#saw that post that’s like five topics you could talk about for an hour with no prep

[monstarfunk]

.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗚𝗔𝗟𝗔𝗫𝗬 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟

　　　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Matt has a crush on Y/N, an influencer extremely well-known in the USA, but when she goes to the Zach Sang Show, Matt discovers that she also has a crush on him. When the two meet at a party, how will Matt react?

REQUESTED?: Yes, from anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

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"Hi beautiful people! I'm Zach, and that is Dan, and welcome to the studio for the first time after many requests, Y/N!" Zach began with his standard intro, the camera moving away from him and onto Y/N, who was sitting comfortably on the couch facing her microphone.

"Hii, wow... I've lost count of how many nights I've spent hours watching your show, Zach, so being here is an honor! Thank you so much for having me." Y/N spoke with a smile on her face, her eyes shining with excitement.

"It's amazing to have you here too. Believe me, the honor is ours." Zach replied, smiling just as much. "But tell me, how is life? Crazy, I imagine." He asked with a smile, taking in Y/N's features.

"Don't remind me, literally crazy! As I have Instagram, Tiktok, and YouTube to manage and post content every day, at least in one, I haven't had time to stop much, you know?" Y/N spoke while gesturing with her hands. "But it's been incredible. Over the past five years, I've loved every moment of it."

"I can only imagine, especially since you have a knack for fashion too, right? I see you a lot at events." Zach commented, taking a sip of his water.

"Yes, exactly. My content is a little bit of everything: humor, fashion, relationships, makeup, Q&A, day-to-day life, etc. I like this really mixed stuff." The girl let out a laugh when she finished.

"Yes, I think that's what attracts so many audiences to you too, right? You have subjects that cover all audiences." Zach commented, receiving a nod from the influencer. "And tell me a little about how it all started, from the beginning."

"Well, I've always been a person who loved to talk, my friends at school joked that if I sat next to an unknown person for ten minutes, within the first minute I would come up with a random topic and start a conversation." Y/N smiled when she heard Zach comment that that was something super interesting and traits of an extroverted person. "Plus, I've always liked having an audience and social media. I had Musical.ly many years ago, where I posted short makeup and hair videos."

"Wow, Musical.ly, I completely forgot it existed." Dan commented, laughing along with the other two.

"Yes, it looks like it was a crazy dream." Zach nodded, glancing briefly at Dan before returning his gaze to Y/N. "I saw some videos from that time. You once mentioned that you took makeup courses, right?"

"Yes, I took makeup courses at Make-up Forever Academy while I was at school. It's always been my favorite hobby." Y/N said, as she stirred her Starbucks coffee cup, her drink still warm. "And on Musical.ly, I only posted that, but over time, the app lost popularity, and people started looking for me on Instagram. At the time, my Instagram was pretty empty, I didn't post almost anything there, just some also makeup things. But then, I needed to change that since Instagram gave me a lot more tools to create more expansive content. It was the moment that I completely lost my shyness with cameras, you know? That's when I started talking about other things besides makeup and hair, and the audience grew. Famous people started following me as well, I remember I panicked about that." She paused, laughing, accompanied by Zach, who was listening intently.

"And my followers started asking for a YouTube channel, where I could make longer videos and each one about something specific. I thought a lot about it, but I took courage and created my channel, and it totally exploded, almost all of my followers from Instagram started to follow me there, but on YouTube the number of people doubled."

"It caught the attention of the public who only used YouTube, right?" Zach commented, nodding in understanding.

"Exactly! And I was just with this two social medias for a few years, until I discovered Tiktok, that's when I discovered that it was like an improved Musical.ly, and that a lot of people made content just on it. I remember thinking: why not? I was already fully on the Internet, and it wouldn't hurt to have another social network. The audience continued to grow, and there were shares all the time, likes, and comments, and with that, we reached 16 million subscribers on YouTube and 6 million followers on Tiktok and Instagram." Y/N finished, her face showing a smile as she momentarily remembered her long journey there.

"Your history with the Internet is truly incredible, you are one of the biggest influencers in the United States and well known all over the world, having started at 15 years old and fighting to grow and gain your own space." Zach praised, clapping playfully as Y/N waved her hand like it was nothing, her face turning red in embarrassment. "But you mentioned a subject I wanted to bring up: celebrities." He said, laughing when he saw the girl take on a fearful look.

"Jesus, what are you going to say?" Y/N asked with a smile on her face, she had already opened up her life and tastes so much to her audience, that she knew she would definitely have said something about celebrities that she didn't remember at that moment, but that Zach would bring up.

"There was a video on Tiktok where you were answering a question from a fan, who had asked what your favorite YouTube channel and your celebrity crush were." Zach began, approaching the microphone to his face. Y/N widened her eyes, taking a sip of her drink to hide her expression, vaguely remembering the video in question. "And you answered that your favorite channel was the Sturniolo Triplets and that your celebrity crush was Matt Sturniolo, is that correct?"

"Oh my God." Y/N muttered, hiding her red cheeks in her hands. "Yes, it is." She let out a nervous laugh. "The triplets are super funny, I just love their content! I'm not going to lie, I've never missed a video of them. I saw that Chris came here this year, right? I think their journey with YouTube is incredible." She said, Zach nodding as he confirmed that Chris had been on the show recently.

"They really are incredible people. Their content is gold. But, is Matt still your crush?" He asked again, looking at her with a smile on his face.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" Y/N asked as she smiled sheepishly. "Yes, he's still my crush. I mean, have you seen that man? He's hot, has an incredible sense of humor, and is kind! Just perfect, just no more than Harry Styles." She counted the characteristics mentioned with the fingers of her right hand, laughing when she mentioned the British singer, trying to take all attention away from her admission about her crush.

"Yeah, guys, it seems like if you're not Matt, or Harry, you don't enter Y/N's list." Zach joked, looking at the camera, receiving laughs from the other two there.

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The triplets were lying on the sofa in their home, each in a corner of the space, while using their phones. Sounds of tiktoks and reels echoed through the walls.

Nick was on his tiktok, browsing his For You, watching the millions of edits that his fans made for them, some videos of other subjects appearing from time to time. The boy let out a laugh when he saw an edit of himself with clips taken from the last car video, double-clicking on the screen to give it a like before scrolling his thumb up, Y/N's voice suddenly sounding from his phone.

Nick took his thumb away from the screen momentarily, paying attention to what one of his favorite influencers was saying, smiling as he heard her tell a little about her history with social media.

His smile was replaced by wide eyes seconds later when the girl's comment about his channel with his brothers and about Matt sounded.

"What?" He asked loudly, catching the attention of Matt and Chris, who had confused looks on their faces.

"What what?" Chris asked, locking the screen of his phone and tossing it to the side.

Matt only looked up from his own phone screen momentarily, returning his attention to his Instagram feed.

"You know Y/N?" Nick asked, his eyes darting from Matt to Chris quickly.

"That super famous influencer that Matt has had a crush on for years? Yes." Chris agreed, nodding his head as he adjusted himself in his seat, receiving a slap on the arm from his brother, who lowered his cell the moment the girl's name left Nick's lips.

"She knows who we are, and not only that, she talked about us on Zach's show." The redhead said with wide eyes.

"Zach Sang?" Matt asked, receiving a nod from Nick, who got up and walked closer to his brothers, sitting between the two and raising his phone, increasing the screen brightness and volume before hitting play on the tiktok again.

The video was a compilation of the show's favorite moments with the influencer. The triplets watched in silence until they got to the part where Y/N talked about her channel, also confirming her crush on Matt. Chris quickly turned his face to Matt with his mouth open in shock.

"Matt, THE Y/N has a crush on you." Nick reinforced, pausing the video and turning to his brother, who had wide eyes as he looked at the phone that had Y/N's face on the screen, a disbelief look on his own face.

"That's crazy." He muttered, shaking his head in denial. "It's not possible that my longtime crush has a crush on me, too. That only happens in movies. Right?" Nick rolled his eyes at the comment.

"It might be crazy, but it's not a lie. She wouldn't talk about our channel and reveal her crush on you if it was a lie or a joke." Chris commented as he fixed the hood of his sweatshirt, earning a nod from Nick.

"Next week, there will be that huge and super chic party for the biggest influencers and YouTubers in the United States here in LA, and we received an invitation. I'm absolutely sure she will be there. It would be a great opportunity to make contact with other YouTubers and get to know her, maybe even ask her to participate in a video with us." Nick reminded his brothers of the invitation, locking his phone screen and looking at the two.

"Are you sure about that?" Matt asked, an expression of uncertainty on his face. Out of the three, he was the least fond of parties, although none of them were very fond of it either.

"It would be great for the channel, Matt." Chris reinforced, shrugging. "It wouldn't hurt to try. If we don't like it, we can leave right away. But meeting Y/N seems amazing to me right now, and it would be a great opportunity for you."

"Okay."

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"Are you guys sure about this?" Matt asked after turning off the key in the ignition, keeping his hands on the wheel as he looked ahead, his ears picking up the loud sound coming from the party.

"Matt, it's just going to be a test, okay? It's interesting for us to make more contacts." Nick responded from the backseat, resting his hands on the sides of the front seats as he looked in the rearview mirror, waiting for Matt to look back.

Matt looked up, focusing on Nick through the mirror, who had a neutral expression. The boy shifted his gaze to Chris beside him, who was already looking at him.

Chris offered a reassuring smile, taking his left hand to Matt's right shoulder, squeezing the area.

Matt exhaled deeply as he mentally prepared himself. It had been years since he had attended such a big party.

It didn't take long for the triplets to get out of the vehicle. Matt locked the doors before they started their walk to the mansion where the loud sound of pop music was coming from.

Nick quickly pulled from the pocket of his jeans the invitation he had received in the mail that stated his and his brothers' names on expensive-looking paper and beautiful writing, holding it ready to present to the security guards at the front.

After being granted entry, the three entered the house, stopping for a few seconds at the beginning of the living room while their eyes traveled over the people there, recognizing some of their social media.

The mansion was extremely chic, decorated with golden tones and diamond chandeliers, long marsala red curtains covered the huge windows and columns that resembled those of Greek temples were spread throughout the space, along with two staircases in each hemisphere of the room with wooden handrails and a red carpet that led upstairs.

Youtubers, influencers, and celebrities filled the space, talking or dancing, some drinking, dressed in extravagant and expensive clothes.

Chris surreptitiously pointed to a specific point, making his brothers look there.

"That's Y/N, right?" He asked, earning a nod from Nick.

To Matt, the earth seemed to have stopped spinning, and the world seemed to have become static. The celebrities in the room suddenly stopped, the sound became muffled, and the smell of drinks and perfume disappeared. His breathing seemed to catch, and his throat felt dry.

Y/N looked perfect, having opted for an all-silver outfit: a mid-length skirt with a thigh-high slit from Diesel draped in synthetic silver along with a white crop top also from Diesel adorned her body. A pair of thin silver high heels decorated her feet, complemented by a silver Diesel bag and jewelry in the same color.

She looked like she came out of one of those galaxy movies, but much prettier than its characters.

Matt could have watched her from afar for seconds or minutes, just admiring her beauty and every detail of herself, but it still seemed to be too quick for his liking. Nick woke him from his hypnosis with a weak slap to his chest, getting his attention.

"You definitely don't know how to disguise it." He commented, rolling his eyes.

"Shut up, Nick." Matt responded quickly, frowning and briefly looking at Y/N again, before turning to his brothers. "I'm going to get something to drink, are you coming?" He asked, needing a cold soda at that moment.

Chris nodded, answering for himself and Nick, following his middle brother to the bar that was in the separation between the kitchen and the living room.

The space was extremely chic, a circle-shaped bar with a gold colored counter decorated with details in yellow and navy blue tiles, giving an air of wealth. At the front there were stools with synthetic gold upholstery and at the back, after the space where the bartender circulated, there was a large circular and high table filled with all types of drinks, including the most expensive ones.

Matt leaned his hips against the counter, choosing not to sit down, and glanced briefly at the bartender.

Nick sat on the stool next to him and Chris sat next to Nick, the two starting a conversation about a subject that Matt didn't pay attention to, his attention focused on the people around him, or rather, on one specific person.

His blue eyes went back and forth to Y/N's silhouette, admiring her from afar as he wished to be by her side, accompanying her and being the person she was talking to.

The girl next to Y/N and who had been talking to her since the moment Matt entered the room walked away, saying something while blowing an air kiss to the influencer, who smiled in response and turned around, facing where Matt was, but not looking directly at him, running her eyes around the people while taking sips of her drink, probably alcoholic.

Matt took a deep breath as he gathered his courage, straightening up and starting to take long steps towards the girl, crossing the room and passing among the famous people there.

"Matt, what do you want to- Matt?" Nick began, turning to where Matt was and stopping mid-sentence when he saw that his brother was no longer there.

"He's on his way to get his pot of gold." Chris commented, poking Nick with the index finger of his left hand and pointing at Matt, who was already approaching Y/N.

The brunette stopped next to Y/N, turning so that he was also facing the people around and shoulder to shoulder with her, a few centimeters between them. His hands were in the front pockets of his jeans as he breathed slowly, trying to calm his nerves.

And then her voice sounded like it was the easiest thing she'd done all day. Her voice was silky in person, so inducing that it sent goosebumps across Matt's skin.

"You were working up the courage to say hi..." She lifts the glass, taking another sip, her lips shiny with gloss and bright red lipstick, her tongue escaping her mouth momentarily, licking the residue of the drink there. "Or would you just stare at me all night?" She turned around, facing him.

Matt almost choked on his own saliva as he heard Y/N confirm that not only had she noticed he was there, but she had also noticed that he had been looking at her this entire time. A weight settled in his chest. Perhaps it was shame or lust due to the way she said that without reservation.

"I didn't mean to disturb you. You seemed quite engaged in your conversation." He made up an excuse, knowing full well that he could have gone to the girl from the moment he arrived, but his fear of what would happen held him back.

"Engaged? In a conversation about who here has the most money and fame?" Y/N threw back, furrowing her eyebrows.

Matt looked around them, stopping his eyes briefly on the girl who had previously spoken to Y/N and who was now watching the people with a gaze torn between judgment and desire. A loud laugh escaped his lips as he shook his head in denial, the pettiness of some people impressed him.

"For what it's worth, you're the only famous person here that interests me." Matt commented, his blue eyes focusing on Y/N's face, analyzing her closely. An expression of satisfaction came over his face as he saw a red color take over her cheeks.

"You flatter me, Matt." Y/N looks back at him, their eyes meeting for a few long seconds, before hers travel across Matt's face, mentally taking note of every detail she could notice in the few seconds.

The boy smiled arrogantly when he saw her eyes on him, receiving an eye roll in response.

"Do you like what you see?" He asked, his voice taking a deeper tone and his pupil dilating as his lips stretched into a smirk.

"Don't let it go to your head." Y/N responded as she scoffed playfully, allowing the beginning of a smirk to emerge on the right corner of her lip.

At that moment, Matt felt like he could do something, anything, that would make her smile like that again or smile a bigger smile. He thought of a million possibilities of what he could say to cause that reaction in her, longing to feel the butterflies in his stomach again.

"You look beautiful tonight." Matt praised, his blue eyes traveling over Y/N's body momentarily, returning to her eyes. "Not that you just look beautiful tonight. You always look beautiful. But today you..." The boy tried to justify, getting caught on his words. "Look perfect."

A sigh escaped his lips, an apologetic look taking over his eyes as his right hand scratched the back of his neck lightly, feeling like a complete idiot for getting tangled up in front of the girl he has a crush on.

"I'm sorry, this isn't how I pictured myself meeting you." He groaned, looking at the ground in shame, hoping something would surge and save him.

"So you imagined meeting me?" Y/N smiled, feeling arrogant. She bit her bottom lip, feeling smug as she watched Matt blush and his eyes widen. "I'm kidding. You look beautiful tonight, too." Y/N let out a low laugh, returning the previous compliment, running her tongue between her lips, wetting them as her eyes traveled over Matt, pausing lingeringly on his exposed collarbone with the tank top he was wearing, the necklaces that decorated his neck made her mouth water.

Before Matt could even open his mouth to answer her, the sound of footsteps approached, catching both their attention. Y/N tore her eyes away from Matt's blue ones and looked ahead, seeing the same girl from before approaching again, holding herself back from instantly rolling her eyes.

The boy realized that the conversation would change direction and that, perhaps, he would no longer be included in it. A subtle sigh escaped his lips, and he tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans again, looking at Y/N briefly, realizing that she was already looking back.

"I'm sorry." She asked, pressing her painted lips into a thin line before a beautiful, wide smile replaced it. "Text me on Instagram. You will be my priority to respond." Y/N spoke before being gently pulled away by her "friend", turning her face back quickly and sending the brunette a wink before looking forward again.

Matt watched her from behind as her high-heeled legs took long, quick steps away from him, a goofy smile taking over his features. He would definitely send that text.

[waratah-vroom]

Silly Season (ln4)

Liked by alex_albon, landonorris and 700,284 others yourusername: Oh Canada, you have my heart

lilymhe: Of course you'd post food over race content 😂

“And here we have former F2 champion and the first Williams' driver to win a race since Pastor Maldonado-” you heard Ted call your name as the camera man shoved his lens in your face. “Have a second to talk?”

“Always for you, Ted,” you put on your sparkliest smile for the camera and leant against the railing outside the hospitality building you had been seconds away from entering.

“You and Alex did well in qualifying, did that send some well needed morale throughout the team?”

“P6 and P10. Not too bad, eh? Of course doing well in quali is always a mood boost.”

“While I have you I have to ask about Lewis' contract negotiations.”

You groaned, “you were doing so well, Ted!” 

This particular topic had followed you since you’d joined the Mercedes Junior team alongside George in 2017. You became their test driver in 2019 with all eyes watching as you became the first female driver to win the F2 championship. George had been promised an eventual Mercedes seat first and you were happy to wait your turn at Williams. 

George hadn’t exactly been thrilled as he watched you accomplish more with the midfield team than he had ever been able to; scoring five podiums and one win since you’d joined the team three seasons ago.

“I know, I know, but the rumour around the paddock is that you’re next in line for the Mercedes seat when Lewis retires.”

“If Lewis retires. And I don’t think he will.” Toto had come to you as soon as they had started contract negotiations. He’d told you flat out that they wanted to keep the former world champion on the team.

“So there’s no plans for you to reunite with your former team mate?”

“Not that I’m aware, no. Alex and I work well together and I’m quite happy with how things are going. We won a race last year, had a few podiums-”

“And the season’s been looking good this year. You’ve gotten points in every race so far.”

“I know! In a Williams!”

“In a Williams!” Suddenly, Ted did what you’d hope he wouldn’t and noticed where you were standing. “I know we’ve been talking about a move to Mercedes, but how about a move to McLaren?”

The cameraman zoomed out to show you leaning against the railing outside McLaren hospitality.

“Would you believe it if I told you they’re the only team that has the name brand Wagon Wheels?”

It didn’t seem like he believed you. “You’ve come all the way to McLaren for biscuits?”

“Not just biscuits, Ted. Wagon Wheels. Plus I need to rub my three hundredths of a second lead in Lando’s face.”

“A true quality of a good sportswoman.” He could sense you were getting fidgety as you kept checking your watch, so like a professional he began to wrap it up. “Lovely talking to you as always, I’ll leave you to your Wagon Wheels.”

“If I see you later I’ll sneak you one,” you grinned as you finally slipped away to enter the building.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“What took you so long? I saw you outside ten minutes ago.” He’d tossed his phone on the couch beside him as soon as you’d stepped foot into his room, shrugging off your spray jacket. He held his arms out wide, a silent signal for you to move into his reach, which you happily did as his hands found rest on your waist.

“Got caught talking to Ted about my move to Mercedes,” your words were mumbled through a mouthful of biscuit and marshmallow. You hadn’t been lying about the Wagon Wheels. 

He pulled you forward until your knees hit the couch, forcing you onto his lap. “When did that happen?” 

Licking chocolate off your lips you smirked, “It didn’t. Hi baby,” you slung your arms over his shoulders and his cold hands slipped beneath your tee-shirt.

“I missed you today.”

“You saw me in the pit lane an hour ago.”

“I know, but it’s not the same. I missed this,” he squeezed the flesh on your hips, his lips catching the underside of your jaw when you moved your head back. “You coming to my room tonight?”

“I dunno,” you fiddled with the drawstrings on his hoodie, twisting them around you finger. “Got a big race to prepare for tomorrow. Gotta keep my lead.”

You knew you should sleep alone before the race and get the full eight hours your coach was always talking about, but this man had his fingers wrapped around your heart and you knew it wouldn’t take much of his pleading or puppy dog eyes to end up in the same bed.

“Baby,” his little whine was always the same when he wasn’t getting his way, and you hated to admit it was adorable. And hard to turn down.

“We’re not having sex.”

He nodded, “just cuddling. I’ll even come to your room.”

“You say that but we’ll get in bed and you’ll try something,” you knew from experience. It’d happened before and all the thoughts about sleep and rest went out of your head the second he had his head between your thighs.

“I won’t, I swear. I’ll shower before I come over, I still have those pictures-”

“Lando,” you didn’t need to be reminded of the photos hidden away behind a passcode on Snapchat.

“Pretty please? I won’t even say anything if you want to watch that show you like.”

“You wanna watch Never Have I Ever?”

“No,” he drew out the syllable and you could feel him fidget beneath you. “But I’ll sit next to you and play on my phone while you watch it.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you,” it came out sarcastically but he just grinned, pressing his lips against your own.

“Do you think we have time for a-”

“Do not even think of finishing that question," you glared at him as he had the audacity to pout, his tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip as his fingers crept up to tug on the hook of your bra. "You have ten minutes."

part 2 | read more of my writing here.

Made to order for a sweet anon for my perfume collection xx

ﾟ｡ ⋆ mags' radio: Pls join me in my fantasy of williams being a midfield team. I really love the idea of George being jealous that reader has been able to achieve more in a Williams than he ever was. Anyway, I said that I had a bigger backstory for driver!reader and lando, so if you like this let me know and I might write the beginning of there relationship/ them revealing it to the grid. Going to do a part 2/soft launch insta series for them next! ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡

taglist: @fulla02reads @lazybot @flowerchild-96 @camillalarke @cool-ultra-nerd @azxulaa @hrlzy @ghosttwit @inejghafawife @booksobsess @formulakay @1655-1485 @chonkybonky @peachiicherries @toalltheboyswhowastedmytime @lilacsimps @diaa-20 @love4lando @imsorare @lunnnix @ctrlyomomma

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[chimivx]

ghosting ↠ txt

now playing ↠ pulling teeth • green day

He left you with letters. Envelopes that took you five years to finally read, acknowledge. They take you back through your past, forcing you to make moves not only for yourself, but for your family, for your children… His children.

part five of six ~ masterlist

word count ↠ 6036 warnings ↠ (same for all parts) 18+. mentions of drugs, alcohol, smoking. swearing. explicit sexual content. these people have kids, there’s family talk, pregnancy talk. absent dad, messy family ties. stepsib shit, stepcest. infidelity. if any of these things bother you, please keep scrolling . if i missed anything PLEASE let me know!! a/n ↠ if you are new to this story, don't start here! please go to the masterlist! major thank you to everyone who's read this story. cannot believe it's almost done... <3 xo posted ↠ 6/17/24 ~ 2:50 pm est.

~ february 2024 ~

Sitting on the plush carpet of your mothers living room, a beautiful bouncing baby boy sat between your outstretched legs. Munching on his fingers with a grin on his face, he watched his big brothers as they spun around to the rock music playing from Taehyun’s brand new record player on the glass table in the center of the room.

Across from you, laying on his stomach on the floor with his chin in his hands was Minho, smiling at his cousins trying to dance to the unsteady beat of Nirvana. The kid was almost a month away from turning ten, and though you just saw him a little over a month ago at Christmas right here in this very house, he had seemed to mature so much. He and his father, who sat beside the coffee table to your left, had both got haircuts, and the color of Taehyun’s was back to normal. 

Since Christmas the two of you have been talking more, texting more, letting the kids video call with one another, and things were going really well. The patching up of that relationship, the closure you both gave one another that was ten years overdue was needed, and it had helped immensely. Now you could carry on with a friendship, and be friends, something the two of you struggled with outside of one another.

Amongst the phone calls and messages there was a day spent together without kids, without Soobin, just you and Taehyun. You went for lunch, somewhere quiet in Sicuro knowing damn well you’d be too uncomfortable to go any further or into any other town. Soobin didn’t want you too far either, and you couldn’t blame him. You’d prefer it if he was always within a few miles radius of you anyways.

Over lunch, where the two of you spent hours, you shared conversation like you had over Christmas, dipping into details of life that either of you had shut out, or had been too intoxicated to piece together correctly. Your teenage life was mapped out before you, the two of you with blushing cheeks trying to work out your shared trauma.

The further you delved into the timeline the more you could tell Taehyun was trying his absolute best to stay present. His sober eyes, awake and alert, his chest taking in deep breaths to the slow count of four… Something you knew all too well. With a reassuring nudge of your foot against his underneath the table, he’d smiled, knowing that you were with him, that you were there for him. He wasn’t alone, and you vouched from then on that he never would be.

You’ve healed enough to not hold his past against him, knowing that you yourself were not a perfect person.

He apologized for the summer night at the club years back, appearing teary eyed as he fought the words out of him, every other sentence broken, his eyes finding it near impossible to look into yours. But, he did. He reached for your hand, held it gently, and apologized. And you cried, because he remembered it all. Every detail. Every feeling. He had never told another soul, he had kept it all inside, not even talking about it with the friend you once shared.

