious?" daniela asks. when you don't answer, just stare at her, she pulls her phone out of her pocket and hands it to you. "jesus christ," she grumbles under her breath, crossing her arms over her chest.

looking through the recent messages, your fingers hover over one specifically, and when you glance up from the phone to look at daniela, she feels her heart drop to her stomach at the expression on your face.

"so what? you have clients wanting to get you shit for valentines day? is that the excuse you're going to give?" you say seriously, tilting your head to the side.

"what?" daniela lets out. "no one has–"

"what's this about then?" you hold the phone towards her, showing a thread of messages.

"that's jaehyun!" daniela exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air. "he's my friend!"

"and you know i don't like how close he is with you!" you retort, your voice raising. "every time we go to his place it's like i don't even exist! he's obviously hitting on you!"

"he literally isn't! he's gay!" daniela scoffs, shaking her head. "plus, he literally has a boyfriend!"

"well that didn't stop you the first time, did it?" the words come out faster than you could think.

"right," daniela scoffs again, nodding her head. "right, because it's always my fault, isn't it? i'm always the one fucking up, right?"

"yeah!" you nod. "you're the one who says you can pull anyone, and then you act like i'm fucking crazy when people are all over you and i don't like it! like it's not right for me to feel upset even though i'm your girlfriend!"

"i've never called you crazy! when have i once said that?!" daniela's voice starts getting louder, nearing the edge of yelling.

"but you look at me like it!" you end up yelling first. "like-like it's a problem that i get jealous! you're allowed to have your hands all over me when i'm with my friends when you're jealous but when you have three different girls who give you thousands of dollars each month all over you it's weird when i get defensive and jealous!? that's not fair, daniela!"

"so what? i'm supposed to just sit there while girls eye-fuck you or try to get all close?!" daniela retorts. "you don't even know! you're so fuckin' naive that you think everyone just wants to be friends!"

"naive? i'm naive?" you let out a laugh, shaking your head. "right, sorry for being nice enough to make friends who don't just want to fuck me for some shit!"

"they still want to fuck you!" daniela yells. "look at sophia! you ran to her when shit got hard and look what happened! who's telling me that you won't go run off to some other 'friend' of yours only for them to fuck you while you were still mine!"

you stop once sophia's name is spoken. daniela knew better than to bring her up after the events that happened, knowing how much you regretted your stupid decision and how bad you felt about it afterwards. but in the heat of the argument, the second the words leave daniela's mouth you're standing there in silence.

"you know what," you eventually speak up. "maybe i will."

"will what?" daniela asks, seemingly not realizing what she said and how you took it.

you shake your head, letting out a scoff. you toss her phone on the couch and walk into the bedroom, not saying another word.

"yn?" daniela sighs. "yn! what are you doing?"

a few minutes later you walk back out with a bag in your hands, making daniela's eyes go wide.

"what're you doing?" she asks.

"i'm going to jungwon's for the night," you answer simply. "or, the rest of the night, i guess."

"what?" daniela looks at you confused. "why?"

you stare at her with a deadpan expression, waiting to see if she'll notice what she said. when she clearly doesn't, you shake your head again. "because he's a friend who won't fuck me while i'm still yours. those are your words," you tell her before starting to walk to the front door.

your words make daniela realize what she said, and she immediately starts following after you to the door. "yn? yn, baby, don't be like this! i didn't mean to bring her up!"

"but you did." you swiftly turn around, causing her to abruptly stop. "you did even though we talked about it and you knew how fucked up i felt afterwards. but if this is what comes out of your mouth when we argue, then i know you're still pissed about it. so, i'm leaving for the night, or maybe a few days, i don't know." you shrug. "i know i fucked up with what i did. i regret it. but you told me it was okay. when apparently it isn't if you're bringing it up. so while i'm gone, you think about what you want, daniela. because you are on thin ice, and it's cracking. so figure it the fuck out."

you leave the apartment before daniela can get a word out, the door slamming behind you echoing through the place. she stands there for a few minutes, waiting to hear you come back, but you never do.

"god damnit," she sighs, dragging her hands over her face.

the whole remainder of the night daniela kept texting you, telling you to come back, that she was sorry and didn't mean it. but, that's how she always was whenever you two fought. and you were tired of everything right now.

when you got to jungwon's, he was surprised to see you, but when you explained the situation he immediately brought you inside and talked with you about the whole thing. he was always good with comforting others and advice. plus, he could tell you were straining yourself recently.

while daniela sat inside the apartment, moping around waiting for you to come back, still texting you as the day passed and you didn't return or respond. she knew you were upset with what she said, that was obvious. and she couldn't lie and say that the event didn't gnaw at her every fiber since she found out, even if sophia got what she deserved in the end, because it did. she knew it shouldn't. that it was a moment of vulnerability for you, that you had no one else to go to. it all spirals back to her regretting what she did in the first place to start it all.

for the whole day daniela thought of what to do, how to fix this. she sat on the couch for hours thinking of what will make you not mad at her anymore. when she got an idea.

it was day three and you still weren't responding, so daniela took matters into her own hands and texting jungwon asking if you were there. he answered truthfully, saying that he wanted her to figure it out with you so he was trying to help the most he could. so she drove over to his place.

standing in front of the door, daniela shifts her weight from one foot to the other anxiously, biting her lip in hopes that this would work. the door opens and jungwon is revealed, who smiles at her.

"hey, dani," he says. "she's in the guest room."

"thanks," daniela replies, walking past him when he opens the door wider for her.

approaching the guest room, daniela knocks on the door a few times, hearing you hum on the other end. she slowly opens the door, making you turn and see it was her. your expression hardens, and dani notices, knowing she's still in deep shit.

"hey," she says awkwardly, pulling the flowers from behind her back. "i got you these." she holds them out, looking at the ground.

you can't help the way your eyes soften at the tone in her voice, quiet and hesitant compared to the confident loudness you were used to. she looks like a kicked puppy staring at the ground, and you let out a short sigh before getting off the bed, walking over to her and taking the bouquet from her.

"i'm sorry for what i said," daniela mumbles. "i didn't mean to say it i just...i still think about it sometimes and i don't know why. i know you didn't do it to hurt me on purpose but sometimes i...i worry that you're going to leave once you realize i'm not the best for you."

her words shock you as she still stares at the ground, finally speaking the thoughts that had been eating her up inside. "dani..."

"i-i know i'm not the best," she quickly adds. "i know you can find someone who will treat you better like it's nothing. but i don't– i can't lose you. i love you so much, so fucking much, and it scares me so much when we fight because i know every time it's another tick gone and that eventually you'll get tired of me and leave. i don't want you to leave. we fight, we have our ups and downs, but you always stay. you always stay and i know one day y-you won't." daniela's voice cracks at the end, tears filling her eyes the longer she talks. "i'm sorry." a few tears fall.

carefully setting the flowers on the bed, you take another step towards her and cup her face in your hands, making her look at you finally. "it's okay," you tell her softly. "you're right, i always stay. i always stay because i love you. i wouldn't if i didn't. dani, i don't think you know that you are the best relationship i've had. all of the other ones ended like shit. you prove to me time and time again that even if you fuck up, you own up to it and you don't run away. i won't ever get tired of you, i promise." you wipe away the tears falling from her eyes. "i love you, and i love the flowers. you always know what to get me."

"i try," daniela responds quietly, nodding slightly.

"i know." you nod. "and i love that about you." you lean in, pressing a soft kiss against her lips.

parting from the kiss, daniela's arms snake around your waist and pull you close to her as she puts her face in the crook of your neck. "i love you," she murmurs against your skin.

"i love you too," you reply, petting her head gently.

[moon-ttokki-x]

hiii baby!!! I love your work and this is like my first request I’ve sent to anyone at all 😭 but could you do 28 and 7 for Minho ^^ tysm!!

hihi cutie~ i've actually had both of these prompts before so i got better at writing them hehe. also amogus divider bc why tf not

keychain - bf!lee minho x reader

pairing: bf!lee know x reader

summary: you fight with minho and he comes back to make things right.

genre: non-idol! au, pretty angst, soonie doongie dori honourable mention, comfort, fluffy ending, soft minho

a/n: so i started listening to lana del rey and i wrote this to 'sad girl' also div by @si-eunnis

⛓️ prompts: 7. "I'm glad you're here." / 28. "You're looking at me like that again."

skz prompt list | skz masterlist

You toss another dirty tissue across the countertop, sniffing as you watch it come to rest at the very edge, teetering. Leaning your cheek against the cold, marbled surface, you sigh and let the sharp feeling seep through your pores like iced water.

It does little to soothe the current puffy redness of your cheeks; how long have you been sitting here, crying? The golden hanging lights that frame the kitchen have made your hair warm to the touch, their beams caressing the messy state of it, and your back feels numb and achy from the awkward position you've been slumped in since Minho stormed out of the apartment. You sigh.

You don't even remember what you were fighting about.

Each exhale feels like it's been punched out of you as you relive the events of the past hour; him coming home, both of you tired and irritable, and then fighting over the pettiest thing that you don't even remember anymore.

Then he left.

You're not sure if he's coming back; he didn't take anything but his phone, which had been in his pocket as soon as he came in, and his work bag, which is still smashed against the wall where he'd dropped it with a sigh on coming home.

You can't fight a weak smile at the habit; you've installed multiple hooks along the wall so he can hang his bag up when he gets home, but every time you did, he'd always just drop it on the floor anyway, kicking off his shoes at the door.

And you'd smile and gesture at the hooks, but he'd just ignore them, kissing your fed-up expression off your face with a gentle mouth and squeezing your shoulder with a warm, solid hand.

The way he always does.

You look at those hooks now; one of the cats' collars is hanging off them, and several other items like hair ties and rings of keys adorn the others. You came into the kitchen one day and saw Minho hanging a cat toy from the hook nearest to the door so that, when he wasn't home, the cats would be able to play. Dori sits there now, batting with fluffy white paws at the feathers and bells on the string.

Ding, ding. Ding.

You're not sure why you're thinking of such things; surely anyone in your current situation would incessantly cry their eyes out, wailing at the mistake of fighting with their partner, instead of thinking about plastic wall hooks and under-stimulated cats.

You're so distracted that you don't even notice the apartment door open again, so slowly that it takes about half a minute for Minho to actually step inside.

He's soaked.

The smell of the night rain that he brings with him is suddenly so prominent inside the still air of the apartment that it's what makes you look up.

"Minho," you whisper, eyes red and puffy. You scrub a hand across your face, the skin stinging at the harsh treatment. You hadn't even heard the rain outside.

He doesn't look at you, just takes off his shoes, very deliberately. There's a little puddle of rainwater around his feet and you fight back an exhale as his socked feet meet the wet tiles. Dori immediately goes to nuzzle against his legs and then hisses at the unpleasant wetness of his owner's legs.

But Minho doesn't seem to notice, simply taking off layers until he's stood in his slacks and white work shirt, which is the only dry item of clothing he has on. He drops the rest of his clothes in a pile.

His eyes finally lift themselves to meet yours; the warmth in them is gone, replaced by something unreadable. A dull, heavy feeling settles in your gut, a sense of finality washing over your being. You know this is the moment that he'll say he wants to leave, that he just can't find it in himself to love you. He'll go to your shared room and start packing a suitcase, and take the cats with him, all while you wail and tug at his arms for him not to leave, please, Minho, don't leave-

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

Your gaze flits to his. Your voice is croaky, cracked, saturated with sadness. "What?"

He steps forward, ignoring the insistent mewing of Soonie and Doongie, who have just come into the room. "I'm sorry. I should have just left to clear my head and then came back, but I've been gone half the night."

You blink and look through tired eyes to the clock on the wall. It takes you a couple seconds to process the time. It's 1 am. Minho came home at 9 pm. You don't even know how many hours that is.

"How long were you walking in the rain?" You say, still whispering lest you scare him off again.

He shrugs. His mouth opens, like he wants to say something, but he's hesitant, like he's not sure how it will be received.

