#okay but this is the first time he made this kind of heart

[xo100]

Coming home - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary/request: by anon; ‘y/n drunk in a club and calling lando to pick her up 🙈 him being patient and gentle 🫶🏼 thank you!!!’

*:･ﾟ Word count: 2214

୨ৎ

It had been a quiet evening for Lando Norris. The kind of evening he loved, where the house was filled with the gentle hum of the TV, and the warmth of home comforted him after a long day. He’d spent most of his time winding down, his thoughts often drifting to his girlfriend, who had texted him earlier in the day, saying she’d be out with friends tonight.

“You have fun,” he had told her with a smile before she left, his hands gently resting on her hips as he gave her a kiss goodbye.

She never went out too often—mostly a homebody unlike him—so he had encouraged her to enjoy herself, to have a night of fun and laughter, with drinks if she felt like it. He knew she didn’t really drink much, maybe a cocktail here or there, but nothing excessive. She had always been mindful, careful, but tonight seemed a little different.

-

It was around midnight when Lando's phone buzzed.

At first, he didn’t think much of it. He figured it would be one of those casual updates, maybe a quick check-in to let him know she was alright. But when he glanced at the screen, the sight of her name at the top of the message thread made him pause, and the message itself made him frown slightly in confusion.

“I’msogldmkgoig,” the text read. He blinked, squinting at the screen.

Lando tilted his head, trying to decipher the meaning of the garbled message. Was she typing in some kind of code? Then it hit him—a small smile tugged at his lips. She was drunk. Really drunk.

Shaking his head with a soft chuckle, he swiped open his phone, his thumbs moving quickly over the screen.

“Hey, you okay? Need me to pick you up?”

It took a minute or two for a response to come in, and when it did, it was no clearer than the first.

“nnoOOO immmmperf!!! ssssgood igot this!!! 😊😊😊”

Lando laughed under his breath, a fond smile settling on his face. He could just imagine her sitting at a table with her friends, holding her phone up way too close to her face, squinting at the keyboard as she tried to string a sentence together. She always got flustered when her texts came out wrong, even more so when she had a bit too much to drink.

He tried calling her, but it rang for a moment before she declined it. Another message popped up.

“ssorryyyyy busyy having fun witt gurls!! 🎉🍹”

Lando raised an eyebrow. He knew her friends, and he had no doubt they were looking after her, but it was clear she was teetering on the edge of tipsy and downright hammered.

A part of him wanted to laugh at the situation, but the protective part of him nudged forward. He’d rather her be home and safe than out and struggling to figure out how to text properly.

After sending her another message asking if she needed help, he waited, watching the dots of her typing bubble appear and disappear before another string of incomprehensible words filled the chat.

Then, finally, she called him.

Her name flashed across the screen, and Lando answered quickly.

“Hiiiii,” she sang into the phone, her voice bright but undeniably slurred.

“Hey, love,” Lando said softly, leaning back on the couch, the smile in his voice impossible to miss. “You doing okay over there?”

There was a brief pause on the other end, a bit of shuffling and background noise as her friends laughed and chatted around her. “Mmmm, I think soooo,” she said, dragging out the words. “But Landoooo, guess what?”

“What?” Lando humored her, knowing she probably had no idea where this conversation was going.

“I miss youuuu,” she said with a giggle, her voice softening with an endearing whine. “Like, really, really miss you.”

Lando’s heart did a little flip, warmth spreading in his chest. “I miss you too,” he replied, his voice dropping into that gentle, affectionate tone he used whenever they were being sweet with each other. “How about I come pick you up, hmm? I think it’s time to get you home.”

There was another pause, and he could hear the muffled sound of her friends in the background again, likely checking in on her. Then she whispered into the phone, as if telling him the world’s biggest secret, “Okay… but don’t tell anyone… I’m a little drunk.”

Lando chuckled, shaking his head fondly. “You don’t say.”

“But I’m not… that drunk,” she continued, her words tumbling over each other. “Just… a little.”

“Sure, babe,” Lando said playfully, standing up from the couch and grabbing his keys. “I’ll be there in a bit, alright? Stay with your friends. I’m on my way.”

“‘Kayyy,” she sighed, clearly relieved. “Lando?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re the best,” she whispered, her voice filled with a drunken sincerity that made Lando’s chest tighten in the best way.

He grinned, shaking his head again as he headed out the door. “You’re not too bad yourself, love.”

-

The drive to the bar wasn’t long. Lando had been there with her and her friends before, and he knew the route by heart. As he pulled up, his eyes immediately scanned the front of the building, and sure enough, he spotted her standing with a few of her friends near the curb, her posture relaxed but a little wobbly. She was laughing at something one of them had said, her phone clutched in one hand, her jacket loosely draped over her shoulders.

Lando parked and stepped out of the car, his eyes softening as they landed on her. She looked up and saw him, her face lighting up in a way that made his heart skip. She immediately broke into a wide, tipsy grin, her eyes sparkling as she waved enthusiastically.

“Landooo!” she called, drawing out his name in that adorable, exaggerated way she always did when she was happy to see him.

He chuckled, making his way over to her, his hands slipping into his pockets as he approached. “Hey, you,” he greeted, his voice warm and teasing.

She stumbled slightly as she moved toward him, but he was quick to catch her, his hands gently wrapping around her waist to steady her. “Careful, love,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

Her arms looped around his neck as she looked up at him, her eyes a little glassy but full of affection. “You came,” she said, her voice softer now, as if the reality of him being there had just hit her.

“Of course I did,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “I wasn’t gonna leave you here drunk and texting me gibberish all night.”

She giggled, her cheeks flushing. “I wasn’t texting gibberish!”

Lando raised an eyebrow, pulling out his phone and holding up her messages for her to see. “You sure about that?”

She squinted at the screen, her face scrunching up in concentration before she groaned, burying her face in his chest. “Okay, maybe a little gibberish,” she mumbled.

He laughed softly, wrapping his arms around her a little tighter. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

She let out a dramatic sigh, looking up at him with wide, playful eyes. “But I was having funnn,” she whined, though the smile tugging at her lips told him she was more than happy to go with him.

“I’m sure you were,” Lando said with a smirk. “But you’ll have more fun when you’re not regretting all those drinks tomorrow.”

She pouted up at him for a moment before her expression softened, her hand coming up to gently cup his cheek. “You’re so good to me,” she whispered, her voice carrying that drunken tenderness again.

Lando’s heart melted at her words, and he leaned down to kiss her softly, his lips brushing against hers with all the love and patience in the world. “Only because you’re worth it,” he murmured against her lips before pulling back slightly. “Come on, let’s get you in the car.”

-

The drive home was quiet, her head resting against the window as the streetlights flickered by. Every now and then, she’d glance over at him, her eyes soft and full of affection. He’d catch her staring and smile, reaching over to squeeze her hand gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in soothing circles.

“You’re really cute, you know that?” she said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando laughed softly. “Am I?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, her eyes drifting shut as she leaned back into the seat. “Really, really cute.”

He shook his head, the fondness in his chest swelling as he stole a glance at her. “You’re something else.”

By the time they got home, she was half-asleep, her body heavy with the exhaustion that always seemed to follow a night of drinking. Lando parked the car and got out, walking over to her side and opening the door. She stirred slightly, her eyes blinking open as he reached out a hand to help her up.

“You okay to walk?” he asked gently.

She nodded, though her movements were slow and sleepy. He wrapped an arm around her waist, guiding her out of the car as she leaned into him for support. Her head rested against his shoulder, and a small, content sigh escaped her lips as they made their way toward the house.

Lando unlocked the door and led her inside, his grip gentle but firm. She stumbled a little on her way through the doorway, giggling at her own clumsiness.

“You’re like my knight in shining armor,” she slurred playfully, looking up at him with a soft smile as they stood in the entryway. “Except you drive a McLaren instead of a horse.”

Lando chuckled, rolling his eyes in amusement. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She nodded, her head resting back on his shoulder as they made their way down the hallway to their bedroom. “It’s totally a compliment,” she mumbled, her voice getting quieter with each word. “You’re perfect.”

They reached the bed, and Lando helped her sit down, carefully slipping off her shoes. “Alright, love,” he said softly, “let's get you into something more comfortable.”

She whined in protest, her arms going limp as she dramatically fell back onto the bed, her legs still dangling off the edge. “But I’m already sooo comfy,” she groaned.

Lando smirked, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered affectionately as he knelt down to take her shoes off. Then he stood, heading to the closet to grab one of his oversized hoodies—one she always liked to wear—and brought it back to her.

With a bit of gentle coaxing, he helped her change out of her clothes, into the soft hoodie that smelled faintly of him. She sighed in contentment, snuggling into the fabric as soon as it was on.

“There you go,” he whispered, brushing her hair back from her face. “All cozy.”

She smiled sleepily at him, her eyes half-lidded as she gazed up at him. “Lando?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

The words came out soft and vulnerable, almost like a confession. Even though she was drunk, there was a deep sincerity in her voice that made his heart ache in the best way. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead before resting his own forehead against hers.

“I love you too” he murmured, his voice filled with all the affection he’d been holding onto since the moment she had called him. “So much.”

She smiled, her eyes fluttering closed as she snuggled deeper into the blankets. “You’re the best boyfriend ever,” she mumbled, her words slurring together as sleep started to claim her.

Lando stayed there for a moment, just watching her, his heart swelling with warmth. He could see the way her breathing slowed, her body relaxing completely as she drifted off to sleep. Even in her drunken state, she was still the girl he adored—the one who made him laugh, who always knew how to make him smile, and who filled his life with more joy than he ever thought possible.

He stood up slowly, making sure she was tucked in before he changed into his own clothes for the night. Sliding into bed next to her, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. She instinctively moved toward him, her body curling into his as she sighed in contentment.

Lando pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, his fingers gently brushing through her hair as he whispered, “Goodnight, love.”

And as she slept peacefully in his arms, he couldn’t help but smile, his heart full. Because nights like this—where he could be there for her, take care of her, and remind her just how much he loved her—were the ones that made everything worth it.

She might have been a little too drunk tonight, but to Lando, she was perfect in every way. And as they lay there, tangled together in the quiet comfort of their home, he knew he wouldn’t trade a single moment of it for the world.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; Hey anon! I hope you enjoyed it and that this was what you had in mind! If not let me know so I can change things! Enjoy it, love! I’m also currently working on part 3 of baking cookies, coming online soon!

[reiding-writing]

Heyy i was wondering if i could have a workshop session? Also congrats on reaching 2k i literally lovee your posts.

So i had this idea about early season spencer and a movie director reader, so basically sorta like the episode with lila archer except reader is really famous and makes mostly sci-fi movies or something spencer would watch, and someone on her set is a witness for a crime or connected to one and now that they dissapeared the BAU sent spencer and maybe derek to ask reader about what they know. But spencer is lowkey kind of silently fan girling lmao like when he first met rossi. I hope this idea isn't too cringe but its just something i thought of, and also its like 3am so my brain isn't functioning properly. Anyways thank yeww

STARstruck — SPENCER REID!

Spencer is a nerd who appreciates accurate scientific knowledge in the media he consumes, and you, are his literal idol in that aspect.

s1!spencer x fem!director!reader | 1.2k | fluff | 2k book fayre !!

a/n — this idea is so cute bro i love it

main masterlist. | event masterlist.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the towering glass windows of the Hollywood studio, casting a golden glow over the sleek set design.

Cameras, lighting rigs, and intricate models of spaceships and futuristic cities filled the massive room, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and slightly burnt popcorn lingered in the air.

Spencer took a deep breath as he stepped onto the set, eyes wide with a mix of awe and nervous excitement.

“You okay, pretty boy?” Morgan smirked as he nudged Spencer in the arm. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Spencer quickly adjusted the messenger bag on his shoulder, fiddling with the leather strap. “I’m fine,” He mumbled, although his gaze kept drifting toward the bustling crew members setting up for the next scene.

It wasn’t just the high-tech equipment that caught his attention; it was the fact that you was somewhere on this set. A literal legend in the movie world who had created some of Spencer's favourite films, the mind behind the intricate worlds he had spent years analysing and rewatching.

Not just a famous director, but one of the most influential minds in science fiction cinema, with a literal PhD in theoretical astrophysics, your movies weren’t just blockbusters—they were intellectually stimulating.

Films layered with complex theories of time travel, quantum physics, and human evolution. Spencer had spent hours after screenings debating the logic behind your plot twists, tracing your influences back to classic literature and obscure scientific studies.

He might have even written a paper about your work for one of his side projects.

Maybe.

“Alright, fanboy, whatever you say,” Morgan chuckled, clearly noticing the star-struck look on Spencer’s face. “We’re here for business, remember? We need to talk to her about the missing witness.”

Right. The reason they were actually here. One of the set designers from your latest film had disappeared. They had been linked to a crime scene across town, and now the BAU was trying to piece together their whereabouts.

As the two made their way past towering green screens and actors in elaborate futuristic costumes, Spencer’s heart rate quickened. There you were, standing near the director's chair, deep in conversation with a producer.

Morgan was the one to actually call your attention, flashing his FBI badge. “Excuse me, Doctor, I’m Agent Derek Morgan, and this is Dr. Spencer Reid, we’re with the FBI.”

Your eyes widen momentarily, before settling in understanding. “Pleasure to meet you both,” You motion for the two to follow you away from the busy set for the impending conversation.

Spencer tried to find his voice, but it was like his brain had short-circuited the moment you looked at him. The woman who had crafted entire galaxies and explored the intricacies of human consciousness in film now actually knew he existed.

“I—uh—” He stammered, glancing at the wall behind you before meeting your eyes. “I just wanted to say I’ve been a huge fan of your work for years. Your understanding of nonlinear time theory in Chrono Rift was... incredible—”

Morgan’s grin widened, and Spencer could feel his cheeks burning. He was not making a good first impression.

You, however, smiled warmly, your expression softening. “Thank you, Dr. Reid. It’s always nice to meet someone who appreciates the science behind the ‘science-fiction’.”

The way his eyes seem to soften in the wake of your thanks is endearing, matched with a pink flush to behind his glasses he attempts to brush a stubborn lick of hair from his eye.

It’s a natural attractiveness, one that’s sweet and a little awkward.

“But I assume you didn’t come here just to talk about quantum mechanics?”

Spencer cleared his throat, refocusing on the case. “Right, yes uh— We’re trying to locate one of your set designers, Adrian Moss. We believe they may have been involved with a recent crime, and they disappeared shortly after. Did Adrian mention anything unusual to you? Anyone they seemed nervous around?”

Your brows furrowed slightly in concern. “Adrian? No, they seemed fine. A little… distracted maybe, but I thought it was just the stress of the shoot. I had no idea they were involved in anything criminal.”

Morgan took over to save himself the second-hand embarrassment of Spencer’s stammering, smoothly steering the conversation. “Is there anyone on set Adrian might’ve had conflicts with? Or someone who seemed to be paying them too much attention?”

You paused, considering the question. “Not that I can think of, but I can ask around. The crew is like a family you know? People talk— if Adrian was in trouble, someone will have noticed.”

As the conversation continued, Spencer slowly found his footing again, chiming in with more questions about Adrian’s behavior and their role on set. But every now and then, his mind drifted to the fact that he was standing in the presence of one of his idols. And not only were you brilliant, but you were also kind.

After wrapping up their questions, you pulled out a small business card, handing it towards Morgan. “If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to give me a call. I’ll make sure the crew knows to cooperate fully with your investigation,”

Morgan pocketed the card with a small nod. “Thanks for your help. We’ll be in touch.”

As they turned to leave, you called out, “Oh, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer froze, turning back to face you. He genuinely felt like he might explode.

“If you ever want to debate time travel paradoxes or poke holes in my logic, I’d be happy to grab a coffee sometime.”

Spencer’s brain went blank for a second, and all he managed was a stunned, “Uh, yeah! I mean—yes, that sounds great.”

With a smile, you waved them off, returning to your work.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Derek clapped Spencer on the back, laughing. “I’ve never seen you like this, man. Fanboying over a director? That’s a new one.”

Spencer gave him a sheepish grin, although not one that tries to dispel his accusation. “She’s not just a director, Morgan. She’s a genius.”

“Well, genius, genius or not, you might actually have a shot there. But let’s focus on finding this missing designer before you start planning your first date.”

Spencer chuckled, still a little dazed but ready to get back to work. He couldn’t help but feel that, no matter how this case turned out, his emotional outcome was going to be a net positive.

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Last, Last Time

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (she/her pronouns)

WC: ~7.3k

TW: Angst, guns, violence, mentions of domestic violence, blood, swearing, depression, kidnapping, manipulation, self-deprecating thoughts, heartbreak, arguing, the grieving process, drinking, screaming, crying, sobbing, throwing up, being under pressure, and anything else that comes with a criminal minds episode.

a/n: based on S15 E6 - first date. I love u aubrey plaza <3. Also inspired by the song Last, Last Time by Boys Go To Jupitar. writing this was a little bit of a catharsis since it's one of the first things I've been able to write. I'm sorry I've been so m.i.a., i just moved to a new country and that has been a crazy experience. But to cope with that, enjoy some gut-wrenching angst!

Spencer Masterlist

“Spencer I won’t—I can’t keep doing this. I’m sick of arguing in circles.” 

“Y/n…”

“I-I feel like you take me for fucking granted Spencer. All I do is work and then come home and wait for you to actually be able to, I don’t know, sleep in the same bed as me for more than four hours.”

The look in his eyes almost took you out but your heart had already been broken long, long before this argument. If anything, you were starting to feel this sense of freedom as you broke his heart. 

“Please. Y/n. Just–I don’t—Just give me a few days to convince Hotch to let me have some time off and we can work on this please.” 

“Wait for the potential of us?” 

Spencer’s jaw loosened. You couldn’t read beyond the initial layer of pain and confusion, which made your chest ache since not too long ago you could have been able to find everything you needed in his expression.

“God Spencer this can’t be fucking news to you. We’ve been drifting apart for months now.” 

“I know, I know. You have been so patient with me and I’ve just been….there was that whole thing with Cat and then….I-I was trying so hard y/n…”

“No, first there was that whole thing with Maeve.”

“That’s not fair—”

“Oh that’s not fair? Really? You’re going to tell me the entire Maeve thing isn’t fair to you?”

“I’m sorry.”

You sighed and closed your eyes. “I’m not saying you weren’t trying but come one Spencer. There’s no need to deny this shit anymore. I hate it when you lie to me about these kinds of things.” 

Spencer’s hand came up to his face and it dragged down, aging him significantly with the fatigue written all over his face. 

“So you’re just going to pack up everything, break my heart, and leave? Were you even going to say goodbye, or was I going to come home to an empty home. A note or....” 

“I-I don’t know Spencer. I just don’t…” 

The tears were starting to creep in, and you had to place the box down before you lost it.

“This isn’t easy for me either…” Your chest heaved. 

The both of you stood in silence, tension simmering surrounding the both of you like heat on a summer’s eve. Neither of you could really look at one another, but it felt wrong to look at anything else. Something was missing but you couldn’t say it outloud. You knew you would always love Spencer Reid but this time it was not enough. 

“I’m tired of arguing Spencer.” 

Your eyes met his. You felt Spencer’s arms around you before you could even feel the tears hit your cheeks. Your arms immediately went to his neck, so familiar. No longer home. 

Spencer’s voice muttered into your ear. “Don’t cry Jolie. It’ll be okay..” 

About three years ago, Spencer had decided that he didn’t like that you had nicknames for him, and he had none for you. He spent weeks workshopping different ones : Sugar, Honey, Pumpkin, Sweetheart, Darlin, Pookie, Lover, Sunny (like sunshine), Sunshine—it was a wild few weeks trying to figure out who he was talking to. Then one day, offhandedly, he was trying to tell you about this french film he had been watching, and trying to get Emily to watch with him. 

He called you ‘tres jolie’, and blushing you had asked him what it meant. He told you it meant pretty. 

And it stuck. 

Now? It stung. 

All you could do was squeeze tightly onto him, not ready to let go.

“You’re so pretty when you’re lying through your teeth.” You whispered after a few moments, pulling away out of his arms. 

“I.” You swallow and step back, out of his reach. “Maybe I’ll...” 

Spencer just looked up at the ceiling, trying to hold in the tears that were streaming down his face. 

You grabbed the last box on the counter and your keys, and walked out, for the last time. 

You awoke in your bed, eyes adjusting to the complete darkness the blackout curtains provided you. 

Another fucking night thinking about your decision those four years ago, and how your life may have gotten better because of it. 

Moving to get up from the bed, you decided to leave the curtains closed for now, feeling as if you could melt from the sun touching you. 