The one who turned into the next topic of conversation on hour three of you sitting in the booth in the back of the restaurant.

Things had gone quiet, after the apology was shared and Taehyun had spoken his peace, neither of you knew what to say. 

At Christmas, the letters were given to you, by Taehyun himself. Envelopes you didn’t have the guts to open, but your husband did.

You had told Taehyun very little of what you felt, what you experienced. So you laid everything out there, filling in the blanks for him, telling him how it all went down, how it happened, how you wound up with your beautiful boys who were the light of your life, but beginning to worry you with their behavior. 

And though tears slipped down your cheek while you spoke of your history with him, with Beomgyu, you knew you were where you were meant to be, and you admitted that to Taehyun, the once questionable fate you had succumbed yourself to, and he too agreed, Soobin was where you were meant to be. Something he’s mentioned to you before.

Pieces of past Christmas were funny, some parts making you question whether or not your certainty was correct. It’d been brought up multiple times, from two different mouths, and then, in the end, the bomb had been dropped.

The twins belonged to Beomgyu, he was their father. In your timeline, in your math, he was their father. You never had to question it, you never had to double check, you were certain. However, those many years ago there had been two of them, both boys, and they overlapped before the nights turned into one. You had no reason to question until Christmas, when your twins seemed to take to Taehyun a lot quicker than you and Soobin had anticipated. Even though the boys looked like you, looked like Beomgyu… Taehyun and Beomgyu both had the eyes, the wide, beautiful, galaxy filled, warm brown eyes. And, so did your twins.

After your mother assumed she knew who really fathered the twins, when up until that day she had seemed to believe you when you told her it was Soobin, you knew you needed a definite answer, one on paper. If not for your own confirmation, but for her. To tell her you didn’t have Taehyun’s children while he was married to another woman with two kids of their own. To not give her the satisfaction of being right, like she always wanted to be.

The kids weren’t his, and though you never spoke to her about it after, the need to prove your mother wrong persisted.

It sucked admitting it to Taehyun. It was entirely humiliating to ask him to do what you needed him to do, but he obliged. Quietly, barely uttering any other sound, he understood, and he assured you that you had no reason to be ashamed. Even he was sure that the boys weren’t his, though his thoughts were somewhat swayed over the holiday weekend because of his step-mother.

That evening after spending an incredulous amount of time out with him, he accompanied you back home where he spent a few more hours with you, Soobin and the kids, Mina sitting on his lap while he filled out some paperwork and swabbed the inside of his cheek. His kids were with Sana, the two still sorting out custody and dealing with judges and court dates.

Within the single evening he spent with your family, Soobin’s opinion of Taehyun had changed entirely, and by the end of it all he even walked him out to his car, leaving him with information and details on how to handle his situation, details you couldn’t even begin to understand. Details you wondered if you’d ever have to deal with…

Sitting here on the floor of the house you grew up in, with your kids giggling up a storm, and a piece of paper folded up in your back pocket, those same thoughts still lived in your mind. Custody, judges, court. A month later and he was still living it. Sana was relentless, she’d never give up.

Especially since over lunch that day Taehyun had told you that she’d found out about you. All of you. The time you shared. All of it, and that she had known for a long time, before divorce was even an option. Aside from the love affair you shared for half of your life, he very blatantly had cheated on her and had been content getting away with it until he grew the balls to file. It went without saying that Sana was pretty content with him getting away with it as well, as long as Taehyun kept bringing home the paychecks.

Now that they were divorced, and she was only getting a still decently sized cut for child support, she had the ability to keep the kids away from him, possibly for a very long time since she knows he’s currently fighting to stay sober. Another reason tacked onto the never ending reasons to despise Sana list.

Leaning backward, toppling onto your thighs, Wonwoo smiled up at you and cooed, his tiny hands reaching upward. Folding in half, covering him completely, you smother his cheeks with kisses and giggle along with him, the sound echoing through the room over the music. One of the twins whipped around, Chan, and dropped to his knees between your legs, one of his joints landing straight on top of your own.

Your gasp of pain, which was really just a reaction to the collision, and the way you gripped your knee over your jeans made Chan freeze for only a moment. Placing a hand over yours he scooted closer to you.

“Sorry, Mama,” he said, studying your expression, searching for the right answer. It was an accident, truly. He knew this, you knew this. Over the last few months however, these accidents have been more frequent. Keeping track of them all, keeping in mind that he was only a five year old boy, the moments of outbursts, tantrums, and accidents like this- happening to more than just you- have been too many to count.

His brown eyes, wide, waiting for you to say something, they made you gulp. Pulling Wonwoo into your arms, situating him over your left side, you nodded at your son and took his hand into your own. “It’s okay, it was an accident, right?”

“Right,” Chan said, his gaze traveling to his brother on your hip chewing on his fingers. “Can Wonwoo play?” He bounced on his knees, brushing his hair out of his eyes. It was too long, he needed it cut, both twins did. The usually straight, thick dark locks were nearing their shoulders, edging the base of their neck. The longer their hair got, and the older they grew, the more it seemed to wave at the ends. Covering their ears, bangs teasing their lashes… You didn’t have the heart to cut it off.

You hadn’t seen him in years, and yet here he was, sitting in front of you.

“Wonwoo can’t play right now,” you said, tucking some of Chan's hair behind his ear, smiling as he shied under your touch. 

Scooching closer to you he sat on your other thigh, cradling his chin in his hands as he watched his little brother. “Why?” 

“Because he’s getting sleepy, it’s almost time for him to go to bed.” From your left you could feel Taehyun’s eyes on you.

Chan stared at the baby. His gaze unresponsive for all of two seconds. “But he can play at home?”

You gave him a smile, placing a hand gently on his back. “He can play at home, you do big kid things here, he isn’t a big kid yet. At home Daddy and Mama can watch you with him, but there’s so much going on here.” Your five year old thought to himself, still eyeing Wonwoo content on your side, not an ounce of eye contact made before he spoke again.

“But, why?”

“Hey, Chan,” Taehyun’s clear, deep voice called over to your son, his little head lifting to look over at his uncle sitting criss-cross on the carpet. “C’mere.” He waved a hand toward himself, Chan leaping off of your leg with a shout, running toward him.

Groaning, you started, “Tae, hold out your-”

But, your warning was cut short with another shout, a high pitched shriek startling Wonwoo. Chan jumped onto Taehyun, and, maybe it was dad reflexes, but he caught him. Pulling him into his chest, holding him tight, rocking him back and forth as they laughed, your step-brother shot you a look over the little one's shoulder.

“Hey, I want to play!” With folded arms Sunoo watched his brother and uncle. The smallest pout was forming on his lips. Taehyun smiled at him and waved another hand, shifting Chan over to one side, catching Sunoo with his other side as the child launched himself at him. Between laughing fits, you caught Taehyun’s eye once more, the two of you sharing a smile.

“Minnie?” Taehyun questioned, glancing at his son who watched him as well, entertained by the children attempting to tackle his father to the ground. “Wanna take your cousins upstairs?” 

Minho leapt to his feet and sighed, but not with discontent, with preparation for what he was signing himself up for. Taehyun nodded toward him, then with both hands grabbed the collars of the twins' shirts and peeled them off of him. The boys, finding it funnier than anything else in the world, tossed out their little hands trying to either hit Taehyun or grab onto him.

“Minho wants to show you guys something,” he said, dodging flying hands. 

“Boys, we don’t hit,” you spoke up, moving onto your knees, keeping Wonwoo on your hip. Neither twin spared you a moment. “Boys!”

“Go upstairs with him, he has something fun-” 

Chan made contact with Taehyun's cheek, his palm no bigger than half the surface he’d hit. It wasn’t hard, he didn’t hurt him, but he still hit him. Sunoo was the only one to react to the sound, until their father set foot in the room, their little sister propped on his hip.

“Choi Chan!” The sound of Soobin’s raised voice spun them both right around. Taehyun dropped his hands and pulled them into his lap, sending a look your way. Your eyes apologized to him, for the smack and for what was about to happen. These moments of parenting, of reprimanding, of learning, they were becoming a wildcard, so much so that even Soobin was having a hard time figuring out how to deal with them. 

A shit eating grin lived on Chan’s face as he gazed up at his father, one incredibly jarring the first time it made an appearance. Gripping the denim of his jeans, Chan bounced his knees and let out the quietest laugh. Sunoo beside him, the complete opposite.

It would be one thing if both twins were the same, if they both acted the same, and though sometimes they do, in moments like these their ways were completely different, making the parenting, the learning, so much harder.

“I don’t think anyone here found that funny,” Soobin said, his voice returning to a normal volume. Taehyun reached over to the record player, turning the volume down. The movement caught Chan’s attention. “Look at me, please.”

Sunoo was a rock, his brown eyes glued to his father. Chan however, watched Taehyun sit back in his place, and then he bounced on his toes and tried to walk back over to him. Reaching in front of you, you were able to grab onto his wrist and maneuver him back, keeping him where he needed to be. The five year old looked at you, whined, then turned back to Soobin. On his hip in a fuzzy blue footed onesie, Mina pointed at Taehyun and smiled, flashing her gappy little teeth. Her uncle pointed back to her and grinned, subsequently making Chan try to turn again.

“Chan, we don’t hit.” Soobin hadn’t moved an inch.

Your son wriggled his wrist out of your hold. “It was a accident,” he said, looking at you, then Soobin. “A accident.”

“I know you were playing,” Soobin said. “But, I saw you trying to hit Uncle Tae, and then you did.”

Chan clenched his hands into fists and stomped a foot on the ground. Covering one of Wonwoo’s ears you pressed his other against your chest, holding his head there. Even Sunoo knew what was coming after the stamp, he covered his own ears.

“ACCIDENT!” Chan screamed, covering his eyes with his hands, the tears following soon after.

Trying to take one of his hands again, he swatted you away and fell onto his knees. Sighing, Soobin put Mina on her feet and she toddled over to Taehyun, falling into his lap. Your girl wrapped both hands around one of his fingers.

“Soobin, he’s very tired,” you said to your husband quietly as he approached the fallen twin, brushing a hand gently over the hair of Sunoo still standing, hands clamped to his ears. “We’ve been here all day, no nap. That makes it worse.”

Looking at you he crouched down, laying a hand over Chan’s back. He knew what little sleep did to the boys, how it affected their behavior, they were kids. When kids were tired, exhausted even, they tended to misbehave, or throw tantrums such as this one. Chan was different. This type of tantrum happened no matter how tired he was.

Making choices as a parent was possibly the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do in life thus far. Each decision impacted your kids and had an effect on their future and the people they’d grow up to be. With Chan folded over on the floor sobbing into his hands, you weren’t sure whether to let him cry or try to get him to stand back up. Half of you wanted to pick him up and tell him it was okay, just to keep him from feeling upset, but then the other was telling you that there were consequences to his actions and he needed to learn from them.

You know, so he didn’t grow up to be someone who punched holes into walls.

Even then, with how differently his brain worked from other children, how exactly were you supposed to do that?

“Chan, when you’re ready to talk to us we’re right here.” Soobin leveled his eyes on his son, tracing a reassuring circle over his back. At a loss, feeling your own tears seconds away from spilling, you trained your gaze on your husband and took a deep breath. 

His calm, gentle giant-ness was how. He was how you’d make it through, he was how you’ve made it through the last six years. He’d be able to get you through many more.

Behind the twins Minho had snuck over to Taehyun, sitting beside his father and Mina, keeping the two year old occupied. Taehyun bounced her on his knee as she traced Minho’s features with a single finger, her cousin leaning into her with pouted lips. The little girl had such an attention to details even at her small age. You were certain she’d grow up to be as smart as her father.

“Everything okay in here? Where’d my granddaughter go?” Your mothers voice was heard before she was spotted. Soobin, closing his eyes, took a short breath, and you and Taehyun seemed to do the same. Your step-brother held in his laugh, catching a glimpse of Soobin’s dismay.

Turning into the living room with her husband close behind, Joy, dressed in a strapless black jumpsuit that bunched at her ankles, leaving room for her strappy black heels to be tied there, looked over the scene on her floor, then tossed her hands out at her side.

“We’re good, Mom,” you said, grilling her from where you sat. Her tendency to get involved with parenting your children happened more often than the tantrums from the boys. She never had the chance to do it with Taehyun’s kids, so you took the brunt of it all. Another reason to be jealous of Sana.

Jin placed a hand to Joys shoulder and smiled at you, the man knowing how his wife would act. “Let them do their thing.” Joy gasped and whipped around to tap him on the chest of his blue polo.

“Mom,” you sighed, finding that Sunoo was watching them, seeing his grandmother hit his grandfather right after the start of a no-hitting lecture. Joy whirled back around with wide eyes.

“What!” Her laugh made both Taehyun and Minho cringe.

“Just… please, don’t,” you said. Seeming to catch on after scanning the room, Joy pressed her glossy lips together and cocked her chin back. Her eyes landed on the twins, scoped over Soobin’s back, took Taehyun in for a few seconds before she glared at you. For a second her lips parted and your heart sunk through the million dollar floor. “Don’t,” you spat, quickly.

“I’m bringing out the cake,” she muttered, then spun on her toes and led Jin into the kitchen.

At the mention of dessert, Chan poked his head up, his crying having ceased a few moments ago. Sunoo removed his hands from his ears and tilted his head to check on his brother, crouching down like Soobin was. The boy would always try to mirror him.

Subsequently, they both spoke to Chan at once, saying, “Feel better?”

Soobin withheld a smile, but glanced at you before taking his hands around the boy's torso, tugging him onto his lap. Chan curled up, slinging an arm around Soobin’s waist.

“Are you ready to talk?” Soobin asked. Hesitating, it took Chan a few seconds to answer with a head nod. “Can you say the word, please?”

Chan took a breath. “Yes,” he said, voice wobbly.

“It’s okay to be upset,” Soobin kept his focus down, his full attention on his son, no matter how many other people sat in this room. “You’re feeling some really big emotions and I know they’re hard for you to understand right now. Is that right?”

“Yes,” Chan whispered. His eyes found his twin.

“Are you able to tell me what you’re feeling? Can you name your feeling?”

Sunoo said, “Sadness.”

“Sunoo, let Chan answer, okay?” You popped in momentarily, giving the boy a small smile. “That was a really good answer, but let’s hear what your brother wants to name it.”

Soobin didn’t look away from the boy in his arms, not until Chan mumbled, “Anger.”

“Thank you,” Soobin said, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “You’re feeling red, and like you want to yell?” Chan answered with a nod that Soobin allowed. “What happened to make you feel that way?”

Your son hesitated again, this time shrugging his shoulders, mumbling, “I dunno.” Waiting for anything else to come out, Soobin shut his eyes after Chan said, “Because of Daddy.”

“Because I told you not to hit?”

Another nod.

Soobin took a deep breath. “What do you think Daddy felt when he saw you hit Uncle Taehyun? When you know you aren’t supposed to be doing that?” Chan hid his face, muttering something only for Soobin to hear. “Sadness and Anger? Blue and red? How come?” Inaudible mumbles came from your boy. “Right, it’s not okay to hit somebody, and it makes Mama and Daddy upset when you do.” Unburying his face, Chan sat up and rubbed his eyes.

Sunoo put a hand on one of his brother's knees. “I felt Sadness.”

“When I hit?” Chan asked him, and Sunoo bobbed his head. “I am sorry.”

Soobin nudged the boys back. “Go tell who you need to tell.”

Rising to his feet, sniffly as ever, Chan took his time approaching Taehyun’s side, putting a hand gently to his shoulder. Eyes darting around like mad, your son pushed out a quick, “I am sorry I hit you,” and then took two steps backward.

Taehyun, new to the whole idea of how you parent your children, gave Chan a small smile and bowed his head. Chan put his hands over his chest and tilted his head.

“Uncle Taehyun, you say that it’s okay,” Sunoo said, standing to his feet.

Soobin took Sunoo by the hand and shook his head. “Sometimes it doesn’t work that way,” he started, and both twins eyed him curiously, this being the first they’ve heard of the concept. “Sometimes… When we hurt people it affects them, and even though sometimes we say sorry, it doesn’t take away from the fact that we’ve hurt them. Some people will accept your apology, and some people won’t.”

“What if somebody hurts you and they don’t say sorry?” Sunoo asked.

Taehyun met your glance, the power within it blazing hot.

Soobin thought to himself, carefully reading the room, analyzing every energy, old and new. “Then, you have to learn to forgive them yourself, and move on, to heal. Otherwise, you’re stuck with a wound,” he scrunched his nose, “an ouchie, that can hold you back from great things.”

Chan faced Taehyun, his uncle ripping his eyes away from you to look up at him. “Do you accept my… Apology?” The five year old sounded out the word, bobbing his head as he did.

Taehyun seemed to study him, your boy with fluffy hair and sappy eyes. He was about to smile, you could see it ghosting his lips, but he waited, his mouth slightly pulling downward as your boy waited with a patience unknown to his begetter. 

He could see him. 

“I… I do.” Taehyun’s voice was so low it was almost a whisper. “I accept your apology.” He finally smiled, shifting his eyes to you before looking down at Mina gazing up at him.

“She thinks you are pretty,” Sunoo said, getting a laugh out of you, your step-brother and his son. Mina had a habit of staring at things, whether they be right in front of her, on a screen, if she found them enticing.

Soobin let out a harsh, breathy laugh, then stood up with, “No thank you, Sunoo.”

Darting his eyes to Soobin, Taehyun wore a cautious smile, one that grew into fruition, spreading across his cheeks as your husband smiled back, in understanding, a sight you’d never thought you’d live to see.

“Come on,” Soobin held his arms open for Mina who wobbled to her feet and rushed into his fathers hold. The twins stood on alert, eyes full of respect for their father. Once Mina was situated on a hip, her hands grabbing onto Soobin’s t-shirt, he bounced her once and said, “Let’s go sing Happy Birthday to Uncle Tae.”

About an hour after the kids climbed onto Taehyun somehow, scream-sang their birthday song to him, blew out his birthday candles, you found yourself standing around the kitchen island with Soobin and Taehyun. Wonwoo sat on the edge of the counter in front of Soobin, your husband's hands holding his waist while the little one kicked his legs and learned to hold his balance on his own. The other four took off to the second floor, most likely messing with whatever they could find in yours and Taehyun’s old bedrooms.

Jin and Joy were up there with them now, your mother with Mina attached to her hip thankfully, you and Soobin both knowing your two year old would not be left unsupervised with any of the boys. As much as they were airheaded parents, they sure were wonderful grandparents, ever since Rose was born. Even before she was born. Even now that she’s missing her own fathers birthday celebration with his side of the family, cooped up with Sana somewhere down in Avida. They loved her. They loved them all.

Squishing leftover icing on a small ceramic plate on the counter you all stood around, you eyed Taehyun and his full-of-life grin while he spoke with Soobin about Minho and the stuff he’s currently dealing with in school, how fourth grade seemed to be much harder now than it was when the three of you were in elementary school. His eyes sparkled, his eyebrows moved with a calculated ferocity. He was present. He was here, in the room with you, fully.

“Can’t believe you’re thirty-three,” you said once their conversation died down. Taehyun blew a raspberry on his lips and Wonwoo’s head whipped toward him.

“You’re not far behind.” Raising a brow he shot you a look before poking your son's cheek, getting a smile from the little one. 

Smiling at him, you said, “No, I’m not, but at least I’m the last one to get there.” Soobin huffed a laugh, shaking his head. He hit thirty-three first, back in December.

Taehyun gripped the edge of the counter with two hands and cocked his chin backward, in thought, like he was struck with the same realization you were. By the first of April you’d be thirty-three, a while away from the beginning of February, Taehyun’s actual birthday happening last weekend. There was someone meant to fall between you two. The thirteenth of March, the date he’d reach thirty-three, joining Taehyun, leaving you behind.

Soobin’s voice broke through the comfortable silence. “Taehyun, when was the last time you spoke to him?” It was gentle, the question asked in the softest way possible, Soobin’s volume staying within the three feet of space you shared.

Air was knocked from your lungs at the sudden inquiry, not that Soobin never spoke of it before. The two of you planned to ask him, but you weren’t prepared for it to come from your husband's mouth. With one of Wonwoo’s hands wrapped around his finger, Soobin looked at Taehyun with a confidence, one that he’s worn in his eyes since the day he asked you to marry him. One you used to wonder if it was fueled by anything other than pure love.

Taehyun took a long, deep breath, his eyes dancing all over the kitchen. They landed on you for only a second, your own begging him to tell you, to speak to you, to speak to Soobin. It was common for him to shove everything into a box at this point, swallow the pain away, act as if it didn’t have any effect over him. 

But, that was the old Taehyun.

He gulped, sinking into himself for a moment, somehow talking himself out of the hole he was ready to burrow under.

“On my birthday.”

You didn’t mean for your sigh to be as heavy as it was, but it made him close his eyes. “That’s last week.”

He nodded, opening his eyes a bit to stare at the marble under his fingers. “Yeah, he… He called me. But, before then I hadn’t really spoken to him since before Christmas.” He hesitated before adding, “Was nice to hear his voice.”

Clenching your fingers into fists, you brought your bottom lip between your teeth and bit down hard. Across the counter from you Soobin gave you a look so intense it had the power to calm you down without saying a word. With a tiny nod toward your step-brother, Soobin encouraged you to ask him what you needed to ask, tell him what you needed to know. 

“Tae,” you started, voice the smallest it’s ever been. He couldn’t look at you, but he tried. “We… we tried calling him. After you came over that night. Well, it took two days for me to grow the balls to do it.” Soobin nodded along as you spoke, eyebrows pulled to the center of his forehead, feeling everything you were feeling. “We don’t know if he has a new number, or if he was just… busy, because…”

Soobin tilted his head, stretching his free hand across the marble, barely reaching you. Intaking a shaky breath, finding Taehyun's full attention over you, you whispered, “Because I haven’t spoken to him in five years.”

“I know,” Taehyun’s voice was as loud as yours, a whisper, a secret to keep.

“We had a night, after processing a lot,” you nodded with Soobin, the two of you remembering the two days after your outing with your step-brother and how hard it was reliving everything. “And, we decided-”

“You decided,” Soobin cut in for only a moment, always telling you that it would be your choice whether or not to move forward with anything. He’d never let you forget that.

“I decided,” you looked back at Taehyun, “That I… Maybe felt ready to just… contact him and see what happened. Catch up for a second. Check in.”

Whatever emotion struck him across the face was unreadable. “He’s not… No, he can’t. You can’t.” Silence fell. Nobody moved, not even Wonwoo.

Years ago you’d have shouted at him to tell you more, to keep going, to not bottle everything up and keep it to himself. It was the most exhausting way to live, to have nothing but half assed explanations and lazy reasons as to why things were the way that they were. It was his coping mechanism, you’ve learned. He despised confrontation, he’d do anything to avoid being completely honest, because everything hurt him as much as it hurt you.

Now, two grown adults who were no longer sloppy children, you didn’t want to shout. You didn’t want to fight. You also didn’t want to push him away, knowing that if you ever did you’d be putting him back in that horrible place he fought so hard to get out of. So, you waited, for as long as he needed.

And, after a few minutes, Taehyun said, “He doesn’t use his phone, but he has the same number. It’s with Jungkook, all of his stuff is. Up in Soro, he still lives there with Chaeyoung and Tzuyu.”

“Jungkook does,” you clarified, and he nodded. 

“You don’t know anything that’s happened, do you?” His question struck your heart. A sharp, twisting pain you haven’t felt since your twins were born.

Reaching a hand into your back pocket you slid the piece of paper out and unfolded it with shaking hands. Laying it flat on the marble you pointed to a 0% beside the words probable paternity. Taehyun swallowed hard, touching the edge of the paper, sliding it closer to him.

“I know one thing that’s happened,” you said. “And so do you.” He gave you a look, your stomach twisting in knots at the teal-green emotion within his eyes your kids would be able to name. “Thought this would be a nice birthday present.” He attempted to wipe the look off his face, but he was unsuccessful. “Now we know for sure, and if Joy has some shit to say we have proof.”

Soobin didn’t bother to clock your bad word. Not right now.

“Taehyun,” you whispered, eyes darting back and forth between his beautiful brown gaze. “Where is he?”

10/7/2023

…I don’t know why it’s so scary when the scariest part of my life so far has been becoming your dad. Knowing that I was struggling, knowing that I was so unhappy, it was what I had to do. She needed to go back, I know that. There wasn’t anything left for her here, nothing I could give her so she could live her best life. That’s why I admire him so much. Soobin. That’s a good man. That’s the man you need to grow up to be. To step up when a loser rolls over and runs away. To love someone unconditionally. To protect the person you love. It’s something I could never do, I just brought harm. I brought pain, and even when I had the chance to do something about it… I ran away. I don’t want to blame my brain for it, I really don’t, always hated doing that ‘cause it’s not an excuse, but… It’s my life. I know what I’m like, even though I'm not always there. My brother always told me I was really good at being self-aware and suffering because of it. So here I am. Suffering because of it. I’m not saying any of this for pity, because trust me it feels wrong to be writing any of this down. Self-aware. I’m saying this so you know the truth. So you know who I am, who your dad was. In case anything happens, in case I don’t ever get to meet you. I love you both, and I love your mom. I love her so much. Listen to her, listen to Soobin. Take after him, take after the good men in your life. Grow up strong, and smart, and kind hearted. Love your friends, love your family, love yourselves. Do good things, be good. I want nothing more than for you to have the most wonderful life…

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thank you so much for reading. <3

[gryphonlover]

It’s “appreciate yourself” hours! Pick five pieces of writing that you’ve done that you love and talk about them! ❤️❤️❤️

Oh boy, I was not expecting this when I opened my inbox. 😅 At this point, I've got 25 works tagged under Linked Universe (including the translations), which feels like a lot. But I think 5 works makes a decent sampler.