He speaks anyway. "I stalled for a while. I didn't know if you'd be here when I came back..." His fingers twist in the slightly damp material of his white shirt, fidgeting.

Your indignance suddenly takes over your upset state and you sit up straighter. "I would have waited all night for you, Minho. I wasn't going to leave..."

"I know," he says solemnly, and then quietly, "I'm glad you're here."

You nod and slowly slide off the chair you've been slumped in, disturbing a few of the tissues scattered across the countertop. "I'm sorry too, Min. I shouldn't have kept the argument going."

He shakes his head. "We were both tired. It happens."

You both stand in silence for a minute, neither one of you sure how to continue the conversation. It's almost awkward until Minho steps forward, taking out something from his pocket. He shyly holds it out.

You take a small step forward and take the small item from him. Unfolding your fingers from around it, you blink through unshed tears to see a small keychain resting in the palm of your hand. It's a little cat with its mouth open, its fur pattern like Soonie's, but grey instead of ginger. There's another attachment of a pink peach, and the clip keyring attachment is shaped like a heart.

You look up at Minho. His face is red. You remember suddenly that he's quite shy when it comes to giving things to people, and you can't fight the urge to throw yourself into his arms.

This little keychain is Minho's apology.

His skin is cold, damp from the rain, and the collar of his shirt is wet from the rain, but you hold him close anyway. You wrap your arms around his middle, squeezing your eyes shut. He's almost fetched up against the wall from how hard you threw yourself at him, but his arms find their familiar place around your shoulders.

You pull back slightly, gazing up at him. As if he wasn't soaked enough, your tears have left two patches on his chest, but he doesn't seem to mind.

"You're looking at me like that again." Minho says quietly.

You hum, a tear spilling down your cheek. "Looking at you like what?"

You see his throat bob, swallow hard. You can feel the constant thrum of his heart through the damp fabric of his shirt.

Minho gulps. "You always look at me like than when- when-"

"When I say I love you?" You finish for him.

Minho nods inaudibly, the movement of his head so small you almost don't see it at all. You smile, tilting your head at him, the tears beginning to slow.

You both stand there for who knows how long, clinging to each other, trapping between your bodies the smell of rain and fade cologne. Finally, Minho talks.

"I love you too."

a/n: this was way too long

[writingsfromhome]

Unspoken Signals

A/N: reaaaallly tried to get this out for v-day. It’s been a while, I’m a bit rusty, but this is a quick fic w Harry and you as coworkers and a casual something else. Hope you enjoy 🫶🏼

—————————————————————-

“Well this is different,” I comment.

Before me sits a dozen children and they’re all very quiet. It’s music to my ears after the last hour.

“I didn’t know kids could even do yoga.”

“You didn’t know kids could stretch?” I raise a brow.

“The meditating part,” Harry clarifies. “I didn’t know they could quiet their minds and their demon mouths.”

I laugh softly and turn back to the kids. A couple are starting to get restless, peeking one eye open or scratching their noses—picking them more like. But it’s nice for the few minutes.

Both Harry and I worked at an art museum that had recently lost some of its funding and had decided to open up revenue streams by introducing “kids fun weekends”. So despite having zero training in early education, staff at the museum found ourselves having to look after children and host workshops from time to time.

So far we’d been volun-told to help with a crafts day, a movie night, wellness day, and an upcoming museum sleepover.

And I was so not being paid enough to deal with hyperactive children.

“Why do kids even need a wellness workshop?” Harry continues to whisper back to me. “They’ve got stressful jobs or something? Bloody put me on one and let me go home.”

“Anyone can experience stress Har,” I roll my eyes. Harry was one of those people who didn’t care about being politically correct when he spoke. Which led to a lot of bickering between us that most of our coworkers had gotten used to.

“The stress of any of these kids does not bloody compare to the stress of an adult.”

“Don’t be such an ageist,” I reply.

“Ageist? What the fuck,” he swears. “Do you just put a word in front of -ist and create a new prejudice?”

I gasp and hold his shoulder, “prejudice? Where did you learn such a large word?”

“Now you’re just being a word-ist,” Harry says smugly.

I snort despite myself, “And you’ve always been a prick.”

“Piss off,” Harry whispers. “This is unfair.”

We stand in silence, forced to do our job of keeping watch over the kids. But as they grow more agitated and so does Harry, I realize I really didn’t want to be here either.

“Well have you seen the new fake-Monet collection?” I ask.

It wasn’t actually fake-Monet. It was a local artist we were hosting in our community gallery that showcased…local artists. The first piece we ever saw hung up looked like a Monet so we took to calling him that.

“No. Not after that first forgery.”

“Wanna ditch this and check it out?”

“Fuck yes.” Harry’s eyes finally draw some life to them.

We leave our two other coworkers to deal with freshly-meditated children and sneak away.

The art museum wasn’t a large building; the ground floor was taken up by the open lobby, offices, the gift shop, and some of the more permanent exhibits. The second floor had revolving galleries and the community gallery sat on the third floor.

“D’you think anyone’s actually going to buy the guy’s fakes?” Harry asks.

“Probably,” I jam the button for the lift. “I saw a couple more pieces and they were beautiful.”

“You find any piece of art beautiful.”

“Well they are! It’s easy to find beauty in a lot of things if you’re not a prick.”

The lift arrives and the doors open; the reflection inside show a tall curly-haired annoyed bloke. Walking in with him is a shorter girl, rolling her eyes.

“I’m not a prick.” He looks down at me. “I just have standards.”

Suddenly in the enclosed space of the lift we’re gravitating towards each other like we tended to do. I smile up at him sweetly and he tsks and pushes me away by my chin; a conversation taking place with just our eyes.

The thing with Harry and me—because it was just a thing we didn’t label, was simple: we liked being around each other (despite being able to get on each other’s nerves).

We kinda just orbited each other and we were comfortable with it; some days he would follow me home and we’d hang out, get dinner, sleep together, and other nights I’d show up at his and we’d fold right into one another.

It was fun, and it felt cool not to label it. It felt very adult, like Harry and I were mature enough to appreciate the other in every aspect without being possessive enough to need to label it. Like somehow we were proving just how secure we were by doing it like this.

“You just like being judgemental,” I say and as the doors open onto the third floor I turn to walk out. “Because you’re an idiot.”

Outside stand at older couple who’ve definitely heard the last bit. I apologize and pray they don’t complain to anyone about the staff.

“Very unprofessional,” Harry goads as he laughs. “Do you harass all the elderly at the museum.”

“Shut up!” I shove him against the wall and he stumbles down.

“Oi!” He calls out as I walk away. “Oi! Help me up!”

“Help yourself!” I finally turn. He’s sprawled on the ground like this was his bedroom—because I’d seen the inside of his bedroom I would know. But he stays for so long I hurry back, not wanting anyone to walk past and get us in trouble for laying in the middle of the hall.

“I knew you’d come,” he smiles sweetly, his large hand in the air ready for me to grip.

“C’mon—“

I see it coming too late and he’s already trapped me in. He pulls me forward and I stumble into him, nearly catching myself on the wall. Nearly. I tumble into him instead.

“Grow up!” I scramble off of him as quick as I could. Because the one unspoken rule in this thing between us was staying nothing but platonic coworkers at work.

And that was the other thing about us—this unlabelled situation we were in. That as casual as we appeared there was a lot of orchestrating going on behind the scenes in order to be this nonchalant.

For example, only touching outside of work, not asking about dates the other went out on the weekend before, like saying you’re funny and where’ve you been when it’s been a while so as not to say I really like you and I want to be around you more and when you’re not around I miss you more than an unlabelled half should. Like getting drunk when I spot him at a club with another girl so I can continue to convince myself I really didn’t care all that much.

It was just Harry. At most we were just friends.

“This is me grown up,” Harry catches up to me. He can sense I’m annoyed and maybe he’s crossed a line so he lingers slightly behind.

I ignore him as I push the glass door into the gallery. This was one of my favourite spaces because of the large windows and views of the garden below planted by friends of the museum.

But mostly I loved it because it was a revolving door of local artists and it reminded me that everyone had a story to tell. And every story was beautiful.

“Don’t cry this time,” Harry whispers to me as he walks down the gallery to the far end.

“It was one time,” I mumble. That I actually cried. Usually I just teared up.

I couldn’t help it though, there was so much meaning and time put into these pieces. So much love and grief and every emotions on the spectrum. And I felt it all.

I decide I’d stop calling the artist fake-Monet because with a few more paintings I began to recognize his own signature style. He paints about personal community and finding it in public spaces—pockets around London.

“Hey look at this one,” Harry says when I’m a few pieces away. I walk over.

It’s unmistakably Hampstead Heath, the park a half hour walk from here and 15 from Harry’s place. It’s where we spent a lazy summer day a month or so ago. We were both free on the Saturday, our calendars opening up. I met Harry at his and we’d trekked through the hazy city to feel the cool breeze of the sturdy trees and the splash of the water. Despite the stickiness, we’d tucked into each other and pretended the shade was enough to keep us cool—enough to be so close. We read our book, took a summer nap, ate our picnic, and chatted about the rest of our lives. Passerbys would see two friends, or maybe two something-mores.

It’s only when the sun slinked down towards the horizon did we pack up. We walked back to his flat, took a shower together. We had dinner with his friends. It had been such a beautiful day I had ached with it because I knew how temporary it was.

But how perfect it had been. It had felt bigger than us.

Harry pointing it out toes that line again; he remembered it too, as something to reference. As something to compare to the beautiful richness of the tapestry before us—lavenders and lilacs, pinks and blues, sage, and dusty hues.

“Beautiful,” I murmur. We’re standing shoulder to shoulder now, I can’t tell who’s leaning on who.

“It…actually is.” Harry says in a hushed voice back. “I’m sorry fake-Monet that I doubted you.”

I look up at him in surprise, Harry rarely changed his mind. “Actually?”

“Yeah.” He looks down at me. “I think I get it.”

The expression in his eyes as he says this, as they fill with meaning, I have to look away. But the painting doesn’t help. It’s too full of my own meaning. Our meaning.

But there was no our.

“Wow.” I straighten up and move closer. “Look at that blending. And the details those are actually people.”

“They’ve all got their own shadow too.” Harry moves closer towards me again. He points it out.

“I’m gonna go look for shadows in the others.” I chirp just so I can get away. So I can keep denying.

A few hours later, the day is giving to nightfall. I badge out with Harry and we walk down the steps towards the iron gates.

“See you tomorrow?” I ask.

“I’m not in tomorrow.” He reminds me.

“Oh yeah your parents are in town?”

“Yep,” he fidgets with his phone and we stand in silence for a beat.

“Well I should-“ I say just as he asks, “Would you want to-“

We pause, awkward laugh. We were never awkward.

“You first,” I urge, wanting to know what he was going to ask.

“No it’s nothing. I should go. Got to clean my flat before my parents see how I live.”

“Don’t forget to hide the rolling papers from your bedside,” I tease. “And the magazines under the bed.”

“Oi I haven’t got magazines under the bed,” he smiles. His dimples make a handsome appearance. “They’re loud and proud on the coffee table now.”

“Except you haven’t got a coffee table.”

“If you know so much about my flat how about you come home with me and help me clean it? You can stay over.”

Come home with me. Casual, so casual.

But I know how calculated it had to be. I’d been there. Somehow I knew this is what he’d been trying to ask in the first place.

“What time are your parents getting in?” I ask.

“They’re early birds. Probably after 8.”

“8? Holy hell.” I swear.

“They want to do breakfast and then take me to visit my grandparents.”

“Right. Yeah well, imagine I’m still not out by the time they show up. That’d be so awkward. And there’s no way in hell I’m getting up before 8.”

His cheeks take on a slight blush. “They’ve…it wouldn’t be the first time they came over to a girl in my bed YN. I’m not 16.”

“I know. But…still awkward.”

“So?”

“I…don’t want them to get the wrong idea. We’ll see each other the day after. You’re working then right?”

