#not to say they shouldn’t have felt anything after the revelations

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Finish Line || LS2

Summary: A farewell fic to Logan because I'm a sookie and miss him already. Pairing: Logan Sargeant x fem!reader (living in America) WC: 4k

Summer Break 2021

Your mother always said, “Nothing good is easy and nothing easy is good.” To an eighteen year old fresh out of high school you thought she was referring to studying and exam results, not the more impactful experiences you would face once the red brick walls were left in the rear view mirror. 

It would only take a matter of weeks to learn the real meaning.

Loving Logan wasn’t easy but it was impossible to stop the feeling of falling that came soon after meeting him. From the moment you met there was an indescribable connection but the paths of your future were heading in completely different directions and you knew at the end of summer you would say your goodbyes.

In the meantime you would enjoy what the weather had to offer and what better way to emancipate yourself from the innocence of youth and broadcast to the world that you were an adult than a girls road trip to Miami? You may not have been old enough to drink but that didn’t stop the college guys on summer vacation from keeping you and your friends well supplied. 

Looking back, it only proved how young and naive you were. 

“Dalt, I really shouldn’t be here,” Logan complained as a red cup was thrust into his hand. “I could get in so much trouble for this.”

“Relax, bro, you’ll be fine.” His older brother clapped him on the back happily. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The beach house was right on the waterfront and Logan stepped out onto the white sand to dip his toes in the warm water. He didn’t know who’s family the place belonged to but Dalton seemed to know everyone by name. It only made him feel even more left out and he thought maybe he should have just stayed in England for the summer break. 

The house was stifling with the humid temperatures compounding to a sauna with all the bodies inside. The beer had started off cool but it had warmed in your hands and began to taste disgusting so you abandoned it into the hands of a stranger passing by who swiftly chugged it back before shouting the Greek alphabet you assumed was the name of his frat house. You had certainly bitten off more than you could chew and debated catching a Greyhound bus home where you felt safe but you wouldn’t ditch your friends who were absolutely in their element.

The beach wasn’t like any you had seen before arriving in Miami. The sand bars were tiny pockets of islands and each property seemed to be its own space divided by narrow canals that lead to dry docks for their expensive boats. 

“Mind if I join you?” you asked the stranger who sat in the sand at the water's edge. It was impossible to ignore each other’s presence when the rising tide had left such little space.

“It’s a free country,” he said with a small smile, his palm quickly swiping away the picture he had drawn in the sand. 

“I don’t know about that. Sometimes it feels like a prison. Sorry, that was really morbid.”

He laughed and tipped his head back to the sun that still beat down despite being late in the afternoon. “You’re not wrong though. I love coming home, but sometimes I’m glad I don’t live here anymore. I don’t know how to fit in with that,” he said looking back at drunken revelers who had stripped down to their swimwear despite having no inclination to actually enter the water. 

He looked like the rest of the guys there: tanned skin over a toned body and dirty blonde hair hidden by a cap he wore backwards. The southern drawl also confirmed the fact he called this place home. 

“Where do you fit in then?”

His shoulders shrugged as he picked at a desiccated chain of Neptune’s necklace that had washed up on the beach. He busied himself with plucking each individual bead off the seaweed and flicking it back to the water. “I don’t know.”

“Okay, well, what did you want to be when you were a kid?”

“A Formula One racing driver, or a fisherman.”

You buried your toes in the sand, wiggling them to dig deeper where it was cooler. “I thought the all-american dream was to be an astronaut?”

You met his blue eyes and saw the amusement that sparkled in them. “I’m afraid of heights,” he admitted with a grin before he held out his hand. “I’m Logan.”

“I think we are beyond names here, I already know your hopes and dreams,” you teased, shaking his hand. 

“But I don’t know yours, yet.”

“I can give you my name, but as for hopes and dreams, I have no idea what I want to be. I’m still trying to figure that out.” You realised his hand was still in yours and gave it another small shake. “I’m Y/N.”

As the sun fell below the horizon the party grew larger and soon it spilled into the slice of paradise you had carved out with Logan. Sand was kicked up as two guys tackled each other to the ground and Logan threw a protective arm around you before they could crash into your side.

“Back it up bro,” he said as he rose to his feet and pulled you up too, tucking you in behind his back. “You could have hurt somebody.”

“Aw, Sargeant, is that your girlfriend?”

Logan ignored them and turned to check you were alright. His eyes scanned over your body and slowed on their ascent before he cleared his throat and met your eyes again. “Do you want to get out of here?”

You scanned the crowd and spotted two of your friends dancing and the other sat on some guy's lap, smiles on all their faces. You couldn’t disappear and make them worry but you didn’t want to stay as the party only grew more chaotic. “Yes, please, I’ll just tell my friends I’m leaving.”

You weren’t going to attempt to get amongst the gyrating bodies so instead headed to Dakota. The guy sitting beneath her noticed your arrival first and grinned at Logan as he stepped in beside you, his hand resting on the small of your back. “You’re leaving aren’t you? Well, you lasted longer than I thought you would.”

“You two know each other?” you asked. 

“Only since birth,” Logan answered. “This is my brother, Dalton. Dalton, this is Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said before turning your attention to your friend. “I’m going to head off, Kote. Logan said he can drop me off at the apartment after dinner.”

“Are you sure? I can take you back if you want.”

You laughed and leaned into Logan, enjoying the warmth that came as his arm curled around your waist. “I’m good, someone needs to make sure those two get back.”

You both looked at the twins who had found dance partners and knew the rented 4 bedroom apartment was probably going to double in residents by morning. With a resigned sigh that she didn’t really feel as the group mother, Dakota nodded. “I’ve got them, you two have fun.”

The wink she sent you off with made your cheeks heat but you hadn’t actually planned on doing what the action implied. Of course Logan was attractive, and the thought of taking him to your bedroom was one that had you melting, but you were quite happy just enjoying his company too. 

“Are you hungry? I know this great spot but it’s a bit of a drive from here.”

Out in the street where the sounds of the thumping bass couldn’t reach your stomach rumbled and you smiled sheepishly. “Just a little.”

The restaurant he knew was on Key Largo, about an hour south of where the party was in Miami Beach and you were amazed by how many bridges had been built to connect the keys. It would have felt a bit scary driving over the ocean if it wasn’t for Logan recounting stories of growing up in the state. It was a good distraction to listen to the fondness in his tone as he remembered fishing off the now-closed piers that he pointed out. 

“I think this is where you fit in,” you said as he cruised along the highway in his pickup truck, the radio quietly playing an RnB station in the background. It was warm enough that the window was down and the breeze blew his hair back like a runway model.

He glanced across the car and lifted a questionable brow. “In Florida?”

“No! Behind the wheel. You look, I don’t know, comfortable? No, content, that’s the word.” 

On the beach Logan had shared how he was halfway through the season of Formula 3 in Europe and had hopes to join an F1 team in the future. It was also when he mentioned returning to the country he currently lived in, four thousand miles across the Atlantic Ocean. Despite only just meeting him, you felt the four week countdown arriving like a dark storm cloud.

Those four weeks flew by almost as quickly as you fell in love. 

Summer Break 2024

The soy milk screeched and you winced at the sound before saving the new girl, and the coffee, from the machine. Thankfully it wasn’t scorched as the shop was already full with the busy morning foot-traffic and you wanted to keep it flowing for the customer’s sake. 

“Soy latte with a shot of hazelnut?” A hand went up and you passed the takeaway cup over. “Have a nice day.”

You looked at the next order stuck to the bench and immediately searched for the customer, a smile splitting your face when you found him. “Baby, you’re home! Why didn’t you call?”

Logan ducked under the staff counter and met your embrace with strong arms that pulled you to your tiptoes. “I called, but you must have been busy here. God, it’s good to see you, sweetheart.”

You checked your phone in the pocket of your apron and saw the missed call before slipping it over your head. “Marie, can you keep an eye on everything?”

“Yeah, course, hun, take your time,” the part time barista said with a wave. “Welcome home, Logan.”

“Thank you.” 

You dragged Logan eagerly through the swing door that stated ‘staff only’ and past the break room to the disused office at the back. “I’ve missed you so much,” you managed to say between the desperate kisses you shared as he kicked your door closed. 

“Missed you too.”

Your hands reached beneath his shirt and he chuckled breathlessly as he caught them before they could move any further. “Tempting, sweetheart, but not here.”

You pouted as you draped your arms around his neck instead and held him tight. “I have the studio booked in 20 minutes, did you want to come?”

Logan rolled his eyes at the stupid question and didn’t bother to answer as he tucked his hands into the back of your jeans and buried his face in your hair. “You smell like blueberry muffins,” he hummed happily. 

“I can steal one,” you offered but when you pulled away he quickly pulled you back with a shake of his head.

“Diet.”

You grabbed the flesh on his abdomen, feeling the hard muscle beneath. “You’re perfect, baby, one muffin isn’t going to change that - but it will make you happier. Go grab a seat in the staff room.”

You walked him back down the hall and let him settle into the couch while you grabbed a muffin from the front counter. Most of the rush had quickly cleared and with the lull in orders you made him his favourite drink. 

“You spoil me, sweetheart,” he said with a gratefully smile as you placed the plate and cup on the coffee table. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you.” You sank into the couch beside him and watched him pick apart the muffin, finding all the blueberries to eat first. He could feel your eyes on his hands as they fiddled with crumbs but before he worked up the courage to explain why he caught a flight two days earlier than planned. “What’s going on, baby?”

He exhaled a heavy sigh and wiped his hands clean before taking yours. “I think it’s over.”

Your heart cleaved apart and your ears started ringing as your world came crashing down. There was only one semester left in your art programme before all the plans the two of you made would come to life - plans that started with moving to England with Logan. Plans that were crumbling down.

“It’s over?” you repeated as silent tears streaked your face and your hands slipped from his.

Horror bled into Logan’s features and he snatched your hands back, placing them over his chest where his heart beat rapidly with panic. “Not us, never us,” he rushed with a harsh shake of his head. “Fuck, sweetheart, you are my everything.”

You sagged with relief as he wiped your eyes but the relief was short lived as you understood what he meant and the phantom pain in your chest returned. “Have you spoken to James?”

He nodded and leaned into your touch as your palms ran up his chest to cradle his face. “It’s not good.”

To hear the defeat in his voice was something you never wished to hear again. It was a sound that no 23 year old should make, he was too young to feel the immense pressure he was under and a weaker man would have been broken by it. But Logan was strong, mentally and physically - he would recover from this, you would make sure of it.

“Come on,” you whispered as you rose to your feet and tugged his hands. 

“Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you home.”

“But you have class.”

You grabbed your handbag from your locker and tossed him the car keys. “This is more important, and I can paint anywhere.”

—

The drive to Miami took most of the day and the frown on Logan’s forehead seemed to soften as the arid air turned humid and the paddocks turned to swamp before he sped through Alligator Alley. The top 40 charts played quietly on the radio and Logan hummed along with the ones he liked while he held your hand on your thigh. 

A contented sigh of relief exhaled from deep in Logan’s chest as the sunset and the city lights illuminated the horizon. Though he was tired to his bones, just the sight of his home was enough to rejuvenate him and he sat up a little straighter before taking the exit that would lead him to Fort Lauderdale. 

Madelyn and Daniel were already expecting Logan and the front door opened before he could turn the engine off. It had been a while since they last had Logan home and you felt a little guilty since most of his returns to home soil were to visit you instead, but they didn’t hold it against you. Madelyn was just happy that there was someone who loved and supported Logan as much as she did.  

It was immediately clear that she wasn’t aware of his current struggles as you saw him hide behind a confident smile as she asked how everything was going. 

“I don’t want to disappoint them,” he admitted as he closed his bedroom door after dinner. 

You placed your bag on the floor and took a seat at the headboard before patting the spot beside you. Logan flopped down on the bed and rested his head on your thighs while his long legs hung over the edge, looking up as if you had all the answers. 

“You could never disappoint them, Lo, they just want you to be happy. And, you're worrying about things that haven’t even come to pass. We don’t know what the second half of the season will bring.”

“I know you are being reasonable, but I can’t help thinking this is the end. Everyone else thinks so too.”

“You mean everyone on X, formally known as twitter,” you said with a roll of your eyes that made him chuckle. “How about no social media for the whole break? Just disconnect from it all for four weeks.”

“And what happens at the end of the break?” he asked quietly, sensing deja vu from the last time he asked this three years ago. It was an eerily similar state too with his head on your legs but you were on the white sands instead of a bed. You had already fallen in love but he was due to fly back to Europe and you would be getting in the car with your friends and heading home. He had forever changed you that summer.

You combed your fingers through his hair as you relived the same memory. “We will be grateful for the time we had together.”

A smile tugged at his lips and he sat up so he could pull you onto his lap. “I’m not letting you go again.”

“I should hope not,” you stated as your knees settled either side of his thighs and you reached into his pocket to fish his phone out. “Now say goodbye to this, I am having you all to myself.”

He plucked the phone from your fingers and tossed it to the side table before putting all those glorious muscles to good use. The room spun until he caged your body beneath his and he gently kissed his way across your collarbone. “You already have me, sweetheart.”

–

A sick twisting feeling gripped your gut as you waved goodbye to Logan through misted eyes. No matter what you had said, you could feel his stress growing as the break came to an end and now he was going back alone. You wished you could go with him.

The drive back to your apartment was too quiet but you couldn’t listen to the radio because the songs he would have hummed to would only make you miss him more. It always took days, weeks even, to reacclimate yourself to the loss of his presence when he left. It never got easier but the memories made were worth it.

The days dragged by as classes began again and the repetitive routine of life was reestablished. Finally it was the weekend and you could curl up on the couch and watch Logan’s practice on F1TV while you were surrounded by paintings of him. There were two new additions that had come back from Miami, one capturing his happiness as he reeled in a bluefish and the other capturing his perfect features as he sunbathed shirtless, that one was purely indulgent.

“Oh no, Sargeant has taken a big shunt into the barriers there.”

Your feet slammed to the floor as you jumped out of your seat and stumbled closer to the tv as if you could reach through it and help, but you were helpless to watch as Logan remained in the car in the middle of the track - red flags waving. 

“Come on, baby, get out of there,” you begged as you heard his radio saying he was okay, but then the back of the car ignited into flame. You were screaming for him to get out as George’s car rolled by, his hands gesturing wildly for Logan to get out too before he finally was free of the seat harness and jumping out over the halo. 

You finally breathed a sigh of relief but it didn’t last as the camera cut to Logan leaning on the barriers, his head hung in defeat despite the helmet hiding his face. You knew your boyfriend better than anyone, you knew exactly what was going on inside his head and you knew you had to do something.

The credit card Logan had given you years ago had been left discarded in the back of your underwear drawer. He said it was for you to use but you had never been with him for the money and even as a broke uni student you hadn’t used it once. But this was an emergency, and if you were ever going to use it then you could be damn sure it was going to be spent on him.

One quick email was sent to your professor begging for an extension due to a family emergency before you packed a bag and booked the first flight out to Amsterdam.

With shaking hands you typed a message: I’m so glad you got out of there, baby. I’m on my way and I love you so much xxx

You knew he wouldn’t be able to reply for a little while since he would have to get back to the team garage, and there would be other responsibilities first like having a medical check and debrief, but you sent it anyway along with the flight numbers so he knew where you would be and when. It was going to be a long day with the 13 hours of flights plus the change in timezone but nothing was going to keep you from getting to Logan before the race tomorrow.

–

A stranger with a whiteboard greeted you at the airport and the exhaustion of the trip faded away when you reached the paddock with a pass in hand and stepped into the Williams garage. Bodies of mechanics moved in sync as they rushed around the car preparing it for the race that was due to start in a few short hours but it was one man that was standing among them that drew you closer. 

“Lo,” you greeted softly behind him on raised tiptoes. 

A wide smile split his face as he turned to embrace you, lifting your feet off the ground as he buried his face in your neck. “Hellow, sweetheart,” he breathed against your skin before inhaling the familiar scent of your perfume. 

Your hands tightened on his waist as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “Are you okay?”

He pulled back and his smile faltered. “I’m better now that you’re here.” 

You reached up to trace the curve of his cheek where his smile had been but his team principal called his name before you could feel the shadow of his beard on your palm. “Can I borrow you for a minute?” he asked Logan before spotting you, a flicker of surprise on his face. “Hello, Y/N, it’s lovely to see you again.”

“You too, James,” you replied politely before stepping out of Logan’s arms and giving him a little nudge in the right direction. “I’ll wait over in hospitality.”

Logan spent what time he could with you, reassured by the feel of your arms wrapped around his neck and your cheek pressed to his as you sat on his lap in the single chair that furnished his driver room. The thin walls did little to dampen the noise of the motorhome and the crowd beyond but for a few minutes Logan could forget it all and the pressure that came with it - until the clock ticked away the precious minutes alone and reality returned.

“I have to score a point today,” he whispered like he was confessing a sin and he tipped his head back to stare at the roof. “No point, no seat. That's the deal.”

“Can they do that with your contract?”

“They can do whatever they want, sweetheart. I’m lucky they let me go this long without contributing.”

You cupped his face and tipped it forward so he was forced to look you in the eyes. “There are more ways to contribute to the team than just scoring points. You spend hours in the simulator every week so they can get their precious data.”

“And then I go and cost them $250k when I crash,” he laughed humorlessly and dropped his forehead to yours. “I think this is it. I’m tired and it’s so hard to enjoy it now. That’s the worst part out of all of it. I used to like my job, it was all I wanted to do.”

Your thumbs caught the tears that clung to his lower lashes. “What do you want now?”

“I honestly have no idea, I just know I want to be wherever you are.”

A knock at the door interrupted the promise you were going to make and someone in a William’s shirt said it was time to head back to the garage before ducking back out of the room.

“I love you” you whispered between the kisses you traced across the bow of his lips. “I want you to go out there today and forget James and points and all that stuff and just enjoy the race. I have watched you give everything to this team but today I want you to be selfish, okay? Enjoy it out there or it’s all for nothing, no matter the outcome. And when you get out of that car I will be waiting for you, arms wide open.”

Logan closed his eyes and exhaled a shuddering breath before he captured your lips in a passionate kiss that left you both breathless. Resolute and proud, he stood up and placed you on his feet before grabbing his cap and slapping it on his head. “I’ll see you at the finish line.”

[reidmarieprentiss]

Point Break

Summary: Part two to Breaking Point. Spencer, reeling from betrayal, seeks solace in you after discovering Eli's infidelity. Overwhelmed by emotions, Spencer acts on impulse and sparks confusion between you and him. As Spencer opens up about the heartache of his broken relationship, you sympathize but you are hesitant, unsure if his feelings are genuine or fueled by vulnerability.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: happy ending!!, implied bisexual Spencer, mentions of cheating, insecurities, mistrust, reader is the nicest person alive for real, the LONG game, roommate Penelope, confrontation with ex

Word count: 13.5k

a/n: hiii sorry this took a while to get out i had to keep taking breaks ,, writers block is a biggg jerk

main masterlist part one

You pulled back after a moment, your breath catching in your throat as your mind struggled to catch up with what had just happened. The shock was written all over your face, and without even thinking, you reached out, pushing Spencer back by his shoulders to put some distance between the two of you. 

"What the hell?" you whispered, your voice wavering with disbelief as you searched his face for some kind of explanation. 

Spencer's eyes were filled with a confusing mix of emotions—pain, desperation, regret. He didn't say anything at first, just stood there, his lips slightly parted as if the words were stuck somewhere deep in his throat. 

"I—I'm sorry," he finally managed to choke out, his voice barely above a whisper. "I—I shouldn’t have done that." 

You blinked, trying to process what had just happened, your mind racing to make sense of it all. This was Spencer—your new friend, your old foe, and, until moments ago, someone you thought was off-limits because of Eli. Now, everything felt upside down, like the ground had shifted beneath you.

"Spencer, what is going on?" you demanded, your voice a little steadier now as you tried to wrap your head around the situation. "You can’t just—kiss me like that. You—you're with Eli!" 

At the mention of Eli, something in Spencer’s expression cracked, the pain in his eyes deepening as his shoulders slumped. He exhaled shakily, running a trembling hand through his hair. "I know… I know," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "But… they’re with someone else." 

Your heart dropped at his words, and you felt your grip on his shoulders loosen as the weight of his revelation settled over you. "What?" you whispered, your confusion giving way to a sudden rush of sympathy. "Spencer, what are you talking about?"

He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the floor as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. "I came home tonight… and they were… with someone else," he said quietly, his voice breaking with the admission. "Shane. The same person you went on a date with."

The room seemed to close in around you as the full impact of his words hit you. You stepped back, your mind reeling from the shock. "Shane?" you repeated, disbelief washing over you. "Are you—are you serious?"

Spencer nodded, his eyes filled with sadness and exhaustion. "Yeah. I walked in and… they didn’t even care. They just told me we’d talk later, like it didn’t even matter."

You stood there, stunned into silence, the weight of everything crashing down all at once. You wanted to say something, anything, to ease his pain, but the words wouldn’t come. All you could do was stare at him, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

Spencer finally looked up, his eyes meeting yours, and you saw the raw vulnerability in his gaze. "I don’t know why I came here," he admitted softly. "I just—I didn’t know where else to go."

Your heart ached for him, torn between the overwhelming urge to comfort him and the confusion swirling inside you. You hadn’t expected any of this—not the kiss, not the revelation about Eli, not the flood of emotions that came with it.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped closer to him again, this time with less hesitation. "Spencer," you said gently, your hands falling away from his shoulders, "I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine how you’re feeling right now."

He looked at you with such vulnerability, like he was on the verge of breaking. "I don’t know what to do," he whispered, his voice so quiet it was almost lost in the stillness of the room.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The tension in the air hung heavy, charged with emotions neither of you had fully processed. You wanted to say something to ease his pain, but you weren’t sure what. Everything about this moment felt messy and complicated.

Finally, you grabbed Spencer again, this time pulling him into a tight hug, your arms wrapping around him with a warmth that you hoped would give him some sense of comfort. His body tensed for a brief moment, but then he melted into the embrace, resting his head against your shoulder. You could feel the weight of everything he was carrying—the hurt, the betrayal, the confusion—and you held him tighter, as if your embrace could somehow take some of that burden off his shoulders.

"Spencer," you murmured into his shoulder, your voice soft but firm, "you can stay here."

He didn’t respond immediately, but you felt him nod slightly against you, his breath uneven, as if he were trying to hold back tears.

"You can sleep on the couch, okay?" you added, pulling back slightly so you could look him in the eyes. His face was so full of emotion—sadness, relief, and maybe a little bit of guilt—but you gave him a reassuring smile. "Come on in. Let’s get you some water."

Spencer blinked, his expression softening as he nodded again. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible, but the gratitude in it was unmistakable.

You led him inside, guiding him to the couch before heading into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. As you filled the glass, you couldn’t help but steal a glance back at him. He looked so vulnerable, sitting there with his head bowed, his hands resting limply in his lap. It was like the weight of everything that had happened had finally caught up to him, and now that he was in a safe space, he was allowing himself to feel it.

Spencer took another sip of water, avoiding your gaze as he processed your words. His face was filled with conflicting emotions, a mix of vulnerability and stubbornness. “Thank you, Y/N,” he said softly, his eyes flicking to yours for just a second before darting away again. “You’re such a nice person.”

You gave him a funny look, the corner of your mouth pulling into a smile despite the weight of the situation. “Of course,” you replied, patting his hand gently. “Don’t even worry about it.”

You paused for a moment, then added, "And we can forget about the kiss too. It’s not a big deal."

At your words, Spencer’s grip tightened around the glass, his expression shifting. He looked down, his voice barely audible as he mumbled, “I don’t want to forget about it.”

The statement hung in the air for a moment, the weight of it making your heart skip a beat. “What?” you asked, your voice coming out more softly than you intended.

“I don’t want to forget about it,” Spencer repeated, a little louder this time, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that caught you off guard.

You blinked, taking a step back mentally as you tried to wrap your head around what he was saying. “Spencer… you’re vulnerable right now. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His expression hardened slightly, his voice steady as he deadpanned, “I’m a grown man, Y/N.”

You laughed awkwardly, trying to diffuse the tension. “Well then, grown man,” you teased lightly, “why don’t you sleep on it and see how you feel in the morning?”

Spencer let out a small, reluctant grumble, but you could tell he was grateful for your kindness, even if he wasn’t ready to admit it. His eyes softened, and he nodded, setting the empty glass down on the table beside him.

“You’re right,” he muttered, his voice low but sincere. “I’ll sleep on it.” He paused, glancing at you with a mix of guilt and gratitude. “I’m sorry for… everything. For treating you the way I did, for being distant. I didn’t deserve your kindness tonight.”

You shook your head, giving him a gentle smile. “Spencer, it’s okay. We’ve all been through tough times. Just… get some rest, okay? We can talk more in the morning.”

Spencer nodded again, and as you stood to grab some blankets for him, you could feel his gaze lingering on you, full of unspoken words. As much as you wanted to make sense of the complicated emotions swirling between you two, you knew tonight wasn’t the time.

You handed him the blankets, and Spencer laid down on the couch, pulling them over himself. The room was quiet now, the tension easing into a comfortable silence.

As you headed to your bedroom, you gave him one last reassuring smile. “Goodnight, Spencer.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replied softly, watching you go, the weight of everything still hanging between you both as the night drew to a close.

—

In the morning, Penelope groggily emerged from her bedroom, her hair a tangled mess as she shuffled down the hall in desperate search of coffee. Her eyes were barely open as she passed by the couch, her brain still half-asleep. She glanced at the figure lying there, not really processing what she was seeing.

But then, after a few more steps, something clicked. She spun around, doing a double take as her eyes landed on the unmistakable form of Spencer Reid, curled up asleep under a blanket. Her groggy mind snapped awake, and she immediately bolted back down the hall, slipping into your room with the grace of a wrecking ball.

Without any warning, she launched herself onto your bed, bouncing on the mattress and causing you to wake with a jolt. "AH!" you screamed, your heart racing as you shot up, eyes wide with panic. "Penelope, what the hell?!"

The commotion had stirred Spencer as well. He groaned softly, sitting up on the couch, disoriented and trying to piece together where he was and how he’d ended up there.

Penelope, still perched on your bed, gave you an incredulous look as she shook your shoulders with excitement. "Why is Spencer Reid asleep on our couch??" she asked, her voice an urgent whisper, but her eyes were wide with curiosity and glee.

Spencer, now fully awake, froze in place on the couch. His heart thudded in his chest as he remembered exactly why he was there, the events of the previous night flashing through his mind. He held his breath, wondering how much you were going to tell Penelope. The thought of your conversation, the kiss, everything—it made his stomach twist with anxiety.

You let out a sigh, quickly composing yourself as you tried to come up with something believable. "He… he forgot his phone at the party last night," you said, your voice calm despite the panic running through your veins. "We got to talking when he came back to get it, and then it was so late I just told him he should stay." You were impressed with how smoothly the lie rolled off your tongue.

Spencer’s body relaxed slightly, immense gratitude washing over him as he realized you weren’t going to throw him under the bus. You had just saved him from an awkward explanation, and once again, he found himself in awe of your endless kindness. He didn’t feel like he deserved it.

Penelope blinked, processing your explanation. Then, much to your relief, she burst into laughter. "Oh, that sounds exactly like something Spencer would do!" She winked at you, hopefully buying your story, before adding with a teasing grin, "Should’ve asked him to sleep in here with you though!"

You rolled your eyes, your face flushing as you laughed nervously. "Very funny, Pen."

Penelope gave your leg a playful pat before hopping off the bed. "Alright, come on, let’s go make some coffee." She didn’t seem the least bit phased by Spencer’s unexpected presence, her usual bubbly energy returning as she bounced out of your room and headed toward the kitchen.

You threw the blanket off and followed Penelope down the hall, glancing over at Spencer, who still looked a little dazed but relieved. As you passed him, you gave him a small, reassuring smile, grateful that the situation had smoothed over with Penelope none the wiser.

Spencer smiled back, the tension in his chest loosening as he watched you go.

After the pot had been filled and Penelope had happily clutched her mug, she gave you a quick hug and cheerfully bid you adieu, mentioning her lunch plans with Hotch and Jack. With her gone, the apartment seemed quieter, and the sunlight filtering through the kitchen windows cast a warm, golden glow over everything.

You and Spencer sat across from each other at the small kitchen table, mugs of steaming coffee in hand. The soft morning light made everything feel calm and serene, but in Spencer’s eyes, it was you who seemed to glow. The sunlight danced across your skin, making you look absolutely beautiful in his eyes, and for a moment, he couldn’t tear his gaze away.

“How did you sleep?” you asked softly, breaking the silence. Your voice was gentle, and the concern in your eyes made Spencer’s chest tighten.

He stirred his coffee slowly, as if giving himself a moment to gather his thoughts. "Fine," he replied, though his voice was hesitant. "Thank you… for everything. I can go, really. You’ve already done too much, and I’m probably overstaying my welcome."

"Spencer," you laughed lightly, shaking your head, "slow down. You don’t have to go anywhere until you’re ready. You’re not overstaying at all. Please, relax."

Spencer let out a long, deep sigh, the weight of everything still heavy on his shoulders. His fingers wrapped around his mug, seeking comfort in its warmth. When he finally looked up at you, his brown eyes were soft, filled with a vulnerability that tugged at your heart. "Why are you so nice?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked at you with those big, puppy-dog eyes, confusion and gratitude swirling in them.

You smiled at him, a soft, tender smile that made his heart swell. "I can’t think of any reason not to be nice to you," you replied, your voice sincere and warm.

For a moment, Spencer didn’t know what to say. Your kindness, your ability to offer him understanding and comfort even after everything—it left him speechless. He felt like he didn’t deserve it, not after everything that had happened, not after the mess he had made of his own life. But here you were, sitting across from him, offering him solace and a place to breathe.

He blinked, trying to keep the sudden rush of emotion from overtaking him. "I don’t deserve you," he whispered, almost to himself. But you heard him, and without missing a beat, you reached across the table, placing your hand over his.

"You deserve to be cared for, Spencer. Don’t think for a second that you don’t."

Spencer looked down at your hand covering his, the warmth of your touch seeping into him, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a little less alone.

After Penelope left, you felt a sense of relief, knowing that she had caught on to the fact that something was going on with Spencer, but she hadn’t pressed you about it. She was giving you space, trusting you to share when the time was right. You told her Spencer would probably hang out for the day, mentioning how you two had talked about watching some movies together. It was a simple excuse, but she didn’t question it—she knew you’d open up when you were ready.

Once you were truly alone, the apartment quiet and peaceful, you turned to Spencer with a gentle smile. "If you want, you can take a shower," you offered, keeping your tone light. "I have some clothes that might fit you—my brother left some here when he last visited."

Spencer hesitated for a moment, as if the simple act of accepting your hospitality was somehow a burden, but then he nodded, grateful. "That sounds nice, thank you."

You showed him to the bathroom, giving him a fresh towel and the clothes. When Spencer disappeared behind the door, you could hear the faint sound of the water turning on. You used the time to freshen up yourself, wanting to wash away the remnants of the emotional night. By the time Spencer reappeared, freshly showered and dressed in your brother’s clothes, there was a slight shift in his demeanor—he looked calmer, maybe even lighter, though there was still a cloud hanging over him.

The two of you settled in the living room, sitting comfortably on the couch. The air was peaceful, and for a moment, it was easy to forget the chaos of the night before. But there was still something unspoken between you, something that Spencer needed to get off his chest.

You glanced at him, his eyes downcast as he sipped more of the coffee you’d made earlier. His fingers tapped absentmindedly against the mug, a small tell of the tension still lingering within him.

"Spencer," you said softly, your voice pulling him from his thoughts. "Maybe we should talk about… everything that’s going on. I mean, if you’re ready."

He sighed deeply, setting the mug down on the coffee table, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of everything was too much to carry anymore. "I don’t even know where to start," he admitted, his voice low, almost defeated.

"Start wherever you feel comfortable," you encouraged, your tone gentle but steady. "I’m here to listen."

Spencer took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. He glanced at you, eyes filled with a mix of exhaustion and gratitude, and then he began to speak.

"It’s just… everything feels like it’s falling apart," he started, his voice shaking slightly. "Eli, the relationship, it hasn’t been good for a while. But I kept convincing myself it would get better. I kept thinking that if I just tried harder, if I just did more, then maybe things would go back to the way they were when we first started."

You listened quietly, not interrupting, giving him the space to get everything out. You could see how hard it was for him to admit these things, how much he had been holding in.

"But it didn’t get better," he continued, his hands clenching slightly. "It just got worse. They would get angry over small things, blame me for everything that went wrong. I started feeling like… like I wasn’t enough. Like no matter what I did, I couldn’t make them happy."

The pain in his voice was palpable, and it made your heart ache for him. You had known something was wrong, but hearing it laid out like this was devastating.

"And then last night," Spencer’s voice cracked as he mentioned it. "Walking in and seeing them with someone else… I don’t even know how to process it. Part of me knew, deep down, that something was going on, but I didn’t want to face it. I didn’t want to believe it."

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with unshed tears. "I don’t know what to do, Y/N. I feel so lost."

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm, grounding him in that moment. "I’m so sorry, Spencer," you whispered, your voice thick with empathy. "You don’t deserve any of this."

Spencer closed his eyes for a moment, letting your words wash over him. When he opened them again, there was a vulnerability in his gaze that cut right through you. His face was a mix of emotions, the kind of internal storm that you could almost feel radiating from him. 

"I feel like such a terrible person," he confessed quietly, the weight of the words heavy on his tongue.

His admission caught you off guard. You furrowed your brow, tilting your head slightly as you asked, "Wait, why do you feel like a terrible person?"

Spencer sighed deeply, his gaze dropping to the table for a moment before he looked back up at you. "I was upset—angry, when I caught them, of course. But then… I just stopped caring," he admitted, his voice filled with a mixture of sadness and relief. "The more I think about it, the less I care that my relationship is over, and the angrier I feel that I let it go on for so long."

You nodded slowly, understanding the conflict he was feeling, the emotional exhaustion that came with being stuck in a toxic relationship for too long. You stayed quiet, giving him the space to continue.

"And then," Spencer continued, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant, "the only thing I could think about was coming back here. To see you." He paused, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort, his vulnerability exposed. "I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, and I can leave if you want, but I need to tell you this."

Your heart sped up, your breath catching in your throat as he looked deep into your eyes. There was something raw in his gaze, something that made your pulse quicken in anticipation of what he was about to say.

"I just wanted to see you," Spencer admitted, his voice trembling slightly. "You are the only person, the only thing, that has made me feel something in so long. You’re absolutely gorgeous, inside and out, and—and I hated going home to Eli every time after I would see you."

His confession hung in the air between you, thick with unspoken emotions. You could see the honesty in his eyes, the way he had been carrying these feelings for a long time but had kept them buried. There was no denying the intensity of his words, the rawness in the way he expressed how much you meant to him.

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. You had always felt something for Spencer—maybe even more than you had allowed yourself to admit—but hearing him say those things, hearing him admit that you were the reason he kept going, left you speechless. 

"Spencer…" you finally whispered, your voice soft and full of emotion, but you couldn’t find the words to follow up. You were stunned, your heart fluttering in your chest as you processed what he had just told you.

Spencer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his hands fidgeting in his lap as he continued. "Eli even told me to stop talking to you, made it a rule that you were off limits. Friends, not friends—it didn’t matter. They knew before I did." He looked down for a moment, clearly still grappling with the weight of his own realizations.

You sat there, still speechless, trying to absorb everything he was saying. The room felt heavier, the air thick with the tension between you two, but you couldn’t bring yourself to interrupt. You could see that he was struggling, and something in you told you to let him continue.

"When Eli and I first started dating, and you came into Penelope’s life, I thought you were cute," Spencer admitted, his voice soft but laced with honesty. "I guess Eli saw you as a threat. Always. That’s... that’s why I couldn’t talk to you. I thought you would be the downfall of my relationship."

He paused, letting his words sink in. The tension in his voice, the vulnerability in his expression—it was all so much for you to take in at once. You had noticed the distance between you and Spencer over the months, but you had never imagined that it was intentional, that someone else had been pulling him away.

"But..." Spencer continued, his voice a little stronger now, though still filled with emotion, "I think you actually saved it. Or maybe—" He paused again, gathering his thoughts. "Maybe you saved me from it."

That last sentence seemed to hang in the air, heavier than anything else he’d said so far. His eyes searched yours, trying to gauge your reaction. He looked so lost, so unsure of himself, and all you wanted to do was reach across the table and take his hand, to let him know he wasn’t alone in this.

Your mind raced as you processed his words. Spencer, sweet, kind Spencer, had been trapped in a relationship that drained him, and you—without even knowing it—had been the light that pulled him out. It was overwhelming, hearing that you had made such an impact on someone you cared about, especially someone like Spencer.

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice, your mind still reeling from everything he had just laid out in front of you. "Spencer... I had no idea," you said softly, your voice finally breaking the silence. "I’m... I’m so sorry that you had to go through all of that."