Light a Candle is definitely one of my favorites. It was actually supposed to be a gift fic for you, but I was too shy to tag it as a gift fic at the time, so I just posted it and hoped you saw it. It's also a very sentimental piece for me because it's based off of a personal experience I had, and I wanted to capture that beautiful moment of friendship and brotherhood in writing.

The Doll of Resurrection was my first mature fic. I was very nervous at first, because I hadn't written or posted something like that before, but I think it came out very well, and now I've got a companion piece in the works. I don't know what else to say about this except that I plan to keep writing death scenes that emphasize gentleness and loving kindness.

Dead Weight is part 6 of Emotional Support Loftwing, and probably my favorite of the series thus far, simply because I think I did the best on it in comparison to the others. I've been pretty pleased with the response in the comments because there were a few things I did on purpose there, and they noticed, which means I was successful.

Troubled Waters was very self-indulgent. I just wanted to write something where I could drown Hyrule, so I did. Personally, I feel like it's one of my more unique pieces because I haven't seen many angsty fics set in Wind's era. I was also able to avoid the topic of cremation, which I'm quite proud of given the existence of Hyrule's blood curse thing he's got going on.

It's Fine, Don't Worry About It, is my main ongoing project at the moment. It's not actually finished yet, but it's one of the fics I've enjoyed working on the most so far. Around July, I started feeling a lot happier and more confident with my writing, and I like to think that it shows in this piece. Especially since I've been trying to convey a lot of complex emotions and hint at some of my headcanons through different characters' POVs.

[peasantofproendos]

Tw syscourse

(Also I'm half asleep and also Waiting On Judgement so uh yeah having a fun time all around lol)

So, my history with the system community proves that, yeah, anti endos can be changed as long as you're open with ones that aren't like openly attacking people, but do not go out trying to convert anti endos if it puts you in danger. Especially if it puts you in danger.

Yes it's possible, but you run the risk of harm.

Anyways.

I intiallys figured out my systemhood in 2020/2021 which was a time where anti-endos were more aggressive towards endos merely existing (though we're getting back to the point), justanothersyscourse and several big syscoursers known today to be pro-endo/endo neutral/syscourse enraged were anti endo, and both communties were a lot more focused (or it seemed) on syscourse than building out a community. Maybe that's because I discovered my systemhood after browsing the syscourse tag. IDK. However, I watched endos use really ableist arguments first and, without doing much research, decided to side with the anti endos.

I was miserable for these 6 months. As someone else has noted, anti endo spaces tend to be a lot of trauma olypmics, so being in there for that while a pandemic really raged AND while I was in the Protectors of the Plot Continumn AND while I realized that, as an enby, I wasn't safe in my home, was, to be frank, hell.

I left all system communities and started denying my systemhood when I started Leadership class.

This was also a mistake, obviously.

I rediscovered systemhood intially in October 2022 and joined yet another anti endo server in December and got yelled at for having certain foods I physically could not stand, so I avoided really talking in that server.

Around December, I rediscovered Lab Rats, a childhood TV show that I only watched, like, four or five episodes, throug a 4 hour video essay on the topic. Naturally, being on Tumblr, I searched up Lab Rats and found a thriving community, with several people posting about this decade-old TV Show.

I fell directly into the fandom.

Luckily, I had Disney+ through my father, so I finally sat down and watched 3 seasons of LR while communicating with this fandom and speaking with people I really looked up to. I became mutuals with several of them.

Then a small bit of drama popped up between someone who would later call another LR tumblr the f-slur and a system called the Fruit Basket System. Fruit was the first pro-endo I interacted with ever, and it was through some LR drama. I intially sided with the other person because they were my mutual + I saw Fruit was pro-endo and, y'know, I was still an anti at this time. I still interacted with Fruit minorly, but I mainly ignored them.

Until an LR server was made by someone. I forgot who. But most of the LR tumblrs joined this server so I did as well. I was out of the PPC for a couple months at this point. I needed something to do. Fruit, naturally, was there and requested PK, which I was thankful for (even though I wasn't planning on revealing my systemhood. I believe I nuked my system profile through PK before joining the server). And Fruit and I ended up talking more, usually about LR.

I was starting to see pro-endos were actually Fine, which was an improvement from seeing them as my sworn enemy. Still anti though.

And then March 30th an alter who had LITTLE idea what the fuck was going on fronted and we ended up resetting up PK with him, my protector, and me. Naturally, since Fruit helped me out with system things, I became pro-endo. It's kind of hard to hate endos and pro-endos when one helped you in an extremely stressful system related situation.

After becoming pro-endo, I felt much more at ease in plural spaces. I had people who accepred me because I was a system, not because I had trauma to become a system, if that makes sense. I enjoyed hanging around plurals and felt less agitated. I stopped hating people for being different. And that was perfect.

It's one of the first things I ask systems when they tell me they are one: "are you pro-endo?" I'm scared of being attacked for being traumagenic and pro-endo from a friend. So far, that hasn't happened. But I'm much less scared now than I was in anti-endo communities.

So yeah. Sorry about that ramble.

[aurorafables]

From the Grey, Chapter 2.

First of all, thank you for the likes and reblogging 😊 you just made my day when I saw any activity on my post. The story will be more than 20 chapters, so it's time for the second part. Enjoy! 😉

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Nicholas Ruffilo

Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Angst, Past character death, Suicidal thoughts

Tags: M/M, Slow burn, Childhood friends, Friends to lovers, Family drama, Band fic

Word Count: 3.7k

Cross-posted: AO3

2.

All four of us hated interviews, and no matter how much we tried to take some of the burden off Noah's shoulders, as the main lyricist and music writer, as well as the lead singer of the band, most of the time it fell to him to answer the questions. Over the years, he got better at it, and he took the hurdles more easily from interview to interview. He could dissolve in a few minutes, and if asked about the process of creation, he could talk for hours.

We were in one of our label's offices between two concerts. Noah was called from a magazine, and they were talking on video call, and I, out of the picture, stretched out in the mustard yellow faux leather armchair with my cell phone. I was only half paying attention to the conversation, but sometimes I got lost in Noah's soothing voice while I was replying to my girlfriend's messages. When the possible connection between his lyrics and his experiences came up, I looked at him a little worried. I could only half see his face from behind his laptop screen, but I waited with bated breath for an answer. Noah thought for a moment, then revealed as much as he could, but gave as vague an answer as possible. “ … I'm trying to find the limit so that everyone can relate to what they’re going through, at least for the most part. And I also think it’s kind of corny sometimes to be like too specific and… it takes out the fun of it, the whole thing loses its effect and its poetry. In addition, I don't like to express my life and personal experiences too much through the lyrics. I want them to talk about my music, not me.” I was damn proud of him, and I think it was written on my face, because he glanced over at me and gave me a thumbs up under the table where only I could see. I was afraid that he would be put in an uncomfortable situation, that things he didn't want to talk about would be taken out of him, but he solved it professionally and then steered the conversation to slightly lighter topics. I remembered the moment when he was afraid and pushed the little notebook in front of me that hid the pieces of his soul.

We were both at the tattoo parlor trying to pass the time until closing time. Noah had finished a nice bathroom cleaning that I had done when I was a newbie, and was sitting on the corner sofa, holding a notebook that I've seen him carry a lot lately. I looked up from my sketch and watched him bite his lip as he wrote something down. Then he drew out a line, brushed a strand of hair that hung in his face behind his ear, and resumed writing. It was always good to spend time together, even if we were just sitting in the same room and lost in our own things. The silence was also pleasant with him. I really realized this when Noah spent the night with someone else a few days earlier. I had a hard time falling asleep, and even when I did, I woke up an hour later. It was five in the morning when I checked my phone for the umpteenth time and put it back on the windowsill in frustration because he hadn't texted me. I mentally forbade myself to ask him if he was okay, but it cost me to wake up the next morning as a zombie and go to work. It wasn't until the next night - as I listened to Noah breathe softly on the mattress - that I realized that I was missing it. The sound of his breathing. I glanced at the clock—we still had at least twenty minutes—then closed the sketchbook, stretched out, and sat down next to Noah on the couch. The corner of his mouth turned up as he realized I was there, but otherwise he didn't bother, continued to write, only looking up again when he seemed to have reached the end. Whatever he was doing. I didn't know him as someone who writes a diary, so my first guess would have been song lyrics. But I didn't really have to grope in the dark for long, because he opened his notebook and handed it to me. I raised my eyebrows questioningly, but took it from him without a word. I detected a slight nervousness in his dark brown eyes, and he added to it when he started biting his lower lip. I knew it was a big deal that was happening and I just felt I was the first to read into his notebook. Noah pulled up one leg, rested his chin on his knee, and looked at me as I began to read between the transcribed, drawn out lines.

"I see through you I know what you are I've seen the Devil more than I've seen God And when he has you by your neck I hope you choke on every fucking word you said" "You've dug your grave and you have no one but yourself to blame I see the world in black and white Because true color always fades under the right lights"*

“Wow,” I said with a big sigh, and staring in front of me, I tried to process what the lines were saying. I guessed who it might be about, it wasn't hard to figure out who he was so angry with, because these words almost oozed hatred. Then when I got over it, I could finally appreciate it all. "Noah, that's pretty good," I looked at him, and I can only hope that he saw in my eyes how sincerely I said this. Because in my opinion there was no trace of bias, only admiration. “Why don't you show it to your band?” Noah snorted and took the notebook back. “I'm not even seventeen, Nick. Why would they listen to me? Why would they want anything to do with a kid's lyrics?” “Because it's fucking good?” I asked back in disbelief. “No,” he shook his head and threw the notebook and pen into his bag. “It wouldn't make any sense if someone else sang it.” I watched as he quickly packed up and sullenly sank into the soft couch with folded arms. Oh…he never mentioned that. “Do you want to sing, doe?” I asked him with a smile. Noah rolled his eyes at the nickname I had given him a few years ago when he suddenly grew and was all legs and arms. “Why would I want to, when it looks like we'll soon get our first record deal as guitarists?” “Because you are young, full of dreams,” I whispered to him while I leaned my head on his shoulder. “You can be anything else. Just imagine… the audience standing at your feet and singing along with you word for word the songs you wrote.” Noah didn't answer right away, I'm sure he was toying with the idea of ​​what it would be like if… "Nick, you are crazy," he finally said, laughing in confusion. “I'm just fucking tired,” I defended myself, during a yawn. “But I still mean what I said.” I pulled away from him, and Noah just shook his head in disbelief. In the four years we've known each other, I've noticed that he reacts strangely when I tell him he can do something big. It hurts to think that the reason for this could be that in his childhood he was constantly trying to destroy him to such an extent that he simply cannot deal with encouragement. It's like he expects me to laugh at him after that and tell him to forget it, he'll never be able to do that. And yes, it still hurt a little that he assumed that about me, but I understood it was unfortunately coded into his DNA. Words and their amazing power… However, there is something more here: his desire to prove himself, his determination and perseverance. “I hate so much that I can't put these in her face anymore,” he spoke after a while, almost muttering. It's like he's tired of all this a long time ago. Our eyes met and without a word I slid closer to hug him. "I know… I know," I whispered into his hair, then kissed his head. His dreams trumped everything, which makes me very proud of him. He started to build his life nicely, and before our first album was completely finished, our song Glass Houses also received the last touches and expansions on the text, just to make it all round:

"You said I'd never make it You said I'd make a mistake But now I'm right where I belong and you've got nothing to say"*

Noah founded a new band that was all his own, he started singing, and the audience is already singing along. And his mother has been rotting in a cemetery ever since, but perhaps not so deep that if thousands of people were shouting at the same time, she wouldn't hear the message intended for her.

We stepped out of the air-conditioned office into the Californian heat and the hustle and bustle of the street. I put on my sunglasses and waited for Noah to find his before we hit the road. People went to lunch, and at that time they poured out of the offices, and although we didn't fit in with the figures in suits and costumes, we still tried to remain invisible. Jolly and Folio were waiting for us at a Mexican restaurant just a few blocks from the Sumerian Records office. We stopped at a red light, and as the asphalt almost steamed from the heat, I regretted not tying my hair before we left the office. I ran my hands under my thick curls and lifted my hair a little. Noah looked at me and smiled. "There are advantages to having short hair, you know," he remarked, and I just stuck out my tongue. “Maybe some people can do whatever he want with his hairstyle, but I think my magic lies in my hair,” I answered him. “I can't believe that. When I met you, your hair was still short, and even then…” he began, but the light turned green, so we set off in the rushing crowd. “What then?” I asked him when we got through. Noah glanced at me from behind his glasses and shrugged. “Even then, you were you.” I furrowed my brows at his answer, but did not pursue the matter further. We were approaching a Starbucks, and I had already guessed that we would have a stop there. I was right, because Noah touched my arm and motioned with his head towards the entrance. I followed him, and I didn't mind that there were a few ahead of us, because at least we could cool down in there. "I'm getting the key to Steven's lake cottage next week," Noah said unexpectedly, while I squinted at the list of iced drinks on the wall behind the counter. Then I turned to him and waited for him to continue. “If you think so, of course, only if you want to… it would be great if you could join me.” Noah had pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head, I could see his eyes full of hope. I don't even remember the last time we went somewhere without the boys. "The thing is…" Noah continued while I was lost in my thoughts, "I miss you. Since I've been living in California with the others, we don't hang out much outside of the band.” He spoke my thoughts out loud in their entirety. We had another concert on Saturday this week, then two weeks of rest, which I would have liked to have spent with him, but then something came up to my mind. “I promised to come to Maya's mom's birthday party next week.” Storm clouds appeared on Noah's face. As fast as being doused with a bucket of ice water. He's always had a hard time with rejection…and besides, he's never waited to find out if it really was rejection. “Then…” “I have to be at the party organized by my girlfriend. But that doesn't mean I have to stay with them for the second week,” I told him with a small smile as I ran my palm over his forearm. “So yes, you can count on me, along with a dozen mosquitos.” Noah finally smiled genuinely, flashing his white teeth as his eyes narrowed and his small laugh lines deepened. I was instantly euphoric, but the thought that I would still have done anything to see him happy was terrifying. It was soon our turn to order, but for some reason I got really stuck studying his face. I watched him speak — I couldn't even remember what I ordered in the end — and I thought to myself what a strange coincidence that Maya is Asian. Until now, I didn't even pay much attention to this, but then our tour in Japan a few years ago popped into my mind.

Noah was lounging in a towel in front of the bathroom mirror, drying his hair. I sat on the bed in his hotel room and waited for him to finish, because we had to go to the rehearsal. I fumbled with my phone when I found a picture from the day before with both of us tagged. When we went sightseeing, some fans came up to us and we took a picture with them. Back then, it was still rare to be recognized on the street. I grinned and got up to go to the bathroom to show the picture to Noah as he had been in a weird mood all day and I expected it to cheer him up a bit. I raised my cell phone in front of his face. Noah stopped brushing his hair and put the hairbrush on the counter, then took the phone from me. He looked at the photo with critical eyes, then looked into the mirror, where our eyes met. He returned the mobile and said nothing. He turned on the hotel's hair dryer and began the operation with complete resignation, and I stood beside him, confused. “Is something wrong?” I asked in the loud noise. “What did you say?” he asked back after turning off the hair dryer. I sighed and leaned against the counter. "I thought you'd like it here," I admitted. ”It's a big adventure that we got this far with the band, and besides, hey, we're in Japan!” I spread my arms in confusion. Noah looked at me silently, his eyes shining darkly, then finally just shook his head. “Should I get more excited because we are in the birthplace of Manga and Anime?” he asked cynically. I wanted so badly to understand… I wanted to know what was going through his mind. I wasn't satisfied with that answer. "Your roots lead back here," I said quietly. Noah snorted and ran the brush over his hair again. “I have no roots. I'm just going with the flow.” “Do you mean you hate Japan?” “Why should I love it? Nothing binds me here except my mother's devil plan to not rest until she gives birth to a half-breed child.” I've heard this story before, and since then I haven't been able to understand what kind of person is, who is able to wade through all emotions and reason for the sake of a fixation. “This place… it just confirms to me that I don't fit in completely here either.” I remembered the bullying he received at school for being different from the others, which must have contributed to his dropping out of education at the age of fifteen. The blue bruise on his cheekbone and how he wouldn't even admit to me that one of his idiot classmates had laid a hand on him. Things got a little better when he started hanging out with us, the graduates who were three years older, but after graduation I couldn't protect him anymore. Freak, bastard, mix, little girl because of his long hair, fag… and these are just the adjectives he told me, who knows what words were thrown at his head. I have already received some of these, but it hurt much more to know that Noah had to face this every day. I looked up at him, because he was already half a head taller than me, and I only spoke when he was finally paying attention to me. “I don't know how much my opinion matters, but I think your mother's only good decision is that you exist.” I turned away and left him alone in the bath. Let his rage some more if he felt he needed to, but first I wanted to let him know how important he was to me. The next day, when we were in Nara, the city of deers, Noah finally smiled after a week. Indeed, his whole face brightened and he fed the animals as happily as a small child. As he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip and tried to hold back a burst of laughter as he idly watched me being torn apart by some naughty deers for a few morsels of food, I realized that digging into things the day before had been worth it.

Noah was a step ahead of me, checking on his phone if we were going in the right direction, and I was behind him sipping my shake, which turned out to be chocolate flavored after the first taste. My gaze drifted to his broad shoulders, then to his tattooed biceps, which tensed slightly as he gestured with his iced coffee towards a street where we had to turn. I would have bet that none of his old classmates would have dared to bully him again. The others were already sitting at the table when we arrived. Jolly noted that he was already starting to starve, which didn't seem like much of a problem since the appetizer was already on the table. Noah immediately threw himself on some roasted, spicy peppers while I browsed the drink menu. “How was the interview?” asked Folio, his cold beer in hand. I glanced up at them from behind the little notebook. “The usual," Noah shrugged, then licked his finger. “Don't worry, it wasn't mentioned that you fell on your ass on the way down the stairs at the last concert,” he added with an evil grin, for which our drummer punched him on the shoulder in return. We all started laughing. I remembered walking off the stage two days ago, exhausted, Folio coming after me, and then after a big thump - which I could hear clearly even through the loud shouting of the audience - I looked back and thought he was gone, but then I saw him sitting on the metal steps. Fortunately, he was not harmed. “I thought I would rest a bit,” Folio defended himself. “Some people hold only one microphone the whole time, and I am the one who trains hard on stage for an hour and a half. You should try it sometime, Noah.” “I'm still perfect the way I’m,” Noah looked at me and we smiled at each other. “You don't want to hear my drumming skill,” he added horrified. "Personally, I don't want to hear Folio sing," I interjected, and the others laughed and nodded in agreement. “Great, then everything will remain as it was,” concluded Jolly. The waiter came out and took our order. Noah asked for half the menu because he wanted to try everything, so I only ordered a burrito. I felt that I would have leftovers from his order.

“And what are your plans for the break?” Folio asked. "I'm meeting Maya," I answered. “I am going home to the family in Sweden,” said Jolly. “I have to record some vocals, then I will rest,” Noah answered. “With Karin?” Folio asked back. The mood at the table suddenly became frosty. Noah snorted but didn't say anything, just poked at the napkin. I felt that somehow I had to save him from this unpleasant situation. "That wouldn't be about rest," I said, the first thing that came to mind. It seemed like a good idea to play it off with a joke, but when Noah turned his head toward me, he looked at me like he couldn't believe I just said that. I already regretted speaking. "I'll be right back, guys," Noah said, still staring at me like I'd grown a second head. He headed for the bathrooms and I was so damn tempted to follow him and find out what was wrong, but I couldn't. I didn't want to run after him in front of our friends like I was his puppy, so I sighed and put my hands on my knees as if I could hold my legs back from the walk. "It would be good to neglect this Karin subject, Folio," said Jolly, then turned to me. “Don't feel bad about it. We didn't know we couldn't even joke with him.” I actually felt bad because I didn't know… I had no idea what was going on between Noah and the girl, so I didn't even think about hurting my best friend. Noah acted like I didn't exist that day. He quickly finished his lunch and said he had work to do and had to go. I stayed there with the boys and a pile of food. The tension eased a bit for our weekend concert, but it was still fucked up.

Suddenly, I found myself on the plane home, still not sure what happened at the restaurant. I've regretted a thousand times that I didn't go and find out what was wrong. I could only hope that we would be able to discuss it next week, and that was only one of the reasons why I couldn't wait to fly back to him in California.

*Bad Omens - Glass Houses

[sreidisms]

Let Me Ease Your Worries

Spencer Reid × Midsize!Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer finds it hard to understand when you need reassurance. When you tackle the topic, he wants to show you just how much he loves your body (smut with plot).

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Word Count: 5.7K

Warnings: negative self talk, body dysmorphia (may be sensitive for people with ED experiences), swearing, kissing, nudity, oral sex (f!receiving), intimate touching (Spencer and reader touch each other's genitalia briefly), unprotected penetrative sex, creampie.

A/N: This is the first smut fic I've posted in literal years, so be patient as I edited this super quickly 🙏 there's no real sub/dom dynamic although there are moments where Spencer is on the subbier side. Although this is listed as midsize!reader, plusize!readers are also welcome, I just thought certain descriptions wouldn't fit the exact experience of a plus-size person.

Spencer was the smartest person you had ever met. IQ of 187 with 3 PHDs and 2 BAs under his arm deemed him an academic weapon. He was an expert when it came to statistics and basically everything else that piqued the genius’ interest. Literature and texts were no match for him as he whizzed through them at lightning speed, each glyph sticking to his brain in a lifelong bond.

With all his knowledge, it wouldn’t be unrealistic to assume there was nothing Doctor Spencer Reid could not achieve - except being able to comprehend the fact you needed constant reassurance, that is.

You had been dating the boy wonder for two years and it was safe to say you had never felt happier or luckier. He was sweet and caring, yet timid; but that didn’t stop him from worshipping the ground you walked on. Spencer thought he was subtle about it, but he clung to you like a lost puppy - he was hopelessly in love.

Thus, it was near impossible for the young man to think that there was ever a doubt in your mind that you weren’t the most beautiful girl to him.

Self-confidence was never your forte. Your childhood and teenage years were spent focusing on school rather than boyfriends and first kisses. Not that you wouldn’t have liked to. The opportunity just never revealed itself before Spencer - and you blamed that on your body. A soft, friendly face had no effect when paired with your round stomach and filled-in hips and thighs.

Spencer hadn’t actually realised you were insecure about yourself, because why would you be? All he saw was a natural beauty and happiness gleaming off of you.

So when the time came where your insecurities got the best of you, your boyfriend wasn’t the exact blueprint of awareness. Ever the oblivious boy, he couldn’t figure out why there were days when you went quiet or didn’t reciprocate his affection as much. Being a profiler at the BAU should have made him better at this, you thought.

That was until you had a particularly harsh day after work. With long shifts at the bookshop and days spent apart from Spencer because of his job, you were mentally exhausted. At 5.30pm, you shoved the key into your front door and sighed, happy at last to be home. A tired Spencer clad in red checkered pyjama pants and a Caltech t-shirt was sprawled on the sofa. He had messaged you a few hours before that the case had closed and he was returning home for the rest of the weekend.

He flashed you his signature toothy grin and got up from his comfortable place amongst the cushions and blanket, padding across the wooden floor in his cute purple and red socks.

“Hi,” he spoke softly as he leaned down to give you peck on your cheek. “I missed you.”

You smiled and nodded, reaching for his hand and rubbing your thumb across his knuckles. “Missed you too.”

Despite knowing each other for five years, you were both still shy in the other’s presence. You had had the occasional make out session and even managed to share a few nights tangled amidst the sheets after mustering up the courage. Nonetheless, you acted as if you had only been dating for a month.

After kicking off your shoes and throwing your bag on the floor, you plopped on the sofa in your usual corner, resting your head on the back.

Spencer remained by the front door, standing awkwardly and playing with the fingertips of his right hand. He looked utterly adorable with his pyjama bottoms loose at his hips and his t-shirt sliding off a shoulder - but his eyes hid something flickering behind them.

The sound of him clearing his throat resonated around the room and you looked upwards. Spencer opened his mouth to say something and then quickly shut it.

“What’s wrong? You’re gaping like a fish.”

You giggled and he smiled in return, letting out a light-hearted sigh.

“Is something up? You … you didn’t kiss me like you usually do when I’ve been away on a case.”

And he was right. It was like a routine to jump into his arms and cover him with kisses every time you were apart. But today you couldn’t shake the heavy feeling looming over you: that you were less than he deserved, both in actions and looks.

You didn’t want to display your worries so openly, so you beckoned him to come over with a stretch of your arm and a weak smile, holding his face between your palms once he neared. You craned your neck and placed a soft kiss on his cracked lips.

“I’m sorry, Spence - nothing’s up, just tired.”

Spencer quirked his head to the side as he looked down at you, the profiling cogs in his brain turning to read the expression on your sullen face.

“On average, women tell three lies to their partners and co-workers daily - and I can tell you’re lying.”

You rolled your eyes, avoiding his gaze to escape the intimidating and unblinking look he sported when trying to guess what was going on in your head.

“You’re annoying when you’re smart, do you know that?”