You turned on the bathroom light and started your morning routine. Wash face. Take meds. Brush teeth. Fix hair—

Somewhere in that process, you got lost, and just stared at yourself in the mirror. You weren’t sure for how long. All you could do was replay the last four years. 

Did you make the right choice? You were happy, you had your dream job. 

Maybe it was true what they say, you can only have a career or love, but not both—

The only thing taking you out of this spiral was the ringer on your phone going off. 

This caused some hesitation because your phone’s ringer was always off––the loud noise startling you. There were only a few people who had that emergency bypass, and none of them had called you in four years. 

You peaked out of the bathroom and saw the name light up on your phone. 

Emily Prentiss

______________________________________________________________

The door to the round room opened up and in walked Spencer Reid. “Catch me up.” 

Prentiss clicked the remote, and the TV lit up with a picture of a woman smirking facing the camera while holding a gun up to another one next to her. “Early this morning, Garcia got an email from an anonymous server.”

The second woman was tied up, mouth slightly open, and eyes filled with tears, while a man on the other side just had his eyes closed, tired. . 

Spencer just stared at the photo. 

Rossi nodded at the picture. “She's not obscuring her face, telling us she's got nothing to hide.”

He never pulled focus away from the screen, mouth dry at the thought of what today was going to be. “Any ideas on the unsub?”

“No.” Prentiss sighed. “Only the unsub's demand. That we release Catherine Adams in 24 hours.  I'm having her transferred here for questioning, but we have no illusions. This is just a game to her. We know that. The question is, do we want to play it or not?”

______________________________________________________________

Receiving a call from the FBI was not entirely new to you, since you had been engaged to one of their agents, but receiving one now? Weird. Off brand. Something was deeply wrong from them to have to give you a call. 

You hesitantly pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey Y/n, it’s Emily Prentiss—“

“I know who you are, Emily. It’s been a couple years, not millions.” 

Emily hummed a brief laugh, and you could hear other voices behind her, unable to make out anything. 

“I know this is hard to ask of you, but would you stay on the phone with me and come in?” 

“What?” 

“I need you to stay very calm Y/n, but I need you to stay on the line with me, leave your apartment as soon as you can, and get to the BAU.” 

“Oh my god I totally forgot. It might take me an hour to get there with all this bullshit traffic, could we push the reservation an hour? Would they be willing to do that?” 

Your entire tone changed, having remembered what Spencer had told you all those years ago about if people were listening into your apartment, if they bugged your car—all paranoia that didn’t pay off then, might be paying off now. 

You were sure you could hear Emily sigh, and it sounded a little upset at the fact that you knew what to do–you knew how to handle a dangerous situation, which made her question everything in her life. 

Quickly you pulled on a pair of jeans and threw a sweatshirt over your pajama top and grabbed your keys off of the counter. 

You left your apartment, waved to one of your neighbors, and hopped into your car, still on the line, just trying not to panic. Maybe something went wrong, maybe Spencer wasn’t okay, maybe he had died—you refused to even acknowledge that thought and decided it was something else entirely. 

It was a very tense hour of driving, that was only about forty minutes since you knew how to drive above the speed limit. 

You realized that it was past midday, and you had taken full advantage of the weekend. So at least you had a decent amount of sleep under your belt for what felt like the beginning of an extraneous night. 

As you pulled into the parking garage, Emily Prentiss and someone you had never met before were standing there waiting for you. You placed your car in park, hopped out and walked up to them–only hanging up as soon as you were out of the car. 

Both of them had such grim looks on their faces, but at least they were trying to pretend like the situation wasn’t as bad as it appeared to your face. 

Emily engulfed you in a hug. “Missed you Y/n. It’s been too long.” 

“Well Em, next time I end an engagement with someone I’ll consider your feelings first.” You squeezed him back, dryly laughing at your own joke. At least it caused Emily to snort. 

“Y/n this is SSA Luke Alvez. Luke, this is Y/n Y/l/n.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” He gave a small smile and nodded at you.

“I wish it were under different circumstances.” You nodded back and looked over at Emily.

“Let’s head inside?” 

The three of you moved inside. 

Sure, you hadn’t been here in a while, but you knew your way around the BAU Bullpen if your life depended on it, which was ironic since that was what this feels like. 

As soon as you were safely in their round table room, Luke shut the door, and stood by it, Emily coming and sitting down next to you. 

“What do you know about Cat Adams?” 

That bitch. 

______________________________________________________________

“I would like to go on a date. With you.” 

Spencer stared at her, face stoic as ever. “A date?”

“Yes. I want to look pretty. And I want to have fun.” She looked him up and down. “And I won't even get physical, ok? Unless you want me to.”

Spencer sat down across from her. “Come here. Closer.”

Cat leaned in, a small smile on her face, absolutely intoxicated by being so close to him.

“The only date that I'll be there for is the one where they stick a needle in your vein.”

Cat scoffed. “You're just going to let her father and sister die? I don't think so.”

“I never said it was a father and daughter. You're already slipping.” He stood up from the table. “We'll find them. We always do.”

Cat leaned back and crossed her arms. “Not tonight. Tonight I win.”

His resolution had yet to change, “The score between me and you is two to zero. By tomorrow morning, it'll be a clean sweep. Enjoy eternal nothingness. It's a metaphor for your life.” 

And with that, the door slammed shut behind him.

______________________________________________________________

Both the profilers watched a series of emotions run rampant across your face, before you settled on a somewhat displeased smile. “A lot.” 

They exchanged a look, and you didn’t have the energy to pretend like you didn’t know what it was. 

“Don’t start with me you two. I know profiling. I know what you’re doing. Ask me the questions you want to ask. Don’t try and trick me into giving the answers you want.” 

Alvez bit his tongue and looked away, trying to hide a small smile that appeared on his lips. 

Emily, on the other hand, hid her smile a bit better than him, but part of being previously engaged to a profiler meant you picked up on some of their tricks too. 

She nodded and pulled a file from across the table. “I’m assuming you know the basics since she, uh, is obsessed with Spencer.”

“Glad to see he still has that going for him.” You muttered and looked into the file. 

Emily shot Luke a look when he let out a huff or air, trying his damndest not to laugh. 

“What is the last thing you know about her?” 

You recounted the days leading up to the restaurant, and then the few days after, decidedly stopping short of the engagement breaking off a week later. 

They shared another look, and you didn’t enjoy whatever it was that had moved across their faces. 

“What? What happened?” 

“Y/n..”

“No Emily, I drove from DC to here, I deserve to know what happened. without some weird sugarcoating, alright?” 

Emily then begins to explain to you the past four years of Reid’s life. Cat pretending she was pregnant with his kid in prison, kidnapping his mother, framing him for murder in Mexico, going to prison—

“Spencer went to prison and none of you thought to call me….”

“We didn’t think you’d–” 

“I’m a fucking criminal defense attorney in DC Emily. Of course I’d want to know if he was arrested, especially internationally. I know that law better than all of you. If someone I knew was kidnapped, I’d call you immediately. Faster than the cops.” 

Both of them went silent. 

“So is he out?” 

They nodded slowly, silently. 

“How long was he in there.”

Nothing. 

“I asked. How. Long.”

Luke spoke up. “Three months.” 

“Jesus christ.” You stood up and started to pace around the room, taking the time you needed to calm down. 

Why didn’t Spencer call you—well you knew why Spencer wouldn’t call you. 

“Okay so he’s out.” You said finally. “Why am I here?” 

“Cat’s execution is coming up, and we….we found out that she’s convinced someone to kidnap some….people…close to Reid, and we knew you’d be on that list for him.” 

Your eyebrows went up at people but said nothing of it. Just as you went to say something else, JJ knocked on the door, another blonde woman behind her. 

They entered and JJ gave you a small, yet genuine smile. 

You returned it, but quickly shifted your gaze onto the woman behind. 

Your whole body shifted slightly, into a place of defense, locking your emotions down. You knew all the profilers were watching it happen in real time, which is why Emily walked over and stood next to you, a hand appearing on the small of your back as a comfort.

“Would someone like to tell me what is going on here?” The blonde woman spoke up, arms crossed.

At least Spencer’s taste in partners with attitude hadn’t changed. 

______________________________________________________________

“Victimology is off.”

“How so?” Prentiss looked up at him as he walked into the room. 

“Father and daughter. She’s never done that before.” 

Lewis spoke up. “She usually kills men that remind her of her father. Children–even adult children, are off limits. Do we have an ID yet.” 

Prentiss, Rossi, Garcia, and JJ all looked over at Reid, and he just pulled a hand down his face. “It’s. It’s Issac and Noelle Y/l/n.” 

“Y/l/n…as is Y/n Y/l/n.” Tara looked up surprised at Spencer. 

Reid nodded slowly, just staring at the picture on the projector.

While Luke spoke up. “Who is Y/n Y/l/n.” 

“An old friend.” Rossi quickly interjected, before any more explanation had to be said. It was clear both Alvez and Simmons, that whoever this was, was an extremely touchy subject for Reid. 

Tara, who had only known you for a little while, looked back at the picture. 

Rossie spoke up. “What do we know about the partner who’s helping her?” 

“It’s got to be someone from her prison.” Simmons spoke up. “She hasn’t had contact with anyone else.” 

______________________________________________________________

After all of that, you found yourself back in a place you left four years ago. It looked almost the same as when you had first moved in, but there was less of it. 

Almost as if he was having trouble covering places where things used to be.

There were almost no photos on the walls, since you had taken half of them, and were in the rest. 

Calling someone you once loved a stranger feels wrong. 

Max, as you had learned her name, was just sitting on the couch in your spot . She was looking around as you and Rossi stood by the kitchen counter. 

“Cat had a cellmate named Juliette Weaver. We believe the two were working together, as a way for Cat to get something against Spencer, and as payment, Cat would get Juliette’s ex.”

You nodded. “How does this affect me?” 

“She took your father and sister.” 

Your back straightened and immediately brought out your phone, to call your sister, but Rossi just grabbed your wrist (gently) and shook his head. “If she finds out you know, then it’s all over. She’s doing this on purpose. She knows about you and Reid, but she knows that dragging you into all of this will hurt him more than anything else.” 

His voice had gone low and quiet, so that the girl on the couch couldn’t hear. 

“So why is she here?” You whispered back. 

“Because we don’t want anyone in danger.” 

You closed your eyes and nodded. “I need a cup of tea.” 

Rossi let go of your wrist, and you walked into the kitchen, mostly eyes closed from the stress of the situation. 

The apartment was silent, the others watching as you grabbed a kettle, and started to make tea. It was like second nature to you as you turned the stovetop on, grabbed a mug from the cabinet (careful to not grab one of his favorites), and grabbed some tea from the cabinet. 

It didn’t dawn on you that you were drinking your favorite type of tea until the second sip, while the entire apartment was still silent. 

The pity from Rossi's look was palpable. 

“Don’t even start.” 

He shrugged and stayed silent. 

Until his walkie went off and he looked at Max. “It’s time. Let’s go.” 

Rossi looked back at you and gave you a quick hug, squeezing you tightly. “You’ve got this kid. Remember everything we talked about.” 

You nodded and gave them both a strained smile as they left the apartment, leaving you all alone in this place you once called home, alone. 

Never once, since you left, did you think you would ever be back here. You didn’t even realize you were drinking from one of your own mugs until it was just you. The irony of it was not lost on you, and you sat down in your spot on the couch. 

Well first you sat in Spencer’s seat but it felt too weird, so you shifted back into your spot on the couch. 

______________________________________________________________

“Juliette staked out in Reid’s life. Found out he was dating someone, but then must have discovered his ex-fiancée.” Simmons sighed. “He was probably so focused on Max, he didn’t even realize that someone was digging into his history, following them around.”

Prentiss nodded as they walked and talked. “But if Juliette was able to find Max, that meant she was easily able to find Y/n and her family. It means she must have access to all of her publicly available information. “

“Well at least we found their hidden agenda.” 

“No. We found Cat’s hidden agenda. Juliette doesn’t care about Reid. There’s something we’re missing here. Do a deep dive with Garcia.” 

Simmons nodded at Prentis. “On it.” 

“I’ll go to Reid's apartment and monitor onsite. Is there a trap and trace on his landline?” 

“Garcia’s almost set up.” Simmons walked away from Prentiss, and down towards Penelope’s office. 

“Well this went from bad to worse.” Tara walked up to Emily. 

Emily sighed in agreement. 

Lewis spoke up. “Female narcissists destroy their competition.Y/n  really shouldn’t be in there.” 

Emily just nodded and the two of them headed out of the bullpen. “Walk with me.” 

Tara kept stride with her as they pushed through the doors. Rossi was just getting off the phone with someone and turned to look at the two women approaching him and JJ. 

JJ spoke up when Rossi was finished. “So, the hospital just released the dad– Issac Y/l/n. He's on his way here now.

Rossi scoffed. “Question is, why let him go at all?”

“Matt's on that.” Emily gestures in the direction of Garcia’s office. “Juliette Weaver's real agenda should tell us where she's taking Y/n’s younger sister.”

Lewis spoke next. “I still think the play here is to get Cat and Juliette to contact each other, but I have no idea how.”

Prentiss crossed her arms. “I have a plan, but first we have to talk about Y/n.” 

______________________________________________________________

Just then, you heard the click of the door, and stood up, watching as the door swung open. 

And there he was. 

This was the first time you had seen Spencer in four years. 

And here he was, kissing Catherine Adams. 

The woman you could give partial credit to for ending your relationship. 

After a moment Spencer looked up, and took several steps away from Cat. His eyes were wide and locked on yours. 

It took a lot of self-restraint to not punch the lights out of Cat, and to stand still arms crossed. 

“Y/n?” Spencer’s voice broke a little bit. 

You never would say that Spencer was unattractive. In fact, it would be a lie if you ever said it. But something about the past four years aged him like a fine wine. 

His hair was a bit longer, he had some scruff—his baby face had melted away and standing in front of you was a man who thought you knew everything about, but was now a stranger. 

You didn’t answer him, watching as he took you in, standing in his apartment, for the first time since…

“What are you doing here?” 

You looked over at Cat, who had the most devious smirk on her face. 

Remember what Prentiss had said to you. 

“You know why I’m here.” 

Cat nodded and the two of them moved into the apartment, the door closing behind them. 

Spencer just stood ten feet away from you, eyes never leaving you, and you watched him right back. 

Cat, on the other hand, was walking around, examining the apartment. You could see her take notice of the tea you had made yourself on the counter. You could see the hatred from the corner of your eyes. The two of you were starting to piss her off. 

She spoke up, after a few moments of silence. “Did it make you mad that I was kissing your Fiancé?” 

You shook your head. “No.”

Your focus had fully turned to Cat, but you swore you swore you could hear Spencer take a sharp inhale as you spoke your next words.

“Well, he's not my fiancé and I kind of have some other things on my mind.”

Cat didn’t scare you, but there was just something so off-putting about her. “Like what?” 

“Are you gonna hurt Noelle?”

Cat shrugged. “Not if I don't have to, no. Honestly, if she follows instructions, she might even learn from this whole experience.”

You scoffed. “What does that mean?”

Cat just started fiddling with the chess set on the dresser. 

“Spencer, what does she mean?” You turned to look back at him, his name feeling so good on your tongue. 

Spencer, who really hadn’t stopped looking at you and sighed. “I think…She means that Noelle isn’t learning from her, but from Juliette.” 

You sat down in your spot on the couch, arms crossed. You were on the full defense. 

Spencer noticed where you sat and had to look down to conceal any notions of a smile on his face. 

Cat watched him before turning and looking at you, some more disdain on her face than before. 

“Normally, Spencie and I, we spend our time together playing games, but tonight, I've brought you all here to make a point. You are doing so much better.” 

Spencer spoke up. “With you?”

“I'm not talking to you.” Cat snapped at him before she turned to you. “I'm talking to you. Because, girlfriend, you need to know the truth about your fiancé.” 

“He's not my finacé.” You were unsure about how many more times you could say that outloud. 

“No kidding. When’s the last time you spoke? Right…” Cat walked over to the center of the room, right in front of the couch. “Here?” 

Your head whipped around to Spencer. “You told her about that?”

Spencer was pleading with his eyes. “I had to say a lot of things tonight.”

Cat’s voice caused your head to snap back to her. “Yes, he has. He said that you never compared to me, that, um... That no matter what, he will never get me out of his mind, unlike you. Unlike that girlfriend.” 

You tried not to wince at the mention of that girl Maxine out in one of the trucks.

Spencer sat down next to you. “Everything I said—I was lying to save your family.”

Cat scoffed. “Did our kiss look like a lie?” 

“No.” you just looked down at your hands. 

“Thank you. See, now we're getting to the heart of the matter.” Cat started mocking Spencer. “You see, everyone thinks that Dr. Spencer Reid is... Is just this nice, bookish, uh, genius who, uh, always saves the day and has all the answers. And has zero mommy issues, right? But, um... I know the real him.” 

“Oh, yeah? Who's the real me, Cat?” 

“The real Spencer Reid throws women against walls. And hisses that he's going to kill them.” 

Spencer stood up, squaring off against her.  “That was a very different situation.”

“No, it wasn't.” Cat was holding the smirk back this time, making your gut wretch. 

“Spencer…What is she talking about?” You looked from the psychopath in front of you, to the man you realized you might have never really known beside you.

“You tell her. She's not gonna believe it coming from me.” She huffed. 

Reid turned and looked at you. “Two years ago, Cat had her partner kidnap my mother. Just like tonight. She got under my skin and…”

Your chest hurts. “And you threw her against a wall?” 

Cat’s smirk was breaking through whatever resolve she had. “Don't skimp on the details, Spencie. She deserves to know everything.”

Every single time she said Spencie you swore a shock went up your spine. 

Spencer looked down at his hands, and then over at you. His voice had gotten quieter. “She was pregnant at the time and I knew that when I hurt her.” 

“And?” She stood there expectantly, waiting for Spencer to finish. When he didn’t, her face suddenly became solemn. “The next day... I miscarried. The end.”

Spencer looked at her. “That's not true.” 

“It is most certainly true. Check my medical records.” 

“That doesn't mean I-I would…”

Cat held up her hand to him. “Stop. Look.”

Spencer looked over at you, just sitting on the couch, trying to process everything that was going through your head. 

After thinking about everything you had gone through, especially with Spencer. “I thought you were better than that Spence.” 

It was the first time you had used a nickname for him in years. And he was hearing it for the first time while you were stuck in a standoff between himself and Cat Adams, your sister being god knows where. 

Spencer’s voice cracked. “I'm sorry.” 

Cat squatted down in front of you, a sick smile on her lips. She was enjoying this. She truly enjoyed watching his life crumble to bits. “Notice how your Spencie is apologizing to you and not me.”

You clenched your hands. “He’s not mine…”

Spencer just looked over at you. 

Cat nodded. “That's good. Because men are all the same. Aren't they, Jolie?” 

Spencer’s eyes lit up with an emotion you rarely saw from him when you were together. “Don't call her that.”

And you couldn’t blame him. The word ran you through like a spear and you were sure if you looked behind you, the blade would be through the couch. You tried so hard to not let either of the two people near you see how much it messed with you. Luckily for you, Cat was too busy pushing Spencer’s buttons to see the way her words won against you. 

Cat hissed at him. “What, are you gonna throw me against a wall and choke me, or do you only do that to pregnant women?” 

You finally spoke up. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want you to see it.” She gestured to Spencer. “I want you to see that he is...no better than he was before, or any man after. They’re all the same.” 

“Stop.”

Cat squatted down in front of you. “I can see it on your face. What's his name?” 

You stared back at her. “It's none of your business.”

That damned smirk of hers returned. “It is exactly my business. In fact, it's my specialty. I mean, I could have Juliette and baby sister go over there if you want. They could take care of him.” 

Reid looked over at you. “Say yes. Give her what she wants.” 

“Hmm. See, he wants you to get me to make a little phone call so they can trace it.” She moved away from you both and sat down in the lounging chair across from you. “They're so good, the FBI.”

You jumped up and started pacing, a spitting image of four years ago. “What is wrong with the two of you? What is this sick, twisted thing that you have? Listen, I just want to save my sister. Will you please just tell me what I have to do to do that?” 

“Tell me his name. Tell me the story. That's it. And then if they can let Juliette exit stage right, then I promise you I will let her go.”

You looked between Cat and Spencer before walking over to the kitchen, and hanging up the phone. After staring down at the decision you had just made, you walked back over and took your phone out. “Here.  Use this. Use my phone. They can't trace it.”

She just watched you. “You'd be surprised.”