He shook his head, giving you a small, almost sad smile. "It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, you were just... you. And that’s what made me realize that I deserved more. That I deserve to feel something real."

His words hit you hard, and you felt your heart swell with emotion. Spencer was laying everything bare, and it was clear that he had been carrying these feelings for a long time. 

"You do deserve more, Spencer," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "You deserve to be happy, to be with someone who makes you feel... everything."

Spencer looked at you, his gaze soft but filled with intensity. "That’s what I want, Y/N," he said quietly. "I want to feel everything. With you." 

You sat there, staring into his eyes, the weight of his confession settling into your chest. Everything between you felt charged, like the world had shifted in those few moments, and you were left wondering where you would go from here. 

"Spencer..." you sighed again, your voice soft but filled with a mix of emotions. You could see the way his shoulders slumped slightly, the self-doubt creeping into his expression, and it broke your heart a little.

He nodded, already bracing himself for the rejection he assumed was coming. "You don’t feel the same," he stated, his voice low and bitter, the words heavy as if they physically weighed him down. He couldn’t even meet your eyes, his gaze fixed on the table between you.

"I–I..." you stuttered, searching for the right words, but none seemed to come. How could you explain everything you were feeling when you hadn’t even fully processed it yourself? You cared about Spencer, of course you did. He had always been kind, even if not to you, brilliant, and yes, incredibly attractive. But this—this sudden confession of feelings—it was a lot to take in all at once. 

Spencer had only recently begun to treat you like a real friend, and you had cherished those moments, the playful banter, the shared laughs. And now, he was telling you that he thought of you even while he was with Eli, that you were the only thing keeping him afloat during a time when his relationship was sinking. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

"Spencer," you tried again, your voice soft but steady this time. "I just... this is a lot. You just got out of something really painful, and now you're telling me all of this, and I—"

"I know," he cut you off, his voice thick with frustration, though not at you. "I know it’s a lot. But I need you to understand—I wasn’t with Eli for a long time, not really. We were just... coexisting. I thought I had to make it work, but the truth is, I didn’t care anymore. And then I realized the only person I did care about was you."

His words hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of them pressing down on you. This was real for Spencer, but you were still trying to wrap your head around it all.

You ran a hand through your hair, exhaling deeply. "Spencer, I don’t know what to say. I care about you, I do, but you’ve just been through something so heavy. I don’t want to be the rebound. I don’t want to be the person you turn to because you’re hurt and looking for comfort. That’s not fair to either of us."

Spencer’s face fell slightly, though he didn’t look angry—just disappointed, in himself more than anything. "You’re not a rebound," he said quietly, shaking his head. "You’re... you’re so much more than that. I didn’t mean to put this all on you right now. I just..." He trailed off, clearly unsure how to explain what he was feeling without overwhelming you further.

You reached across the table, placing a hand gently on top of his. "I know you’re hurting, and I know you’ve had a rough time. But maybe... maybe we should just take a step back and give this some space to breathe. You need time to heal, and I need time to process all of this."

Spencer nodded, though you could see the sadness in his eyes. "Yeah, maybe you’re right," he admitted, though it was clear that the thought of pulling back hurt him. "I don’t want to lose you, Y/N."

"You’re not going to lose me, Spencer," you said softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "But let’s just put this on pause and think about it, okay? Let’s not rush into anything."

He let out a small, defeated sigh but nodded in agreement. "Okay," he accepted, though the sadness in his voice was still there.

You sat there together, the tension slowly dissipating as the reality of the situation settled between you. Spencer had opened up to you in a way you hadn’t expected, and while the future was uncertain, you knew that whatever came next, you would face it together—slowly, carefully, and with the respect and care both of you deserved.

—

Spencer left later that day after actually watching a movie, feeling slightly more grounded but knowing he couldn’t avoid the inevitable conversation with Eli any longer. As much as he dreaded it, they needed to figure out their living situation and how to move forward, even if it meant parting ways.

When Spencer got home, the apartment was eerily quiet. Shane was gone—probably for good, Spencer thought with a bitter sense of relief. He stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the space that once felt like home but now seemed like a stranger's. With a deep breath, he made his way to the living room.

Eli was sitting on the couch, completely engrossed in football recaps. Spencer couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the familiar scene, feeling the anger bubbling up inside him once again. How could they just sit there, watching TV, as if nothing had happened? As if their whole relationship hadn’t crumbled the moment Spencer walked in on them with someone else?

He cleared his throat loudly, trying to get Eli’s attention. For a brief second, Eli glanced up at him, gave a half-hearted pat on the cushion next to them, and then turned their attention right back to the screen.

Spencer’s patience snapped. Without thinking, he reached for the remote and turned off the TV completely, the silence in the room now deafening.

“What the fuck, Spencer?” Eli snapped, their voice sharp, clearly irritated by the interruption.

Spencer stood there, his chest heaving as he tried to control the anger that was threatening to consume him. "What the fuck, me?" Spencer repeated incredulously, his voice filled with disbelief. "You really think you can just sit here, watch football, and pretend like nothing happened?"

Eli sighed dramatically, rolling their eyes as if Spencer was being unreasonable. "Oh, come on, Spencer. We both know things weren’t exactly great between us. You just walked in at the wrong time, that’s all."

"The wrong time?" Spencer echoed, his voice rising. "I walked in on you having sex with someone else in our bed! How is that the ‘wrong time’? You cheated on me, Eli. Multiple times, apparently!"

Eli didn’t even flinch at the accusation. Instead, they shrugged, looking completely unfazed. "Yeah, well, it’s not like you were completely innocent either," they shot back. "You were always spending time with your friends, especially Y/N."

Spencer’s eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you seriously trying to turn this around on me? I wasn’t the one sneaking around behind your back. And Y/N? We’ve barely even spoken outside of group outings."

"Please," Eli scoffed. "I’m not stupid. You’ve had a thing for her from the start. It was obvious to anyone with eyes. You were like a puppy with a bone, I’m sure you’ve slept with her plenty."

Spencer felt the breath leave his lungs. For a moment, he was stunned into silence, his mind racing with everything Eli had just said. It was true that he had feelings for you, feelings he hadn’t fully acknowledged until recently. But he never acted on them—he had been loyal, even when things between him and Eli were falling apart.

"I never cheated on you," Spencer said quietly, his voice raw with emotion. "I respected our relationship, even when you didn’t. But I can’t do this anymore, Eli. I can’t stay here, pretending everything is fine when it’s not."

Eli rolled their eyes again, clearly bored with the conversation. "Fine. Whatever, Spencer. If you want to leave, then leave. I’ll find a way to cover the rent without you."

Spencer shook his head, the anger quickly giving way to a deep, aching sadness. He had fought so hard to make this relationship work, but it was clear now that Eli had stopped caring a long time ago.

"I’ll pack my things," Spencer said quietly, turning away from Eli and heading toward the bedroom.

As he walked down the hallway, he felt an overwhelming sense of relief. For the first time in what felt like forever, he was free. Free from the toxic cycle he had been trapped in, free from Eli’s manipulations, and free to finally move on.

And as he started packing his belongings, his thoughts drifted to you. You, who had been kind to him when he didn’t deserve it. You, who had made him laugh and feel alive again. Maybe, just maybe, there was something better waiting for him on the other side of all this if he hadn’t ruined his chances by basically throwing himself at you.

Spencer didn’t want to impose on you and Penelope again after everything that had happened, especially not with how raw his emotions still were. So, after packing up his things and leaving Eli’s apartment, he made his way to Derek’s place. Derek had always been someone Spencer could turn to in times of trouble, and right now, he needed the stability of a friend who wouldn’t judge him or make things more complicated than they already were.

When Spencer arrived at Derek’s front door, suitcase in hand, Derek took one look at him and knew something had gone terribly wrong. Without saying a word, Derek opened the door wider, gesturing for Spencer to come inside. They sat down on Derek's couch, Spencer staring at the floor for a few moments, unsure of where to even begin.

“Alright, pretty boy,” Derek finally said, breaking the silence. “What happened?”

Spencer let out a long, weary sigh, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He told Derek everything—the cheating, the confrontation, and the end of his relationship with Eli. As the words spilled out of him, Spencer felt the weight of it all settle deeper on his shoulders. When he was finished, he glanced up at Derek, half expecting to see pity in his friend’s eyes.

But Derek’s expression wasn’t one of pity—it was pure, unfiltered anger.

“They did what?” Derek growled, his fists clenching as he stood up from the couch, pacing back and forth. “Man, I swear to God, I’m gonna kick Eli’s ass. No one gets to treat you like that.”

Spencer quickly stood up, placing a hand on Derek’s arm to stop him from storming out the door. “Derek, no, please. It’s over. I don’t want to make things worse. It’s not worth it.”

Derek stopped pacing, but the anger still simmered beneath the surface. He shook his head, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I just can’t believe they did that to you, man. You didn’t deserve that. No one does.”

Spencer nodded, his eyes dropping to the floor again. “I know. But it’s done now. I just… I don’t know what to do next.”

Derek softened, his anger giving way to concern as he looked at his friend. “You’re staying here, that’s what you’re doing. Don’t even think about going back to that place.”

Spencer gave a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Derek. I really appreciate it.”

Derek pulled Spencer into a quick hug, patting his back before pulling away. “Anytime, pretty boy. You know that.”

The two sat back down, the tension easing slightly now that Spencer knew he had somewhere safe to stay. But there was still something else weighing on Spencer’s mind, something he hadn’t fully processed yet.

“There’s… there’s more,” Spencer said hesitantly, glancing at Derek, unsure of how to explain the next part.

Derek raised an eyebrow, giving him a knowing look. “More? What else happened?”

Spencer shifted uncomfortably on the couch, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to find the right words. “It’s about Y/N. I, uh, I went to her place last night after everything with Eli. I didn’t know where else to go.”

Derek’s expression softened, his tone turning more curious than concerned. “And?”

Spencer let out a long breath, feeling the tension build in his chest again. “I kissed her. I didn’t mean to, it just… happened. I was upset, and she was there, and I just—" He trailed off, unsure of how to explain the rest.

Derek stared at Spencer for a moment, his lips pursing before he responded. “You kissed Y/N? Out of the blue?”

Spencer nodded, feeling the guilt creep up again. “Yeah. She pulled back almost immediately, and then I stayed the night on her couch. Nothing else happened. But now… I don’t know what to do. I told her how I felt about her, but I don’t think she feels the same way.”

Derek leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms as he took in everything Spencer had just said. “Let me get this straight. You’ve been harboring feelings for Y/N for who knows how long, your relationship with Eli is finally over, and now you think Y/N doesn’t feel the same because she didn’t immediately jump into your arms?”

Spencer winced at how blunt Derek put it, but he nodded. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Derek let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Spencer, man, you’ve been through hell and back in the last 24 hours. She probably just doesn’t want to be a rebound, you know? You’ve got a lot going on right now. If she’s the person I think she is, she’s probably just giving you some space to process everything.”

Spencer tilted his head, considering Derek’s words. “You think so?”

Derek nodded confidently. “Yeah, man. I know Y/N. She’s not gonna throw you away over one kiss. She’s probably just waiting for you to figure out your own head. You can’t blame her for that.”

Spencer sighed, feeling a small sense of relief wash over him. “I guess you’re right. It’s just… I don’t want to mess things up with her.”

“You’re not gonna mess anything up,” Derek assured him, placing a firm hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Just take your time. Don’t rush into anything. You’ve got a lot to figure out, but Y/N’s not going anywhere. Trust me.”

Spencer nodded slowly, letting Derek’s advice sink in. He didn’t know what the future held with you, but for the first time in a while, he felt like maybe—just maybe—there was hope for something better.

“Thanks, Derek,” Spencer said, offering a small smile. “I really needed to hear that.”

“Anytime, man,” Derek grinned. “Now, let’s go grab some food and forget about Eli for a while. You’ve earned a break.”

Spencer smiled, feeling lighter as he followed Derek out the door. For the first time in a long time, he felt like things were finally starting to fall into place.

—

Across town, things felt like they were spinning out of control. You paced your bedroom floor, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. Your mind was a storm of thoughts, swirling around faster than you could keep up with. Spencer’s sudden confession had thrown you for a loop, and you knew the moment Penelope walked through the front door, she would ask you about it—she would definitely ask.

But you didn’t know if it was your place to tell her. A lot of what happened had to do with Spencer’s personal business. Plus, how could you explain the confusion, the emotions you were still trying to untangle in your own head? So, instead of facing the inevitable questions, you locked yourself in your room, hoping to find some clarity in the quiet.

Spencer was vulnerable. That much was obvious. He was hurt, mistreated, and confused—dealing with the fallout of a relationship that had crumbled around him. But at the same time, Spencer was brilliant, kind, funny, and wonderful in so many ways. And now, you were left wondering: did he really have feelings for you, or was this all just because of his emotional state?

The question you kept circling back to was one that made your heart sink. Am I just a rebound? The thought twisted in your chest, a painful knot of uncertainty.

Spencer was vulnerable right now, too vulnerable to really understand what he wanted, right? How could he guarantee he wouldn’t change his mind once the dust settled? That was the part that worried you the most. You didn’t want to be someone’s second choice, their consolation prize after a heartbreak. And while you cared about Spencer deeply, you also cared about yourself.

You stopped pacing, letting out a long breath. That’s it, you thought, feeling a small wave of relief wash over you as a clear decision came into focus. If anything was going to happen between you and Spencer, it couldn’t be right now. He needed time—to heal, to process everything. You both did.

You would have to wait until you saw him again to tell him this, to explain how you felt. It was the only way to protect yourself and give Spencer the space he needed to figure out his own heart.

But until then, you would keep your distance. You owed it to yourself, and to Spencer, to not rush into something that might not be real. You just hoped, when the time came to talk, that he would understand.

You sat down on the edge of your bed, your mind still racing but at least now, with a sense of direction. You would wait. It was the only way to make sure neither of you got hurt.

—

Spencer had spent the entire week on edge, waiting for Penelope to bring up what had happened between him and you. He figured you would have told her by now, but every time he saw Penelope, she acted completely normal, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. It was driving him crazy, the waiting, the anticipation. By Friday, he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to know.

As the workday came to a close, Spencer found himself standing at Penelope’s desk, awkwardly fidgeting with his hands. He hesitated for a moment before finally blurting out, “Hey, um, have you talked to Y/N this week?”

Penelope looked up from her screen, tilting her head in confusion. “Y/N?” she repeated, blinking. “Why do you ask?”

Spencer felt a knot form in his stomach. “Uh, no reason, really. I just—” He trailed off, suddenly unsure of how to continue. He hadn’t expected this. He had thought Penelope would know everything by now.

Penelope raised an eyebrow, sensing there was more to his question than he was letting on. “Spencer,” she said slowly, leaning back in her chair, “what’s going on?”

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to find the right words. “It’s just… I thought Y/N might have mentioned something to you. About, well, about me staying at your place.”

Penelope’s confusion deepened, and she furrowed her brow. “Oh! I mean, yeah, she mentioned you forgot your phone and then stayed the night because it was late.” She gave him a curious look, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Why? Did something else happen?”

Spencer’s heart pounded in his chest as he realized you hadn’t told her the whole truth. Of course you hadn’t. You were protecting him, just like you always did. He felt a wave of guilt wash over him. You were giving him the space to figure things out, and here he was, getting impatient, assuming the worst.

He cleared his throat, trying to play it off. “No, no, nothing happened. I was just wondering, that’s all.” His voice sounded too forced, even to him.

Penelope’s eyes softened, and she gave him a knowing smile. “Spencer, if something’s on your mind, you can talk to me. You know that, right?”

Spencer offered her a tight-lipped smile in return, nodding. “Yeah, I know. Thanks, Pen.”

But as he walked away, his mind was spinning. You hadn’t told her. That meant you were still thinking things through, maybe even waiting to talk to him. Maybe this wasn’t over. The thought filled him with equal parts hope and anxiety. He knew he’d have to be patient, but the waiting was already killing him.

The only thing he could do now was wait for you to make the next move.

—

The moment Penelope sent you the text, telling you she was hosting a game night with the team, your heart skipped a beat. You knew Spencer would be there—it was practically guaranteed. The very thought of seeing him again made your stomach twist with a mix of nerves and something you couldn’t quite place. But instead of jumping at the opportunity, you felt the overwhelming urge to avoid it. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see Spencer, it was that you weren’t ready to have that conversation in front of everyone, not when there were still so many thoughts swirling around in your head.

You texted Penelope back, fingers hovering over the keys as you tried to come up with the perfect excuse. Finally, you settled on something simple.

Hey, feeling a bit under the weather. I think I'm just gonna stay in my room tonight. Please don't tell anyone I'm home, I just need some quiet time. Hope you have fun!

You knew how Penelope and the rest of the team were. If they knew you were home, they'd come barging in with concern or their usual boisterous energy, and you simply weren’t in the mood to deal with all of that tonight. You wanted peace, just some time to yourself.

Thankfully, Penelope didn’t question it. She sent back a short text, filled with lots of hearts and well-wishes, respecting your request. With that small relief, you tucked yourself deeper into the blankets and let out a soft sigh.

For most of the night, you were able to sit quietly in your bedroom, the dim glow of your laptop illuminating the darkened space as the low hum of a movie filled the silence. It wasn’t quite the escape you were hoping for—your mind kept wandering back to Spencer, to the weight of his confession, and the way you weren’t entirely sure how to feel about it.

But then you heard a soft knock on your bedroom door—so quiet you almost thought you imagined it. You froze, holding your breath, hoping whoever it was would go away. But then, you heard a familiar voice, barely above a whisper.

“Y/N?”

You sighed, knowing you couldn’t avoid him any longer. “Come in,” you said softly, bracing yourself for the conversation you had been putting off.

The door creaked open slowly, and Spencer’s head peeked into the room, his eyes scanning the space until they landed on you, bundled up in bed. His face softened when he saw you, and he let out a quiet breath, almost as if he’d been holding it in the entire time.

“Hi,” he greeted, his voice gentle.

“Hey,” you replied, your tone equally soft. You shifted slightly in bed, making room for him to sit if he wanted to. “How did you know I was here?”

“I saw your keys by the door,” he explained, stepping into the room a bit more, but still lingering by the entrance.

You raised an eyebrow, confused. “How do you know which keys are mine?”

A small smile tugged at Spencer’s lips. “They have your favorite color on them.”

His answer caught you off guard, and you couldn’t help but ask, “How do you know my favorite color?”

Spencer shifted, a little awkwardly, as if the answer was so obvious that he was embarrassed. “I pay attention,” he said, his voice quieter than before. “I always have.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was thick, filled with the weight of everything unsaid between you. Spencer, with his shy, awkward demeanor, stood there in the doorway, looking like he wanted to say a thousand things but couldn’t quite find the words.

You weren’t sure how to feel about his response. It was sweet, the kind of small detail that someone who truly cared about you would notice. But it also reminded you of everything that had happened between him and Eli—the complicated mess you were both now tangled in.

Finally, you broke the silence. “Spencer,” you began, your voice careful and measured, “we need to talk.”

He nodded, stepping further into the room and taking a seat at the edge of your bed. “I know,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours. “I’ve been thinking about what you said… and about everything that’s happened.”

You nodded, encouraging him to continue. Your heart was beating a little faster now, but you stayed still, waiting for him to say what he needed to.

“I don’t want to overwhelm you or make things complicated,” he began, his hands fidgeting nervously in his lap. “But I just… I can’t stop thinking about how I feel when I’m around you. And I know it’s messy right now, but I don’t want to lose that.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. You had been so focused on making sure you weren’t just a rebound, that you hadn’t stopped to think about how Spencer might feel—about how genuine his emotions might be, even in the middle of all the chaos.

“Spencer, I… I understand where you’re coming from, but you just ended things with Eli. You’re still processing all of that,” you said gently, trying to tread carefully. “I don’t want you to make decisions about us when you’re feeling vulnerable. You need time to figure things out.”

He looked down, nodding, clearly understanding your point. “I know, you’re right. I just—" He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I just don’t want to lose you before I even get a chance to really show you how much you mean to me.”

Your heart ached at his words, and you wanted to reach out to him, to tell him that he didn’t have to rush, that you weren’t going anywhere. But you knew that both of you needed time—time to heal, time to think, time to figure out what this all meant.

“I’m not going anywhere, Spencer,” you reassured him, your voice steady but soft. “But I think it’s important for you to take some time to process everything. You need to heal from what happened with Eli, and I need to make sure we’re both in the right place before we explore anything.”

He nodded again, though you could see the sadness in his eyes. “I understand,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’ll give you space. I just… I needed you to know how I feel.”

You smiled at him, feeling a wave of affection for the man sitting in front of you. He was hurting, confused, but still trying to navigate everything with the same care and thoughtfulness that had always made him so special.

“Thank you for telling me,” you said, your voice warm. “And when you’re ready—really ready—we can talk about this again.”

Spencer gave you a small, grateful smile, the weight of the conversation lifting just a little. “Okay,” he agreed softly. “I’ll be patient.”

With that, he stood, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he were trying to savor the last few moments before he had to leave. “I’ll let you rest,” he said, turning toward the door.

But just before he stepped out, he paused, glancing back at you. “I really do pay attention, Y/N,” he said quietly. “I always have.”

And with that, he left, closing the door gently behind him.

You lay there for a moment, processing everything that had just happened. It was clear that Spencer’s feelings for you were real, but it was also clear that things needed time. You couldn’t rush into something that had the potential to hurt both of you, no matter how much you might want to.

But as you settled back into your bed, you couldn’t help but feel a small flicker of hope. Spencer was patient, kind, and thoughtful. And maybe, just maybe, when the time was right, there could be something more between you two.

But for now, you both had to wait.

—

It had been a month since you’d seen Spencer. You’d managed to carefully avoid any events, hangouts, or places where you knew he might be. Spencer had finally told the team about him and Eli, and even confided in Penelope about what happened between the two of you. 

Now that Penelope knew, you were free to discuss it openly with her, which had been a relief. You needed your best friend's advice, and she never failed to listen and offer her support. 

One afternoon, Penelope came home in her usual upbeat fashion, practically bouncing through the door as she called out, “Oh, honey! I’m home!”

You laughed from your spot at the kitchen counter, where you were cutting carrots for dinner. "In the kitchen, dear!" you called back, trying to match her playful tone.

Moments later, Penelope appeared, wrapping her arms around you from behind and swaying you gently, her vibrant energy contagious. "Guess which genius is having a housewarming party and specifically requested your attendance," she said, her voice dripping with excitement.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you tried to play it off casually. You didn’t want to seem too affected by the news, even though you knew exactly who she was talking about. "Hmm… I don’t know, Pen, Jack Hotchner?" you joked, turning your head slightly to give her a teasing smile.

Penelope giggled and let go of you, moving to lean against the counter, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh please, as adorable as Jack is, I don’t think his juice box parties are quite this exciting. Nope, it’s our genius—Spencer Reid." 

The mention of his name sent a small jolt through you. It had been a while since you'd heard anyone talk about him directly to you, and hearing it now made everything feel more real again. You swallowed, trying to keep your cool as you put the knife down and turned to face her.

"He... specifically requested me?" you asked cautiously, unsure of how to feel about that.

Penelope nodded, giving you a knowing smile. "Yep! He made sure to tell me that you should come. You know how rare it is for him to throw a party at all, so this is kind of a big deal." 

You bit your lip, thoughts swirling as you considered your options. You weren’t sure if you were ready to face Spencer yet. After all, the last time you saw him, he had confessed feelings you still didn’t know how to handle.

But Penelope, ever the supportive friend, saw the hesitation in your eyes. "You don’t have to decide right this second," she said softly, her playful tone turning gentle. "But… it might be good to see him. Just to clear the air, you know?"

You nodded slowly, not sure if you were ready to take that step yet. "Yeah... maybe," you murmured, your heart still racing at the thought.

You knew deep down that you couldn’t avoid Spencer forever. The thought of seeing him again made your stomach churn with a mix of nerves and excitement, but if he was specifically asking for you, then how could you say no? Still, doubt lingered. What if the time apart had given him the clarity you were worried about? What if he didn’t feel the same way anymore?

Those anxious thoughts accompanied you as you and Penelope decided to spend the afternoon shopping, hoping the distraction would calm your mind. Penelope was clearly enjoying herself, bouncing around from store to store with a contagious energy. 

As she pulled something off the rack, she grinned widely. "This is it!" she declared, holding it up for you to see. 

You raised an eyebrow, studying it. "You think so?"

Penelope nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely! It’s perfect—it’s got your name written all over it. Trust me, you’ll knock everyone off their feet."

You weren’t entirely convinced. "It’s not too much?"

"Are you kidding? It’s just the right amount of everything. And besides," she added with a wink, "you need to make an impression. He won’t know what hit him."

You blushed at the thought, slipping into a dressing room to try it on. As you adjusted, you could hear Penelope’s voice through the door.

"Don’t overthink it, honey. Just remember: you’re amazing. Spencer needs to realize what he’s been missing."

When you finally stepped out, Penelope’s jaw dropped in exaggerated fashion, her eyes wide. "Oh my god," she gasped. "This is it. No contest."

You glanced at your reflection, feeling a flutter of self-assurance. Maybe she was right. Maybe this was the push you needed. "Okay, okay... I think you might be onto something."

"Of course I am!" Penelope grinned, spinning you around so you could get a full view from every angle. "Now, let’s keep going. We’re not done yet!"

The rest of the shopping trip was filled with laughter and banter. Penelope held up different items, trying to get a reaction out of you, while you playfully batted her hand away, insisting that she was going too far. Still, it felt good to be with her, to let the worry melt away in the moment.

As you browsed more, you found yourself voicing the nagging thoughts that had been sitting heavy in your chest all day. "What if he’s changed his mind?" you asked, keeping your tone light but feeling the weight of the question.

Penelope stopped what she was doing, turning to face you seriously. "Listen to me," she said, her tone soft but firm. "If Spencer has any sense, he’ll know exactly how incredible you are. And if he doesn’t, then he’s the one missing out. You’ve got nothing to prove to anyone."

You nodded, trying to let her words settle into your bones. "I guess... it’s just scary, you know?"

"I know," Penelope replied gently. "But no matter what, I’ve got your back. Now let’s finish this day off right. There’s still something special we need to pick up."

The final stop of the day had you both carefully considering your options. Penelope tossed out a few playful suggestions, making you laugh, but eventually, you found just the right thing.

"Perfect," Penelope said with a satisfied smile as she handed it to the cashier. "It’s thoughtful, it’s meaningful, and it’s going to leave him speechless."

By the time you both finished, you felt a little more prepared for whatever came next. You had everything you needed—and now, it was just a matter of seeing where things would go from here.

—

Arriving at Spencer's new house, your stomach was a tangled mess of knots. Penelope gently rubbed your back as she nudged you forward, sensing your nerves but knowing you needed to confront this moment. In your hands, you held a housewarming gift, trying to steady your breathing as you prepared to see Spencer again.

The door opened, and all the mental preparation in the world couldn't have prepared you for the sight of him. He stood there, looking impossibly handsome, dressed in his usual scholarly, somewhat quirky attire that made him so distinctly Spencer. You found yourself momentarily stunned, heart skipping a beat, as if you were seeing him for the first time.

Spencer seemed equally taken aback. His mouth parted slightly in awe as his eyes drank you in. Your fitted blouse clinging to your chest, unbuttoned just enough to show a tasteful hint of cleavage, the black mini skirt hugging your hips and revealing your legs completing the look. The way the blouse accentuated your figure made it impossible for Spencer to tear his eyes away, his gaze lingering longer than he intended.

For a moment, the two of you stood there, enveloped in a thick silence, the unspoken words and unresolved feelings filling the space between you. Spencer blinked, realizing he had been staring, and quickly cleared his throat, but the flush on his cheeks gave him away. You felt the tension between you both, a strange mix of unresolved emotions, curiosity, and something undeniably electric.

Penelope, sensing the awkwardness, gave you another gentle push, smiling brightly as if trying to break the spell that had momentarily frozen you both in place.

"Well, don’t just stand there!" Penelope chirped. "We’ve got a party to attend!"

Spencer stepped aside to let you in, his voice soft and a little breathless as he said, "I’m... glad you came." His eyes flickered back to yours, filled with something unreadable but intense.

"I wouldn’t miss it," you replied with a small smile, stepping into his home, feeling both the warmth of the occasion and the weight of the unspoken emotions between you, uncertain but not entirely unwelcome.

Taking his position as host, Spencer led you and Penelope through a quick tour of his new home, his voice soft and humble as he pointed out different rooms, clearly still getting used to having his own space. Penelope, ever the social butterfly, slipped away at some point without you noticing, leaving you and Spencer alone as you both ended up in his favorite room of the house: the sunroom.

The sunroom was bright and inviting, with natural light spilling in from every angle, making the space feel warm and open. You wandered in, taking it all in—the large windows framing the outside world like a painting, the cozy furniture perfectly arranged to invite someone to sit and relax. It was peaceful, the kind of place you could imagine spending hours reading or simply watching the world go by.

“This is my favorite room too,” Spencer said quietly, his voice almost a whisper as it floated in from the doorway where he leaned. He watched you with an expression so full of affection that it made your heart stutter. The golden light streaming into the room only seemed to enhance the gentleness in his gaze.

Startled by his sudden words, you turned to face him, realizing for the first time that Penelope was nowhere to be seen. You and Spencer were alone. The realization hit you all at once, causing you to clear your throat awkwardly, unsure of what to say next.

“Uh, yeah,” you finally managed, your voice a little shaky as you tried to regain your composure. “It’s really nice.”

Spencer’s lips curved into a soft smile, his eyes never leaving yours. The comfortable silence stretched between you, filled with unspoken emotions, the warmth of the sunroom matching the gentle warmth that began to stir in your chest.

Spencer took a small step further into the sunroom, the soft creak of the wooden floor beneath him barely audible. He was nervous too, you could tell by the way his fingers fidgeted with the cuff of his sweater, his eyes flickering from you to the view outside before settling back on you.

"I, uh…" he started, his voice soft, almost hesitant. "I've been meaning to thank you again. For everything, I mean. You've been… more understanding than I deserve."

There was something vulnerable in his tone, something that made your chest tighten. You opened your mouth to respond, to say something reassuring, but the words seemed to get stuck in your throat. His eyes were so intense, so full of unspoken feelings, and you could feel the walls around your composure beginning to crumble. Panic bubbled up inside you. The air in the room suddenly felt too thick.

Without thinking, you grabbed the neatly wrapped gift from where you had set it on a nearby table, holding it out toward him with both hands like a peace offering. "Here," you blurted out, a little too quickly. "I, uh, brought this for you. A housewarming gift."

Spencer blinked, momentarily caught off guard, his gaze dropping to the gift before he looked back up at you with a surprised smile. "You didn’t have to do that…"

"It’s nothing, really," you cut in, eager to steer the conversation away from anything too personal. "Just something small. I thought you might like it."

The room felt impossibly small now, and you could feel the warmth of his gaze lingering on you, causing your heart to race. You needed to get out before you said something you couldn’t take back.

"I should, um, check on Penelope," you said, your voice tight but polite as you took a step toward the door. "She’s probably wondering where I went."

Spencer opened his mouth, but whatever words he had were lost as you flashed him a quick, nervous smile and slipped out of the sunroom before he could stop you. You practically bolted down the hallway, your pulse racing, feeling like you had just escaped something far more dangerous than a simple conversation.

Spencer stood in the sunroom, which suddenly felt much colder without your presence. He shifted the box in his hands, letting out a heavy sigh. He had hoped that your coming today meant you were ready to talk, to finally address everything that had been left unsaid between you two.

With a steadying breath, he peeled back the wrapping and opened the box you had handed him. At first, confusion crossed his features—it looked like a simple journal or book with a plain, unmarked cover. But as he pushed the box aside and opened the front cover, his breath hitched in his throat.

It wasn’t just a journal.

You had somehow gotten him the manuscript for The Narrative of John Smith by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the very book his mother used to read to him. His fingers lightly traced the pages, overwhelmed by the sentiment and care behind your gift. His throat tightened, and his heart swelled with an emotion he hadn’t expected to feel so intensely.

He didn’t even know how you knew how much this book meant to him, but the fact that you did—it told him everything. You cared, you understood him, maybe even more than he realized. It wasn't just a thoughtful gift; it was a bridge, a sign that you felt something too.

A surge of determination rushed through him. Whatever hesitation you had, whatever walls were still standing between you both, Spencer was ready to break through them. He was going to win you over, not just because he wanted to, but because he knew you felt something for him as well.

And he wasn’t going to let you slip away again.

The housewarming party had turned out to be everything Spencer had hoped for—filled with warmth, laughter, and the people he cared about most. It was a beautiful reflection of the new chapter in his life, surrounded by his closest friends in a space that finally felt like home.

Even though you'd spent much of the day slipping in and out of conversations, avoiding too much direct interaction with him, Spencer didn’t mind. He was just grateful you were there, moving through his house like you belonged, even if the occasional flutter of nerves kept you at a distance. 

He had faith now—faith that when the time was right, everything between you would be resolved. The gift you gave him spoke louder than any conversation could. You understood him, cared for him, and that was enough for now.

At least, he thought it would be.

As the afternoon started winding down, Spencer caught a glimpse of you hugging Penelope goodbye at the door. Your roommate was leaving, but you weren’t. His heart skipped a beat. Did that mean you were staying?

He stood, leaning casually against the doorframe of the sunroom once again, watching as you said your goodbyes. Hope surged in his chest—hope that maybe you weren’t just staying for the evening, but for something more. Forever would be nice, though he’d settle for today, just for now.

When you turned back toward him, Spencer straightened, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach. This could be it, the moment he’d been waiting for, the conversation that had hung in the air between you both since that day a month ago. He wasn’t going to rush it, but he wouldn’t let this chance slip away either.

You walked toward him slowly, a quiet smile on your face. Spencer’s eyes softened as you approached, and the air seemed to shift, thickening with unspoken words.

“Well, looks like it’s just us,” you said softly, the corner of your lips curling up.

“Yeah,” Spencer replied, his voice steady but his heart racing. “Just us.”

There was no rush, no pressure, but the electricity between you both was undeniable. Spencer knew then—he would wait as long as it took. Because you were worth it. Every second of waiting, every quiet conversation, and every meaningful glance was leading to this.

He didn’t need forever to be decided tonight, but he was ready to start.

You stood in front of him, the soft hum of the house in the background as everything else seemed to fade away. Spencer felt a knot tighten in his chest, a mixture of hope, nervousness, and something that resembled excitement. He watched you carefully, his eyes lingering on the little details, like how your hair fell softly, and how the quiet smile on your lips seemed both tentative and inviting.

“So,” you started, breaking the comfortable silence, “I figured I’d stick around for a little longer. Penelope made it seem like there was more fun to be had.”

Spencer chuckled lightly, his hands fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve, a small nervous habit he couldn’t shake even around you. “More fun, huh? Well, I’ll do my best not to disappoint.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, your grin widening a little, “I doubt you could disappoint anyone, Spencer.”

That simple sentence seemed to make him falter for a moment. He was often too hard on himself, and hearing you say something so kind with such certainty sent a wave of warmth through him.

He cleared his throat, shifting his weight. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he admitted, his voice a little quieter now, like he was letting you in on a secret. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come. And… I wasn’t sure if you were ready to talk.”

You met his gaze, the truth behind his words settling between you both. You knew this conversation was inevitable, and avoiding it wouldn’t solve anything. But now, standing here with Spencer, seeing the sincerity in his eyes and the gentle way he held himself, you realized that maybe you were ready—ready to at least try.

“I wasn’t sure either,” you confessed softly, looking down for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “I needed time to think, and space, I guess. It’s just… complicated.”

“I understand,” he said quickly, not wanting to push you. “I didn’t want to force anything or make you feel uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t, not really,” you reassured him. “It’s just that… Spencer, you were vulnerable when you said all those things. I wanted to make sure you knew what you were feeling. That it wasn’t just because of what happened with Eli.”

Spencer took a slow breath, nodding as he listened carefully to your words. His expression was thoughtful, the gears turning in his mind as he considered how to respond. “I’ve thought about that a lot, actually,” he said finally, his voice steady but soft. “You were right—I was vulnerable. And at first, I wasn’t sure if what I felt was real or if I was just projecting because I was hurt.”

You swallowed, waiting for him to continue.

“But after some time… after having space and thinking about everything,” he continued, taking a small step closer to you, “I realized that what I feel for you has been there for longer than I admitted to myself. Even when I was with Eli, even before everything fell apart—I thought about you, about how much I enjoyed being around you. And it wasn’t just because of the breakup.”

Your heart sped up at his words, and you felt that familiar tug in your chest. His honesty hit you deeply, and for the first time, you could see clearly that Spencer wasn’t just reacting to his recent heartache. His feelings for you were real, and that terrified and thrilled you all at once.