He knew you were teasing him and he chuckled, shaking his head before sitting down next to you. He hovered his hand over your thigh before setting it back down in his lap; outright displays of affection were still a guessing game for Spencer, never knowing if you wanted his touch or not, or if it was the right course of action.

“It comes in handy when I know you’re worried about something. You gave a vague answer, you avoided eye contact, and you scratched your neck before answering. All of those factors, especially self-grooming and self-soothing behaviours, are signs that one is lying.”

Although often a blessing, Spencer’s intellect was a curse when you tried to hide your anxieties.

“Just a bad self-image day, darling.”

Only confusion spread across your boyfriend’s face.

“What do you mean? You’ve never mentioned this before.”

“Because I didn’t need to before. I just …” You paused. “Not feeling very good about myself. About how I look.”

It should’ve been easy for him to understand what you were getting at, but he looked completely lost.

“I don’t follow.”

You shifted to better look at him and crossed your legs underneath you, Spencer mirroring your position. Somehow, you had to explain what insecurity felt and looked like to this supposed all-knower of things.

“Sometimes Spence, I don’t feel very confident in how I look. In how I am perceived.”

Spencer looked at his hands for a few moments before looking up and saying, “61% of adults express negative thoughts regarding their physique, but I wouldn’t think you’d showcase that. Did something trigger this?”

You shrugged, wrapping your arms around your torso in an attempt to shield your body from his strong stare.

“I feel like maybe … I don’t deserve you, like I should look better for you, be prettier.”

Spencer’s mouth fell slightly agape, the first time he had been rendered speechless all evening. His eyes seemed empty, searching for the next thing to say to an answer he never expected leaving your mouth.

“What do you mean prettier? You’re my girlfriend, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he said this with a slight tremble in his voice which indicated disbelief.

“You just say that because you have to.”

If he was puzzled before, now he was completely dumbfounded.

“I don’t understand where you’re going with this. No one forced me to say that.” He went silent for a second. “Covering one’s body with their arms is an attempt at shielding oneself, thus indicating fear and insecurity.”

Spencer wasn’t sure if he gave you a reason to feel insecure about yourself. Sure, he wasn’t the best person at expressing his love through words and physical affections, but to him it was undeniable that he adored you.

“Why do you feel insecure about yourself? Did I say something or imply that I don’t want you?”

The opportunity to speak up about the deep-rooted hatred you had for your physique had never surfaced until now. It was a situation you weren’t too keen on taking, even though you wished he’d asked about it earlier.

“No, no at all, you didn’t say anything! You’re nothing but kind to me.”

Spencer raised his eyebrows, urging you to continue.

“I feel like my body shape isn’t ideal and one day you’re going to realise that and leave me.”

You didn’t mean for it to come out all at once: a breath, a tumble of words, two years’ worth of worries and unsaid thoughts out in a matter of four seconds.

A tense silence blanketed the room, the small distance between you feeling larger than ever. It was difficult to decipher the expression on the boy’s face: his eyebrows furrowed deeply as he often did when he couldn’t grasp something and his mouth shaped itself into a sad pout. Spencer stuttered before speaking.

“I don’t understand. What do you mean I’d leave you? I- I- “

“Spencer, I’m fat.”

That was it, that’s what you had been implying all this time, what you ached to confess. His eyebrows went back into place, straight as a line.

“Actually, when it comes to measuring one’s weight in accordance to their height, you’re at a healthy weight. Although the BMI scale was used as a way to calculate this in the past, it has been deemed inaccurate because-”

“Spencer, stop! I don’t care about facts, I feel ugly and I’m scared you’re going to realise that!”

You huffed, the strand of hair which had fallen across your face flying out of the way. You rubbed your hands across the expanse of your thighs, squeezing your knees. Spencer’s erratic hand movements and scientific explanation were halted.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout,” you said more calmly.

It was clear he didn’t know what to say. You had never interrupted him mid-rant, you always reassured him you were more than happy to listen. He made a scratching sound at the back of his throat, shifting his eyes down before meeting yours again, his cheeks now flushed in embarrassment.

“I think you’re beautiful. I always have.”

The comment hit a sore point in yourself. Beautiful. A word only your boyfriend had ever told you; and well, your parents, but that was a different scenario. It felt foreign, like you were taking something that didn’t belong to you.

“Spence, please, you don’t have to say that-”

“I mean it. I truly mean it.” You could tell he was being honest because of his gentle voice and wide eyes. “I don’t lie about these things. I look at you and I see someone I love, and that someone happens to be beautiful in my eyes. Nothing about you could push me away, I’d be crazy to do so. You’re stuck with me forever.” He smiled softly, trying to ease the tension in the air.

His words were sweet, but not sweet enough to dissolve your doubts.

“But you work with women who are so much prettier than I am.” You paused and said the next part quieter. “Thinner than I am.”

“Yeah, I know that. And?” That wasn’t the response that would exactly help.

“And! And, Spence! Thinner is prettier.”

“Actually, aesthetics are subjective-” You glared at him before he could continue his next statistical lesson.

He nodded, playing with his fingertips again - a habit he had developed in order to collect his thoughts.

“The first time I saw you, I thought you were prettier than anyone else I had ever met. I liked how your clothes hugged you, the way your shirts and sweaters settled around your torso. I liked that pants and skirts looked a certain way on you, because your hips and thighs made them stretch out. I still hold those views.”

He lifted his head to utter the last part.

“If what you’re implying is that because you don’t have a flat stomach - the current beauty norm - I’m going to find you unattractive, then I’m going to have to ask you to re-evaluate your method of deduction, because I prefer your body over anyone else’s.”

That’s all you wanted to hear. “Thank you, sometimes I forget.”

Spencer took a few seconds to ponder before asking, “I’ve never told you that, have I? Like, out loud.”

You shook your head meekly, smiling at him to show that you weren’t angry. “No, not really.”

Now he understood. He had never expected that you needed to be told what he thought about you to know that he was crazy about your body, about you in general. Or that it needed to be repeated, or else you’d forget.

“Can you tell me when you’re feeling this way? I didn’t know you had these thoughts, you never told me. I assumed you just … knew that I found you attractive, always.”

Communication. This was new, but a step into the right direction.

“I’m sorry for never being open about it - I will from now on.”

The brunet placed his hand over yours, which had been resting on your knee for a while now.

“I really love you, I’m sorry I don’t say it a lot. I find the weight you’re at to be really appealing, although you don’t need my approval - weight has no correlation to the strength or amount of love one is capable of receiving.”

It was impossible not to kiss him: this perfect man sat in front of you in his home attire, messy strands and waves of hair surrounding his face, uttering the kindest words which were specifically directed towards you.

You grabbed his face between your hands once more and pressed a kinder, more loving kiss to his lips. Spencer further smooshed his face against yours, playing with the frayed ends of his pyjama bottoms to ground himself - that fluttery sensation in his chest when you kissed never went away after all this time together.

Once pulling back, you rested your forehead against his, blindly searching for his hands to take them into yours. You stayed like so for a while until your boyfriend whispered, “Can I try to show you how pretty I find you?”

You straightened your back in surprise. “Show me how?”

A faint blush tinted his cheeks as he traced the bumps of your knuckles with his forefinger. “I’m never the one to initiate this, but … I’d really like to be intimate with you. I-In bed.” His stuttering was nothing short of cute. Spencer wouldn’t be Spencer without being formal when it came to your sexual life.

“You want to have sex with me, is what you’re trying to say?” You couldn’t help but blush as well, at the fact the prettiest boy you had ever laid eyes on wanted to be intimate with you; touch your body and make you feel good.

“Y-Yes, that’s what I mean. Precisely.”

“That’s the first time you ever proposed that yourself, y’know?” you teased, knocking your fist into his shoulder lightly. He chuckled and shrugged. “I try my best.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, shifting yourself onto your knees. “You can show me. Right here.”

And that was the go-ahead he needed.

He surged towards your lips, covering them in a clumsy but loving kiss, while he held your face in his large hands. A whimper escaped your mouth at the sudden movement, letting Spencer lay his weight on top of you after pushing your legs forward by pressing his fingers on the bend of your knees. Your thighs encapsulated him, a feeling which he never admitted to enjoying so much - until now.

“I really like …” He kissed you. “The way …” Another kiss. “Your thighs feel around me.” Kiss, kiss, kiss.

Your thighs tensed around his waist, tightening the grip around his body in response. Your hands moved from behind his neck to his back, rubbing them up and down in a soothing manner.

You could already feel Spencer softly rutting into you, his body flush against yours as he ground his half-hard cock into your inner thigh. You had never seen him so eager, always hesitant and embarrassed to make the first move, or take the lead.

But this was different. Although nervous, he wanted to show you how much you meant to him, how beautiful he thought you were, how your body drove him insane.

Spencer started kissing down your neck, finding the way to the sensitive spot between your neck and jaw. “I r-really like kissing you, because your skin is so warm,” he whispered near your ear. You whined, gripping his t-shirt in your fists as your hips cant forward.

You wanted to say so much, needed to. However, you were caught in the feeling of the brunet’s lips moving downwards, carefully pushing the buttons of your shirt through the slots as his open-mouthed kisses trailed across the top of your bra.

He finished unbuttoning your blouse and knelt down between your legs, cautiously placing his large palms over your clad breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze. You could tell he was mindlessly ogling them, focusing on the way the flesh moulded into his touch, and this made your face heat up.

“I don’t t-think I need to explain how much I like your um …” He cleared his throat. “Y-Your chest.” He flicked his eyes upwards to meet yours, smiling bashfully - you bit your lip and nodded. Spencer took it as a sign to take off your bra, reaching his hands behind your back to unclasp it. The garment billowed and he quickly pulled it away before discarding it onto the floor.

His pupils dilated when he glanced at your breasts, all bare in front of him, only for him to see. You felt exposed and went to cover yourself with your arms before he grasped your wrists. “You’re beautiful, you don’t need to cover yourself.” His expression radiated warmth and comfort. I have to trust him, you told yourself. With hesitation, you set your arms aside and Spencer’s hands were instantly on your chest again, his fingertips digging into the supple flesh and leaving red dotted marks behind.

You squirmed underneath his touch as you felt so seen, so exposed. It was still hard to focus on the moment and let the boy you love so dearly show his attraction to you. It was always such a challenge to do so, but now more than ever because the little confidence you had had a minute ago slipped away from your grasp when he started to undress you.

You clenched your fists by your sides, looking anywhere but at Spencer as the anxiety bubbled at your sternum. Suddenly, your face was moved and you were looking at your boyfriend again, his palms warm against your already-blazing cheeks.

“Do you need to stop?” You shook your head, unable to speak.

Spencer bit his bottom lip in thought. “I know I don’t express it well, b-but I really am attracted to you. There’s no doubt in my mind that you’re beautiful. We’ve done this before, h-haven’t we?”

You nod.

“Then trust me when I say I want to see all of you. I just want to …” He swallowed deeply. “Want to be close to you.”

In reality, you were both nervous and you knew that Spencer was probably just as self-conscious about his own body as you are about yours. With a deep sigh through your nose, you nod once more to tell him to continue.

His lips were back on yours and his hands moved down to grip your hips, squeezing the fatty tissue; you felt so undeniably soft, between his fingers and against his stomach.

You pawed at his t-shirt, signalling him to take it off. He clumsily pulled back and attempted to remove it in typical Spencer Reid fashion: his head got stuck and his right arm bent in the most uncomfortable manner. You snorted underneath your breath and helped him out by pulling the bottom of the shirt over his head.

“Are you that eager?” you teased, slowly easing into the atmosphere and finding comfort.

“I’ve literally been trying to tell you that,” he exclaimed with a huff and pulled your body down from your thighs, scooting himself down until his face is hovering over your stomach.

“Spencer, what are you-”

“Please, I just want to taste you”, he said with doe eyes, his fingers already on the button of your jeans.

You shifted your hips a little, now extremely aware of yourself and how your tummy looked from Spencer’s angle where he was situated between your thighs.

“I’m not sure, my stomach looks odd-”

“I’ve dreamt about having your stomach pressed against my forehead as I eat you out for the entire week I’ve been away, please just trust me.”

Your face heated up.

“Fucking vulgar, I thought you were a sweet boy.”

His face flushed in embarrassment at realising what just left his mouth. “Can we stop focusing on what I said and just let me get on with it?” You giggled and agreed with his statement.

In a few seconds, your jeans were slipped off your legs and Spencer’s nose was buried in your panties, nuzzling the faint wet spot in the middle of the fabric. Your breath hitched at the sensation as you tried to mentally convince yourself to enjoy the moment.

His index and middle fingers hooked around the edge of your underwear and moved it to the side, finally revealing your glistening pussy. He sighed and his eyes fluttered shut once his tongue met your slit for the first time in ages, dragging the muscle along your sex.

Your thighs shuddered around his head and you tried your best not to let out a sound. This was soon deemed useless once Spencer flattened his tongue against your clit, gently spreading your lips with his index fingers.

“Oh shit.”

Your brain already felt like mush - your hyper-sensitivity was something you were ashamed of, but it deeply pleased your boyfriend.

He hummed in approval of your comment, pushing his nose against your clit to slip his tongue into your entrance, basically tongue-fucking you at a slow pace. It contrasted the usual way he hastily lapped at your pussy and made a mess of the entire thing, getting drunk on your taste. This time, however, he was really trying to show you how much he worshiped your body, despite his shy demeanour.

It eventually got impossible to stifle your sounds, even if a hand was clamped over your mouth. Soft breaths and gentle moans floated around the room, while you subconsciously moved yourself against his face.

In order to get a better hold of you, Spencer hiked your legs over his shoulders after removing your panties and placed his hands on the smooth expanse of your tummy, tenderly kneading it. What you could only describe as butterflies, although cliché, erupted inside of you. You wanted to move his hands away, tell yourself that part of you was disgusting and unworthy of admiration, but the pleasure Spencer was giving you and the love radiating off of him stopped your worries.

He continued to suck on the raw skin and flick his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves, every so often pushing his entire face into you and exhaling out of pure hunger. You loved how he always made sure you were enjoying yourself when he went down on you, how he showed no discomfort in having his mouth, nose, and chin buried between your legs and getting drenched in your arousal. And you knew how much messes rubbed him the wrong way, but he surely seemed to be relishing in making a mess of you.

You hadn’t noticed yet, but Spencer had been rutting his hips into the cushion of the couch for a while. He was aching to be inside you, to have your warm walls tighten around him; but your pleasure came first and foremost, especially since you were so concerned about him not being attracted to you - that was definitely not happening.

He whimpered into your cunt as he grew harder, his poor weeping cock restraining against the fabric of his boxers, his pants, and the surface beneath him.

“Fuck, I’m c-close”, you gasped, sooner than usual.

The comment sent Spencer into overdrive: he alternated between sucking harshly on your clit and spreading his tongue all over your lips and inside of you, just dying to have you cum on his face. One of his hands was still on your stomach, but the other was holding onto your waist tightly. All he wanted was to feel your soft flesh between his fingers, against any part of his body. Even the pudge of your stomach that you tried so desperately to hide drove him mad.

With one last lick to your clit, your orgasm hit you abruptly. Your hands fumbled until they found Spencer’s hair and tugged and pulled, pushing him deeper against your pussy as you soaked his face in arousal. You felt him groan as it vibrated against you, mirroring the way you were gasping for air and moaning out in pleasure. His arms were wrapped tightly around your thighs, using them to ground himself as he suffocated between them.

After a few more laden breaths, you relaxed your legs and loosened your grip on his hair. You peered down to see a blissed out Spencer resting his cheek against your inner thigh, his thumb drawing circles into your hip.

“I’m sorry about that,” you said with a laugh.

He hummed as he pushed himself upwards, subtly moving his crotch to settle against your pelvic bone for more friction.

“I should be saying thank you really.”

You pulled him in for a kiss, a thank you for what a wonderful job he had done. The taste of yourself lingered in your mouth.

Although you attempted to lengthen the kiss, he pulled back and heaved, “now please can I be inside you, I really need it so badly, it hurts.”

There was the usual needy and whiney boy you knew.

“Yes yes, I’m not going to leave you hanging, pretty boy.”

You swiftly pushed his pyjama bottoms down with his boxers and Spencer kicked them off to help. His length was hard against his pelvis, the tip all red and swollen after having nothing but humping the couch to help him get off. Gently, you wrapped a hand around the base and squeezed. That got a whine out of him, his jaw slack and still covered in your slick. You slowly dragged your hand up his shaft, tightening your grip as you neared the head and circled your thumb over his slit that was already spurting pre-cum.

“Please f-fuck, please just let me inside you, I’m already close to coming.”

“Already?” You raised your eyebrows teasingly.

“S-Shut up,” his voice wavered as he struggled to hold himself up, his hands planted on either side of your shoulders.

You let out a chuckle before letting go and resting your palm on his waist to encourage him. Nervously, he lined himself up to your entrance and tried his best not to push in all in one go. In his excitement and neediness, he missed and his cock slid up between your folds, his tip rubbing against your clit. You both exhaled.

“F-Fuck sorry, I just-” Spencer could hardly speak. His knuckles were turning white from the way he was holding the arm of the couch; he was dying to have you engulf him so he could place his hands all over your sweaty skin.

“It’s okay,” you breathed out. “Let me help.”

You reached down and grabbed his cock once again and pushed the head against your pussy. Spencer could already feel the heat emanating from you and it only spurred him on more.

With a little wiggle of his hips, he started to inch himself inside you. The warmth of your cunt gradually surrounded his dick. So warm, so wet is all he could think about.

You took him further by placing your hands on his ass and pushing. Once he was fully sheathed inside you, your boy genius could no longer think straight. All he wanted was to cum and tell you how much he loves the way you make him feel.

Hurting you or causing any pain was the last thing Spencer wanted, so he carefully pulled back until he was almost entirely out and then pushed in again with a quiet squelch.

“G-God, you feel so g-good,” he whined.

Honestly and truly, you hardly heard what he was saying because you were completely focused on how he was stretching you out so deliciously, mouth agape and eyes closed.

It didn’t take long before Spencer started to shallowly thrust into you, your gummy walls fluttering and spasming around his throbbing cock.

In an effort to be closer, Spencer laid on top you, chest to chest, and hid his face in your neck. His hands found a home in your hair, gently massaging your scalp.

Nothing could have felt any better than this: your lovely boyfriend making love to you, his nimble fingers caressing your body into a state of peace and bliss. And for him? Well, his girlfriend’s plush body pressed against his skinny figure was better than anything he could imagine.

You lazily ground into each other, whimpers and hot breaths leaving the both of you. Your hands were splayed across Spencer’s back, desperately keeping him as close as possible.

“I love you, I love you so much,” he whispered.

This man was a dream come to life and he was so sweet while being so.

You swallowed the saliva pooling in your mouth before replying. “I love you too, a lot.”

He peppered kisses across your neck and traced your skin with his lips, leaving a layer of dew behind. In return, you left a few kisses on his shoulder when your head wasn’t tilted back in pleasure.

You were so tight around him and you felt so unbelievably full. Now, you weren’t going to say that Spencer had the biggest dick you could think of, but that wasn’t the point - you fit perfectly with each other and your pussy had basically moulded itself to fit snuggly around his length like a glove. You couldn’t imagine yourself having sex with anyone else, not that you wanted to anyways.

You moved your head to the side and kissed his cheek, moving a hand to rest amidst the mess of hair you loved so dearly. He had just shaved that morning so his stubble wasn’t there to scrape against your lips.

“I r-really love- oh fuck.” Speaking during intercourse wasn’t a skill Spencer had mastered as of yet. The feeling of his approaching orgasm had him reeling and he was mustering all the strength he had left to express how much he enjoyed your body and how it made him feel.

“I love … I love how you feel a-against me. You’re so soft and warm.” He gasped as he teetered on the edge.

“Your s-stomach and thighs and h-hips … God.” He hiccupped. It was hard to talk, his hands holding onto your waist.

“They’re all s-so … so soft. It drives me … insane, it- fuck drives me insane.”

Never had you felt so loved as you did at this very moment: enveloped in the arms of the boy you loved, skin-to-skin, whispering the most heartfelt words into your ear.

You wanted to reply, tell him that his words meant so much to you, but the way his tip was stamping into your sweet spot had stolen the breath out of your entire body. All you could do was gasp and let out moan after moan.

Spencer’s bony hips were smacking into the plush of your ass as he fucked into you deeper, his rhythm faltering as it all just became erratic.

“Gonna come,” Spencer whispered, as if he was asking for permission.

“Y-Yeah, go ahead,” you managed to mumble. And that’s all he needed.

With a high-pitched moan, he spilled into you as his hands moved around, just trying to grab any inch of you that he could, loving the feeling of the fat around your thighs and waist. I love you’s were muttered into your skin while his orgasm kept hitting him in waves. His hips stuttered as rope after rope of cum was milked from his tired cock, your cunt pulsating at the fact you were so close as well.

The brunet finally stopped thrusting after a while, going soft inside of you as his breathing slowed down.

“I love you too by the way,” you said quietly, scared to break the silence.

You could feel his smile on the side of your neck.

“You didn’t come yet,” he murmured before his hand found its way between your bodies, a thumb pressing onto your clit. Your body jolted in surprise.

“You really don’t h-have to, darling.”

“But I want to, want to make you feel good.”

You giggled. “You already have, silly.”

“Yeah, but you deserve more.” What an angel.

At least, you weren’t so far off from climaxing and thus a few tight circles helped you come for the second time that evening.

You laid on top of each other, not wanting to move from such a sweet embrace. Spencer had shuffled a little lower once he pulled out of you, not caring that his cum had started to ooze out of you and smear against his upper thigh, and rested his head on your chest. He couldn’t resist putting his hand on one of your boobs either.

“All that I said … it’s true,” he confessed. “I love you a lot and I think you’re pretty. And I love the parts you hate about yourself.”

You hugged him tighter, not sure how to express the appreciation you had for him. “Thank you, you don’t know how much you mean to me, Spence.”

He left a kiss on your collarbone before saying, “We need to get you cleaned up before you get a UTI. Do you know that up to six out of every ten women in the United States experience one?"

[monstersandmaw]

Male ‘yautja inspired’ alien x gender neutral reader - Part Six (nsfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

___

Note the rating change please. 18 + only.

Content: a bit more lore, some angst, some fluff, and some wet and messy alien sex :) Wordcount: 6027

Catch up here: Part One (sfw), Part Two (sfw), Part Three (sfw), Part Four (sfw, Part Five (sfw)

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The atmosphere in the camp became charged after that in a way it hadn’t been before, and you felt a little nauseous. That probably had less to do with not having eaten in hours, and more to do with the fact that Croc was staring at you as if he’d just had an epiphany of the very worst kind. Perhaps the significance of Red showing you his face went deeper than you’d first thought. Perhaps Croc had never expected him to do it, but whatever the reason, the usually jovial and lighthearted alien was behaving like someone had just walked over his grave.

Red had disappeared inside the ship again, and you couldn’t help feeling like you’d put a foot wrong in the dark somewhere, stumbling and falling and still waiting to hit the ground. It didn’t help that there was a near-constant churning in your gut anyway about the fact that only the next day you were going to have to leave, and you would probably never see either of them again.

After busying yourself with digging out the last sachet of dehydrated macaroni cheese from your pack for supper, you boiled some water on the healthy little campfire, and ate alone while the two remaining squad-mates finished preparing for the arrival of their rescue party in absolute silence. The bickering had ceased, and they stacked the boxes without making a sound. It was eerie and you truly felt like an intruder for the first time since Red had charged at you out of the trees.

With the final day looming over you on the coming dawn, you still wanted to ask them a few more questions about their home worlds and their species, and their hunt across the universe that had led them to Earth, but you weren’t sure how to broach the topic now.

Luckily, as dark fell and they joined you beside the warmth and light of the fire, they began to talk about it without prompting, and the conversation flowed quietly, if not always smoothly, while they ate their own rations.

When you’d all finished eating, Big Red leaned over and removed his mask again, and he held it out to you. In the firelight, Red’s colouring looked all the more dramatic, and his mandibles clicked at you into a shy little smile which you returned as you took the mask from him and let your fingers play absently around the smooth rim where metal met bone. Croc watched the exchange intently, looking from his friend’s face to yours and back again, and for once, Big Red’s behaviour went completely without commentary.

Over the next few hours, they showed you more clips of their capital city on Prime and of the training barracks where they’d met as younglings. You were also shown clips of their third, fallen team-mate and your heart ached for them, wishing you could have met him too.

Carefully, you asked about the kinds of things they normally ate, and even what their music was like, and they showed you a steady stream of information that began to make your head spin after a while.

You also saw what the environments of their birthplaces and the nearby cities were like, ranging from Croc’s wild, jungle home in the treetops, lush as the deepest remaining areas of the Amazon on Earth, to the vast, multi-level mega-city that formed the capital of Secundus, where most of the population of the planet lived in a sprawling metropolis that covered an entire third of the planet’s surface. Only Big Red’s traditionalist clan chose to exist out in the middle of nowhere in the harsh, gritty sands of the far-reaching deserts.

After that, he showed you the various beasts that lived in the dunes and rocky outcrops: lizards the size of elephants that spewed acid like a fire hose when threatened; winged reptiles like pterodactyls that soared on the desert thermals for miles at a time without flapping a wing; tiny, adorable, fluffy creatures that looked like hamsters but had three eyes and long beaks; a horrific, black, eldtrich-looking creature that actually turned out to be an entire colony of smaller insects all intertwined that made you want to be sick just thinking about it; and a terrifying sand worm the size of a London Underground train with a mouth like a tunnel-boring machine, but which was apparently very docile and only ate the flowers of one particular, cactus-like plant.