“I don't even need a call. Just... just a photo.” You held the phone out to her. “Something to prove to me that she's still alive. Please”. 

Cat just looked up at your face. “Story first.”

“Y/n. Please.” Spencer turned to you, hoping you’d look back at him. “I have been here with her before. She called the number and told the partner to kill my mom.”

“It is so tricky, isn't it? I mean, who are you gonna trust? The lying, cheating, violent psychopath... Or me?”

You looked down at the ground, refusing to look over at Spencer. “His…His name was Mike Davis. We dated for two years. I met him a month after we…we split.”

Cat’s attention on you felt as if there were a million bees stinging your body all at different intervals, pain coursing through your body. “Good. When did it end?” 

“Last year.” 

“Was he good in bed?” 

Spencer stood up. “Shut up.” 

Cat was enjoying this. She was enjoying watching you make Spencer uncomfortable. She was enjoying hurting him in every masochistic way she could. “What? You have to know where you stand.”

“He was good…” You looked back at Cat. “Good at, um, separating me from my friends and my family. Enough that the first time he punched me in the face, I didn't have anywhere to go. And my first response wasn't "get out." It wasn't "go to hell." It was "I'm sorry, Mike." That's when he knew he had me.”

There was a glint in Spencer’s eyes, and you could swear they were tears, but you couldn’t tell from rage or sorrow. 

Cat continued to probe. “How many hospital visits were there?” 

You showed her a small scar on the inside of your elbow. “None. No, he... He knew how to hurt me just enough to hide it all, I guess.”  

“But you found the strength to leave. What did you do?” 

“ I planned and I... I waited.”

Cat’s eyes lit up. “Waited for what? “

“I live here in D.C.” You looked between Spencer and Cat. “but I'm also a resident in Virginia. It takes 60 days for the permit to clear.”

Spencer’s eyes widened. “Y/n, stop talking. Stop talking right now.”

Cat shushed him. “No, don't stop. Here. Give me the phone. Look, I'm gonna enter the text. Stick the landing and I'll hit "send."

You handed her the phone and she quickly typed out a message, her thumb hovering over send. 

Fiddling with your ring finger, you started to speak again. Slowly. Concisely. “When I was ready, I picked a fight. Loud enough for the neighbors to hear. And he came at me with his fist just cocked back, so I pulled my Glock 19 out of my purse. I shot him.”

Spencer tried to interject. “It was self-defense. He was attacking you—”

“That's what I told 911 as he was struggling to breathe on his kitchen floor. That's why the police never charged me. I’m a lawyer, I know how to plead.” You closed your eyes. “But I... after I hung up, I... I shot him two more times.” 

Cat was glowing, spinning around to face Spencer. “Wow, you really have a type, don't you? Quite a dilemma, too. She just admitted to murder.” 

Spencer was in disbelief. “She'll beat it.” . 

“Probably. But whatever feelings she might have still had for you, and whatever Maxine might have seen in you—-it’s all gone.” 

The phone in your hand buzzed.

“Oh, wow. Look at that. Your sister. Alive and well. You're welcome.” 

Your face hardened up, and you stood up straighter. Walking away from the two of them, you opened the door. “I got it.” 

She took the phone from your hand and you turned back to the two of them. There was no emotion behind your eyes as you looked back at Spencer. 

Cat smirked and looked up at Spencer. “I win.” 

______________________________________________________________

The prison transport was quiet, with the two guards sitting across from Spencer and Cat. It had been silent for about twenty minutes, but then, Cat spoke up. 

“Do you know why I did this? Why I really did this?” 

Spencer looked down at his hands. “You wanted to prove I'm a monster just like you.”

“No... Silly. I just wanted to see you again. I just wanted to make sure that you would never forget about me.” She sighed. “'Cause when they do put that needle in my arm, I just want there to be even the slightest chance that... Maybe you're still thinking about me…”

Spencer stiffened as she placed her head on his shoulder. “You didn't have to terrorize 3 innocent people. You could've just written a letter.” 

“Would you have written me back?” 

When Spencer didn’t respond, Cat knew her answer. 

“Bye, Spencie. I really enjoyed our date.” She smiled at him desperately, getting dragged out of the vehicle by the guards to the prison. 

______________________________________________________________

The elevator door opened and Spencer walked out of it, his whole body reeked of defeat, and he barely looked at Emily as she spoke.  “We need to debrief.” 

Spencer just walked right past her, and into the bullpen. His expression changed when he saw you on one side talking to Tara, and Max on the other, looking up at him right as he walked in. 

“Spencer, are you okay?” 

Her voice caught your ear, and immediately you looked up to see her walk over and embrace him in a hug. 

He smiled at her, and grateful returned the hug before muttering that he would be back, and explain everything.

You were never going to get back together with Spencer, but watching it in real time was like unlacing an old wound. 

Spencer walked over to you, and you stood up as he approached. 

“Uh, Tara, would you mind giving us…”

She nodded at him and walked away. 

Both of you went to speak, trying to say something to the other. 

“I should explain all of this.” 

Spencer shook his head. “You don’t have to explain any of that Y/n—it doesn’t.” 

You cut him off. “It was fake—most of it. I didn’t kill anyone, Spence. I was just lying to her to get her to send the text from my phone. It was all…It was made up.” 

He just nodded, staring at you really. 

You gave him a soft smile, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. Both of you could feel the pulse between it, making you remove your hand and take a small step back. 

“Thank you for saving my sister and father.” 

Spencer watched your resolve fully formed, masking whatever you were feeling. He hated watching it happen to him, watching as you placed whatever feelings you had back into somewhere he couldn’t find. 

Garcia walked over and placed a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “I just need you both to know, Cat Adams had a miscarriage, but it was months after whatever encounter you had. It’s not your fault. We looked at her records.” She was speaking low for you both, yet both of you let out a quiet sigh of relief. 

“They filled me in on everything that happened between both of you in the past couple years, and they asked me if I would be willing to…help them beat her.” 

Spencer looked up at you, and unlike yourself, every single emotion Spencer was feeling was racing across his face. 

He didn’t like that you knew about everything that had gone down. He was so happy you were okay. He was a little impressed by the way you beat Cat at her own game. He was upset that you put yourself in danger. 

“They gave me an ear piece and everything.” 

Spencer shook his head. “You’re not trained—that’s extremely dangerous of you.” 

You sighed and nodded. “Unfortunately Spencer, this is…this was the life I was used to when we were together. I knew the stakes. I mean the briefings I had with Hotch after you relapsed…” 

Spencer just clammed up and stood a bit straighter. “ I never knew..”

“It was like that on purpose. I didn’t want you to think that you were a burden or too much or—I was doing it for the potential of…” You cut yourself of, flinching at the parallels between this and your previous final conversation. 

You looked over at Garcia. “I need my bag Pen.” You whispered, taking a step away from Spencer. “I shouldn’t…I finished my job. My family is safe…” 

She had a rueful look on her face, but she nodded and took your arm, walking you back over to the desk where your stuff was. 

He looked up at Emily and walked over to her. “I’m…uh. I’m gonna go walk her out and then I’ll be right back.” 

Emily gave him the saddest smile, and just nodded. She knew that nothing she could say could make it any better. 

You grabbed your coat, and your bag, and the two of you walked to the elevator in silence, riding it all the way down to the parking garage, where your car was still there from this afternoon, all of those hours ago. 

You looked over at Spencer, tears in your eyes, having not said anything to him. 

As soon as he met your eyes, you dropped your bag, and Spencer wrapped his arms around you tightly, just holding you and resting his head on yours; trying to give you the comfort that he was rarely able to give you. 

Sobbing into his arms, you just tightly wrapped your arms around his torso and just held onto him tightly. Trying to decompress, trying to truly understand everything that had happened in the past twelve hours. 

It was Spencer who spoke first. 

“I’m so so sorry Y/n.” He whispered. “I never meant any of this to happen to you, and for you to get dragged back here and—” 

You shook your head slightly, but didn’t move from where you were. Neither of you did. 

“It’s what she wanted, Spence, and unfortunately for us, this was always bound to happen.” You whispered. 

The hug felt so good, but something about it was just so different. 

It’s not the way it used to be. 

“I need to go Spencer.” 

He nodded, and this time you moved away from him. His hand came up and wiped away one of the remaining tears on your cheek. 

You closed your eyes, and took a deep breath. 

“Oh fuck, why is this so fucking hard four years later.” You laughed, trying to regain any sort of composure. 

“Y/n…”

You took another step away from him and shook your head. 

“We can’t—I’m not.” You tried so hard to find the right words without bursting into tears again. “Spencer. I cannot put myself back to where I was four years ago. I can’t do it. And yes things have changed, but maybe that is for the better. Maybe you were always meant to be my maybe, and not my always.” 

You took another breath, but kept going. “You are amazing, and funny, and so smart Spence. But this…we ran our course. It didn’t work then, and I don’t know if I have it in me to try again just for it to fail.” 

“Y/n please.” 

“I will always love you but this…It’s time to…It’s time to stop. I have to go back to my life, and you go back upstairs to yours, with Prentiss and Rossi and Penelope and…Max.” 

Both of you winced as you said her name, but you took a step forward, moving to kiss him on the cheek. 

Spencer gently grabbed you face, giving you enough time to back out. 

You didn’t. 

His lips locked with yours, his thumb rubbing against your cheek as the two of you shared one more moment, just for the two of you. 

But it had to end. 

You couldn’t go back to the anxiety, the arguing, the petty disagreements. It wasn’t good for you. It was good for either of you. 

Stepping away again, you gently kissed his cheek, and started to slowly walk to your car. 

Right as you got to your car, you turned around and made eye contact with him one last time before the elevator doors closed, both of you with the most gut wrenching smile slightly plastered across your faces. 

You mouthed goodbye, unable to speak it out loud, and he nodded, tears filling his eyes as he whispered it back to you. 

The doors shut. 

You were all alone in this hollow parking garage. 

Your heart was aching, burning. 

But there was a sigh of relief, that came with the doors closing, and saying goodbye for the last, last time. 

[foreverisntenough]

‘Act II’

Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

Chapter 10 - A Little Lost | ‘Act II’

word count - 10k

Since the day you left Madrid, Jude had been carrying a small notebook with him everywhere he went. At first, it was just a place to spill his thoughts, a space to process the whirlwind of emotions he didn’t know how to navigate. But as soon as he wrote the first sentence, he realized that every thought, every feeling, was meant for you. The notebook became his way of speaking to you when he couldn’t, of telling you everything he had kept inside for far too long. It started with small things—mundane moments that he would’ve shared with you if you were still in his life. He wrote about away games, detailing flights that were rough with turbulence, knowing you would’ve hated them. You’d always been nervous during flights, especially when the plane shook, and he could so vividly imagine holding your hand, comforting you in that quiet, intimate way only he knew how. He wrote about a brand event he had to attend, the kind you would’ve loved. He pictured you in a stunning dress, his hand instinctively resting on the small of your back as all the people in the room transfixed on your smile and envied him. He missed the way your presence made even the dullest of events shine. But as time passed, the pages of the notebook filled with more than just small anecdotes. They became love letters—confessions he hadn’t been brave enough to say out loud. He wrote about his dreams, both the silly ones and the ones that left him aching. He told you about the night he dreamed of you in his arms, just like before, and how waking up without you felt like losing you all over again. He confessed to arguments with his teammates, like the one he had with Toby, and how in the heat of it all, he had just wanted to call you and vent, knowing you’d calm him down. He wrote about his mum, how she missed you. How she’d bring you up every now and then, asking if you were doing okay, her voice full of concern. His heart would clench every time because he didn’t know. He didn’t know if you were okay, and that uncertainty gnawed at him more than he cared to admit. But most of all, the notebook became a testament to how much he loved you. Page after page, he poured his heart out in ways he never had the courage to do while you were still together. He wrote about how he should have told you how much you meant to him when he had the chance. How he regretted every fight, every misstep, every moment he let you slip away. He described the exact moment he realized he was in love with you—how it hit him like a freight train, and how terrified he was of it. And yet, despite his fear, the feeling never left. If anything, it grew stronger with every passing day, every page he filled. There were entries where he simply wrote your name over and over, as if seeing it on the page made you feel closer to him. Others were longer, detailing his apologies—how sorry he was for everything. For not being brave enough, for letting his insecurities come between you, for pushing you away when all he wanted was to pull you closer. And then, there were the moments when his love for you spilled out uncontrollably, when he wrote about how much he still needed you. How he missed your laughter, your voice, the way your presence made everything feel right. He missed the feeling of your hand in his, the sound of your breathing when you slept next to him, the way you’d nudge him playfully when he teased you. Every small detail that made up your relationship was etched into those pages—his heart laid bare, vulnerable, and raw. Jude carried the notebook like a lifeline, as if each word he wrote to you was a tether, keeping him connected to you in some way. Even though he wasn’t sure if you’d ever read them, he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop writing to you, telling you all the things he should have said while you were still his. There was one night, after a particularly bad game, where he sat alone in his hotel room, staring at the notebook. His hands trembled as he picked up the pen, the words spilling out faster than he could think. ‘I love you,’ he wrote, the words stark on the page. 

'I love you more than I know how to explain. And I’m terrified I’ll never get the chance to tell you that now. In my dreams you’re touching my face and asking me if I want to try again.'

It was the truest thing he’d ever written in that book. As the days passed, the notebook filled with his deepest fears, his sincerest apologies, and his undying love. And every time he flipped through the pages, he could feel you there, even though you were so far away. Even though you hadn’t spoken in what felt like forever. It was the only way he knew how to keep you close, even as the distance between you grew wider with every passing day. He just hoped, somehow, some way, that you’d feel it too. That maybe, one day, he could find the courage to give you the notebook, to let you see how much you had always meant to him. But for now, it was his silent confession, his love letter to the one person he couldn’t forget. There were nights when Jude found himself staring at the ceiling, the quiet of his room almost suffocating. He had the notebook nearby, as always, full of the thoughts he wished he could share with you, the words he never got to say. But tonight, it wasn't enough to just write. He missed you physically, emotionally, in every way imaginable. And though he had been longing for the closeness that came with sex, it wasn't just about that. It was the intimacy, the connection, the way your body pressed against his felt like home. The way, in those quiet moments, it was more than just physical-it was how you anchored him, how you made him feel understood and whole. Tonight, though, one memory in particular replayed over and over in his mind.

It was just after your holiday in Greece, the first time you came with him to Madrid. Everything had been easy then, carefree. Nothing had happened yet-none of the arguments, none of the jealousy, none of the heartbreak. In retrospect, Jude realized he should've known even then how special you were to him, but at the time, it had all seemed so light, so effortless. He remembered the day like it was yesterday. The sun had been scorching, golden light spilling over the back garden as you lounged by the pool, the scent of suncream and chlorine in the air. You were glowing in that tiny bikini, the one that had him doing double takes every time you moved. But it wasn't just the way you looked-though you were undeniably stunning-it was the way your laughter filled the space between you. The way it made his heart skip a beat every time you smiled, the kind of smile that reached your eyes and lit up your entire face. You'd been teasing him, like you always did, a playful gleam in your eyes as you suddenly jumped up and ran, your laughter trailing behind you. Jude remembered watching you, a mixture of joy and something deeper-something he couldn't quite put into words yet-bubbling up inside him as he chased after you. The way your skin shimmered in the sunlight, turning a different kind of gold, made his breath catch. He remembered how his hands finally caught your waist, pulling you close, your laughter turning into something softer as you pressed your lips to his neck. It was in that moment, as he held you close by the pool, your bodies slick with water and heat, that Jude had felt something shift inside him. He hadn't known what it was then-maybe he had been too afraid to name it—but he could feel it now. The way your lips on his skin felt like a fire he would gladly burn for. A fire he would willingly let consume him, over and over again. He hadn't realized it then, but it was already happening.

As he lay in bed, Jude dropped his head back into the pillow, the weight of that memory making his chest ache. He wished he could go back to that very moment-to feel the simplicity of it again, to hear your giggle echoing in his back garden as you tried to escape him, only for him to catch you and pull you back into his arms. He wanted to be back there, in the sunshine with you, before everything became so complicated. Before he messed it all up. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, frustrated at the fact that you were so far away. He missed you more than he knew how to express, and on nights like these, he felt that loss in the deepest parts of himself. It wasn't just the physical distance-it was the emotional chasm that had grown between you, a gap he didn't know how to bridge. As the memory faded, Jude reached for the notebook again, flipping to a blank page. He began to write, the pen moving across the paper as he tried to capture that feeling, that moment with you, in words. Maybe one day he'd find a way to share it with you. Maybe one day, you'd know how much that memory meant to him, how much you meant to him. But for now, it was just another secret confession, scrawled in ink, tucked away in the pages of a notebook that was quickly becoming a record of everything he was too late to say. He closed his eyes, the image of you in that bikini, laughing as you ran from him, still fresh in his mind. The ache in his chest lingered, wishing for just one more chance to hold you, to feel your warmth, to make you laugh again. He laid there for a moment and as much his heart was aching… something else began to ache. Jude couldn’t get the image of you in that bikini out of his mind. He couldn’t get the images of him taking it off you out of his mind. 

As the scorching Spanish sun beat down on the pool in the back garden, laughter and desire intertwined.  You found yourself in a playful mood, donning a skimpy bikini that showcased your gorgeous figure—a sight that immediately captured Jude's attention. He stood tall by the pool, his athletic build glistening with a light sheen of sweat. His tanned skin, a golden hue, contrasted beautifully with his deep brown eyes, which at the moment were fixed on you with unapologetic desire. With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you teased him, running around the pool deck, your laughter echoing across the garden. The game of cat and mouse began, and Jude, eager to catch his prey, gives chase. You giggled as you darted between the sun loungers, feeling the warmth of the stone beneath your bare feet. His footsteps closed in on you, and just as he reached out to grab you, you let out a playful squeal. Jude's strong arms wrapped around your waist, and you found yourself enveloped in his embrace. He pulled you close, your bodies pressing together, the heat between you intensifying. You wiggled playfully, feeling the hardness of his muscular body against your soft curves. His hands roamed freely, exploring your back, sending shivers down your spine.

"Gotcha, angel!" Jude whispered into your ear, his hot breath sending a delightful tingle down your neck. You squirmed in his grasp, a perfect mix of anticipation and excitement coursing through your veins. He tightened his hold, lifting you effortlessly off the ground and carrying you towards one of the plush pool loungers nearby. Gently, he laid you down, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of his gaze sent a jolt of arousal through your body. You reached up, running your hands over his hair, gripping it, pulling him closer for a kiss. His lips claimed yours passionately, and you responded eagerly, your tongues dancing in a sensual rhythm. As the kiss deepened, Jude's hands wandered, He untangled the ties of your bikini top with skilled fingers. He pulled away slightly, his eyes sparkling with lust, and then slowly he moved his lips down your body, using his teeth to untie the knot, sending a thrill through you. Your tits spilled into his waiting hands. He worshiped them with his touch, squeezing and caressing your sensitive nipples. Moans of pleasure escaped your lips as his skilled fingers worked magic, driving you to the brink of ecstasy. He lent down, replacing his fingers with his warm mouth, suckling your nipples and leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach. Your hands grasped his shoulders, urging him closer, craving the feeling of his skin against yours. Jude's hands traveled lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your bikini bottoms. He hooked his fingers and slid them down your legs, leaving you completely exposed to his hungry gaze and the Madrid air. The cool breeze brushing against your heated skin, causing goosebumps to rise. His name fell from your lips in a hoarse moan the moment you felt his fingers running through your wet folds. With his fingers between your legs now, you were practically dripping for him. You looked at him with your jaw slacked and lidded eyes. He unraveled you with each movement.  His fingers making quick work sinking knuckles deep inside you. His fingers hit the perfect spot inside you with every thrust and curl of their tips. Your back arching uncontrollably. A puddle on the surface of the chair you were laying on formed, your juices running down his hand. The way his breath felt against your sin as he kissed it and the force of his fingers, it all had you rushing towards your orgasm. You whimpered with gasps of air. Your pussy was absolutely soaked but you couldn’t think, your mind had gone blank.  

“Let go, baby. Be a good girl f’me. Cum f’me.” Jude said sternly instructing you and you wasted no time at all. Your orgasm was never ending. He persistently kept his fingers at work inside of you, slowing slightly but drawing your high out.  “Good girl. So fucking good f’me.” Jude cooed as you attempted to hold onto his muscular arm to prevent him from moving any more. He gave way and removed his fingers as he kissed your lips with his before he drew away and forcefully pushed his thumb in between your lips. You willingly opened them for him and looked at him doe eyed and desperate for more. He kept your lips agape as he slowly spit into your mouth before hungrily kissing you again. Jude wrapped your legs around his waist. He positioned himself between your thighs, his hard length pressing against your soft core. You arched your back again desperate, inviting him to take what felt rightfully his. With one swift motion, he entered you, filling you with a delicious fullness. The sensations were overwhelming as Jude began to move, his hips thrusting in a steady rhythm. His eyes never leaving yours, and you could see the raw desire reflected in their depths. He sets a relentless pace, his body pounding into yours, each stroke eliciting moans of pleasure from both of you.