“I just don’t want to hurt you,” you whispered, feeling the weight of the moment settle in. “I don’t want to be a rebound, or something you regret later.”

Spencer’s gaze softened even more, and he reached out, gently taking your hand in his. The gesture was tentative, a quiet question that you answered by not pulling away. “You’re not a rebound,” he promised, his voice full of certainty. “You’re someone I care about deeply, and I would never want to rush or push you into something you’re not ready for. But I need you to know that this… what I feel for you… it’s real.”

You stood there, holding his hand as the weight of his words settled into your heart. You didn’t need all the answers tonight, but for the first time in a while, you felt like you could breathe around him. The tension that had been building between you for the past month seemed to melt away, leaving only the possibility of something new, something hopeful.

Instead of answering Spencer, you stepped closer, the setting sun filtering through the windows creating a soft glow around both of you. With gentle hands, you cupped his face, your thumbs brushing lightly across his cheeks. Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, his breath catching as you gazed at him with a tenderness he had only ever dreamed of. He felt exposed, vulnerable, but in the most beautiful way possible.

For a moment, you just stood there, looking at him—really looking at him—like he was the only person in the world. And to Spencer, you were. His heart raced, the moment feeling both surreal and intimate.

Slowly, you both leaned in, the distance between you shrinking until your lips met in the sweetest, most tender kiss. It was soft, slow, and unhurried, like you had all the time in the world. His lips felt plush and warm against yours, the taste of him lingering on your tongue, and you realized that this—this kiss—was something you never wanted to end.

For Spencer, the world seemed to fall away. Everything he had ever felt or wanted to feel was wrapped up in this single moment. It was a kiss filled with the promise of everything he had hoped for, everything he had dreamed of with you.

When you finally pulled back, his eyes fluttered open, his forehead resting gently against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the soft, sunlit space. He let out a soft, contented sigh, his heart still racing as if it was trying to keep up with the emotions flooding him.

“So, uh…” he whispered with a lopsided, boyish smile, trying to catch his breath, “want to help me finish unpacking some of these books?” He motioned toward the stacks of boxes still lining the walls of the sunroom, his attempt to return to normalcy almost endearing.

You laughed, the tension breaking as the moment turned light again. “I suppose I could lend a hand. I’ve always been pretty good at organizing things.”

Spencer grinned, a spark of excitement in his eyes. “Oh, we’ll see about that. I have a very particular system.”

“Of course you do,” you teased, following him over to the boxes, feeling lighter than you had in weeks.

And as you started to help him unpack, the future didn’t seem as daunting anymore. You weren’t sure where things would go from here, but for the first time, you felt ready to find out. With Spencer by your side, you were ready to see what the future held.

—

The low hum of the bar filled the air, laughter and clinking glasses blending into a soothing background noise. You sat nestled beside Spencer in one of the cozy booths, the soft, amber lighting casting a warm glow over the two of you. His arm was draped around your shoulders in that effortless, natural way he always did now. 

Your head rested gently on his shoulder, your body relaxed against him as if you'd always belonged there. His thumb traced absentminded circles on your arm, a quiet gesture of affection, something he'd picked up over the months of being together. It felt like second nature now. Every so often, you could feel him lean his head against yours, brushing his lips against your temple in the sweetest way.

"You okay?" Spencer’s voice was soft, a private sound meant just for you amidst the noise of the busy bar. He tilted his head to look down at you, his brown eyes twinkling with affection, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.

"Yeah, just… really happy," you murmured, your eyes closed, savoring the feeling of being wrapped in his warmth. "I could stay like this forever."

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest and into you. "That could be arranged," he teased, tightening his arm around you just a bit, as if to make sure you knew he wasn’t planning to let you go anytime soon.

You lifted your head slightly to look at him, your eyes meeting his. There was something about the way Spencer looked at you—like you were his entire world, like he still couldn’t quite believe you were there with him, loving him as much as he loved you.

You remembered, long ago now, seeing Spencer at a bar, and the pang of jealousy you'd felt watching Eli get to kiss him. Back then, it seemed so far away—an impossible thought that you'd be sitting here with him now, his arm around you, his love pouring into every glance he gave you. Now, all those insecurities and doubts had melted away, replaced by the warmth of his affection, by the strength of what you had together.

You realized you'd been staring at him, love in your eyes so obvious that Spencer raised his eyebrows and pulled a funny face, the kind that always made you giggle, light and carefree. That was the thing about him—he knew exactly how to make you laugh, even in the quietest, most tender moments.

He reached up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just a little as if he couldn’t resist touching you. "What’s on your mind, beautiful?" His voice was soft, curious, as though he could sense the depth of your thoughts but wanted to hear them from your lips.

"You," you replied simply, your heart swelling with the truth of it. It was always him—always had been, always would be.

Spencer’s heart felt like it was about to burst as he heard those words. His gaze softened, his hand slipping from your hair to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin with tender care. "I love you," he said, the words gentle but filled with so much certainty.

A soft, dopey smile spread across your face as you leaned closer. "I love you more," you whispered, teasing but sincere.

And with a deep kiss, soft and full of promise, you felt something shift, as though forever had just sealed itself in that moment. In his arms, with his love surrounding you, you knew that there was nothing more you could ever need.

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[moonlinos]

Invisible string (pt. III)

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader

♡ Synopsis: After so many years of being closed off from the idea of love, you finally allow yourself to feel it freely with Minho.

♡ Genre: A ‘lite version’ of a soulmate AU, fluff, smut

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), oral sex (female receiving), protected sex, swearing

♡ Word count: 16.4k

♡ A/N: A part of this chapter was almost shamelessly inspired by the song that inspired the plot in the first place, Invisible String by Taylor Swift. Also really inspired by my favorite Minho vlog, Lee Know Log 4 🩷

To those who have asked to be tagged in this story: would any of you be interested in being tagged in any new work I post later? Let me know! And thank you for reading and giving me such a great experience posting my writing here for the first time 🩷

← part II ♡ ⟳ part I

You spend the entire flight home processing everything that had happened during the trip; from Minho’s words, to your kisses and touches, to you ultimately acknowledging your own romantic feelings for him. Although it all felt sudden, it had been a long time coming.

As his car stops at the front of your house, Minho steps out and walks with you, your backpack in hand.

“I know you’re scared. I understand that even more now that I know about your past relationships,” he speaks softly as the two of you stop at the front door, “And I want you to know that I’m gonna be patient.”

You nod slowly, although the desire to answer him is still so prevalent in your mind, the words lodged in your throat and yearning to spill out. But you’ve made the mistake of jumping into relationships far too often, always driven by your emotions, and every time, the outcome has been disastrous. You don’t want that to happen with Minho.

So, you settle on a question that has been eating away at you.

“Why do you like me, Minho?”

His face twists into a deep frown before ultimately softening. Carefully placing your backpack on the step leading to the front door, he sighs.

“You shouldn’t have to ask me that,” he assures you, his rough hands touching your shoulders before moving down your arms to entwine with your own. “You don’t even realize how fucking amazing you are, do you? I’d move mountains, fight anyone and do anything if it meant I’d have the privilege to see you smile.”

And, just like that, you feel your lips stretch out into a small smile at his words. He grins at you.

“Just like that. I’d do anything to see that,” he says. “And you take care of your friends simply because you love them, never asking for anything in return. You collect plushies like me, you appreciate the criminally underrated flavor of lemon cake, and you worked at the same convenience store as me, and spilled coffee all over my notebook on the day we met. That’s why I like you; because you’re you.”

Tears threaten to well up in your eyes, so you quickly avert your gaze, focusing on your shoes. With a nod, you wrap your arms around Minho, taking in his scent and reveling in the comforting warmth of his body. Little did he know, you were just as willing to do whatever it took to keep him near you. He plants a chaste kiss on your forehead as you break away from his embrace.

“I’ll call you later, okay? Thank you for the trip.”

 

As soon as you step inside your house, Eunha is quick to come running towards you, her hands dirty with flour as she abandons her unbaked cookies on the counter and pulls you into a hug.

“I missed you so much,” she whines, “How will I survive living without you next year?”

You chuckle, watching as her lips turn into a pout.

“I’m sure we’ll suffer equally, if that makes you feel better.”

She fakes a sob, turning on her heels and heading toward the kitchen.

“Oh, Hyunjin is in a crisis, apparently,” she tells you, wiping her hands on her apron. “He called me three times just today to ask if you were back already.”

You let out a sigh. Hyunjin was more often than not either glum or vexed due to his trials and mishaps in finding love. He once joked that you two would end up having to marry each other with how things were going. You dreaded his reaction to the news of Minho soon entering your life in a new way.

“The hotel’s Wi-Fi was a joke, but I honestly didn’t even think to check my phone,” you tell Eunha, who giggles as she cuts her cookies into heart shapes. “What? Why are you giggling like that?” You ask her with a grin, approaching the counter.

She shrugs. “Nothing. I didn’t even think to check my phone,” she playfully mimics your voice, looking up at you, “I’m guessing you had fun, then?”

“I did,” you beam, “It was everything I thought it would be and even more.”

She raises an eyebrow at you. “Even more?”

“Even more,” you reiterate. “I had so much fun with Minho. I forgot how good it feels to just let go and allow myself to feel what I want to feel.”

Eunha’s lips curl into a small smile. She hums, lowering her head in a feeble attempt at pretending to focus on the cookies in front of her. “And what did you want to feel this weekend?”

“Like maybe I can finally fall in love again.”

Your friend lifts her head, her eyes wide. “Love?” she exclaims, “You, the girl who has spent every day since I met you talking about how love isn’t important, is wanting to fall in love?”

You chuckle at her reaction, shrugging dismissively. “In my defense, I had my reasons. Plus, some things made me change my mind.”

“More like someone,” Eunha teases, and you roll your eyes at her, but a smile spreads on your lips unwittingly. “I’m happy for you,” she beams, “and I think you should definitely fall in love again — not maybe.”

You sprint across the small kitchen space, circling around the counter to wrap your arms around Eunha and squeezing her as she lightly pushes you away, warning you about flour getting all over your clothes, but you don’t mind.

Because you love her, as you’ve learned this past weekend, and you don’t mind the mess when it comes to someone you love.

It’s only as you enter your room that you check your phone, which is filled with notifications from Hyunjin, much like Eunha had said. After ten missed calls, it seems he resorted to simply texting you.

Hyune: hey I know you’re in japan but can you answer the phone? Hyune: I promise I’ll be quick. just wanna talk to you Hyune: hear your voice idk I feel really alone rn and really bad idk lol Hyune: mingyu has his girlfriend over. can you believe they’re still together? Hyune: can you believe he has a girlfriend and I can’t even find someone to give me the time of day lol Hyune: can you believe every date I go to ends with me crying lol Hyune: sorry I’m being annoying and the messages aren’t even being delivered, you’re clearly having fun sorry Hyune: sorry Hyune: guess that’s why nobody can endure me for more than two dates Hyune: have fun 🤍 I love you

You feel your heart ache as you read his messages, answering with an apology. But before you can hit send on your second message, Hyunjin has already replied. 

Hyune: it’s okay. I’m sorry I even sent those in the first place

Me: Stop apologizing Me: You know I love you and I’ll always be here for you Me: Where are you?

Hyune: at my dorm Hyune: staring at the ceiling

Me: I’m coming over

True to his words, Hyunjin is lying on the floor of his dorm’s cramped living room once you open the door. There’s a small canvas propped up against the wall, a myriad of shades of blue forming the shape of a face. Your best friend’s talent never ceases to amaze you, and you have to fight the urge to stand still by the front door for a few seconds simply admiring his new painting.

“Look at this sulking Pisces,” you click your tongue as you approach Hyunjin, who only opens one eye to shoot you a glance.

“I’m in a fragile state and this is how you greet me,” he all but pouts before sitting up as you sit cross-legged beside him on the floor. “How was the trip?”

You shrug. “It was fun. We only had one day to explore the city, so we didn’t do much,” you say simply, tapping your fingers on your thigh.

You don’t want to sit and talk about how much fun you had during a trip when Hyunjin’s puffy, bloodshot eyes are staring directly at you. He was sad, and his sadness was palpable throughout the entire living room — his bitten lips, his painting, his hands covered in dried-up blue paint; everything was dripping in sadness. This was a constant with Hyunjin, but lately it had become even worse. He has an overwhelming desire to love and be loved, but his every attempt at fulfilling this desire is futile for reasons you cannot wrap your head around.

“I like the new painting,” you smile, focusing on the saddened blue face. Hyunjin scoffs beside you.

“It’s fucking terrible,” His hand shoves the canvas face down on the floor. You bite your lip. “Can’t even paint shit I like anymore. Every time I try, it always turns out muddy and sad.”

“What happened?”

He lets out a bitter chuckle. “Well I’m pathetic, so it’s still the same old reason. I had a date with this girl on Saturday, but she canceled at the last minute. Texted me something about me being too clingy after she agreed to go out with me, about how she knows she would feel suffocated if we dated.”

You furrow your brows together, anger bubbling up inside your chest. “What the fuck?”

“Oh, but don’t worry!” Hyunjin gave you a forced smile. “She made sure to remind me that it was her, not me, and that lots of women out there like guys like me. Whatever the fuck that means.”

Hyunjin shakes his head, turning his attention toward his hands before scratching some of the dried paint off. You sigh.

“Hyunjin, she isn’t wrong about that. You know that, right? You’re not the one at fault.”

He scoffs. “Sure seems like it when every date I’ve gone to since starting university has ended up with me being rejected for the same fucking reasons. It’s always me. Too clingy, too sentimental, too emotional,” his voice is almost a whisper as he speaks. He turns to face you again. “Remember how I would stop sleeping with you whenever I liked someone? Wanna know why I stopped doing that? ‘Cause I know it’s not gonna go anywhere anyway, so what’s the point? It never goes anywhere, and then I’m left alone again. Maybe I should just accept it, y’know? Some people are just meant to be alone, and clearly I’m one of them.”

Your anger has now morphed into sadness. You hate the way Hyunjin talks about himself, hate it even more how it seems nobody can appreciate the amazing person he is. Being caring and sentimental is not a flaw, and you pray that he never allows other people’s opinions to sway him into thinking that way. You pray he finds someone who can appreciate these qualities in him the same way you do.

“You’re not alone, Hyune,” you assure him, taking one of his hands in yours. “You’re surrounded by friends who love you so much, and while I know that’s not the type of love you yearn for, it’s still love.”

Hyunjin smiles softly at you before pulling you closer and pressing his lips to yours. It’s sudden but not entirely unexpected; the way you and Hyunjin dealt with shitty things in life and unpleasant feelings together had always been through sex, and you knew it always made him feel at least a little better afterward. And so you let him, returning the kiss even as part of you felt wrong doing it when your entire being was consumed with thoughts of only Minho.

As soon as he kisses you, he swiftly pushes you down onto the hardwood floor and hovers over you. Hyunjin’s fingers undo the buttons of your cardigan before slipping under your shirt, caressing your skin as his lips trail kisses down your neck. Soon enough, his body is pressed up against your spread thighs, and you know where this is going — but as much as you want to make your best friend feel better, you cannot bring yourself to do it.

“Hyune,” you softly call out, and he hums against your throat. “We can’t do this.”

He chuckles, squeezing your waist. “Mingyu always comes home late when he goes out with his girlfriend. Don’t worry.”

“It’s not that, Hyunjin. I just—”

“Do you not wanna fuck on the floor?” He asks, coming up to look at you. He cocks his head to the side. “We can just do it on the couch then, I really don’t wanna have sex with all those pictures of Mingyu and his friends staring at us in our room.”

“Hyunjin, no—”

“It’s not like we never did it on a couch before, stop being dramatic—”

“I’m in love with Minho.”

It comes out before you can fully comprehend what you’re saying, the word love slipping past your lips effortlessly. Hyunjin stills on top of you, his body rigid and tense. 

“Oh,” is all he offers you. You nod slowly, fingers picking at a drop of paint that stained the collar of his shirt.

You whisper, “I really am just as surprised as you are, believe me.”

Hyunjin shrugs. “I’m not surprised. I just— now you’re leaving me, too.”

You shake your head. It’s ludicrous to you that Hyunjin could imagine that you would ever even entertain the thought of leaving him. Running a hand through his messy hair, you pull him in and press a kiss to his nose. Hyunjin hides his face in the crook of your neck with a groan.

“Sorry, that was pathetic. I shouldn’t have said that,” he apologizes. “You know I don’t mean it like that. I just love you so much. I thought we would…”

You furrow your brows as he trails off his words. You thread your fingers through his long hair. “We would…?”

“End up together somehow,” he speaks slowly, his voice muffled, and your heart drops.

Hyunjin harboring these feelings about you was something you would never have imagined. You were certain he was content being your friend and having sex with you only until he found the right person. He went on several dates, after all. Your heart feels like it’s been shattered into a million tiny pieces upon learning about his hidden desire for the future he used to so often joke about: you two ending up together simply because you were each other’s only choices.

“Hyunjin,” you start carefully, “I love you, too. So much. You’re my best friend, and that’s never going to change. We don’t have to be together romantically for us to be in love, y’know? I realized that just recently.”

You feel him nod his head, his hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers.

“I’m just sad I won’t have you anymore. I’m gonna miss us so much,” he places a small kiss on your collarbone. “Whenever I felt like I was in a dark pit with no way out, every single time you were there to bring me out of it and make me feel okay again. I love you so much for that.”

And you can only softly smile at his words before your heart shatters all over again as you hear him quietly begin to sob in your skin.

“Hyunjin,” you call out, although you know he won’t reply. “You’re the most beautiful soul I’ve ever met. My love for you goes beyond us having sex — that wasn’t even important to me in our relationship. It was just something good on top of something already amazing.” With a slow nod, he lifts his head and gazes at you with red, teary eyes, causing your heart to ache even more. “I’ll never leave you. Ever. I’ll still answer your four hundred three a.m. texts, still let you hide away in my house, still happily listen to you complain about your days, and still hold you when you cry.”

Hyunjin pouts like a child, and your heart swells with fondness.

“Really?” He asks, and you chuckle with a nod.

“Really,” you assure him. “Me being with someone will never change our friendship, or my love for you. I mean, we won’t have sex anymore, of course, but I’ll still talk shit about your roommate with you so I’m sure you’ll forgive me.”

Hyunjin’s tearful expression vanishes, replaced by a small teasing grin. “I am gonna have to jerk off significantly more, so I don’t know about forgiveness,” he jokes.

You push him off you with a chuckle, sitting up as he tries to regain his balance.

“When did this whole thing with Minho even happen?” Hyunjin asks, setting his painting back against the wall. You shrug, buttoning up your cardigan. He hums. “So, are you already together?”

“Not yet,” you say, “but I’m gonna answer him after our class this week. If he fucking lets me, that is. He says he wants to be patient, but I don’t want to be patient. The only thing I wanna be is with him.”

Hyunjin’s whole body contorts as he groans. “Ew, what the fuck? When did you become such a sap?”

As you shove him back once more, you both burst into laughter while Hyunjin stumbles back and spills a mug filled with dirty paint water all over his floor.

The rest of the day goes by with you and Hyunjin painting together, a much broader array of colors and a much happier end result on the canvas: beautiful flowers painted by him standing alongside clumsily drawn hearts, stars, and other doodles painted by you. After signing your name above his elegant signature, you inform him the painting is leaving with you — it’s hanging up on your wall as soon as you arrive home.

Hyunjin is your best friend; it’s been this way for the last two years, and it’s indisputable to you that this fact will remain no matter what happens. As you watch him hunched over your painting, insisting that his flowers could be more detailed — even after you assured him a thousand times that they were perfect — you curse yourself for not realizing how beautiful this love between you two is. You hope he cherishes this love as well, in spite of his desire for the two of you to be together in the future. You know deep down this idea stemmed from his fear of solitude.

You’re not worried about him at all, though. He’s a precious soul, and anyone who fails to recognize that doesn’t deserve him. He’s simply getting rid of the wrong people in order to find the right person, someone who sees him as you do.

The love you feel for Hyunjin is unchanging, and if you had any say in it, it would be everlasting.

Your next Japanese class with Minho comes too soon, and you find yourself unprepared. Every trace of resolve you had after returning from your trip dissipated bit by bit every time you saw or talked to him. As soon as you saw his figure step into the coffee shop on Monday to pick up his usual order, you realized that every single scenario your mind had conjured up fell flat. Minho was beautiful, amazing, breathtaking — he deserved something grand and earth-shattering, not a simple answer from a girl who wasn’t even half as good as he was.

It certainly did not help that he, always true to his words, respected your time. Not once during his coffee trips or your never-ending talks through the phone did he mention the topic. And it was slowly but surely driving you insane.

You bite your lips so much on your way to university you’re sure your lipstick is gone by the time you enter the building, and you’re surprised your poor bag isn’t riddled with holes in the cloth from your insistent picking. You shouldn’t feel this nervous — Minho is the one waiting for an answer, after all. For all he knows, you could be simply building up the courage to let him down gently. But you are nervous. You’re terrified he will listen to your clumsy words and decide he deserves someone better. Or, worse yet, will only realize how undeserving of his love you are once you’re in a relationship.

And you don’t think you can face another heartbreak where you’re left to mend your gashes all alone.

You enter the building with shaky hands, fiddling with the strap of your bag and walking toward your classroom on autopilot as your mind is too busy running over all the ways in which this could go wrong.

All faded, however, once you saw Minho waiting for you in front of your classroom. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose as he looked down at his phone, his body wrapped in a cozy-looking black sweater and sweatpants, a keychain of a cat plushie hanging from his backpack matching his phone case. You stop a few feet away from him. He deserves the world, and that terrifies you. Still, his presence alone melts away every ugly word of doubt and every piece of worry inside your body until the only thing you can feel is the swirling of that familiar pinwheel spinning inside your chest.

You greet him with a long hug, hoping he can’t feel your heart beating through your own sweater.

After class, he walks you to work, enthusiastically telling you about the progress he, Chan and Seungmin have made on their game. You nod and hum along to his words, but you can’t, for the life of you, focus on a word he’s saying. All you want to do is tell him you like him — god, you like him so much — but every time you’re close to doing it, the ugly words return and scream that he deserves more than an underwhelming confession on a gloomy, empty street.

You stop walking as you two reach the bench located just far away enough from the hustle and bustle of students on campus, the one where no one bothered you when you sat here by yourself for three years, the one that had oddly become your favorite bench among all the other identical ones scattered throughout your university.

Because it was here that you and Minho had your first real conversation, it was here where you two laughed and gasped at all the little coincidences between your lives, and it was here where you began to build a friendship with this wonderful guy who would unknowingly change you for the better.

It was the perfect place, and you berated yourself for not realizing that sooner.

Minho’s voice calling out your name pulls you away from your thoughts, his hand wrapping around yours and pulling you gently toward his body. You hum before colliding against his chest as he chuckles.

“You just stopped walking,” he says, a lilt of confusion in his voice. “I know you hate work, but I didn’t think it was this serious.”

And when you properly turn to look at him, Minho is smiling so beautifully under the somber sky of winter, as if he is the embodiment of sunshine — always glistening and radiating such a comforting warmth no matter how glum the world around him is. And, at the sight of him, you just can’t stop your words. Never mind how gloomy this campus seems or how lackluster your words are — Minho’s presence alone makes everything become golden.

“I like you because you’re you,” you mirror his words at you, “Because you laughed in my face for spilling coffee all over your notebook when I didn’t even know you, because you love coffee just as much as I hate it, and because you believe in silly myths about riding paddle boats together,” You blurt out, words completely unbidden by your brain. Minho’s eyes widened for a beat before slowly turning into crescent moons as a smile spread across his lips. You take a deep breath before continuing, the words flowing out of you so quickly you’re worried he won’t be able to understand you, “And you opened my eyes to the love I feel for my friends, which I was so fucking stupid and blinded to. But, most importantly, you taught me that love isn’t bad. It can never be bad because you’re love, Minho. You’re full of love, and there’s not an ounce of anything bad in you. And you make me feel deserving of this love, even though I still don’t understand how I can be deserving of something so beautiful.”

Minho’s arms are pulling you into an embrace before you can process everything you said, and by the time you seem to come to your senses, you realize tears have welled up in your eyes. He holds you close to him silently for a while, his left hand delicately massaging your scalp as you clutch onto the fabric of his sweater as if he might be taken away from you if you let go.

“I like you, too,” he whispers against your hair, and you feel your lips contort into a pout.

“You already told me that,” you grumble. “I just word-vomited my feelings to you and this is all you have to say?”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your head. “What else is there to say? I like you so much I don’t think I can put it into words. I might just say something stupid if I talk about it too much.”

You furrow your brows, pulling away from his embrace to face him. “Something stupid like what?”

“Like saying I love you.”

Your lips part, but no words come out. Yet again, Minho has rendered you speechless. He shakes his head dismissively, a smile still etched onto his lips.

“No need to say anything. I told you it was stupid,” his eyes drift over to the bench beside you two, and his smile grows. “Guess this has to become my favorite bench too.”

You let out a laugh, but it’s cut short by your tears spilling out again. Minho quickly turns to look at you again, his expression shifting into a mixture of happiness and worry for you as he wipes your tears away with his thumbs.

And as the sun begins to set, the street lights flicker on, casting a warm, yellow glow over everything around you. You cup Minho’s face and press a chaste kiss to his lips, then to his nose, before wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into an embrace once again.

“I don’t think I’m ready to love you yet. I’m sorry,” you apologize, both to him and yourself.

Minho simply hums, kissing your cheek. “I told you I’m patient, because love is patient. I would wait an eternity for the privilege of hearing you say you love me.”

You and Minho have officially been together for almost two months by the time winter break arrives. You’ve done everything couples do, except for two things: say I love you and go all the way. You’ve done every other possible thing — well, Minho has done every other possible thing to you, with you discovering that Minho particularly loves eating you out, often laying on your lap on your couch after work and rubbing his head against your thighs like a cat, humming and sighing until he has your attention before all but begging you to let him go down on you. Whenever you offer to do the same to him, in any way, he immediately turns the offer down, saying he’s satisfied just pleasuring you. It always leaves you with a million questions, as you notice him have to adjust himself in his pants or coincidently go to the bathroom, but you don’t question it.

The two of you also found ways to get around the whole L-word situation. I missed you becoming your go-to phrase for when you want to scream out that you love him, but are still unable to, while he usually just makes you swallow both your words and his own that are lingering inside your mouth with a kiss.

You had fallen into a routine quickly, with you visiting Minho most evenings after your shift to just lay on Chan’s stiff leather couch and watch him work. You two always hang out with his co-workers slash friends for a while before leaving for the night — Seungmin becoming like the pestering but loveable little brother you never had — and you head to your house in Minho’s car before you sneak him into your home so Mrs. Choi remains none the wiser.

Her ‘no boyfriends spending over two days at the house’ rule can’t possibly apply if she doesn’t even know Minho is there in the first place.

And so, he’s been basically living alongside you and your housemates. This outcome was almost inevitable since Minho hates his roommates while you love each other’s company.

You’re now packing your things with Hyunjin, who’s been sitting on your bed for the last half-hour rather than helping you as he’d promised. In the past month, he’s been able to come to terms with the fact that his ideal future with you was nothing but a coping mechanism after a month of sulking every time Minho was around. He deleted every shitty dating app on his phone and now focuses on finding love naturally, recently going out with a girl he met in one of his classes. The first time they met was the epitome of a meet-cute, with her accidentally bumping into him and spilling black paint all over his shirt. It brought back memories of when you first met Minho, and you had high hopes that this time things would work out differently for him. But, judging by the scowl on Hyunjin’s face and his nonstop complaining, you were wrong.

“But, be for real, why did it take her six dates to realize she doesn’t think we’ll work out?” He grumbles, spinning one of your necklaces around his finger like it’s a toy. “I paid for every meal, made sure she got at least two orgasms every time we went out, and she just suddenly decides we won’t work out? Fuck off.’’

You chuckle, closing your suitcase after triple-checking that you packed Minho’s Christmas present and walking over to where Hyunjin is sitting, snatching your necklace from his hand.

“Maybe she liked the free food and orgasms too much to let them go.”

Hyunjin scowls. “You’re saying that’s the only reason she went out with me?” He feigns offense, shaking his head. “I hope Minho’s parents hate your guts.”

“Hyunjin!” You exclaim, watching as he bursts out laughing. “Don’t even joke about that. You know how nervous I am.”

“There’s no way they won’t like you,” He assures you, “You’re fucking amazing, not to mention their son loves you. That’s more than enough reason to love you too.”

You clutch the necklace in your hand, humming before turning on your heels to check your drawers for anything you might have missed. Hyunjin using the word love makes you a bit anxious, an unwelcome reminder that you still haven’t been able to overcome this stupid emotional blockage preventing you from telling Minho you love him. The first and only time you’d ever said you loved Minho was that evening at Hyunjin’s dorm, and it hadn’t even been directed at him. Without saying a word, you both understand the love that exists between you — it’s unspoken, but deeply felt — and you’re aware of that, but the fear that one day he’ll grow tired of waiting is painfully tangible inside your mind.

When Minho invited you to spend Christmas with his family, you hesitated at first. Meeting your ex-boyfriends’ families had never been so significant. You were a teenager at the time, the implications were different and the stakes didn’t seem as high. This time, it feels as if getting Minho’s parents to like you is indispensable. How will he go on dating a woman his parents deem unfit for him? Especially with how highly he speaks of his mother, you’re sure her opinion of you will weigh on his mind.

You can only hope they love you half as much as you love their son.

The car ride to Minho’s parents’ house was around half an hour.

Half an hour you spent picking at a loose thread on your skirt and overthinking so much your head ached by the time he parked the car. You hated how nervous you were, but Minho’s parents liking you was a non-negotiable. 

After insisting on carrying your own suitcase — just in case his parents might think you’re an overbearing girlfriend if they see Minho carrying your bag for you — the two of you walk up the stairs and into his home. The first thing you notice is how cozy-looking everything is; from the family pictures neatly placed on coffee tables and on the walls, cat furniture and toys mixed in with their actual furniture, down to the fuzzy blankets thrown over the couches.

The second thing that catches your attention is the quietude permeating throughout the house, as well as the fact that the first family member to greet you two is an orange cat.

“Oh, did you miss me this much?” Minho asks in a sweet, singsong voice, similar to how you would speak to a baby. He crouches down to pet the cat, who is now entangling himself between his legs. He introduces you by your name, because Soonie is truly just another family member to him. You chuckle, kneeling next to him and carefully extending your hand toward the orange ball of fur.

“Hello, Soonie,” you speak quietly, afraid you’ll spook him. He eyes you carefully before sniffing your fingers and, ultimately, rubbing his head on your hand. You sigh in relief, petting his fur with a smile.

Minho’s cats liking you was also a non-negotiable.

You place your suitcases in Minho’s childhood bedroom, his parents letting him know they will arrive a little late after going Christmas shopping. Looking around his small room, you smile at all the small things that scream Lee Minho. The pictures of him and his friends back in high school are the first thing you notice, glued to the wall in front of his door lopsided. His thick-rimmed glasses and bowl cut make you smile as you analyze one of the pictures, where he and four other boys hug and smile widely in a karaoke room. Then, of course, his extensive plushie collection sat against a wall to your left — all stacked on top of each other like a mountain — which he proudly shows off to you.

“Y’know, I had to basically fight a little girl at the Sanrio store for this one,” he says, a bit too smugly, while holding a plush of Kuromi dressed in a ladybug costume. “I was sixteen, though, so I think that excuses my behavior. I would never do that nowadays.”

You narrow your eyes, humming skeptically. “Sure you wouldn’t.”

Minho just chuckles, meticulously placing the doll back in its place beside the cherry on top of a rather large Pusheen pudding plushie.

“Oh! You have to see my books.” He takes your hand in his, dragging you toward the wall facing his bed. A bookshelf expanding from the floor to the ceiling makes your mouth drop. You hadn’t noticed it before, with it being hidden away in the corner of the room. The bookshelf is decorated with fairy lights — which Minho promptly switches on — and filled with beautiful books, from intricately designed hard covers to intricate sprayed edges, every single book in his collection has something special about it.

He uses a small metal ladder to reach the top of the shelves before handing you a book so thick your wrist almost bends upon grabbing it. It’s a collection of seven Jane Austen novels, all in a gorgeous blue and golden hardcover. You eye the book like it’s a precious jewel, carefully running your fingers over the details engraved on the cover. Beside you, Minho lets out a breathy laugh, stepping down from the ladder and bumping your shoulder lightly.

“You can open it,” he tells you, but you’re still too mesmerized by the book to look at him. “It’s what books are for, whether they’re pretty or not. You have to open it and read it, otherwise they lose their purpose.”

You nod slowly, but remain unmoving. Minho’s hand suddenly rests on top of yours, and he opens the book for you. The page is entirely annotated, with highlighters and thoughts jotted down on pencil in messy handwriting. Looking up at him, you are met by his smile.

“See? The book is fine, the world didn’t end. I have these special editions because I enjoy collecting pretty things, but I always read them,” he explains, “I like when books reflect the emotions I felt while reading them. I annotate, scribble, highlight — I once threw a special edition Stephen King book across the living room and into a wall. There’s an indentation on it till this day.”

You gasp. “Minho, what the fuck?”

He shrugs dismissively. “I know, I know. All book sins in the eyes of many people. But, like I said, that just reflects the emotions I felt while reading that book. I look through any of these pages and I know exactly what I felt at that time of my life.”

You nod, your lips absentmindedly curling into a smile. Minho truly is something else. You skim the page opened before you, reading some of his annotations and laughing quietly to yourself as he wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

As you close the book, he speaks again, “They’re a bit like people, aren’t they? Pretty and put-together on the outside, but once you really dig in, it’s all a mess and cluster of feelings and passion.”

 

You and Minho spend an hour lounging around the living room, with you meeting his other two cats during that time. Soonie and Doongie’s adoration toward Minho is clear, with both orange cats always rubbing against his leg or tangling themselves in his sneakers by the door as you two cuddle on the couch. Dori, however, remains laid on his cat tree, barely sparing the two of you a glance. Minho jokes that Dori hates him after he left his first mom, even showing you further proof in the form of a video where the gray cat bites his nose while he sleeps.

Upon hearing the key turn on the front door, your heart is quick to jump. Minho’s parents have arrived.

Sitting up on the couch, you gently push Minho away from you. He shoots you a questioning look.

“What? I don’t want them to think we were doing something indecent.”

“Indecent?” Minho repeats with a chuckle. “We were cuddling, not consummating a marriage on this couch.”

You grumble incoherent words under your breath, shrugging. “I know. I just want them to like me.”

“They were more than okay with seeing me cuddle my ex when I was a teen. We’re both adults, I’m pretty sure they won’t think you’re a filthy harlot.”

You gasp, hitting his chest and hissing through your teeth. “A harlot?”

Minho lets out a long, hearty laugh just as his parents walk through the door.

“Oh, there you are!” You hear his mother’s voice call out as soon as she steps inside the living room. You turn to face her and you’re greeted by the same smile you see on Minho’s face every day — they look so similar you have to hold back a gasp. “It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

You stand up from the couch and smooth down your long skirt, smiling while she walks toward you. You’re caught off guard when she pulls you into a hug as soon as she’s in front of you, her arms squeezing you as she sighs happily into your hair.

“Mom,” Minho calls out, “You’re scaring her.”

His mom pulls away with a chuckle, her left hand pinching her son’s cheek before resting on your shoulder again. “He’s the one who’s scared I’ll embarrass him,” she refutes. “And, god, you’re so pretty! Minho told me you were beautiful, but I just assumed it was the infatuation speaking.”

You feel your cheeks flush at her words, biting back a smile. Minho had talked to his mother about you — had said you were beautiful. You swear if you died tonight, you would die a happy woman.

As his mother steps away from you and into the kitchen, rambling on about how crowded the shopping mall had been, a man comes into your field of vision. He nods courtly before extending his hand, which you shake a bit awkwardly.

“I’m Minho’s dad,” he simply says. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Minho has been very happy on the phone since meeting you.”

And with that, he’s off into the kitchen, following his wife. You’re left a bit dazed. Minho truly was a perfect blend of his mother’s appearance and his father’s calm personality. 

Beside you, Minho pulls you into a side hug, his chilly hands caressing your arms. “See? It’s impossible not to love you.”

You freeze for a moment, before relaxing as you realize he’s talking about his parents loving you. You curse yourself inwardly for being so damn emotionally constipated, but let out a sigh of relief nonetheless.

You were worried for so many different reasons — that you wouldn’t measure up to Minho’s first girlfriend, that your personality would be scrutinized until your flaws finally emerged, and that this would be the catalyst for Minho to realize you’re not worth it. Not worth waiting until you can tell him you love him, not worth waiting until you feel like sex isn’t going to just ruin everything between you, not worth the hassle and the chore that is loving someone like you.

But as he walks into the kitchen with you, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist, like he’s proud to show you off to his parents, the level of reliability he radiates is enough to melt away all the annoying little worries you had inside your head.