You could see why Croc had called Big Red’s kind ‘tough’ though. Simply to exist out there, they had to be virtually un-killable to begin with.

“Why do you think Croc has to wear so much armour normally?” Big Red grinned when you said as much. You took the opportunity to remove the mask again for the time being and hold it in your lap to give yourself a break from the relentless stream of images and information. He didn’t ask for it back. He didn’t look directly at you most of the time either, and you wondered how bad his eyesight really was, but you felt his full attention on you nonetheless.

“I just thought you were an exhibitionist, Red” you quipped back, and Croc finally cracked a wide-mawed smile. In fact, you’d only seen Croc with a single pauldron on in addition to the armoured ‘loincloth’ that they both wore, but you weren’t about to argue.

“Oh, there’s lots of stuff that wants to kill us in the jungle too,” Croc assured you with a wicked glint in his eyes, and Red groaned, apparently knowing where this was leading already. “Remember when you stayed with my clan and ate that —” he cut off into a series of clicks for a fruit that apparently didn’t have a direct translation “— and your neck and face swelled up like a weather balloon for a week?”

You didn’t mean to laugh, but it snuck out anyway, and Big Red just shook his head. “Never going to let me forget that, are you?” he muttered. “That was the last time I ever ate something that you gave me without knowing what it was first.”

Croc nearly fell off his crate from laughing as he tried to describe Red’s swollen face to you with his little mandibles poking out of it, so Red kindly helped him along by simply reaching over and shoving him in the centre of his chest.

Croc landed flat on his back in the dirt with his legs in the air, still laughing like a drain, and you felt the odd tension of the day finally pop and shatter. Still miming a head like a beach ball at you and chortling, Croc picked himself up again and resumed his seat.

Red sighed though and turned more serious again as he looked around at the silhouettes of the pine trees against the clear night sky. “Are your people sending soldiers here for us?” he asked. “Do they know we crashed?” Despite the sudden moment of jollity, he was obviously still in the mindset of ‘ship’s captain’; responsible for Croc’s safety and the integrity of his tattered mission, and he must have felt vulnerable, grounded on a strange planet with no real defences.

You shook your head. “Not yet. At least, not that they told me,” you amended, just in case. They were unlikely to send anyone — given the reams of forms you’d signed agreeing to go out alone, unsupported, with no guarantee of rescue and with every chance you might never return. Quite what the fuck you’d been thinking at the time was still a marvel to you, but it was a gamble that had paid off against all odds. They must have been rubbing their hands together with glee when an untrained linguist had signed away a comfortable life in the archives to go bushwhacking for them in search of aliens, but you weren’t ashamed to admit that the financial rewards had definitely been the deciding factor at the time.

Although Big Red relaxed a fraction, you still suspected that the two of them would continue to keep watch in shifts that night.

“They sent me first because I’m not exactly a threat to you, and they wanted to learn about you. So far, your kind has only shot when shot at first, so…” They both picked up the subtext that sending in someone non-threatening had been the plan all along, and they nodded. “You’ve managed to learn so much about us when we still know next to nothing about you. They’ll probably send a team here once I get back to investigate and salvage, but —”

“—there will be nothing to find but a crater,” Croc grinned. “Our commander will obliterate what we cannot take with us.”

Your eyes went wide at that, but it did make sense. “Fair enough. Are they still on course to get here tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Big Red said. “They will arrive around sunset.”

You intended to be well on your way by then, but the thought of leaving these two physically hurt, like something inside you was shearing off. “How many are coming for you?”

“Another team like us,” Red said. “Three. They were on their way to make a study of your southern hemisphere to look for locations that the enemy may be hiding in, but they have been diverted to collect us first.”

Croc said something to Big Red in their language, and you got the feeling they were a bit dejected.

You looked from one to the other of them for a moment. “Are you guys… in trouble?”

Red snorted. “Yes. We shamed ourselves by allowing inferior human weaponry to bring us down. Our commander… she is most displeased.”

She.

You remembered what he’d said about females, and your next question just bubbled out of you. “Red, show me what the females of your species look like?”

Croc crowed out a laugh and elbowed Red in the ribs. He then took Red’s mask from your hands and planted it straight onto your face like it was a custard pie before you could do so much as blink.

“Assho—” you began without sting, but never got to finish the insult.

A second later, the helmet sent a new signal directly to your brain, and it created the illusion of standing at the intersection of an alien building complex, or perhaps a ship, with dark walls, dim white lighting, and a shiny black floor. It took you a couple of seconds to register that you were actually also staring up at a creature that was perhaps nine or ten feet tall.

She looked more like Croc than Red, with the same greenish-brown and cream colouring and spines across her face and around her eyes, but she was… massive. She wore a solid chest plate which seemed to be composed of the same dark metal as the inside of Red’s mask, and the same kind of armoured loincloth that Big Red and Croc both wore, with additional, articulated tassets over her hips and muscular thighs. She had a high, flaring crest that was a bit like a triceratops’ where Croc’s was much smaller, and she also bore an array of wave-like spikes that rippled back over her entire skull almost like flames where Croc’s head was largely smooth save for the dark, needle-like spines. Her shiny, greenish-black ‘dreads’ were each as thick as your forearm and fell to the middle of her back.

Her skin was a mottled cream and olive green, and her mouth stretched wide with scorn as she regarded the camera that had recorded the footage, presumably worn by Big Red at the time. Around her pale throat was wrapped a kind of decorated metal gorget — something between a cuff necklace and a piece of armour — and she had wide, metal bands around her ‘dreads’ in the same, ribbed style as the neck-piece.

“Holy shit,” you breathed, and then Croc himself came into the background of the shot. It was strange to see him with two arms, and he had none of the easy, jocund swagger to which you had grown accustomed over the last couple of days. He was deferential to the female without being obsequious, and he exposed his throat to her before turning to go, presumably at whatever order she had just clicked in his direction. Her voice was deeper than either of theirs, and from what you could see of her arm and thigh muscles around her armour, she was probably strong enough and powerful enough to crush Red’s skull with one hand.

Croc left the shot, but Big Red didn’t seem in a hurry to change what he was showing you, so you sat there and let it play out.

Another male with a mottled brown and cream pattern approached her and her whole demeanour changed.

She went from almost aggressively tense to something soft and doting, and she crooned quietly as the unknown male came to a halt in front of her and bowed his head. She lowered hers to touch the crowns of their sloping skulls together. She then stroked the palm of her massive, clawed hand affectionately down his thick mane of ‘dreads’ and he shivered openly and purred. He raised his face a little and they kissed their mandibles together. You’d witnessed Croc and Red do that briefly, but this had a lingering intimacy that their exchange had not.

“That,” came Red’s voice from somewhere beyond the vision, “Is a mated pair.”

“Oh,” you breathed.

When he’d talked about a bond, you hadn’t thought too much more about it, but it was obvious that there was something tangibly different between these two.

Before you could watch any more, you began to feel a little strange from the way the mask was interacting directly with your brain, and Croc chittered something to his friend. Red crooned, and then removed the mask gently from your face to set it back over his own. “Enough for tonight,” he said quietly.

A moment later, you yawned, and Croc did the same.

Amused by the fact that the vast physical differences between your two species did not apparently extend to yawns being contagious, you both grinned, and you made to stand up. Exhaustion from the strain of a four day hike and the stress of finding their ship crashed and Croc injured, and subsequently learning more about them in two days than any human had discovered in five years, as well as using the mask for so long, all washed over you and you swayed on your feet, the world blurring.

Big Red, still seated beside the fire, caught you reflexively with a firm hand to your lower back and you looked down at him, smiling. He did not remove his hand for a long moment.

“Thanks.”

Croc clicked something at him, and he nodded in acknowledgement before turning to look up at you again. “You may sleep in my quarters again if it is more comfortable than your tent,” he said. “I’ll take first watch, but I will join you later, if I may.”

You blinked. “You’re offering me your room again and then asking if it’s ok to share it? It’s your room, Red.”

“But you may use it, and I do not have to be there.”

“No, I’d… I’d like it if you joined me when your shift on watch is done.”

Croc sighed. “Goodnight,” he said, and then added something a little sterner to Big Red, who exhaled and nodded, but otherwise didn’t reply.

With a frown at the odd, terse interaction, you went to fetch your stuff from your tent.

When you returned, Big Red rose from his little crate and said, “I will help you into the room. If you need to get out, you should be able to pull on the doors, but you might want to leave a box between them to keep them open, just in case.”

You agreed heartily, not wanting to get trapped alone in a small metal box with no way out until one of them came for you.

You stared appreciatively at his body as he hauled the metal door up and let you step through. Once you were inside, he shunted a nearby metal crate into the open maw with his foot to keep the doors from falling shut again. “It is… not too cold for you like this?” he asked.

“I’ll be fine. I can use my sleeping bag like an extra blanket. Thank you, Red. I’ll see you later.”

“I will try not to wake you,” he said, and stalked off into the night without another word.

Hours later, you woke as the blanket and sleeping bag atop you were both lifted up and Red slid in beside you. This time you felt no fear or fleeting panic on waking.

Big Red set his mask down on the floor beside the mattress with a soft clunk and pulled up the covers again. With a deep, satisfied rumble, he slotted into place around your back like you’d been made to fit together, and he pulled you close against his chest in a single tug of his left hand.

His mandibles brushed the crown of your head as he spoke quietly to you in the pitch dark. “Go back to sleep,” he murmured and adjusted the sleeping bag up around your neck to keep the warmth in.

“Why do you need to keep watch?” you asked sleepily. “What are you afraid of? Surely not humans…”

“Humans and animals may present a nuisance,” he said, “But it is the enemy we watch for.”

A frisson of fear shot through you like a bolt of electricity and you jerked your head up. It was only his quick reactions that kept him from getting headbutted in his delicate mandibles. “You mean… They’re out here?”

“They… have a habit of finding us. They enjoy the hunt.” He crooned and purred softly, and the sound of it calmed your heartbeat just a fraction. “But Croc is on watch now,£ he said with another nuzzle against your head, “And we have seen no sign of them since we got here. We will keep you safe. Go back to sleep.”

“Right,” you exhaled weakly, and tried to settle while your imagination insisted on conjuring images of that black carapace slinking between tall pine trees somewhere in the valley below or along the ridge line above the crash site, and you heard again the rabid snarl that had accompanied the footage.

Sleep was reluctant to take you that night, and you lay there a long time with Red’s steady, slightly wheezy breath fanning across your ear and the weight of his arm around your waist.

“You are troubled,” he said after the silence had stretched.

You sighed. “I… I don’t want to go tomorrow, I guess,” you mumbled, and tilted your head down a little to let your lips brush against the hard, smooth skin of his bicep beneath your cheek. He returned the gesture with a delicate touch of his mandibles against your hair. He seemed to like raking the tusks at the end of them across your scalp, though you couldn't imagine that a mouthful of hair was any fun.

His fingers splayed wide across your stomach and he rumbled a long, low-frequency moan behind you.

“Red?”

“Yes?”

“What is it?”

“I… I have grown… attached to you,” he admitted with obvious reluctance.

You smiled and something inside you ached again. “Is that what Croc was warning you about earlier?”

Big Red nodded. “Yes. He is right, but I do not… I do not wish to part with you tomorrow.”

You turned within the confines of his embrace to face him and skimmed your hand up his chest, over his textured throat, and up to his mandibles which were now flexed wide. A little line of drool caught your fingertip and you used it to skate delicately over the thin membrane between his mandibles. He let out another low-frequency rumble that you felt in your chest, and his torso heaved. He rolled completely onto his back and let you explore his face in the dark.

“Are these sensitive?” you asked as you traced your fingertip along his top right mandible, along to the wickedly sharp little tusk at the tip, testing the point with the pad of your finger until it almost broke the skin, and then down the stretching membrane to the lower one that twitched and quivered beneath your touch.

“Yes,” he gasped.

“Very?”

“Very.”

“Mmm, interesting.”

Then, still lying on your left side, facing him, you ran the fingertips of your right hand carefully up between his eyes, over all those fascinating ripples and ridges, around his deep eye sockets, and then over his elongated skull to the ridge that protected the roots of his ‘dreads’. Gingerly, knowing they were sensitive as well, you gathered a small handful of them together in your fingers and then, recalling how the mated pair had interacted, slid your hand down the entire length of the ‘braids’ from root to tip.

Red reacted beautifully.

He arched his back right off the mattress, hissed, let out a long series of rapid-fire clicks that dissolved into a gutteral growl, and then collapsed back down, panting. He gasped your name and fumbled for you with his right hand. His claws caught your thigh and you hummed as he gripped you desperately hard, as if he needed somewhere to anchor himself.

“Show me how to make you feel good, Red,” you breathed. “Show me.”

He paused, and then reached out to his other side with his left hand. A second later, the dim, blueish light of the lantern flared to life and cast his incredible body into stark relief. He shoved back the covers and kicked them off. In the small, warm, sheltered space of his quarters, you didn’t need them. He unclipped the armoured loincloth and lifted his hips enough to discard it, revealing that his body below was ridged like sections of cooling lava all the way down between his legs, with a slight mound which you took to be a sheath of some kind.

“Here,” he said, and took your hand as you sat upright on your left hip to get a better look at him, propping your weight on your left hand. He guided your touch down between his legs and you let your middle finger run around the vertical seam in his body that was growing more noticeable with each heaving breath he took.

You glanced up at his face and saw that his mandibles were opening and closing slowly, drool just beginning to stretch between the tusks as he got more worked up, and his eyes had rolled shut. You knew he could still see you though through his heat-sensing abilities. While still looking at his face, you dragged your right, middle fingertip along the line of the seam and discovered that it was puffy now, and a little slick. “Like that?” you whispered and he gasped and nodded. “You’re beautiful, Red.”

At that, he bucked again, and your finger slid a little way inside the slit. Red gave a muted bellow and you paused. Beneath your finger you felt the silky, hot walls of his inner sheath clench and contract, and then, swelling as he grew more aroused, you discovered his cock. Ridged, hard, and slick, it began to slide from the protection of the sheath, and the more you teased it, the harder and more desperate he got.

In minutes, he was shaking bodily.

His breath wheezed and rasped, the delicate membrane between his mandibles fluttering when he flexed them. His thighs trembled and his claws raked furrows into the mattress that would never be repaired. He bucked and writhed beneath your touch and then, when you pushed deeper into his sheath and ran forefinger and thumb at the same time around the very base of his cock in a teasing, mirrored motion til you gripped him there at the hot, silky root, he let out a rabid litany of growls and snarls and clicking purrs that went straight to your core.

“You’re so beautiful,” you said again and he keened, head thrown back, thin ‘dreads’ spread out in a wide fan around his head. “And so wet…”

With your left hand, you reached for his ‘dreads’ without withdrawing your right from his sheath, and ran your left hand down the closest section of ‘braids’. Again, Red roared and jerked. With the motion, his cock slipped free of his sheath and bounced against his hard abs, leaking everywhere.

Closing your hand around it again, you gripped him and worked his ridged shaft and he whimpered, curling his torso inwards a little as you swirled your thumb underneath the topmost ridge. A spurt of liquid dribbled from his tip, rolling down over your knuckles, and dripped onto his stomach. “You’re so messy, Red,” you breathed, and then another thought occurred to you. Probably a little late, you asked, “Is this… safe? I mean… given what your blood does to humans…”

He nodded. “It’s only… Only our blood that—” he cut off into another growl and series of clicks.

You tightened your grip and he moaned again, one leg kicking out idly. “Watch those claws,” you warned.

“I’m sorry. This is… It’s so… It’s so much,” he cried.

Looking down at the delicate, pinkish flesh of his swollen, slick sheath, you realised that with the kind of talons and claws his kind had, there was little chance anyone had ever done this to him before, and the sheer intimacy of the gesture struck you to the core.

When you used both hands, one to work his shaft and the other to stimulate the soft walls of his sheath, he almost sat upright. His eyes opened wide in the semi-dark and his mouth flared, and you thought he was going to come, but he didn’t. He rocked back and forth a few times, his cock leaking clear fluid everywhere, and then he slumped back down, panting. It was like you were milking him, and he seemed to love it.

Each time you ran your finger around the base of his cock, he let out a beautiful, musical clicking sound. “I wish I knew what you were saying,” you said after a while. “I wish I could understand you.”

Either he didn’t hear or didn’t want you to know, because he didn’t translate. Perhaps he couldn’t.

You’d never seen yourself as particularly talented in bed. You’d had partners before, and none of them had openly complained to your face or anything, but the way Red was responding to you in waves of incoherent ecstasy was more arousing for you than sex with a human had ever been.

“I want you, Red,” you breathed as your brain finally caught up to what your body was feeling, and your own arousal hit you in a colossal wave.

“Close,” Red said, and you eased off on the pressure on his shaft. The mess he was making had covered his lower abdomen until it glistened, and still more leaked from his sheath. He could slide right inside you, you realised, and the thought sent another white bolt of desire right through you.

You let go of him long enough to undress, with Red helping you out of your top and immediately bringing his mandibles to your bare shoulder. He moaned luxuriantly when he scraped the tips of his tusks across your skin, and you gasped when his forked tongue licked out to taste you. He manoeuvred himself behind you while you knelt, and you felt his cock slide between your legs, slick and hard and beautifully ridged.

“Ohhhh, Red,” you groaned, pitching forwards onto your hands and knees. “Oh god that’s good. Yes… Please…”

“Inside?” he asked and you nodded, reaching back to take hold of his cock and guide him. “Carefully.”

His slick, blunt tip nudged against your entrance and you tensed a little, but he shuddered and gripped you with his clawed hands, holding you still while you adjusted to just that much of him. His tip spurted a little inside you and you pushed back against him. God it felt good.

“Please Red, please…”

He slid a little further in, chittering and crooning and clicking in your ear all the while, an when he pressed you gently down to lie on your stomach, you spread your legs to give him complete access to you.

With the new angle, he adjusted your hips a little with his hands, and then sank slowly, decadently, into you, right the way to the hilt.

As one, you both let out a long groan and just stayed there, breathing steadily while you adjusted to the stretch of his gorgeous cock and he to the heat of your body. He bowed his head forwards over you and kissed a short way down your back, circling his forked tongue over your spine and raking his four, tusked mandibles across your skin until you were shivering and begging him to move.

He picked up your hips in his hands and withdrew almost to the tip before rolling deep into you in a steady, careful movement. His ridges felt delicious against your entrance with every slide in and out, and his tip caught you in just the right place at the apex of each thrust. With every stroke he increased the pace just a little, and as he loomed over you, you felt little spots of drool hit your skin and imagined his mandibles flaring wide with pleasure.

This was it. You’d never be able to have sex with a human again. It felt far too good.

When he found a rhythm that had you both grunting and gasping, he changed the angle a little and you lit up all over with a shout and a curse. “There!” you cried, scrabbling for something to hold onto with your hands as pleasure ripped through you. “Oh fuck, Red, there… like that… just like that… oh god… I’m going to come.”

Red’s rhythm stuttered a little at that, but he picked up the pace again and pounded relentlessly into you. He was quite literally holding your hips up off the mattress like you weighed nothing at all.

“Want to feel you come too, Red,” you choked. “Please…?”

“Close,” he grunted, adding a little extra force to each thrust and making stars burst across your vision in the dark. “I’m going to…” he hissed, barely able to speak around the purring and the clicking coming from his throat. “Now,” he said, and his hips drove into you one final time, right to the hilt so that his pelvis was pressed flush against you while his cock pulsed deep inside you.

With a bellow that made your ears ring, he emptied himself into you.

The convulsions that swept through him knocked you over the edge and you came too beneath him, untouched and twitching and gasping as he continued to fill you. His claws dug into your hips and he held you mercilessly in place while he came and came.

With his cock still twitching inside you and his hips still rocking against yours, he leaned forwards and closed his jaws around the back of your neck. He didn’t break the skin, but you felt his teeth dig into you as well while he held you steady beneath him and rode out the final waves of his colossal orgasm.

You’d never been so full, or felt so needed.

Eventually, Red stilled and slumped atop you, careful not to crush you. His cock was still buried inside you and you both lay there, breathing hard in the dark for a long time. Occasionally his mandibles caressed you, but mostly he just lay there, spent and holding you. When you gave a soft mewl of discomfort, he did move, withdrawing slowly and pausing when you winced a little.

The rush of come that spilled out of you when he finally withdrew all the way was the most obscene thing you’d ever experienced. To your surprise, Red trailed his fingers through it, playing with it as he pushed the flat of his thumb against your entrance, apparently fascinated by the sight of his come on your skin.

“Gonna need to clean up,” you mumbled, rolling over and gasping at the slick slide of your thighs over one another. “God, Red, you came so hard.”

You were far too leaden-legged to stagger across the room to your backpack and get out the wipes from the top section, but Red obliged and tenderly cleaned you. The process of touching you everywhere and taking care of you seemed to get him worked up all over again because when you opened your exhausted eyes while you lay on your back and he knelt between your legs, you found that his cock was hard and leaking again, though he seemed content enough to ignore it in favour of your comfort. When you expressed quiet surprise at his stamina, he twitched his mandibles into his shy smile.

“You make me like that,” he said. “I will not… I mean… if you are tired…” he added awkwardly.

“Come on me?” you whispered, and he rumbled a pleased groan.

Still kneeling like a supplicant, he took his cock in his hand and worked himself slowly to start with. The slick sounds of his pleasure filled the small room and despite your tiredness, you found yourself turned on again by the sight of him. “I can smell you,” he hissed, opening his mandibles wide. “I can taste you…”

“Come on me, Red.”

At that, he looked down at you with reverence, gasped, grunted, pitched forwards onto one hand, and then started to come all over his fingers in thick, pale spurts. He directed his release over your stomach, but a moment later his knees went out from under him with a small gasp of surprise from the force of it, and he ground his cock against you instead, all the while still coming.

Red’s second orgasm lasted just as long as the first, and seemed just as intense, but eventually he went still and he buried his face near your neck, inhaling the scent of your skin while you let your fingertips draw idle patterns over the cracks and textures of his leathery shoulders. Occasionally you stroked down the length of one of his ‘dreads’ and he would whimper and rock his hips, grinding his slick, softening cock into the hollow of your hip. The mess between you was nowhere near as much this time though, but he still used up a fair few wipes to clean you off again.

The mattress was ruined. It was partly from his destructive claws but mostly because of the mess that had spilled out of you, so when you expressed distaste at the idea of sleeping on it, he spread your sleeping bag onto the floor and lifted you onto it, one arm under your knees and the other around your shoulders.

He dragged the blanket down and pulled it over himself with uncharacteristically clumsy movements, and then pulled you — sleeping bag and all — right up against his chest and began to purr like a big cat.

“You ok?” you asked, not knowing the protocol for his kind after apparently mind-blowing sex.

He nodded.

“You need anything?”

He shook his head and held you even tighter.

“You should rest,” he said thickly. His breathing evened out only a few minutes later, and it wasn’t long before you joined him in the deepest sleep you’d ever experienced.

When you woke in the morning, the lantern was still glowing dimly and Red was somehow wrapped even more determinedly around you, and you wondered how long you could get away with lying there before either Croc disturbed you or the rescue team arrived.

___

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[unwantedtomost]

it had been months — sebastian stan

sebastian stan x fem!reader

word count: 4,401 words

summery: it had been nine months since you and your first real long term boyfriend broke up. but as they say, time makes the heart grow fonder ... and it also made the lust build up.

warnings: angst, smut, thigh riding, cheating, kind of a breeding kink at the end, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

a/n: i have never actually posted a whole thing on here before, so i hope this goes well. i know my writing can improve, but it’s pretty good i would say. enjoy!

It had been months since you had broken up with your long-term boyfriend. Your first long-term boyfriend you had since you arrived to the Hollywood scene. Nine months, to be exact. The same amount of time it would have been to carry a child. A hypothetical child. The same hypothetical child that ruined your relationship in the first place.

“You don’t want kids?” Sebastian questioned as soon as you entered the shared apartment. The topic of children came up at dinner with your shared friends. You, offhandedly said: “God, no,” with a laugh, not giving it a second thought. Not till now.

“Not really,” you said as you unzipped your heeled boots. “I never really have, not since I was younger.”

“Never?” He asked, heart starting to beat heavier.

You looked up to him, concerned when you saw his face. It was the same face he had on every time you guys got in a face, mixed with disappointment, maybe even hurt. You smiled, trying to lighten the situation.

“Maybe not never,” you said, putting your shoes away. “But not at least for ten years, maybe even longer. I mean, I am only twenty-two. I would like a good life without children before bringing them into the mix.”

Your warm smile and calm demeanor did nothing to elevate the tension, something inside you saying it did the exact opposite. He looked serious and upset, a combination you never saw much.

“In ten years I’ll be almost fifty,” Sebastian states.

“So? Guys never really stop shooting out good rounds. All my parts will still be intact by that time too.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is it?” You were confused. Why was he acting like this?

“I shouldn’t be old enough to be the kid’s grandfather.”

Anger started to bubble up as well. This tone that he had made you pissed off. He was talking like you were stupid like you didn’t get what he was saying. The brassiness you had in general not helping your temper.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you started dating someone sixteen years younger than you,” you shot back.

Then the yelling started. Something that could have been a deep, meaningful conversation (one that frankly should have been had way before this point) turned into a full-blown fight. You both started going in at each other, picking at old scabs that you knew would hurt. That was the point, after all, you just wanted to hurt each other. Because you were mad and upset, you guessed, but by the end of it, you weren’t even sure.