"Oh fuck, Jude," you cried out, your voice hoarse with passion. "Yes, right there!" The pupils in his dark eyes dilated when he felt his cock pulse inside you. Every movement was slow, deep, and intentional. His lips curled into a smug smile hearing that he was doing a good job. You dragged your ankle down his back muscles. He was finding out quickly exactly how to touch you, how to drive you wild. His hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements, ensuring every thrust hits your sweet spot. The sounds of your pleasure fill the outdoor air—moans, gasps, and the wet, rhythmic slapping of skin on skin. As the tension builds, you can feel another orgasm approaching, a tidal wave of sensation ready to crash over you. Jude could sense your impending release and quickened his pace, his own breath becoming ragged.

"Cum for me, baby," he urged, his voice thick with lust. You moaned pulling him down to you more by the back of his neck dragging your nails harshly down his muscular back. He rested his forehead against yours sweetly as he continued to rail into you.  “Cum one more time f’me baby. Feels so good. Doing so well f’me.” He whispered between the lewd sounds of your squelching pussy. His thrusts sped up, rolling his hips into you as he chased his own orgasm. Your body tightened around him, and you cried out his name as the waves of pleasure washed over you once more. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you rode out the pulsating orgasm, your body trembling with its intensity. He thrusted harder, faster, his eyes rolling back as he surrendered to the bliss. He sunk his teeth into his perfect lower lip. You silently begged him to cum. His head tilted back. With a final powerful stroke, he emptied himself deep within you. Ropes of his cum filled the velvety inside of your pussy. He pumped you full gradually and slowly stilling. Your pussy continued to flutter as you panted beneath him. Your chest rising and falling. He softly stroked your hair and gently kissed you. “Did so good f’me.” He breathed, his voice filled with admiration. You smiled breathlessly as he kissed you again in a way that Jude prayed you could feel just how much he adored you with each one. In the aftermath of your passion by the pool, Jude collapsed onto the small space on the lounger, moving you to be on top of him now, both of you sweaty and satiated, keeping your bodies intertwined. You smiled, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

As you stood, fingers grazing over the delicate fabric on the rack inside the department store, you let out a heavy sigh. The weight in your chest felt unbearable, and the artificial high of retail therapy wasn’t doing what it was supposed to. You thought the expensive price tags and shiny new outfits would mask the ache, but instead, it all felt hollow.Winnie came up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist in a gentle hug. She giggled softly, trying to lift your spirits. 

"At least you'll have an amazing top to wear when you're ready to get back out there," she teased lightly. But the words, meant to comfort, only made you feel worse. Your eyes welled with tears, and you sniffled, turning away from the clothes.

"I don’t want to get back out there, Win," you whispered, voice trembling. "I don’t want to show off for anyone else. I don’t want any other eyes on me… it’s not the same." You felt a tear slip down your cheek, quickly brushing it away before it could fall. Winnie turned you gently, her face softening in concern.

“Hey, it’s okay to feel that. You’re hurting, and no amount of shopping is gonna fix that.” You sighed, blinking back more tears, your throat tight. 

"I just… I only want to look good for him. Jude. He’s the only one who made me feel alive, you know? I used to get dressed up and know he’d look at me like I was the only person in the room. Now… I don’t feel like that anymore. I feel dull, like nothing will ever be the same without him."  Your hand fell from the hanger, the top you were about to buy suddenly meaningless. Shopping couldn’t fill the void Jude left behind, no matter how many racks you combed through. Winnie squeezed you tighter, trying to ground you as your words hung heavy between you. She rested her chin on your shoulder, feeling your pain as if it were her own.

 “I know, babe,” she whispered, trying to soothe you. “It’s okay to feel this way, you know. You don’t have to be ready to move on. It’s okay if all you want is him.” You shook your head, blinking back more tears as you stared blankly at the clothes in front of you, the vibrant fabrics and trendy designs suddenly feeling meaningless.

 “I feel so stupid,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I should be mad, right? I should be out there, showing him what he’s missing, living my best life. But I can’t. I just… I can’t.” Winnie turned you around in her arms, forcing you to look at her.

“You’re definitely not stupid. You’re in love. That’s not something you just get over in a snap. And you’re allowed to feel how you feel, even if it’s messy or complicated.” You sniffled, biting your lip as your eyes darted to the ground.

“But it’s more than that, Win. I wish I wanted to go out, find someone else, let some random guy sweep me off my feet, make Jude jealous. Hell, I wish I wanted to go fuck someone else but I don’t. I really don’t. The thought of someone else… It makes me sick. The idea of anyone touching me the way Jude did… it’s not even a comparison.”  Your voice cracked as the weight of your feelings pressed harder on your chest. “I tried that. I just want him,” you admitted, your heart breaking with every word. “I want to be in his bed, wearing his t-shirts, listening to him laugh at something stupid I said. I don’t want to go out and meet anyone new. I don’t want to pretend like I’m okay. I just want… him.”  Winnie sighed, her face soft with sympathy as she watched the tears finally fall. 

“I get it. I do. And I wish I could say something to make it all better, but I can’t. Only time will help… or maybe Jude will come to his senses and fix this… would you want him to?” She paused, her eyes searching yours, as if she was trying to find some glimmer of hope within you. You pouted at her, giving her the obvious answer that of course you did.  “Well, until then, you’ve got me. And we’ll get through this together, okay?” You nodded weakly, but the ache in your chest didn’t lessen. You pulled away from Winnie slightly, looking around the store, your heart heavy. 

“I just don’t get it, you know? I used to love coming to Bergdorfs. I used to get so excited to find something new, to go out and show it off. But now… now it feels like none of it matters.” You ran your fingers over a top you had been eyeing earlier, the fabric soft beneath your fingertips, but it didn’t bring you the same joy it once would have. “I don’t even want this,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Winnie. “I know I sound dramatic but none of it means anything without him. What’s the point of getting dressed up or going out if he’s not there to see it? If he’s not the one taking it off at the end of the night?” Winnie’s arms wrapped around you again, tighter this time, as if she could shield you from the pain with her embrace. 

“You don’t have to do it for anyone else,” she murmured. “If you don’t want to go out, don’t. If you don’t want to move on right now, don’t force it. It’s okay to miss him, and it’s okay to still want him. But you have to take care of yourself, too. Even if it’s hard.” You sighed heavily, the exhaustion of everything catching up with you.

“I’m trying,” you said softly. “But it’s like… suddenly, New York isn’t home anymore. Nothing feels like home without him. The city feels empty, cold. And I’ve never felt so far away from him… from myself.”  Your voice cracked again, and Winnie’s hand found yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You’re not far from yourself,” she said gently. “You’re just hurting. And that’s okay. You’re allowed to grieve this, to feel lost. But you’ll find your way back. Whether that’s with Jude or without him, I know you will.” Her words brought a small comfort, but the ache in your chest remained.

“It just doesn’t feel like home without him,” you repeated, more to yourself. “He is my home, and now I don’t even know where I am anymore.” Winnie pulled you in tighter, her heart breaking for you.

 “I know, babe. But we’ll figure it out. Whether that means getting back to him or finding your own way again. I’m here, and we’ll figure it out.” For a moment, you just stood there, holding onto her, the weight of your heartbreak pressing down on you. You wanted to believe her, that you’d find your way back to yourself, but right now, all you could think about was how much you missed Jude. How much you still loved him, even after everything. You sighed again, pulling away from Winnie and running a hand through your hair.

 “I don’t want to meet anyone else, Win. I don’t want to move on. I just want him.” Winnie nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. 

“I know. And that’s okay. You don’t have to move on. But maybe… maybe you should tell him that.” She sympathetically smiled at you. 

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, the black sheer lace dress you had bought on a whim clinging to your body like a whisper. You could see your underwear beneath the fabric, and you almost laughed at how absurd this all felt. Yet, you couldn’t help but indulge in the fantasy for a moment, wondering what it would be like if you did go to Aurelian’s party. The new clothes from your shopping spree with Winnie sat scattered around you in your wardrobe, a reminder of how hard you were trying to distract yourself. An hour and half a bottle of Dom Pérignon later, you were sitting on the floor of your wardrobe, staring at your phone, your fingers hovering over the screen. The bubbly had loosened something in you, making you braver—or more reckless, depending on how you looked at it. Without thinking too much about it, you picked up your phone and shot off a flirty text to Aurelian, switching to French. 

‘Qu'est-ce que je suis censée porter à ta fête si je viens? Quoi qu'il en soit, je me sens déjà un peu sous-dressée…’ [What am I supposed to wear to your party if I come? Though, I already feel a little underdressed]

You pressed send before you could stop yourself. Your heart raced as you waited for a reply, feeling a strange mix of excitement and guilt swirl in your chest. When Aurelian’s response finally came through, you bit your lip as you read it, his words making your cheeks warm. 

‘Je ne t'ai jamais vue sans être magnifique. Je suis presque sûr que ce n'est pas les vêtements qui comptent…’ [I’ve never seen you look anything but magnificent. I’m pretty sure it’s not the clothes that matter.]

His implication was clear, and it sent a shiver down your spine. You found yourself smiling at his smooth compliment, your heart beating a little faster. You could feel the tension in the air between you, even through a phone screen, and for a moment, you wondered if you should let yourself lean into it.  Aurelian's next message popped up with an innocently enough question. 

 ‘Alors, à quoi pensais-tu?’ [So, what were you thinking?]

You stared at the text, the decision looming large before you. You could send him a photo right now—show him the drunken, seductive mess you were in this dress, the dress you probably wouldn’t have worn for anyone but Jude in the past. A part of you wanted to flirt, to let Aurelian see you this way, to forget for just a moment how much you missed Jude. 

But as you sat there, the phone still in your hand, you sighed. You couldn't shake the ache inside you, the ache that had nothing to do with Aurelian. It was Jude who filled your thoughts, Jude who made your heart race when you sent those types of flirty, suggestive photos. Jude who you were still in love with, even if it hurt like hell.You let your phone drop beside you, not replying to Aurelian’s message. The thought of sending that picture, or even entertaining the idea of someone else, just didn’t feel right. It didn’t fill the void you were hoping it would. It only reminded you of what you were missing—what you still wanted, even though you had tried to convince yourself otherwise. With a heavy sigh, you rested your head against the a cabinet drawer, the sheer dress now feeling more like a reminder of the distance between where you were and where you wanted to be. You weren’t ready to move on. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

You were sitting on your couch, half-watching the cityscape outside your window mindlessly when your phone rang. It was your mum. You answered with a smile, but the moment she mentioned your dad had watched the Madrid match, your stomach twisted in knots. 

"He was so excited, you know? Your dad, watching the game. And then... well, I’ve been feeling like I’m keeping something from him," she said softly but you could almost hear her smile through the phone. "I mean, about you and Jude." You froze, your throat tightening. 

"Mum, we’re not... we’re not seeing each other anymore." You sheepishly admitted hating each word as it came out of your mouth.  

"What do you mean? I thought—" There was a pause on the other end of the line, the confusion hanging in the air like a weight. 

"It’s over," you said quickly, the words feeling foreign, like they didn’t belong to you. "I ended it." With every follow-up question she asked, you felt your resolve crumbling, the walls you had built up to protect yourself beginning to crack. And then, as you tried to explain, your voice broke, a sob you hadn’t expected rising in your chest. Tears slipped from your eyes, and it was like you couldn’t stop them once they started. You never cried, not like this, not with your mum. The moment she heard the hitch in your voice, her tone shifted. She dropped into the familiar comfort of French, her voice soft and maternal. 

"Ma chérie, oh non, mon bébé, ne pleure pas. C’est bon, je suis là. Papa et moi, nous sommes là pour toi. Viens nous voir, viens à Paris.” [My darling, oh no, my baby, don’t cry. It’s okay, I’m here. Dad and I, we're here for you. Come see us, come to Paris.] Her words wrapped around you like a blanket, but instead of comforting you, they made the ache worse. You cried harder, the sobs tearing out of you, unexpected and overwhelming. There was something about her offer, the thought of going back to Paris with a broken heart, that made the hurt feel even sharper. Paris had always been your sanctuary, your favorite place on earth. You didn’t want to taint it with the sadness that now clung to you like a second skin. The idea of walking those familiar streets, eating at your favorite cafés, all while carrying the weight of your broken heart—it was unbearable.

"I... I don’t think I can, Mum," you choked out between sobs. "I don’t want to go to Paris like this. I really don’t want to ruin it." You muttered.

"Rien ne peut ruiner Paris pour toi, ma chérie.” [Nothing can ruin Paris for you, my darling.] She soothed, her voice soft and steady. "Paris misses you almost as much as we do." But you shook your head, even though she couldn’t see it.

"I feel so lost. I know I haven’t known him for that long but I don’t even know who I am without him anymore. And if I go to Paris like this, I’m scared it’ll never be the same again.” 

“Tu es forte, mon amour. Plus forte que tu ne le penses. Et peu importe ce que tu ressens maintenant, tu retrouveras ton chemin. Come to Paris. We’ll help you heal.” [You are strong, my love. Stronger than you think. And no matter how you feel now, you will find your way back. Come to Paris. We’ll help you heal.] Her words were like balm on a wound, but it didn’t stop the fear from gnawing at you. You hadn’t realized how deep this heartbreak had cut, how much it had seeped into every part of your life. Even the thought of Paris, a place you’d always associated with joy and love, felt tainted now. 

"I just... I don’t know how to do this, Mum. I don’t know how to move on." You wrapped your arms around yourself, the tears slowing but your chest still heavy. Telling your mum you were hurting made you feel like a little girl. 

"Tu n’as pas à savoir maintenant. C’est pour ça qu’on est là. Come to Paris, ma chérie. Papa et moi, on s’occupera de toi." [You don’t have to know right now. That’s why we’re here. Come to Paris, my darling. Dad and I will take care of you.] You cried quietly as she continued to console you, her words soft and loving, trying to bring you comfort in a moment where comfort felt impossible. You knew she was right, that eventually, you’d have to find your way back to yourself. But right now, in the middle of the heartache, it felt like you were drifting, lost and untethered.

After what felt like your and Jude’s denouement you were struggling with the overwhelming weight of your emotions crush your resolve. You couldn’t do this alone—not anymore. The only person you could think or want to call was Whitney. Whitney, who had always been there for you, who understood the unique challenges of loving an English footballer, a man with a similar life as Jude. With trembling hands, you dialed her number.

“Helllooo” Whitney sang. “What’s up?” When Whitney picked up, her voice was warm and familiar, instantly calming some of your anxiety. But you couldn’t hold back the sob that escaped you. 

“Whit… can I come stay with you? Please? Whit…” You whimpered as you began to bawl.

“Of course, you can. What’s wrong? Are you okay?” The concern in Whitney’s voice was immediate. You tried to gather herself, but the tears kept coming. 

“I just… I can’t be here. I need to get away. I need to be somewhere safe. I can’t be alone like this.” You wept as your whole body shook of fear and heartbreak.

“Don’t worry about anything,” Whitney assured you. “Just get on the next flight over here. Come be with me. Trent and I are here for you always.” Whitney sympathetically told you. 

By the time you arrived at Trent and Whitney’s house, you were exhausted—emotionally, physically, completely drained. You stood at the doorstep, your heart heavy as you padded in the lock code Whitney gave you. As you opened the door, the alarm bell rang through their massive home that was filled to the brim with love and warmth that made you want to cry upon entry. The other thing that made you want to cry was their sweet little two year old girl, Teddy running towards you. Her bare feet pitter pattering on the flooring.

“Y/N!” Teddy exclaimed, her tiny face lighting up with pure joy. “Miss! Missed!” She giggled as the dimples in her cheeks sank.  You felt your heart swell at the sight of this little girl you loved so much. You dropped to your knees and scooped Teddy up into a tight hug, letting the warmth of the embrace soothe you for a moment. But then, the tears came again, unbidden and unstoppable. Trent appeared at the door next, concern etched on his face. He watched as you clung to his daughter, tears streaming down your cheeks. Without a word, he walked over and gently lifted Teddy from your arms. He kissed your temple softly, offering silent comfort.

“It’s okay,” Trent murmured, holding Teddy close as she babbled nonsense about missing you happily in his arms. “Whatever’s going on. You’re gonna be alright.” He cooed. 

“Come on, let’s get you inside,” Whitney said softly, leading you into the cozy living room after she appeared at your side, her arm wrapping around your shoulders. You settled on the couch, and Whitney handed you a glass of wine. “Talk to me,” Whitney urged gently. “Tell me what’s going on.” You took a shaky breath, staring into the wine glass as if it held all the answers. You knew you needed to talk, to let it all out—but the words felt stuck in your throat. Whitney waited patiently, her presence a steady, calming force. 

“I messed everything up, Whit. I tried to protect myself, and I ended up pushing him away. I don’t know what to do.” You whimpered. Finally, you looked up, your voice trembling. Whitney reached out, placing a comforting hand on your knee. 

“I hardly think you messed everything up. He cares so much about you. I’m here to listen so let’s start from the beginning,” she said softly. “I’m here for you, Y/N. Whatever it is, whatever is best for you, we’ll figure it out together.” As the night went on, you poured out your heart, the tears falling freely as you recounted everything that had happened with Jude. All the things Whitney already knew, all the things Whitney didn’t. All of it, dirty and otherwise. She listened, offering support and understanding in a way only she could. The wine helped to dull the edges of your pain, but it was the kindness and warmth of Whitney and her little family that truly began to soothe the deep ache inside you. After a long, emotional conversation, Whitney noticed your exhaustion weighing heavily on you. But she also knew that you needed more than just one person to lean on right now. With a reassuring smile, Whitney pulled out her phone.

“I think it’s time to bring in another opinion. It’s only right,” Whitney said, giving you a wink as she tapped on her screen. Moments later, the familiar face of Winnie appeared on the screen. Winnie’s bright smile greeting you with her usual energy. 

“Wow, thanks for the invite! I didn’t know you were going over Y/N.” Winnie teased seeing you and Lauren on the same couch but then she paused, taken aback by the expressions on your faces. “What’s going on? Look like you’ve had a good cry.” She asked a bit cautiously.  You managed a small smile as Whitney explained the progression of your situation. Winnie listened intently, her face softening with empathy as the story unfolded. She was rambunctious and fun, but she also had a deep well of understanding that made her the perfect person to talk to when things got heavy. After that night at the club, Winnie had been there for you. Both of these girls always were.

“So let me just recap here.,” Winnie said, leaning closer to the camera as if she could step through the screen to be with you. “You and Jude are head over heels for each other, but you’re both too scared to admit it, so you’re pushing each other away, sleeping with other people and then just not talking about it?” Winnie summarized the situation a bit too bluntly. 

“Win… they’re in love with each other.”  Whitney rebuffed. “Sure, Jude’s been fucking stupid but Y/N now has created distance… rightfully so by the way.” Whitney turned to you, squeezing your leg. “Problem is, now, there’s a chasm they don’t know what to do with. Y/N is trying to weigh what to do.” Whitney sadly smiled. 

“What’s gonna hurt less.” Winnie responded. “But…” Winnie piped up again. “I mean… a little pain isn’t the worst thing in the world. It’s horrible but on the other side of it... I think maybe an in person conversation, if you can manage it might be good.”

“I agree. And then if the direction turns you get to decide. You get to call it. You clearly love each other and saying it over the phone just isn’t right. Not when it’s real love.” Whitney ever the romantic cooed. You blushed at the ideas, nodding hesitantly, trying to keep your composure. 

“I really love him… I think.” You pouted at them. Feeling not much better about Jude specifically but much better talking with them. “I’m such a fucking sap now. Whitney, you did this to me.” You whined falling into her lap dramatically. Both girls giggled as you dragged yourself to sit back up.  

“Love is amazing!” Whitney sang kissing your forehead. She had no quam introducing you and Jude. She thought love was great. You usually watched Whitney’s relationship from a distance, thinking it was crazy she was down so bad for a man but now you understood her more than ever. And at the moment you envied her happy relationship more than ever. 

“The make up sex will be amazing!!” Winnie added, mocking Whitney’s tone. Whitney chuckled, shaking her head. Before you could respond, Teddy came bounding into the room, her little feet pattering against the floor.