Christmas eve comes two days later, and you’re rudely woken up in the morning by the sound of Minho’s voice cursing under his breath as he drops something on the floor by his bed. You groan, rubbing your eyes, and he turns to face you with an apologetic look on his face.

“Sorry,” he whispers, kneeling down next to the bed and pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Good morning.”

“What time is it?”

“Eight, I think.” His fingers brush your hair away from your face. “I didn’t set an alarm ‘cause I didn’t wanna wake you up, but guess my inability to be quiet did that anyway.”

You chuckle lightly, scrunching up your nose. “Why are you up so early?”

“Gotta start cooking dinner soon,” he explains.

“Already?” You ask, perplexed. You knew he cooked Christmas dinner all by himself every year for his family, but you never conceived just how much work that would be for a single person.

Minho is unyielding despite your best efforts at persuading him to stay and cuddle you for a few more hours, and watching him cook is always oddly attractive to you, so you find yourself joining him in the kitchen, wrapped up in one of his many cat print sweaters.

At first, you simply sit up at one of the counters and watch him, mesmerized and all but drooling at the way he rolls up his sleeves, the prominent veins making his arms look so sexy while doing such a mundane thing like chopping fucking vegetables. Not to mention his hands, so beautiful and big as he rubs the seasoning on something you don’t even care to identify because you’re just too busy thinking about those hands all over your body. Only now do you notice how no real sex for almost two months has really taken a toll on you, what with the way you have to cross your legs just to try and relieve some tension because your mind won’t stop thinking about Minho’s veiny arms caging you against this counter and his big hands—

Minho calls out your name, and you snap out of your fantasies, humming as you reluctantly turn your attention toward his face with a dazed expression. He seems to find it funny, as he chuckles before repeating himself, “I asked if you would like to help. I can teach you some of the easy stuff. Must be boring just sitting there and watching.”

Oh, but it isn’t boring at all.

But you’d never tell him that, so you nod before hopping off the counter and awaiting further instructions. Turns out you’re worse at cooking than you had thought, so you’re relegated to chopping duty, which you hate for two reasons — firstly, chopping vegetables is boring, and secondly, you’re now deprived of your view of Minho as you stand with your back turned to him while he cooks.

It’s around five p.m. when Minho’s mom joins you two in the kitchen, and by that time you’ve done all you could, so you’re back to your spot on the counter. She smiles at you before ruffling Minho’s hair as he closes the oven.

“My baby is such a wonderful cook, isn’t he?” she praises, and he shrugs with a smirk.

“I am very boyfriend material, aren’t I?”

You chuckle as you watch his mom carefully fixing his hair which she had messed up, Minho scrunching up his face as she then fixes his wire-frame glasses on his nose.

“I’m so glad you’re wearing your glasses again,” she comments, cupping his cheeks and squeezing before letting go. “You look so handsome.”

“You should thank her,” Minho smiles, turning to look at you, and you shoot him a puzzling look. “Remember on your birthday, when you told me I looked good wearing glasses?” He asks, and you nod slowly. “That’s why I stopped wearing contacts.”

Your mouth opens, but you can’t find the words to answer him. You can feel your cheeks dusting pink as his mom coos at the two of you, saying something about young love that has you gnawing on your lips to hold back the silly smile you want to let out.

Minho’s mom leaves the kitchen shortly after, his father calling her from the living room. He takes this as his chance to approach where you’re sitting, hands resting on your thighs before he presses his lips against yours.

“I wanted to look handsome for you. It’s kinda pathetic, isn’t it?” He chuckles against your lips, and you simply shake your head, tangling your fingers in his black hair that has now grown past his eyes.

“It’s actually fucking adorable,” you assure him, pulling him into another kiss, one much deeper than the last.

He quickly uses his hands to spread your thighs apart, pressing his body into yours as you wrap your legs around his waist. The effect this man has on you is mindboggling; the mere slide of his tongue against your lips has you shivering. It certainly doesn’t help that you are now in the exact position from your imagination earlier today.

Minho always tasted like your own personal favorite flavor, always deliciously swirling on your tongue whenever you kissed him. He always renders your mind fuzzy and silly as bliss consumes the entirety of your being. You can only imagine how sex with him will feel like, and you don’t think you can wait any longer. Your worries be damned. You needed him more than you could handle.

But just as Minho pulls you closer to his body — your core dangerously close to his crotch, and sucking on your tongue in a way that has you mewling against his lips — his mother calls out your names, and you two quickly separate, startled as if you were burned. She informs you his grandmother has arrived and you two walk to the living room to greet her. You silently thank the universe for her not walking into the kitchen; the last thing you want is for Minho’s poor grandmother to catch you two making out on the counter like two teenagers.

She is a sweet lady, certainly not as old as you expected her to be, and she always has a smile etched onto her lips stained with red lipstick. You don’t even have to ask to know she is his mother’s mom, as the three of them share the exact same smile you grew to love so much.

You find yourself even more comfortable today, as you help both women set up the table for dinner — his grandma meticulously placing a beautiful lace cloth over the table while telling you about how this was one of her late husband’s first gifts to her when they first moved in together. 

It felt as if you were part of the family.

And as you turn on your heels to grab the fancy silverware from a cabinet, your eyes meet Minho’s gaze. With a smile on his face, he stands by the kitchen door, watching you, and your heart swells with joy.

This was everything you never thought love could be.

Christmas dinner was amazing — as you knew it would be. Minho’s cooking is always fantastic, and pure happiness is written all over his face whenever he was complimented. The way he offers to serve everyone, watching intently as each of you took the first bite before he finally allowed himself to eat as well, his lips upturned into a grin and his ears red as you all hummed and gasped at how tasty everything was. It’s his love language; from the way he carefully and methodically prepares the food, to the way he enjoys watching other people eat more than eating himself. He shows his love through his cooking, you realize, and you smile as you think back to numerous times you woke up in the morning with a beautiful table set with breakfast for you after he spent the night at your house.

You haven’t put it into words yet, but he has unquestionably been showing his love for you through his little actions.

And that’s what you want to do tonight as well.

After watching a cliche Christmas movie with his family, you two are now the only ones awake with you drying off the dishes Minho’s washing. He looks beautiful even now, with his hands clad in neon green dishwashing gloves.

“Minho,” you call out, poking his rib with the plate he just handed you. He squirms with a giggle, warning you to not tickle him. You simply hum, continuing as nonchalantly as you can. “Do you wanna have sex tonight?”

His hand stills, dropping a knife on the sink as his head turns abruptly to look at you, eyes bewildered. “What? What, and you ask me this now? While we’re doing the dishes?” He sputters, and you grin with a shrug.

“It’s not a big deal,” you say, placing the plate on top of the counter. “I just… really wanna do it. Really want you.”

Minho turns off the tap — at least five knives left ignored at the bottom of the sink — removes his gloves and lets out a heavy sigh.

“Okay, not what I expected to happen on Christmas night, but I’ll take it.”

You both stare at each other for a beat, before inexplicably bursting out laughing. Maybe it’s the sheer suddenness of your request, or the absurdity of the situation you were in when it happened, but you can’t help it.

As you both calm down, Minho pulls you into his arms and informs you that he will have to go out and buy condoms, since he truly wasn’t expecting anything to happen. You don’t fault him, the two months you’ve been together were filled with you all but running away from sex. You couldn’t help it, your brain always dragging you back to that night in Japan, and the way he avoided your gaze in the morning. Although you knew it was irrational, and that he was simply shy, your self-sabotaging skills were too great, and your mind insisted that if you had sex with Minho too soon he would think you were nothing but a slut. That’s what you were told most of your life, anyway, so you couldn’t be blamed for the way your brain was almost conditioned into assuming the same.

But Minho had proved time and time again that he was not like the awful guys before him, and that all your worrying was unwarranted and foolish. You were depriving yourself of something you wanted badly out of sheer insecurity and attachment to experiences so far in the past it was almost masochistic at this point.

You insist on joining him on his impromptu trip to the convenience store, only throwing one of his sweaters over the dress and tights you wore for Christmas dinner.

Minho holds your hand as you two walk down the empty street, Christmas lights from the houses and stores making everything seem almost like a movie. You spot the familiar logo from across the street, and Minho bumps his shoulder with you while you head toward the convenience store chain where you both once worked.

“This is actually the exact one I used to work at,” He tells you as you look through a fridge hidden away in the back of the store. “I loved working the graveyard shift. I rang up so many couples awkwardly buying condoms like they were buying hard drugs.”

You chuckle, settling for some pudding you two could share later. “Will that be us tonight?”

He shrugs. “We’re adults, it’s normal to buy these things. Unless you want me to act like I’m buying crack cocaine, then I’d be happy to indulge you.”

You stick your tongue out at him with a light shove, turning to look through the rather lacking options on the condom shelf.

“Grape flavor?” Minho makes a face as he eyes one of the boxes. “Who the fuck would want the artificial taste of grapes when fucking?”

You shrug. “Could be worse, imagine banana-flavored condoms. I think I’d throw up all over your dick.”

“That’s sexy,” He jokes, and you let out a loud chuckle, earning you a look from the only other person at the store this time of night on Christmas eve.

Among your other options are a green glow-in-the-dark condom — which would only make you think of Shrek while Minho fucks you — and a strawberry-flavored one. You decide to play it safe, grabbing a box of plain, thin condoms and placing them in the basket Minho’s carrying.

“Let’s just go for the safest option,” you tell him, “We’ll have plenty of time to play around later if you want, though I’ll go on birth control once we’re back home so we won’t even need them anyway.”

You watch as Minho’s eyes widen for a second, his eyebrows shooting up almost comically.

“Sure, yeah.”

“Don’t short-circuit now. I need you functioning to fuck me.”

“Keep saying shit like that and I’ll be broken before we even make it back to my house,” he states matter-of-factly, and you chuckle, shaking your head at his words. But Minho’s expression remains unchanged. “I mean it. It’s been over a year since I’ve had proper sex. I’m surprised I didn’t combust the second you said those words to me in the kitchen.”

With a chuckle, you pull him to your side and walk toward the cashier. It’s a poor teenage boy, no older than eighteen, clearly bored out of his mind and wishing to be anywhere but here. As he rings up your items, Minho points to his phone that’s resting on the counter.

“That’s Ahri from League of Legends, right?” He asks, and the boy looks up, his eyes sparking with interest. He nods. “I don’t play, but I’m a game programmer, so I know a little bit about it. What’s your rank?”

“Grandmaster,” the boy answers proudly, his face lighting up with a hint of joy, probably for the first time since his shift started.

“Oohh,” Minho gasps loudly, basically hyping up this random boy at the convenience store. You watch the interaction with a silly smile on your face. “And you’re still young, wouldn’t be surprised to see you at World’s someday.”

The boy shakes his head dismissively as Minho hands him his card, but smiles nonetheless. Once he hands you your things, he speaks again, “Are you from around here, hyung? Let me know when you have a game out, I’d love to try it. See if you’re any good.”

Minho raises his brows at the obvious teasing lilt in his voice, lips upturning into a grin. “How about this? I’ll give you the beta code and you can start your career of testing games for money.”

“You’ll pay me?” The cashier marvels at the words, and Minho simply nods. He jots down a code from his phone into a scrap piece of paper on the counter, the boy’s face now a complete shift from the expression he wore when you first walked in, all because of Minho and his ability to be kind and sweet no matter the person or circumstance.

As you head back to his house, only the two of walk along the shy streets as the clock hands turn past midnight. Among all the bad people in this world, you’re indescribably happy that a man as good as him is the one walking beside you down this street, firmly holding your hand.

You arrive home and quietly head straight into Minho’s room. You thank any higher power that might exist for the fact that his room is the only one on the first floor, as you would have to endure your desperate need and desire for him until you got home if it wasn’t. Any of Minho’s family members walking in or hearing you two have sex would make you want to flee the country and change your name.

He joins you after storing your puddings in the fridge, making you jump with his arms wrapped around your waist while you were blankly staring at the pictures on his wall. You sigh, the realization of what was going to happen only really dawning on you now that you stand in Minho’s bedroom, and your mind starts to wander and doubt everything all over again.

“I kind of ruined the mood by asking to have sex, didn’t I?” You ask as Minho places a chaste kiss on your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder.

“There was really no mood in the first place,” he lets out a breathy chuckle. “We were washing the dishes.”

You roll your eyes, once again more annoyed at yourself than at him. You could only hope that your awful propensity of bringing up these irritating thoughts of yours at the worst possible moments didn’t drive Minho away from you. Could only hope you were worth it in the end.

“I know, it’s just…” You trail off with another heavy sigh. “This guy I dated hated that. Said I should just initiate it instead of asking like it was a business transaction.”

You feel Minho shake his head. “That’s stupid. Why would I think that?” He sounds incredulous, and hearing him say it makes you realize just how asinine that thought really was. “We had to buy condoms, anyway. It’s also good that you’re comfortable asking me that. It’s as it should be.”

And you can only smile, biting back a giggle because of course he thinks that. It’s as if Jane Austen came back from the dead simply to write Lee Minho.

His arms tighten around your waist, and you turn your head to look at him. “You should really stop thinking about… them,” He hesitates, “Your exes, I mean. Stop comparing, assuming everything will be the same and have the same sad ending. You need to let go of that in order to truly heal. I hate how every time I’m good to you, or do the bare fucking minimum, your mind spins it into something being your fault. I hate what they did to you so much.”

You feel your breath get caught in your throat, tears threatening to spill much like they do every time you are faced with this topic. But you hold them in. You don’t want to cry, not right now, not when everything is so perfect with Minho. So, instead, you take in his words. He’s undoubtedly right, and you must force yourself to face this uncomfortable truth.

Slowly, you promise yourself. You smile at him, a silent promise to him, and you know he understands you when he smiles back, his lips pressing a kiss to your lips.

He lets go of you and rummages through his drawers, and you look around once more. His plushie mountain, the pictures of his childhood and high school days. You scrunch up your nose.

“Will it be too weird to have sex in your childhood bedroom?”

From where you’re standing, his back turned to you, you can faintly make out the tip of his ears turning red as he runs a finger through his hair.

“Well, not really…” He trails off, “I had sex with my ex-girlfriend here all the time when we skipped school together.”

You let out a gasp. “Lee Minho skipped school?”

He chuckles, closing his drawers and immediately wrapping his arms around you. He’s a lot more touchy since you brought this whole topic up, you notice.

“My parents were always at work, though, so this is my first time doing it while they’re right upstairs,” He explains, bringing his finger up to your lips and lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. “So we’ll have to be quiet.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, nodding. You know all too well you’ll probably be too quiet. Once again your trauma playing a part in this, the words an old boyfriend harshly spilled about you being too loud and vocal have always been present in your head. Now that you think about it, all these moments and words are like post-it notes stuck to your mind, and you skim through like a student cramming for an exam every day in search of one that applies to your current situation. It was excruciating.

Hyunjin tried his best to change this about you, always assuring you he liked to hear you during sex when he noticed your pursed and bitten lips, and that you should be vocal about what you want and like. But you always settled for nods and quiet hums instead.

Minho presses a quick kiss on your forehead then. “I’m gonna shower ‘cause my hands still smell like onions and garlic after washing them a thousand times,” he tells you. “I’ll be right back.”

As you’re busying yourself looking through Minho’s extensive collection of books, a meow pulls your attention toward the door. It’s Dori, the gray cat you’ve decided is your favorite since it’s the only one you can easily recognize. He stares for a beat before approaching you, and you kneel carefully to stroke his soft fur. You soon find yourself sitting down by the bed with Dori on your lap, purring away as your mind travels to a future in which you and Minho adopt cats of your own, all while living together and making plans for the rest of your lives. It terrifies you slightly to allow yourself to have these thoughts because if things were to go wrong with Minho, this would only be another ‘what if’ that would haunt you.

Another post-it note to your already cluttered-up mind.

But his words from earlier come back to you just as you begin to panic. You have to let go of the past and stop assuming only the worst outcomes are attainable. And so you simply smile at the imagination, letting your mind run wild while Dori falls asleep on your lap, his gray fur all over your red dress.

You and Dori both jump as Minho all but slams the door when he returns, a towel in his hand drying his damp hair. He cringes at the sound, cursing under his breath. Dori leaves your lap, and you stand up with a pout. He definitely is your favorite cat among the three.

“Sorry,” Minho whispers, as if that will compensate for the loud noise. You take in his appearance; a green Christmas sweater and bright red sweatpants. You bite back a smile, because that’s so him.

“Your outfit is doing a great job of seducing me,” you jest, and he shrugs with a cocky grin.

“I know no woman can resist a Christmas sweater.”

He pulls you into him with a hand around your waist, his lips crashing into yours in a deep kiss. You notice he’s more frantic, less careful than he usually is, his fingers digging into the fabric of your dress as his hands slide up your back. He pulls away, breathless and flushed, and just looks at you for a moment. You can see the shift in his eyes, yearning swimming all over his brown orbs.

Clumsily, he shuts off the lights behind him then switches on the fairy lights adorning his bookshelf, his left hand still firmly clutching your body. Until it suddenly loosens, and you cock your head to the side.

“Okay, you gotta leave,” he says, and you follow his gaze, landing on Dori, who stares up at him almost defiantly. Minho lets out a sigh, opening his door before walking toward the cat and motioning toward the exit as if he will understand him. “Come on, I’ll give you treats later, hm? But you need to leave now, Dori.”

You fail to hold back a chuckle. “Why does the poor baby have to leave? He looks so comfortable snuggled up on the floor.”

“I can’t have sex while Dori watches,” he deadpans as if it were an obvious answer. “It’ll be weird.”

“Minho, it’s a cat. He doesn’t know what’s going on.”

“It’s still weird! And I…” He trails off, running a hand through his hair. He’s still facing the door when he blurts out, “I told you, I’m already really fucking nervous ‘cause it’s been a while since I’ve had sex. I might not be the best.”

You shake your head with a smile, crossing your arms over your chest. “Minho, that’s not possible.”

“Yes, it is!” He finally turns to face you. “Remember back in Japan? I came too fast, it was embarrassing. That’s why I never let you touch me.”

You jokingly pout at him. “Thought you just liked eating me out.”

“I fucking love eating you out, but I’m not exactly refusing that you do the same because I want to,” he explains, “I’m just scared I’ll be bad at it.”

You furrow your brows. “Bad at… getting a blowjob?”

Minho’s ears are dusted a light pink, and he throws his hands up. “Well, yes! Back in Japan I didn’t even know what to do with my hands. I don’t know what you like, and I haven’t been with anyone else to know what most people like so…” He lets out an exasperated sigh. “Fuck, I was so nervous that night, you have no idea.”

“You were nervous?” You let out a huff, recalling Minho’s clear shift in demeanor that night. “Looking into my eyes the entire time and pinning me down to the bed, that’s you being nervous?”

His entire face now flushes red, and he returns his gaze toward the door, where Dori paddles out of the room graciously. He promptly shuts the door, locking it this time.

“I was nervous,” He tells you, taking a step toward you. “I kept looking at you ‘cause I couldn’t believe that was actually happening. Felt like you were gonna disappear if I looked away,” His hands cup your face gently, and your lips unknowingly curl into a smile. “And when you looked at me in the morning, all I could think about was how awful I was the night before.”

You have to fight the strong urge to laugh because god, that’s why he was acting shy and avoiding your gaze. You berate yourself for even thinking otherwise, for ever assuming Minho could be like your ex-boyfriends. His words ring even more true than before.

You let out a groan, realizing you two have been putting off having sex for such mindless reasons. When he shoots you a questioning gaze, you simply say, “Minho, we’re both fucking idiots, d’you know that?”

And before he can say anything else or even entertain the idea of overthinking any more, you pull him into a kiss. With a surprised hum, Minho gently pushes you back, and your knees meet the softness of the mattress causing you to fall back into his bed. He climbs on top of you, pulling away from the kiss.

“You still gotta tell me what you like,” he repeats, his lips all but pouting at you. You smile up at him.

“No,” you say simply, pushing his hair back with your fingers as it fell into his eyes. “It’s better if we figure that out together, isn’t it?”

Minho chuckles, promptly pressing his lips to yours, your hand tugging at his hair gently as his tongue glides across your lips, causing a soft whine to slip from your throat before you can stop it.

“I like that,” he says between kisses, “When you make these pretty noises.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at his words and take that as your chance to take the first small step in healing, adding a post-it to your mind, reminding you not to suppress any noise that Minho coaxes out of you tonight.

The atmosphere in his room feels perfect — like heaven, as he would say. The soft yellow glow emanating from his bookshelf made everything seem dreamy; his honey skin looked stunning, and his eyes gleamed like the stars in the sky every time they met yours.

It was undoubtedly so much more intimate and passionate than any other time you had sex before, and you were both still fully clothed.

It was just like what Minho had told you many months ago.

His hands travel through your body until they rest on your back, finding the buttons of your dress, slowly opening each one as his lips trail down your neck, softly sucking on the skin. As he gingerly slides your dress down your torso, you realize that this will be the first time you two see each other naked. Yet, you don’t feel nervous. You want nothing more than to be close to him, with no barriers between you, to finally be tangled with him like the roots on the ground.

Minho unclasps your bra, his gaze unmoving from your chest as he slips the garment off of your skin and drops it on the floor. It’s almost as if you can feel his gaze burning you, your chest tightening and your breath hitching in your throat. He licks his lips, leaning down to wrap them around your nipple, his hand promptly finding your other breast and softly massaging it. You let out a choked gasp, tugging at his hair.

You feel his lips stretch into a smile before he softly bites the bud.

“So you like this,” He mumbles, pressing a wet kiss to your nipple. “Duly noted.”

You giggle at his words, your hands tangling in his hair once more. His kisses travel up again, from your chest to your neck, until he’s back to kissing your lips. Both of his hands now massage your breasts, alternating between rolling your nipples between his rough fingers and pinching them lightly, causing a rush to spread across your entire body. You feel your arousal trickle down your slit as you grow more desperate.

“Minho,” you call out between kisses, and he hums against your lips. “Do something,” you all but beg him, yearning for some release as you feel the small, unrelenting pulse between your thighs grow stronger with each stroke of his finger across your chest. Your hands now grasp at his sweater, tugging it over his head, the fabric also discarded somewhere on the floor of his room.

Your hands travel over the expanse of his chest, fingertips taking in every inch of his soft skin. Breaking away from his lips, you push him back softly so you can revel in the sight of him; his delicate collar bones, his strong arms, and soft stomach. He’s beautiful, breathtakingly so, and you don’t know what you did to be deserving of him.

“Enjoying the view?” He jokes, and you breathe out a laugh, your gaze flying up toward his face — his lips swollen, and his cheeks flushed a pretty red.

“Minho, you’re so beautiful,” you whisper absentmindedly, and he smiles at you, softly pressing his lips to yours.

“You should see how you look,” he whispers.

His left hand soon slips underneath your dress skirt, fingertips grazing your skin over your tights. You feel goosebumps trickle along your thighs following his every touch, so eager to feel his hands on your skin you’re sure you’ll rip your tights in half yourself if Minho doesn’t get rid of them soon.

He seems to grow as impatient as you, lifting your hips with a strong grip to slide down your dress, tights, and panties off of you all in one go. In no time, you are now laid bare before him, and Minho is swift to trail kisses down your stomach, sloppy and messy, painting your skin with his saliva as his mouth waters at the mere prospect of tasting you.

With a heavy sigh, he stares at your glistening wetness before promptly wrapping his lips around your clit without a warning and sucking, ardently, vulgar sounds filling his small room much like they do every time he eats you out. Always messy, always eager, humming against your pussy and sighing as his eyes glaze over with pure want.

You squirm like lighting has shocked through your entire body. No matter how often you experience the satisfaction of Minho’s lips on you, it always leaves you trembling like it’s the first time. His right hand slides up the expanse of your stomach until it reaches your breast again, his thumb lazily circling your nipple. You purse your lips as his fingers tentatively trail across your folds, spreading your wetness up to your clit before lapping at it slowly, the small bud swollen and aching.

You’re quick to remember to open your mouth, letting out the heavy sigh that had stuck to your throat as his finger enters you, Minho still licking and sucking your sensitive clit, nipping harshly and making your sigh fade into a whine. Hand tangling in his hair and tugging, you elicit a low groan from his throat, which you feel reverberate through your slick folds.

Your thighs shake as he adds a second finger, and soon a third, thrusting them inside of you and stroking your walls more vigorously than he usually does, as if he somehow also feels your pleasure and needs to lead you to your high as quickly as possible.

Minho’s hand leaves your chest, and you bite back a pout, his fingers now gripping your hips before pushing them up so he can reach deeper. It isn’t long before his fingers drag across the spot inside of you that has your muscles tensing up, a strangled moan falling from your lips at the sensations coupled with the unrelenting feeling of his tongue on your clit. You come undone around his fingers and lips with a harsh tug of his black hair, rutting your hips against his face desperately, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as you do.

He laps up your juices as you slowly come down from your high, tongue flicking inside of you and sucking hard before he presses a long kiss to your cunt. Your entire body jerks in response to the overstimulation.

His kisses travel toward your inner thigh, your lower stomach and breasts until he reaches your neck, where his teeth nip at the soft skin, sucking harshly before his tongue soothingly licks at the spot. As Minho positions himself between your thighs again, you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. Your mind goes hazy for a beat as you feel the thick outline of his cock press against your bare core.

“Minho,” you call out again, your voice significantly more whiny this time around, shaky and breathless, “Wanna taste you.”

He groans against your skin, pressing small kisses up your neck until he ultimately stops against your open lips. He breathes out a heavy sigh.

“Really want that, too,” he rasps out, voice hoarse as his dark eyes travel across your face. “But I really wanna fuck you. Shit, I need to fuck you so badly you have no idea,” He groans. You feel his length jump at his words as he presses your foreheads together and locks his gaze with you. “That’ll be hard to do if your pretty lips go anywhere near my cock.”

You breathe out a chuckle, pressing a small kiss to his lips. “Then get to it,” you simply say.

Minho’s lips curl into a grin. “Will you remember to be quiet for me this time? My baby sounded so pretty coming around my fingers.”

Your cheeks flush, just how loud you were before only now dawning on you. Fuck. Your words get stuck to your throat, your mouth opening but making no sound, so you settle for a nod.

He chuckles. “Good,” he replies with a kiss to your agape lips.

Minho sits up, detangling himself from your body briefly. He reaches for the box on his bedside table, scrambling with the cardboard before clumsily tearing it open and retrieving a condom. It’s only then you notice how his hands are trembling, from nervousness or pure lust. Either way, you find yourself smiling at the sight.

You reach out to run a hand along his arm soothingly, watching with hungry eyes as he tugs at his drawstrings before freeing his cock from the confines of his sweatpants. Minho hisses as he rolls the rubber over his length, shaky hands stroking himself one, two, three times, all while you eye him, watching greedily as if you were his own personal captive audience.

He lowers himself once again, hand now sliding across the length of your thigh before gripping the flesh, nails digging into your skin as he eyes you with an almost pleading gaze.

“Can I—”

“Please do,” you answer, almost frantically, before he even has the time to assume you might say no. You inch your thighs apart even more so Minho can slot himself perfectly between them.

Your mouth waters as you catch sight of him gripping his cock once more, tapping it against your swollen clit and eliciting a whine from your lips as your hands scramble to find purchase in his strong arms. Minho’s eyes then find yours much like they did back in Japan, and you know you are done for. His dark gaze once again felt all-consuming — desire and adoration swimming along his brown eyes, looking at you as if he were in a daze. Your grip on his arms tightens as he lazily slides his cock up and down your soaked slit, coating himself in your arousal. Minho’s lips fall open as he continues his movements, the blunt head of his cock gliding along your folds almost painfully slow.

He leans in to close the small gap between your lips, before whispering something you can’t quite understand against them.

“I fucking love you,” he repeats himself more clearly, and finally pushes forward, his girth pushing into you as you gasp, feeling as if all the air has been stolen from you.

You aren’t sure if your reaction is due to his words, or the way his cock is working you open so good, or maybe it was a delicious blend of the two. All you know at the moment is Minho, Minho, Minho, your mind foggy as his name rings inside your head like a mantra.

“Don’t gotta say anything back,” he tells you in a breathy voice, “Just want you to know I love— Fuck,” he groans as he is now fully sheathed inside of you, and you clench at both the feeling and the words spilling from his lips. Of course he would choose now to tell you he loved you. “Love you so much, so much I’d do anything for you. Would wage a war with the world if you asked me to…” He babbles, words slipping past his lips like they were the easiest thing for him to say. Like he meant it so deeply, he didn’t have to put any thought into it. His words only die as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your lips.

Minho pulls his hips back in one swift motion, hands lifting your thighs around his body as he thrusts into you, evoking a rather loud noise from the back of your throat which is smothered by his kiss.

“You take me so well,” he growls against your lips, “We fit perfectly.” He breaks the kiss to look down at where your two bodies are connected. It felt as if you were one, melting into each other little by little the more Minho thrust his cock inside of you. You simply nod, mind even more dizzy with the way he’s already pulling out again before slamming back into you, his pace quickening as he presses you into the mattress.

Your nails dig into his skin, crescent moon shapes blooming over the expanse of his honey skin. His eyes still bore into you, hips now thrusting at an unrelenting pace, his small room filled with a cacophony of wet sounds, whines tumbling from your parted lips and curses that almost silently fell from his.

“Gonna come soon,” Minho chokes out, his eyebrows furrowing, “I’m sorry, I—”

You silence him with a press of your lips, hands now tangling in his messy hair.

“You’re always so good to me,” you tell him, feeling his cock pulse inside of your walls. “Wanna be good to you too, make you feel good.”

And he simply leans down before kissing you reverently. The sound of his skin slapping against yours mixed with the creaking of his bed likely much too loud, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. At least not at the moment. Not with the way his hand snakes along your hips, rough fingers now rolling delicious circles around your clit while his other palm presses down onto your abdomen, and his cock continuously hits a spot inside of you that has you all but crumbling apart underneath him.

Your mouth falls open, breaking the kiss, his cock twitching inside of you as his body stills on top of you. With furrowed brows and agape lips, Minho comes mere seconds before you reach your high as well, toes curling against his back as you melt onto his cock.

You stay that way for a while — a few seconds, maybe minutes — simply looking at each other as your labored breaths intertwine.

You finally reach up, brushing his dampened hair away from his beautiful eyes that now look at you as if you were the sole reason why the stars sparkle. Minho’s fingers soon find yours, tangling together as he brings your hands to his lips and presses a chaste kiss to your knuckles.

You smile.

You love him.

It’s not a realization but rather a confirmation of something you’ve already known all too well and for far too long. You still can’t put it into words, but somehow, you are certain that he knows just as well.

Minho accidentally awoke you in the morning with his habit of slamming his door shut, apologizing as you grumbled at him and insisted you would only accept his apology if he let you give him a blowjob. He laughed, simply pulling you closer to him on the bed as he sat up and you finally gave the most beautiful man you had ever met the head he deserved.

Minho’s parents and grandmother had left to eat at a fancy restaurant, and after lying through his teeth and telling his very distraught mother that you were feeling too sick to leave the bed, you two stayed behind. They didn’t have to know the real reason you couldn’t leave the bed — Minho and his apparent insatiable hunger for you. It was as if something had been awoken inside him now that he had a taste of you, and he had to make up for all the lost time.

You two only leave his room late in the afternoon, the sun setting on the pale winter sky outside his bedroom window. His family would arrive soon, and you needed to get ready for their tradition of opening Christmas presents while watching bad holiday movies.

When Minho followed you when you headed toward the bathroom, you thought little of it. It was only when he began undressing alongside you that panic truly set in.

“We literally had sex, why do you sound so horrified?” Was all he offered you when you asked what he was doing before entering the steamy shower with you.

It was your first time showering with someone, and the fact that it made you so nervous felt almost pathetic. Minho was right; you had sex, and you saw each other naked and sweaty and vulnerable. This shouldn’t be any different.

Except it was.

You found yourself too awkward to wash yourself, doing a terrible job at pretending to scrub at your arms as you watched Minho shower like a normal person. He let out a chuckle after rinsing his hair, shaking his head.

“Are you seriously shy? Seriously?” He asked, turning your body around so your back faced him. “The girl who begged to suck my cock just this morning is too shy to shower in front of me?”

You opened your lips to refute him, but your words died in your mouth as you felt Minho’s hand spread shampoo all over your hair. His fingers gently massaged your scalp before placing his hand over your eyes to shield them from the foam as he rinsed your hair. He repeated the process with conditioner, then moved on to wash your body with his almost sickly sweet watermelon body wash. He did it all while humming, making you so relaxed and comfortable that all your silly insecurities dissipated in the air along with the steam from the hot water.

Suffice to say, showering without Minho would now be a sad affair.

You are now sitting on the floor before the television, his family exchanging gifts. Dori purred on your lap, and Soonie bit Minho’s socks, trying his best to remove the fabric from his feet. It’s finally time for you two to exchange gifts, and you’re a bit glad his family seemed to be so immersed in the movie because you know you would combust if you had to explain your gift to them.

“Here,” you hand him an orange box with a black bow. “It’s stupid. Now that I think about it, it’s probably such a fucking dumb gift. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and Eunha even made one for her sister. I almost stole hers ‘cause it turned out much better than mine—”

“My god,” Minho interrupts you with a hearty laugh, taking the box in his hands and inspecting it. “It’s been a while since you word vomited so much. What the hell did you get me that made you so nervous?”

He pulls on the bow, unraveling it before taking the black fabric in his hands and tying it around your head. He laughs once more, and you roll your eyes.

“Minho, just get to it before I snatch this box from you.”

With one last chuckle, he finally opens the box. He stills as he takes in the notebook, sitting on top of far too much wrapping tissue paper. The cat print cardstock paper was a pain to find, but it’s worth it now as you watch Minho’s lips curl into a smile as his fingers gingerly travel through the cover. It was crooked, a bit too small, and still reeked of bookbinding glue, but it reminds you of the day you met Minho, and that was all you thought about when you decided on this gift.

“You fucking bound me a notebook,” he says, still bewildered.

“Took me a while, but I did say I was gonna do it. I’m a woman of my word.”

Minho looks up at you, his smile reaching his eyes and turning them into the pretty crescent moons you love so much. “I love it,” he beams, hands now squeezing your cheeks as he pulls you into a small kiss. “This and that coffee stained notebook are going on my bookshelf back in my dorm, displayed in all their glory.”

Minho pulls away and reaches toward two small boxes on the coffee table. He clears his throat, handing you one box as he settles the other on his lap.

“I thought of you when I saw this on my Instagram feed,” he simply says, fingers toying with the misshaped bow on top of the box — one very similar to the one on your birthday gift many months ago. “Thought about what we talked about in Japan, y’know, about soulmates.”

You raise a brow at him, quickly undoing the bow on your box as curiosity washes over you. You pick up a bracelet made only of red thread, eyeing it curiously.

Minho retrieves the same bracelet from his own box, putting it on before asking, “Have you heard of the red string of fate?”

“That myth that a thread connects two people meant to be together?” You question.

He nods. “Exactly. I feel like that was us,” He explains, taking the red bracelet from your hands and slipping it around your wrist before gently tightening the thread. “Feel like all our little coincidences were little threads tying us together until we met.”

You feel the tears well up in your eyes, but you don’t bother trying to hide or stop them this time. Grabbing Minho’s hand that stilled around your wrist, you lace your fingers together, admiring your matching bracelets. It could only be fate. Every small detail that aligned and every road you two crossed to reach the place where you are now could only have come to be because fate wanted it to be that way.

Out of every city you could have lived in, every different university you could have chosen to attend, down to every other seat that could have been empty on the day you met Minho — everything fell into place like a puzzle piece, exactly as if a long, invisible string tied you to him and finally decided it was time to pull you together.

Minho’s gentle touch brushes against your cheek as he silently wipes your tears — no words are needed between you two at that moment as he smiles softly at you while you feel your eyes burn from the cry you had held back for so long. And, as if you’re his mirror, you feel yourself smile as his lips upturn into a grin when his gaze shifts to the open window.

“It’s snowing,” he beams. “It’s the first snow of the year, and our first snow together.”

 

You stand in front of Minho’s house, the light snow falling softly and covering your heads in white as he kisses you, only stopping to grumble against your lips.

“Your phone’s going crazy in my pocket,” He pouts, and you furrow your brows. You had already sent your family holiday messages, and your friends were all busy with their own Christmas celebrations, so you were clueless about who it could be.

“Can you check it for me?”

Minho nods, untangling himself from your embrace just enough to reach into his pocket and grab your phone to unlock it.

“There’s like fifty new messages from a group chat. Best Fucking Five?” He chuckles lightly at the name, his chilly breath tickling your cheek.

You, on the other hand, immediately frowned as you heard the name. It’s a long-forgotten group chat with your old friend group from high school. You had all stopped talking a little before graduation, with you especially distancing yourself from them upon realizing their toxic words and reactions to your relationships only served to make you feel worse about yourself. No one bothered to leave or delete the group since it quietly died and had stayed that way for over three years now.