My heart squeezes a bit at his crushed look before it’s swapped for happy, for easygoing. “Yep. Can’t get rid of me that quick.”

We part ways, I go mine with a heavy heart.

***

“So,” I check in with Harry at lunch the day he’s back. It had been a hectic day yesterday with a new group of kids and a new workshop to facilitate. Plus someone was quitting after being yelled at and Harry had missed it all so I wanted to update him. “How was your day off.”

“Shite,” he says. We walk a few streets over to a Pret. “Mum and dad wouldn’t stop whinging about my future and about settling down like I’m a fucking balding man in my 50s losing all prospects. I’m only 25!”

“Yeah total bummer having a day off for that,” I comment even though I have a hard time getting my next breath in. I can’t imagine my own parents caring that much about my life to spend a whole day with me talking about it. And what if I had stayed the night and accidentally bumped into them—would they have approved?

Should I even care?

“Then my nan basically told them to piss off but they started filling her head with it and then she’s asking me about any girls I’ve taken on dates lately. Started giving me relationship advice!”

“What was that?” I tease. “Take her on a walk and buy her some flowers? Go star gazing? Movie for 2 quid?”

Harry glances at me and his seriousness throws me off balance a little.

“What?”

He opens his mouth, then shrugs and closes it. “Nothing.”

“Sorry did I offend you?” I try to think of why he might be reacting this way.

“No, she actually did say some pretty old-fashioned shite. But I can take it from her. It’s my parents that drive me nuts.”

“Well I wish you were at work. Want to hear what happened?”

So I change the subject and we talk about what he missed. He’s more subdued today and I don’t read into it. He wasn’t mine to read into, I have to remind myself.

We talk about the gallery sleepover in two weeks, whether we were actually going to come in our PJs. When we get back to work we’re on different floors and I try not to miss him again.

***

“I actually brought mine—the appropriate pair.” My coworker jokes. We’re in the staff kitchen making an afternoon tea. Tonight was the gallery sleepover and I was not looking forward to it. But because I was working it I had the day off tomorrow and at least that was something to look forward to.

“I just brought a ratty tee. I don’t think I’m sleeping anyway.” I say.

“I hate that we got picked for this,” she continues. “I actually don’t even like kids. Why do you think I have none?”

“Well tonight will just be birth-control.”

“Trust me I don’t need it.” She cackles and walks away. My phone buzzes with a text.

Harry: Might be late tonight. cover for me if anyone asks?

Y: ur not even working the day how are u gonna be late?

Harry: got a thing. Just cover pls?

Y: obv

I wonder what was going on with him.

We hadn’t had a lot of opportunities to hang out the last week and work had been too busy to properly catch up. Plus our manager had been putting us on conflicting projects so I really had been missing Harry.

Even though Harry and I were friends there was something about distance and fondness that was proving true lately. And I hated it. So I’d gone on a string of dates this week. Hence my busyness.

I’d gone out on a date a week ago and even though I ended up going back to his place all I wanted to do was text Harry. Ask him if he was up, what he was doing. I’d forced myself to shut my phone so I wouldn’t be tempted.

After we close the doors to the public that evening we begin setting up for the kids’ sleepover. It’s so hectic nobody notices Harry’s late but he slides right in helping me string the lights in our biggest gallery. We work on the projectors next, I yap to him for 10 minutes straight and he barely replies. He’d been quiet since he got here.

And for the next few hours Harry and I entertain and help children have fun, we put on a fancy puppet show loosely based on famous artists—art projections included.

We sneak away to the kitchen after we take our bow for a tea break.

“Wouldn’t happen to have a flask on ya?” Harry sighs as he strains his tea bag.

“God I wish,” I stare into the dark abyss of my earl gray. That performance had really taken it out of me. “Who d’you think’s most likely to have something stashed away?”

“Well,” Harry yawns like he hadn’t slept all week and points to an upper cabinet. “Behind the cleaning stuff.”

“What?!” I gasp. “Seriously?”

“Well last time I saw it was last Christmas. Probably got some alcoholics here. I dunno if the stash is still there.”

“Well this is naughty,” I find a couple travel-sized liquor bottles like the kind you get on planes. I take one so that somebody else can have the delight of the other.

Harry sticks his mug out and I empty half the bottle, doing the same to mine.

“Make sure it’s covered,” he advises when I throw it in the bin. I shake it around until I can’t see it.

“Much better,” I cheers my mug to his. He catches my eye and it feels like we’re co-conspirators again. I pass a smile that’s only half-returned. “So what’s the deal with you?”

“Hm?” He doesn’t look up from his drink.

“I’ve barely seen you all week. And you’re late tonight. And you look haggard as hell.”

He shrugs, “I’ve been helping one of my mates out with moving out of his girlfriend’s. They broke up. He’s a mess so…”

“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting that. “That’s kind of you.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Do I?” I widen my eyes.

“Piss off.”

He cracks with a smile—a full Harry smile and I feel my heart beaming just to soak it in.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?” I ask tentatively. I knew he had the day off too.

“Uhm,” cagey Harry returns. “Maybe. I’m not too sure right now.”

“Ah okay.”

We sip in silence that threatens to smother us. I get up as quickly as I can without wasting my precious drink.

“I’m gonna head back out.”

“Alright.”

I head back to the star-lit room where sleeping bags are laid out like mismatched brick throughout the floor. Some kids are cozied within, others sit on top. They’re all engrossed in the “bedtime story” being told by a local author.

It’s sweet, I think. This would become a core memory for a lot of these kids, drinking in the whole night through all their senses. I wish I had more memories like this. Maybe then I wouldn’t be so fragile all the time.

Adults staying overnight got their own gallery blankets and I drag one over to the far end, enough for any kid who needed assistance could find me but far away that I could be on my phone and not distract them.

Some time later another body joins me with his own blanket.

“Sorry,” Harry says as he sits.

“For what?” I play pretend. Just like these kids were doing tonight. What could you possibly be saying sorry for? What could I possibly feel entitled to you for? We’re just friends.

“For being weird earlier. I…well I have to tell you something and I’m being weird instead.”

My heart begins to thump in my chest.

“Tell me what?”

“So I’ve um…I’ve got a-“ Harry clears his throat. I glance up at him and he’s looking out towards the ceiling. “I have a girlfriend. I know we…we’re not…”

“Jeez Har,” even though ever atom inside of me is keeling over with something I can’t exactly examine yet, I play the joker. The friend. “If this is you telling me you’re getting serious with someone that’s all you have to say.”

“Really?” He turns to me and on the shiny hardwood floor so does half his body. I ignore how his knees feel pressing into mine. “You’re…okay?”

His voice is anything but casual.

“Yeah! It’s not like we’re a thing.”

Even still, I can’t say it. I die a little more.

“Yeah well I wasn’t expecting it. She’s the daughter of someone my dad knows? Pretty sure they orchestrated it but we went on a couple dates and then she asked…well she wanted to be exclusive I…”

“Well that’s good. For you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep.”

“Thank god,” the air whooshes out of his lungs.

“I feel like I should be offended. You thought I was going to be mad or something?”

“No not mad…” he trails off. I look at his reaction and find him looking at me already. Even though it’s dark I can still see his eyes and they feel like they’re reading everything on my face. In a hushed tone he repeats himself, “not mad.”

I shrug, biting my lip hard to feel something other than the emotions threatening to overwhelm me. Emotions I never thought would surface this strongly.

“I’m good. Actually I’m not good. I think that bottle we found was rubbish I’ve got to go toilet—“ I use his knee to pull myself up. “Save my spot.”

I walk away without sparing a glance back because my act is crumbling. I’m crumbling. And I don’t understand it.

If you asked me two weeks ago I would have gone on how fun it was to be with Harry but how the idea of being with him seriously would be weird. Would throw off our balance. But now I want to puke my guts in the toilet at the idea of having to let him go. Because he’s the one who moved on.

And as hard as I try tears still escape my lashline and make trails down my cheeks as I study myself in the brightly lit mirror. How could I be mad when we were just casual? How could I hate him if all he did was look for something serious. Someone serious.

Suddenly what had felt fun and mature feels childish and disposable.

I was disposable fun.

“Get it the fuck together,” I tell myself. “You’ve got nothing to cry over. You could get yourself a boyfriend too. He’s not your soulmate or something jeez.”

I blow my nose and give myself another pep talk before exiting the toilets back to where Harry waits for me.

“You alright?” He asks. A loaded question.

“Yeah. Regret doing this for the whole night though.”

“You could sleep. I’ll take first shift.”

“I’ll get in trouble.”

“Who gives a shit,” Harry tugs me so that I fall against his shoulder and it’s the worst thing in the world.

I don’t curl my arm through his like I might’ve before. Or cozy into his chest. I stay there like a stiff robot until sleep takes me. Even then it’s not long enough.

—1 month later—

I’m heading home after an uneventful day, ready to sink into bed and turn my brain off. These days my brain talked too much and I really wish there was an on/off switch for it.

“Um hiya?” A soft voice says as I exit the turnstile in the lobby. I turn towards the voice and it belongs to a sweet looking girl about my age with harsh features softened by a layered bob. On me it would look ridiculous but she looks like she was born to rock the style she was in.

“Hi,” the rule of thumb was even though you were clocked out if you exited from the lobby in work clothes and somebody stopped you, you had to help them. I’d forgotten to tuck my badge away today damnit.

“I’m waiting for someone? He hasn’t been answering his texts I was just wondering if-“

“You could ask reception?” I point to the desk behind her. “They can page who you need.”

“They weren’t really helpful,” she shrugs. “I’m assuming you work with him? Harry?”

It’s the last name I’m expecting from her lips. I nearly stumble back trying to take her in again with the new knowledge of who she might be.

“H-Harry?”

I’d heard her the first time. I’m just trying to grasp at a second to collect myself.

This must be his girlfriend. The one who wanted to be exclusive. And I hated that I’d liked her in our two minute interaction.

He hadn’t spoken much about her since he told me a month ago but since half of our relationship before her was being intimate, we barely talked and when we did it was mostly just work and the relationship felt really fragile and rough.

I could see what Harry saw in her—she was attractive. And not pushy; she let Joey at reception push her around which was hard to do. And she was meeting Harry here, at work. It must be getting serious.

All these thoughts race through my mind in a millisecond.

“Oh! Harry yeah,” I nod when she confirms. “Of course I know him. I think he was in a meeting might be why…I can go back in and check if you-“

“Oh no! Sorry I’m not trying to be a bother. You’re probably going home I just wanted to make sure he was still in?”

“Yeah! Yeah he’s in. I’ll tell Joey—reception, to page him if he’s out. He’s nicer than he seems.”

“That’d be perf,” she beams. I die a little more, unsure why I was helping her this much. Unsure why it bothered me this much.

Ever since Harry had ended the thing we didn’t have, my life had felt haunted. The ghosts of every emotion I killed in the moments we’d been together began to surface and they were torture. Biggest of all was regret and shame. Regret over what could have been if I’d just admitted how deeply I felt months ago. Shame because I wasn’t supposed to feel this way for Harry. Because he obviously didn’t feel the same way, he never would, and it would be embarrassing to ever admit it.

Our actual relationship had gone like this after that night—avoidance -> awkward small talk -> light bantering -> finally, being able to talk semi-normally again.

We stopped hanging out outside of work however, so every day I got to see him was a day I was excited to go into work. My friends told me I had to do something about it—confess and see what he says, or move on.

And I’d tried to move on. But every guy I tried to date didn’t hold a candle to the flame that warmed my heart; to the idiot I had the misfortune of falling for after we ended things.

Or maybe I was just the idiot.

And here I was self-sabotaging by helping his girlfriend. There was definitely something wrong with me.

“Elsie!”

Both our heads turn to the voice.

“There he is,” I say but she’s already squeezing my arm and walking towards him. Harry doesn’t realize I’m standing there and I watch him smile at her in a way that sends a spike to my heart. Then he notices me.