 “Mama!” she called out, her eyes lighting up as she spotted Whitney. She climbed up onto the couch clumsily, nestling herself into Whitney’s lap, and wrapped her tiny arms around her mother’s neck. Whitney kissed Teddy’s cheek, holding her close as she continued the conversation.

“It’s not easy, Y/N. But pushing him away because you’re scared will only hurt you both more.” You and her both exchanged sad smiles. Teddy let go on Whitney and clumsily flopped onto your lap giving your thigh a hug smushing her face against your leg. She could sense your sadness and even though she probably couldn’t understand why, her silly hug did more than she knew. Just after, Trent appeared in the doorway, looking slightly sheepish. “Sorry, ladies,” he said, running a hand over his hair. “She slipped away from me. She’s quick y’know.” He laughed. You smiled at the sight of Trent, feeling a strange sense of comfort in the normalcy of the scene. 

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice softer now. “I could use all the cuddles I can get.” You cooed. Trent chuckled, giving a quick hello to Winnie and then Teddy a playful nudge before scooping her up. Whitney gave your hand a gentle squeeze. Trent plopped onto another seat in the room with Teddy, the two of them falling into their own little conversation. 

“You don’t have to figure it all out right now,” she said softly. “But you should be honest with yourself about how you feel, you should ask him point blank how he feels, you deserve someone who will love you fearlessly. Not all this bullshit he’s been doing. At the end of it all, do what is right for your heart, your peace. Just please take care of this girl because she means a lot to me.” Whitney smiled as she pinched at your waist.  Winnie nodded on the screen in agreement, her expression serious and stoic. 

“Exactly. We’re here for you, Y/N. Whatever you decide, you’re not alone in this but also don’t pretend cheap navy polyester blend sheets are ever going to make you feel the way white Italian made Frette sateen do.” She meant it metaphorically but maybe seriously as well about bedroom antics. Whitney shrugged partly agreeing about the bed linen comment. You were a group of three, well four including Teddy, very spoiled girls. You looked at the two sisters and then at Teddy, who was now contentedly playing with the hem of Trent’s top. For the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel so lost. After the conversation with Winnie wrapped up, Whitney decided it was time to shift the mood to something lighter. 

“You know what we need? A Chinese,” she declared, already pulling up the menu on her phone. 

“Whit, baby, you know I can’t have that—I’m in season.” Trent, now lounging comfortably in the corner of the couch with Teddy perched on his lap, raised an eyebrow in protest.

“You’ll survive. Y/N likes the place we order from here so that’s what we’re getting.” Whitney shot him a playful but firm look. Trent sighed, defeated, while Teddy giggled at her father’s expense. 

“Dada no hungry?” Teddy chirped asking Trent, grabbing at his shirt. “Like ‘neese.” She giggled, unable to properly pronounce ‘chinese’ just yet.

“Nah, baby bear. I’m very hungry!” Trent corrected her as he dramatically squeezed Teddy tight to him, locking her in place as he began to nom on her chubby cheek teasingly as she squealed and giggled. You sighed hearing Trent call Teddy his little nickname, a two year olds giggle booming in the room, your best friend watching her family. You felt so lonely in a moment when you couldn’t have been less alone. Soon enough, the smell of takeout filled the house. You gathered around their dining table. Trent’s eyes lingered longingly on the orange chicken, but he dutifully stuck to his more athlete-friendly meal, occasionally sneaking glances at everyone else’s plates.

“Mama, no tanks.” Teddy, still on Trent’s lap, scrunched her nose at the sight of broccoli on her plate. It was simply genetics but there was something funny about watching both Trent, over orange chicken, and Teddy, over broccoli, give Whitney their best identical puppy dog eyes pleading for her approval. 

“Ted, baby,  gotta eat those please. Just a few bites for me, cute girl.” Whitney replied, not missing a beat. “You… “ her eyes flashed to Trent. “Learn some self control. Eat your grilled chicken and set an example for your daughter.”  She giggled. “Eat your broccoli.” She smirked, moving a container more towards them. With a dramatic sigh, both Teddy and Trent picked up a piece of broccoli and nibbled at it. As you ate, the conversation flowed naturally, drifting back to the earlier topic. Trent, who had been mostly quiet regarding the Jude situation, finally chimed in.

“Look, Y/N, I get it. Jude’s been a…” He paused momentarily to cover Teddy’s ears. “He’s been a fucking idiot because he’s scared, just like you are. But being scared doesn’t mean you should just give up on the whole relationship.” He cooed. Your fork paused halfway to your mouth, and you looked at Trent, feeling a mix of gratitude and frustration. 

“T, Jude and I aren’t even in a relationship. We’re just… I don’t even know what we are. And at the moment really nothing at all.”  You sighed, upset that it wasn’t like you were repairing something with a boyfriend. Jude was nothing to you because you never got to labels and that was the problem. Trent leaned forward slightly, his expression serious but kind. 

“You say that and I know that Jude should’ve fixed exactly that but you’re more than just nothing, that’s for sure. But if you just push it all away and ignore what you want, you’re never going to know what it could be.” He softly smiled at you. Whitney nodded in agreement, giving you a similar gentle smile. 

“I don’t want to pile on because I know it’s hard but T’s right, you know. You can’t let fear control this. Jude should be the one to fix it but if it’s something you want it’s worth maybe at least asking one more time.” Whitney pouted a bit being a hopeless romantic. You took a deep breath, letting their words sink in. You knew they were right, but that didn’t make it any easier. Still, there was something comforting about the way you all sat around the table, talking through the mess of emotions that had been haunting you for weeks. When you finished your meal, you felt a little lighter, as if the weight of your fears had been shared among you all. Teddy, after finally eating her vegetables, grinned triumphantly as Whitney handed her a small bowl of ice cream.

“See? Not so bad. You and Daddy are so picky sometimes ” Whitney teased, running her hand over Trent’s head whilst pressing a kiss to Teddy’s hair. You smiled, feeling a warmth you hadn’t felt in a while. Maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to navigate this confusing thing with Jude. And if you stumbled along the way, at least you knew you had people who would catch you.  As the evening wound down, Whitney guided you to the guest room, a comforting hand on your back. You carried Teddy, who insisted on following you two, her tiny arms wrapped around your neck. When you reached the room, you gently placed Teddy down before flopping onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. The weight of the day, the emotions, and the uncertainty all seemed to catch up with you at once. But the despair was short-lived as Teddy, ever the little bundle of joy, clambered up onto the bed beside you, mimicking your flop with a giggle. The sound was infectious, and despite yourself, you found a smile breaking through. You leaned over and planted a few playful kisses on Teddy’s cheeks, each one drawing more giggles from the little girl. It was moments like these that made everything feel a bit more manageable. Whitney sat on the edge of the bed, watching you with a sympathetic smile. She knew you were still hurting, still conflicted, but she also knew that you needed to confront those feelings head-on. 

“You should talk to Jude, Y/N,” Whitney said softly, her tone gentle but insistent. Hearing Jude’s name, Teddy’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“Mama, miss Judey!” she exclaimed, her voice bright and innocent, free of the complications that you were grappling with. Your heart clenched a little at Teddy’s words. You hugged Teddy close, pressing another kiss to her cheek. 

“Me too, Ted. Me too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Whitney watched you, her heart aching for her friend but also hopeful that this might be the push you needed.

“He misses you too, Y/N. Don’t let this slip away without at least trying to fight for it.” You nodded slowly, your mind racing with all the things you wanted to say to Jude, all the things you were too afraid to admit even to yourself. But as you lay there with Teddy cuddled up beside you, you knew that Whitney was right. It was time to stop running, time to face whatever this thing with Jude was—no matter how terrifying it might be. You laid in bed, the darkness of the room doing little to quiet your mind. Every time you closed your eyes, thoughts of Jude filled your head—his smile, his laugh, the way he made you feel both terrified and alive all at once. You watched the hours tick by, each passing minute only intensifying the ache in your chest. You missed him, more than you wanted to admit. 

You accompanied Whitney to one of Trent’s Liverpool matches. After the game, you two along with Trent and his brother, Marcel went out for dinner. You didn’t feel happy per se but you felt relaxed and just comforted by their normalcy and the layer of wine rushing through your system definitely helped lighten your mood. As Whitney excused herself to the bathroom and a fan engaged Trent in conversation, you felt a sudden charge of freedom wash over you. It was like a door had opened, offering a brief moment to do something reckless. Marcel's arm had found its way around your shoulders, and what started as an innocent gesture quickly shifted into something more intense, at least in your mind. In Marcel’s mind it was more in a platonic friend way steadying your drunk movements. You leaned in closer, feeling the alcohol take hold of your thoughts, pushing boundaries you might not have dared cross otherwise. Your thumb brushed over Marcel's lips, slow and deliberate, tracing the shape of them with a glint in your eye. You were testing the waters, watching for his reaction, letting the thrill of mischief spark through you. Marcel smirked despite himself, recognizing the shift in energy, the subtle tension that had bloomed between you two. His heart raced momentarily, tempted by the familiarity of this dynamic. You had hooked up before, and that memory lingered, pulling at the edges of his resolve.

"You have really nice lips," you murmured, eyes flicking down to them and then back up to his face, the challenge implicit in your voice. Marcel chuckled, his hand gently closing around yours as he pulled it away from his lips.

"Thank you sweetheart," he said, with a soft laugh.His tone light but cautious. "They get the job done." He cooed. You giggled, flashing your eyes down to his lips again, emboldened by his response. The banter felt dangerous, electric. There was a fire in your belly that only seemed to grow as you watched his smirk soften into something more serious. The thrill of pushing the line, seeing how far you could take it, was exhilarating. You felt like you were barreling toward something you couldn't quite control, but instead of stopping, you let yourself teeter closer to the edge. The energy between you two was shifting fast, spiraling into something much more charged. It was like standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing the fall would hurt but craving the rush of it anyway. You felt alive in a way you hadn't since things with Jude fell apart, and it felt dangerous, intoxicating.

“I know.” You cooed with a a smug smile. For a split second, you let yourself imagine it—the temptation, the thrill of crossing that line again with Marcel. You were flirting with danger, and a part of you loved the recklessness of it. But Marcel wasn't moving. He hadn't leaned in. He hadn't taken the bait. You could see it in his eyes, the internal battle he was fighting, the temptation wrestling with his conscience. The way his gaze flicked away from yours, the way he gently squeezed your hand as if to ground himself, it all told you he wasn't going to let this go any further. Not tonight. For a moment, you felt the excitement drain, leaving behind a hollow ache. You weren't really after Marcel. You were after the thrill, the distraction from the gnawing emptiness that had been eating away at you since Jude. But as you sat there, staring at Marcel's careful, measured response, you realized this wasn't what you wanted. Not really.

“Lucky you,” he teased, playing along with the joke you started, but there was an undertone of seriousness as his gaze lingered on you a little too long. Marcel’s soft laugh echoed in your ears, his casual response almost distracting you from the sting of rejection you felt coming. You giggled, but the sound was empty, your heart heavy with the weight of what you knew was coming. You sighed, the giggle fading, and pouted without meaning to, feeling childish but unable to stop yourself. The alcohol had lowered your guard, and now, there was nowhere to hide from the vulnerability that was surfacing. Marcel noticed the shift in you, and instead of pulling away, he turned to face you fully. Gently, he lifted your face from where it had been resting against his shoulder, cupping your cheeks with his hands. His touch was soft, tender even, as he looked directly into your eyes. “Listen, it’s not that I wouldn’t,” he began, his voice low but steady. “Or that I’m not interested. You’re gorgeous, and trust me… I hate that I’m saying no. That the right thing is no.” He paused, watching the way your eyes searched his, needing more from him, something to fill the emptiness you’d been carrying. “But you don’t actually want this.” You felt the weight of his words settle over you, sinking in as tears began to form on your lash line. You blinked, trying to hold them back, but it was no use. He was right, of course. Deep down, you knew you didn’t want this. Not really. Marcel wasn’t the person who filled the aching void in your chest. You were after the thrill, the distraction from the gnawing emptiness that had been eating away at you since Jude. But as you sat there, staring at Marcel's careful, measured response, you realized this wasn't what you wanted. Not really. Still, the rejection hurt. Your cheek leaned further into his hand, seeking comfort in his touch. You nodded, unable to form the words to admit the truth aloud, and Marcel’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. His lips pressed a soft kiss into your hair, and you took a deep, shaky breath, inhaling the warmth of his embrace. You pulled away from the hug, your eyes glassy with unshed tears. You managed a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes as you glanced up at him. You blinked, the haze clearing just enough for reality to settle back in. You felt a pang of regret. Not for what almost happened, but for the emptiness that made you chase after it in the first place.

“Would you, though? If things were different?” The question slipped out, your drunken state loosening your tongue. It wasn’t a fair question to ask, but you needed to know, needed some kind of validation that you still had ‘it.’ Marcel chuckled softly at first, but then his face grew serious. His eyes darkened, his gaze holding yours as he leaned in closer, his hand sliding down to your waist, his thumb brushing over the bare skin of your stomach where your shirt had ridden up. He whispered in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. 

“Y/N… You know the answer.” He smirked. “We’ve lived that answer so trust me…you have no idea,” he said, his voice low, sending a shiver down your spine. “If things were different, you wouldn’t still be sitting at this table.” The confession sent a rush through you, a sense of relief flooding your system, like a validation you hadn’t realized you needed. It was a reminder that you still had ‘it,’ that you were still desirable. But as the relief settled in, so did something else—a deeper realization. You didn’t want ‘it’ with Marcel. You didn’t want to be here, chasing after validation from someone who wasn’t the person you truly wanted. You wanted Jude. You wanted the warmth of his arms around you, the sound of his voice telling you that you were the only one for him. No matter how good it felt to hear Marcel’s words, they weren’t enough to fill the void. With a sigh, you pulled away from Marcel, giving him a small, grateful smile. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, unsure if you were thanking him for the compliment or for stopping you from making a mistake. Marcel just nodded, his expression soft, understanding. 

“You’ll be okay,” he said quietly. “You’re just... a little lost right now.” And he was right. You were lost, but maybe, just maybe, you were starting to find your way back. As Whitney returned and Trent's conversation ended, the moment dissolved into the background, just another part of the night. But the lingering feeling stayed with you, a reminder of how far away you still felt from the person you used to be-and the person you wanted to be again.

🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒 Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩

Next part - Chapter 11 xx

[httpsdana]

you could do one where the reader is someone who doesn't like physical contact and héctor is very clingy so he's insecure about it.

Too Much~Hector Fort

*Pictures are from Pinterest*

enjoy <3

request from here

master list -> part 2

players/drivers I write for

It was hard for Hector not to reach out for y/n every time they were together. His fingers seemed to naturally gravitate toward hers, desperate for even the smallest touch. But she never seemed to welcome it. The way she'd subtly pull away or shift to create more space between them started to weigh on him.

At first, he thought it was just how she was, more reserved when it came to physical affection, but over time, that understanding turned into a gnawing insecurity.

Today was no different. They were both sitting on the couch, a movie playing in the background. Hector had his arm resting behind y/n, his body close enough to feel her warmth, but not close enough to touch. His fingers itched to rest against her shoulder, to stroke her hair, anything to bridge the gap between them. But he stayed still, the fear of making y/n uncomfortable freezing him in place.

“Are you enjoying the movie?” y/n asked, turning to look at him.

Hector forced a smile. “Yeah, it's good.” he murmured

But it wasn’t. His mind wasn’t on the movie. It was on her, on the space between them, on the tension that had been slowly building in his chest. He wondered if it was his fault, if he was too much. Was he suffocating her with his need for closeness? Was he doing something wrong?

Later, as the movie ended and y/n got up to stretch, Hector bit the inside of his cheek, hesitating. He wanted to tell her what was on his mind, but the words felt stuck, trapped behind the weight of his insecurity.

y/n noticed his quietness, but she was used to that. Hector wasn’t always vocal about his thoughts, but something about the way his shoulders slumped today felt off.

“You okay?” she asked softly, moving a bit closer to him.

His eyes flickered up to hers before he looked away, as if afraid she'd see the vulnerability in them.

“Yeah, I'm fine.” he said, his voice barely audible

That answer didn't sit right with y/n.

“You don’t seem fine.” she said

He hesitated, the conflict visible in his expression. After a moment, he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Do I… do I make you uncomfortable?” he said

Her brow furrowed confused.

“What do you mean?” she asked

“When I try to be close to you… like, physically,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I feel like you pull away. Like maybe I’m too clingy or something.”

The hurt in his voice made hrr heart sink. She never meant to make him feel like that. “Hector, no—” she started but got interrupted by him

“I just… I don’t know. I’ve always liked being close to you, but I feel like you don’t like it. And maybe that’s just how you are, but it makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong.” he said, his voice weak and unstable

His words hung heavy in the air, and y/n realized just how deeply this had been bothering him. He was always so affectionate, always looking for little moments to be near her, and in her attempt to give him space, she hadn’t noticed the way he was shrinking into himself.

“Hector…” su said softly, sitting beside him again, closer this time. “You’re not doing anything wrong.”

He didn’t look convinced, his eyes downcast as he fiddled with his fingers, a nervous habit y/n hadn’t seen in a while. “Then why do you pull away? Why don’t you… I don’t know, why don’t you want to be close to me like that?”

y/n took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “It’s not that I don’t want to be close to you. I do. I just… I’m not used to being that way. I’ve never been the kind of person who’s comfortable with a lot of physical affection, but it doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.” she said, reassuring him

His eyes lifted slightly, as if hoping for reassurance.

“I care about you so much,” she continued. “And I’m sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t want to be close to you. It’s not you—it’s me, and I know that sounds cliché, but it’s true. I’m still learning how to be more open with that kind of affection.”

Hector remained quiet for a moment, processing her words. “So… you don’t hate it when I try to hold your hand or hug you?”

y/n shook her head. “No. I don’t hate it. I think I’ve just been too in my own head about it, worrying that I wouldn’t be good at it, or that you’d think I was awkward.”

His lips twitched into a small smile. “You? Awkward? Never.”

She laughed slighty, the sound lightening the heavy atmosphere between them.

“I’m serious! But I promise, I’ll try harder. I’ll try to meet you halfway, because I want to make you feel loved.” she said, her voice serious but soft

Hector’s eyes softened at her words, and for the first time that evening, he allowed himself to reach out, gently taking her hand in his. “That’s all I needed to hear.” he mumbled

y/n smiled, her fingers intertwining with his. It felt a little strange at first—being the one to hold on—but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it felt nice. His hand was warm, steady, and she realized how much she had been missing out on by keeping her distance.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t want this,” she said quietly, squeezing his hand. “I didn’t realize how much it was hurting you.”

He shook his head, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “You don’t have to apologize. I just… I just didn’t want to push you away by being too much.”

“You’re not too much,” she said firmly, her gaze meeting his. “You’re exactly what I need. I just didn’t realize it until now.”

The vulnerability in his expression faded, replaced by something softer, warmer. He leaned in slightly, his forehead resting against hers, and for the first time in a long while, she didn’t pull away. She let him close the distance, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath as he held her gently, as if afraid she might slip away if he wasn’t careful.

“I love you,” he whispered against her skin, the words so soft, they were almost lost in the quiet of the room.

Her heart swelled with affection, and this time, she didn’t hesitate to say it back.

“I love you too, Hector.” she murmured back

[puttersmile]

Crittertember Day 16: Sleeping

Yes have some more Puppylove! And a oneshot to go with it!

When the skies darkened Dogday had a sinking feeling it was too late to leave.  He’d lost track of time and without warning a sudden  thunderstorm rolled in. The thunder rumbled, making Dogday tense up and his tail sag. He had always tried to hide his fear of storms, even though his friends knew. 

Bobby didn’t like it much either, but as the storm intensified and it became clear that Dogday couldn’t leave, she nervously suggested,

 “Why don’t you, uh, stay the night? We could… keep each other company?” Bobby saw the rain pouring in sheets outside her window. “ Like maybe we could–”

“S-sleep together? Like… in the bed? Under the covers? The same bed? The both of us?” Dogday stammered, trying to play dumb to mask his own nervousness. 

Bobby blushed but nodded.. “Yes, in the same bed. We’ll be more comfortable that way, and it’s not like I want to face this storm alone.”

Dogday gulped. “I mean, I can always take the couch…”

Bobby shook her head quickly. “No, really. I’d feel better if you were with me. It’s already late enough as it is.” Bobby genty pulled his hand. "Promise I won't bite."