Minho hands you the phone, and you click another notification that pops up as soon as you unlock the device.

The conversation began with your former friend sending a screenshot of one of your ex-boyfriend’s newest Instagram post. You skim through the caption and blanch at the words accompanied by a sonogram picture. His girlfriend is pregnant, and he’s over the moon about it.

And you, for some reason, find yourself laughing so much you have to clutch onto Minho’s shoulder as your stomach starts to hurt.

He shoots you an understandably puzzled look, but you can’t stop the giggles that spill from your lips, so you settle on showing him the screenshot. 

“I got the best Christmas gift tonight,” Minho reads from the screen. “I'm going to be a dad, and the most wonderful woman I’ve ever known is the mother,” he trails off with a questioning lilt, brows furrowing as that had only confused him more.

“It’s one of my exes,” you manage to tell him after catching your breath.

Minho hums, taking your hands and shoving them in his overcoat pocket along with your phone.

“And why did that make you lose your mind laughing?” He asks with a small smile.

“I guess it was the shock, really. It also made me realize just how little I care about him now. All of them, actually. Every time I was broken up with or had my heart broken in some way, it honestly felt like the end of the world,” you explain, “Like my heart would never recover and like I would hate them for the rest of my life. For years I had such a strong ax to grind with them, and that hatred and grudge only caused me harm. It made me hate love, and it made me blame myself.”

Minho nods, pressing his forehead to yours. Around you two, the snow got thicker, and only the distant sounds of children laughing from neighboring houses could be heard throughout the quiet street.

“But it’s different now?”

You smile up at him. “It’s different now, and I only just realized that. These people are no longer people I hate. They’re simply their words and their actions toward me, but they, as people, mean nothing to me.”

Minho smiles and wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. This realization makes you feel lighter, like a small part of the weight of healing has been removed from the equation. It’s only you and yourself now; none of them has any power over your emotions anymore.

“Maybe we should send the baby a present,” you joke, and Minho buries his head in the crook of your neck with a chuckle, and you jump as his cold nose brushes against your skin.

“Maybe we should.”

At that moment, in the arms of this amazing man who has helped you more than he will ever know, you realize that love truly isn’t bad. People can be bad, circumstances can be catastrophic, and wrong timing can destroy nearly everything. But love is, at the core of it all, good.

“Minho,” you call out, feeling him hum against your skin before lifting his head to look at you. “I love you,” you say simply.

His smile rivals every pretty thing around you. The first snow, the gleaming Christmas decorations, and even the moon herself pale in comparison to the smile that Minho gives you.

“I love you, too,” he replies, a tangible sense of bliss in his voice, as if he has yearned for a lifetime to finally be able to say those words to you.

You wrap your arms tighter around Minho, and your fingers brush against the red thread that adorns your wrist. It truly feels as if fate had led you to Minho, leaving little clues along the way to make sure you both knew when you finally met. His journey to you had been relatively easy, while yours had been heart-wrenching, but in the end, it had brought you heaven.

If soulmates really are a thing, there is not an ounce of doubt in your being that Minho is yours. More than anything, he taught you that love is present in everything around you. Love is being kind to others like Minho is kind to his family and strangers in convenience stores at midnight. Love is staying up with your best friend while she cries on the couch, not expecting anything in return. Love is the laughter of little kids on Christmas night echoing throughout a neighborhood. Love is also going out on your own, doing something simply because it will make you happy, and being kind to yourself. All this time, you held onto the belief that love is destructive and only leads to sadness, oblivious to the fact that it has surrounded you every step of the way.

Love is everywhere and in everything.

In the end, Minho had always been right.

Love is the most amazing thing in life.

♡ taglist: @notevenheretbh1, @malunar28replies, @jazziwritesthings, @finchyyy, @bloom-ings, @linocz, @minhochaos, @lastgreatamericandynasty1, @missminhoe, @jungkookies1002, @meanergreener

[supernovafics]

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 4.2k words

warnings: : explicit language, mentions of weed/being high, nothing else really?

summary: you haven’t even known steve for twenty-four hours, but sure, why not pretend to date for a month?

CHAPTER TWO | ❝𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒏 𝒍��𝒗𝒆❞

Fall Semester 2015

Later, you would wonder what to attribute it to. 

Was it because of the way he smiled at you? Because of the way his knee lightly brushed against yours? Or was it the weed that made your mind hazy and made you realize things that you probably wouldn’t have recognized if you were sober? 

You weren’t sure, but you knew that things were changing for you, shifting into something deeper.

You’d only been friends with Eddie for a month, but it felt like so much longer. He was quickly and easily becoming your closest friend; best friend, even. You thought back to the late-night conversations you’d have in his roommate-free dorm room where you both told each other things that no one else knew— fears that felt stupid and completely irrational, and embarrassing stories from childhood that were previously meant to be taken to your respective graves. Somehow, almost immediately after the moment in the elevator, nothing ever felt awkward between you two again. Everything just felt right. 

“This one’s probably my favorite,” Eddie said as a new song started playing, which pulled you out of your thoughts. He reached out to grab his phone and turned the volume up as high as it could go. He had already gotten a noise complaint from the RA about playing his speakers too loud so he opted for using his phone instead to show you some of his favorite songs from a band he really liked but you hadn’t heard of.

You nodded at his words, focusing on them rather than the feel of his knee still brushing yours. The two of you were sitting across from each other on his bed and his phone sat in the middle, playing the unfamiliar song that you actually found yourself liking a lot. You hadn’t been sitting this close to one another at first, and you couldn’t recall who had made the first move forward to close some of the distance.

“I like this one,” You said, recrossing your legs so that you were no longer touching him. The subtle touch was starting to make your mind shortcircuit a bit and you felt way too close to saying something that you probably shouldn’t have. 

He gave you an amused smile. “Does that mean you didn’t like the others?”

You looked away from him then and leaned back, head easily finding one of his pillows. “No comment.”

You heard his laugh in response, which made you smile and you shut your eyes for a second, reveling in the sweet sound. 

It was everything, You’d finally decide later when you were a lot less high and much more in control of your thoughts. Every little thing that he’d do that you were on the receiving end of. That certain kind of smile that felt as if it was reserved only for you coupled with the neverending niceness that showed how much he cared about you— he’d let you take his bed whenever you had to spend the night in his room because your roommate was being the worst, and he’d always offer to walk with you to whatever building your first class was in the mornings, even though it was in the opposite direction of where he needed to be. 

You liked him. A lot. Maybe too much. And you had no idea what you would do about that. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 2018

You: Is the offer still on the table?

You: Oh and I’m talking about the fake dating thing (if you somehow forgot) 

Anything that resembled regret had yet to settle in, and at this point, you wondered if it ever would. 

Yes, you felt a little embarrassed about backtracking and suddenly wanting to go along with Steve’s idea that you had initially been so adamant about not doing— and you had a feeling that he’d say something equivalent to an “I told you so” because of that. But still, you didn’t regret bringing it up again and asking him. Your mind was still telling you that doing this was worth a shot and maybe just maybe it would actually end up being a good thing. 

You knew that doing this could potentially ruin everything— just like you thought that everything would be ruined if you outwardly admitted your feelings for Eddie and they weren’t reciprocated— but this fake dating thing felt like the best way to finally do something about your crush without directly “professing your love” and possibly fucking up the friendship in the process. 

You had waited until you were back in your apartment before you texted Steve. And now you stared at your phone for a second longer, looking at those two new messages sit in the very small text chain you two already had, which consisted of short and formal messages that were very evident of two people who did not know each other at all. In a way, it was a bit comical because you still barely knew this guy, yet somehow you were willing to pretend to date him. 

As you were about to set your phone down next to you on your desk and attempt to focus on an assignment that you needed to finish sooner rather than later, your phone was ringing in your hand and Steve’s name was taking over your screen. 

After the briefest moments of hesitation, you swiped to answer the call and placed your phone at your ear. “Hello?” 

“Hey,” Steve said. “So, what changed?” 

You didn’t expect him to get straight to the point— you also didn’t really expect him to immediately call you— but you had to admit it made sense; this would probably be easier to talk about out loud rather than through texts. 

“A lot’s changed, actually… I think you’re right, this fake dating thing could work, and it also might actually be the best thing to do.” You took a breath and shut your eyes before blurting out your next words. “Also, I may or may not have already told Eddie that we really hit it off last night and we’re planning to go on another date. And I’ll admit, if I hadn’t been high, I probably wouldn’t have said that to him, but I honestly still don’t think this is a bad idea. But, if you really don’t wanna do it anymore, I completely understand. Because it’s definitely an insane thing to do and probably a little weird too, maybe, and yeah… Sorry, I’m just rambling now.” 

You forced yourself to stop talking and waited for Steve to say something. At first, he was quiet, probably processing everything that you had just said. And what prevailed for the next few moments was the kind of silence that felt as if it lasted forever— when, in reality, it was probably only a second or two. 

“I still wanna do it.”

You were inwardly sighing in relief at his words and you actually smiled a little.  

“Okay,” You felt yourself nodding even though he couldn’t see you.

“Okay, so we should probably talk about it more to figure it all out, right? Are you free later?” 

“Yeah, I’ll text you my address.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You and Steve agreed to meet at seven; it was your suggestion because that would give you some time to actually focus on the school stuff you needed to do. However, that was much easier said than done because after you hung up with him, all you were able to think about was him and the fake dating plan and every little thing about it. How easily and quickly it consumed your mind almost felt concerning, but you’d never done anything like this before so you couldn’t help but think about even the smallest of details for it. 

A series of knocks rapping against your bedroom door pulled you out of your thoughts. You let out a loud enough “Yeah” and then you saw Robin entering your room seconds later.

“Hey, me and Vickie have to go see this play for one of our classes. It’s some free thing that the drama students are putting on, and apparently, it’s actually supposed to be pretty good.” She shrugged. “Anyway, it starts at eight. You wanna come too?” 

You almost said yes because that was exactly the kind of thing you wouldn’t have minded spending a Saturday night doing, you would’ve also texted Eddie to see if he wanted to come too. But then you remembered where you needed to be in half an hour, and you didn’t fully understand how it easily just slipped from your mind when it had been the only thing you could think about for the past few hours. 

“I can’t tonight. I’m actually, um, seeing Steve again.” 

“Ooh, really?” Robin stepped all of the way into your room then, shutting the door behind her and sitting at the foot of your bed. “So last night was good? You barely wanted to talk about it when you came home. I was pretty sure that it went shitty, but I didn’t wanna press you on it.” 

“No, yeah, it was good, actually. I was just way too tired to talk a lot about it last night,” You said with a quick shrug and then attempted to shift the conversation away from Steve. “Also, I was so invested in hearing you guys ramble about the reality show you watched.”

“Wait, seeing someone two days in a row is kind of a huge deal,” She said; your attempt at changing the subject failing. “If things start getting too serious between you guys, I’m gonna have to give him the parental third degree. I don’t care that Talia is older. I really wanna do it.”

You laughed a bit at her seriousness. “Okay, fine, yes, you can do it if it comes to that.” 

“Thank you, that’s all I ask for,” She smiled at you, and then things were quiet for a few moments before she asked, “So, you really like him?” 

You felt the sudden urge to tell her everything— how you’ve felt about Eddie for the past few years, how she had been the only person that you’d ever gotten close to telling that to, and how you were about to start this fake dating thing with Steve— but you couldn’t do it. You knew that it would just open up a huge can of worms and make everything even more complicated than it already felt. 

“Yeah, I think I do,” You said instead of the truth. 

“That’s great,” She said, smiling wider. “You’re breaking the single curse that has plagued us for the past, what is it, year at this point?” 

“What ever happened to that girl you were into last semester?” 

Robin shrugged. “We hung out a few times, but I don’t know, something just didn’t feel right.” 

The sound of the squeaky front door of the apartment opening and subsequently closing and then multiple voices entering the apartment halted your conversation for a moment. 

“I think that’s probably Talia’s study group.” 

You let out a laugh. “I feel like saying study group is a stretch.” 

The said “study group” consisted of a handful of Talia’s Psych major friends. They met up most Saturdays and would only “study” for an hour, and then the rest of the night was spent watching true crime documentaries in the living room. 

“So, what are you and Steve doing tonight? Do you want some outfit support? I can grab Vickie to help real quick too.”

You glanced down at the plain jeans and black V-neck sweater you were wearing that was a bit cropped; it was the same thing that you’d worn to Eddie’s earlier. “I think I’m just gonna wear this. We’re just hanging out at his place.”

“Oh,” Robin said, nodding. “Okay, everything I said last night about making sure to use protection still very much stands.” 

“Ew, Robs, stop,” You shook your head. “I’m feeling very tempted to get Vickie right now and have her hit you on the arm again.” 

She laughed as she stood up from your bed and headed toward your shut door. “I’ll take that as my cue to leave then. Have fun tonight!”

“Thanks,” You said, breaking your eyes from hers and turning back to look at the textbook you had opened on your desk that hadn’t been touched in hours. 

She closed the door behind her and you let out a soft breath. It didn’t really occur to you that lying to pretty much everyone in your life would be the hardest part of all of this. 

You grabbed your phone to find the last text Steve sent you, which was just his address. You figured that wherever he lived couldn’t be too far away and it wouldn’t be that much of a walk to get to him; the walk to and from Eddie’s place never took more than ten minutes. The most popular off-campus apartments, one of which you lived at, were spread out across a few streets close to the main part of campus and were all basically right next to each other; you assumed that Steve lived at one of them. 

Finally looking at his address, though, let you know how wrong you were. He lived close to thirty minutes away from you— and that was just by car, you didn’t even bother looking at what the walk would’ve been like. He also lived in an apartment building that you had never been to— you were rarely over by that side of town at all— but you knew that it was a small but insanely expensive building that only rich kids lived in. You remembered briefly looking up the place during your apartment hunt with Robin and Vickie and seeing the outrageous prices for three and four-bedroom apartments that only had one bathroom. You could rent two of the apartments you currently had at those prices, and you at least had your own bathroom here. 

Somehow, you actually weren’t that surprised to see that Steve lived there. You thought back to last night and his car, a vintage dark red BMW that looked perfect and probably cost a fortune to keep that way. 

You were calling him immediately and he answered after the second ring, speaking before you got the chance to. “You’re backing out of this, aren’t you?”

He sounded so certain that it honestly managed to annoy you a bit. “No, I’ve actually been thinking about this a lot so far, like the logistics and stuff and whatever. I’m calling because I didn’t realize how far you live from me and I need you to pick me up.” 

“Oh, okay,” He paused for a second. “Should we just do this at your place?” 

For a moment, you considered his words, but then, as if on cue, you heard the loud sounds of Talia’s friends laughing in the living room. And then you thought about how Robin and Vickie wouldn’t be leaving for the play for at least another hour and you really weren’t ready for Steve to get any sort of an introduction to everyone just yet. “No way, it’s kind of a madhouse right now.” 

“Ah, yes, I forgot that you have six thousand roommates,” He joked, and you actually cracked a small smile at that. “I’ll be there in thirty.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Somehow, Steve was at your place in twenty minutes and you were in the middle of finally getting somewhere for your assignment when you got his “I’m here” text. 

“So, you’ve been thinking about this a lot?” He asked as he turned the radio down a bit; you two had only been driving for a minute or so. When you nodded and said a simple “Yeah” in response, he continued. “Can I hear your thoughts?” 

For a second, you thought about where you should start, but your thoughts felt a little too messy to put into a super succinct order, so you just started talking. 

“Okay, so we need to decide how long we’re gonna do this. I don’t think we should drag it out too much, y’know? Maybe just like a month or so? And we obviously need to talk about how affectionate we’re gonna be with each other around other people, specifically Eddie. Also, do you think that all of this will seem really weird and fake because of how rushed everything’s gonna be between us? Oh, and what’s your parent situation about? I’m gonna have to meet them, right? So that you can prove to them that your “girlfriend” exists,” You went on and on, listing everything on your fingers until you two were stopped at a red light and you noticed the amused look on Steve’s face, which made you stop mid-ramble. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

He shook his head and shrugged. “I just think it’s a little funny how you were so against this whole thing last night, but you’re really into it now.”

You rolled your eyes at that. “I’ve never done something like this before, and aside from the occasional assignment, I hate half-assing shit, so of course, I’m gonna think about every little thing.” 

He held up his hands in mock surrender, still smiling at you. “Okay, got it.” 

The light turned green and his focus went back on driving. Things became quiet just for a second before he started talking again. 

“I think you’re right, a month should be enough time. If he’s gonna get jealous about us “being together” it’ll definitely happen sooner rather than later, so it would be dumb of us to do this for really long,” He explained and you were nodding along to his words. “And the PDA stuff around him doesn’t need to be excessive or anything; probably just hand-holding and simple stuff like that will be good. Also, I’m pretty sure every college relationship seems rushed, so this won’t feel any different from that.”

Maybe Steve had been thinking a lot about this too, or maybe he’d done something like this before. You weren’t sure which option would’ve been more surprising to you, but either way, you were realizing how right he was about everything he had just said; especially the last thing, which was what you'd been the most worried about. Your mind traveled back to the earliest stages of Eddie’s relationship with Chrissy, which you had pretty much a front-row seat to. How attached they became to each other after only their first few dates definitely felt abrupt and surprising to you, but it never felt rushed or fake. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” You said to Steve as you nodded again.

You two were in his apartment sitting in his living room when he finally decided to mention his parents. Steve was on the couch and you were on the floor because you were leaning over his coffee table with a notebook opened in front of you. It had been a mutual decision to write down all of the rules and stuff that you both came up with for the “fake dating plan” after you realized that there was a lot of thought going into this thing and you didn’t want anything that either of you said to be forgotten in a day or two. Steve pulled out an old notebook for you to write in; it was mostly full of past Economics notes, but it had a handful of empty pages toward the end. 

Everything he told you about his parents sounded like the plot of a movie or a book, and it was both surprising and fascinating to hear that shit like that actually happened in real life. Apparently, they were super intense about him settling down and getting into a serious relationship, so they were constantly trying to set him up with someone. They wanted him to be in a relationship that would lead to marriage by the time he graduates, and then married by twenty-four or twenty-five.

You truly couldn’t imagine your own parents caring that much about your love life, but apparently, rich people liked to do things differently. Steve hadn’t blatantly told you that he was rich, but he didn’t need to outwardly say it for you to know just how true that was. Case in point, his apartment was huge and really nice and you had tried your hardest not to look entirely awestruck by it when you first walked in, and he casually mentioned having to eventually take over “the family company;” which was also another reason why his parents were so intense about the whole marriage thing. Apparently, family businesses couldn’t be considered as such if the boss was single and a player. 

“I like being single and not getting involved in anything serious at all, but they really want me to settle down right now,” Steve finished his explanation. “So if they think that I finally have a girlfriend, they’ll get off my back for a while.”

You let out a small laugh. “I knew it.” 

“Knew what?”

“That you do that kind of thing all of the time. Going on dates and stuff,” You said, placing the pen you had in hand down on the notebook. You leaned back against the couch and looked up at him. “And it honestly makes sense. Pretty face, good at flirting, and big charmer. Girls probably love that shit.”

“Did you?” He asked, smiling at you. You almost rolled your eyes at how he almost too easily went back to flirting with you; now you realized it was probably just second nature for him. 

“If I wasn’t pining for someone else, I might’ve fallen for it.”

“Good to know that my charms still somewhat work then.”

You were suddenly thinking about an alternate universe where you had no feelings for Eddie and you really did end up liking Steve after the date last night. Would you have felt heartbroken that he never called you again or that he didn’t want something serious or long-term? You immediately pushed those thoughts away because the hypothetical answer really didn’t matter. You focused your mind on something else. 

“I’m only gonna be your “girlfriend” for a month, though, so how’s that gonna keep your parents from pestering you for longer than that?”

“I was thinking that I’d tell them that we’ve been together for three or four months, but that I didn’t want to mention you to them until things felt “serious.” They probably will want to meet you,” Steve said, and you nodded because you figured as such. “And then when I tell them that we’re over, I’ll say that it ended in some sort of fucked up way, and that will maybe get them to stop trying to set me up with their friends’ daughters for a while. Hopefully, at least, until the end of the summer.”

“You’re gonna make me a cheater, aren’t you?”

“Probably, yeah,” He responded with a quick shrug. “It’s either do that or be forced to go to the Hamptons for the whole summer and get set up with my future wife because they think I broke up with you or we ended things mutually but I’m still ready to be in a committed and long-term relationship.”

“They need to think you’re heartbroken,” You concluded for him.

“Exactly,” Steve nodded. “My dad probably won’t give a shit about the cheating, but my mom will and she’s the one that’s been the most adamant about the Hamptons thing.”

“Okay, in that case, I’m okay with you making me a cheater,” You said and then looked away from him, focusing back on the notebook. “This whole cheating talk has made me think of another rule to add that should probably be really obvious, but I think I need to put it anyway.” You picked up the pen again and wrote down, No dating other people while we do this. “I’m sorry, I know this will probably be really hard for you.” 

Steve rolled his eyes at your mostly joking words. “I wasn’t planning on doing anything. I know that if Eddie or one of your roommates saw me with someone else it would mess everything up.” 

“Yeah, exactly,” You said, glad that you two were on the same page about that. And you were now realizing that you two had actually been on the same page about pretty much everything you’d been talking about for the last hour. “Okay, and final thing— no matter what happens, we’re gonna go our separate ways once the month is up. Even if the plan doesn’t work or whatever else, we have to end it after a month.” 

Steve nodded. “Yeah, agreed.”

You wrote that last thing down and then closed the notebook.

“Okay, that’s it. We’re officially fake dating now, I guess,” You looked up at Steve again and held out your hand toward him. He laughed for a second before grabbing your outstretched hand and you two shook for a second to “seal the deal.”

Once again, you waited. Waited for regret or something equivalent to start swirling deep down inside of you. But still, it wasn’t there. Maybe this actually was a good idea. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“Eddie’s band has a gig tomorrow night,” You said when Steve was parked outside of your apartment building, dropping you off at home. “Do you wanna come?” 

“Yeah, sounds good,” Steve answered with a quick nod. “It’ll be the first time he sees us “together.”” 

“Yeah, let’s hope this somehow works.”

“It will.” 

You really had no logical reason to trust how certain Steve sounded about everything right then, but you did anyway.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

next part!

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or taken off<333); @eddiernunson , @loulouloueh , @the-aster , @blckburd , @totally-bogus-timelady , @yujyujj , @irhdifartzamfyaa , @mochminnie , @munsonssweets , @blckbrrybasket

[toournextadventure]

oblivious

Summary: You've been Vada's roommate for a while now and she still has yet to notice that you have feelings for her. You hoped accepting a date with someone else would force her hand. In a way, it did

Word Count: 4.2k Warnings: swearing, smut 18+, weed and alcohol mention Pairing: Vada Cavell x Fem!Reader (no pronouns used) A/N: I'm still getting the hang of Vada's personality so y'all bear with me, but I'm workin on it, I'll get there

“Honey, I’m home,” Vada called out, stopping you in your tracks on the way to the bathroom.

You couldn’t help smiling at Vada’s ridiculous phrase that she had started using whenever she got back to the shared apartment. If you were being honest, you couldn’t remember when she had started it; it hadn’t been too long after you had first agreed to rent an apartment together with her friends Mia and Nick. All you knew was one day she practically crashed into the apartment, said her now-famous tagline, and it stuck.

The best part of it all? She only ever said it to you. Never to Mia, never to Nick, only to you. It made your crush on her grow each time, even though you certainly didn’t need the help. Just the words alone had your stomach twisting into knots in the most delicious way.

And that little dumbass didn’t even know what she was doing.

“Don’t you have another class?” You asked with a tilt of your head. It was a bit too early for her to be home, especially on a Tuesday.

“Skipped it,” she said with her cheesy grin that never failed to make your heart race. “Why take Lit when I can have you teach me?”

“That’s not how it works, V,” you chuckled. “I can’t give you credit.”

“But you can- are you getting in the shower?”

There it was; the attention change. It happened a bit sooner than usual, but you weren’t entirely surprised. At first you had been confused at Vada’s change of topic and attention at such a fast pace, but now it was expected. At least she looked cute.

“Yes I am,” you said with a nod. “Did the towel give it away?”

“It’s Tuesday,” Vada said, completely ignoring your attempt at teasing her. “You don’t shower on Tuesdays.”

Ah. So she did pay attention to a few things.

“I got asked on a date,” you shrugged.

“A date?” She asked incredulously. Rude. “With who?”

You sighed and leaned against the doorframe. “Know that guy from my Fluid Flow class? Jacob?”

“The one with the stupid lip piercing?”

“It’s not stupid,” you said with a huff. “But yes.”

“You agreed to go on a date with him?” Vada asked incredulously. “What happened to your standards?”

“It’s not like I’m getting asked on many dates,” you argued.

“But him?” She continued.

“Well who else should I go with?” You asked. “You?”

Vada froze, her mouth still flopping open at the revelation of your plans for the evening. You wanted her to tell you not to go. To say that yes, you should go on a date with her. Maybe you were being a bit cruel to just not tell her, but you wanted her to say something. Although in hindsight maybe you shouldn’t have expected Vada Cavell to pick up on all the signs you had given her.

Which were numerous.

She shifted her weight and looked down at her feet. You could see her scuffing the toe of her shoe into the floor, a nervous habit of hers. Part of you got hopeful; she was nervous, maybe she would finally say something. Hell, you would be happy if she simply said she didn’t want you to go.

“You should go shower,” she finally said, and you felt your heart drop. “I’ll help you pick out what to wear once you’re out.”

“Right,” you said with a sigh.

The entire time you were in the shower you were seething. No, not quite seething, you were disappointed. You knew it was a bit unrealistic of you to expect Vada to know how you were feeling, especially about her, but you couldn’t help it. How could she not see that you wanted her to ask you on a date? Yes you should just do it yourself, especially at this point, but you weren’t going to risk anything.

Your father would’ve just told you to task her on your own. You were the one with the feelings, you should ask. And he would have been right, you knew that, but you didn’t want to ask. What if Vada didn’t actually like you that way? She acted goofy with Mia and Nick too, so you couldn’t use that as justification for your hopes.

By the time you got out of the shower and finished getting ready, Vada was already waiting in your room. She was hanging her head upside down on the bed while scrolling through her phone. Her brows were scrunched in an adorable frown from whatever she was looking at. The minute she noticed you standing in the doorway, she smiled wide and sat up.

“About time,” she said as she stood up and went to your closet, “I’ve got the perfect thing for tonight.”

“Perfect as in “I’ll look great” or as in “it’ll get me laid?” Because there’s a difference,” you said as you sat down on the bed and waited for Vada to come out of the closet.

Ha. You might be disappointed, but at least you were still funny. See? That was what Vada was missing out on and she didn’t even know it!

“Perfect as in “he’d be stupid not to ask you out again”,” she said with a grin as she turned around to show you what she had picked.

“Vada that’s,” you exhaled slowly, “that’s the most mundane outfit I’ve got.”

“Which is why he’d be stupid not to ask you out again,” she said, tossing everything your way. “I won’t look, promise.”

“Gee, thanks,” you mumbled to yourself as you nonetheless stood up and got dressed.

Part of you was thankful Vada had picked out a regular outfit; at least it was comfortable, and that was always a plus. Did you think Jacob would ask you out again? Absolutely not, he was a frat boy, you knew he wouldn’t ask you out again the moment you decided you weren’t going to put out. At least you would be comfortable when you were rejected.

“How do I look?” You asked, and Vada turned around so quickly she nearly fell.

The moment she actually managed to focus on you, she fell into what looked like a daze. Her jaw dropped and her eyes were looking you up and down. And for a moment, she looked like she wanted to say something. Say it, you mentally urged her, tell me to stay. You played with your fingers and watched her with hopeful eyes.

“You’re so getting laid tonight,” she whispered.

“Yippee,” you said with another huff. She was getting a lot of those out of you tonight.

“You’d better get going,” she said as she practically pushed you out of your room toward the front door. “You don’t want to be late.”

“Thought you didn’t like Jacob?” You asked.

“I don’t, but I wanna watch a movie,” she said, now opening the front door. “And you’re not invited.”

“Well that’s just rude,” you said.

“Have fun!” Vada called out as she shut the front door in your face.

You just stood there in complete shock. Had you really just gotten kicked out of your own apartment by the girl you were quite possibly in love with? Simply because she wanted to watch a movie? It was so on par for Vada that you honestly weren’t even surprised.

The door opened again and you looked in, hopeful that Vada had changed her mind. She stood in the doorway and looked at you again. Please ask me to stay, you silently begged her. But then she pushed something into your arms, which you scrambled to hold onto.

“Forgot your phone and wallet,” she said before slamming the door shut again. “Have fun!”

“Oh fuck me,” you grumbled, but nonetheless put your phone and wallet in your back pocket and left the apartment.

—---

Life sucked. It sucked and it was out to get you personally. You could get over the fact that it had started raining on the walk over to the restaurant. Then there was the fact that you had gotten lost at least three times, but that could also be forgiven. And your phone dying? Well, that was also shitty even though you had forgotten to charge it at home, so it happened.

But then you got to the restaurant and sat at the bar, like you were supposed to, and waited. And then you ordered a drink and waited some more. And some more. And wouldn’t you know it, an hour and a half and three drinks later, you were closing your tab and heading back to the apartment. The apartment that you had been kicked out of by someone who was supposed to pick up on your cues.

There was just enough alcohol in your system to have you thoroughly pissed off by the time you got back to the apartment. You could smell the weed from out in the hallway and knew Vada was either high as a kite or well on her way to it. Normally you wouldn’t care; she was respectful with it and was, honestly, pretty adorable under the influence.

Unfortunately for Vada, it just wasn’t your night.

You unintentionally slammed the door shut behind you when you entered, leaning back against it to get yourself back under control. The music was loud and obnoxious and the smell of weed was giving you a headache. Or maybe it was the alcohol. Or maybe it was the fact you got stood up. Actually, maybe it was just everything.

“Nick?” Vada’s voice came from her room. At least she wasn’t smoking out in the living room like you had initially thought.

“Just me,” you called back before exhaling slowly and walking further into the apartment. The sloshing sound of your wet shoes on the floor was horrible.

“Y/N?” Something fell to the floor with a hard thud. You looked down the hallway until you saw Vada practically falling out of her room, hitting the opposite wall fairly hard. “You’re back early.”

“Yup,” you said, popping the “p” for emphasis.

“So… did he like your outfit?” She asked as she stood up, her hands instantly going to play with the hem of her shirt. Wait… was that your shirt?

“I don’t know,” you said before finally tossing your soaking wet wallet and hopefully-dry phone onto the couch. “He never showed.”

“What?” Vada asked incredulously, her sleepy eyes suddenly widening.

You huffed. “He stood me up, V.”

“But… but he asked you,” she said in a soft voice.

“It’s whatever,” you said with a sigh as you made your way into your room with Vada hot on your heels. “He wasn’t exactly the one I wanted anyway.”

“He wasn’t?” She asked. You didn’t bother turning around to look at her as you started digging in your closet for something dry to put on. “Then why did you say yes?”

“Because I was hoping a certain someone would get the hint,” you grumbled. Truthfully you didn’t care if she even heard you or not. She was high, it was not the proper time for this revelation to come out.

“If they didn’t get the hint then they’re a complete dumbass,” she said after a moment of silence. You closed your eyes and exhaled slowly once again. “Because they’d be stupid not to ask you out.”

“Yeah they would,” you agreed quickly before grabbing a t-shirt from your closet. “Don’t look.”

You checked over your shoulder to see Vada on your bed, dutifully covering her eyes with both hands. Why did she have to actually listen? You were standing in the middle of your room, soaking wet, about to take your shirt off, and she wasn’t going to look? Dammit, Vada, lose your morals!

“Anyone would be lucky to date you,” she said while you peeled your wet clothes off. “And if they don’t realise that then they’re an idiot.”

“Keep talking, Cavell,” you mumbled to yourself; you knew she couldn’t hear you.

“If I ever had the chance to date you, I certainly wouldn’t screw it up,” she continued talking.

Now that had you slowing your movements, taking your time to finish kicking your pants off. It left you in your shirt and underwear, but that wasn’t on your mind. You slowly turned to look at Vada, who still had her hands over her eyes, as you went over her words.

Did she really think that? Was that the sign you had needed to know that she actually liked you back? Yes you had been playing this game for around three years at that point. And yes, you should have said something ages ago, even your dad had said so. But was she admitting that she liked you?

“Who said you didn’t have a chance?” You asked slowly, your eyes still glued to where Vada was playfully swinging her legs over the side of your bed.

“Who said I did have a chance?” She asked in reply. “I’m not stupid, I’m not your type.” You stepped closer to the bed. “Your type is a bunch of nerds who are way below your league.” You sat down on the bed beside her. “Which you should change, by the way, you can do so much better than all those other-”

-you leaned forward to capture Vada’s lips with yours, silencing her rant. It wasn’t a long kiss, you didn’t want to give off the wrong idea. Or maybe you did, you weren’t sure yet. All you knew was she was going to keep talking until she either fell asleep or you silenced her, and honestly, a kiss was the best way. It killed two birds with one stone.

When you pulled away, you watched as her hands pulled down her face and she looked up at you. Her eyes were still bloodshot and you could still smell the weed on her clothes, but she was looking at you clearly. There was a slight flush to her freckled cheeks, and you would have kissed her again if it meant she would stay looking just like that.

“You kissed me,” she said softly.

“Yeah,” you said with a nod and a poor attempt at hiding your smile. “I did.”

“I thought you liked someone though?”

“Oh my god,” you groaned. “Are you serious?”

“What?” She asked as she sat up. “Are you serious? What about that person you like-”

“-I like you, Vada,” you practically shouted. She fell silent, something she didn’t do often. “You’re the other person that I like.”

“You- you like me?” She asked with wide eyes. “Me?”

“For fuck’s sake,” you groaned, “yes you.”

Vada nodded slowly as her eyes fell to a spot on the bed, close to where your hand was resting. You could practically see the gears turning in her head, going over this new revelation. Part of you was upset at yourself for telling her such a thing now, when you were grumpy and a little tipsy and she was high and unexpecting. Terrible timing, really.

“I thought I was the only one with those feelings,” she finally said, slowly so as to get her thoughts out properly. Something you adored about her. “That you weren’t interested.”

“Vada, I’ve been dropping hints for the past year,” you said with a soft sight. Not a frustrated one, simply to break the tension. “Even Nick and Mia knew.”

“I didn’t want to assume,” she said without looking at you. “I didn’t want to risk not having you around just because I caught feelings.”

“You don’t just catch feelings, you know,” you said as you leaned forward a little more so you could force her to look at you.

“And you really do like me?” She asked, looking up into your eyes; suddenly, she seemed a hell of a lot more sober. “Like, for real?”

“What is this, high school?” You asked with a snort. “Yes, Vada, I like you for real.”

“So does that mean I can kiss you again?” She asked, perking up at the mere thought. “Because your lips are really soft and I think I could kiss them forever if you would let me-”

-you leaned forward and kissed her again, immediately cutting her off. But this time you didn’t pull back; you leaned even further into her, your hand moving to rest on the back of her neck. She grabbed you by the front of your shirt and pulled until she was laying down and you were leaning over her.

“Wait,” she mumbled against your lips, “you like me enough to have sex with me, right?”

“Just shut up, V,” you groaned as you kissed her again.

She didn’t argue.

You weren’t sure if you should blame it on the alcohol, or the weed, or the revelation of it all, but you weren’t in the mood to be patient. Night after night you had dreamed of having Vada in your bed, teasing her until she was a mess underneath you. But now that you had her, you just wanted to hear her fall apart.

Clearly she was in the same mood as you because her hands quickly found their way under your shirt until they brushed against your ribs. It tickled and sent a shiver down your spine, which you felt her smile about. You knew it wasn’t a competition. That didn’t stop you from placing your knee between her thighs and pressing up against her.

“Oh shit,” she groaned against your lips as her nails scratched against your skin.

You kept your knee stationary as she grinding against it hesitantly. Even through her boxers you could feel how wet she was; it wouldn’t take long before she left your thigh wet too. You started kissing your way across her jaw, leaving small kisses below her ear before moving down her neck.

Her hands left a fire in their wake as she moved them up, quickly sliding them up to your breasts that were no longer confined by the wet bra you had been wearing earlier. You both inhaled sharply when she brushed her knuckles against your nipples; her hips stuttered for only a moment before resuming.

“Hang on,” Vada whispered into your ear, and you stiffened before sitting up.

Had you done something wrong? There hadn’t been much, but what if she had decided she wasn’t okay with it anymore? It was fine, you would respect it and wouldn’t do anything else, but fuck. Fuck, maybe you had just pushed it a little too fast. You knew you should have kept your cool.

“Take it off,” she said as she pulled on your shirt lightly before struggling to get her own shirt off.