“Oh YN,” his eyelids flutter a few times too many. “Uh-“

“YN god sorry I didn’t even get your name,” Elsie turns back to me. “YN was helping me.”

“Yeah? Thanks,” Harry looks visibly relieved and flashes me a grin. I raise my brows and smile back.

Home. I had to get home.

“Well I figured Har already had a hard time finding a girlfriend, I didn’t want him to lose her so quickly. This isn’t even a very big place.”

Harry’s expression is unreadable but Elsie laughs.

“Very funny,” Harry responds.

“I know.” I gear myself up to say bye. “Well I’ll see you tomorrow, let you get to wherever you’re going. It was nice-“

“Well we’re just hanging out with some friends,” Elsie says.

“YN knows a few of them,” Harry says. I watch his eyes bug a little as he realizes he’s stepped onto a minefield and watch him back away smoothly. “Some of the younger crew go out for drinks sometimes.”

“Ah,” Elsie says as Harry wraps his arm around her shoulder from behind. He was laying it on thick but I don’t think Elsie noticed his hiccup. “Well why doesn’t she come!? YN you should join us! One more friend!”

“Oh I don’t think she wants to-“

“I was honestly just gonna go ho-“

I stop talking the same time Harry does.

“No you should!” Elsie says. “Don’t listen to Harry.”

I catch his eye and they’re saying please don’t.

Don’t tell me what to do, mine say.

Don’t be stubborn.

Challenge accepted.

“Ok! Maybe one drink.” I say as Harry huffs. It felt dangerous, having a non-verbal conversation in front of his girlfriend.

I was an idiot, I confirm. An idiot making bad decisions.

“Yay! Let’s go.” Elsie takes Harry’s hand and drags him to the front door. I nearly laugh at his face as he’s dragged past me—he was mad.

And it comes out a couple hours later. By then I’d had more than a single drink, have befriended most of the people I don’t know at the table and have caught up with those I do know. Harry had been mostly attached by the hip to Elsie and I tried not to stare daggers at it.

They’re an interesting couple, you can tell Harry is distracted most of the night and she tries to accommodate by being around and talking to him. He leaves a hand on her at all times but she doesn’t wrap herself around him the way I used to. Maybe she wasn’t touchy.

Maybe I was being obsessive.

So I distract myself with everyone, with drink, with a particularly cute boy who introduced himself as Elsie’s uni friend. Who happened to be brother’s with Harry’s old flatmate. Small worlds.

“YN,” Harry tugs my sleeve as Grant and I talk—if you can call heavy flirting just talking.

“What?!” I snap after the tugging gets aggressive.

“I need to talk,” He points to himself and then me, “to you.”

I could see he was well past tipsy. It wasn’t often Harry drank to this point so I follow him to find out what was going on.

I follow him to a patio table that had just been vacated, empty glasses littering the surface. An untouched shot sits in the middle. The tableau tells a story—art was everywhere.

“What?” I ask.

“What’re you doing?”

“What am I?” I laugh. “What are you doing? I think you’ve had a few drinks too many mate.”

“You’ve got drinks,” he replies.

“Yeah…” I look back at the half finished drink I left at the bar. “I did have more than I thought. I feel like I drink a lot more when there’s a lot of people around? Otherwise I’m just nursing my drink-“

“Why did you decide to come out tonight? When you’ve met my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend.

“When I’ve…what?! Your girlfriend invited me no thanks to you.”

“Yeah but you never come out anymore. And suddenly you want to come out when Elsie asks?”

“What d’you mean I never come out anymore?”

Harry sighs. “You stopped hanging out.”

“Yeah because you got a girlfriend? You stopped inviting me out!”

“No what? No! You’re always…it’s an open invitation I don’t need to specifically invite you out I-“

“So why did you invite me specifically before?” I call him out, feeling more sober than I was a few minutes ago. “You stopped inviting me. We stopped hanging out. And so I stopped inviting you when I went out cuz I thought you had a girl and I didn’t want to make it complicated I-“

My voice catches on an unfiltered emotion and I want to die. I feel heat creep up my cheeks as I try to swallow it down and hope Harry doesn’t notice. Fuck!

“Anyway your girlfriend invited me so I came! It’s not a big deal.”

“I didn’t…” Harry scratches his nose and looks uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean to stop. I…it was complicated and I-“

“It’s fine. Whatever Har.”

“It’s not,” his brows come together. “Obviously s’not. I’m sorry? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel…”

I almost laugh at what he’s said and how it sounds: I didn’t mean to make you feel. Well, neither did I.

“Yeah whatever. I’m not mad about it.”

“Sorry.” He says instead.

“Thanks,” I clear my throat for good measure, not wanting to be too emotional. I want to tell him I missed him but I don’t think it would be appropriate.

“I thought-“ he breaks off with a laugh. “Nevermind.”

“What?” I push him lightly. “You know I hate when people don’t finish their thought. It’s going to drive me crazy—what?”

“No this one you won’t like. Nevermind.”

“Tell meee,” I poke his shoulder until he slaps my hand away.

“Stop that! I hate when you do that!”

“I know.” I say smugly. “So?”

“It’s stupid. I thought you came here to annoy me or something. And then you’re practically sitting in Grant’s lap…”

He’s right. I wouldn’t like it.

“Hold on,” I bring my hand down on the table. “You thought I was flirting with Grant to annoy you? Why would I-what!?”

“Like I said,” he doesn’t make eye contact. “It was stupid. Nevermind!”

“No it’s not nevermind. You don’t drive what decisions I make in my love life.” Lie. “Got that?”

“Jeez you can’t get angry after forcing me to say!”

“I can!”

“Can you quit bitching I don’t have time for this.”

“I’ll be as big of a bitch as I want to be.” I cross my arms.

“Unfortunately, I know.”

“That’s a completely stupid thought to have-“

“Surely not all your thoughts are winners. That’s why you don’t say all of them.” Harry says, then laughs. “Actually you do. And I always have the displeasure of hearing all of them.”

My jaw drops. “It’s like you’re purposely saying the stupidest shit right now. Like you want to be a prick.”

“C’mon you little shite,” Harry tugs my arm until they uncross. “I’m joking, remember jokes?”

I want to say something snippy, tell him off, but as my arms fall away his hand slides down until the tips of our fingers brush. It makes me feel touch-starved, like I’d been isolated in the woods for the last two months growing crazy for human touch.

Harry senses the shift and his smile dies down, his throat bobbing up and down.

How was it that Harry, out of every man I’ve ever met and continue to meet, has this effect on me? How can one touch quiet my mind so completely while pushing my heart into overdrive.

Why, I want to ask the universe. Why was it this man in front of me that made me feel so intensely?

“YN,” he says.

I should pull away. I should because his fingers creep further now pressing into my palm. I want them to slide higher until they’re tangled in my hair, pulling me closer. I wanted him closer.

“I missed you,” it comes stumbling out. And the shock of it pulls me out of whatever trance I just found myself in.

I pull my hand away and Harry straightens up, his gaze clearing too.

“Sorry.” My heart is in my throat now. “Sorry. I didn’t—that was inappropriate. I’m gonna go back now…”

“Wait,” he calls out as I head back to Grant knowing my heart wasn’t in it anymore. That I was going home.

“Hm?” I try to blink away the shame as I turn back towards him.

“D-do you…regret anything?”

I raise a brow and he flushes. I was making this torture for both of us but I wanted him to ask.

Stupidly, I wanted him to know.

“Between us. I know we never…we’re just friends. But did you ever regret…us?”

I shake my head. “No. No. Never. It was some of the best times.”

It’s like I’ve said the wrong thing. His face falls and I decide I had to go. Had to. I was afraid what else might be spilled out between us.

I don’t even remember what I tell Grant, just that I grab any of my belongings that I can spot, ask him to throw his number into my phone, and hightail it out. And I nearly make it to the tube when a warm hand grips my arm.

“Get off—oh!” I nearly whack Harry with my purse but he ducks anyway. “What the fuck Har!?”

“Sorry. Sorry sorry!” He lets me go and I miss his warmth. “I didn’t realize!”

“Yeah! You can’t just grab a woman at night like that!”

“Obviously! I wasn’t thinking! I was just trying to get to you-“

“Why?”

“Bloody hell you know why YN!”

I stare at him. His face doesn’t hide a single thought, a single emotion. It’s vulnerable, and terrifying.

“Don’t take the piss.” He grabs my arms and gives me a shake. “You know. You know.”

“I-don’t do this. Har, you have a girlfriend. I don’t want to be that girl ok?”

“Why?”

“Why? Because that’s awful and-“

“No! Why didn’t you say anything when we were together? Any time we were together? When I told you I had a girlfriend? Why were you always so…cool?”

“Me? Cool?” I laugh. “There’s nothing cool about me Har.”

“Well you’re hard to fucking read then! I dunno! I was always leaving hints and signals that I actually liked you. And you always ignored them!”

“Hints? Signals?” I gape. “When the—what the hell do you call hints?!”

“I…I wanted you to meet my fucking parents for god’s sake. Did you really never-“

“If I’m hard to read so are you mate,” I lean against the closest thing—a mailbox. My legs are jelly. “Was that when you vaguely suggested I wake up in your bed while your parents were down?!”

“Fine well I bought you chocolates that one time, I’ve even got some of your tees in my room! I-I tried to plan romantic dates for us—Hampstead! I tried to tell you-“

“What?” I’m not asking him anything. I’m just questioning everything; everything I avoided and played off had meaning. Of course it did. Everything had meaning, but I’d just thrown our dictionary out the window so it would mean nothing. Because I was afraid.

“Really?!” Harry sighs. He crouches down and runs his hands through his hair. “Am I that bad? I thought I was making it so clear but you always brushed it off. I felt like an idiot for falling for you when it was just s’pose to be casual. I thought I was being a bloody simp.”

I inch down to where he crouches.

“You fell for me?” I whisper.

When he looks at me it’s with eyes that look like broken seaglass. With a mouth curved down so low that I want to kiss into a smile. Into a laugh.

He cups my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. I give in to the sigh and his lips lift ever so slightly.

“How could I not?”

“I thought I drove you crazy?” I grasp his hand. “I thought I was just a fun distraction I-“

“I never said the second part.” He interrupts.

“You sure?”

“You were reading the wrong hints.”

I laugh and so does he. It almost turns into tears.

He stands and extends a hand that I take, his warm palm covering mine.

“Now’s when you return the confession,” he says without letting go. “So?”

“What? I’m not hiding any confessions!”

“Liar,” he tugs me close. “Your heart’s racing.”

“That’s from getting up so quickly.”

“You’re full of shite.”

We’re smiling so hard I’m sure we look like crazy people on the street.

But he had a girlfriend. Oh god. A sweet girl I’d just met today.

His expression grows confused as mine must turn to worry. I untangle myself.

“Harry…”

“I know.” He finally clues in.

“We can’t-“

“I know.”

We stare at each other for a heartbeat.

“I’m gonna go. Or else…”

“Just like that?” He asks.

“How else is it supposed to be?” I demand. “We can’t do this Har. And please…if you like her…respect her at all—don’t break up with her just to be with me. I wouldn’t be able to stomach it.”

“Then I’m just lying to her.”

“I…” I shrug. “I dunno. I just don’t want to be the reason for her heartbreak okay?”

“You’re being a sensitive snowflake. Breaking up with her is the right thi-“

“You can’t call people snowflakes-

“I can if that’s what they’re being-“

“I’m going home.” I tell him. It’s the last thing I want to do.

He opens his mouth with whatever quick retort he always had. But he must think twice about it. His face draws into a frown.

“Sort yourself out.” I instruct him. “Just sort it out. And then one day soon we can see…y’know.”

I half turn away, but can’t bear to leave without touching him one last time. Who knows when the next time will be. I flit to him so I can press my lips against the warmth of his cheek, so intoxicating. Like an addict only sniffing the alcohol in their cup. And when I feel his body loosening, about to hold my own, I flit away and rush into the tube without a glance back.

I don’t register anything on the ride home. I’m too shocked to even cry about it.