Dogday couldn’t help but laugh, albeit shyly. “Well, when you put it that way… Okay, I’m in. But fair warning, I might need to hold onto something if the thunder gets too loud.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance. “Well, as long as that ‘something’ happens to be me, I think we’ll be just fine.”

She lead him to her room, the storm outside seemed to boom only half as hard as Dogday’s heartbeat. Yet it also made the space feel cozier despite the crackling tension in the air. They settled into bed, a timid excitement bubbling up as they cuddled close. 

Dogday was hyper-aware of her warmth, the scent of her fur, and the steady rhythm of her breathing. It felt right, yet the newness of it all made his pulse race.

Another boom of thunder rolled through, and Dogday instinctively pulled her closer. 

“You weren’t kidding about needing to hold onto something, huh?” Bobby teased.

Dogday smiled sheepishly. “Guess not.” He glanced around, “You know, this is pretty scandalous. What will our friends think?”

Bobby grinned, playing along. “They’ll probably be jealous they’re not getting a warm hug from someone as awesome as me.”

Dogday snickered as he eased his side into one of Bobby’s oversized pillows. “You’re probably right.”

At that moment, Bobby leaned in and began peppering his face and neck with soft kisses, each one sending a thrill through her dog friend, his tail thumping against the blankets wildly. Enraptured by her affection, he managed to joke, 

“H-hey, Bobs! You know, I’m starting to think you wanted the storm to get me into this kind of position!”

Bobby pulled back just enough to smirk at him, her eyes gleaming. “That’s a strong possibility, but I’ll admit nothing.”

A comfortable silence fell between them, the storm outside no longer feeling like a threat but more like a backdrop to this moment.

Bobby broke the silence with a soft voice, “You know, I’ve imagined this… falling asleep with you. It’s nice, even if I didn’t picture the thunder.”

Dogday’s heart swelled, and he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Me too. And I don’t care about the thunder as long as you’re here.”

Bobby giggled. “It can’t hurt you as long as I’m around.”

Dogday yawned. “My hero.”

Bobby smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the blankets wrapped around them. “Well, in that case, I guess we’ll have to make this a regular thing.”

Dogday chuckled, the sound soft and comforting as he started drifting into sleep. Finally his tail rested.

“I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

AN: I doggedly continue making Crittertember art. They should be under the blankets but I drew them first and didn't want to erase half their body lol.

[puma-riki]

No One Noticed...

Synopsis: You've never seemed to make friends well. Sure, you had people you knew and were well acquainted with, but no one ever seemed to get closer to you or want to. You think that no one notices you and you'll continue the rest of your college years alone like all the years before. Except Ni-ki notices just about everything you do.

Pairing: Nishimura Riki x Fem! Reader

Genre: Fluff, Humor (or attempts at), sliIght angst, smau + written parts, idiots to lovers, university au, slow burn

Warnings: consistent cursing

Characters: Enhypen (all), Eunchae (lesserafim), Keeho, Soul, (P1Harmony)

Status: Ongoing (Start: 092124)

Taglist: @bee-the-loser @iaintseggsy @channieismylove | Comment on any chapter from No One Noticed... saying you want to be added to the taglist!! or send me an ask !! | bold could not be tagged :c

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Masterlist | Previous | Next

04. HAPPY WEDNESDAY GUYS‼️‼️ + written

Campus Library 1:54pm

Ni-ki checked his phone for what had to be the 100th time since he took his spot leaning against the wall next to the library stairs. He hadn’t misread your texts, had he? Were you late? Or worse—were you already inside waiting while he was stuck out here, making him look like the kind of guy who didn’t care enough about his grades to show up for a tutoring session he asked for? That thought didn’t sit well, even if it wasn’t possible. Ni-ki had shown up 30 minutes early, too anxious to risk being late.

He opened his phone again, kicking at the small pebbles scattered across the pavement, He was about to send an SOS text to his friends' group chat when he heard a voice

"Are you out here waiting for me?" oh god it was you, he almost broke his neck, turning towards you.

You shifted the worn bag hanging on your shoulder, arms crossed against the breeze carrying the first hints of autumn. Ni-ki locked his phone and shoved his hands into the pockets of his green bomber jacket.

"Uh, yeah." He stood up from against the wall and shuffled his feet awkwardly, "I wasn't sure which study room we were using so, I just thought I'd wait for you to show up" His voice was quiet, and he felt it. This was the first real conversation you two had ever had—and the first time you’d ever looked directly at him.

"Oh, really?" You pouted slightly, your brow furrowing in confusion. Cute, he thought. "I thought I texted you the number. My bad." You walked past him, gesturing toward the stairs. "I’ll make sure I tell you next time, okay?" You smiled softly, tilting your head toward the stairs, signaling for him to follow.

You had only shown up ten seconds ago, and already, Ni-ki's heart was pounding.

He cleared his throat. "Kay," he mumbled, falling into step behind you as you made your way inside the library.

His nerves stayed with him as he climbed the stairs, especially knowing he would soon have to admit he was completely lost in biology—something you excelled at. He didn’t want you to think he was stupid.

After venturing into the library and ascending another flight of stairs, you pulled a keycard from the back pocket of your jeans and tapped it against the door to one of the study rooms.

“This room is reserved for the tutoring program specifically,” you explained, holding the door open for him with a smile. "So, we'll meet here for future sessions too."

Ni-ki felt like he was stepping into a padded cell. He was going to be alone with you in this room for 2 hours, how was he supposed to keep his cool and actually pay attention to the material instead of admiring you. He felt his hands start to sweat in his pockets as he took a seat at the long table sitting horizontally in front of the door after mumbling a shy thanks to you for holding the door for him. He sat his backpack down on the chair next to him as you did the same in the seat across from him.

"So," here came the embarrassment, "What exactly are you struggling with in bio." You gave him a quick glance as you dug in your bag for a notebook and pen.

Ni-ki wiped his hands on his jeans. “Well,” he started, feeling the familiar weight of self-disappointment in his chest, “pretty much everything, honestly.” His voice was quiet, the words almost painful to admit.

"That's okay! Biology is one of the harder classes, plus our professor is kind of a hard ass so it looks harder than it actually is." Your reassurance made his shoulders relax a little, and he let out a breathy laugh, your playful tone helping to ease his tension. You couldn't help but find him a bit cute.

“And it’s still early in the semester,” you continued, smoothing out your notebook page. “I’ll help you catch up.” Your encouraging smile sent a warmth through him. He nodded, wishing he could find his voice.

"Do you have any past quizzes and tests with you?"

“Yeah.” He quickly fumbled through his bag, nerves and the weight of your gaze making his hands clumsy as he pulled out a stack of papers littered with red marks. He felt a pang of embarrassment as he handed them over, watching you flip through his messy work. Red ink stained nearly every page, a reminder of how lost he’d been. He watched as you flipped through them, analyzing where he went wrong and where he had managed to get something right.

“Okay,” you said, setting the papers aside. “We’ll start from chapter one and work through it together. I’ll explain things differently from the professor and see if that helps.” You were already jotting down diagrams and definitions without needing to reference anything, working from memory.

"Okay, cool" he mumbled, trying to not make it obvious that he was taking deep breaths to calm himself down.

You smiled at his shyness, finding it endearing, "Okay so," You finished writing and turned your notebook towards him. As you began explaining biology’s chemical basis, Ni-ki found himself slowly relaxing, nodding along as the confusion in his mind started to unravel. Maybe tutoring wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

Until you asked him a question.

Ni-kis mind went completely blank when his eyes met yours for the first time in the past hour. He felt heat creep up his neck and to his ears, luckily his hair had been long enough to cover it. he defeatedly admitted that he had no clue how to answer. his eyes downcast at the notebook and your hands instead of your face.

"That's okay! That's why I'm here to help you, you'll get better at it." The warmth in your voice surprised him. He was used to strict teachers, but you were different—gentler. he had partially expected you to be as uptight as some of his professors who would've grown impatient with his hesitation and wouldn't have responded so kindly.

You asked a few more questions throughout the session, and though he got most of the first ones wrong, you explained patiently each time, your soft smiles easing his nerves. When he did manage to get a few answers right, you brightened, praising him and diving deeper into the material. He felt his heart soar and warmth spread through his chest when you did so. With each moment, he felt himself relax, though he stayed shy, mumbling his responses and avoiding eye contact. You didn’t seem to mind, even though it was kind of hard to hear him, but you kept it professional and didn't say anything, not wanting him to feel more embarrassed.

"Okay, its 4:03. We can stop here." You say checking your watch. "Do you have any questions about anything from this chapter?" Your eyes meet his for a split second before he's averting his gaze from you and to a random corner in the room.

Ni-ki shook his head, "Not that I can think of,"

"Alright, then. Don't hate me for what I'm about to do" You tease, taking the notebook you both worked in for 2 hours and scribbling something down on a clean page.

Ni-ki raised an eyebrow, chuckling softly. "What are you doing?" He tilted his head to try and get a glimpse of what you were writing. after a minute you slide the notebook back towards him.

"Before Friday, try answering these questions so we can see if things are making more sense." You say, clicking your pen closed and putting it back into your bag. "You can keep the notebook, by the way."

"You're giving me homework?" He jokes, a pout forming on his lips, as he picks up the notebook and scans the questions you wrote down, there were only 5.

"I said don’t hate me!" you laughed. “Text me if you have any questions, okay?" you laughed lightly as you stood up and slung your satchel-like bag over your shoulder. You watched him nod, beginning to put the notebook in his bag with the rest of his stuff.

"Okay, I will, Thank you [name]" he gave you a friendly smile as you began pushing in your chair and made your way to the door.

"Of course, see you Friday Ni-ki!" you gave him a small wave and opened the door.

"See you Friday" he echoed after you. The door clicked shut and then you were gone, leaving him to sit with the fluttering in his chest.

[asuyaka]

Hiii, it's kind of a weird request so I totally understand if you ignore

Would you mind writing fluff with some comfort for Dazai with a trans male reader (ftm), when the reader is very transphobic (only) towards himself, because he doesn't want to be this way cause it's not something 'socially accepted?' the reader is rather chameleonic n generally cares a lot about how he's seen and if he fits in, going as far to change his whole way of acting based on who he's talking with or when he can't mirror someone's personality putting on a charismatic, playful, talkative facade. (Basically a social3 in detail but not manipulative if u know that term) because of his desire to climb social ladder and massive fear of lacking social acceptance, he tries to gaslight himself into thinking he's cisgender most of the time, which only makes him feel worse?? The 'all I want you to do is give me all of your love&applause and for return I'll be whoever you want me to be' type of performer.

Sorry for being picky but please don't write the reader as a submissive scared little thing that can't be assertive at all I hate that in comforts I beg u

★ - this hits so close t'home cause 've always struggled with my gender identity n'stuff then I realized there's a buncha labels, too many f'me to care about ! *^__^*

☆ - Dazai Osamu x FtM Reader!

♡ - really hope I wrote him well f'ya anon ! O(∩_∩)O | CW: copious amounts of misgenderin' (she/her & terms like 'girlfriend are used for the first half, please be warned !!) & transphobic language !

[Name] looked at his her the outfit in the mirror, a black body con dress with a slit that ran up [Name]'s thigh.

The longer [Name] stared at the reflection the more an urge to throw up formed. Dazai would be the door for their date, and every dress [Name] tried didn't sit right.

They were either too tight, not tight enough, too short, too long, or too boxy— the point was nothing worked.

It didn't matter if [Name] put on a skirt or a crop top, they made everything feel worse to the point [Name] wanted to call the date off, but that would make her a bad girlfriend, and she wanted to be good.

The doorbell rang. "Babe? You haven't answered your phone, are you okay?"

[Name] groaned and opened the door. Dazai glanced over her outfit with wide eyes. "Wow. Uh, nice dress, but what's the occasion?"

[Name]'s eyebrow raised. "What do you mean? I always wear dresses."

Dazai walked into [Name]'s apartment and plopped onto the couch. "No, you don't. You told me you hate dresses and skin-tight clothes."

She glared at her boyfriend, a deep frown on her face before scoffing. "Okay, well, I like them now. Girls like dresses anyway."

The brunette paused his actions and stared. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

[Name] rolled her eyes. "What did I say?"

"You're joking, right? You aren't a girl— I asked you out because you're a man, and I wanted a boyfriend."

Boyfriend.

The title made [Name]'s heart well, like a warm blanket draped over her body. It didn't cause that sick, gut-wrenching feeling like 'girlfriend' but they weren't a boy.

They couldn't be a boy.

[Name] gulped thickly. "...I'm not a tranny, Dazai. What would my coworkers think? My parents? I can't— I was born a girl, Dazai, I shouldn't... feel this way."

Osamu gently holds [Name]'s hands. "Baby, what are you talking about? You've always been my boyfriend, you being born a woman doesn't change that."

"But I... it's— Osamu, it's not right. If I act too masculine, I could lose my job and have my neighbors hate me, but I fucking hate having to act like somethin' I'm not." [Name] sniveled, wiping his cheeks at tears that began to form.

Dazai guided his boyfriend to the couch and cupped his cheek. "You shouldn't have to change yourself to make other people happy. You're my boyfriend, the only boy in the world I've genuinely loved, and I don't want to see you destroy yourself for the better of someone else—people who don't even know you."

"If you lose your job for being you, then you could work with me. I'm sure Boss wouldn't mind having a new employee."

With a gentle kiss, Osamu chuckled. "And I'd finally get some work done so I can relax with my perfect boyfriend in the world."

[Name] sniffed as his boyfriend pressed another kiss on his wet cheek. "...is it 'cause you're lazy?"

"Eh... not lazy, just... working smarter and not harder!"

"Not working at all doesn't count, Osamu."

Dramatically, Dazai held a hand to his chest and rolled on the floor. "Woe is me! My boyfriend keeps bullying me even after I call him perfect! What do I do?"

He lightly laughed and placed a soft hand on Osamu's hair. "Maybe take him on a date?"

The brunette immediately sat on his knees with sparkles in his eyes. "He still wants to go with me?"

[Name] kissed Dazai's forehead and smiled. Even with the thoughts swirling in his head, Osamu always had a way to make him feel better. "He'd be delighted to go on a date with you."

[volklana]

Glorious

Title Comes From This Song:

Request: I decided to combine these two-

-Could I please request a modern Sihtric who is clearly suffering from PTSD because let's be honest he would. And he keeps trying to push you away because he thinks he's too much to handle

-I'd love a fluffy first date Sihtric x reader fic. With all the creative freedom to you!

Warnings: Mentions PTSD and smoking

You leaned against the brick wall, trying your friend’s phone number only for it to once again ring out, and you sighed, hugging your top against your body to try fight back at the cold a bit. 

The club was going to be closing any minute now and you had no idea where your friend had gone to, and truth be told this wasn’t the first time she had done this to you. 

You put your phone back in your purse and weighed up your options, you could hang out in this ally (a side door off the club) another little while longer in the hopes she got back to you before the club closed, or you could admit defeat that she had gone home with some guy and hail yourself a cab home alone.

You tried her one more time, and this time you really did feel like crying.

You had only come out tonight for her, even though you had been really going through it lately, she had managed, as always, to guilt trip you into going out to the club, and now here you were alone and depressingly drunk and she was nowhere to be seen.

“Are you okay?” a voice suddenly called through the depths of your despair and you turned your head to find the most beautiful man you had ever seen propped up against the wall, leaning on one leg, inhaling a cigarette and looking at you with big worried eyes.

You shook your head sadly and he pushed himself away from the wall and came towards you.

“Do you need help?” he asked kindly and you shook your head softly but accepted the cigarette he offered you anyway, dipping your head towards the flame of his lighter to light it.

“My friend has abandoned me,” you offered as an explanation after you exhaled, “She always does this shit to me and yet I never learn.” 

“Sounds like a shitty friend,” he said truthfully, but sadly and you nodded because he was right.

“You got anyone else you can call?” he asked and you smiled at him, but shook your head.

“I’ll be okay, I’ll get a cab.”

“Is that safe? On your own?” he asked, looking into your eyes with concern and it was only then in that light that you realised he had two different coloured eyes, one a bright blue and the other a honey brown.

An expression you could not quite read crossed his face and you realised you had been staring, and you snapped to your senses “I’ll be okay,” you repeated once again but he didn’t look convinced.

“Sihtric!” a stern voice called from the doorway and he snapped to attention immediately, “Break time is over get your ass inside.”

The door slammed and Sihtric stomped his cigarette out. 

“I’ve gotta go,” he rushed “But I really wish you wouldn’t get a taxi alone,” he added “I would offer to walk you home but I gotta do the close up.”

You smiled, heart genuinely warmed by his concern and maybe it was the drink, or maybe it was because no one had shown genuine care for you in a long time, but you pushed up onto your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “You are a kind man Sihtric, but I will be fine.”

You both made your way towards the door and Sihtric reached for your arm, “I didn’t catch your name,” he rushed and you giggled “It’s y/n,” before you headed back upstairs to the dancefloor and he watched you go before he made his way back into the bar. But he repeated your name in his mind over and over again so he would not forget.

“And you just let her go?” Osferth asked, wiping down tables, while Sihtric was cleaning glasses.

“Ya didn’t even ask for her number?” Finan quirked his head up from where he was counting tills and Sihtric deadpanned.

“It wasn’t like that guys, she wasn’t even interested in me.”

And even if she was, he thought she is too good for me.

“No?” Osferth smirked, catching Finan’s eye “But you were interested in her!” 

“Oh shut up I don’t know why I even told you guys,” Sihtric snapped, his cheeks tinged red with embarrassment.

“We’re not open yet, love,” Finan said, startled to have found a shy figure in front of the bar when he emerged from the cellar with a crate of beer in hand.

“I know,” you said shyly “But I was wondering if maybe Sihtric was here?”

Finan stopped in his tracks and a sad smile broke out across his face “He’s off today love, he won’t be back until tomorrow.”

You almost stood to attention and repositioned your bag on your shoulder as you rushed out “Okay, that’s no problem.”

“I could call him for you if you need him?” he offered and you shook your head profusely “No, no don’t bother him on his day off, it was honestly nothing. I’ll just be on my way.” 

“Wait. Woah, just hold on there a second,” he pleaded, coming around the bar and halting your departure “Maybe I could give him your number? Tell him you were looking for him?”

You felt suddenly embarrassed and foolish. Would he even remember who you were from the brief conversation you’d had a few nights ago. He was absolutely gorgeous; he must have girls queuing up to talk to him all the time. Damn was he even single?

But you suddenly realised Finan was still in front of you waiting for an answer and you nodded shyly “Sure,” and accepted the notepad and pen he handed you and scribbled your name and number, and you scarpered out before he you could change your mind it wasn’t until you left that a huge smile broke out across his face at the brackets beside your name (the girl from the ally)

Sihtric had barely hung up his leather jacket in the coat room when Finan burst in and scared him half to death. He chose not to make a big deal of the way he flinched so as not to embarrass him.

“Am I, or am I not your best friend?” he beamed and Sihtric looked at him dumbfounded.

“It’s a simple question, am I your best friend or not?”

“It depends on what you want.” Sihtric laughed.

“Ah but my friend it’s not a matter of what you can do for me, but rather what I can do for you,” he extended his hand and Sihtric locked in on the folded piece of paper in his hand.

“You only get this on the promise that you actually message her,” Sihtric nodded and unfolded the note, his heart beating a thousand beats a minute at your number.

He had searched the crowd for you every single night since your first encounter and he’d began to give up all hopes of finding you again.

He turned the crumpled piece of paper over and over in his hands on his break, trying to come up with what to say to you. Sihtric had never been confident with girls, he always fell easily, but could never fully open himself up to someone in case he got hurt, and he had spent his whole life being hurt.

He sent the message, a simple ‘Hey, this is Sihtric,’ and nearly vomited with anxiety.

“I’m so sorry, I’m not even sure what I was doing turning up like that yesterday,” you apologized and he couldn’t help the small smile and the way his heart fluttered “No, I’m so glad you did I was hoping I would bump into you again,” he replied honestly and you smiled in relief in your bed. 

You were surprised with how easily the conversation between you and Sihtric flowed, you were messaging non stop for days and then he called you unexpectedly on his walk home one night and you ended up talking way into the early hours of the morning. 

Days turned into a week or two, and you and Sihtrc never went a day without talking but thanks to his working evenings and weekends and your hectic job, it seemed impossible to plan a day to meet in person.

But soon calls were not enough and it turned into facetimes and you found yourself falling more and more for those eyes by the day.

Until you decided enough was enough and bit the bullet. 

“Are you working tonight?” you messaged as you were applying the finishing touches to your makeup. Your friend had once again begged you to come out, and this time you agreed, only with the hopes of seeing Sihtric again.

“I am love,” he replied sadly, “Did you want to call?”