The fighting ended two hours later, you sat, slumped on the couch, huffing. You tried to catch your breath from all the yelling. Your throat was hoarse, your cheeks sticky from dried tears.

“It seems like we’re not gonna work out then,” you said, numb.

“Seems so.”

And you left that night, grabbing nothing but your phone before making your way to your closest friend’s house.

After that, you cried for two months straight. You really thought that Sebastian was endgame. That you would be together forever. That you would be happy. Ever since you caught sight of him at your first audition, you felt that he was the one. Then the universe laughed maniacally as it showed you just how fucking wrong you were.

In the past nine months, you had seen him approximately sixteen times, most being in passing, a few being at parties, and one time being at a coffee shop that you both loved. You started to frequent it less after the breakup, too scared to bump into him. Little did you know, he was doing the same thing. The day you two saw each other was both of your first times in three months.

It was all stupid small talk until it wavered, forced laughs and fake smiles fading as the reality of the situation simmered in.

“Look, y/n—”

“Don’t,” you interrupted. You knew what he was going to say, and you didn’t want to hear it. You simply couldn’t. “It was nice seeing you again, Sebastian. I hope you have a good life.” You took a few steps before turning back around for a moment. He looked at you like he was expecting you to run into his arms and make everything go back to normal. “And I really hope you meet a girl that can give you what you need.”

He tried to reach out to you, but you wouldn’t let him. You simply walked away and left him, alone. That was the last time you had spoken to him.

It was five months after the breakup until you let your friends talk you into going out again. And that night you had run into none other than the Timothee Chalamet. Numbers were exchanged then the next thing you knew, you were naked in his hotel room. After that, you went through a bit of a “hoe stage.” Every two weeks you were on a cover of TMZ, E!, or any other celebrity gossip magazine that existed with a “possible new thing.” The people ranged from Tom Holland to Madison Beer, and no one knew what was true or not. After the first few batches came out, you stopped giving a shit. You were allowed to rebound with whomever or however you wanted to, and you were taking full advantage of that.

You were so busy juggling so many people that you hadn’t even thought about Sebastian. Not till right now. Your eyes catch his from across the ballroom that you’re currently in. Your pulse quickens rapidly, you feel like you might even faint. If it wasn’t for Timothee’s hand on your waist, you were sure you would have collapsed on the spot. You watched as Sebastian’s jaw clenched just like it did whenever you did something he disapproved of. Just like it did every time he gave into himself and read one of those stupid gossip sights and saw you all over whatever arm candy you had chosen for the week.

“I’ll be right back, okay babe?” Timothee said, kissing you on the cheek. He waited for you to nod before making his way to one of his friends.

You don’t know what to do and those beautiful blue eyes you fell in love with all that time ago refuse to leave yours. You feel like you want to cry, or scream, or throw up, but you know that you shouldn’t actually do any of those things. You’d draw attention and you don’t want any more people talking about you.

Luckily, one of your best friends, Elizabeth, pulls you into a tight hug and brings you back to earth. Her body feels warm and it makes you feel safe, the smell of her strawberry shampoo bringing you comfort.

“I know,” she said before you spoke. “I saw. Are you okay? I’ll leave with you right now if you want to.”

It takes you a minute to process everything, and even though you’re running everything through your mind, nothing really sinks in.

“I’ll be fine,” you say with conviction, though you don’t know if it’s true at all. “Leaving wouldn’t accomplish anything.” You stop talking for a minute before smiling at Elizabeth. “Now, let’s go give the people what they want and take some pictures together.”

It had been two hours and the event was finally coming to a close. No more than forty-five minutes and the place would be cleared out. With that knowledge, you went to go take advantage of the free bar stocked up with expensive liquor. After schmoozing with people you did not even want to interact with, you deserve it.

“Two shots of tequila and a rum and coke, please,” you say to the rather cute bartender, shoulders slumping.

As soon as the two shot glasses were in front of you, you downed them. It burned like hell and you could only imagine the ungodly face you made. You tried to chase it with the rum and coke, but it didn’t help much. You heard a gruff voice beside you order something, one that was very familiar. When you heard a chuckle, you knew for sure who was right next to you. You froze again, that same dizzy, sick feeling coming back. You turned your head slowly to see those big blue eyes for the second time tonight, your heart surely beating loud enough that anyone in a mile radius could hear it.

“You look beautiful tonight, y/n,” Sebastian said, leaning against the bar, facing you.

“You do too,” you blurt out. Face turning red after you realized that you’re fucking stupid. “I mean, you look—shit. You look very nice, Seb—Sebastian.”

You’re so flustered and red, you want to simply sink into the floor. For a moment, you wonder why he isn’t acting the same way. It could be that he had already had some to drink or maybe he was just better at controlling his emotion. And the thought that makes dread flow through you is that maybe he is just over you.

“Are you going to an after-party?” He asks, sipping from his glass.

“I don’t think so,” you say. You were supposed to go to one with Timothee, where you were finally going to announce that you two had become official, but now you just want to go home. “Are you?”

“Probably not,” he said simply. “I’ll just have a few more of these back home and go to bed.”

“Drinking alone is no fun,” you say, hinting. You know what you are trying to get across but you don’t know why. It’s like your mouth was moving before your brain could understand what you were doing.

“It’s not ideal,” he said. “But I really don’t have a date to drink with, unlike you.” He pointed towards Timothee talking to a director you hastily met.

“He’s not my date,” you shot out. “I mean, he is, but we’re not like, dating.” Why the fuck are you talking!?!?

“It’s none of my business,” Sebastian said. He didn’t sound mean, he sounded like he was trying to comfort you.

“I know … but we’re not … if you were wondering.”

He chuckled, placing a hand on your elbow. “It was nice to see you again, y/n.”

He turned to start walking away but you called after him, making him turn back around. “Wait!” Once he was facing you, you felt like you were in a movie. “I could go for a drink.”

Sebastian smiled but his eyes dismissed you. “What are you doing, sugar?” He warned.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “But don’t shut me down.”

With a shared smile, he took your hand and you both left the party. On the car ride back to his apartment (that used to be your apartment), you thought briefly about how you would explain this to Timothee in the morning. Then you turned off your phone so you didn’t have to feel guilty if he decided to text you. Neither of you spoke much on the way. His hand never left its place on your thigh before you were finally there.

When he opened the door, you stumbled lightly into the apartment. Sebastian caught you by wrapping his arm around your waist. He lightly sat you down on the chair by the entrance (the same one you had sat at nine months ago). Once he had closed the door and put his things down, he came back to you to help slip off your heels.

“Are you already drunk?” He chuckled.

“No, just a wee bit tipsy.”

“Your ‘wee bit’ is usually a lotta bit.”

“Not this time, I really mean just a wee wee bit.” You suddenly burst out laughing at the fact you just said wee wee, giving away the fact that you are indeed close to being drunk.

“Maybe you don’t need anymore to drink,” Sebastian said.

“C’mon, Sebby, take that stick out of your ass,” you say, making him laugh. It makes you feel lighter like you weren’t fucking shit up again. Like you weren’t making a mistake you would regret in the morning. 

You watched as he made his way into the kitchen, pouring both of you a glass of red wine. Your favorite and most expensive red wine, the one that you had left at the apartment after the breakup. You wondered if it was the same bottle, or if he had done the same thing he was doing with you with another girl. When he came back, he handed you the glass which you placed down on the coffee table, realizing you were still in a designer white dress that you didn’t own.

“Shit,” you muttered after your realization.

“What is it?”

“This isn’t my dress.”

His eyes wandered down your figure as he thought. “You can take that off and I can hang it up for you. I’m sure there’s something here you can wear.”

You nodded before he was walking towards the bedroom, the one you once shared. You followed after him through the small hall. You looked around the room, noticing how boring it looked now. None of your decorations you had were up anymore, but the small mural you once painted in the middle of the night was still in full view. Did he think about you every time he saw it? If he did, why didn’t he just paint over it? 

Sebastian placed one of his shirts (that was your favorite one to wear) and a pair of shorts you had thought you lost on the bed.

“Well, you can get changed in here,” he stated before going for the door.

“Actually,” you called out, stopping him from leaving. “Can you unzip me please?”

He paused for a moment before nodding, slowly making his way back to you. The room went silent as he softly collected your hair and moved it to one side. Heat started to rise through your body at the close proximity he held. His hands grazed your shoulders momentarily before he steadily unzipped the expensive dress. You caught his eyes in the mirror in front of you, your cheeks immediately burning red. He finished unzipping the dress before helping you slide it off your arms. You had to cover your breasts with your arm since you hadn’t worn a bra. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen your body before, he knew his way around there better than you did, but not covering yourself just felt inappropriate. But, to be fair, the entire situation felt inappropriate. The dress fell to a pool around your feet, leaving you in nothing but a pair of lace black underwear, ones that Sebastian had bought for you one month before you broke up. You stepped out of the dress, eyes never leaving his. He bent down to pick it up, blue orbs never leaving your eyes.

“I’ll go lay this on the guest bed,” Sebastian said plainly before leaving the room and closing the door.

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you let your arm fall. Even though you hadn’t even had a conversation with Sebastian in six months, being in that moment felt more intimate than anytime you had sex with Timothee—or anyone, for that matter. You pulled on the worn-out gray tee shirt that vaguely had ‘Coca-Cola’ printed across it before going out to the living room where you found Sebastian sipping on his wine, now dress in an old tee and grey sweatpants.

The next hour felt like a blur, it was filled with giggles and stupid comments. By the end of it, the wine bottle was empty and you two were officially wine drunk. Now, you were slumped on the couch (the one that you picked out), leaning towards Sebastian, hand dancing along the cushion space between you two.

“Have you realized we never had a goodbye?” You ask, breaking the silence.

“What do you mean?” He asked, not wanting his guess to what you were talking about to be right.

“I mean, we had a fight and I left then we were done. There were no ‘this is for the best’ speeches or attempts at a goodbye kiss. One day there was an us and the next it was … nothing.” You looked up at him, an innocent yet quizzical look on your soft features.

“We don’t have to talk about this,” he said.

Not this shit again. “I know,” you said, “we don’t have to talk about anything. We’re not together anymore. We don’t even need to acknowledge each other’s existence anymore. But tonight, you did, and now we’re on your couch.”

“I don’t—” he started, but you wouldn’t let him finish.

“We don’t have to talk about it then. But, I do have another question. Did you ever fuck anyone here?” The words flowed out before you could think any longer, nothing but courage and alcohol running through your body.

“What?”

“It’s pretty self-explanatory, Sebastian. I just want to know if you ever fucked someone in my—our—this place.”

His eyes bore into yours as he spoke, voice sharp and clear. “No, y/n, I have never fucked anyone in this place. No one but you.”

That answer made you happy. This place, your place, was still pure. No random hookups had tramped through the place where you lived.

“Good,” you accidentally said out loud, making him upset.

“Why does it even matter? It’s not like you weren’t fucking those young things you were all over in public.” He started to get angry at the thought. “Who are you to question me about my sex life after you broke up with me then pranced around tabloid covers for months with different people each week?”

“Because this was our house, I just want to know it wasn’t tainted by blonde bitches with names you didn’t even remember in the fucking morning.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but you’re the only blonde bitch I’ve fucked.”

Suddenly, your hand was moving and your palm was connecting with his face. It shocked both of you, making you both freeze in place. It took ten seconds before Sebastian grabbed the wrist you hit him with, yanking it so you were closer to him. So close you could feel his breath on your face.

“Slap me again and see what fucking happens, I dare you,” he spit out.

Then your heart was in your ass as your stomach erupted with butterflies and your panties soaked with arousal.

It was almost like you lost all control over your body as you smashed your lips against his. Your hands went to the back of his neck, pulling him in closer and tugging at the hair there. The intentional scruff on his face was harsh against your smooth skin, but it only elevated your pleasure. Sebastian’s hands went around the sides of your neck, one kind of cupping your face while the other was closer to the back to pull you closer. You felt like you needed to get closer to him, get as close as possible. You needed every single inch of him over every single part of yourself. Your leg swung, straddling him.

Without thinking, you rutted yourself against his thigh, a guttural moan coming from your lips as you did. It’s not like you hadn’t been touched in a while, you just got fucked a few days ago, but you hadn’t experienced something as hot as this in so long. It was rushed and needed, you felt like you would die if he stopped. Your hips absent-mindedly grinded down against his thigh again.

“Fuck, ride my thigh baby,” he ordered. You listened, slipping into your old ways. You continued to rut against his thigh as you kissed. He knew you were getting close by the moans you were letting out into the kiss. He pulled away from your lips, watching as you were losing yourself. “I want you to cum for me, sugar.”

Your hips slowed as your mind raced a mile a minute. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you cum from just his thigh. What would that do to his already inflated ego? It sounded like bullshit to give into him.

“No,” you mumbled out, your hips threatening to halt their movement.

“No?” He repeated.

You sat there for a minute, silent as his eyes frantically studied your face to see what the point was. He wondered if you wanted to stop, he would understand completely, but he knew that wasn’t what it was by the way you keep clenching your thighs together. Sebastian smirked as he realized what was really happening. He grabbed your hips and started to push you down on his thigh. The problem was that you wanted to cum, but you didn’t want to cum for him. Too bad he was determined on it.

You moaned loudly as he started to drag your hips. You were inching so close, the fact that you didn’t want to give in to the feeling made it feel like it was only becoming stronger. Your hands grabbed his old t-shirt as you frantically moved your hips back and forth. Your nose scrunched and your eyes shut tight, your mouth letting out a whisper of “oh fuck”s on a loop.

“That’s it,” you heard Sebastian say even though his voice sounded like it was miles away. “Cum like a good girl.”

Suddenly, all the pressure that was building up deep within your tummy snapped and you were on cloud 9. Your heat pulsed as you road out your orgasm, Sebastian's hands helping you immensely. It took a good minute of pants as you caught your breath before you opened your eyes and came back to reality.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” you muttered to him when you finally made eye contact again.

“I know,” he smirked. “Now be a good girl, sugar, and take off your pants.”

You questioned arguing with him more, but you decided not to. You wanted him, you wanted him so fucking bad. You stood up and pulled down your shorts, doing a little spin so Sebastian could marvel at how wonderful you looked.

“As beautiful as those look on you, darling, they’d look better on the floor.”

You playfully rolled your eyes as you stripped out of the underwear as well, leaving you in nothing but an old grey t-shirt. You went back to your place on Sebastian’s lap, pulling him in for another passionate kiss. You felt like you were melting into him entirely as everything snapped back into place. Your hands roamed lower, palming him through his grey sweats. You smirked to yourself at the realization of how hard he was already and at the fact he wasn’t wearing boxers. He lifted his hips to help you pull down his pants. Just as you were getting ready to place his member in the place you wanted him the most, he halts your movement by grabbing your wrist.

“Shit, I don’t have a condom, y/n,” he warned. You frowned, upset that he had stopped you.

“I don’t care.”

“But you still have that IUD in, right?”

You grimaced because no, you did not. Your five years had run out two months ago and you hadn’t gotten around to making an appointment for a new one. You shook your head slowly side to side before he sighed. He went to pull you off of him but you stopped him by holding onto his shoulders

“I don’t care,” you repeated.

“Y/n, you know why can’t.”

“Why not?”

He looked at you in disbelief. “Besides the fact you could get pregnant?”

“I don’t care,” you said one more time. “I want you.”

He looked into your eyes, trying his best to decipher your intentions.

“Y/n …”

“Get me pregnant, Sebby,” you said, meaning it too. “I want you, I want your kids. Fuck, I want us back. I don’t care if that means kids and a white picket fence. I just want you.”

“Are you sure?”

In response, you slowly leaned down and your lips touched. It was nothing like the kisses you had shared preferably, it was slow and soft. He pulled you closer, finally letting you lower yourself down on him. You both let out loud moans as you sink down on his member.

It was like you had forgotten what making love felt like, probably because you did. In the past nine months since you had split, you hadn’t made love with anyone once. It was all just meaningless sex or hot fucking, but there was no love behind it. You didn’t love Timothee, you hadn’t loved any of your flings. Maybe it was because you never stopped loving Sebastian—you were almost sure it was because of that.

You moved up and down whilst Sebastian thrust up into you. The room was filled with moans, grunts, and praises from both ends. He started to kiss your neck as his thumb started to rub your clit. The multiple amounts of stimulation only brought you closer to your climax.

“I’m gonna, fuck—I’m close.”

“I know, babygirl,” he cooed. “Look at me.” You looked into his blue orbs, feeling your climax inching ever so closer. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whined out as your hips moved faster. “Cum inside me, Sebastian. Get me—fuck, god—put a fucking baby in me.”

With your confirmation, he flipped you on your back, thrusting harder. The hand that wasn’t toying with your clit interlaced with yours. Your grip on each other squeezed harder as you neared your finishes. You wrapped your legs around him as his hips started to stutter.

“Cum with me, baby,” Sebastian groaned.

You finally let the coil that built inside of you snap with his permission. Moments later, he busted inside of you, making you both yell out. He collapsed on top of you, trying his best not to crush you under his weight. You both panted for minutes before you finally spoke up.

“I love you,” you said. He lifted his head, looking into his eyes. “I never stopped.

“Neither did I,” Sebastian said. “Did you mean it, you want to have kids?”

“I want to do anything if it means I can be with you. Anything.”

[mercy-burning]

A Little Familiar — 1. October

Pairing: witch!Spencer x familiar!Reader (female) Summary: Reader has been Spencer’s companion for 25 years now, and he finds a special way to celebrate with her. Category: Fluff, SMUT (18+) Content Warnings: Language, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, pet name (Kitten) Word Count: 5.7k

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST | SERIES PLAYLIST

NOTE: Hello, everyone!! I posted a little moodboard for this fic here for you to look at if you’d like some vibes! And for those who don’t know, as a little background, a familiar is a companion to a witch that splits their time between human and animal form! That’s pretty much all you need to know, but if you’d like to learn more about familiars, you totally should look into researching them! It’s a topic I find rather fascinating, and it was really fun to delve into that dynamic here! I hope you enjoy!! ❤

———

“Oh let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone Oh let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon Oh show me slowly what I only know the limits of And dance me to the end of love” —The Civil Wars, Dance Me to the End of Love (Bonus Track)

Since it was his birthday, I let him sleep in about an hour later. It may not have sounded like much, but Spencer never enjoyed sleeping in later than he had to, even if it was nice in theory. Ever the early bird, he was.

As a cat, you could say it was safe to assume he was the only bird I really cared for.

As per usual, I was curled up at his side, resting my chin up on his bare hip while his hand laid atop my back. Though I was wide awake, and in desperate need of a stretch, I didn't dare move a muscle. Not that Spencer would have minded me waking him up, but if we were going to take the day for ourselves, spending it doing all sorts of relaxing, menial things like we'd planned, then a one-hour head start wasn't going to hinder it at all.

If anything, he would go on one of his mini tirades about how extra sleep prevented him from spending more time with me, awake. And as usual, I would nod along and go about either making our breakfast or blinking up at him as he rubbed my head, depending on what what form I was in when he addressed it.

I would assume he'd wait until I was in my feline form, that way I wouldn't argue with him. Though, even if I could or wanted to argue with him, I wouldn't have. I liked hearing him talk, even as he went on about the same things he always did whether he remembered the conversation or not.

We had precisely thirty-four minutes before I'd allow myself to wake him up when he did it himself, his fingers gently twitching over the silky fur at my back. I blinked, waiting to see if he'd only been stirring, but it seemed that wasn't the case.

His throat grumbled, low and wispy as he spoke and gently nudged my head with the knuckle of his forefinger.

"How long did you let me sleep, Kitten?"

I couldn't help the low, continuous rumble that stirred in my chest as he addressed me, my head instinctively reaching up to meet his hand with gentle fervor.

I was only going to give you an extra hour.

Upon hearing my telepathic response, Spencer laughed, a clipped, breathy sound that seeped in through my pelt and warmed my insides like it always had.

From the moment I met him twenty-five years ago, his laugh always had a habit of filling my soul with contentment and warming me better than any beam of sunlight ever could. Even in the morning, when the sound was quieter and muffled by the thin blanket of sleep that still had yet to fully dissipate, that never changed.

"Well, I appreciate the thought, but you know what they say about worms and early birds..."

I'm a cat...

He laughed again, and even though I couldn't see his face from this angle, I saw his smile in my head clear as day.

His teeth were most likely just barely showing, still unwilling to fully come out after having only woken up about a minute ago, and his eyes were surely drooping a little as they adjusted to the new lighting. The thin layer of stubble that coated the lower half of his face rounded out the image, coloring him beautifully and adding texture as his hair fell in untamed curls atop his head that framed his eyes and ears.

"If you want to look at me so badly, you could just get up and come see me, you know..."

Smartass...

"Hey, now, behave... It's my birthday, Kitten, or have you forgotten?"

How could I ever forget? I answered truthfully.

"Then get your bratty little tail over here and come say hello."

It was comments like that that made me wish I had a larger range of sounds in my arsenal. If I were in my human form, I could have grunted or scoffed, but all this one was good for was little rolling chirps or full-on meows, both of which were quite frankly adorable and happy, and I certainly wasn't in the position or need to hiss at him.

So, I did the only thing I could, and that was to get up and meet him.

After a good stretch, I padded over his bare torso and sat promptly on his chest, getting down to 'loaf' as he'd called it with a laugh the first time we met. We were at eye-level then, and it brought me comfort knowing that even when I couldn't see him, I could still picture what he'd look like when I got the chance to find out and get it right every single time.

He scrunched his nose with a cheeky smile, and I blinked back at him, feeling myself start to purr as he brought his knuckles to my cheek and properly greeted me.

Happy Birthday, Spencer.

"Thank you, Y/N."

***

Being in my human form wasn't something I did unless it was absolutely necessary, which meant that most of the time I was curled up in the windowsill above Spencer's desk while he worked. Our telepathic communication made it easy for us to speak when my help was needed, or if he simply wanted some company (which was usually the case).

All that to say, though he was well and truly capable of painting his nails, Spencer insisted it was necessary that I do them for him, and honestly, who was I to deny it?

Sure, he was rather dramatic about the whole thing, batting his thick honey eyes and speaking to me as though I'd be completely ruining his day and the rest of his life if I declined, but I'd never been one to resist his flair for the dramatic- mostly because of the charm that came with it.

We sat at the tiny kitchen table as the odd mix of honey, pear, and nail polish wafted through the air. The window was open-though it was hardly ever shut-bringing in a fresh, cool October breeze that also offered soft music from the windchimes as it accompanied the abundance of birds that hid among the trees.

Though, the music only served as background noise to Spencer's voice, soft and idyllic as he recited some of his favorite poems from memory. I soaked in every word, every syllable that rolled off his tongue, while my hands worked delicately at brushing on thin layers of black polish to his nails.

After the third coat, I capped the bottle tightly and held his hands in mine, examining my handiwork with a smile as he finished his final poem. I could feel him looking at me, most likely with that wistful watching eye he always had.

"It's called adoration," he said softly while wiggling his fingers in my hands, amusement clinging to every word.

I looked up at him with a small smile. "You know... I'm still not used to that."

"Used to what?

"You... adoring me."

The gleam in his eye made my heart jump in my chest. "Oh, I've always adored you, Kitten..."

"I know. It's just..."

"Different," he finished, his eyes softening.

I nodded, gently placing his hands on the table. "It's only been about a year since we got away from it all, away from the scrutiny and the judgement... I guess I'm just not used to it, still- Being together like this, not worrying about the consequences."

Spencer paused, studying me for a moment while I reached over and grabbed the little dish with all his rings in it. I grabbed one-thin, braided, and silver-and slipped it onto his middle finger, careful to avoid tarnishing the fresh polish.

"You're happy, aren't you?" he asked gently. I felt that he already knew my answer, but his desire for my reassurance was heartwarming.

I looked up at him with a smile, reassuring all its own and completely genuine. "Absolutely."

Again, more teasingly, he added, "And you're sure you're not just saying that because it's my birthday?"

"Yes, silly. I'm always happy with you."

He nudged my leg with his foot then, and I continued picking out rings and dressing his fingers.

Just as I'd planned, the timer for the cake went off just as I was finished applying the last ring. "Ah, perfect!" I chirped, patting Spencer's knee. "The cake is done."

"Should I grab the frostings?"

He was about to get up with me, but I grabbed his shoulder and led him back down. "Ah-ah. Your nails are drying. You just sit still and look pretty, birthday boy."

"Why do I have the feeling you planned that on purpose?" he asked while I strode over to the oven and grabbed a mitt.

Over my shoulder, I offered, "Because I did. Now shut up and read to me some more while I decorate your cake, yeah?"

Before I turned to retrieve said cake, I caught a glimpse of the shit-eating, adoring little grin he had plastered to his face as he leaned back in the chair and spread out to get comfortable. "Bossy little kitten..."

If I'd been looking at him I would have rolled my eyes, but since I was turned away, I let a shit-eating, adoring smile of my own break through the surface.

***

The light, sweet taste of honey and pear coated my mouth as I swallowed and contemplated my next move. My eyes flitted up to meet Spencer's, but all I found was the same determined glint that suggested he wasn't going to go easy on me.

Throw in the fact that he'd shut out our telepathic communication, and I officially had no advantage here.

Really, I didn't even know why we were playing. Any other day, he would have been teaching me strategies and helping me get better at the game. But today was his birthday, so naturally he was using that as an excuse to be a little shit.

I huffed, reaching out to the chess board, and the moment my fingers grazed over the piece I wanted to move, he clicked his tongue.