I wash the day away, the scent of him and the look on his face when he realizes we each had been trying to hold out own glaring neon signs to each other.

It’s late when there’s a knock on my door. I figure it’s my roommate forgetting her keys, and since I’d been laying on my bed in my towel after my shower too numb to sort myself out I end up opening the door basically naked.

It’s Harry.

His eyes roam over my terryclothed figure with a smile.

“What—what are you doing here!?” I grab the edge of my towel to keep it in place.

“Were you expecting someone else?” He asks.

“No-stop!” I push my hand into his chest as he crosses through the doorway. “Why are you here?”

His eyebrows draw together, hurt. “I…I didn’t think I was that drunk—we did just admit our feelings to each other a few hours ago right?”

“Yes but!” I put my hand down because his heart is beating fast under my hand and I don’t want to feel it a second longer. “You were also supposed to sort yourself out and-“

“Can you just let me in?”

I stare at him.

He stares back.

“Fine!” I give up and move aside. He closes the door behind him. That’s when I notice his hands. “What’s that?”

“For you.” He holds a bouquet up. “I know they’re shitty. I couldn’t find much at this time of night-“

“No hold on, I don’t understand.”

“We’ve wasted enough time throwing out shitty hints that apparently neither of us could read. We should never be detectives.”

I stay still, waiting for an explanation. Any bloody explanation as to why he’s here and not with his girlfriend!

“I went back to Elise. She knew something was wrong right away. I tried to deny it. She asked if something was going on between us-“

“God seriously Har! I said not to-“

“Did you want me to go back and pretend to be in love with her when I just had a fucking bomb go off in my life!? I know you don’t want to be that girl YN but I don’t want to be that shitty guy who stays with someone because he feels bad! What does that make me?”

I can picture Elise’s face in my mind. Oh god.

“She wasn’t mad-“

“You wish.” I snort.

“No she wasn’t. Well she was at first because she thought I was with you and her at the same time. I explained. I apologized. She got it. She…turns out she was still hung up over her ex. That she really liked me but she was mostly doing it to get her parents off her back. Because they never like who she dates. Which wasn’t a great thing to hear but…I’m pretty sure I saw her catching a cab as I was leaving. Maybe she went back to her ex.”

I’m dumbfounded with his retelling of what happened after I’d left.

“She’s okay. Are we?” He asks when I don’t reply.

The bouquet looks rough, like it was maybe clutched too hard and the flowers are nearing the end of their life. I imagine Harry rifling through a flower stand to find something for me. Coming here because he couldn’t wait.

I was kidding myself. I couldn’t wait either.

“Okay.”

“Okay??” He asks but he’s closing the distance because he’s reading me. He already knows me.

“Fine.” I say as he loops his arms around my waist. I stretch my arms up around his shoulders, clasping them at his neck. Something throbs deep in my chest. I missed him.

“I missed you,” he says. Always reading my mind.

“I didn’t know I could.” I say to him. His eyes are filled with a raw emotion that mirrors whatever’s aching in my chest.

“You’re like something from the gallery,” he cups my face. “Beautiful and original, breathtaking and you pass by it every opportunity you get just to get another glimpse. It makes you realize what you’ve been missing your whole life.”

“Aw Har,” my voice wobbles. If this was Harry when he was direct and not giving shitty hints I don’t know how I was going to survive us.

“What?” He whispers.

“You’ve got a soft side. You’re not actually a prick.”

His dimples make an appearance as he smiles. “I told you. I’ve just got standards don’t I.”

I wanted all of him—god how did I fool myself this whole time. I wanted all of him. He was just so lovely. “I think you’re going to ruin me,” I whisper back. His grin disappears and he tugs me ever closer.

“You’ve already ruined me.” He says. “I can’t look at any piece of art without thinking of you. I can’t go a day without wondering about you.”

“Is that healthy?” I murmur. My heart drums.

“Who the fuck cares about healthy?” He laughs.

We gaze at each other, the blood rushes through my body at high speeds.

“Mutual ruin?” I ask.

He responds with a kiss so passionate that I forget how to breath. I’m sure my towel was being held up by our bodies at this point.

“Mutual ruin. Or you can just ruin me.” His lips brush against my ear, feather down my neck. “I’m madly in love with you YN. There’s nobody but you.”

I don’t know whether to laugh from giddiness or cry from how my heart overflows.

“Har, I think I get the hint.” I say instead. He laughs.

“Fucking finally.”

💟💟💟💟

[seoulmatez]

𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝑒𝓎𝑒𝓈

itoshi rin x reader ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ♡

a/n: something short and sweet for valentine's day :3

There are two places you can look if you’re trying to find Rin on Valentine's Day—the arena where he practices or the comfort of his home. The hallmark holiday has never meant much to him and he’s always made that much abundantly clear. It’s never bothered you, his indifference, that is. You’re usually just as busy and the two of you go out on enough dates any other day of the year that celebrating doesn’t feel like a necessity.

So when Valentine's Day comes and goes this year without a peep from your boyfriend, you don’t bat an eye.

The next day is much like any other—Rin is off to practice and you’re back at work. Though, when it’s time for you to clock out, you don’t start on the way home like you usually do. Instead, you make a stop at the store and then walk the route to Rin’s apartment.

You check the time as you approach the door. The sun has almost set—he should be home by now. You slow to a stop when his apartment number comes into view, raising your fist to knock thrice on his door. The stillness—silence—of the hallway makes you awkwardly rock back and forth on your feet as you wait for a response. A few moments pass before you hear something on the other side of the door, then it opens.

Rin looks freshly showered—deep strands of hair looking even darker with their dampness, the fresh scent of soap wafting through the air. He pulls the door open wider in a silent invitation to let you in. “Hey.”

“Hi.” You shoot him a smile as you join him in the entryway, kicking your shoes off in favor of house slippers. You meet his teal gaze once more. “How was practice?”

He hums noncommittally as he closes the door, rolling his shoulders back with his reply. “Fine. I’m a little sore.”

“Sit. I’ll give you a massage.” You’re no masseuse but even if you can offer him only a little relief, you’re more than happy to try. And Rin doesn’t argue, he simply follows your gentle command, plopping down on the couch without another word. You shrug your bag off your shoulder to join him and catch sight of something when you move to set it down. 

 “Oh, here—got these for you.” You grab the box of chocolates you picked up before coming here and hold it out to him as you sit beside him on the couch.

Rin eyes the heart-shaped box warily before hesitantly taking it. He’s suddenly struck with a sense of unease, one that makes him feel even more tense than he already had after practice. Yesterday had passed so quietly that he’d forgotten about it—he thought you had too.  “...Why?”

You shrug. “They were on sale. Why not?”

It’s more than that, though. You don’t voice it, but the small gesture, to you, is meant to serve as a reminder that you love him. One that’s meant to have no strings attached—though, that part of your little plan does seem to have unfolded how you hoped if Rin’s silence and indifferent countenance is any evidence.

You’re about to speak up and tell him that you don’t expect anything in return, that this isn’t you saying that you want more—but his voice sounds in the air before yours has the chance to.

“Then…” he opens the box and picks out one of the chocolates, holding it out to you, “half are yours.”

You grin happily and your expression is infectious enough to spread to Rin, albeit, in the form of a smaller smile. You lean forward toward his hand. “Don’t mind if I do.”

sua here ( ≧ᗜ≦) thanks for reading! if u enjoyed, reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

I Just Wanted To Play

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~400

Warnings: implied smut

Summary: You and Spencer return from an afternoon of paintballing. Your mother is less than thrilled when she sees what he did to you.

Square Filled: "I just want to play." for @mfbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

It’s a peaceful afternoon in the Y/N household. Your mom got up early and enjoyed her coffee on the wrap-around porch in the cool spring sun, she read every bit of the newspaper, and she even did a bit of the crossword puzzle that came with the paper. She’s retired so she doesn’t have any plans besides sitting at home, watching her shows, and enjoying time alone. You moved back in with her once rent got too high, but she loves having you back with her.

She’s at the kitchen island going through the many coupons that came in a booklet when the front door slams open. She jumps from the sudden noise but calms when she hears both your and Spencer’s voices.

She loves Spencer, don’t get her wrong. She loves that you love spending time with him. She doesn’t love what his job entails. You work in a corporate building as a social media manager. He works in the FBI with dangerous criminals. She admires what he does. She admires that he is able to bring down people who inflict harm on others, but she doesn’t want you around it.

She’d been around it since your father was in the FBI. He died on the job several decades ago, and now she hates you being around anything that involves danger. Still, she’s not going to tell you who you can and can’t hang out with, but she’ll definitely frown upon you dating Spencer or anyone else in the field.

You know she’s like this because she loves you. If you do end up dating someone in the field, you know she’ll eventually learn to accept it. Your mother looks up when you come storming into the kitchen covered in paintball splotches.

“How was paintballing?” she asks.

“Come on, it was a joke,” Spencer says, following after you.

Funnily enough, he doesn’t have as much paint on him as you do.

“I’m mad at you,” you glare.

“Why? I just wanted to play.”

“Because when we went paintball shooting, I said to avoid my face. What’s the first thing you do?” You pull your collar down to expose the purple splotch on your neck. “You shoot me in the fucking neck.”

“Spencer, you have to be careful with her,” your mom sighs. “She’s fragile.”

“Sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Go take a shower before you repaint my entire kitchen.”

You wait until your mom has left before turning to Spencer with a mischievous grin.

“Do you think she bought it?”

“Yeah, it was convincing. I liked it.”

You grab Spencer’s shirt and pull him into you. He sides one hand into your hair, grips it, and tugs your head back to control the kiss.

“If you’re quiet, we can shower together so I can mark your pretty little neck up some more.”

You shove him away from you and run from him, giggling when you hear his footsteps coming after you.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[ssentimentals]

hi nini!! hope you doing great today 😊 saw your prompt list for your 1.7k followers celebration (HAPPY 1.7K FOLLOWERS NINI!! 🥺💐). could i possibly request svt woozi x oc/reader with prompt no. 8 pls? thank you so much!! been reading your works since last yr and all of it are so amazingggg ><

hi anonie! ahhh thank you so much!! i'm so happy you're enjoying my works :') and of course you can request, thank you for doing so! 💜

prompt: 'who did this to you?'

'baby, i'm home!' you announce, closing the door behind yourself. quickly taking off your hat and scarf, you start unbuttoning your coat, talking loudly: 'god, it's freezing outside! please tell me that you managed to fix our heater, this zero degrees situation is frankly ridicilous. oh and i also got us tacos cause it's friday and we deserve tacos!'

you stumble into the living room with wide smile and bag full of said tacos in your hands, pausing at the sight of an empty room with your boyfriend nowhere in sight. jihoon always makes a point of greeting you from work, has this whole routine of coming over with gentle smile and even gentler hands that instantly pull you close for a hug. the silence in apartment is suspicious and you paddle slowly to the kitchen and then to the bedroom. you call his name again and when instead of a usual 'hey baby' you get 'don't come in!' from him, you start getting nervous. 'what's happening? why i can't come in?'