You felt bad not replying, opting to hopefully surprise him when he saw you later. 

And his eyes nearly popped out of his head when you propped yourself up at the bar and asked for a drink.

“What are you doing here?” he beamed over the music and you swirled your straw around in your glass.

“My friend wanted to go out tonight, I think she’s got a new guy on the go.”

“And you?” he rushed, huge eyes taking in your club attire and his mouth went dry.

“I came here to meet a guy,” you teased and his heart fell into the pits of his stomach but he nodded quickly, hoping to mask his devastation. He didn’t.

“Sihtric,” you rushed, standing up and reaching for him “The guy I’ve come to meet is you!” You smiled up at him softly, realsing he had completely misunderstood you.

He looked to where your hand was in his and smiled shyly, twisting his hand to hold yours over the bar, and then brought your hand to his lips and placed a kiss there.

“Loverboy,” someone shouted and Sihtric sprang to attention “Could we get some shots over here?”

“I gotta-”

“Go- go!!” you urged laughing before making your way out onto the dancefloor. 

Sihtric kept his eyes trained on you all night, even though he was supposed to be working. He watched you beaming, smile contagious as you threw your hands up in the air, hair swishing to the beat and he was jealous. Jealous of everyone you danced with and jealous of how carefree you were, dancing as if nobody was looking. He realised with a gnawing feeling in his chest that you were free, truly free and it was a foreign concept to him. He was always on high alert, always awaiting the next danger, either real or perceived. 

He had always been like this. Clinging to the sidelines, watching from the safety of the shadows. Where he wouldn’t draw attention to himself, where he wouldn’t be perceived. 

You, on the other hand, you could let yourself be free, you let yourself live in the moment, not waiting for the next punch, the next fight or the next betrayal. He wondered briefly if his upbringing had been different, less violent, less hungry and less clinging to sheets in moldy apartments if he too could let himself go the way you did.  A deep sigh left his lips and he genuinely wondered if he could even have a place in your world, and then he felt selfish, maybe he should cut things off before he even tried to become part of your world, he would be a weight around your neck and he would never forgive himself if he was the reason you lost that sparkle in your eye. 

He jumped because Osferth was suddenly behind him and he hadn’t seen him approach, and he followed Sihtric’s  line of sight and smiled fondly when he saw you.

“I am under strict instructions to tell you that I am covering the rest of your shift and you are to go have fun.”

Sihtric whipped around and studied his young friend carefully, “But you never work the bar?”

���Tonight I do, so go and dance with your lady.” 

You watched in delight as Sihtric came out from behind the bar, and you fully expected him to make his way over to you but he walked right on past you towards the stairs and your stomach flopped a little. 

“The fuck is he doing?” Finan demanded and Osferth argued that he must be too nervous “Go after him. Please go after him,” he urged you from across the room and both of them silently cheered when you followed in his wake. 

You knew exactly where you would find him, out the side door smoking a cigarette and you were right.

“Did I make a mistake coming tonight?” you asked, voice small, “Sihtric we’ve been talking non stop. I just thought- I thought that you liked me,”

“I do,” he begged, turning to face you “I really like you. It’s me y/n,” he swallowed harshly and sighed, running his hands through his hair “I’m a lot okay? I’m carrying a lot of baggage, and I watched you tonight, look at you. You’re gorgeous.You’re a goddess and I will drag you down.” 

“So you’re bowing out before we’ve even tried?” you countered “You’d rather decide what I can handle for me instead of giving me the chance to make my own mind up?” 

He slumped against the wall, feeling like his heart was going to beat out of his chest, and you watched him in pain until you spoke again “Or are you bowing out first to try and protect yourself? It doesn’t hurt so much if you’re the one who decides it’s over first right?” 

Sihtric stopped breathing for a moment because he had never been read so clearly in all his life. You saw right through him.

“You don’t get it,” he said sadly “I can’t be carefree the way you are. I’m a lot to carry, I’m heavy and I’m- I think I’m fucked up, I’m different to everyone else.”

“Maybe I do get it,” you answered back “You’ve made up my story for me Sihtric but you don’t know the things I’ve come through to get to where I am right now, and I’m telling you this, you think you’re protecting your heart by shutting everyone out, but I promise you, you are only hurting yourself.” 

Sihtric considered you for a moment, eyes glassy before he blinked.

“You deserve someone- someone whole. Someone who hasn’t seen the things that I’ve seen, done the things that I’ve done. Don’t you get it? It’s not my heart I’m trying to protect, it’s yours. I don’t want to taint you with my darkness.” 

“Sihtric,” you cried, taking his hands in yours, delighted that he let you and didn’t pull away “I can’t even imagine what you’ve gone through to put up these walls and I’m not expecting you to just trust me, but can you trust that I am a big girl and I can handle a lot more than you think, and I would at least like to give us a try. Don’t you think we at least deserve to try?” 

Sihtric closed his eyes, head resting against the brick wall and you could feel his pulse, “I want to. I want to so fucking bad but I don’t know how to let you in,” he admitted. 

“Sihtric, look at me,” you pleaded and reluctantly he opened his eyes to meet yours “We don’t have to figure it all out tonight. All I ask is that you don’t push me away just because you’re scared?”

He nodded, eyes locked on yours “I’m sorry,” he told you gently, and you leaned up on your tiptoes to pull him into a hug.

“We haven’t even had a date yet and you’re already trying to get rid of me, that’s a new record, even for me.”

Sihtric laughed into your shoulder despite himself, and he released the breath he didn’t even know he was holding, feeling the tension leave his neck and shoulders.

“I did try to tell you I was a lot,” he countered and the two of you laughed, washing away the tension of the last few moments.

“Can I walk you home?” he offered after a few minutes in your embrace and you nodded.

“That was my plan all along,” you admitted and he smiled shyly. 

He just walked you home that night, refusing your offer to come up. Insisting that he at least take you on a proper date, after his embarrassing melt down at the club he felt he at least owed you that. You insisted on being on a call with him, his whole walk home so he wouldn’t be alone and he honestly didn’t know which gods to thank for sending you his way. 

“Will you finally tell me where we are going?” you begged, tugging on his hand and he smiled mischievously, “Can’t you just let me surprise you woman?” he teased and you fell in pace beside him happily.

He buzzed the doorbell of a studio apartment and you really had no idea where this boy was taking you, and as you stepped into the elevator he sensed you were going to ask him again, so he sighed and took your hand in his “We are almost there just be patient.”

The elevator doors opened and you stepped into what looked like an artist’s workshop/studio.

You took in the whole scene in front of you with childlike wonder before finally settling on Sihtric who was looking at you sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck, before he made his way over to a workbench and picked up a little wicker basket with a picnic and a bottle of wine inside.

“You mentioned that you loved painting but never get the time to do it anymore, I figured we could have some wine and paint a little?” His cheeks were tinged pink and he looked so embarrassed “It seemed really romantic in my head, I guess-we can do something else if you want-”

-”Sihtric,” you cut him off, tears in your eyes as you made your way over and cupped his face “This is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me,” you cried and the shy smile of relief that crept over his face was the cutest thing you had ever seen.

You had mentioned painting in passing weeks ago to Sihtric when he mentioned that he was an amateur photographer, but you had no idea that he would remember something as insignificant as that.

“Come on let me see?” he begged, and you swiped him away.

“My masterpiece is not complete yet,” you shooed him and he took another sip of his wine, you continued painting until a sudden flash pulled your attention and Sihtric was sat there with his camera in hand looking guilty. 

“I’m sorry,” he laughed “But you look so cute when you are concentrating, your little tongue poking out.”

You laughed shyly and applied the finishing touches before you sat back.

“Are you ready to see my masterpiece?” you laughed and he was out of his seat like a shot.

“Is that…Is that me?” he said flabbergasted “Y/n, I’m gonna cry, this is amazing!” 

“I tried my best to capture you. I fear it doesn’t do you justice though, you are more beautiful in person.”

Sihtric had to swallow a few times to genuinely gather himself unable to process the emotions he was feeling for you in the moment.

“Can I keep it?” he said so genuinely that you were rising to come stand beside him, “Sihtric,” you sighed reaching up to place a kiss to his cheek when he suddenly turned his face to capture your lips, hands flying up to cup your face, and you leaned into the kiss, kissing him back hungrily, and it was like a dam of wanting had burst open.

He backed you into an empty workbench, lifting you onto it and you locked your legs around his waist.

When your hands found your way into his hair he moaned suddenly into your mouth and you couldn’t help but capitalize on the moment, by running your other hand down to the waistband of his jeans and tugging at his belt as he attached his lips to your neck.

“Please,” he was begging, but he wasn’t even sure what he was begging for, more friction, more hair tugging just more of whatever you were willing to give him.

It had been months since anyone had touched him this way and he was afraid he wouldn’t last. Not when you made those precious sounds beneath him, or when you raked your nails along his back. His back that was marred with scars, but if you wanted to mark him he would wear those marks proudly.

He sucked on the soft skin of your neck as he moved inside you and your breathing quickened, he knew you were near.

“Let go. Let go for me,” he urged “I’ve got you.”

And you came around him with a cry, it was all he needed to let go himself.

Grunting from somewhere deep within his chest as he came apart.

You hissed when he pulled out and he went away to fetch some paper to clean up with.

“Gods, you are glorious,” he mused, as you sat up. brushing his fingers through your hair and tucking a strand behind your ear, you smiled at him hazily and he muttered “Just glorious,” again, before he dipped in to steal another kiss from your swollen lips.

Sihtric took your hand and led you through the flashing strobe lights and loud music.

He pulled you close and moved your body in time with his. Running his hands down your sides, grabbing your ass and grinding against you.

He knew his friends were watching but he didn’t care. All he cared about was you and you wanted to dance.

If you were able to nurse him through the nights he woke up screaming in terror, or anytime a loud or sudden noise startled him, he could do this for you.

And he was having fun, he couldn’t remember the last time he laughed so hard at your goofy and carefree dance moves.

The strobe lights above you made you look like nothing short of an angel and not for the first or last time, Sihtric thought you were glorious.

And he wished he could find the words to tell you that for the first time in years he felt weightless, carefree and safe, like you had taken a chisel and chipped away at all the heavy concrete blocks that were weighing him down, instead he settled on kissing you with all his might and he didn’t need to tell you.

You knew. 

Tagging:

@canyonmoon-2 @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @whitedarkmoonflower @thenameswinter99 @foxyanon

@acdassenza @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @gemini-mama

@troyottonick @alexagirlie

a-beaverhausen nebulamorada izzydlb knight-of-flowerss

justcuriousandbored

[mustainegf]

idea: dave has a crush on reader, but reader is kinda skittish and lowkey scared of him bc of his reputation as the big scary frontman of megadeth, so he tries to show reader that he's not a bad guy, lol (i hope i explained this properly)

Awww dude Dave is SUCH A SWEETHEART

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 ¹⁹⁹³

There was creativity in the air the minute I walked in, humming along with the electrical wires. It was like going into some kind of beast's lair. And right at its heart, Dave Mustaine.

I knew Dave for a while, at least I liked to think so. We met through mutual friends, had shared some laughs. But the truth was, I didn't know him, not the way the world did. To me, he was just Dave, a man with a reputation that preceded him, a reputation that quite frankly terrified me just a little bit.

The stories told of him painted a picture in my mind of, ferocity, anger, impatience. And while I was drawn to him, mesmerized even, I couldn't help that I was getting too close to something dangerous.

So when he asked me to join him in the studio, I actually hesitated. But his voice was gentle, and before I knew it, the words were tumbling out in agreement off my mouth.

Now, here I was, standing in the middle of a darkened studio, feeling out of place, and unsure of what to do with myself. Dave stood across the room, adjusting his guitar to his back while he looked different here, he was meant to be here.

Scattered along the room was a few producers, as well as the other guys, David, Nick, and Marty. I fidgeted from one foot to another, not sure if I should say something or just fade into silence.

Then, Dave turned around, flashing me a small, hesitant smile. "Hey, I was starting to think you wouldn’t come," he said in a softer than normal almost…gentle tone of voice.

"Yeah… well I’m here," I said, my voice coming out softer than I really meant. When silence fell, I had to fight the urge not to bolt out of the room. But before I could do anything brash, Dave strode over the room, thrusting a pair of headphones at me.

"Here," he said, "I want you to hear something."

I took the headphones from him, careful not to touch his fingers. There was an uncomfortable meld of stress as well as warmth between us.

I carefully put on the headphones, and he hit a button on the console. Instantly, my ears filled with guitar. It was a new track they were working on, and it was…beautiful. Heavy, yes, but there was a melody in it that never failed to accompany a Megadeth song.

I glanced over at him, and he was staring straight at me, like my reaction meant more to him than anything else in the world. "It's really good, Dave," I smiled, and I meant it. His face relaxed, and he almost looked relieved.

“You think so?" he asked, and for the first time sounded uncertain of himself, which came as a rather big surprise coming from someone like him. I nodded, and he smiled again, his freckled cheeks crinkling slightly.

“It’s called A Tout Le Monde.”

Through the day Dave continued to surprise me. He was reserved around me, almost… shy. It was like he knew I was nervous and had been trying to put me at my ease in whatever way he could.

He asked me what I thought of the music, he was genuinely interested in my opinions, and whenever he spoke, it was a quiet voice, never once raising it, even when the band started arguing over some riff or another.

Whenever he had to leave the room, he'd give me this reassuring look, like, "I'll be right back, okay?”

At one point, on a break, he turned to me and asked me if I wanted tea. Not coffee, tea. I don't know why, but that made me smile. He was just sweet in this unexpected way, a very shocking change to his reputation.

He got it for me himself and brought it to me carefully so as not to spill a single drop. I could feel his eyes on me as I took a sip.

“Good?" he asked nervously.

"It's perfect," I said, giving him a sweet nod.

The longer I sat, the less concerned I was about the terrifying ‘idea’ of Mustaine. He glances at me throughout the day, and the guys could very much tell.

As night came quickly, the band began to pack up. Dave stayed around me, and I felt like he wanted to say something. There was something in the air, that made me want to punch myself to see if maybe it would stop.

"Are you doing anything next week?" he suddenly asked, a little too casual, trying to play it cool but failing.

"I don't think so, why?" I returned, my heart starting to quiver.

"Well, uh," he started off, scratching the back of his neck in a boyish way, "the American Music Awards are next week, and I was wondering if you'd want to go with me… As my date."

My heart basically melted, he was so cute. His cheeks were pink and his hazel eyes flicked between my face and the carpet.

He is a man who can snarl to the world and earn a crowds respect, and here he is, nervous and blushing while waiting for my answer.

I paused, not because I didn't want to go, but this was a side of Dave I hadn't expected. Dave Mustaine was asking me out, and my heart softened at his gentleness.

"I'd love to," I said finally, the biggest smile spreading over my lips.

"Great," he said, beaming wide. "I promise, it’ll be a good time."

“I know it will be.”

[zeroreasonstocare]

Junpei wasn’t well liked. He knew that. Yuji knew too, after knowing him. Even if it was for a little while. He didn’t have many friends, took the brunt of the bullying for them too. He was a nerd, obsessed with horror movies, no matter how cheesy, obviously he was going to be targeted in some high school.

When his mom died, he felt truly alone. Terrified of the finger of Sukuna one of his classmates supposedly placed, and vengeful that someone would do that to his mom. Mahito had a way with words.

After he died, Yuji didn’t know what to do. He failed to save him. He failed to even get rid of Mahito. He cried in the backseat of Ijichi’s car on the way back to Jujutsu Tech. Nanami and Ijichi listened in silence.

“He deserves a funeral.” He manages to get out once he stops crying.

“Itadori, there isn’t a point for a funeral.” Nanami replies.

“No, I don’t care if there’s a point, he deserves to be mourned. He had friends, teachers, a family that’s gone now, he needs-”

“You can’t have a funeral for each person you fail to save, Itadori, it’s impossible.”

“I know that, okay?! I know…” Yuji sighs and looks down. “I can’t save everyone, and I can’t mourn them all, but haven’t you failed to save someone? Someone who was really important at the time?”

Nanami sighs, thinking back to that mission where he lost Haibara. The anger he felt at himself, the pain, the feeling of “if only”. He looks at Yuji, knowing he’s feeling that.

“…We can’t buy a headstone for him.”

“I know.”

“Grab something you can remember him by.”

Yuji runs to that basement where Gojo made him watch movies, and grabs the Human Earthworm collection. He runs back to Nanami.

“…Okay. Let’s go buy some flowers.”

They walk to a flower shop, Nanami buys two bouquets containing lilies, pink carnations, and white chrysanthemums. He doesn’t explain why he bought two. He leads Yuji to a field near Jujutsu Tech.

They stop at the top of the hill and Nanami digs a hole deep enough for Yuji to place the movies. The pink haired boy pats the dirt back into the ground. Nanami places a bouquet over it and places the second one nearby.

“…In my first year, I had one other classmate. His name was Yu Haibara. He was a lot like you. Bright smile, kind heart, eager to help others and join the fun.”

Yuji tilts his head and just listens, watching the older male reminisce.

“We had a mission. It was supposed to be simple. Exorcise a curse. It was assumed to be around our expertise of the time, but was graded incorrectly. He died and I barely survived. Like how you died earlier this year. Sadly, my classmate wasn’t a vessel for a curse that could bring him back.”

“…You were alone through all of high school? The only one in your class?”

“Not exactly alone. I had Gojo and Ieiri as my upperclassmen, they bothered me a lot but it was always an attempt at making me smile. Ijichi was in the year below me. But I was the only Tokyo student in my year.”

“I see.”

“I was unable to bury him, so I chose this place, we always talked here and it meant a lot to me. I grabbed something of his and buried it instead.”

Yuji now understands. He bought the second bouquet for Haibara, someone he failed to save like Yuji did Junpei. He watches Nanami kneel to the other bouquet and whisper something he can’t hear before standing back up.

“Well, I shouldn’t bother him. Hope he and Yoshino will get along. We should head back.”

“…Yeah.” Yuji gives a lingering glance to the hill.

Nanami walks ahead. “I will come with you if you wish to visit more often, I’ll buy fresh flowers too.”

“Okay.” Yuji seems more relieved and walks with Nanami back to the school.

After a few times returning to the hill, he returns alone, three bouquets in hand, the cologne Nanami used in his pocket. He buries the cologne close to Haibara’s bouquet, placing a second one over the cologne. He then places Junpei’s bouquet and sits on the hill, watching the sun set.

“…Thank you for everything, Nanamin.”

Masterlist

[pinkchaosnight]

so here is my adar request. basically in which the fem!reader is taken in ep 5 instead of galadriel. once in adar's tent (during ep 6) they talk and get into a heated discussion about sauron and eregion. their banter gets so intense that glûg walks inside to see if everything is okay and then they both snap at them in union and then glûg whispers something like "oh no, dad and mom are fighting" idk something humorous lol. (excuse my grammar mistakes - English is not my native language). i need tension like air.

omg , tysm for this ask. its absolutely flawless. i enjoyed this ep so much! i have initially thought of doing a small imagine but somehow it turned it into this long, also i diverged from the ask slightly too🥹. i have changed some dialouges and scenarios. i hope you enjoy them!

pull of threads - (adar × fem!reader)

summary: dinner with adar is never straightforward is it? when especially you are captured and essentially sort of a prisoner?

(reimagined rings of power ep 6 where reader gets captured instead of Galadriel)

pairing : adar x female!reader

notes : english is not my first language, so i apologize in advance for the errors you might encounter. i have not properly edited, so please let me know if you find any error.

the uruk leader seated across you is poking his food with a vigour, as he regards you with suspicion. humiliation might be the nicest thing you can describe about what you are feeling right now, (along with some other feelings too but you blatantly ignore them) being captured as a prisoner. you were Lady Galadriel's friend and the her aide, until a few months ago when you retired from your post. everything that was going on was so overwhelming that you had to step away from your duties and that's exactly what you did. you travelled around, mostly staying in woods and forests and praying orcs don't chase you. you almost succeeded too until you recieved a letter from Lady Galadriel stating she needed your help, now that they are going to warn Celebrimbor about Halbrand being Sauron. you were reading her letter without a care for your surrounding that unfortunately resulted in you being captured and brought to the uruk camp. and thats why you were currently in this situation, being seated in front the uruk leader. Adar, he is called, as you recall from the days Lady Galadriel captured him many months ago.

the tent which was made up of dirty rags, was surprisingly warm, with a fireplace and a huge table laden with food. combinations of food that seems almost a disgrace to the plates it hold ; with berries, onions and meat. whoever did the dinner should be tossed into the cliff. the said uruk leader was now biting into a piece of meat from god knows what, as he watches you. if he is hoping to catch something from your expression he has another thing coming for him, as you keep your face as emotionless as you can, although Eru knows for how long.