"Careful..."

I moved it anyway, knitting my eyebrows and shaking my head. "Oh, what's the point anyway! We both know you're going to win, and that's not fun."

"Would you rather I let you win?"

"Of course not... But I could do without your snarky comments."

He moved his own piece then, subsequently removing one of mine from the board and I sighed, watching as the metal of his rings and the gold of the chess pieces glinted under the sun.

I'd suggested playing in the greenhouse, but Spencer wanted to play in the garden, under the large oak tree at our little picnic table. When I argued about the bugs and their affinity for sweets (meaning the cake I'd neatly decorated in sage green pear frosting and floral details), he argued that we shouldn't let a beautiful day go to waste.

In the end I was inclined to agree.

Normally by this time of year, it would have started to snow, but this year must have been an exception.

In all honesty it felt like a beacon, some type of sign from the stars that Spencer and I were finally where we were meant to be.

Growing up with him, helping him transition into his powers as his familiar and companion, meant that we were bonded for life. And it wasn't uncommon for young witches to come into their powers with a familiar. In fact, it was more rare for a witch to grow without one.

The thing about Spencer and I, though, was that our bond always felt like more. The older he got, the more things started to shift, and by the time he'd turned seventeen we both realized that our companionship was more than abnormal.

Needless to say, our guardians weren't very keen on that.

It's not to say that a witch being in a romantic relationship with their familiar was forbidden by law or anything, but it was so incredibly rare that we were pretty heavily scrutinized and somewhat outcast by our peers. Our relationship was something no one else in our lives understood, and something only we knew to feel right.

It was hard, growing up with everyone around keeping a watchful eye on us while also trying to stay out of our business. But we honed in on our deep love and care for one another all the same, using our connection as a crutch.

A witch's connection with their familiar was always a tool to keep them balanced and connected to the world around them. And aside from the fact that we were romantically in love with each other, my connection to Spencer was no different.

It was just a shame no one else could see it.

Leaving it all behind-everything we've ever known-took years of mustered up courage to finally do. But what made it successful was the realization that we truly didn't need anyone or anything else to be happy. Not to mention he was 36 when we finally made the decision to leave.

Now, he was 37 and I loved him even more than when we met.

Though, when he was laughing amusedly at my attempts to beat him at his own game, I was a little less inclined to show it.

I watched as he sat back a little, finishing his turn and taking a bite of cake.

He smiled through a mouth-full of frosting. "Your go, Kitten."

"Oh, don't Kitten me," I returned with a huff.

***

We rounded out the evening with a long walk through the valley, and then some more poetry— which he read to me until I fell asleep. I then woke up next to him on the couch, complaining about how sleeping in feline form was way easier on the muscles, to which, of course, he laughed and told me I could make up for it in the garden.

So I switched forms and followed him outside, where I curled up under a tree and watched as he gathered some herbs and prepared the garden for the colder months. All the while he snuck glances over at me, and even a few pats on the head.

It was peaceful, just like we'd wanted it to be.

Now we'd just finished dinner, and I was back on two legs, on my way to clean the dishes up when Spencer stopped me, pulling me close to him by the hips.

"Uh oh," I said with the least concerned smile on my face. "What do you want?"

"Hmmm... An after-dinner birthday kiss?"

"You ask like I could ever say no."

It was soft, comforting... Much like most of the kisses we typically shared, though now it tasted faintly of left-over cake and wine. It tasted like celebration.

When we pulled away, he had that evil-adjacent glint in his eye, and I raised my eyebrow cautiously. "What?"

"Nothing..."

"I don't believe you."

He gripped my waist a little tighter and tilted his head, studying me for a moment before speaking. "I have something for you."

"Spencer..."

"I know, I know. You always made me promise not to, but... It's been twenty-five years since we met, and I feel like that needs to be celebrated too. Don't you agree?"

I'd never been one to make his birthday about me, even if his twelfth was the day I came into his life. It was a great milestone for us, sure, but we'd always said that we didn't need it to remind ourselves of how much we loved each other— Because we were bonded, body and soul, and that enough was all the reminder we needed.

Still, it was his birthday after all, and I wasn't going to rain on his parade.

And I think he knew that, too, because his smile was unmistakable, even before I nodded my agreement.

"Perfect. I'll take you, but first we need to change.”

***

Spencer Reid— never one to turn away from the opportunity to use dramatic flair...

I was currently blindfold as he guided me through our home, a long, thin wrap dress billowing behind me as I tried not to stumble. To his credit, we went slow, but I hated not being able to see. And it's not like I didn't know almost every corner of our house, so where could he possibly have taken me that required a blindfold?

I voiced those concerns to Spencer, but he simply offered a "Patience, Kitten," and left me to wonder.

When we stopped I took notice of my feet, which were standing on cool, smooth ground. Tile.

So that meant we were either in the bathroom (ridiculous, but whatever his reasoning, it honestly wouldn't have surprised me), the kitchen (I seriously doubted he'd surprise me in the kitchen of all places, since we'd spent most of our day there anyway)...

Or the ballroom.

Well, the sunroom if you were Spencer.

It was a wide-open space that we hadn't decided what to do with, even after a year of living here. He'd suggested highly that we turn it into a library, but with all the floor-to-ceiling windows on the one largest wall, it seemed impractical. Then I'd suggested a ballroom, and we realized that that also might have been impractical, seeing as we had no use for one.

Still, I'd held out hope that one day we could dance there, with large ornate decorations, a music player of some sort, and perhaps even a few guests if we'd ever made enough friends to have a get-together.

Though we'd made quite a few of them, we still only ever referred to the room as the sunroom—Well, Spencer did, and I did when we talked about it, but I always liked to call it the ballroom anyway. Just for my dreams' sake.

But when he took the blindfold off and I looked around, I found that my dreams had been transformed to real life.

The sun was just setting, basking the room in a pretty orange glow that was sure to dim within the next twenty minutes or so.

Still, at the moment we were bathing in golden hour, and what particularly caught my eye was the golden gramophone sitting in the corner, glinting like a beacon of all my dreams. Other than that there weren't many large decorations like I'd talked about (mainly a chandelier), but he'd taken the time to adorn where the ground met the windows with tealight candles, stones, and pots of my favorite flowers— white snapdragons.

And of course, in the middle of the room was a large mattress, surrounded by hundreds of un-lit candles.

"Don't tell me you brought me here just to bed me," I half-joked.

Spencer grabbed my hand with a laugh. "That wasn't my only intention, no... We should at least have a dance first, don't you think?"

My heart swelled. And the smile that had already burned my cheeks grew wider as he flicked out his hand and slowly twisted his fingers, a soft crackling followed by the sweet melody of instrumental orchestra music filling my ears at the motion.

"It only would have taken you a few steps to reach the gramophone, you know," I teased, practically floating into his outstretched arms.

"Yes, but what's the point of having abilities if you don't use them for fun? Besides, I wouldn't dare leave your side, even for a few steps."

As his hands rested gently at my back and mine reached up to curl around his shoulders, I tilted my head up with a grin. "I would have gladly gone with you."

"I know, my love."

I closed my eyes then, leaning my head into his chest and breathing him in as we swayed in gentle circles along the tile. I didn't recognize the tune he'd chosen, but I didn't want to tarnish the moment by asking any questions. Not that it would have, but the serenity of this moment, hearing nothing but a sweet string melody through a blanket of static and the muffled, steady beat of Spencer's loving heart...

I could have lived in that moment forever.

I slightly opened my eyes to watch as the sun sank lower, dimming the room minute by minute until the orange faded into a dull, dark green that was almost black.

That's when Spencer flicked on the candles, removing a hand from my back and waving his fingers again. Each candle flickered to life and casted another orange glow around us, only this time it was darker. More intimate. I looked up, barely able to see the shadows of Spencer's face, but I saw enough to recognize the small satisfied grin that rested there and flared my insides alight just as quickly as the candles.

The music stopped then, and I returned his grin with a little roll of the eyes. "Oh, you really had this planned out, huh?"

"Of course I did... And do you know why, other than the obvious great need to take you to bed?"

We laughed a considerable amount, and then I tilted my head curiously upon seeing the serious glint in his eye.

"Why?" I asked softly.

"Because my twelfth birthday is the day I met you. And every year since then, I've watched you assist and protect me. You've given every part of yourself to being there when I need you, and even when I don't. But it's... It's more than that."

Spencer brushed the back of his hand over my cheek, and the cool metal of his rings made me shiver, if the deep and enchanted look in his eyes hadn't done it already.

"You've opened up my heart and soul in ways I can't fully explain. What I do is simple magic, but what you do? Every day, just by existing? That's pure magic. You're pure magic. And I will love you until my final breath."

I hated crying. And if he went any further, I was definitely going to cry.

But he knew me just as well as I knew myself, which is why he switched gears a little and pulled me closer, one hand resting at my waist while the other traced featherlight lines over my neck.

"So, yes, today is my birthday, but it's also a marker of the day I got to call you mine. Today is just as much about you as it is me... So please, Kitten..."

With every breath, his face inched closer to mine, and within every inch I fell deeper and deeper under his spell. Not that ne ever needed one.

And then he flashed me that dazzling smirk of his, ever so promiscuous and littered with charm as he lowered his voice and officially rendered me useless against him with one simple request.

"Let me lavish you."

I only let the words marinate for a second before closing the gap between us and pressing my lips to his. Our kiss was certainly heavier than the one we shared in the kitchen moments before, but I felt light-headed all the same.

Truthfully, I was so wrapped up in the pure intoxication of his mouth's movements against mine that I hadn't noticed we'd migrated to the mattress in the middle of the room, not until my feet hit the edge and we momentarily broke apart.

"Lay down for me," he whispered against my lips.

With some adjusting of my dress, I got down and laid back on the mattress, the long, thin skirt hiking up above my waist to allow for freer movement. And as I expected, Spencer started at my feet, gently smoothing over the skin on my ankles with his lips before trailing up my legs. He alternated between each one as he got higher, though once he reached the tops of my thighs, he pressed one firm kiss to the area just below my clit and continued upwards.

By now his head was underneath my dress, hands roaming my sides as his tongue darted out to trace patterns along my stomach, and just underneath my breasts.

"I can take this off if it would be easier for you," I laughed as his arms struggled to fit under the fabric with his head. "At this rate you'll be wearing the dress with me."

"No need," he returned, shimmying himself out from underneath it and smirking. "That's why I made sure to make the neckline a little more... flexible."

I wasn't sure what he meant until his hands came up to pull the neckline apart, stretching the fabric over my breasts, which pushed them up a little. I laughed again then, as he went down with ease and an eagerness that both amused me and turned me on. His lips attached to my right nipple while the other he gently pinched at with his fingers. My laughter slowly dissolved into a soft sigh and my eyes fluttered shut, my fingers finding sweet purchase in his mop of curls.

He left marks all along my chest, taking his time with each inch of skin until he was satisfied enough to come up and start doing the same to my neck. I was already getting antsy now, his very attentive mouth more than enough to make my lower half boil with need, even though he wasn't near it at all.

Though, as soon as the thought crossed my head, his knee came up and brushed up against my naked arousal. He caught the gasp I let out with his mouth as he slotted it over mine and gently encouraged my tongue to meet his. Meanwhile his left hand traveled down and grazed along the inside of my thigh.

"How patient are you, Kitten?" he mumbled over my lips.

I whined in response, opening my legs and using my hands to pull him in closer by the collar of his shirt. "Not very..."

With a little laugh, he kissed me on the mouth once more and then started his descent.

Truthfully I expected him to tease me more than he did— even when he was being romantic, his snarky tendencies tended to take more of a hold on him, and I had to remind him of the situation at hand. I could tell he was holding back though, hesitant to move on from one inch of my skin to get to the next.

But he'd taken my urgency to heart, finally settling in between my legs and spreading them wide to get a good look at what I had to offer him.

"Oh..." he sighed adoringly, though I sensed a remark coming on from the twitch in his smile.

"I swear to the stars, if you make a pussy joke right now..."

"You really think so little of me?"

"I think you're spoiled, and not above making a stupid joke because you know you won't get penalized for it..."

"And... who's fault is that, Kitten?"

Though his words were generally harmless—just another of his snarky rejoinders—his tone and the way his fingers started to glide through my arousal was anything but. Any comeback I would have had died on my lips the moment his fingertip grazed over my clit. Against his touch, I was helpless.

And the cheeky bastard knew it, too.

"That's what I thought," he mused.

His hand removed itself from my body and I whined. "Spencer..."

He liked when I begged for it. And if I hadn't already known that, it would have been made very clear by the way he leaned down and firmly dragged his tongue along my cunt. I cried out, my muscles relaxing as his movements became methodical and slow, but not torturous. He took his time with me, tasting as much as he could and enjoying himself immensely.

It was safe to say I was feeling the same way.

Once he added his fingers into the mix, I was done for, the heat in my lower belly rising to a boil and pressure starting build as the few rings he had on added a texture that made my pleasure more intense. My hands started to wander, over my breasts, down through the silky sheets he'd thrown on the mattress, into his hair... It was the ultimate tell-tale sign that I was close to the edge.

He took that knowledge of my habits and used it to finally bring me to my first orgasm of the night, quickening his fingers just a smidge while sucking gently on my clit.

His name fell from my lips in a harsh whisper that grew louder with every second, and before I knew it I was crashing. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through my body as Spencer nursed me through each one, until finally I was settled.

But I was nowhere near satiated.

He pulled away and kissed up my body once more, and I almost sat up to help him get his clothes off, but his hand came up to my mouth. And what he wanted from me then suddenly was way more exciting than anything else.

I hummed, wrapping my mouth around the middle finger that had just been inside of me and gliding my tongue along it. The metal of the ring mixed with the bitterness of my arousal created an odd taste that sent butterflies through my stomach. And the look in Spencer's eyes as I cleaned myself off of him only made them spread out further.

He removed his finger from my mouth and then offered me the other, and this time I took the ring off with my teeth, swirling it around my tongue and cleaning it off before sticking it back on.

"Good girl..."

His praise was cut short by the sharp hiss he inhaled as I brought my hand down and palmed his erection.

"I need you, baby, please," I whined, nuzzling my face into his neck and pressing open-mouthed kisses to his skin as my hands tugged at the fabric of his slacks.

"Fuck, Kitten, you weren't kidding," he hissed again as I managed to get him free and started stroking his dick. "Not very patient at all..."

The only thing I gave him in response was a whine, and it was enough to get him going, adjusting himself to slide his pants and underwear all the way off, and then he hiked my legs up over his waist, pushing himself into me as slowly as possible.

We groaned out together, our lips finally connecting once he was all the way there. He held himself still for a moment, reveling in the feel of me around him no doubt, before gently pulling back and then snapping his hips forward again. Our lips stayed connected, trading kisses and whimpers as he began rolling his hips back and forth, each movement like a wave. I already felt a burning in the pit of my stomach that wouldn't take long to spread.

My panting must have given me away, though Spencer surely didn't need them to know when I was getting closer. Regardless, he brought his hands up to tangle with mine, bringing our arms above our heads as he hardened the ministrations of his hips. The speed remained the same, slow and steady, though each new thrust forward seemed to drive me further into the mattress, and in to time it was like I was being dragged under into the depths of the ocean.

I whined into his mouth, squeezing his hands and wrapping my legs around his waist tighter. Even as he pulled back just to go in again, I wanted him close.

"You like how deep I get, Kitten?" he breathed, resting his face into my neck. "Hmmm?"

"Y—Yes," I breathed out in turn. "Yes, baby, yes... I love you..."

His hands squeezed mine then, the hard metal of his rings bruising into my fingers, and I knew he was about to come. I encouraged him with more praises, declarations of love, and in turn he groaned into my neck, grunting out my nickname as he stilled and started to twitch inside me. And then I sighed out as he flooded me with his warmth, my legs clenching around him even harder to keep him where he was.

He jolted his hips a little then, making short, staccato thrusts to fuck it all into me, and that's what took me over the edge a second time. I clenched and fluttered around him, my eyes rolling back at the sharpness of it all until it faded into a dull hum that settled into my bones like the static of the gramophone. I was warm all over, even as Spencer loosened his grip on my hands and slid his own down my forearms, his mouth peppering my neck with kisses.

He started to pull away from me, but I whined, bringing my arms down to hold him close. "Don't you dare move..."

I felt him smile into my neck, and he nipped gently at the skin before returning my demand with a simple, "You sure are bossy today..."

I tossed my head to the side with a laugh, faintly noticing something outside the window that made me stop and smile with something other than amusement.

"It's snowing."

Spencer lifted his head and looked out the window, a small smile spreading over his features as he rolled us over as best as he could without making a mess. "It sure is..."

"I love watching the snow fall," I said wistfully. "It's so... peaceful. Especially at night."

He stroked the side of my face and looked down at me, nudging my nose with his. "I couldn't agree more... What do you say we clean up and watch the snow fall before bed?"

"Can we sleep here?"

Spencer gave me the sweetest kiss on the lips, resting his forehead against mine. "Anything for you, my love."

———

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[queenshelby]

My Friend’s Father (Part Five)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Mild Sexual References

Words: 1,848

Notes:

I have decided to make this into a series.

Alright, no judgment. This was a dream of mine and I felt like I had to write it down. Everyone in this Fic is over the age of 18 and this Fic is in no way based on Cillian’s real family life. It’s pure filth.

 *************************

YOUR POV

Two weeks had passed since you visited your friend Denise in Dublin and it was time for the annual Galway Arts Festival.

Denise had been working on a photography project for the past year and had been nominated for a student award in Galway as part of which ten of her photographs were being displayed during the Arts Festival.

Whilst, as you had expected, Cillian didn’t contact you, you knew that he would be there to support his daughter. Being an artist himself, he was very proud of her and her work and he supported her projects not only mentally but also financially with the caveat that she would finish her degree at Trinity College.

Unlike him, he didn’t want her to drop out of university even though she hated it and you certainly understood his reasoning.

Contrary to Denise, you had no creative bone in your body. You enjoyed art and theatre, but weren’t an artist or performer yourself. Instead, you were an A Grade Law Student who had become rather bored in Galway and had recently applied for a scholarship to Oxford University.

Reading was your passion and you had always been known as a geek. In school, you were the girl that no one liked, nerdy, not interested in fashion or social media and wearing braces, which, luckily, had been removed three years ago.

You were shy and it was only for Denise that you came out of your shell. She was popular in school, mostly due to her name, but also because she was generally confident and, over the years, she helped you gain confidence especially after you had left high school.

But, today, you knew you would be questioning your gained confidence once again since, first of all, you would be seeing Cillian again and the truth was that you couldn’t stop thinking about him in an intimate way and, secondly, you were featured completely naked on some of Denise’s photographs.

Whilst the photographs were artistic and not sexual in any way and your most intimate part wasn’t visible on them, it bothered you knowing that people you disliked would see you so vulnerable and you couldn’t remember why you had agreed to being photographed like that.

The other woman who Denise chose to photograph was Amalie. She was 23 and had been Denise’s friend for a while as well but, unlike you, she began modelling professionally when she was just 16. You all went to the same private school together and, clearly, her lifestyle had been largely financed by her parents. She always wore expensive clothes and had no interest in pursuing a career other than modelling, which barely sustained her lifestyle considering the few small jobs she got.

***

Just as you served your last cup of coffee to an elderly lady sitting in the corner of the café you were working at, you saw Denise, Amalie and two other friends of Denise walk in.

‘Hey guys, take a seat. I will be right with you. I am just about to finish my shift’ you said as you hung up your apron.

‘Please tell me you will get changed before the Gallery opening tonight?’ Amalie asked somewhat weirdly and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you sat down at the table with her, Denise and the others before ordering some coffees for yourselves.

‘No, I thought I would go like this’ you said sarcastically, looking down at your coffee-stained clothes.

‘I bought a dress for tonight’ you then said, after Amalie didn’t seem to sense your sarcasm.

‘Right’ she then said as she flicked through Instagram and you simply looked at Denise who shrug her shoulders.

‘What are you looking for?’ you asked curiously as her eyes seemed to be glued to her phone.

‘She is looking to find more photos of my dad and Laura Jennings’ Denise said, rolling her eyes.

‘Laura Jennings, as in the actress?’ you asked, causing Amalie to nod.

‘Yes, apparently they have been dating’ Amalie then confirmed, causing you to swallow harshly. You knew that you shouldn’t care but you couldn’t help it. Knowing that Cillian was seeing someone made you feel ill.  

‘And you care about that why?’ you then asked Amalie after an uncomfortable shiver ran down your spine.

‘Apparently, just like you, Amalie thinks my dad is a DILF’ Denise huffed out before telling you how disgusting you all were.

‘Well, he is though…he is super hot’ Amalie then joked before carrying on. ‘And I don’t understand how you don’t know about Laura Jennings and whether this is true or not. You need to find out’ Amalie then said but Denise simply shook her head.

‘My father doesn’t share this sort of stuff with me and I certainly don’t want to know about his sex life, thank you very much. In so far as I am concerned, he doesn’t have sex, ever…yuck! Also, I would appreciate if you could not talk about my dad anymore, please. It grosses me out’ Denise said and you knew that, all of this had become a common occurrence ever since the day the first episode of Peaky Blinders aired on BBC, a show which Denise refuses to watch herself because of the heavy sexual content and a show which you, only a week ago, had begun to binge watch.

Cillian’s POV

When Cillian walked into the basement after you had left, he immediately saw the small folded up note you had left him but, reading it, made him somewhat uncomfortable.

He was torn about what to do with it and certainly knew that he should ignore it. He couldn’t see you again even if he wanted to.

The fact that you were 23 years younger than him and that you were his daughter’s best friend made it all wrong and highly inappropriate and he didn’t know what had gotten into him in the first place when he gave into you.

He had never felt attracted towards you in any sort of way until that last visit which was the first time had seen you since you and your family had moved away.

You changed in many ways and he wasn’t sure what it was that he liked about you. But what he knew was that it was more than just sexual attraction, which was usually something he knew how to supress.

With that in mind, he placed your note into his wallet and decided to ignore it for now. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to throw it out.

***

With his bags packed it was time for him to return to Manchester and resume filming of the final season of Peaky Blinders.

The first week of filming went well and Cillian decided to spend the weekend with his friend, fellow actress Laura Jennings. Cillian and her had developed a friend with benefits sort of relationship. No strings attached and no feelings involved. After his divorce from Denise’s mother, he wasn’t ready for anything else and Laura would certainly not have been the type of woman he would have wanted a relationship with in the first place.

Unlike him, she wasn’t press shy and, whilst they kept their arrangement a secret as best as they could, she was otherwise quite active on social media.

Cillian, on the other hand, only maintained a private Instagram account with the sole purpose of being able to check on his children. Whilst they were adults, he was still worried about them, especially Denise who had recently gotten herself in a lot of trouble after distancing herself from this Jeremy boy.

***

‘Another wine?’ Laura asked as Cillian was relaxing on top of the doonas, wearing nothing but his black Calvin Klein briefs, after they had spent the last hour doing exactly what friends with benefits would do after not having seen each other for over two weeks due to busy filming schedules.

‘Yes please…thanks’ he responded as he reached for his phone after a notification had popped up.

It was his daughter Denise who had posted on Instagram and, since she hadn’t posted for a while, he decided to check it out, hoping that she wasn’t with Jeremy again.

To his surprise, three new pictures of Denise and her friends showed up when he opened the APP and, one of them, there was you.

In the picture, you were wearing accompanied by a man in his late twenties, wearing a suit while you were wearing a dark blue dress and he couldn’t help but wonder who the man by your side was.

You looked simply stunning, with your hair long and open and your shoulders exposed. You were wearing only a little bit of make up and showed your beautiful smile.  

‘There you go Mr Murphy’ Laura then said as she returned to the bedroom with another glass of wine, pulling Cillian’s phone out of his hand and climbing on top of him.

‘Round Two?’ she then asked eagerly as she reached for another condom, but Cillian’s thoughts were elsewhere entirely.

‘Maybe tomorrow, I am tired. It has been a long week, sorry’ he explained, causing Laura to pout with disappointment.

But the second round never eventuated as Cillian left Laura’s house the following morning to drive back to Manchester to resume filming.

On his way back to Manchester, he called his daughter Denise to check on her and while he did, he enquired about your companion on the Instagram posts.

‘Why do you want to know?’ Denise asked somewhat confused but Cillian played it cool.

‘He looks familiar, that’s all. Didn’t he go to your school?’ he then asked, playing dumb.

‘Oh god no, he is 29. His name is Connor and he is an accountant. Y/N wouldn’t date anyone our age. You know she isn’t a normal 21-year-old’ Denise joked, referring to your nerdiness and intellect.

‘Apparently not’ Cillian chuckled before asking another question about the stranger on the picture. ‘So, they are dating?’ he asked.

‘I think they went on two or three dates or something. Why do you care?’ Denise asked.

‘No reason. I was just wondering’ Cillian confirmed before changing the topic.

   Tag List:

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@peaky-cillian​

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[wiypt-writes]

Consciousness Of Guilt

Chapter 1

Summary: It’s a year since Ransom was murdered, and you’re settling well into your new life in Boulder. It hasn’t just provided you with a fresh start-it’s brought you a new sense and purpose, an appreciation for the things you took fore grated, and the friendship of a former ADA…

Warnings: Bad Language, allusions to past abuse (Non Con/Dub Con) but nothing explicitly described in this chapter.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

W/C: 5k

Consciousness Of Guilt Masterlist // Main Masterlist

A/N- So, here it is! The sequel to Murder, He Wrote . This is the last time I’ll post this note, however, please be aware that the prequel is a Dark series. Whilst this is not, it will contain flashbacks and themes as we progress, however nothing will be as dark as MHW. Chapters will be clearly labelled with appropriate warnings. If anyone is uncomfortable with the themes of a certain chapter, I will be more than happy to post/provide abridged versions which will not deviate from the storyline.