'uh- nothing, it's all good, you can enter the bedroom just not our bathroom, okay? i'll be out in a second.'

jihoon's voice sounds strained and it lacks usual warmth that he always has reserved for you. without thinking twice you enter the bedroom and make a beeline towards the bathroom, leaning on the door but not opening it, not yet. 'what is going on?' you ask carefully. 'i'm getting anxious here, ji, don't do this to me.'

jihoon knows how bad you are with situations like that, knows that your anxiety skyrockets when you have no idea what is happening. last thing he wants is to make you worried though, so with a sigh he unlocks the door, letting you in. he saw his reflection in the mirror and is aware of how black eye contrasts with his pale skin, but when he catches look of pure shock on your face, he thinks maybe he underestimated his skills of using concealer. 'um,' he starts unsurely. 'sorry, i don't have my own makeup so i took your concealer without asking first.'

that brings you back as you sputter, stepping closer to him with worried eyes. 'wha- you think that's what i care about right now?' you ask indignantly and with careful hands you take a hold of his face. 'baby, what happened? who did this to you?'

jihoon doesn't really want to answer this question. he knows it's very justified but he can't tell you that some guys at work were making stupid jokes about his relationships and one of them took it too far. he normally can't care less of what people think but not when it comes to you; he's not proud of how he handled it, but he doesn't regret sticking up for you against others. looking at your eyes that are slowly starting to fill up with tears, jihoon knows that he'll fight however many guys on this planet because you are his diamond and he won't let anyone speak badly about you. out loud he says only: 'you should see the other guy. this,' he motions to his black eye, 'is nothing compared to how he looks now.'

it's not enough to ease your worries but it does make you laugh and spal his shoulder. 'jihoon!' you shake your head. 'don't even try to cover it up with jokes. oh god, it looks horrible,' you lean closer, inspecting his face. 'oh baby. what happened? are you okay? should we go to the hospital?'

your sweetness washes over him and jihoon smiles, tugging you closer. 'no need, i'm good. just got this black eye and that's it. and we just- misunderstood each other.'

you raise your eyebrow at this. 'you're not type of guy who punches first and asks questions later. what happened, baby?'

jihoon glances at the bag on the floor and smiles. 'did you got us something on the way home?'

you turn, smiling. 'yeah, tacos from our favorite place. wait, don't try to distract me mister, tell me-'

'i am starving,' jihoon interrupts and leans in, pecking your lips. 'you know what can really help me right now? will make me feel better? you on my lap while we're eating our favorite tacos. hm? can we do that, angel?'

jihoon knows that you're tactful enough to know when not to push, but he can see battle happening in your eyes. at last you decide to let it go for now, letting him pull you to the kitchen. jihoon easily wraps one arm around your waist and pulls you on his lap, ignoring your squeak of protest. 'thank you for the tacos, baby,' he mutters, kissing your shoulder. 'you're the best.'

'mhm,' you turn to him, wiggling a little until you get comfortable. 'we will talk anyways, ji. just not now.'

jihoon nods. not now is enough. he was so distraught when he came back home that having you like this is truly the only thing that can make him feel better. he hugs you tighter and leans with his forehead on your back. 'tell me about your day, baby. please,' he asks quietly.

your hand finds his and you giving it a squeeze before starting to recount everything what happened with you today. jihoon feels tension leave his body at the sound of your voice and your body close to him. when you absentmindedly start caressing his hand, he smiles. yeah, he's very okay with getting into fights on your behalf. you deserve it.

a/n: hopefully you liked it, let me know! <3 - nini

request your own here

[finelinevogue]

but what is she surprises aaron with flowers and a bath. where she’s looking after him but he’s like you need to be in here with me to be perfect. because this man never lets himself be taken care of 😭

aaaahhhh omg no i will cry this is so cute for v day 🥹🥹🥹🥹 okay let’s do it!

pairing - aaron hotchner x wife!reader

word count - ~1.5k

In your opinion; being married to someone does not mean you stop dating that person.

Your person happened to be the workaholic, grump, that is Aaron Hotchner. Not only is he the Unit Chief of the BAU in the FBI, but he is also more importantly your husband and father to three.

“That’s so pretty, Cassie-baby.” You cooed at your daughter who was drawing her dad a valentine’s day card.

Aaron does so much for his team at work and even more at home for you, so you decided to treat him extra special on this extra special day.

Cassie, your 2 year old, Dylan, your 5 year old and Jack your 10 year old were all sitting at the kitchen table perfecting their valentines day cards for their dad.

You had given yours to Aaron already.

“Mm.”

Aaron sighed as he felt your kisses trail over his exposed back. His face was shoved into his pillow, head turned away from you, as he was softly woken from his sleep.

“Morning.” You kissed him again, leaning further over his body so you could kiss his neck closer to his face.

“I love you, but why are you awake?” His voice was so low and muffled that it did something to your core.

“It’s valentines day.”

Aaron smiled in response. He of course knew what day it was, he just hadn’t expected you to wake up at 5AM just so you could tell him that.

He did appreciate the gesture though.

“I’ve got something for you.” You whispered into his ear, before giving his lobe a soft kiss and small bite. Aaron happily sighed at the feeling.

You handed him his card and told him that you were going to take an indulgent shower.

You watched Aaron flick on the bedside light about to open and read the card you had gifted him. He took pride in caring for things like this. That’s when he saw the clock on the bedside table.

4:45AM.

“Honey, not that I don’t love the fuss but you’ve woken me up 15 minutes early.” Aaron whined, because he did love his sleep regardless of how much he looked like he didn’t.

“Did I?” You asked, slipping off your pyjama top so you were bare, “Or did I just give us an extra 15 minutes to take a shower together?”

You left him to think on that question.

But you knew you made the right choice when less than thirty seconds later Aaron came up behind you in the shower.

Before you could go down that route in your mind, you returned to helping your kids out.

“Jack, that’s amazing bud.” You gasped. He’d drawn a picture of the whole family and labelled everyone too for good measure. “Uhh, who’s this?” You pointed.

“That’s our dog.” He explained.

“We don’t have a dog.” You said, confused.

“We will. I’m working on it.” He nodded and you had to laugh at the boy’s ambition. You no doubt probably would end up with a dog, because Aaron could not say ‘no’ to his kids.

Dylan was writing his name super neatly - for a 5 year old - at the bottom of his card.

“Wow, Dyl-man. You’re so clever.” You kissed his head.

“I know.” He smiled up at you.

“Daddy will be home in an hour, okay? So let’s finish these and then get our pyjamas on before dinner.”

<.><.><.>

When Aaron came home the first thing he noticed was how quiet it was.

Normally there was at least one child screaming, or dinner was coking, or even the TV was on for the kids to watch. This evening there was nothing.

“Honey?” Aaron called out.

He took off his blazer and hung it on the staircase, dropping his briefcase next to it.

He stood there for another moment, looking around the house and undoing his tie so he could place it next to his blazer.

“Y/N?” He called out again - more concerned this time.

He walked into the kitchen and noticed that the oven was on with his dinner being warmed inside.

The thing that caught his eyes though was the trio of cards sat on the table that were all addressed to him. He picked them up one-by-one and admired the drawings and writings inside.

He had really poor artists for children but at the same time Aaron believed they were all MOMA worthy.

Aaron fetched a glass of water after reading the cards, keeping them propped up so everyone could see. Now he wanted to see his family to give them all the kisses they deserved.

He went upstairs to the kids playroom.

It was there that he found everyone.

You were wall inside the massive fort that Aaron had helped Jack make last weekend. It was a wonder it was still standing actually.

The fort was huge and nearly spanning the whole room. It was a combination of random bedsheets and blankets, along with strings of tiny, hanging, fairy lights and fluffy pillows to cover the floor.

Aaron leaned against the door as he watched you read a book to your children. They were all in their pyjamas, tucked under blankets and wearing sleepy faces. Cassie was already asleep against your chest, but Dylan and Jack were trying their best to pay attention to you and the story.

“Room for one more?” Aaron asked as he knelt down in front of the fort entrance.

“Daddy!” Dylan cheered, perking up at the sight of his dad. Jack was the same, but Cassie was too asleep to notice.

“Hey, my buddies.” Aaron laughed as his sons hugged him tight. He hugged them back tighter.

“We missed you.” Jack said.

“I miss you too.” He kissed Jack’s head and then thought it was only fair he did the same to Dylan’s. He would kiss Cassie’s when he put her to bed later.

Aaron looked over his sons to where you were laid looking at them all - a loving smile on your face.

Aaron mouthed ‘I love you’ to you and you mouthed it back, before Aaron clambered into the fort and settled down for the rest of the bedtime story.

<.><.><.>

You sat with Aaron as he had his dinner.

“Was Spencer any better today?” You asked, drying the dishes that you had cleaned before.

“He was okay. He was okay enough to talk about the origins of beans for half an hour, at least:” Aaron chuckled as he drank from his water.

“Origins of beans?” You questioned.

“Don’t ask.” Aaron rolled his eyes, before tucking back into his dinner.

You were both happy to be silent in each other’s company as Aaron ate and you dried and put away dishes. The kids had been put to bed an hour or so ago, so it was just you two for the night now.

“Dinner okay?” You asked.

You came up beside Aaron and brushed a hand through his hair. His arm wrapped around your waist as he kept you close against him as he ate.

“Mhm. Lovely, thank you.”

You smiled as you accepted his politeness.

You bent over to kiss his head - something you as a family did a lot. Even Jack had started doing it to his siblings after seeing you and Aaron do it all the time.

“You need a shower.” You said, pulling back from his head.

Aaron pinched your side gently, “Love you too.” He said sarcastically.

“Oi!” You laughed.

“Supposed to be nice to each other today.”

“What? Just because it’s valentines day?”

“Yes.” Aaron finished his meal and twisted in his chair so you stood between his legs. His other arm came around your waist so you were trapped against him.

You steadily brushed his hair into formation after having ruined it a little when you’d messed with it before.

“I love you every day, not just because it’s valentines day.” You explained. “Do you?”

“Did you just ask me whether I love you every day?” Aaron scoffed.

“Well?”

“Sweetheart, there hasn’t been a day since I met you that I haven’t loved you. I just love you a little extra today.”

“Oh you do, do you?” You teased.

“Mhm.”

“Well if you love me that much…” You said seductively, leaning down as Aaron’s head tilted back in anticipation of kissing you. Just as you were about to kiss him you whispered, “… Then you can clean your own dishes.”

You leant back up and left Aaron hanging.

He raised an eyebrow in challenge over your actions and you knew that you’d pay for your teasing later. For now he could clean his dishes - alone.

You needed him alone in order to prepare the next part of his valentines day.

<.><.><.>

Aaron trudged up the stairs after turning off the lights downstairs and setting the alarm.

He unbuttoned his shirt a little as he reached the top, stopping at three when he focused on checking on his kids instead.

Each of them were sleeping when he checked.

They were all safe and that’s all that Aaron needed reassuring of.

He walked into your bedroom next and noticed you weren’t in bed reading like he had expected you to be.

He shut the bedroom door and called your name.

“In here.” You responded from the bathroom.

Aaron’s shirt was now all the way unbuttoned but he kept it on as he entered the bathroom.

He knocked as he entered to give you time to tell him to get out if needed.

“Yeah?”

Aaron watched as you checked the temperature of the bath water, which was filled with bubbles, before shaking off the water and rolling your sleeve back down.

The bathroom smelt like those calming bath salts Penelope had bought for both of you.

“What’s all this?” Aaron asked, gesturing to the bath and the warm glowing candles on the counter.

“Happy valentines day.” You smiled.

“Honey.” Aaron pouted as he looked from the room to you, standing there with a smile that would bring even the grumpiest of men to their knees. “This is for me?”

“Yeah. Enjoy.” You leant up to kiss his cheek as you tried to walk past him, but he caught your arm before you could.

“Woah, woah. Where are you going?”

“Uh.. To let you enjoy this.” You furrowed your brows.

“How?” He asked seriously.

“What?”

“How am I supposed to enjoy this, without you?”

His question made your brows soften and you couldn’t help but fall in love with him a little bit more.

“You do so much for us Aaron. Thought you might want a moment of peace.”

“Well you thought wrong, because all I want right now is you.” He leant down to kiss you, “And that bath.”

You laughed into the kiss he was giving you, “Okay then. You, me and the bath it is.”

[eschairsnotebook]

So, my husband’s body (45M) got hijacked, and I (42M) had the best sex of my life. Now what?

Okay, so I wasn’t sure where to post this, but I need to tell somebody because I’m still reeling from what the hell just happened. Maybe this is more of an r/confessions or even an r/trueoffmychest post? I don’t know. But anyway, here goes.