" from my brief time in your Commander's capture, I guessed she was intent on finding Sauron. almost consumed by the thought of it, one might say." his words sliced the depth of silence that hanged between you and him.

" former Commander. and it is none of your concern what her intentions are. who are you to know her mind? you who could not even resist the allure of Sauron's words?" you reply in a monotonous way, hoping he doesn't find anything there.

Adar stops as he hears those words, as he slowly puts down the piece of food he is chewing. he remembers the first time he saw you; being chained up after being captured by Galadriel. all around him was dark but you came with a jar of water and a loaf of bread for him, when everybody was kind of neglecting him, except for when they needed information and torturing. that simple act of kindess and the conversions that ranged from 'hello' to a simple 'have a good day' that followed from your side warmed what little was left of his beating heart. he remember you being firercely loyal to Galadriel yet having a mind of your own to speak if necessary. he remembers how you disagreed when your commander spoke of his children as slaves. and above all, he remembers how you exuded a sense of warmth in that cold space.

now he looks at you in surprise as he leans forward "former?"

you squirm uncomfortably in your seat. after all, how could you let him know that one of the reasons why you left the army and being her secondin command, was his words? the converstion between him, Lady Galadriel and you, when he was captured really messed up your perceptive. other elves could not see but you saw what he was trying to say; that the uruks were just as worthy of lives and living as other creations of Eru, as each had a heart. you remember disagreeing with Lady Galadriel when she mentioned them as slaves, and Adar's eyes flashing in you direction, with ambiguous emotions.

shaking out of your reverie you say "yes, i am no longer her second in command, so its really useless to have me captured in here. i can offer you nothing. "

adar chuckles at your statement, as he rises from his seat and strides towards you. he stops infront of your chair, as he looks at you with an intense stare. and you couldn't help but stare back at him. those eyes, surrounded by scars and years of mutilation, made your heart ache with pain. you wonder what he was thinking, what he was plotting behind those somber eyes of his. you always wondered what happened to him after you ran away from the campsite that day. you retired and wandered in woods after that incident, with nothing to keep you company but fragments of him in your memory. love and hatred have a fine line separating them; you often heard from your friends and in those lonely nights on the woods you wandered if that is true. if you can cross that line with bravery. something that you are afraid to reveal to anyone. he was the one in your mind and on the other side of that fine line, as swirls of feeling wound up in your heart. a dangerous feeling to have for man who is going to kill you......one day.

"who says you can offer me nothing?" he says as he strides close to your face and tucks a strand of hair back. funny he did that because you had the same thought too, of brushing the loose hair of his and tucking it back. "my children found this in your bag" he says as he pulls out the scroll from a table behind you. "we know the elven army is approaching to find Sauron, in Eregion. And that has all the confirmation i want. and i know Halbrand is Sauron"

desperation washes over you as you see the scroll of paper Lady Galadriel wrote and gave you to read before she parted ways. you never got a chance to read the rest of paper as she and you went seprate ways, before you got caught by his minions.

" whatever your plan is, it is not going to work " you say with venom, as you stand up in anger (or so you thought stubbornly), coming face to face with him.

"do you know what Sauron promised me? " Adar asks you as he studies your expression flits from anger to confusion "children, he promised me children. and he made that promise into weapons of wars, my children mere tools for his gratifications, something which can be eradicated at his whims" he says, his voice a tad quite and flushed with sadness. it took all my willpower to keep my hands from reaching his and comforting him.

" you are going to kill him Eregion, aren't you?" i ask as realisation hits me a few seconds later. he moves back a few paces, widening the tantalizing distance betweeen us and doesn't reply as he keeps his back to me.

" you cannot, i think it is his plan too. i just have feeling in my heart this is exactly what he wants. for you to lead your army to him. we must ask Lady Galadriel's advice" i say as he turns and shoots me a look of disbelief.

"why should i listen to the words of someone whose race is hellbent on eradicating us from the face of this plane?" he shouts as he paces towards you, shaking with anger. "i did not capture you to hear your advice. Eregion will fall and Sauron with it" he says as closes the distance between us, trapping me between the chair and him.

"i want Sauron to fall too, i want to kill him and make sure he is permanently wiped off from this earth. but not in this way." i shriek in his face, which was merely inches apart from mine.

"i do not know why you care if i lead my army or not " he hisses as he moves back from me again, his eyes capturing my own ones in anger and perhaps sadness.

there is a tipping point for everyone's anger and you could feel his words pushing you to yours. you could no longer hold the feelings erupting inside you as you shouts." i care because this will all be ending in blooshed. i care because all my loved ones are going there and i don't want them to die. i care for the lives that will be sacrificed if you chose to follow this foolish plan of yours. and i care that something will happen to you and you will not make it out alive"

reality of the words registers in your brain as soon as the words escape your mouth. you have opened your heart and mouth and let all the dam of emotions you kept inside to turn into a river. and now you are going to suffer the consequences, preferably being submerged in those same waters, which you so kept in binds inside your now erratically beating organ.

Adar was stunned, staring at you in utter silence. his heart tingled, with the same warmth he felt months ago in your presence. his ears has always been the receiver of abuse and bad news, never the object to receive the sentiment with which you uttered the words quite a few seconds ago; words with care...and love. he slowly steps forward you, his hands unclenching from the remnant of his anger and reaching towards your face "you ....care about me.....?" his voice is a mere whisper, tinged with something you couldn't place. this goddess, this beacon of kindness care about him?

you wanted to melt into those eyes of his, that is oh so mysterious and perhaps you would have, if the tents did not flap open suddenly.

" lord father, glûg here. i heard shouts coming from outside. i was worried and just came inside to check if you are okay and if nan--" glûg stops as he sees you standing closely to his lord father. you notice his surprise being replaced with a slight smirk in your direction.

"get out" adar and you both says in unison, as you turn towards the orc in annoyance.

"certainly lord father" glûg says as turns away to exit "just lover's quarrel, lord father and naneth better make up". he exits as quickly as he can, muttering to himself.

you turn your head towards him, only to catch his eyes searching your face "yes i do care about you...." your voice is shaking but not in anger and with some other emotions you tried so hard to bury.

a flicker of emotions passes over his eyes as he glazes his vision over you "you think you are the only one who cares? why did you even think i captured you instead of your Commander, when i could have easily caught her and gotten the information too? why did you think you never encountered any orcs while you were sauntering through the woods? never have you escaped from my mind for a moment from the day we met. i tried so hard to keep every emotions i am feeling, hidden from you. but tonight i can't and i won't. i know i am a monster, an abomination for someone so kind as you. but tonight i am baring the one thing that has not been tainted by the evil , to your hands."

he places your hand on his chest, as you your eyes brim with tears. you feel his heart beating erratically, mirroring yours. "from the day you pulled me from that dark abyss, i decided that this heart will only belong to one person, to the one person this heart wholeheartedly loves."

time stops as you hears his words, it is like honey being poured into your ears. "so does mine too" you reciprocate, as you places his hands on your chest. "you are neither a monster nor an abomination. you are beautiful as Eru's any other creation. i even left the army because of you. because you keep on invading my everyday thoughts. and i kept thinking of how you are my enemy and i how i should hate you. but my heart never responded to any negative emotions, for all it had was love for you."

fianlly you can let this emotion run free, this plaguing need for him that you tried so hard to conceal. you would have stood there for eternity, for all of your immortal life, with his warm hands pressing yours into his chest. no words are exchanged betweeen you two in these seconds; no words are needed as the beating of your heart and the measure of your breath are enough to convey the feelings pouring off from both of you. he slowly closes the already miniscule distance betweeen you, as you step forward at the same time too, the tantalizing distance between your lips almost unbearable. you can feel his breath near your mouth, as your lips part with breathlessness and need. you just need to lean forward and place your mouth. you slowly reach forward, just enough to press the lips against his----

" lord father, i got a sudden report that---what is happening here?" glûg's voice rang across the tent as you and adar both turned to his direction.

" GET OUT GLÛG" you both cries in unison as poor glûg scurries off, being banished from the tent second time. but not before he catches a warm smile passing over his lord father. glûg catches from his peripheral vision, of his lord father pressing a chaste kiss in your cheek before placing his forehead against yours and smiling a genuine smile, which he has never seen.

'things will be good from now on' glûg thinks as he passes over to the next tent, thinking of the elf that thawed the ice of his lord father's heart. the one his lord father told him about months; the one lord father instructed him to call naneth in the future. and the one who made his lord father whole again after eons.

extra notes - all the asks i got, i will update them by this week itself, tysm for requesting! please leave a like and reblog and if you enjoyed reading them. hope everyone have an amazing day :)

[sphnyspinspin]

OMG TFONE HEADCANNON/REVIEW TIME LETS GOO‼️✨💙❤️🩷💛✨‼️

[B-127]

I just want to say I FUCKING LOVED TRANSFORMERS ONE!!! It has officially won a special place in my heart that I’ll cherish fondly until the end of time.

Okay, now I just HAVE to talk about some of my headcannons that theorizes some things that a certain review that—may or may not have irked me the wrong way—has gotten me thinking about. Like, for example:

Is B-127 really just there for comedy relief?

HELL. NO. You know why? Because he was forged to be a yapper, that’s why. He’s a storyteller. He might not be the most mature one in the gang, but he’s the type of immature that stems from being repeatedly outcasted and ignored to the point of not understanding other people’s boundaries or a majority of social cues.

And let’s just face it, everyone is their own type of immature.

His yapping tendencies can actually play a big part in some potential development as more than just a bystander. BY BEING A STAND-BYER! HEY-OH!

I think that B-127 is going to be the one to spread the true narrative about his three other friends during their long trek across Cybertron and their beginnings. Because he was there… he was always THERE.

He was there when Orion Pax and D-16 found the SOS message from THE Alpha Trion. He was there when Alpha Trion was discovered—and was REVIVED thanks to HIS pocket energon. He was there when Sentinel’s allegiance with the Quintessons was revealed. He was there when he, Elita-1, Orion Pax, and D-16 were given the T-Cogs of the deceased Primes. He was there to see D-16 rally the High Guard after beating Starscream for the first time.

And he was there when Sentinel Prime violently carved the face of D-16’s idol into his chest while parading around that same idol’s T-Cog right in front of him… In front of the both of them…

I’m not even going to try to repeat the wise banger that Alpha Trion said about how the T-Cogs are the physical embodiments of their race’s freedom to choose what they become and stuff, because I genuinely can’t remember any of it. I’m so sorry. But I know for a FACT since D-16 and B-127 were both there when he said it they immediately made it a core memory for themselves—therefore they BOTH knew the downright gruesome implications it meant for Sentinel wearing one as a trophy after murdering the Prime it belonged to.

That also means B-127 was able to see what Orion Pax and Elita-One weren’t able to see right before D-16 was about to murder the guy. Yeah, they were able to show all of Iacon all of the shitty actions he did BEFORE he captured B and D and half of the High Guard, but none of what transpired in that torture room was ever broadcasted to any servant class workers, or civilians in general, or to Orion Pax and Elita-1.

But B-127 saw it. He saw ALL of it. He was THERE. He was the only other friend that D-16 had in there, the only other friend of Orion Pax and Elita-1 that was in there. The High Guard didn’t count, they haven’t seen any of what Sentinel did through the lenses of B-127.

Through the lenses of a friend to the inevitable Optimus Prime.

So here’s what I’m imagining. B-127 is going to play devil’s advocate, one way or another, whenever there’s a time when the subject of a conversation would be Megatron related. He would be able to recollect their time together in that room with Sentinel and the rest of the High Guard—waiting to be tortured and framed and EXECUTED in front of the WHOLE CITY OF IACON. B-127 and D-16’s HOME.

He’d most likely be able to sympathize, maybe even EMPATHIZE, with Megatron’s motives. Unlike Orion Pax or Elita-1. Of course we all know that Optimus was friends with Megatron for way longer than B-127, but again he didn’t see what B-127 saw. And… now that I’m thinking about it… B-127 is a little bit like D-16. In a sense.

I think we all saw how eager he was to use his knife hands as often as possible after he discovered them. Kind of like how D-16 became real attached to his canons, both in and out of his alt-mode, when he got them. Oh my god, I could seriously go on and on about so many minor character parallels between D-16/Megatron and B-127 if I could. Like I’m just now thinking about how B and D could’ve gotten along a lot better if they actually got to know each other. The main reasoning why they’d understand each other a lot:

They both know what it’s been like to face the unjust consequences of the system they were unknowingly forced into.

While Orion was, from a shallow perspective, a rebellious punk who was always putting himself in these whacky situations to get what he wants, where D-16 would have to come and save his aft, while he’d suffer the consequences later on. Though Orion was able to subdue D-16’s wrath with calming reassurance, D-16 would still continue to be the “understanding type” from Orion’s perspective as long as he was able to be forgiven after another one of his stunts, that sometimes, he even brings D-16 into against his better—more cautious—judgement.

And Elita being the commanding type, incredibly determined at any given task she puts her mind to, like Orion, she too faced the consequences of Orion’s actions, like D-16. But then again, her strong headed attitude and overall ability to get back up and immediately put herself back to work to accomplish her goals, is what separates her from the rest of the gang; by being responsible for herself and herself only, and when ORION’S actions got HER demoted, she’s rightfully upset and makes it well-known to Orion and holds him accountable.

But B-127 isn’t headstrong like Elita, and he isn’t rebellious like Orion. He’s his own in-depth unique thing that has a slightly more similar comparison with D-16 than the other two. It’s definitely hidden well. But not completely invisible. He’s more complaisant when it comes to facing consequences, especially when he doesn’t have a choice in the system he grew up in.

And so is D-16. He literally said he deserved it when DARKWING of all bots decked him in the face for defending Orion.

As I was saying, I genuinely do believe that B-127’s progression through the story would be him being a kind of devil’s advocate to Megatron, with him being able to better comprehend the events that were put into play and how they conspired into D-16 killing Sentinel, cementing his role as Megatron. And how B-127 would be the one to be the metaphorical dampener when it comes to any misinformation that’s potentially passed around when it comes to Megatron’s “descent into madness” and be able to back himself up with the proof that’s up in his noggin.

He’ll be able to SAY something.

He’ll be able to say that D-16… that Megatron is worth sympathizing, is worth UNDERSTANDING, even when what he did was horrific to say the least.

.

.

.

And imagine how much of a downfall it would be if Megatron were to be the one to tear out B-127’s very instrument that was one of his main tools in saying ANYTHING that could’ve brought a bit more understanding to HIS story… From an up-close and personal perspective, outside of his own.

To show is to inform, to communicate is to educate.

Without his voice box he can always just let someone project his memories onto a screen… but to sit back and not give any verbal feedback of his personal feelings about it, would be less than ideal to the interaction-starved mech we know and love. Especially since he was one of the mechs that played one of the biggest roles in history that could wholeheartedly understand Megatron’s origins more than anyone could know.

[rs-hawk]

(1991 Disney version) Beauty and the Beast au where they met as kids,belle was 8 while Adam was 11 but Adam has been recently turned into a beast,he act a bit bratty but in reality he’s a kid scared of his own situation

Happy Beauty and the Beast week! Here's Day One. I really hope you like it.

Hope this goes without saying, but this is just a fluff piece.

Maurice hated the idea of taking his daughter to that spoiled Prince's castle, but what choice did he have? The Prince's parents had died, and while he was nothing more than a low level engineering advisor to the boy's father, he knew that he was still expected to check in on him, and this would be his first large celebration without them. Maurice also knew that he couldn't leave his motherless daughter at home alone. Not to mention, while he didn't like to admit it, he understood that the boy truly wasn't terrible. He was dealing with more than any child should have to.

It was a short journey to the castle, but when the rain started, Maurice pulled the cart to the side. Belle, bundled in her small cloak, was huddled close to her father, trying to keep warm and somewhat sheltered from the rain.

"Father, we're going to be late," she said through chattering teeth.

"I know Belle, but it's not safe to continue in this kind of weather. We have to wait out the storm," her father sighed, looking up through the canopy of the forest at the falling rain. "Why don't we make ourselves comfortable, hm? You can take a nap so that way you have plenty of energy to make it up to Prince Adam. I'll let you stay up later so the two of you can play when we get there."

Belle puffed out her cheeks and furrowed her brows, looking incredibly cute, but also incredibly annoyed. "But father, I don't like playing with him. He always has to win and if he doesn't, he's mean and will ignore me for the rest of the day."

"I know Belle, but he lost both of his parents. He's just trying to control what he can. You can be nice for a night, can't you?" Maurice was trying to be sympathetic to the boy, though he understood why it was frustrating for his daughter.

The girl hung her head, as if ashamed. She had lost her mother, but at least she still had her father. She couldn't imagine life without either of them. "Okay. I can be nice, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let him win."

The rain suddenly stopped, and the clouds parted, allowing for the bright moonlight to rain down. "Well, look at that Belle. Maybe we won't be late for the party after all."

With that, they headed off towards the castle, with no idea what was in store for them. When they arrived, they were confused to see that there didn't seem to be anyone else there. Just the typical servants. Maurice took the horse to the stables while Belle dried off. After that, they made their way to the front doors of the castle. No one was there to greet them.

"How odd," Maurice muttered after knocking again. This time when no one appeared, he opened the door for himself. "Potts? Are you there? Cogsworth?" the man's voice verberated throughout the empty hallways, reaching for the ears of the servants he was closest with. No one answered. "Belle, maybe you should wait here."

"No, I want to come with you. It's scary here," Belle said in a soft voice as she grabbed her father's hand.

"LEAVE," suddenly a booming voice filled the entire castle, but it sounded young. Belle's ears perked up. It sounded almost like Adam. "I said LEAVE!"

"Adam, what are you doing?" she huffed, letting go of her father's arm to walk towards his voice. "We were barely late at all. There's no reason to talk to us like that."

"Belle," Maurice reached for her, but she had already begun to run off, his heart pounding in his chest as his blood felt like it was turning to ice.

"Leave peasant," the voice, somewhat like Adam's but somewhat different, came again.

"Why are you being so rude? I came all the way here, in the rain, to come to your party. The least you can do is greet me properly," Belle called back, stopping at the top of a set of stairs and looking around. Where was he?

Finally, Maurice caught up with Belle, huffing and puffing as he did. "Belle, please, I think we should leave. Prince Adam clearly does not want our company at the moment."

"No! He's being rude," the girl insisted, darting off towards the library, where she knew Adam often spent time.

The large doors were partially open, and she saw a flickering flame inside. That gave her the courage to finish pushing one of the doors open. Inside the library was a small, furry beast of a boy. Unable to keep it inside, a scream ripped from Belle's throat. She stumbled back, and the beast covered his ears, shrinking into himself.

"I told you to leave," the beast whispered with a cracking voice.

Belle stopped just as she turned to run. She recognized that voice. Even as her father was screaming her name, she turned back to look at the puddle of fur and self pity on the floor. "Adam?"

"You really should use my proper title," the beast muttered, pulling his tattered cape tighter around him.

"Are you okay?" Belle asked in a soft voice, cautiously walking over to him.

That was all it took for the boy to break out in tears, grabbing at his ears. "No! How could I be? Look at me? I'm a monster. A beast."

Belle sat beside him, twiddling her thumbs. Adam didn't make any move to get up, or to seek comfort with his only friend. Finally, Maurice made his way into the library. He ran towards his daughter, ready to strike the creature she was sitting beside, even as she shouted protests. However, when the small beast looked up at him, he faltered. He knew those eyes.

"Prince Adam?" he asked, stumbling to a halt.

The boy nodded, now extending and retracting his claws. "Can... can you get Mrs. Potts? She's in the kitchen, and I can't see her right now."

Maurice nodded dumbly, still staring. "Alright my boy, but after that, you'll tell me what's going on here."

"Okay," Adam whispered, plopping his head back on the rug in front of the fireplace.

[shannonsketches]

Why is the anime so weird, it's not even the same series dude?? It's like,

Anime:

GOKU: I have a great idea to bring peace to the universe, and my leadership and compassion alone will unite us all. I have No Flaws and am A True Relatable Everyman :)

VEGETA: NO! I AM THE BEST AND I WILL CAUSE PROBLEMS UNTIL I AM RECOGNIZED AS SUCH!!!!

Manga:

GOKU: Vegeta what's cornmeal made of? I know it's what the corn eats, but what's it made of? VEGETA: Hey Kakarot let's play the quiet game until one of us dies.

[kaeyapilled]

. (tw heterosexuality)