Oh. Oh right.

“Never hesitate to free the titties,” she said with a cheesy smile.

“Never say that again,” you groaned, only smiling when your shirt was hiding your face.

“I just know how to appreciate a- holy shit.”

You watched Vada’s jaw drop - again - once your shirt was finally off. Her eyes were zeroed in on one thing. Well, two things, and even though you felt a little self-conscious, you knew it was just Vada. No, not just Vada, it was your Vada. Who was still halfway in her shirt and clearly too distracted to continue.

“You’re such a horndog,” you mumbled as you leaned forward to help her pull her shirt the rest of the way over her head.

“I hit the jackpot,” she whispered.

“Just lay back down,” you said as you pushed her shoulder lightly and watched her fall back onto the bed, her eyes still glued to your breasts.

“I can still touch?” She asked.

“Yes, V,” you chuckled, “you can still touch.”

“Oh fuck yes,” she whispered before pulling you back in for a kiss.

Just as you figured, her hands instantly found your breasts again. Each touch sent a tingling sensation down to your core. Maybe you shouldn’t have mentally teased Vada earlier for being so wet. Even though you had no proof yet, you just knew you were going to be soaked if this went on much longer.

While Vada continued focusing on her newest obsession, you just let yourself feel her. Her skin was so incredibly soft and warm. It was exactly what you had expected from her. The muscles in her stomach tensed underneath your fingers before relaxing again. When you brushed your knuckles against her hip, she giggled into your mouth.

“I’m ticklish,” she said.

“I can tell,” you answered with your own smile and another kiss.

“You’re just being too soft,” she continued. Oh Vada. You kept moving your hand. “Soft touches tickle.” Your hand effortlessly slipped past the waistband of her boxers that were far too big. “Especially on my hips-”

-she stopped herself with a moan when you finally managed to rub your fingers over her clit. Oh god she was wet, you almost struggled to stay in the right spot. But when you heard her moan again, her head thrown back against your mattress, well it was worth the struggle.

“Fuck you’re good at this,” Vada managed to gasp out when you circled her clit again.

“Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” you mumbled before leaving kisses on Vada’s neck. Her hands tangled in your hair as she pulled you up into a real kiss.

“Did you have a martini tonight?” Vada asked.

“Seriously?”

“You taste like a martini,” she said, her breath coming out in huffs as you continued to slowly circle her clit. Not enough to get her off, but fast enough to keep building her up.

And then it hit you. Oh. Oh, Vada was nervous. You had both talked of your personal exploits and experiences so you knew she wasn’t a virgin. Yet she had always seemed a bit bashful about the whole thing. It all made sense now; she was simply nervous.

You removed your hand and tried not to smile at Vada’s whine at the loss of sensation. But she quickly shut up when you grabbed one of her hands and slid it under your own underwear, doing your best not to moan at the feel of her fingers on you. And just as you had expected, and much like Vada, you were soaked. Embarrassingly so.

“Holy fuck,” Vada groaned against your lips before leaning up and capturing your lips.

She bit your bottom lip when you replaced your hand and continued circling her clit. Usually you would tease, but with Vada? Right then and there, when you were so humiliatingly sensitive and probably wouldn’t last very long? No, you wanted to make her cum until she was seeing stars.

And as you moved your fingers faster, you knew it wouldn’t take long. It was in the little pants and moans she let out, the squirming of her hips, the spastic movements of her fingers. Not that you could judge, you were losing your rhythm as well, doing your best to keep your composure even as she continued to turn you to putty under her fingers.

“I’m close,” she panted. 

Thank god, you thought as you rubbed your finger in faster, tighter circles. Unlike Vada, you couldn’t bring yourself to talk, knowing the second you opened your mouth you would let out a moan that would haunt you for the rest of your life. It was only a few more seconds before Vada pulled back, her eyes squeezed shut as she stilled beneath you. Her fingers continued moving, and you felt your own orgasm wash over you. You let out a groan as you rutted against her fingers to chase the high, only letting yourself fall beside her when the feeling had dissipated.

“Holy shit,” Vada whispered. “We can do that again, right?”

“Oh my god,” you chuckled as you lifted your hands to cover your eyes. “We just finished.”

“But we can do it again, right?” She asked.

You rolled over onto your side and looked at her. At the sheen of sweat covering her half-naked body and left her practically glowing under the singular ceiling light in your room. The rise and fall of her chest that was slowly but steadily returning back to normal. The absolutely stunning smile on her face that had your chest feeling warm and your stomach swarming with butterflies.

“How about we shower and then sleep,” you suggested. “And maybe we can do it again tomorrow.”

Vada turned her head to look at you, her smile still present although looking a little more mischievous.

“Can we do it in the shower?”

“Never mind, I’m going without you.”

“Wait, hang on!”

You smiled to yourself as you quickly shut the bathroom door behind you, effectively locking Vada out. She stomped her foot - which you could imagine perfectly - before walking off. You half expected her to stay gone until you heard more shuffling on the other side and something slid under the door. With a half-cocked head, you picked up the piece of paper.

No boobs? :(

“Not anymore,” you called out through the door, to which Vada replied with a groan as she finally walked away, presumably to your room.

As you got in the shower, you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe you should thank Jacob for standing you up. He had accidentally made a fantastic wingman.

[murdrdocs]

INTERVIEW 010

with. rafe cameron and jj maybank

includes. ghostface!rafe and jj, DUBCON, fem!reader, knife play, breaking and entering, unprotected p n v sex, mean!rafe and jj (obvi), reader isn't aware of their identities

→ kinktober masterlist

The knife that reflects the low light, pointed directly at you, should cause alarm. It should at least be the cause of the spike in your heart rate, instead of the two masked men who wield it. It should make your mouth dry, instead of increasing saliva production. 

You should be worried about your current position. About your current predicament. 

Kneeled on the carpeted floor of your childhood home, hands politely, and voluntarily, placed in your lap, your entire body lax and complacent even with two imposing figures looming over you, masked and dressed in all black combat gear. 

They stare at you, silent, calculating, eyes invisible beneath the ghost face and the black cloth that covers the oblong eye slits. The last time they spoke to you, – the first barking a hard command of “get on your knees” and the second cooing a condescending praise of “that’s it” when you did as told – you heard their voices through a modulator, designed to disguise possibly the most telling aspect of them. 

The distortion of it shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did. But nothing about this situation should have been as arousing as it is. 

Two masked men, completely unidentifiable, breaking into your home and holding a knife pointed at you with intent to use, shouldn’t be attractive. But between your legs is soaked, gray panties housing a dark gray patch right in the center of them. 

You didn’t have the thought to slip a pair of pants on after your shower earlier, leaving you in a tiny tee and your underwear, no bra to cover your hardening nipples from the perpetrators that stand before you. 

They notice it, you can tell they do, it’s impossible not to notice. Yet they don’t say anything. 

Instead, the one on the left, the taller of the two, leans down and raises a gloved hand. You flinch, but there’s no reason to, his hand raising to your chest instead of your face. His thumb and pointer finger single themselves out, closing around your pert nipple. He squeezes, as if he’s testing you, and you hiss. When his thumb grazes over the area instead of pinching it, you don’t know if it’s a gift, if you’d passed his test or not. 

You’re still unaware of your status when the other circles behind you, hand coming to your front view to cup your chin. You watch the glove come into view, eyes instead going up when he pushes your head back, making it so you look straight at him. The blank stare of the mask menacing, yet you’re not afraid. 

Instead, you shuffle on your knees, rubbing your thighs together in a pathetic attempt to receive some sort of friction. It doesn’t work, but you succeed in getting their attention, two pairs of snickers sounding from either side of you. 

“Give her what she wants,” the one behind you suggests to the other, the words lacking the harshness that an order should. Instead, it’s a simple suggestion, one you hope the other decides to take.

When he does, getting what you want has never felt so good. 

Not even the pain in your knees could dull this feeling, skin scraping along the rough texture of the overpriced rug your parents love so much as you attempt to hold yourself up. One of your hands digs into the black fabric of the denim jeans that one of your assailants wears, the other pressed flat into the harsh fabric beneath you. 

Your hand placements does nothing to steady you, though, not when the masked figure behind you is fucking you like this. Raw, something that only concerned you for an astonishingly brief second before you let your thoughts go in favor of reveling in the pleasure. Pleasure which multiplied once the figure in front of you had his cock down your throat. 

The living room is a mixture of sounds; the deep groans from the one behind you mixed with his insistent praises that degrade you all at the same time, the almost-whimpers from the one in front of you as he holds a hand at the back of your neck to force you to take more and more, and your pathetic garbling as you don’t bother attempting to muffle your own sounds while you take it all in. 

You’ve never been more full, nor have you ever been more fucking aroused. You can hear your own arousal over your slurping, pornographic squelches of bare skin abusing your gummy walls. You can feel it dripping around you, the skin of your inner thighs wet and warm. 

In a risky move, you shakily raise one of your hands to bring it between your legs, running your fingers over your clit with a touch that has your eyes rolling back. 

“Look at her. She’s really getting off to this, huh?” The voice behind you is distant as you start to rub a little faster, tight circles clearly intended to get yourself off. 

“Gonna make yourself cum, sweetheart? Hm? Getting off to two men breaking into your apartment and having their way with you.” He’s mean with it, and you’re sure the words are spoken to put you down, maybe fill you with shame and make you falter a bit. 

Instead, they do the opposite, sending you over the edge in an orgasm that has your legs shaking, body practically collapsing to the floor. 

They follow you to the ground, because although you may be done, it doesn’t mean they are. 

[xpeachesncream]

seven with you | bands drabble (jjk)

↳ drabbles masterlist

yours (ft. the bands!couple) | drabble seven: it’s time for jungkook’s solo debut and you have a few feelings about it.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: cussing, mature language, oc experiencing jealousy and insecurity, oc is very supportive but inevitably feels insecure and scared, kook being protective of his family as always, soft and sweet unprotected sex, cowgirl 🤠, making out, neck kisses, sprinkle of breast play, pls excuse any errors as i quickly whipped this up!

a/n: anon, this is for you! 💞 ironically this is my 7th drabble for the couple 😅 hehe coming back to continue feeding into all the thoughts, fantasies, etc etc because of seven promotions. much love, hope you enjoy! so sorry if i missed anyone on my perm taglist, its been so long! i’ll be back again soon 🥰

"So, what's hyung doing? Is he still at rehearsal?" Kai asks on the other line as you sit on the hotel bed, scrolling through your laptop.

"Yeah, he's still rehearsing for tomorrow."

"Do you know anything about the video?" You chuckle a bit and shake your head as if your little brother can see you.

"Mm, no.. besides who's involved. He wanted to keep it a surprise."

"Interesting." Kai laughs. "You're going in blindly with everyone else."

"I sure am." You laugh. "But, it'll be good! I'll get to experience this with everyone. I know it'll be amazing no matter what."

"How come you didn't wanna be in the video?"

"It's not that, I just always told Kook that he shouldn't let me hinder his process. If he wants me involved, then he can get me involved. If not and he chooses to do his own thing, then I'll sit back and support as I always do."

"Truthfully, did you want to be in the video?"

"I mean.." You hum as you tilt your head to the side. "It would've been cute."

"Then, why did you say no?"

"Kai. I just.. didn't want him to feel obligated. Plus, to be frank, I wasn't even sure if I was comfortable. I think Kook could tell, and he didn't wanna force it after that. Or, maybe he just had a revelation and thought it’d be better off not involving me.” You joke.

"Nothing is better off without you, you know that. But, of course. I get everything else that you’re saying.”

"I trust his process, though. I always do."

"True." He laughs. "Okay, shoot. It's about to release." You keep your eyes on the laptop as the music video starts, keeping your brother on the line as he promised he'd watch with you. He was currently at the Choi residence while you ventured out to New York with Jungkook— supporting him from the sidelines for the beginning of his 'Seven' promotions.

You smile as you see Jungkook and Han So Hee together at the table, praising her for being so beautiful and flawless. You giggle every now and then at Jungkook, but then you start to fix on the little details;

The chase.

His effort— though a bit much that it makes you giggle, the effort is there.

The way he looks at her, waits for her at the end.

Holds her hand and walks along her side.

Maybe you should've said yes to being in the video in the first place, then you wouldn't be in this predicament. Though, she fits well. The vibe is immaculate.

Their dynamic? Strong.

Let's take a moment to be real: part of you felt a little jealous at her flawless execution, a little insecure observing how perfect she is. It seems a bit silly if you generally look at it since Jungkook was Jungkook. But, you couldn't help it. You still weren't used to it, even if you reminded yourself every day that your man was Jeon Jungkook.

Even if you reminded yourself of your story with Jeon Jungkook.

Kai is still on the phone, slightly pulling you back to reality with his comments about how 'good hyung looked in the video' and how 'they worked well together.' He must have been tiptoeing with his words, especially when he quickly flips the script and starts to mention the explicit version that still needed to be listened to.

You follow the lead, playing it on your computer while Kai sat on speaker phone. You can hear the audible gasps coming from his end, your own eyes widening at the switch in the lyrics, the sudden shift of the entire song.

Although you were incredibly proud of Jungkook for continuing to step out of his comfort zone, you felt yourself shrinking and shrinking—

Falling into the never-ending pit of insecurity, jealousy, assumptions, what if's, etc etc.,

It was past midnight. Why was rehearsal taking forever?

Felt like hours, and hours.

"The explicit version— I— Wow. There is a lot to unpack here. But, I can't even say that I'm surprised. Hyung pulls it off well. Wanna be like him some day. He just doesn't care what anybody thinks, and he's so cool." Kai laughs with Yeonjun in the background as they continue to listen to the explicit version with you. You hear a faint 'I don't think this version was meant for us' coming from Yeonjun, a small giggle leaving your lips at their commentary.

"Stop." You say just as Jungkook gives three light knocks on the door before tapping the key against the reader and swinging it open. "Hey, I'll call you back later okay? Jungkook just got back."

"Okay! Tell hyung congrats on the solo debut and that we really liked it!"

"I will. Love you."

"Love you too!" He says as he hangs up the call. Jungkook strolls in with a big smile on his face as he types away at his phone, small giggles leaving his lips as he approaches you on the bed.

"Babygirl." He smiles at and you places a quick kiss on your lips. "Was that Kai?"

"Yeah, it was." You give him a tiny, pursed smile. "He said congrats on the solo debut and that him and his friends really liked everything." Jungkook pauses before he responds because he's typing another message before shoving his phone back into his pocket.

"Aw, thanks. That's my guy. Can always count on him." You let out a tiny laugh before avoiding his eyes, silently looking down at your laptop and letting your finger swipe across the trackpad. "You didn't have to wait up, love."

"Of course I did. I needed to catch it at release." You look up at him briefly. "How was rehearsal?"

"Fucking tiring, but we got through it. I'm excited for everyone to see the performances." He smiles and sits next to you. "So, what'd you think?"

"You two were great together, Kook. It was great.” You simply state.

"We were, weren't we? She was so helpful. And I felt at ease, like I didn't have to try much. She was such a natural at everything, it made things go by a lot smoother.”

"I can tell." You respond softly— probably a little too softly because Jungkook's smile slightly fades. Then, the thoughts start to swarm again just as you look at him. You quickly divert your attention by subtly biting onto your bottom lip, looking towards the hotel window when cars are honking their horns out on the street.

Of course, they were assumptions.

But of course, they were stupid, silly little thoughts stemming from your insecurity; occupying every corner of your brain, making you believe this skewed perception, this-whole-thing-that-is-a-thing-but-not-really-a-thing-because-there-aren't-any-facts-to-back-it-up—

"Hey." He pulls you out of your thoughts by taking your chin and making your eyes meet his own deep, brown orbs. "Talk to me, baby. I can hear you thinking. D-did you not like it? It's okay if not, you know? You can tell me. I value your opinion more than anything"

"What, no!" You shake your head. "I mean, no, of course I loved it. I loved every bit of it. It's amazing, and you know you always blow me away with everything you do." You cup his cheeks and let out a soft sigh. "I really do think you're amazing. I just.. maybe part of me kind of regrets not doing this with you?" He lets out a small breath before taking your hands in his and placing a gentle kiss on your palm.

"Are you saying that just because you saw her in the video?"

"Maybe? And, it did look easy. Everything looked so natural, especially for her. You two meshed well. I—I don’t know. I’m not really sure where I’m going with this anymore."

"Hm." He hums before tapping your thigh and bringing you onto his lap. You brush the hair out of his face while he wraps his arm around your waist, laying a gentle kiss on your cheek. "Baby, you know when I told you about it, I could tell you weren't comfortable with the idea. The last thing I wanna do is make you uncomfortable or unhappy."

"No, I know, Kook. It's not your fault. Trust me. It was beautiful and I really enjoyed it. I just.. felt a bit insecure especially since you didn't push on it. I thought you realized I wouldn’t work. She was way better and you totally saw that. You had this vision with her, and the thought made me feel a bit jealous too. I guess."

"I know this is easier said than done, but don't be. I love you." He brushes the hair away from your face this time. "You don't have to go out of your way to stand out or catch my attention. You don't have to prove anything to me, anyone. Plus, part of me felt kinda dumb for implying the idea knowing how it'd make you feel and how much attention it'd bring."

"What do you mean?"

"I realized it was probably better off this way simply because I didn't want people to paint this picture about us, or to assume our relationship was a certain way. I know there's already lots of things to be said about the video or the song itself, about our story— but at the end of the day, they don't know us like we know us and I'd prefer to keep it that way."

Because even though the relationship is out there, it's not out there. Jungkook tries to keep things balanced, keeping things private as much as possible out of safety— to create boundaries between his professional and private life. He would always put you and Kai first, keeping your safety, your comfortability and your happiness a priority.

Over everything, anything.

The moment he felt your uneasiness while mentioning the video, he retracted. He never wanted to force you, or make you do something that was too out of your comfort zone. He didn't want to cross that line of putting too much out there because he was happy with how things were. It was enough, just enough. And that's all he needed.

You were happy, Kai was happy.

Why would he ever push and ruin that?

"You're right. I understand."

"I hope that helps put you at ease a bit, princess. You can always talk to me about it. There was really no other reason behind me not pushing the idea." He caresses your cheek. "Okay? Nothing else." He kisses your cheek, before your lips. He gently taps the side of your hips before adjusting you on his lap and having you straddle him full on. You wrap your arms around his neck while he stares at you in pure adoration, a smile painted across his lips before he speaks again— "You're my muse. You're in everything that I do, bits of you are sprinkled everywhere. Everywhere that I go, songs that I've created, lyrics scribbled on paper, doodles on my notebook— everything." His hands travel up your sides, giving them a tiny squeeze as he lets out a small exhale against your lips. "You will always be my muse."

"I'm sorry, Jungkook."

"Don't be sorry." He chuckles a bit. "Everything you felt was valid, and I always want you to come to me about these things." You rest your forehead against his.

"I really did enjoy it, though. You always blow me away with everything you do." You kiss him just as you wrap your arms tightly around his neck.

"Yeah?" He chases after your lips, large hands grazing your back as he holds you close to him.

"Mhm." You giggle before poking the tip of his nose. "And uh, the explicit version of the song— we listened to it right before you walked in."

"Cool, huh?" You laugh and shake your head.

"You're crazy."

"You know.." He smirks before biting onto his bottom lip. "Think there's a little bit more explaining I can do for that one. But, I think it'd be better if I showed you."

"Oh?" You watch as Jungkook tears his beanie off and tosses it aside. "I think that'd be good." He leans forward for another kiss— but this time, it's deep. Deep enough for Jungkook to take in a strong inhale through his nose, shakily letting out an exhale once he parts from your lips. He doesn't waste any time before he's kissing you again, tongue swiping against your bottom lip before easing it in. His fingers trace your bare skin underneath your shirt, tips digging into your sides again when he feels you slowly rock against him— his length growing incredibly hard beneath you.

"Yeah, it would be good. Right?" He lets out a small moan in between kisses, hissing when he feels your lips make their way down to his jaw, neck. His hands travel to the hem of the shirt you're wearing, slowly prying it off and tossing it aside. He continues to sit on the edge of the bed while you straddle him, your hands now fiddling with his shirt before he pulls it over his head and joins yours off to the side.

"You aren't tired?" You lay some lazy kisses along his throat, sucking and nipping gently on the surface while his fingers tug at the fabric of your panties.

"Nope, not anymore." You make your way back up to his lips, relishing in every kiss, every squeeze— every bit of Jungkook. Midway, he finally helps you out of your panties before shifting his sweats and boxers down enough to let his cock spring free.  

"You sure?" You tease as you waste no time wrapping your hand around his member, pumping him a few times while listening to him let out a few moans.

"Positive, baby. Need you." He mutters as he signals for you to sink down his length. You do as told, slowly, easily, sinking down until he completely fills you up and bites his bottom lip. "Just like that. Right where you should be."

"Feel so full already, Kook." He chuckles as he adjusts himself better on the bed, tattooed hands traveling up your back, caressing your body, as he showers your tits with kisses. He takes a nipple into his mouth, tongue circling around the hardened peak before pulling back with a pop. Just as you continue to roll against him, he takes the other— giving his tongue a little more freedom to explore before sucking and giving it a quick pop. He continues to shower your chest with feathery kisses, moving to your shoulders and arms while you continue to set the tempo.

"So good— fuck." He moans. "You're doing so good, baby." He tightens his grip around your hips as he continues to praise you. "Just like that." He repeats. You whine, lips grazing his as you work him, ride him— feeling every inch of Jungkook inside of you. The way that your walls engulf him— squeeze him— with every roll of your hips makes it hard for him to hold on. Though, he can tell you're slowly tipping over the edge.

It's the way your face contorts in pleasure.

Your inaudible, silent moans.

The way your body stiffens when you work against him, relishing every bit of his cock before repeating the rhythm.

And he's right, you are close. So close. Jungkook pulls you into a sloppy, wet kiss before he slightly backs away to observe your face, you. He chases after your lips once more, biting onto your bottom lip and making you let out a moan that sounds like music to his ears.

The chase.

His effort.

The way he looks at you in pure adoration, easing you to the edge to see you in pure ecstasy.

Holding you close, keeping his hands on you at all times.

You continue picking up the pace a bit, causing enough friction against your heat. Jungkook calls your name, whispering sweet nothings against your lips as his hand rests on the nape of your neck— the other hand still on your hip. He starts to match your rhythm, your tone, thrusting upwards into you to fully tip you over the edge.

"Kook, I'm— I'm gonna— fuck." You whine as you become desperate, feeling the high settle into the pit of your gut. Finally, you tremble against him and moan loudly against him; hand squeezing his tattooed bicep, the other tangled in his black locks.

"That's it. Good girl." He caresses your back, continuing to thrust himself into you even as you try to come back down from your high. But now, he's there, and he's desperate for his own release. "You're my babygirl. You're everything to me. Everything." You moan loudly with him as he gives you one, two, powerful thrusts. "Everything that I do, everywhere I go. You're my muse. You're mine." He says against your ear, panting as he snaps his hips against you at a faster pace while holding you close; the sound of flesh against flesh filling the room. It's not long before Jungkook is coming undone, the aftershocks still rippling through your body. His cheek is pressed against yours as he pants and lets out a few whines, your walls milking every last bit of him until the very end.

"Kook." You whisper. "I love you. I'm so proud of you and I love you." He laughs lazily as he rubs at your hips.

"I love you too, princess. Good enough explanation for that?"

"Maybe." You giggle as you hop off and scurry off to the bathroom for a quick shower.

"I mean.. we can do more—" He trails behind you and welcomes himself into the shower.

"Jungkook, you need to be up in 3 hours." Your voice echoes in the shower and Jungkook scrunches his nose.

"And?" He laughs. "Running on no sleep is how I work."

"You're too much." You giggle when Jungkook turns you around and wraps his arms around you.

"Baby, baby, baby." He says smugly. "There's more that I'll need to show you, especially for the album."

"Jungkook." You try to scold him but you squeal when he has you wrap your legs around him and presses your back against the tiled wall— the night only leading to more sweet nothings, praises and genuine love. Jungkook loving on you, just as you with him.

Because, you are his muse. You are in everything he does, bits of you sprinkled in everything.

No matter the circumstance. No matter the day, time, year.

You will always be his muse.

permanent taglist: @spideyjimin​ @miinoongi​ @thebeebi​ @ggukkieland​ @bluesharksandfish​ @unicornbabylover​ @preciouschimine​ @codeinebelle​ @shesoldbutcute​ @jikookiekosmos​ @awhnamjoon​ @namjooningelsewhere​ @bunnybearrj​ @babycoffeefire​ @bri-mal​ @sintaethick​ @taejkjoons​ @love2luvya-blog​ @pb-n-juju​ @dianaxnyc​ @fan-ati--c​ @jungjoonie​ @jcsmae​ @favouritesblog​ @ppeachyttae​ @awseokjin​ @jjk1iscoming​ @moonchild1​ @vantxx95​ @genzslayer @knjeuphoria​ @jksjx​ @oogawooga222​ @yoonqki @halesandy​ @chimchimmarie​ @chimsworldsstuff​ @persphonesorchid​

[severinageto]

No more goodbyes (or rest in peace, Gojo Satoru) ————— drabble (word count: 849)

Satoru could not precisely measure how much time had passed without him, but he was acutely aware of how he felt. He recalled him as young and vibrant, or as an adult nursing a hangover, yet always moving his lips gracefully, gently—as though he were doing the world a favor simply by existing—while he spoke of the universe and its eons.

“Come on, I’ve told you, Satoru. An eon. A period of time spanning hundreds of millions, even billions of years. In geology, it’s used to…”

But as he crossed the threshold, Satoru could no longer remember its geological significance; all he grasped was the feeling that it measured the exact duration of their separation. To a mere mortal, it was just years, but a mere mortal could never comprehend, nor even begin to discern the void his absence had carved into his chest.

Ah, but it was all over now. He was already with the others, laughing in the terminal. His heart had ceased to beat, his lungs had stopped drawing in air, and his blood no longer flowed. He shouldn’t have felt anything, except perhaps tranquility.

Yet, as quickly as they had come, they vanished. Satoru found himself alone in a long boarding area.

The dreadful void had returned.

Why couldn’t they let him rest?

He hadn’t even had the chance to say goodbye.

Amid the roar of engines and the scent of kerosene, he walked through the vast, white horizon toward an eternal north, sensing an unseen force pulling him forward. His feet trudged heavily, one after the other, leaving him unable to distinguish whether it was hours or days. All he knew was that there existed the tiniest, most infinitesimal chance of returning, and that was why he couldn’t look back.

Apparently, they needed him.

Burdened by the loss of that fleeting moment of solace shared with his friends and his beloved, he halted just before boarding. A revelation, one of those insights that fortunate souls encounter in their darkest hours, dawned upon him: he owed nothing to anyone. He had given them all he could. His mind, his body, his life.

No. He would not surrender his soul.

Resolute, he dashed through the space, his gaze forever fixed upon the vault of the heavens. Acrux, the brightest star of all, pointed him toward the direction he was meant to follow, the path he had always intended to take.

And then, he saw him again. Suguru was there, leaning against a nonexistent column, wearing that serene smile he had so dearly missed.

No longer at the airport, but at the station. Of course. His beloved Aquarian was a creature of trains.

“Ah, you’re late,” Suguru remarked, arms crossed beneath his ornate monk robes, feigning annoyance. “Again.”

A soft laugh escaped Satoru, relief flooding through him. That was the voice, the tone he had longed to hear for so long. Just his. Not Nanami’s, not Haibara’s, much less Masamichi’s. The crystalline, delicate notes that only Suguru could produce were the only sounds he wished to hear in that dimension. Even when he scolded him. In truth, he could listen to those reprimands for all eternity.

“I was busy, you know, saving the world… once again,” Satoru shrugged, ambling toward him with slow steps.

“You mean ‘attempting’ to save the world.”

“You say tomatoes, I say potatoes…” Satoru replied, playing with his haori.

Suguru bestowed upon him a tender smile. He had known his lover’s fate the moment he arrived in that place. That was why he had waited and waited, for the cruelty that the cards foretold for the one he had loved most had to be countered with his greetings and embraces. It could be no other way. Just as he was born to accompany him, so too had he died to wait for him.

When they were close enough, Satoru extended a hand, almost as if fearing this might all be a new illusion. But when his fingers brushed against Suguru’s warm skin, the pain he had carried for so long dissipated. He was there, real, tangible. His long hair, his weary yet sensual eyes, his smooth skin, his leader’s attire. As magnificent as the day he had seen him depart.

“No more goodbyes, right?” Suguru murmured, taking Satoru’s hand.

“No more goodbyes,” Satoru echoed, smiling as he pulled him closer.

The void was supplanted by a peace he had never known. He understood it existed; he had read about it, heard whispers of it, even believed he had sensed it at some point in his life. But no. He had never truly experienced what it was to embrace Suguru without the fear of having his most cherished desire snatched away. What it was, after all, love in its purest form.

A train halted beside them. Suguru climbed aboard and offered his hand.

“To the south?” he inquired, smiling with his feline eyes.

“To the south,” Satoru replied, his smile the most genuine, the grandest, the brightest he had ever offered in life.

A smile that only true peace could bring forth.

————————— image by https://x.com/nejmai2?s=21

[tisayemate]

Vaporised

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Reader (callsign Vapour)

Fluff

Summary: Vapour teaches Hangman to put his mouth where his money is.

AN: tomorrow’s my birthday!! (Yup, sharing the same birthday as Scarlett Johansson and Mark Ruffalo 🥹)

Story under the cut:

Hangman was in rare form that morning—if by "rare" you meant absolutely, maddeningly, always insufferable.

The squadron had barely settled into the briefing room when Jake "Hangman" Seresin made it his mission to antagonize everyone in his orbit.

"Rooster, you planning to keep that mustache after I wipe the floor with you today?" he quipped, leaning back in his chair. "Or is it aerodynamic enough to help you fly better?"

Rooster shot him a flat look. "Shouldn’t you be studying the rulebook, Seresin? I hear you keep forgetting what 'teamwork' means."

Jake laughed, loud and carefree. "What can I say? I don’t need teamwork when I’ve got skill. I’m just built different."

"Built irritating," Phoenix muttered under her breath, earning a smirk from Bob.

In the corner of the room, you—call sign Vapour—remained silent, arms crossed, and gaze steady on the whiteboard. You had no intention of getting involved in Jake’s antics. He’d teased you enough in the past, despite the fact you barely spoke to him.

“Awfully quiet over there, Vapour,” Jake called out, turning his attention to you. “What’s the matter? Saving all your words for your post-match excuses?”

You didn’t even glance at him. “I, unlike some, don’t waste words,” came your reply.

That earned a round of "oohs" from the others, and even Hangman seemed momentarily caught off guard before recovering with a grin. “We’ll see if your flying’s as sharp as your tongue.”

The reason you were called Vapour wasn’t a mystery to anyone. During a training exercise, you’d pulled off a miracle landing with barely a drop of fuel left, earning you the respect of the instructors and the envy of a certain cocky aviator. Jake had never stopped trying to one-up you since.

Today’s dogfight simulation would be the perfect battleground.

Up in the air, Hangman’s taunts were relentless.

“Vapour, you sure you’re up there? Haven’t seen you all game,” he teased over the comms. “Or maybe that’s just your style—light and forgettable.”

Phoenix groaned. “Do you ever shut up, Seresin?”

“I’m just providing commentary,” he replied. “Gotta make things interesting while I mop the floor with you.”

You stayed quiet, focusing on your maneuvers. You weren’t interested in banter—you had one goal: take Hangman down.

Jake was good. Annoyingly good. But he was also predictable. He liked flashy moves and big risks, and you had no problem using that against him. You let him chase you for a while, luring him into a false sense of control.

“Gotcha now, Vapour,” he said smugly, locking onto your tail.

“Do you?” you replied, your voice finally cutting through the comms.

With a sharp roll and a sudden cutback, you slipped out of his sights and got behind him instead. Jake’s curses filled the channel as you locked on and fired the simulated kill shot.

“Hangman, you’re tagged,” Maverick announced.

Silence.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Jake Seresin had nothing to say.

“Vapour!,” Rooster cheered. “Finally someone shut him up!”

You smirked, leveling your jet and heading back to base. 

Back on the ground, Jake’s usual swagger was noticeably absent as the team debriefed. Rooster, Phoenix, and the others took turns mocking him, clearly reveling in his defeat.

Jake made a beeline for you afterward, his expression unreadable.

“Vapour,” he said, folding his arms. “You got lucky.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Luck? Or maybe you’re just all talk.”

For once, he didn’t have a comeback. He just stood there, staring at you like he was trying to figure you out.

Before he could say anything else, you gave him a pat on the shoulder. “You know Hangman’s actually the perfect name for someone who just got left swinging in the wind.”

And with that, you walked off, leaving him standing there—thoroughly humbled.

[absgay]

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ “I still remember the moment we met, the touch that she planted, the garden she left. I guess the rain was just half that effect.” ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

words count: 1.7k

“No need to imagine, cause’ I know it’s true. They say all good girls go to heaven, but bad girls bring heaven to you.”

warnings: 18+ minors dni, angst, grammar, f*buddy!abby, college!abby, sexual tension, some jealousy, idk i’m not good at this, smut.

part one, part two, next part.

Fuck this, fuck them, fuck her. You didn’t want to see Abby Anderson ever again, you didn’t want to talk about her or think about her either. It started with a basic conversation between two young women in the bathroom, comments, intrusive questions, then came the facts and revelations, the ugly truth.

“Idiot— So stupid.” you murmured as you went down the stairs. You needed some time to digest it, some space. Unfortunately, the universe didn’t seem to be on your side today. “Shit.”

“Hey, sweetheart!” Abby shouted as she stood in the hallway. Great timing, great, great, great. The blond’s enthusiasm died as you headed to your room without a word.

You weren’t surprised but frustrated as she followed you. Leave me alone, go away, fuck off. You looked down and sighed, you didn’t feel tough enough to confront her. “I don’t wanna talk to you, Abby.”

“Okay…” She responded with an uncertain tone. You felt small, naive and weak as an intense sadness stabbed your heart. “At least, tell me why or what happened to—” Abby’s gorgeous blue eyes widened as you kicked the door. “Hey— Stop.”

She seemed genuinely worried as you unlocked it, after the second try. She spinned you around by the wrist, asking questions, trying to understand what was going on with you.

“Did something happen or—”

“I don’t know, you tell me.” you managed to say after a few seconds, even though you were overwhelmed by your own emotions as they all fought together. “I feel so dumb, Abby— I thought things were different between us, I thought I was different and—” Don’t cry, don’t cry, not now. “But it’s not, because you fucked Nancy at this stupid party and then came to the library, flirted with me and decided it’d be fun to fuck me as well. You know what— You’re no better than the others, you’re nothing more than an asshole who pretends to be nice and to have morals so she doesn’t have to face any consequences.” Outch.

Abby didn’t say anything at first, shocked and confused. It was a nightmare, it couldn’t be real, you weren’t actually mad at her, right? She swallowed hard, your words and tone held so much disappointment and hatred, it fuckin’ hurt.

“I— I’m gonna be late for practice.” She turned around, ready to leave but at the last minute, decided to take another look at you. “I don't know what she told you, what you heard or whatever but I pulled away as soon as Nancy kissed me.” Abby said. “You’re the reason I went there in the first place. I came and left with only one thing in mind, you.”

You almost called the blond’s name as she walked away, almost. You shouldn’t have said that, any of it. You stood in the hallway and listened as Abby slammed the door hard on her way out, heart heavy and thoughts racing.

“Do you remember how you two first met?” Your roommate asked. She was looking at you from across the room, seated at her desk. “God— You were so angry.” She laughed.

Yes, unfortunately. It started back in autumn. You were in bed, complaining, groaning and turning around endlessly as music blasted from someone else’s room, once again.

“Where are you going? Hey— Trust me, it’s not worth it.” Your roommate had said to you. “They’ll stop eventually.” You didn’t listen and headed to the stranger’s room with determination.

You knocked once, twice, thrice, the music stopped. You looked around the hallway as you waited, ready to argue with whoever lived here. But as the stranger opened the door, you stepped back, captivated by the attractive blond woman standing right in front of you.

“Oh— Hey.” she said. “Can I help you?”

She looked really, really, too good. “Yes.” But, you couldn’t let the woman’s appearance distract you though, attractive or not: she was still annoying. “Shut down the music and let us get some fuckin’ sleep.”

She smiled, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest. “I don’t think we’ve met before.” You sighed at the blond’s flirtatious tone. “I’m Abby.”

“And I’m exhausted.” She huffed, chuckled even as you stood there, frustrated by her reaction. “I’m serious, shut it down.”

Abby leaned towards you with a smirk. “Sure— Anything for you.” Then, she stepped back and shut the door in your face.

Your mouth dropped. “What the—” She had turned the music back on. “Fine.”