So, my husband (let’s call him Mark) and I have been married for almost eight years. We’ve got two adopted kids, a pretty routine life—work, school drop-offs, grocery runs, weekend movie nights, all that good suburban dad shit. Mark is… steady. Like, extremely steady. Dependable, sexy in a “solid oak tree” kind of way. Always been a great dad, great partner. Reliable. So when he tells me a few days ago that he’s planned a surprise date night for us, I’m excited, right? This is rare. He arranges for my sister to take the kids for the evening, makes reservations at a fancy-ass restaurant, the works. Romantic as hell.

So, cut to last night. I drop off the kids, come back home, and Mark is already dressed up, looking fucking delicious in a crisp button-up and slacks. But something is…off. Like, he looks like Mark, sounds like Mark, but the energy? Not quite the same. He’s standing differently, like looser? More fluid? Mark’s always been confident, but this was something else. He gives me this slow, knowing smile when I walk in, and I swear to god my dick twitches before I even fully understand why.

Then, in the most casual voice ever, he says, “The kids are gone?”

And I nod, still kind of stuck in my head trying to figure out what’s different.

Then he laughs. And that’s when I know something’s wrong. Mark doesn’t laugh like that—low, smug, like he’s savoring something. And then his throat convulses. His lips curl back, and suddenly, his jaw stretches too wide, too unnatural, and something pushes through.

I freeze. Because it’s a head—a different head—emerging through Mark’s gaping mouth, black and slick and grinning.

It looks familiar. Like that comic book goo-monstery thing from the Venom movies.

My husband’s body jerks as "Venom" forces himself forward, wearing Mark like a grotesque meatsuit, controlling him like a glove. His voice slithers out from Mark’s throat, two-toned and taunting. “That’s a shame,” he says, “you were really into it a second ago.”

My breath hitches. “Who—what—are you?”

His stolen grin stretches wider. “Tonight, you can just call me Mark.” And then the goo monster retreats, slithering back inside, leaving my husband’s body standing there—but now, Mark is different.

And then the new Mark throws me onto the bed.

What happens next is a blur of strength, heat, and raw, unapologetic power. He moves with purpose, with an intensity that Mark never has. His hands grip me like he owns me, his mouth claiming mine, his body relentless as he watches our every move in a full-length mirror across the room. The way he touches me, devours me—it’s overwhelming, mind-meltingly good.

Mark never takes control like this. He never uses me the way "Venom" does.

And I fucking love it.

Hours later, after I’ve been utterly ruined, my body aching in the best possible way, "Venom" shoots off me and away, a black mass peeling from Mark’s body like liquid shadow. My husband collapses onto the mattress, unconscious, his chest rising and falling in steady breaths. When he wakes in the morning, he remembers nothing.

But now, every time I look at him, I keep thinking about that other version. And how badly I want it to happen again.

If I’ll ever be able to go back to normal.

So yeah. Am I cheating if it was still technically my husband? Because uh. Yeah. I think I might be in trouble.

[gublerryswift]

Museum meet cute | Spencer Reid x Reader

meet cute | fluff

In which you have your own meet cute in a museum visit

Warnings: None

Content: Reader meets spencer in a museum and he does a classic Reid ramble (she loves it, it's cute)

All the studying for your master’s degree was starting to get to you, the sleepless nights, the stress and one of the most draining: the lack of fun. You had never been one to spend weekends in parties and clubs, hating the crowded spaces and loud music, your type of fun consisted more of slow things like vising libraries, museums and expositions, but lately you couldn't even find time for those little things that brought you so much joy. Well, this ended tonight. 

After sending what you hoped would be the last draft for your thesis, you decided you deserved to finally have some fun. You got ready in your favorite outfit, and stepped out the house, the first stop was your favorite coffee shop to grab a caramel macchiato before heading to your favorite museum. You had heard of this new exposition of a painter caller “Walter Sickert” that sounded fascinating and were excited to finally see it, as you walked into the exposition you were mesmerized by the beauty of the work there, never been one to totally understand art and all the meanings and references, but you always had a soft spot for it, a thing that captivated you to those paintings and sculptures. 

As you walked into the exposition, the soft lights above the paintings, the faint sound of the surrounding conversations, it all made you feel at home, you noticed how much you had missed these places. One in particular caught your attention, a painting of a woman looking straight out, her gaze seemed lost and half of her face was not painted, you were intrigued by it and stood there trying to make understand what might be the history behind what you were seeing.

A couple of minutes later, you felt a presence beside you, you looked to the side and saw a tall man standing there dressed with a cardigan you internally wished were yours and these glasses that made him look like one of those philosophy professors, his hands inside his pockets also admiring the painting. 

“Mesmerizing, isn't it?” He speaks, pulling you out of your thoughts. His voice is soft and quiet as to not disturb the other people in the gallery, you look over to him, a small smile forming on your lips as you nod. 

"Absolutely." you reply. "There's something about this style of art that just catches my attention, it's so…" You drift off, trying to find the right words for how you were feeling 

“Hauntingly beautiful” He completes your sentence, giving you a small shy smile that made your heart flutter 

“Yeah, exactly that. I couldn't put it into words before”

You two fall in a comfortable silence, admiring the painting in front of you until he breaks the silence. “You know, some people believe that this artist was actually Jack the ripper”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, not expecting the random mention of a serial killer,  “What, really? Why?” You turn to him, your genuinely curious expression seems to only fuel his excitement, he smiles and begins talking. The words roll out his mouth like he’d just been waiting for the moment to drop this. 

“Some DNA analyzed from the letter jack sent to the police matched with the author's, also he has a series of paintings called 'Camden town murder’ which were made at the same time jack committed his crimes in the same town, also he is said to have worked in a studio that once was occupied by the ripper himself” You nod along and smile, being a sucker for true crime and history you really were interested in what this guy was saying, plus the speed in which he talked was perfect for your brain, and you found yourself immersed in his explanation. 

“However” He lifts his pointer finger in a way that makes you hold back a giggle, god this man was cute – Why were you finding a man who was talking about a painter possibly being a killer cute? Maybe all the time inside your house made you lose your self-preservation skills. “Forensic scientists believe that most, if not all the letters sent to the police weren't actually sent by the killer, and all the other possible evidence is very circumstantial so the probability of him actually being jack the ripper is almost none, still an interesting hypothesis though.” He smiles and nods as he finishes his explanation, and he starts fidgeting with the strap of his satchel bag. 

“Wow, that's actually really interesting, I would never imagine it” You smile at him “It's really impressing how you just know all that” 

“Thank you, my brain is basically filled with a bunch of random facts just waiting to be said” He chuckles, and you notice a light blush showing up in his cheeks as he looks away from your gaze, going back to staring at the painting. 

“I never got your name” You say, trying to keep the conversation going, you were drawn to him for some reason and didn't want to part ways so soon. 

“I'm Spencer, and you are…” You tell him your name, smiling at him. 

You were never the girl who would ask guys out or try their number, always being shy you were terrified of rejection, but right now you met this really cute guy who seemed so smart and was exactly your type, and you really didn't want to just leave it at this, so with a sudden courage you decide to take the plunge.

“You know, this museum has a really good coffee shop downstairs, would you like to go?” You smile at him, feeling your heart thump on your chest from the nervousness. 

Spencer's eyes widen in surprise, but a warm smile spreads across his face as he nods eagerly, agreeing to your spontaneous invitation “Yes, I'd love to, maybe I can find more painter fun facts to tell you”

“Oh can't wait” you let out a giggle as you both start to walk out.

[cherryblossompink303]

Patience *Bonus Chapter*: ~degrees of seperation~

➼ pairing: Kyoya Ootori x Reader ➼ summary: Oceans apart can be very far away, and Kyoya never expected how far it would actually feel ➼ what to expect:  "If i didn't know better Kyoya Ootori I would think that you miss me" ➼ warnings: n/a

A/n: when someone comments that the next chapter will be y/n and Kyoya being masterminds and I already had this chapter written T-T

You had to admit that the flutter that you felt in your chest when you heard the familiar jingle of the video call on your computer. The summer is going incredibly since you left Japan for an internship in Italy, you found yourself counting down the hours for Kyoya to call.

"Hello?" it is already dark for Kyoya when you answer, a symptom of the time difference. "Hi" you smile, still unpacking your bag as you had only just got in from work that day. "How did talking with that competator of your father go?"

Kyoya takes a sharp inhale at the mention of the meeting "As well as we could hope. I've sworn them to secracy even if they do not accept our offer" you nod "Good, I'm sure they will, they've been looking for a way to get back at the ootori group for years" Kyoya laughs through a hum "Very true"

"How was work?"

"Alright, in full honesty if they were paying me I probably could have fixed half their issues by now, but I also don't want to work for them long term so what would be the point?" Kyoya smirks "Sounds about right"

A comfortable silence overcomes the two of you as you both basque in your combined success. "Are you being well looked after?" you roll your eyes "Yes, you know that I am" Kyoya had insisted in you staying in one of his families properties while you were in Italy.

"Do you have enough money?" you laugh "I don't think money has ever been an issue" it is kyoya's turn to roll his eyes. "I am just making sure, the less you have to rely on your parents money the better”

You huff “yes Kyoya I am fine”

“Good.”

You shake your head at kyoyas expression “what’s got you so worried?”

“Your father called today.”

Oh.

You try to seem unbothered, looking away “oh really?” Kyoya hummed, leaning back in his seat “he’s wondering why you haven’t gone home”

You raise an eyebrow “and he called you?”

“He thinks I’ve kidnapped you” you laugh at the reply “in a way he’s not fully wrong” Kyoya scoffed “like you didn’t leap to stay at the villa instead of with your nonna”

“What did you say?”

“That you are extremely busy with work placements”

“Good”

Kyoya cleared his throat “he also mentioned something else”

“Hmm?”

“Now that we’re going into third year…he said that the l/n and ootori group are going to release a joint statement confirming our engagement by the end of the year”

“What?”

This was a strange move, even for your fathers of all people.

“I would have thought that they would have waited until we graduated to announce….why move it up?”

Kyoya hums in agreement “something must have prompted them”

You wrack your brain for any idea on what would trigger them to hasten the arrangement. “Well if my father is the one that is moving it up…possibly he is sensing that your father is getting cold feet?”

He raises an eyebrow “I mean possibly but I don’t know where he would get that idea, I must admit I haven’t really spoken to my father on the matter”

It is only now that is hits you exactly what you had just been told. “Wait Kyoya, if the engagement is announced what about the host club-“

“I’ll handle that, don’t worry”

You sigh, leaning back, shaking your head “I mean…I guess if it’s moved up then it’s still happening…that’s good right?”

“I suppose, it does mean that you won’t be with them for as long after we graduate” Kyoya sighed, taking out his notebook and scribbling something down that you can't see onscreen.

You keep forgetting somehow that this engagement is actually going to end in marriage despite that being the entire point. It makes you wonder actually what life being married to Kyoya would even look like.

You always used to picture it as being cold, that the two of you would just live in the same house and for the most part mind your own business. But that was before you actually started talking to each other now you have no idea.

"How are the host club?" Kyoya groans, leaning back in his seat "As infuriating as ever, they're even harder to handle without you here to keep them in check"

You laugh "It is still the summer I am sure that they haven't been that bad" you shake your head, taking a sip of your coffee. "Tamaki's delusions ae unfortunately not seasonal i'm afraid"

"I can imagine"

"That does remind me however, our said great leader has asked for your proposed events calendar for the next semester" You have to restrain yourself from laughing midsip at kyoya's newfound nickname.

"Ok, I'll have to get started on it then, I've been a bit busy planning corperate sabotage to work on it"

"It will work out, I am sure of it"

You pause. "There is...still one more thing that we still don't know"

"Hm?"

"What exactly my father is covering up for the ootori group"

Kyoya sighs "yeah, I've been trying to look into that, the problem is trying to investigate within the ootori group without exposing our plans"

you hum in agreement "true, it is just concerning that if the group is so desperate to cover something up that your father would arrange a marriage with the head of a media empire for his daughter then it is serious, the ootori group is in medical..."

"I dread to think aswell"

Things were just going to get messy this next year, you just knew it.

"When....are you returning to Japan?"

You're head shoots up at the question, surely he already knows, a detail like that does not slip under Kyoya's radar.

"I...my placement ends on the nineteenth, you know that"

"I know...I just...thought I have may have gotten my dates wrong"

"Why would you think that? your notes as meticulous I know that much"

"I know it's just, it feels like you've been gone for a long time so..."

You raise an eyebrow "If i didn't know better Kyoya Ootori I would think that you miss me"

"More like I need someone else to deal with tamaki and the twins" You roll your eyes "You love them don't be so mean"

"If you say so"

You roll your eyes "Okay well if they are that unbearable it will be one more week until I am returning to Japan, and then your torment will be over don't worry"

Kyoya lets out a small chuckle "Good"

"Goodnight Kyoya"

"Goodnight y/n"

The room all of a sudden feels all too quiet as the call ends. One more week.

Next time on patience 'Kyoya's reluctant day out!'

Tag list (reply to be added): @skottch @cgmajor @rebirthbunbun @bbybubbles @blueberry19000 @katgirl05 @smellslikelovinglies @veras-fanfic-reblogs @sadprimrose @mirtalikesdr @sleeplesssskeleton @ritzes28 @crackpeole @rory-cakes @renjunniex @II-kita-san-II @angelicwillows @missbrebre1012 @sleep-7372 @strawberrbitch @reticent-writer @eternal-dokja @meme848 @mistyhydrangeagarden

[thekatebridgerton]

Kanthony revenge regresion au

So hear me out @sea-owl just hear me out. What if we did a Kanthony regresion revenge au.

In which, Kate's first life was more or less not involved with Anthony and Edwina's courtship. She was just focused on getting Edwina married off and didn't care who she married.

Then Edwina bagged the Viscount Bridgerton and Kate thought this was the jackpot, BUT it turned out that Anthony made Edwina miserable for the rest of her life by neglecting her and doing exactly what he said he would do in the books, and having mistress after mistress while Edwina wilted away at home trying to be the Viscountess that the Bridgerton brood needed. And Kate who had to live the life of a spinster aunt/poor relation to Viscountess Edwina spent the rest of her life witnessing kind and gentle Edwina wilt under Anthony's tyranny to the point where Edwina starts having mental breakdowns over not being able to provide Anthony with an heir, with only Kate to console her.

In her first life, years pass, the Bridgertons don't pay attention to Kate, but she sees them destroy their chances at happiness one by one, and because Kate thinks they're all contributing to making Edwina miserable, she doesn't help them. She sees Colin lose Penelope to Debling, Francesca stay in mourning, without giving Michael a chance, Eloise live her life as a bitter spinster, Benedict go from mistress to mistress without knowing that his true love is actually a maid working for Viscountess Edwina. Kate sees Hyacinth and Gregory make mistake after mistake and end up in unhappy marriages themselves and she doesn't pity them or help them one bit. Because in her heart she blames them for Edwina's unhappiness and her eventual death at the hands of robbers during an ill fated trip to Aubrey Hall.

After Edwina dies, Kate blames Anthony and spends a considerable amount of time and resources looking for a way to get revenge and makes a shady deal with some mystical druids to send her back in time to Eloise's first season, so she prepares Edwina better.

In this second run at life, Kate is determined to keep Anthony Bridgerton from marrying Edwina, not only is she royally angry at him for being a jerk husband to her sister in their last life, she's determined to whip him AND his degenerate family into shape. Anthony running off to meet Sienna during Eloise's presentation, Kate will have none of that, he's going to take responsibility over his lunatic family even if it kills her!. Cue sending Eloise a death threat the day before her presentation, sending the house in a frenzy and forcing Anthony to be there. HA HA, lets see how Anthony likes having his nerves destroyed. On the other hand, he does end up being there when she's on her morning ride covering her tracks (for the death threat thing) and she may or may not have told him he's a deplorable human being, so there's that.

But Kate has bigger things to worry about than Anthony being intrigued over the fact she has her morning rides suspiciously close to his house. Someone needs to tell Eloise that the thing with the printer boy isn't going to work out, asap, and honestly, this is the kind of sloppy Lady Whistledown work that got Penelope caught red handed by Debling in the first place so, two birds one shot right?. Twart Eloise stupidity, make Lady Whistledown owe her a favor, and oh right, keep Anthony Bridgerton from dancing with Edwina at all costs during the first ball of the season. As you can see, Kate Sharma is a busy woman. And if she has to dance with Anthony herself to point out that Eloise is running wild right under his nose, well good! he deserves it, also, she's going to step on his feet for good measure.

What do you mean Anthony still wants to marry Edwina? why?? Kate is doing everything she possibly can to keep him busy and away from her sister, doesn't this man have 7 crazy siblings to manage? where does he find time to send flowers??, ugh time to up the ante and force Anthony into taking even more responsibility over his siblings mess ups.

Because by week 2 of the season, Kate has about had it with the Bridgertons! so fine if Edwina is fated to marry into that family of crazy people then Kate is going to have some words with them. Anthony can keep inviting the Sharmas into his house to dine at his table, but that doesn't mean that Kate has to be nice to them. especially the resident second son AND the third, because seriously no wonder they ended up making her sister cry on more than one occasion, for the sake of Edwina, Kate is going to make sure that Anthony's pack of idiots know what should and shouldn't be done to impress a lady with delicate feelings. Also someone get Francesca a box of tissues, Kate may or may not have given her a whole speech about standing up for herself and looking for love on her own terms.

Week 4 of the social season, the good news for Kate? Edwina is seriously considering the proposal of a Bavarian prince, the bad news? Anthony has ditched Sienna and cancelled his membership at the local whorehouse, this is bad news because he's now trying to marry Kate herself...And according to Lady Whistledown all his siblings think she's top candidate for the position of Anthony's Unhappy wife #1. Do these people have a masochist vein she doesn't know about?

Kate doesn't want to marry Anthony. He's an idiot who wouldn't know how to treat his wife with respect if it hit him in the head. Besides all she's done since regressing back in time is interfere with the Bridgerton's lives and call them out on their bad personality traits. And their bad choices.. And their bad relationships. In Kate's opinion that's not exactly the basis for a healthy family dynamic. (Viscountess Violet and Anthony's 6 clingy siblings beg to differ. )

But then again, Kate is getting to know Anthony in ways she never did in her first life, he's been opening up about his life and about the burden of his father's legacy and his hopes and dreams. Could it be that Kate misjudged Anthony all this time, maybe Anthony didn't know how to make Edwina happy in Kate's first life, it wasn't that he didn't want to love Edwina, he just couldn't. He didn't know how to be a husband anymore than Edwina knew how to be a wife. And things broke down before they even began. Maybe just maybe he would be a good husband for someone stubborn and cutting like Kate, in ways he would never be for someone like Edwina.

With Edwina marrying prince Friedrich and Kate's reason to come back in time finally fulfilled, Kate must make a choice, she can go with Edwina to Prussia, and once again live her life dedicated to her sister. Or she can stay in London and give Anthony and his clingy siblings a chance. A real chance.

AN: what do you think

[pascalislove]

THE CALL: Han Jeong-Won x Fem!Reader~28

Summary: Your arrival would change everything, even if Jeong-Won didn't know it yet.

The call came in the middle of the afternoon, interrupting Jeong-Won's work in the studio.

—'Mr. Han, your marriage contract is about to expire,' the agency's professional voice reported. —'We wanted to know if both of them have decided to end it or continue together.'

The question left him silent for a few seconds. His life with Y/N had changed everything; spontaneous laughter, light conversations, and warm nights were no longer part of a simple agreement. They were his reality.

—"I'll talk to her about it," he answered in a controlled voice, although his chest felt tight at the possibility of losing her.

That night, when he got home, he found her in the living room, petting Loki and Momo while the television played some random program. Jeong-Won put his backpack aside and cleared his throat.

—"We have to talk," he said seriously, sitting down next to her. Y/N looked up, her eyes bright, but her expression turned solemn. —I know,— she replied, as if she had anticipated the conversation. —In fact, I wanted to tell you something.

He waited, his heart pounding.

—I think we should finish this,— Y/N said, her voice firm, but her lips trembled just perceptibly.

The words hit him like an unexpected storm. Jeong-Won felt something inside him break.

—"Why?"he asked in a whisper, his voice breaking. She didn't respond immediately, looking away. —It's the best, don't you think? —she added, although his eyes watched him cautiously.

The silence spread like a thick fog until Jeong-Won lowered his head, unable to hold back the tears that filled his eyes.

—¿Why are you crying? Y/N asked, surprised to see him so vulnerable.

—"Because... because I love you," he confessed, his voice choked. —"I don't want to lose you, Y/N".

She opened her eyes in surprise, feeling her heart race. Suddenly, all seriousness disappeared from his face, giving way to a mischievous smile.

—It was a lie,— She said softly. I don't want to end anything with you. Jeong-Won raised his head, stunned.

—"What?

—I wanted to see how you would react,—Y/N admitted, laughing nervously. —I needed to make sure you wanted to stay with me too.

Relief and love mixed in his chest. Without a second thought, he wrapped her in a tight hug, burying his face in her neck.

—"Don't do anything like that to me again," he said hoarsely. —"I felt like my heart was broken".

—I promise I won't,—Y/N whispered, stroking his hair. —But, in case you don't know... I love you too, Han Jeong-Won.

And in that hug, they knew that their love no longer needed contracts or conditions. It was just enough to be together.

This story does not follow the plot of the series, tell me if you like it and if you want me to tag you in the chapters🫶

Tag list:

@anamiad00msday , @czarinera , @beebeechaos, @muchwita, @otakusimp1, @aori-aka03-blog, @preppyfella

THE CALL MASTERLIST

[4ranghaes]

hi so i recently dreamt of taesan being a dad.. i just had a baby and i was pregnant again and when I got home he was holding our baby and said look guess who's back in a cute voice and your dad!bnd agenda came to mind....do you have any thoughts or anything cuz i don't remember a lot anymore 💔

i’m so sorry this has actually been ROTTING in my asks but i was kinda gatekeeping cause i loved it so much

now why would you inflict this on me. anon your BRAIN!!!!!! this ask plus the visual of taesan with the baby in the return of superman video🫠🫠🫠 like you can just tell he loves babies so much and that RUINS me bc this fake ass emo. i SEE YOU BEING CUTE AND LIKING BABIES

and he would be such a good dad😭 i can’t even stress this enough. like the way he loves kids + his good relationship with his dad, i just know he’s waiting for the day he can have kids

and i feel like when i usually talk about dad!taesan i focus on his breeding and pregnancy kink cause that does make me insane tbh but feeling soft today and honestly he would just LOVE being a dad

and like your scenario, he’d love being a parent WITH YOU like he loves the whole teamwork of it, and he’s so hands-on during the day, when he can be, so when you come home from either a day at work or a day off with your friends… he’s just sat in the living room, waving your baby’s tiny fist in his hand and saying “look who it is! is that mummy? is mummy home?!” in a high-pitched, baby-toned, gasping voice, yeah it makes you melt. but for taesan, that’s just being a dad!!

and he’d hold your baby in his arms, your kid facing towards you as he kind of sits on one of taesan’s arms, the other wrapped around his tiny body protectively and he’s kind of rocking as he steps towards you, giving you a quick kiss before letting you fuss over the cutest baby in the entire world totally not biased because he knows that the baby comes first for both of you!!!!! that’s your life!!! that’s your love combined!!!!

but also the fact you mentioned also being pregnant while having a baby🤷🏻‍♀️ sorry, sue me, we’re back to pregnancy kink taesan🤷🏻‍♀️ but honestly i don’t even think it’s a sexual kink only i think he’s just so in awe of you when you’re pregnant, he’s so impressed and he thinks you’re the coolest, sexiest person ever that he just wants to praise you!!!! and sometimes that comes in the form of sex sorry!!!!! and your baby’s just so stinking cute, you two have NO concerns when it comes to making another !!!