From then on, you annoyed each other on a daily basis. On some random monday night, she’d decide to play with your nerves by blasting music until one in the morning. On tuesday, you’d tell everyone she has chlamydia. An immature game you both secretly enjoyed at the time.

One evening, as you were coming back from a friend’s party, you saw a woman leaving Abby’s room, once again.

“Neighbour.” Abby nodded at you. “Nice dress.”

“Dickhead.” She chuckled softly as you stood in front of her, arms crossed and thighs pressed together, the blond’s eyes lingering over your bare legs. “Well— You must be exhausted after your fifth dick appointment of the day.” It sounded bitter, which made you regret it instantly, your stomach twisted in jealousy and embarrassment.

She hummed, amused. “Yeah...” Abby stretched exaggeratedly, then flexed her biceps as you rolled your eyes. “But don’t worry about it, I can ruin my sleep schedule and add a sixth one for you.”

“How thoughtful. I’m gonna have to decline the offer though. You see, I’d rather get some sleep than chlamydia.”

Abby frowned. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Why does everybody keep saying that? I don’t have chla—” You chuckled and looked away. “Oh, I see— You’re truly something else.” Abby said. “Now, there’s better ways to get my attention.”

“Right.” You snorted at the blond’s face. “My mission in life.”

Abby huffed and leaned towards you. “Okay— Listen to me, smart-ass. I’d fuck you so good, you’d see stars.” She hummed, looking down at your parted lips. “Yeah— I’m sure your pretty mouth would feel good on mine. You’d sound so sweet moaning and screaming my name, needy little brat.”

Your heart stopped, time stopped. You couldn’t think straight anymore. It was unexpected, bold and so hot. Flustered, you remained silent in shock as Abby looked at you attentively, trying to decode your features. The blond’s face was so close to yours, yet so far away.

“Admit it— You want me.”

“What, no— You want me.”

“I do.” Abby confessed. “And— I must be an actual masochist, because you’re a pain in the ass, sweetheart.”

You hummed, swallowed hard, your cheeks flushed, knees weak, panties soaked as she stared at you with such nasty, hungry eyes. Fuck, calm down.

To be honest, you didn’t want to deny the sexual tension between you two anymore. It was an unwanted attraction built on curiosity and frustration, heated conversations at midnight, arguments in class, flirty comments at lunch, short glanced at parties, unanswered questions as you both secretly wondered: What if? How would it feel? How would it be? Gentle, rough, passionate? So many possibilities, so many hidden feelings, so much desire.

Unfortunately, as much as you wanted to know, as much as your body ached for hers, you didn’t wanna be one of these women, the one who leaves the blond’s room in the early morning glow and hopes she’ll call them back soon, because she never does.

“I don’t wanna be your sixth dick appointment of the day.” You stepped back.

She sighed. “Well— Technically, it’s past midnight, which means you’d be the first one today.”

You chuckled and shook your head as she smiled. “Goodnight, Anderson.”

“Goodnight.”

You turned around to head back to your own room, emotionally wrecked by the blond’s last few words. Luckily, Abby didn’t want you to leave, wouldn’t let it happen, not so easily, not like that. You yelped as she grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you into a kiss, your eyes widening, your body collapsing against hers.

“Fuck— I’m sorry.” Abby breathed. “I should’ve asked you first. I didn’t mean to— I thought we were— I don’t know.” She sounded so nervous, it surprised you. “Say something.”

Shit. A one-night stand couldn’t hurt, right? You needed to feed your curiosity somehow. “This is a one time thing.” you murmured, the blond dragging you into the dark room instantly as you responded.

Abby moaned softly as you pushed her against the nearest wall, your body overwhelmed by lust, the heat rushing down to your stomach as you kissed the blond passionately for the first time. Abby’s hands moved down to your ass, rough palms and thick fingers disappearing underneath your dress with eagerness.

“Shit—” you breathed in shock, the blond’s hands ripping apart your panties as she groaned against your neck, like an animal. “No, no— These were brand new— I fuckin’ hate you.”

You moaned and pulled at Abby’s braid, eyes closed and head falling backwards as she kissed your shoulder, then bit it. “Oh, Yeah— Do you wanna fight about it?”

“I do.” you whispered back.

Abby sat against the headboard as you lay between her thighs, your back pressed against her bare chest. She moved one hand down to your stomach and smiled as you whined in anticipation, eyes glancing at the blond’s hand approaching your inner thigh. Abby’s fingers moved across your clit teasing it, her mouth dropping as she sensed how wet you were for her.

“Please.” you murmured, frustrated. “Please—”

Abby’s second hand covered your mouth as she touched you, fingering you hard and fast, your moans and whines muffled, your own hands gripping on the woman’s veiny arms.

“Look at me.” Abby murmured with a serious tone. “Oh, fuck— You’re so pretty, so good for me.” You whined at her words, looking up at Abby with bright eyes, your mascara ruined by the sweat and tears. “See— I knew you’d love it."

“Abby— Fuck.” you cried between short breathes as the blond’s hand went from your mouth to your throat. “I’m— I’m—” She added pressure, smirking.

“That’s it, that’s it— Fuck, sweetheart— Come for me.”

Yes. You remember the quiet hallway, the rain, the sunrise as you headed out quietly, the shy glances and smiles you both shared at the door. Abby’s hands catching your waist, the blond’s lips capturing yours as she held you tight one last time, before letting you go.

Yes, you remembered it all too well.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

next part.

[cloveroctobers]

COMEDY — SYDNEY ADAMU [Summer Writings]

A/N: always imagined writing for Syd and I guess the time has finally arrived…only took three seasons but my girl deserves better and better is what she’s gonna get from me! This piece is set mostly in the final episode of season three as a heads up ❤️

S|N: there was a prompt list that I wanted to go off of to use for you the reader but now I can’t find it so I’m just going off the little I remember. Which is: you being a cyclist.

WARNINGS: language, self-doubt, neighbor trope, + mentions of sexual harassment.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Having a new neighbor was interesting to say the least. You didn’t think she was fond of you after running into her twice, sneaking in the first time and nearly running your bike over her feet as she seemed to be in a rush herself. She looked as if she was the type of person that if she knew that she had to be somewhere by a certain time, she would be there much earlier than needed.

You on the other hand? Operated on your own time, not sticking to routines as much after your quest to turn into a pro cyclist fell through, and you were stuck working a shitty retail job down at the dollar general (shut out to your general studies degree, your mother did aways say you should have studied something more valuable although she didn’t go to college herself and felt like her money was wasted on you compared to your older sister who lived in South Africa as a zoologist)…where you basically came in when you wanted since the manager never knew how to schedule the four of you—yes—FOUR of you properly. You did what you needed to survive, just like anyone.

The second time you got her attention was when you buzzed her apartment, annoyingly on her day off, contemplating about the contract agreement in the emptiness of her living room.

“Uh…yeah?” She pressed.

“Oh good! You’re home. I thought I was going to have to bug Anita instead and she’s the last one I want to talk to.”

“Who’s Anita?” Sydney paused before asking although she had a feeling who, “And who am I speaking with?”

“She’s on our floor,” you shift from one leg to the other feeling the violent urge to pee, “with the big 80’s curly hair, she talks to herself and at times it is a little concerning and she’s a bit of a Karen. You’ll know once you see her when she’s constantly asking if you live here after seeing her a handful of times and as for me? I’m one of your best neighbors, Ms. Lady with the Colorful hair scarfs.”

“It’s Sydney.” She replies and you nod your head finding that name to be fitting, “Oh yeah, the other guy with the abnormally big octopus tattoo on his cheek told me about you. You always forget to bring your keys, right?”

Oscar.

You thought to yourself in irritation, “Oscar raw dog’s his crocs, so you shouldn’t take his word for anything.”

Sydney laughs, finding this apartment building much more entertaining (so far) than the one she left previously behind but never her dad. “Am I sensing a little tension there or…”

“That’s another story for another time! Can you please buzz me in or else I’m going to have to go right on this sidewalk and I really don’t need another public indecency charge.”

You were honest, Sydney could admit but she also didn’t want to be the one to let a stranger, if you were a stranger into the building if you weren’t really who you said you were you know?

“…how do I know you really live here and aren’t just stalking one of the other tenants?” Sydney quizzed, trying to remember just what you looked like in passing.

“Because stupid Oscar told you I like to forget my keys on purpose?” You remind while Sydney slowly realizes this, although you can’t see this revelation on her face you keep going, “I live at the end of the hall from you, I even used to date Oscar’s sister, but she cheated on me and tried to gaslight me and then took the dog—which honestly looked like a fucking dust bunny in the dark so I’m not really all that upset about it—

“What kind of dog?” She chortles, but the curiosity is also evident beneath it.

You started dancing to the beat of The Fresh Prince in your head, which somehow always worked when you were about to piss on yourself—apologies for being unladylike or unpersonlike but hey when you have to go you have to go, “some Asian breed that starts with a P…Pekingese? Yeah Pekingese!”

“…I don’t know what the hell that is?” Sydney pats at her scalp.

“It’s like a failed experiment of a pug and Pomeranian!” You inform, “It’s actually awful looking, and my know it all sister would scold me for being discriminatory to animals but whatever! Um, How else can I convince you person in the nice cold building while I’m out here at risk of getting a heat stroke?! The basement is horror level scary so if you have to go down there—make sure you have somebody with you or just don’t? There’s also a squeaky floorboard in the middle of our hallway, a weird stain on the wall that’s shaped like a top hat?” You ramble.

A buzzing noise sounds right after your last word and you deeply exhale, yanking the front door open to hold with your backside while you rolled your bike in. “Thanks neighbor! Hope to run into you soon.”

“Ah, dont mention it!” You hear Sydney call, “and maybe invest in a clip for your keys?”

“With the way my cobweb bank account is set up? Not likely, girl! Timmy the toilet is calling my name! Catch you later!”

Sydney shakes her head, letting go of the button to glance at her open laptop and sigh choosing to head into the kitchen instead for some frozen waffles for dinner.

Despite the fact that Sydney is hardly at her new apartment, she finds a paper bag with handles on her door knob when she gets in one night. Carefully she peeks in it while opening the door to her apartment, once inside she pulls out a new satin scarf. It’s a golden yellow with white polka dots on it with a note attached.

~Welcome to the building + thanks for letting me in the other day. I think you’ll like this? If not? I’d never know! —your neighbor ____at 84H.

Which started something between you two without really knowing each other. All you knew was each other’s names now, you had handwriting that honestly resembled calligraphy—something Sydney would have never guessed you were into but you also picked up that when you did see Sydney, she seemed to have a scarf covering her braids majority of the time. She wore them well so you thought why not? It wasn’t anything overly expensive but it was thought that counts?

~What’s your go to midnight snack? —your neighbor Syd @ 84D.

Was on a lime green post it on your door days later. It became your thing, leaving little notes every couple of days on each others door, in a way it became a silent message to let each other know that you both were still around even if you never had the chance to officially be face to face.

So you attempted to draw a horrible picture of what that may be and then drew an x right over it. You weren’t crafty in that way, writing a message beside the terrible picture saying: a struggle meal. A grilled cheese but jelly as the cheese and jalapeño chips. Are you a board game person or video gamer?

Days seemed to get hectic after that in the both of your lives that the post it game seemed to die down just a little. Summer hours seemed to increase since the two teenagers that you worked alongside of preferred to be outside rather than inside—you didn’t blame them. One of them ended up quitting, the other lied and said they sprained their ankle but their Instagram said they were really hanging out at the river, so it was down to you and your elderly coworker Janice, who was actually in chronic pain, and then your manager was “temporarily,” on leave after a customer complained of sexual harassment.

The look you and Janice shared said enough, you believed the customer.

So now you had a new manager from fucking North Dakota…you had no clue what was even out there and they had a whole different approach. They had a neighborly spirit that you wished the scarce people at your building had—except for Sydney of course. The new manager was actually out on the floor, greeting customers and asking if they needed any help! They even gave you and Janice a choice during your eight hour shift, you can alternate between the register and stocking or just pick your role for the shift. They also kept checking in making sure the both of you were well mentally (ha!) and if you needed to take a ten minute break before your actual lunch.

She was a dream but definitely wouldn’t last.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride?” The North Dakotan asked, already in her pick up truck as you fumbled around with the chains to your bike.

Janice already beeped her horn twice in her Volkswagen Beetle, speeding out of the parking lot with Fleetwood Mac flowing from the windows. You snickered, hand waving in the air as you turned back to the chains, finally getting it unlocked.

“Thanks for the offer but one thing about me, I love this bike more than anything and as long as I can still ride it? I’ll choose this over any car or train any day.”

The manager smiles, “alright then, you have a good night. Get home safe, will you?”

“I’ll try my best.”

You’re limping towards your apartment, it’s late and the sky had this milky fog to hide the sense of dread—or was it grief that sat in your heart? You’re just at your door, body sore, spokes ruined from your bike but as bad as you felt you heard the huffing and sniffing from your left.

Picking up on the braids right away, you know it’s Sydney and it doesn’t appear that she’s having a good night although she’s dressed as if the night was supposed to be. Leaving your bike against your door, you pause, debating if you wanted to get involved or if she would even want to bothered with you while she’s having a moment. You use the act of your post it’s as the okay to be neighborly and check on your neighbor at the end of the hall.

The hallway feels like forever to get to Sydney but her round eyes widen in bewilderment as she feels you groaning to plop down next to her.

“Oh my god,” she gasps as she scans over your features with damp under eyes, “…w-what happened to you?”

Lolling your head to meet her gaze, you grin at her, ignoring the sting of the scrape on your chin and say, “I might have saw hell not too long ago.”

Sydney shifts, using the back of her hand to wipe at her nose, “I—don’t know how to respond to that.”

You explain, “Well apparently we all have to go somewhere—if you believe in that kind of thing. And I guess the person upstairs said let me show you as I turned into a speed bump.”

“You were hit by a car?!” Sydney yells, although her own head felt like someone was letting the air out of a balloon and her heart felt like it pulsating in a way that was probably too slow, with her veins feeling like the whipping of traffic on the freeway.

You knew that look, even had some pill bottles that actually became decor pieces on your bedside table that were supposed to help calm the track runner fuzzies inside to relax…but the concern was evident on her face yet it wasn’t really about you tonight, this was your first time officially meeting and the both of you looked like shit. Well maybe you more so but Sydney definitely felt like it.

“Worse,” you say searching your back pocket for the rolled up pack of gummies, “A electric scooter, that looked a whole lot like my teenage little shit of a co-worker who’s been out on injury.”

You held out the gummy bears to Sydney, lifting your gaze to meet dark brown hues once more. There’s laughter that bubbles in her chest as she envisions it, her large front teeth poked out behind her lips.

“I don’t mean to laugh at you—

“Eh, I do it all the time! Glad I could be of service to you.” You tip your imaginary hat, “And you know what he had to nerve to say to me after we both skidded across the street? That I scuffed up his kicks, when he was on the wrong side of the road!”

Sydney cupped her mouth, other hand holding onto a green gummy bear, “No! That’s so wrong.”

“If he ever decides to come back to work…I’ve got something for him.”

“A hospital bill?”

“Oh no! Hospitals give me the ick. All medical people do.”

Sydney tilts her head to the side at this, unsure what to fully make of that but somehow understood, however felt like she should still be slightly concerned that you didn’t get yourself checked out! considering how scrapped up and how your hair was basically mangled. Also who knew what you looked like underneath your summer attire…Sydney was no doctor but you seemed kinda careless!

“I’m afraid to ask.” Sydney bites off the head of the candy.

“Stick him on the register and sneak out for the day once the lines start to pick up. I hate to do it to our new manager since she seems cool but…it’s what he deserves.” You tighten your eyes wickedly.

Sydney slowly nods her head at this and snorts, “where do you work?”

“Dollar general,” you say with a shrug, “you?”

Sydney deeply sighs, “I’m a chef.”

“Oh-ho! Chef Sydney. I knew there was something special about you, neighbor.” You state.

Sydney shakes her head, “No, it’s not anything really.”

“Are you kidding? That’s admirable! Unless…that’s what has you out here when the party is clearly inside?” You connected the dots, hearing some laughter beyond her door, quickly analyzing her face and kicking yourself for not keeping your inside thoughts to yourself in that moment.

Sydney pulls her bottom lip into her mouth and closes her eyes.

“You know…you never did get back to me on you being a board game person or a video gamer.” Your attempt to ease her anxieties was a nice gesture, really.

Sydney took her time (which you were patient to), sucking air in between her teeth and digging her palms into her eye sockets, “uh…board game. My favorite is: Sorry!”

Your eyes turn into slits at that and Sydney, slowly removes her hands from her eyes to look at you. “Really?”

“What? What’s wrong with sorry?”

You start to raise your hands in surrender but stop your movements as your everything aches, “Nothing. I would have thought clue, connect four, maybe even scrabble?”

“Scrabble?” Sydney scoffs, “I rather eat a block of blue cheese without a glass of water.”

Scrunching up your lips at that you quiz, “are you lactose intolerant?”

“Only the weak minded are.”

“Oh?! That’s not very empathic of you.”

You both match each other’s stares but you crack a smile first before Sydney follows through with a burst of laughter.

“You’re judging me? when you’re the one who isn’t empathic to your stomach and makes a grilled jelly sandwich stuffed with jalapeño chips of all things?” Sydney holds her stomach as she laughs.

You’re laughing with her while arguing, “I never specified if I stuffed it or not. It could have been on the side, thank you.”

Which only makes her laugh harder, the both of your shoulders touching as the sound echoes throughout the hall. There’s tears streaming down her cheeks again for different reasons while your stomach clenches with humor.

Of course that is broken up by someone clearing their throat. Both of you turn to Oscar who’s standing there holding his groceries.

“What’s so funny tonight ladies?”

You stop laughing so you can reply, “that outfit you thrifted.”

Oscar scowls, “now I see why my sister left you.”

“Fuck off! You’re probably the main one that supports her OnlyFans career.”

Sydney gasped at that while Oscar sent you a middle finger, leaving you two alone as he travels down the opposite hall to his apartment.

Glaring at him, he casts another glance in your direction and you do the honors of placing your own middle finger right against the lips you kissed at him. He quickly looks away, nearly throwing himself into his apartment with a slam of his door.

Leaning into Sydney again, you both laugh until it’s hard to breathe and that feeling is both familiar on both ends. Once you catch your breaths, you lean away to hold out your unscraped hand for her to shake, “Hey, Chef Sydney. It was nice talking to you and meeting you.”

“Likewise.” She gives a small smile while shaking your hand before you groan and moan getting back to your feet.

And she stays outside a little longer, mostly to collect herself and watch you make it back to your front door and battered bike. You send a peace sign as a goodnight, limping into your apartment after softly clicking your door shut.

Sydney sits, clasping her hands together thinking over that small moment, not realizing how important it would later be as the days continued on.

“There you are,” The British voice catches her attention and she takes his hand as he helps her to her feet.

Luca halts her movements, checking in with Sydney as she tries to brush away what that was from her face, although it clearly wasn’t something she could ignore as the problem was already on the surface.

She begins to follow Luca back into the party, stopping in the door way as she peeks back at your door, already thinking about what to say to you next on a lime green post it, while letting some laughter shine in her eyes.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Continue with my summer anthology writings & prompts here.

[absurdthirst]

Simply Din Djarin {Mando x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: Nudity, skinny dipping, beskar-less Din, lying, first kisses, oral sex (male receiving), vaginal sex, angst

Comments: Din decides to spend a week on a remote planet, sans armor to swim in the waters and come to terms with what he needs to do. Meeting you when you come to your swimming hole, things become intimate and you have no idea the handsome naked man in front of you is a Mandalorian. He's simply Din Djarin.

✨Who's excited for Season 3 of The Mandalorian? WE ARE!!!! ✨

A/N: This entire story is based of this NSFW GIF. What can we say? We're thots.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || The Mandalorian MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

It’s a gorgeous sunny day on Bellassa, the lakes shine and with Grogu safe with the other young ones of the town, Din felt secure enough to seek out the lake. It’s deserted, no one is around, so he methodically strips off his beskar, removes his flight suit and allows this one and only moment so far in his life to let the sun hit every part of his body. 

Completely naked, he sighs in bliss, and after hiding his helmet and armor, he walks towards the shore. The cool water hits his feet, then his calves, then his thighs, until he’s waist deep. He’s never felt so free. The sun warms him and he tilts his head back, enjoying this moment without the galaxy on his beskar-clad shoulders. Dipping beneath the water, he starts to swim and revels in the feel of the cool water and the absolute silence. It’s paradise and Din knows he will be doing this again before he leaves Bellassa. 

When he breaks the surface, he inhales deeply and his eyes widen when he sees you walking towards the shore, also naked, and fuck, you’re gorgeous. He knows he should dip under the water, try to get out of sight before you see him without his beskar, but then he imagines meeting someone as plain Din Djarin. He often wonders who he would’ve been if the Mandalorians didn’t take him in. Would he have been a tradesman? Maybe he would’ve been a Rebel? Would he have a family? It makes his head spin sometimes and ultimately, he decides to pretend to be plain Din Djarin, not Mando. 

“Oh Maker!” You shriek when you see his face and you rush to cover yourself up under the water. 

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there.” Din apologizes in a rush and you shiver at the cold water, 

“I haven’t seen anyone here…ever. I- I didn’t know that anyone else knew about this place. Sorry. You- you scared me.”

“I just arrived last night.” Din confesses, motioning towards the forest where his Starfighter is hidden. Grogu is still sleeping there and he shakes his head.” “I’m sorry again.” He murmurs softly. “The water was too tempting.” 

“It’s- it’s okay.” You swim back a few feet, putting some distance between you and the strange, handsome man. “I understand, I wanted to swim as well.” You introduce yourself and tilt your head at the man, finding his bashful expression to be charming. He didn’t seem like he posed a threat. “What is your name?”

He hesitates for just a second, knowing he shouldn’t give his name but you don’t seem like a threat. “Din Djarin.” He answers and you hum, repeating his name. Hearing you say it, so innocently and sweet, has his stomach twisting. “You are from Bellassa?” He asks and you nod.

“I’ve never left. I like it here. It’s peaceful. Warm and safe. What more could a girl ask for?” You tease softly, waving your arms through the water, and Din nods, a soft smile on his face. You seem so untouched by the horrors of the galaxy. 

“Not much more, I suppose. Does your family live here? Your - your partner?” He asks, a little out of practice with small talk. Most of the time he lets his fists do the talking and he grunts or has a one word answer. 

“My family lives here. My parents, my brothers and sisters. I - I don’t have a partner.” You tell him bashfully.

Din knows that his face gives away every little thought that he’s feeling. Surprise rides across it now. You are gorgeous, why wouldn’t you have a partner? “I’m here with my- my son.” He offers. “He’s like my son.” He clarifies as he realizes it sounds like he is married. “I don’t have a partner either.”

You frown, certain that a man like him would have a significant other. “Well, that’s not necessarily a bad thing that neither of us have a partner because we’d have to explain why we are both swimming naked in a lake.” You giggle, loving how you can see every micro expression on his face. So many people keep their face impassive but his brown eyes show everything.

Din nods seriously, seeing how that could be a problem. “Do you swim here a lot?” He asks curiously, encouraged by the fact that you haven’t left or tried to move away from him. He’s not drifted closer, content with floating in his own area and enjoying the water engulfing him.

You nod, “every day if I can. I love how peaceful it is. It’s nice to escape and just be left to my own thoughts.” 

Din sputters, “oh I’m so sorry. I’ll go.” 

You shake your head, shifting a little closer to him, “no. No. You can stay. It’s nice to talk to someone. Tell me, what do you do, Din?” You ask him, certain he will say he’s a Rebel. He has that look about him.

“I- I’m a moisture farmer.” He thinks of Quill and nods. “On Tatooine. Supplying water to Mos Eisley.” It’s a lie, but it feels good not to have you freeze up at the knowledge that he’s a bounty hunter. Most people either want to fight him or run from him.

You sense a hesitation but you are innocent to the terrors of the galaxy. Safe on your small planet that seemed untouched by the Empire. Maybe they didn’t think it was significant enough. You’ve heard of Tatooine and know it’s a desert planet. “Wow. You- you must have seen a lot of the galaxy.” You shift closer again, curious about him. “Tell me the best place you’ve been to. I - I haven’t left the planet so I need to live through you.”

Din admires the whimsical smile on your face and wishes he could be so carefree, so unjaded by this life. “Naboo.” He murmurs softly, remembering the lush green and blue planet. The waters remind him of this lake. “Although this is a close second.” He bites his lip and flusters when he realizes how you can interpret that. It’s so much easier to think these things and stay silent behind the helmet.

You grin, liking that he has enjoyed your planet so far. “I wouldn’t mind visiting Tatooine one day.” You admit and tilt your head up towards the sun, the water rippling as you kick your legs out to float. You are uncaring of your nudity, knowing that a man as well traveled as Din should have been a variety of figures. You are here to relax, wanting to forget about your troubles.

“It’s all sand.” Din’s mouth is as dry as the Dune Sea, watching your nude body float on the water. Your nipples are perked up and he imagines sucking on them. His cock starts to harden, making him reach down and cup himself to try to make his reaction to you go away. You want to enjoy yourself, not be gawked at. “It wouldn’t be as refreshing as this.”

You close your eyes, enjoying the peace and unaware of the Mandalorian's struggle. You sigh when you open your eyes to see the sun shifting towards the horizon. "I should be heading home. My parents worry even though I am old enough to join the Rebellion." You joke and shift to head back to shore. Again, you care little for your nudity as you reach for your towel, aware of those dark eyes watching you. "Your son shall be awaiting your return too, I imagine?" You hum, drying off your body.

Din scoffs. “Little gremlin sleeps nearly all the time.” He huffs fondly, knowing that he will be hungry when he wakes up. That and will be ready to cause trouble. His eyes flirt over your body and he looks away, aware that if he keeps staring, he will get hard again. He doesn’t come out of the water completely, just to his chest and he glances back at you again. “It - it was nice to meet you.” He offers, frowning slightly at how ridiculous he sounds when he’s not hidden behind his armor.

You giggle at his expression, sliding your feet into your sandals. “You too, Din Djarin.” You wink and know he wants privacy to get out, so unlike the openness of your home planet. You make your way home, thinking of the handsome traveler. 

****

When Din returns to Grogu, the little gremlin is awake and eating the hidden box of crackers Din had stowed for snack emergencies with the kid. “I know. I lost track of time.” Din sighs, now dressed in his beskar. Grogu coos, tilting his head at Din.

The cracker in his claw, Grogu toddles over to where Din is standing and holds onto his boot until he bends down and picks him up. He shoves the cracker in his mouth and reaches out and touches the helmet and coos again, making Din sigh as he thinks about today.

**** 

You spend all day thinking about Din and decide to go back to the lake for your daily swim. You smile when you see him in the water already. “Hello Din. Long time no see.” You tease, working on stripping off to get into the water.

“Yes, such a long time.” Din can’t hide the smirk that he has as he watches you strip. You obviously have no issue baring your body and he’s curious as to why. “Is everyone on your planet like you?” He asks, tilting his head curiously.

You nod, knowing what he means. “We believe that the body should be admired. It is our true blessing. We are alive, we are here and that itself is a blessing. No one is ashamed of their body as every day is a gift. Our culture is not one of constant nudity but we are proud of our bodies, no matter how they look.” You explain, kicking aside your pants and you quickly walk towards the shore to step into the water. “Are Tatooians not happy to bare themselves?” You question him, wondering if his culture is more conservative than yours.

“This is the first time someone has seen me bare since-“ he shakes his head. “Since I was a child.” He admits quietly. “Tatooine has two suns, your skin would be dry and burnt under the fiery suns. Staying covered keeps you protected.” He explains, although he doesn’t tell you that no one has seen his face beyond when he had become an apostate because he is Mandalorian. Broken his creed. He has to put the helmet back on and redeem himself in the waters of Mandalore, but for now, it’s pleasant having you look at his face.

Your eyes widen, “no one has seen you? Not even a lover?” You ask him, surprised that no one has caressed every inch of his body. “Surely you have had lovers caress your body?” You ask with curiosity and confusion.

“No one.” He’s not celibate, he’s had sex. Normally in the back of a cantina or some dusty alleyway. Only baring his cock and taking them from behind. No one had touched his skin until Grogu had when he was leaving with the Jedi.

Your eyebrows raise, “no one?” You’re shocked. He’s so handsome and you’re certain that any lover he chooses would be lucky to have him, you know you’d want him to want you again. Biting your lip, you shift closer. “Can I- can I touch you?” You ask softly and he hesitates, you see it in his eyes until he nods once. You shift even closer until you’re standing in front of him, the water covering your chests but you reach up to caress his cheek. His eyes close and you feel him shudder. There’s nothing but the sound of the waves and the breeze as your hand trails down to caress his neck, featherlight touches to his skin while you slowly move your hand down to his clavicle where you see the scars. “You were in fights?” You question him, tracing a scar.

“Some.” He reminds himself that you don’t know about the beskar that is hidden in a bundle surrounded by his cape in the cave. You don’t know that most tremble and scatter like rats when he walks through the towns he arrives in. You just see a man in front of you, one that you are obviously attracted to. He knows that look in someone’s eyes. He groans when you fingers brush over a nipple delicately, his cock twitching in interest. 

You smile softly when he groans, adding your other hand to the effort of caressing him. You trail your hands along his chest, pressing your palms onto it so you can feel his rapid heartbeat. “Can I kiss you?” You ask softly, meeting his eye and he inhales sharply. He has never been kissed before. He doesn’t know if you’ll be happy with his kiss but he nods and you carefully lean in to brush your lips against his.

Din shudders, inhaling as your lips caress his and his hand comes to hover around the back of your neck before he touches you. Groaning when your kiss firms up, and his eyes flutter closed, just absorbing the almost overwhelming sensation of your lips on his. The idea that his lips might be dry has him sliding his tongue out to wet them and gasping when your tongue touches his. 

He seems so hesitant and you enjoy how he exhales into your mouth when you become bolder, sliding your tongue into his mouth. Your hands slide up to wrap your arms around his neck. You kiss languidly, in no rush to move things along. You like how sloppy he is, making you feel in control, and you tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging on it.

The moan Din lets out is pathetic, nearly a whimper but you seem to know that he loved it. Pulling on his hair again and moving closer to him. His cock is rock hard, poking you in the stomach as you press against him. Making him blush as he pulls away, “sorry.” He rasps out, hating that he can’t control himself.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” You promise, “I like it. I like that I’ve affected you so much.” You press yourself against him, trapping his cock between you. Loving how big he feels against your tummy. “Tell me what you want, Din.” You murmur, pressing kisses along his jaw.

Din’s lashes flutter and he moans, his cock pulsing against the soft skin of your belly. “I want-“ he starts, panting when you nibble on his ear. “Dank ferik.” He hisses. “I want to- to let you touch me. To touch you.” He’s touched people before but it’s always been through the layer of his glove. “Fuck you.”

You smile against his skin, able to read him like a book but you love hearing him say he wants to fuck you. "I want you to fuck me." You confess, kissing along his neck and you reach between you to wrap your fingers around his cock, squeezing him. "You can touch me wherever you want." You tell him breathily, desperate to feel his hands on you.

Din hisses, barely able to keep from thrusting into your grip. “Fuck, fuck.” He feels you wrap your legs around his waist and he loves the way your skin slides against his. Turning to sluice through the water to shore, he ducks his head and starts kissing any part of you his lips can touch. Carefree in a way Din has never been before, able to just feel and prioritize pleasure over everything else. It’s freeing, you’re freeing.

He lays you down on the sand and you caress his back as he kisses along your chest, down to your breasts. He’s sloppy and eager, making you gasp his name as he takes your nipple into his mouth. You can tell he’s fumbling but his enthusiasm makes up for it. “Maker.” You pant, arching your back into his mouth and his cock twitches against your thigh.

Din has never tasted anything like the taste of your skin, covered in the fresh water and sand. It’s musky and salty, making his moan as his tongue flicks over the hard peak of your breast. Your response spurs him on and he wants to keep suckling at you until you push him away.

You push at his chest and shift so he lays down. He follows your silent request, pliable and eyes full of awe. It makes you feel powerful and wanted. You shift to straddle him, bending over to kiss along his chest. “Din. You are so beautiful.” You lick along the various scars and blemishes covering his skin until you are kneeling between his thighs. You wrap your hand around his impressive cock, fingers not able to touch with how girthy he is, and you lean in to wrap your lips around the head of his cock.

“Dank ferik!” Din whines, eyes blown wide and entire body jolting in pleasure. Without the armor on, he’s stripped of all his defenses and unable to stop himself from talking. “Fuck, oh fuck.” He pants, digging his fingers into the sand under him to keep from grabbing you. Your breasts rub against his thighs and he swears that you are a sorcerer, just like the Jedi, as you lap at his cock. He’s never trusted someone to suck his cock, it made him too vulnerable, but you think he’s just a man and he can’t believe this is what he’s been missing.

You love how wrecked he looks and you haven't even started. Deciding to take him deeper, you widen your jaw and look up to meet his dark gaze, his mouth open as he pants out harsh breaths. It's gorgeous and you want him to remember this moment forever. You want to sear this into his memory. You can sense he's holding back so you lift off of his cock, "you can touch me," you tell him and resume your attempts to take him deeper down your throat.

His hand shoots down to cradle your jaw, cupping it and pressing his fingers to the hinge of your jaw. Making you open your mouth so he can see his cock. “Fuuuuuuck.” He hisses, overwhelmed by how good you look like that. “Are you enjoying sucking my cock?” He groans out.

You hum around him, letting him know you do. You usually don't do this. Your last boyfriend was - Maker knows how long ago. You aren't one for casual but Din seems to bring something out inside of you. You whimper when he grabs the back of your neck and pushes you further down his cock. You choke but try to breathe through your nose to swallow around him.

“Fuck- I - I never -I never had someone do this.” He growls out the confession, eyes burning into yours. You seem to make him want to confess everything, to bare himself even more. “So good.” He pants. “I want to try.” He promises you. “After- after I fuck you.”

You moan around his cock, looking forward to touching you. You’re dripping wet and aching for his touch. His hands are surprisingly soft, making you think he wears gloves. “Fuck. I- I don’t want to cum down your throat.” He admits, knowing he won’t last long if you keep sucking him like that. You reluctantly pull off of him, not wanting this to end too soon, and you kiss up his stomach, loving the slight belly he has, and you eventually press your lips to his. Straddling him so his cock is pressed between you.

He isn’t a virgin, but there is something that about the way you notch his cock at your entrance and start to stink down on him has his toes curling into the sand. His fingers dig into your hips and he groans your name as his voice breaks. It’s hot and tight and wet, probably more so because he can feel everything. Nothing is hidden behind the layers.

You moan, sinking down onto him until he’s fully inside of you. Your walls flutter around him, and you whimper his name. Your hands caress his chest, admiring the tattoo he has etched into his skin. “Feel so good.” You pant and lift your hips, starting a slow pace to ride his cock.

The view is different without that display from his helmet. The colors are more brilliant and without any of the information coming up on the screen. He just…watches. You’re gorgeous as you gallop on his cock, using him for your own pleasure and giving him more than he ever dreamed possible. Making him try to move with you, chasing the heat of your cunt when you lift off of him.

You love how his fingers will leave bruises, how you’ll know he was inside of you tomorrow with every move you make. “Oh Maker. You- you feel so good.” You pant and rock your hips, leaning forward to press your chest against his, your lips seeking his with an eagerness you’ve never felt.

Din jerks his head back on instinct and then lunges forward to kiss you. Most often someone coming towards his face was either trying to remove his helmet or head butt him. Not with you though. Your tongue slides into his mouth again and he twitches deep inside you. Moaning into your mouth as he sloppily tries to copy the flicks of your tongue.

You don’t care that he seems inexperienced, you love being able to take control, to show him what to do. His tongue flicks against yours and you grind back onto him. “Fuck.” You pant into his mouth when the new angle has his pelvis grinding into your clit and his cock angled against that spot inside of you that makes you cry out against his mouth.

The second that Din feels you clench around him, he knows that this is the angle that is going to make you cum. Grabbing the back of your neck, he angles his hips to keep pressure on your clit, loving how you grind down on him. You’re more enthusiastic and responsive than any other person he’s fucked. Making him want to make you scream his name. A memory he can take with him when he leaves.

You squeal, letting him position you, and you frantically grind back onto him. You’re so close. You pant, eyes squeezed shut, until you’re crying out against his jaw. “Fuck!” You wail, clamping down on his cock, thighs shaking and you can’t seem to move anymore, your body freezing as you clamp down on his cock and soak him.

“Dank ferik!” Din wraps his arms around you, thankful that the water had hard packed the sand right where he is laying. Letting him thrust up into you when you seem incapable of moving. Loving how your moans pitch up in octave every time he fills you to the hilt. Every nerve ending in his body alight with need as he chases his own release.

“I- I have an implant. Cum inside of me. Please. Cum inside of me.” You plead, letting him use your body and extend your orgasm. “Please Din.” You ramble, pressing your lips to his, loving how he’s holding you close.

“Fuck, Mesh’la.” Din gasps against your lips and his hips work even harder, pistoning up as hard as he can. Tightening his hold on you while the loud squelch of your cunt is all he can hear along with the roaring thunder starting to build in his blood. “Gonna- fuck, gonna fill you uuuuuuup!” He cries out, body tightening as he pulls you down in his cock one last time and stays buried inside you, pumping you full of his cum.

You collapse against him, head pressed against his as his cock pulses inside of you, and you sigh against his chin. “Fuck.” You pant, out of breath, and when his cock finally stops pulsing, you kiss his jaw. You’re exhausted and boneless but in an incredible way. “Maker. That was - wow.” You giggle, amazed that he made you cum so hard. No other lover has made you feel like this.

Din hums, closing his eyes and panting as he tries to catch his breath. Stroking your back lazily because he’s unable to stop touching you. “Very���wow.” He agrees, more relaxed than he’s ever been in his life. The water laps at his feet gently and the breeze cools his heated skin. It’s paradise and he’s reluctant to move from this spot.

You kiss him softly, glad he enjoyed himself as much as you did, and you are about to slide your tongue into his mouth when you hear a coo. You pull back, looking up to see a small creature with big eyes and even bigger ears staring at you and Din. “Maker!” You shriek, shifting off of Din and you grab your towel to cover yourself up.

“Grogu.” Din had rolled over, about to face whatever danger was coming bare assed, only to be faced with his son. He drops his head slightly as the baby starts toddling over. “This is- this is my son.” Din explains. “I care for him.” Reaching out as soon as the baby toddles close enough, he snatches him up. Watching as the large black eyes get even wider and he coos as he reaches a three fingered claw out to touch Din’s face. “Sorry, he was still asleep.” He tells you. “You know you’re supposed to stay with the ship.” He scolds Grogu lightly, aware the child does what he wants.

You step closer now you know it’s his son. “He looks just like you.” You tease and Din snorts. You reach out to gently caress his ear and he coos at you, reaching up to press his claw to your face, his other hand still pressed to Din’s. You feel a surge of electricity run through you and you gasp, your eyes meeting Din’s. “What was that?” You ask, eyes wide and Din sets Grogu down to grab a towel. 

“Nothing.” Din rushes out and you are confused by his change in demeanor. 

“I will see you tomorrow?” You ask and he nods, picking Grogu up again. “Okay. I’ll see you soon. Bye.” You wave at the child who coos and offers you a toothy smile.

“You can’t do that.” Din scolds as he walks back to the cave where his armor is hidden. “Your Jedi powers shouldn’t be used on everyone.” Grogu coos up at him and Din sighs, knowing the child is hungry “yes, we’ll get you something to eat.” He tells him, wondering if he will see you tomorrow. 

****

“Dank ferik.” Din moans, sitting up this time with you in his lap, his cock buried inside you as he bites along your shoulder. “So fucking good, don’t want to leave.”

“Don’t.” You beg breathlessly, rocking your hips and your hands grip his shoulders, “don’t leave. I don’t want you to go.” You confess, pressing your lips to his, sliding your tongue into his mouth. Your hips rock against his, nails scratching his skin.

He doesn’t want to go, he wants to stay here with you, but the Darksaber is in his possession. He was the leader of Mandalore. He needed to unite his people and more importantly, he needed to redeem himself in the Living Waters of Mandalore. “Have to.” He gasps when the kiss is broken. “Have to- to move on.”

You hate that he has to go. Certain you could love him. You’ve talked, in the aftermath of your lovemaking, you talk about the galaxy and your family, and he tells you what he can but you can sense he’s holding back. “Stay.” You plead, wishing you could convince him even though you can tell he has to go. You cup his cheeks, pressing your lips to his, and his hands slide down to squeeze your ass.

Din groans, wishing that he could, leaning in and kissing you harshly. Biting your bottom lip and then soothing it with his tongue as he rocks his hips up. “I would.” He gasps out. “If-if things were different. I would stay.” He imagines it, staying and raising Grogu here and marrying you. Having children with you and raising them without his helmet.

You feel tears sting in your eyes, knowing that this man will be leaving tomorrow. It makes your heart break. You have fallen for him and you know it’s going to hurt you to watch him go when you could so easily picture spending the rest of your life with him. You don’t say another word as you focus on how he feels inside of you, wanting to memorize the smallest detail, down to his breathing and the way he smells, his scars and the way his hands caress your skin. “Oh Maker.” You pant, feeling yourself getting close and you whimper, not wanting to cum because when you do, he will and you know he will leave you.

There’s a desperation in the way you move together. The week spent swimming and fucking meaning more to him that he could ever explain. Feeling closer to you than anyone, ever. Din holds you close, rocking his hips up and mumbling words into your skin. Praises, words in Mando'a. Telling you how he feels without voicing the words. His grip bruising and his kisses desperate.

You don’t recognize what he is murmuring into your skin, words like “mesh’la” and “cyar’ika” and “riduur.” You don’t know what they mean but the way he says them has you clinging to him. “Oh fuck. Din. Im going to -” You grind down on top of him and stop, not wanting to cum just yet. 

“Come on baby.” He murmurs, grabbing your ass to help you move and you let him drag you down and lift you on his cock. 

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Fu-” You choke, burying your face in his neck as you clamp down on his cock.

Din groans out your name, cumming right behind you. Holding you tight as he rolls his hips up and empties himself into you. Loving how you take every drop of his cum and whine as his seed coats your walls. Holding onto you and wrapping himself around you as both ride out your high.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close, and you feel his heart beating as fast as yours. You don’t say a word, just breathe him in, and you savor these last moments you’ll have with him before you return him. You’re not sure you could ever come to this beach again to swim after he leaves, he will haunt you here.

“This has been the best time of my life, mesh’la.” Din murmurs softly, his hands splayed across your back as he holds you against him. Not wanting to break the contact because it will be the last time he touches you like this. Skin to skin. He pulls back and stares into your eyes. “I’ll never forget it.” He can’t promise to come back, he doesn’t know what will happen, and he doesn’t want you to wait for a ghost.

You kiss him, soft and sweet, and you delay his departure back to his ship for as long as possible, memorizing those dark brown eyes, tracing his tattoo and the way he smiles when you run your finger along his nose. When the breeze turns cold, you shiver and he lifts you off of his lap, “come on, cyar'ika. Let’s get dressed.” He grunts as he stands up, reaching for your clothes, and you slowly dress. 

Once you’re dressed, you reach up to cup his cheek, “goodbye Din. May the force be with you.” You murmur, recognizing the force in Grogu and you haven’t asked him any questions but you assume that his son is part of the reason he has to leave.

“May…the force be with you.” Din murmurs, trying to school his face so the shock isn’t obvious. Reaching for you one last time, he pulls you close and kisses you tenderly, not a kiss of passion but one of love. “Take care of yourself, cyar'ika.” He begs softly, letting you go and turning around so he can walk to the caves to get dressed for the last time on this planet.

****

It’s been a restless night, tossing and turning when you think of Din leaving you in the morning and you know you can’t let him go. You’ll follow him across the galaxy, no questions asked. You wake up as the sun rises, rushing to get ready and gather a pack full of things. You say goodbye to your family, acting like it’s another day, and rush to the place you know his ship is parked. “Din! Din!” You shout, rushing up to the only ship in the clearing and you pant to try and catch your breath. A few months later, a man clad in armor appears and your heart stops, making you backup a little. “I- I’m looking for Din Djarin.”

Underneath the mask, Din had broken out into a smile before he appeared in front of you. Happy to hear your voice and hoping that you were going to tell him that you would come with him. That you wanted to be with him wherever he had to go. Until he steps out and your face changes. He sees the fear fill your eyes and you step back from him, wary of the man in front of you. Mando. The same reaction he gets from most. Instead of removing his helmet, Din shakes his head, lowering his voice through the modulator. “He left.” He tells you curtly, heart aching because he knows that he loves you. It’s for the best though, you are scared of the beskar, scared of who he really is. Din Djarin is just an illusion.

Your heart breaks at the news that Din has already left. The Mandalorian looks like he could snap you in two and you know he won’t want you sobbing in front of him. “Oh, uh, okay. If - if you happen to see him, can you tell him I wanted to come with him? If you see him…tell him I love him.” You tell the Mandalorian even though you know he would likely never see Din, you felt like you had to tell someone. Even if it was the imposing beskar clad Mando.

He doesn’t trust himself to answer, instead he just nods once. Watching you and memorizing your face. It’s different through the HUD and he doesn’t like it as much as looking up at your face without the separation. The news that you loved him fills his heart with joy and sorrow, hating that he can’t have what he wants. After staring for a long minute, Din turns around and starts to finish closing up the panels on the star fighter to get it ready for take off.

You stand there, watching the star fighter engines start and you swallow as the tears start to stream down your cheeks, mourning the future you could’ve had with Din. You’re not sure why you watch the Mandalorian go but just as he lifts up from the ground, your eyes widen. “Grogu?” You gasp, seeing Din’s son pop up in the back seat and you glance back at the Mando, putting two and two together. “Wait! Wait!” You shout as the starfighter lifts higher. “Din! Stop!” You scream, begging him to hear you but the engines are too loud and he doesn’t look down at you. You’re helpless, unable to do anything except watch him disappear into the sky and off into the galaxy. 

“Goodbye Din Djarin.” You sob, sinking down to the ground to cry your heart out. You’ll never forget him, the man known to the rest of the galaxy as a bounty hunter, a Mandalorian, the Mand’alor. To you, he was simply Din Djarin.

[thechibifoxcub]

I can’t take it-

He couldn’t take it anymore. The pain. The anguish. His blood ran like molten lava beneath his skin; feeling every vein traversing beneath muscle tissue and winding sinew.

His breath felt weak yet heavy at the same time. Something that shouldn’t coexist by any means, but still does despite its unrealistic design. The analogy doesn’t make sense- it shouldn’t make sense! But how can he describe the sensation that plagues him?

It must be pain… right? How else can he describe the adrenaline rushing in his body each time his eyes landed on you? He must be ill if the sudden rush of heat dusts his neck and ears each time you smiled in his direction. His mind must be loosing its grasp of reality with every syllable that dances past your lips or when the sound of your unapologetic laughter sings a sweet tune in his corrupted ears.

He must have been in pain; surely he must have been injured or poisoned or tortured in some past life from eons-past. Surely he is dwelling in some sick, twisted form of hell. His own personal prison cell. How else can he explain this newfound revelation of emotions each time his mind drifted back to you.

You.

You, who has brought some semblance of humanity back into him.

You, who has brought forth his demons and have withstood each one with a smile one your face. Like you were happy to have seen his flaws. His imperfections. His sins. To have been overjoyed to have witnessed each deplorable side of him as if it was a gift. Fought against them and (surprisingly) won when he, himself, has failed to beat them on a good day.

You, who has never left him. Never doubted him despite the lies that flow past chattering teeth. He hates himself for every word that brings you pain or that pitiful frown on your pretty lips.

He’s in agony. Because he knows that if he were to sit down and actually think about this for one second longer he’d realize that what he’s feeling isn’t anguish, but something opposite. Something softer. Sweeter. Delectable even.

He can’t take this anymore. Not after watching the crystal-like tears that now streamed past your redden cheeks after he snapped at you for something that you didn’t even do. He can’t take it anymore. He just can’t. The magma that flows through his veins hardens like coal with each drop of a salty sorrow-filled tear that drops past clenched fists and furrowed brows. The breathe that once conflicted against all reason began to cease as your once brilliant smile turned sour with anger and hurt.

He can’t take it anymore; the pain he means, as you turn your back to him for the first time since you waltzed into his once dark and lonely existence. He was in pain as he reached out in a pitiful display of remorse and fear as you stormed away into the distance.

“Misery loves company after all~” he once told himself. How he wish he could turn back time just once- to take back what he had said. To stop himself from saying things that you didn’t deserve. You had only wanted to help him. You were a kind soul, practically a Saint! And here he was, convicting you of a “crime” that you had not committed. His one sanctuary. His oasis. His SALVATION.

He can’t take it anymore. And he will do whatever it took to make it up to you.

[This is the first time I’m posting anything here so I’m sorry for any mistakes! Doing this on 3-4 hours of sleep so I apologize for any errors you might see lol. This is could be seen as an “open ending” sort of thing so take it how you see fit. Also, this can go to any person/character that you fancy, but I mainly thought of Genshin Impact/Honkai Star Rail characters and Leon Kennedy from The RE series.]

[madhatterbri]

Objection | N.J.

Summary: Reader is about to marry another guy, but Nick objects and expresses why the reader shouldn’t marry the guy. I was thinking something sweet with a little spice? ☺️

Author's Note: Happy Dynamite Wednesday, babes. ❤️

Requested by: Anonymous

Nick Jackson Masterlist

AEW Masterlist

Taglist: @smallestsnarkestgirl @magicalbuttertarts

"Don't marry him," Nick urged. Blue eyes watched her carefully. The same blue eyes seemed to read her soul even when they were children. The rejection was there. He could feel it in his heart. The wrestler cost their relationship. He was being selfish again, but he had to have her. No one else could ever have her love like he did.

"Why, Nick?" She asked. The tone of her voice was crisp. His beloved was irritated. Nick didn't blame her. He jerked her heart around for so long.

"You know why. I love you. I can change. Just, please, listen to me. I'll... I'll.... I can-,"

"No. No,"

"Please," he begged. Nick reached out for her, but she took a step back. The warmth he once felt from her long gone. This was all his fault.

"You can't ask something like that from me. Not like this. I wanted you. I've loved you since we were kids. I waited months, no, years, for you to change, and you never did,"

"I will. Just give me more time,"

"No! I refuse to wait for you any longer, Nicholas. I won't keep putting myself through the same hurt over and over again,"

Nicholas woke up to the sound of his alarm blaring. With a frustrated groan, he slammed his hand down on the clock. He rubbed his eyes and stared at the ceiling above him. The feeling of dread washed over him. Today was the day Y/N was going to get married.

He allowed himself to wallow in self-pity for a few moments longer. An alert came through on his phone. Matt, his older brother, must be checking on him. The young brother argued with himself on whether to simply ignore the text or reply. He chose the latter. His brother would have continued to bother him until he responded.

Their text exchange was simple. Matt knew his brother was a mess, and Nick lied that everything was fine. Today was fine. He was fine. Really. Except he wasn't. No matter how many times he vowed to treat today like a normal day, it wasn't possible. They were supposed to be getting married. She wasn't supposed to marry some loser she met in God knows where.

A crazy idea popped into his head. He had to convince her one more time to give him a chance. Nick never gave up on his wrestling dream. There was no way he was going to give up on the woman of his dreams.

He checked her social media page. Something he did often on nights when he missed her the most. They posed in front of the chapel they were getting married recently. Her fiance posted the picture and tagged her. The caption made him roll his eyes.

One week until the wedding!

"Not likely you stupid idiot," Nick scoffed.

The hopeful man jumped out of bed. He rushed to the bathroom and changed quickly. His legs worked in overdrive as he rushed out the house. This was his final shot and he wasn't going to let it slip away.

Y/N smiled at her best friend. The two women were drinking some mimosas before the wedding. After a few sips, the bride realized this was the worst drink to ever be made. Now she was reveling in the peace and quiet. Her best friend's phone dinged.

"Sorry. I could have sworn I put this stupid thing on silent," her best friend apologized. Once she checked her phone, she cursed. "I gotta call my boss. Work. I'll be right back. Don't have any fun without me,"

The best friend left before Y/N could say anything. She sighed and sat in front of the vanity mirror. As much as she enjoyed the quiet, she hated being alone. Her mind liked to wander when there was no one to distract her.

Her mind liked to remember her childhood with Nick. All the times she dressed in a paper wedding dress. She made him stand at a pretend altar. He hated the game, but she always loved it. Nick should be waiting for her at the altar.

The door to her room opened. The welcomed distraction ceased any thoughts of Nick.

"I thought you were going to tell me that you had to leave. I-" she stopped the moment Nick's reflection appeared in the mirror. Her mouth dropped in shock. She turned in her chair and stood up. This was no trick. He was standing right in front of her. "Nick? What are you doing here?"

"I had some help," Nick answered and motioned to her friend.

"You need to leave," she told Nick. Her attention turned to her best friend. "You, I can't believe you would do this. You are my best friend,"

"Just hear him out, Y/N. I'll be right outside the door if you need anything," she told them. Her friend shot him a don't screw this up or you'll regret it look before leaving.

"What are you doing here? I thought I was perfectly clear when I-"

"I'm sorry," he apologized. Y/N stared at him. This was the first time he ever apologized. It was always just empty promises of how he would change. "I know I put you on the back burner. Trust me, I had no plans on coming here today. But if I didn't give up on my dreams of being a wrestler, I'm not giving up on the woman of my dreams,"

Y/N felt the tears spring to her eyes. Even after all this time, he would still fight for her.

"Awww," they heard outside the door. Y/N closed her eyes. A few tears ran down her face. A soft chuckle escaped her. The poor girl was always a hopeless romantic.

"How do I know you aren't going to do this again? Nick, I want to believe you, but I've given you so many chances," she explained.

"Y/N, I love you. I won't ever stop loving you,"

Y/N watched him. Her mind and heart are fighting against the other. More than anything, she wanted to believe him. When she turned away, Nick's heart dropped. She was going to reject him again. This was it. He never would have imagined the next thing she told him.

"Unzip me,"

"What?"

"I imagine you don't want me leaving with you in a wedding dress that isn't for our wedding," she answered.

Nick sighed in relief. He unzipped the dress. The dress pooled at her feet. Now only left in her underwear and bra, Nick couldn't help but watch her. She caught him.

"Are we teenagers again, Nick?" Y/N asked with a teasing tone. She changed into a pair of shorts and a shirt. Her high heels were replaced with flip flops.

"Just enjoying the view," he answered. His hands were raised defensively. She walked over to him. He placed an arm around her waist. Her body pressed against his. "You won't regret this, Y/N,"

"I know,"

[eksvaized]

[ Previous ┃ Next ] part 12

Two weeks ago, just as Simon’s break ended, and he was preparing to leave for a mission, he asked you to be his girlfriend. The question took you by surprise, which is why at first you were hesitant to answer it. It felt like everything was moving too fast. So you tried to construct a list of reasons why you shouldn’t date him. However, you weren’t able to come up with any.

The truth was, you liked Simon. A lot. You weren’t ready to admit it to yourself yet, but deep down you knew that your feelings for him stretched out beyond friendship. Slowly, but surely, you were falling in love with him. And even though you wouldn’t dare to utter those three words out loud yet, they were tucked away in the deepest corners of your heart.

Simon was there for you when Matt started ignoring you and then left the city without saying goodbye. You learned about Matt’s departure from a series of posts on his social media. Although you tried not to care, it still hurt to know that one of the three people in your life could disappear without bothering to even send you one stupid message.

Simon was also by your side when you cried for what seemed like countless hours, when Mindy and Liz continued to ostracise you. Two people who once were your close friends, your only friends, as a matter of fact, stopped taking your calls and responding to your texts. If you happened to bump into them on the street, they would pretend not to hear you calling their names. And even when you once managed to corner Liz, she had an excuse ready and left you after a conversation that lasted exactly thirty seconds.

Once, when you wanted to drink until the pain subsided because you were sick of crying and feeling miserable, you forced Simon to go to a club with you. There you ran into Mindy and Liz. For a brief moment, it seemed as though they were not going to flee and would like to talk with you. But as soon as their eyes settled on Simon, they vanished.

Later Simon confessed that on the night your paths crossed at the club, and you saw him for the second time, Mandy couldn’t keep her hands off him. He said he tried to gently turn her down, but she refused to leave him alone. This revelation led you to a painful realisation that Mindy was jealous, and this jealousy drove her to distance herself from you. On top of that, she ensured Liz abandoned you as well.

You felt hurt, unable to comprehend why they couldn’t just be happy for you. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but you ultimately decided that if they no longer wanted to be friends, perhaps it was for the best. After all, you now had Simon by your side, and you didn’t need anyone else.

The first two months of your relationship with Simon were nothing short of spectacular. You found yourself in his company nearly every single day. He often surprised you with fancy dates to the most exquisite places. Whenever you were upset, he could immediately sense the shift in your emotions, and was ready to do anything it took to ease your distress. If he had to move mountains to keep you happy and smiling, he would do so without a question.

However, the picture-perfect fairytale you were living in was slightly dampened when he mentioned he was going to be away for two weeks. As a lieutenant and a skilled soldier, you knew he would eventually have to return to work, even if he didn’t talk about it much. Yet, you weren’t prepared for the wave of loneliness that would wash over you once he left for a mission.

You texted him every day, letting him know how your day was. Occasionally, if you were lucky, and if Simon had a minute or two to spare, he would call you. The conversations were always hurried and short. But that didn’t matter because you got to hear his voice, you got to hear him say how much he missed you, and how he couldn’t wait to come home and see you, kiss you, and be with you.

You never realised that falling in love could be so effortless. It was the first time you were in a relationship where there were no fights, no pointless arguments, or useless bickering. Loving Simon was easy. However, the enormous distance that separated you two was a constant thorn in your side. It made you ache for his presence, yearning to feel the warmth of his touch against your skin.

Each night before falling asleep, you would think of him. Your mind would wander to the nights you spent together, remembering how his fingers would delicately trace patterns on your back. His sweet whispers in your ear were like a lullaby, serenading you until dreams took over.

But all of that is in the past now. Two weeks had gone by and he was coming home tomorrow. You wanted to do something special, so you decided to cook him dinner as a surprise.

Before Simon left, you spent practically every day at his house. He wouldn’t tell you, but he preferred staying at his home rather than yours. You, on the other hand, didn’t care which bed you slept in as long as you were together. Because of this, you had the key to his place. He had left you it for emergencies. But you haven’t used the key once, and over time it found its way into a glass bowl on the kitchen counter, amongst other trinkets, where it was accumulating dust until now.

The next morning, you woke up early, took a long shower and headed straight to the store because you knew Simon’s fridge was going to be empty. By the time you finally got to Simon’s house, it was already noon. If he wasn’t lying about the time he was coming home, and if your calculations were correct, you had plenty of time to plan your surprise and cook a delicious meal. The last time you ventured into the kitchen, things hadn’t gone exactly as planned. In fact, it had been a disaster. But this time it would be different, you assured yourself.

But as you started cooking, you suddenly came to the realisation that you had forgotten to buy wine. Simon had a bottle of whisky stowed away, unopened, and gathering dust in the back of the fridge. However, you disliked the bitter taste of it, and it wouldn’t pair well with the meal you were making. Plus, you preferred wine, so after glancing at the clock on the wall, you saw that you still had enough time to run to the shop.

The table in the dining room was set. Everything was almost ready, which is why you decided you needed to leave a note for Simon, in case he returned earlier than expected, while you are still out. Looking around, you tried to find a piece of paper and a pen. Your eyes scanned each room, but unless you wanted to rip a page out of some book or write by dipping the tip of the knife in the sauce, you found nothing.

You were walking back to the kitchen when your gaze fell on the door, which led to Simon’s office. Usually, that room was locked. The first time you stayed for a night here, the curiosity had got the better of you and asked what kind of secrets he kept hidden in there. Simon laughed and rolled his eyes, saying that the room contained shelves filled with sensitive and classified military files, which he preferred to keep under lock.

You respected his privacy, and unless he allowed you to go in there, you generally avoided his office. But now, you needed a pen and paper, and you will surely find what you require there. Hesitantly, you walked towards the door. Your fingers wrapped around the metal handle — honestly, you were expecting it to be locked, because it always was — but as you pushed the door, it creaked and swung open.

The moment you stepped into the room, a feeling of guilt settled upon your shoulders, clinging to your conscience and reminding you that you shouldn’t be in here. You tried to shake it off, repeatedly reassuring yourself that once you get what you need, you will leave. In the silent room, after you found a black pen and a piece of paper, you scribbled a quick note, adding a pair of little hearts to the corner.

Just as you were stepping out into the hallway, your eyes inexplicably found themselves drawn towards the corner of the room. Nestled among a few black folders on the tall shelf was a box that caught your attention. You weren’t sure why it stirred such curiosity within you, but it did. A quiet voice in the back of your head told you to leave it alone — you had no right to look inside. But instead of heeding your gut feeling, you grabbed the box and sat down at the desk.

After removing the lid, you felt perplexed. You weren’t sure what you were expecting to find, but it definitely wasn’t a random assortment of items that resembled a heap of insignificant trinkets and rubbish. However, then your eyes settled on the flower that lay atop the clutter. You picked it up. Upon closer inspection, you recognised it as the very same flower you had made out of the napkin at the club. You thought it was sweet that Simon kept it. You were aware of his softer side, but you never considered him to be sentimental.

You continued looking through it, now eager to discover what else you could find.

You spotted a receipt. Its edges were crumpled, and the ink was faded, but you still could make out the letters and some numbers. As you examined it, seeing what was bought and on which day, you realised Simon had kept this after the first time he met you, and saved you from embarrassment by paying for your coffee.

There was also a notebook. You flipped through the pages, but nothing made any sense to you. The pages were filled with a random mix of vaguely familiar addresses and a hand-drawn calendar with some things scribbled in it. You were about to close the notebook and throw it to the side, but then you spotted your name. Under it was a meticulously compiled bullet point list of various facts about you. Okay, that was a little strange, perhaps even slightly unsettling, but nothing too out of the ordinary. You attempted to reassure yourself by trying to rationalise what you were seeing. Maybe Simon just liked to keep track of things.

However, the more you looked at the contents inside the box, the more disturbed you became.

You pulled out a crimson fabric and after letting it unfurl in between your fingers; you realised that these wear your panties. As if touched by cold frost, a sudden chill shot down your spine, causing you to nervously gulp and swallow hard. Instead of methodically going through the box and ensuring you memorised the location of each item so you could put everything back together exactly as it was, you began rifling through things quickly and haphazardly.

You discovered a few random keys and a stack of neatly arranged photographs. You picked them up to get a better look, but when you comprehended what you were looking at, they slid out of your fingers and scattered all over the floor. These were very promiscuous pictures of Mindy. A wave of nausea washed over you, forcing you to close your eyes and take a deep breath. And only one thought was echoing in your mind: has Simon taken these?

This all made no sense to you. But the longer you stayed glued to the ground, gripping onto the edge of the desk so hard that your knuckles turned white, the more questions began to surface in your head, causing havoc within you. Was Simon some kind of creep, a pervert who won your trust and blinded you with his lies? The evidence seemed to suggest that, but the very thought was unnerving.

And then there were pictures of Mindy, impossible to ignore, and which were a testament to his hidden obsession. Why did he have those images? You couldn’t help but wonder if this was the reason Mindy started avoiding you. Was Simon holding these over her head?

You also found a phone. Despite the web of cracks on the screen, it had a full battery and no password. As you scrolled through the address book and old conversations, trying to determine the owner, it dawned on you — this was Matt’s. There was no doubt about it. Your number was there, along with the messages he had sent to you. Another wave of sickness washed over you, making your vision blur.

You were on the verge of fainting. Your heart was pounding violently against your ribcage like a drum. Each beat echoing in your ears. Every muscle in your body screamed in protest as you extended your trembling hand towards the box and took the last item out of it. You brought the glass jar close to your face. In it were teeth – human teeth. An icy chill ran down your spine, causing you to gag as your body recoiled.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Simon wasn’t the man you believed him to be. The man you thought you knew was a stranger to you now. There was a storm brewing inside you, a sea of emotions waiting to spill. All you wanted to do was slow down and try to comprehend everything, but you had no time to do that. Before Simon came home, you needed to get out of this house. If he will find you here, in his office, standing by the desk looking at the open box, he might... You shook your head. The fear was swallowing you, but you refused to think of it and instead began to act. In haste, you scooped all the pictures up from the floor and carelessly put everything else back in the box, which you then placed back on the shelf.

You ran out of the office and back to the kitchen. You didn’t stop to wash the dirty dishes in the sink nor you wasted a second to clean up the dining room. With shaking hands, you started gathering all your stuff. But just as you leaned over the counter and grabbed the phone, you heard the front door open. Your blood turned to ice, and you froze. Your pupils dilated in fear, reflecting the terror that gripped you, and a rush of panic surged through your veins.

Simon.

“Y/N?” His weary voice reverberated through the house.

Paralyzed by fear, all you wanted to do was scream and run, but the eerie sounds of the footsteps coming towards the kitchen held you in place. Your body, rigid and immovable, refused to heed the desperate pleas of your mind. Your back was pressed against the rough counter’s edge. You could feel it digging into your flesh. Your phone was in your trembling hand, and your eyes, wide with terror, were fixed on the doorway, unable to look away.

You found yourself cornered, with no other choice but to face him. The window of opportunity to flee had closed. Now, all you could do was to act normal, to pretend that everything was just as it should be. Then, when an opportunity presents itself, you will seize it and get out of this house, slipping away from Simon’s grasp.

Simon entered the kitchen.

“Hey,” the corners of your lips tugged upwards. A faint smile appeared on your face. You chose to speak in short, clipped sentences, afraid that the longer ones might trip you up, cause you to stutter and betray your anxiety. “I hoped to surprise you. But... but you came home early.”

“Surprise me?” He asked, creasing his brow in confusion. His eyes then drifted over to the sink, and he noticed a tower of dishes in it.

“I made a dinner.”

Your fingers fiddled with the phone, a futile attempt to keep your trembling hands under control. A fleeting thought crossed your mind - you should call the police. The mere idea of seeking help was like a beacon of hope in the overwhelming darkness. But as soon as you unlocked your phone, Simon approached you. Instinctively, your first reaction was to jerk away from him. However, you forced yourself to stay still and pushed your phone back into your jeans’ back pocket.

“Mind if I take a quick shower first? And perhaps change out of these grimy clothes before we sit down to eat, okay?” He spoke softly as he closed the gap between your bodies. You could feel the warmth of his breath caressing your skin. He dipped his head, and his lips brushed over yours.

Despite the shortness of the kiss, you felt your muscles tighten. His touch, once a source of comfort, now left you reeling, dizzy, but not in the intoxicating way it used to.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, his voice laced with concern. You could feel his fingers gliding down your arms before he placed his hand on the back of your waist.

Fuck. You realised you weren’t doing a good enough job of acting like the loving girlfriend you were supposed to be.

“Yes, of course,” you replied, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. You mustered a faint smile, hoping it would conceal the turmoil you felt inside. In an attempt to distract yourself, you took a step back, retreating towards the sink and turned on the water. You hoped washing the dishes would help you to mask your quivering fingers. “Just had a hard day at work. That’s all.”

Your rather feeble excuse seemed to work, and he bought it. The conversation continued to drag on for a bit longer. He promised that as soon as he cleans himself up, he will help you to take your mind off it all. You nodded, perhaps a tad too eagerly, desperate to have him leave you alone.

“Just go,” you found yourself saying, more out of urgency than anything else, when he continued to linger idly in the kitchen. You felt his eyes glued to your back. His gaze made you want to curl up, which is why you instead focused on the feeling of warm water running through your fingers. “We don’t want to eat a cold dinner,” you added, after realising that you might not be doing a great job at masking your restlessness.

He looked at you with an expression of mild confusion. His eyes swept over the side of your face as if he was trying to read your mind. But after a moment, he gave you a nod and ventured out of the kitchen.

For what seemed like an eternity, but it was only a minute, you remained completely still. Your feet were rooted to the cold tiles, and every muscle in your body was taut with tension. You didn’t dare to move; the breath getting stuck in your lungs until you heard the bathroom door open. After it closed, without a moment of hesitation, you raced towards the front door.

“I have to run to a shop real quick,” you called out, your voice echoing in the hallway. You were already halfway into your shoes, your fingers fumbling with the laces in your haste. You prayed that this excuse would buy you time, and he wouldn’t question why you were leaving. There was a slight tremor in your voice, a hint of fear that threatened to swallow your body, but you pushed it down, desperately hoping that he wouldn’t pick up on it. “I...I forgot to buy the wine.”

You opened the door, and an icy gust of wind swept over your body. You could feel the cold seeping into your bones, making you shiver. But before you could take a single step and go outside, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over you. It was as if the world had tilted on its axis, with everything around you spinning and blurring together. A shaky breath escaped you after your lips parted, and then your surroundings began to fade, as if they were being swallowed by an all-consuming darkness. And then there was nothing but absolute blackness. Your legs gave out, and you collapsed in the hallway. Just before your consciousness slipped away, you heard the front door shut.

[sugarsnappeases]

WHO UP LILYROSEKILLING THEMSELVES?!

if yes, i have (unedited, be nice to me) snippetty-snip ❤️

When she turns to look at them again, inevitable really, a sort of irresistible pull - she’s curious about them, fascinated for some reason, inexplicably drawn to them - they aren’t in the booth anymore. Instead, her eyes find them out on the dance floor, which has filled considerably in the couple of hours since she’s been here - she’s sure it must be after midnight by now, and the whole place is bustling. There’s still quite a bit of space on the dance floor though, despite all the people, and the two men aren’t using any of it; they exist entirely in each other’s personal space, hands everywhere, dancing, or grinding really, so close together that they almost look like one conjoined creature.

The blond has his hands in the jeans backpocket of the lanky one, who has his face buried in the blond’s neck, folded over him in a way that should look comical but is making Lily blush a little. It’s just - intimate, they’re entirely in their own world, clearly obsessed with each other, devoted, and Lily thinks that’s something that she would really quite like to experience for herself. Maybe James had been obsessed with her, the way he chased after her for years, but she thought that he had probably been more obsessed with the idea of her than who she actually was, not that she really allowed anyone to see who she actually was back then, but anyway these two, out on the dance floor, are obsessed with each other in a way that ran deeper than appearances and expectations. 

They’re obsessed with each other down to the very marrow, cutting each other open and revelling in, revering, every drop of blood that spills, she thinks that they would probably let each other be messy and selfish and angry and cruel and awful and that they would look at the rot that lived inside the other, the knives, the imperfection, and still never let them go, still worship the ground they walked on. Lily didn’t actually know them, but looking at them - the blond one’s hands moving out of the jeans’ pockets and moving to slide under their waistband instead, the lanky one bringing a hand up and running it through the blond one’s hair, pulling his head back to lock their lips together - she’s sure that she’s right.

She’s also probably jealous, and projecting, and delusional. 

And drunk. 

It’s the last of these factors that makes her think fuck it, maybe she doesn’t need to try and forget about them, maybe she can down her drink, leave the guy who’s name she still can’t remember at the bar, and head out onto the dancefloor. 

More than the alcohol, she’s also promised herself that she’s going to try new things and do what she wants without waiting for permission from some impossible higher power, and what she wants right now is to slide herself in between these two men and hope that they’ll decide to worship the ground that she walks on too. 

It’s something visceral, the way she wants them, something she doesn’t think she’s ever fully felt about a person, or people, before, that kind of instinctive hungering that makes her want to dig her fingernails into their skin and never let go, makes her want to become a part of their conjoined creature, to make a monstrosity - a freak, Petunia would say, but Lily likes the sound of it this time, because she is feeling a little freaky, and maybe there’s nothing wrong with that. 

She isn’t entirely sure how she manages it, what with the way they’re plastered against each other, with the way they’re dancing and kissing and clinging to each other, there shouldn’t be room for anything between the two of them. Maybe they see her coming and separate slightly, or maybe she forces them apart and works her way in herself, but either way she ends up standing between the two of them, the lanky one behind her and the blond in front of her. The top two buttons of the blond’s shirt are now undone and it’s making her feel a little weak in the knees as one set of hands settles on her hips and another wraps around her waist. He smiles at her, bright, white teeth, and his eyes, level with hers as she stands in her heels, are a piercing blue, that same curiosity mixed with something a little more feral. 

“We were hoping you’d come over,” he says, and if the three of them weren’t pressed together so tightly she thinks she might have fallen over then, because that’s an entirely unfair thing to say to her. As it is, the lanky one is draping himself over her in the same way that he had been draping himself over the blond earlier and really, if they felt her sway a little in their arms she was sure she could just pretend she was dancing.

It’s a little overwhelming, how immediately connected she feels to them, in the way those blue eyes are staring into hers, and in the way there are hands holding her like she’s something precious, a treasure, and in the way there’s a chin resting on her shoulder now; the two men welcoming her into their dynamic like she was made to fit there, in between them. She thinks she could get addicted to it, obsessed with it, very easily - it might even have happened already.

She leans back against the chest of the lanky one, turning her head to try and get his face in her line of vision. His eyes are a greenish sort of hazel, glinting with that same intensity that seems to exist in everything these two do, and she smiles at him as he moves his head to look at her better. 

“I kinda wanna kiss your boyfriend, if you don’t mind,” she says, smile turning into a grin, once again thinking fuck it and turning back to face the blond one before the lanky one can reply, lifting her hands to tangle them in his hair, mussing it up more, pulling his face to hers and pressing their lips together.