Sunrise. You used to hate the coming of each day. It meant another monotonous day in your young adult life. A 'depends on the day' type of job at the paper in which you got your start, it meant earning little for the slave work you put into each piece or research. It meant another day you'd woken up in fear, not knowing what was coming next. Then, for a little while, sunrises were okay. They were a soft glow across the room, illuminating hard lines and soft curves, whispering words and lingering kisses. And then, they became fearful again, bringing the unpredictable nature of a life in which you were trapped.

But now, over the last few months, since taking up your new hobby, sunrise had become a beautiful thing. The feeling of peace and comfort washing over you like a warm rain, bringing the redeeming nature of a new day as vibrant watercolours paint the new-born sky. Whether you caught it from the East side of your condo; your master balcony and study or your garden, or even your hikes, you appreciated every, single sunrise as if you were seeing it for the first time ever, each and every day.

For this morning's sunrise, you were perched along Boulder Creek Path, a trail that runs from the foothills to across town, a typical recreational getaway for many locals and tourists. You looked out over the bridge as the creek flowed beneath your feet. You were lost in the serenity of it, the bubbling water lulling your mind into a deep mediation that washed peacefulness through your entire body.

A year ago today, your life changed and you were freed. Free of the nightmare that had plagued you, robbing you of nearly a year of your life. The months that followed weren't so easy, but once things settled and the fires were extinguished, you found peace.

You found you.

Your phone buzzing in your pocket brought you back from your reverie, pressing your thumb onto the screen to unlock it. You opened your messages tab and tapped the most recent incoming text.

A smile flicked on your face as you slipped your phone back in your pocket. It didn’t escape your knowledge how Andy didn’t need to even ask what coffee you wanted. But then again, this wasn’t the first time you’d had breakfast in the small, independent coffee place not far from your home and place of work. You knew when you arrived that a large caramel vanilla latte, with an extra shot would be waiting. But no food, your order varied depending on your mood.

Twenty minutes or so later, you parked your sting-grey Jeep Grand Cherokee SRT 4x4 back in your garage to your condo at the corner of 9th and Pine Street and set off on the short ten minute walk to your designated meeting place, centred near the town square, not far from your office which was a gorgeous old red-brick building on the corner of 16th and Walnut Street.

As you approached, you didn’t spot Andy’s black Audi TT in any of the spaces littered around but it didn’t bother you. Barber was reliable, if he said he was going to be there, he’d be there.

And sure enough, as you walked along the side of the cafe you, spotted him at your usual, preferred table by the large window, overlooking the street. He saw you approaching and smiled, giving a small wave.

The smell of roast coffee beans, baked treats and other delicious aromas hit your senses as you opened the door. You approached the table and Andy stood up to great you, smiling. A light grey tee sat exposed under a partially zipped up light weight blue leathered hoodie whilst dark and crisp denim covered his narrow hips and long legs, his go to well-worn black work boots on his feet. His hair was styled and soft looking, his beard always trimmed and neat. He gave you a strong, yet gentle hug, a juxtaposition he managed effortlessly before he turned and waited for you to sit first before he took up his previous seat, nodding to your waiting drink.

“Thank you.” You beamed at him, taking a quick sip. "Of course." He smiled as he took a drink of his own coffee, straight black, before he leaned back a little. His left arm rested over the back of the booth bench, the platinum of his wedding ring catching the early morning sun which streamed through the window. You momentarily glanced at your own hand, bare of the heavy rings which had been taken in the ‘mugging’. Mind you, you wouldn’t be wearing them even if you still had them. Your story was a lot different to his.

“So, where'd you go this morning?" his soft baritone drifted across the table and you glanced back at him. "Fiddled around down Boulder Creek Path." "You seem to be getting around better now." "Yeah, thank God for GPS. Did I tell you that last week I was looking for some store Amber vaguely told me where about it was and ending up like thirty minutes down the highway towards Denver." He laughed, his whole body smiling, radiating genuine amusement. "You have more faith in GPS than me, when I first moved here I got pulled over for going the wrong way down a one way street because it told me to.” You grinned as he shook his head. "And that annoying voice! I want to wring her damn neck." You gave a chuckle but before you could reply, the middle-aged woman, who owned the café, interrupted you both with her usual familiar greeting and the smile she reserved for Andy. “Hey Patti, how are ya?” He smiled back. “Same old, same old.” She winked back. “What can I get you kids today?” “Y/N?” Andy looked at you and you smiled. “Can I get an almond croissant and a granola pot, please? With the blueberry compote.” “Sure honey, and for you Mr Barber?”

“French toast please, all the trimmings.”

A fizzing filled your ears as you were suddenly back on a clinically clean, modern kitchen, nervously scouring a fridge and cupboards for something to make your captor breakfast with. You swallowed, taking a deep breath, counting backwards from five as you always did to keep the memory from swallowing you.

“Hey,” a gentle touch to your hand jolted you back and you looked at Andy who frowned. “You okay?” "Yeah, no, I mean yes, I'm okay. It just…it dawned me this morning that this was the best thing I could have done for myself. Like there's just a newfound peace that's settled with me, you know?" He just smiled as he squeezed your hand before slipping his away. “Yeah, I do.” No more was said about it, and Andy didn’t press. He never did. In the eight weeks or so that had passed since you’d met him that Friday evening in the bar, the pair of you had struck up a friendship that was based on a mutual understanding. You both carried a heavy burden of a traumatic past on your shoulders, but you had an unspoken rule. He had never mentioned Ransom. And you, in turn, never broached the subject of Laurie or Jacob. You understood you were both moving on with your life, both wanting to heal from the past and you wanted to spend the rest of your life never in fear again. Instead, a simple chatter always flowed between the two of you, and today was no exception. You barely stopped to thank Patti for dropping your order off at the table. Current work was never a topic of conversation, although office gossip featured on occasion, but mostly it was always about happenings around town, him asking about you, your parents and your old job, the two of you talking about your favourite places in Boston. You never missed certain facial and eye cues Andy gave off at the mention of certain things, but when you saw them, that sag in his smile or the far off look his eyes would give, you'd change the subject. You ate in comfortable companionship and after another coffee, Andy asked for the bill and then pulled out his card to pay. "Next one is on me, you paid for the last two and coffee all this week." You gave him a stern look as you headed towards the exit. “Well, if you wanted you could grab us a beer later.” He shrugged, pulling the door handle to open it, allowing you to step out before him. “I gotta nip into the office for a coupla hours but...” "Breakfast AND drinks?" You smiled as he fell into step beside you. The July day was starting to warm a little now, the slight chill of the early morning all but gone. “If I didn't know any better, I'd say you actually like hanging out with me." “Well, I wouldn’t go that far. I just find you slightly less irritating than everything and everyone else.” He teased and you laughed. “So... Happy hour?" "Yeah." You nodded “It's a date." Andy confirmed and you quirked your eyebrow, trying not to laugh at the look on his face as he realised what he had said. “A date?” “Well, I don’t mean a date date but...” You felt the heat in your neck a little, so to save your embarrassment and his blushes, you smiled, "it's a date-not-date. Say Oskar’s, 6:30?" "Oskar’s." He confirmed. "I'll save you a tall, cold one." “You’re an angel, you know that?” "I wouldn't go that far. My halo is held up by horns” “Even Prometheus was an angel at some point, Y/N.” He replied as you reached the corner of the street where you would part. Him towards the office, you back home. You rolled your eyes and shook your head. "I'll see you tonight." At that he gave you another quick hug, his hand rubbing your back over the top of your light jacket before you headed your separate ways.

You enjoyed the walk home. It gave you the perfect chance to just mellow out and walk off a bit of your breakfast. You tucked your hands into the pockets for your vest, your white thermal keeping your arms covered. You headed down Pearl Street, watching as the little shops and boutiques began to set up their patios and side walk spaces for their Saturday. You took in the clean fresh mountain air deep into your lungs and allowed a warm smile to cross your lips. 

From Pearl to 9th you went, hooking a right up 9th until you walked to the corner of Pine, and onto the porch of the nice and spacious condo you closed escrow on just weeks ago. 

That deep feeling of home greeted you as you stepped inside, wiping your boots on your door mat just before kicking them off and setting them by the back door you’d come through. The cream walls invited you in, the oak furniture and fixtures, a feature that reminded you of home, the decor you grew up with, a safe place. 

You'd bought the condo outright with the money you'd inherited from Ransom's untimely death and subsequent estate. You knew before you'd even stepped foot into the property initially, that it'd become yours. The week you closed escrow, you and your parents moved you into the three bedroom, three and a half bath condo, never looking back. 

The open floor plan and panoramic views had stolen your breath and it was then, the first night your parents had left you alone, too anxious to sleep alone, you had fallen in love with the sunrise, seeing it from your front garden patio, bundled up with tea and a wool blanket. All three rooms in the space had no adjoining walls and their own en-suites. The master bedroom, your room, was massive. An en-suite with walk in shower, soaking tub and Jack and Jill sinks. Two walk in closets that you knew you'd probably never fill completely, an Eastwardly view and balcony. The two spare rooms, were separated, one on the second floor down the hall from yours where it's balcony looked West, as it were above the garage and the third on the top and final floor with its own balcony. That was your office space, a spot for you to work and to breathe in the fresh air. 

Everything in that condo was yours, down to the logs you'd put in your fireplace and the silly little amenities you'd given yourself from knickknacks to the colour of your dishes. There was one space however you left untouched. And only your parents had been inside to pack away your unused things as storage space. That room was your basement. You didn't need to go down there, you figured if you needed something from there, you'd go buy it anyway. All that was truly stored down there anyway were things from your childhood your mother insisted on you bringing along.

As if her ears were burning, your phone buzzed from your back pocket, revealing your mother calling. 

"Hey, Mom." You answered. 

"Hi, honey. I was just calling to see how you were doing. Check in on you." You could hear the worry in her voice and you couldn't help but smile. 

"I'm really good, Mom. It’s been good here." "You still hiking every day?" She sounded hopeful now.  "Lately it's just been on the weekends. I've been really busy at work, which isn't exactly a bad thing either." You had made your way to your room, looking for some lounge pants to change into while you continued your conversation.  "Well, busy is a blessing. Do you have anything planned for today or...."  "Uh, well I just had breakfast with a friend from work who I'm also meeting for drinks later." You smirked at the thought.  There was a joyful sigh that poured into your ear from the ear piece, "Oh, this friend wouldn’t happen to be the mysterious Andy you’ve name dropped the last few calls would it?"  You hesitated, "y..ye...yeah." Then you heard the tell-tale sound of your mother's chuckle. “We’re just friends.” "I'm not saying anything." You could picture her with her hands held up in defence. "You sound happy." “I am. I feel okay, more than okay even. I’m good.” "Alright. Well, don’t waste your day. Enjoy it. Your dad and I will talk soon." “Yeah, listen Mom, why don’t you come over for a few days in a couple of weeks? You’ve not been since the week you came to help me move in. It would be nice to show you round now I’ve got my bearings.” "We would love that. I'll have your father look at booking some time." “Okay just let me know. Tell Daddy I said hi.” "I will, sweetie. Love you, bye.” "I love you too, Mom, bye." The seventeenth of July, a date that you hope one day will come to mean nothing and be like any other day. But for now, it was a sting that reminded you of all that had happened. Not unlike Halloween, a day in which you'll forever hold in a fearful anxious place in your soul. It served as a reminder of the moment your life had taken a very dark turn, a darkness that you were still, in a lot of ways, finding your way through. Ransom. His name still tasted sour on your tongue. But left a sadness over your heart like a sheer curtain. You had truly hoped he wasn't going to revert back to the beast that held you captive. But you were wrong, and post the revelation of the real reason he had taken you, he’d been far more brutal and cruel than he had with you before, something you’d thought was impossible. And he’d broken you for a second time, or so you’d let him think. Desperate to escape his clutches, you’d done the only thing you could- you’d killed him. Whilst you may not have held the knife, you’d arranged it all. And, even though it had been an absolute last resort, you’d be lying if you said there hadn’t been a satisfaction to watching him bleed out and choke on his own blood. The realisation that had clouded his arrogantly handsome features as he came to understand it was your doing would be forever etched into your brain. That said, it made you feel a little bit queasy when you thought about how taking someone’s life could make you feel a sick sense of pleasure. The nightmares had plagued you for months after. The torture which sleep brought you only ceased around the time things were settled within the system between you and his parents. With a deep sigh and the need for distraction, you set about some spot cleaning in between loads of laundry and by early afternoon you had settled in on your couch with a beer and your latest box set binge. Not two episodes in and your phone pinged next to you.

With a smirk, you snapped a photo of your beer bottle in your hand and a few moments later his response came through.

The angel made you laugh, a direct reference to his teasing before. But before you could reply, you got another text with simply saying “fuck it” along with a picture of a tumblr of whiskey on his desk. With a snort you replied

With a smile you tossed your phone down onto the seat beside you, and resumed your watching.

***** Andy was kidding when he playfully said he'd be there by 6:45, fully intending on their agreed upon 6:30. But, he was late. He'd been so involved with his brief that he'd lost track, and for the first time since meeting her, was late for a meet up with Y/N. She was fully understanding as he'd text her apologizing for the time as he'd rushed out of the office and quickly headed for Pearl Street. He'd gotten very lucky with close parking and literally stepped inside Oskar's Taproom promptly at 6:45. He found Y/N sitting at the bar, her hair down, a nicely fitted black tee and skinny denim jeans, her foot tapping against her bar stool in waiting. Next to her was an empty stool and a full, cold looking tall pilsner on the bar, saving his space.

"Hey," he said as he leaned into her, a gentle hand on her back, getting her attention.

Y/N startled a bit but realized it was Andy and grinned, "'bout time! I was going to get started on yours without you." She nodded to the cold beer.  “I’m so sorry.” He shook his head, “I just got caught up.” "Well, you haven't stood me up yet, so I trusted you'd show." “And I did tell you 6:45 before. You know, on account of you being a cheeky little shit.” She rolled her eyes at him, "whatever." She smirked. He slid onto the stool next to her and took a long pull of his beer, damned it tasted good. He gave an appreciative sigh and turned to her. “So, do anything much this afternoon?” "I did absolutely nothing, well nothing of importance. Talked to my mom, did laundry, you know nothing exciting." “To be honest, sounds like a pretty good afternoon.” He chuckled. “Sometimes there’s nothing better than laying in front of the TV with no where you have to be.” "Cheers to that," she raised her glass to him. He clinked his with hers and returned the smile she had. The blues band that was set to play happy hour was starting to tune up and it gave Andy an idea. "What do you say we find a spot in the patio, little less noise." “Sounds good.” She nodded. Andy flagged the bartender down for another round to take with them. But before Y/N could pick up her glass, Andy took it for her and gestured with her head for her to go on in front. She looked a little surprised at his act of basic good manners, and not for the first time. He'd often seen her look at him in a similar way when he held doors open for her or helped her with her jacket. It made him wonder what kind of asshole Drysdale had been. But, then again, he got the impression it hadn’t been a particularly happy relationship to start. Not that it was any of his business, nor was he one to talk. The last seven months he’d been married to Laurie had been as strained as they'd ever got. They found a spot at a two top near the corner of the patio at the gate that separated it from the sidewalk. Andy waited for Y/N to sit before he set their glasses on the high top table and took his own seat. "So...much better," he leaned in across the table. "Love this place, but it's not always the best for conversation." “Yeah but it has a good atmosphere.” She smiled. “I like it. Not the type of place that-“ she stopped dead and took a deep breath. “Doesn’t matter.” He half smiled, "you know, I've been meaning to tell you, it's okay to talk to me about anything you want. No pressure, no strings. Just a friendly ear." She smiled. “I know, thanks. And the same goes for you too.” For the first time, an interesting silence came between them. They each sipped their drinks in an almost a mirrored like fashion and chuckled when through. "I think that's the first time we've ever not had something to say." Y/N shrugged. He nodded, and then she took a deep breath. “I was just gonna say its not the type of place Ransom would ever have taken me. He’d have thought it beneath him.” "I think that's the first time you've ever mentioned his name." He pointed out. "Yeah, I try not to. It's uh," he watched her as she struggled to start her story, playing nervously with the earring in her ear. "Complicated." He leaned on the table, his forearms crossed and supporting his weight. He wanted her to know she had his full attention. “Well, from what I know about him, which granted is only what I saw on the news or heard around Boston, he certainly enjoyed the finer things in life.” "That's one way of looking at." She chuckled dryly. "It wasn't an easy marriage, despite how short lived." "Well, I was with Laurie since law school and we still had our ups and downs. I don't think marriage is easy in general." Andy admitted. "I was with Ransom less than nine months before we got married. It, uh, lasted three weeks."

Andy paused, “okay, so granted Laurie and I were a whirlwind what with her falling pregnant so fast but... I’ll give you that one.” “A whirlwind?” She asked and Andy nodded. “Yeah, we hadn’t even been together a year when she got pregnant with Jake. Not gonna lie, I shit myself but...” he sighed, swallowing. “Well, he was worth it.” "I'm sure he was." She nodded. Andy cleared his throat. “He was a good kid, despite what he, well what he was accused of.” “I can’t even begin to imagine how that felt, for any of you.” She said gently. “Fucking shit.” He said bluntly. She blinked and then the pair of them laughed quietly. "I'm sorry, Andy. And I mean that in all sincerity." He sighed and gave a soft little smile. “Thanks. You know, for the most part it’s just happy memories. But then sometimes it’s hard...” he trailed off shaking his head, “but of course you’ll know that.” “Suppose so.” She shrugged. “I doubt our marriage was anything near as loving as yours. I, uh...well, Ransom was mentally abusive, very controlling. Getting married wasn't exactly what I'd wanted but, I felt trapped in a way." She paused as he listened intently. "I guess it's harder to explain than I thought." She bit her lip and then shook her head. “Then the asshole went and got himself killed.” "I hate that you had to witness that." She shrugged and her finger swiped at the condensation on the outside of her half empty beer glass. “It was a year ago today.” “Jesus fucking Christ.” Andy shook his head in shock as he took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry.” “I’m not.” She sighed. “And I know that probably sounds awful but... I don’t mourn him, I can’t. Not after everything. I’m just glad to be away and out of it. Fuck, that makes me sound like a really cold hearted bitch.” She scrunched her nose and chuckled a bit. Andy cocked his head to one side, studying her face which was, despite what she said, laced with sadness and he took a deep breath. There was more to her story than she was telling him, he could see that, but he had his own secrets too. And he found himself realising he didn’t care. Moving away post the accident that claimed Jake and later Laurie’s life had been a way for him to leave all that shit behind. And she was trying to do the same. “Okay, let’s make a deal.” He leaned forward. “No reverse gear. We look forward and not back, at least not at the hard stuff.” It took a moment for her to process it, and Andy watched her expression behind her eyes as he did so. Then she smiled, "deal." Andy smiled as she reached for her beer. He watched her pretty face as she drained her glass, setting it down in the table before she leaned towards him. “Have you eaten? Because I’ve suddenly got a hankering for something greasy and very bad for me.” “Sounds like someone I used to work with.” Andy shot before he could stop himself and Y/N threw her head back in a loud laugh. “Lawyers for you.” “Hey, not all of us are jerks.” He pouted and she shrugged. “Jury’s out.” She winked. At that Andy raised his brows, downed the rest of his pint and then stood up. “Something dirty and greasy that isn’t an attorney coming up, I’ll grab us a menu.” They each ordered a greasy, filthy cheeseburger with all the fixings and two smaller beers a piece to go with it. They moved their conversation away from their pasts and talked music as the band played some songs they were familiar with. Y/N finding the perfect moment to joke with Andy again about his age versus hers, despite it being maybe seven or eight years. Neither seemed to mind.  Again, when the bill came, Andy slapped his card down before Y/N even had a chance to grab her wallet, which caused him to laugh loudly at her pout. “You’ll just have to get it next time.” “Oh," she smirked, "so that’s your game? You paid, so I owe you a next time?” He shrugged. “Would that be such a bad thing?” She bit her lip and grinned with a shake of her head. “No, not really.” “Good, I’ll hold you to that. And, as a lawyer I feel obliged to tell you that’s a legally recognised verbal contract.” “Uh, I’m sure there’s a rule that a social agreement made between friends is done so without an intention of being enforceable.” Y/N shot back and Andy felt his mouth curl up on a little surprised smirk. “Therefore no intent, no legal comeback. Your move, Counselor.” He laughed and shook his head. “Nope, I got nothing.” “In that case, I call recess.” She grinned. “Oh faahk off with the legal puns!” Andy snorted and once more she laughed as they stood up, their night at an end. He walked behind Y/N with a gentle hand on her back as she weaved through the tables on the patio, eventually ending up on the sidewalk out front.

"Thanks, for breakfast, dinner, drinks," Y/N shook her head, feigning annoyance. Andy smirked, "thanks for meeting me. You're not walking home are you?" "I can, it's not far." She replied, folding her arms over her chest.

"Absolutely not, I'll take you," he nodded his head in the direction in which his car was. He gave a small wink when she accepted his offer. He held the door open for you as you slid into the passenger seat of his Audi TT. You quickly realized that this was the first time you'd been in his car and the very first time he would see your doorstep. However, the thought of both those things didn't bother you one bit. In fact, you found yourself more comfortable than you'd expected.

All in all the drive was no more than five minutes, and if he hadn’t been going that way already, you’d have felt like a complete fraud, but he assured you it was on his way.

You helped yourself out but Andy waited for you around the front hood and walked you to your doorstep, lit by the lantern porch light your Home Owners Association contract insisted be up. "So, this is me," you sighed. Andy had his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans and he rocked a little on his heels as he waited for you to open your front door. When you'd opened it, he scratched behind his neck and said, "so I'll see you Monday?" "Yeah," you agreed. He turned to go but you called out to him, "Hey, Andy?" He quickly turned back to you, his one foot on your stoop, the other the next step down, "yeah?" In a sudden moment of courage, you stood on your toes and placed a soft kiss to his cheek. His smooth cheek and the slightly rough yet softer than anticipated scratch of those dark whiskers, intermittent speckled with auburn, felt amazing against your lips. And fuck, did he smell amazing. Which you knew already from the tight and friendly hugs he'd seemed to start giving you. The first hit of his aftershave was always the same, dominated by a white-out of bergamot and pepper, a bright flash of sweet, dewy citrus that is both crisp and clean, underpinned by a freshness that was both light and gentle and completely different to the heavy sandalwood based fragrance you’d grown so used to. It was brief, but when you pulled back, you gave a content huff, “Huh.” “What?” He was clearly puzzled. “Your beard. It’s kinda soft.” “What? What the hell did you expect?” He laughed. “I dunno, maybe a toilet brush type bristle.” “You kiss a lot of toilet brushes Y/N?” “Try not to.” She winked. “Thanks again, Andy. I enjoyed today.” He chuckled and shook his head as he watched you turn back to your door and finally stepped inside your home. Before you closed the door, you turned back, noticing he was watching you go in. "Bye."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

**** Chapter 2

[clusterfuck-misc]

WRITING2SIRVIVE ASKS:

Hi there, Love! I saw you write for some of my favorite Dc characters. If it’s not too much trouble could you write something with Dick. Please.

DICK GRAYSON IS THE BEST ROBIN AND YOU CAN QUOTE ME ON THAT.

Yandere Dick Grayson x Reader

This is in HC format.

The reader is gender neutral.

Content warning: PDA, technical non-consensual touching, clinginess, light stalking, manipulation, jealousy.

ARCHIVED POST. @clusterfuck-yandere IS MY NEW BLOG.

PLEASE DO NOT SEND REQUESTS ON THIS BLOG.

— When you first met him, you noticed how he was a touchy-feely kind of guy.

And I mean a very touchy-feely kind of guy.

“Richard Grayson,” he introduced himself as he slung an arm around your shoulder. “But everyone calls me Dick.”

It didn’t bother you at first. In fact, you barely even noticed it.

There were a lot of people at this college who were touchy-feely people.

Hands patting your shoulder, hugs, high fives, you were used to it by now.

But you soon realized that Dick took it an extra step.

He would always guide you through crowds with his hand on your back.

Or greet you with a hug and continue to keep half a hold on you.

Or talk with other students with an arm around your form.

You didn’t mind it too much. It’s just that it felt too… affectionate for a friendly gesture.

Despite that, you decided to brush it off as Dick being Dick.

He did this with everyone, right?

— It didn’t start to bother you until people asked if you two were dating.

Other people on campus aren’t blind to how Dick touches you.

They see the hand on your back, or the hug that lasts too long, or the arm around your waste.

So, it was only natural that they began to ask.

The answer was no, obviously.

You would probably remember if you were dating someone, after all.

But Dick always beats you to answering;

“Maybe we are, maybe we aren’t.”

“Top secret information.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

It caught you off guard when he first started doing that.

Sure, it wasn’t a definite yes…

But it wasn’t a definite no, either.

Maybe that was just his way of joking around.

Besides, you can easily hear the teasing tone of his voice.

The more he did it, however, the more you weren’t so sure…

— On a completely unrelated note, that acrobatic vigilante has been spotted around outside your dorm on several occasions.

You’ve seen posts about it all the time from other students.

“OMG, this can’t be real, is Nightwing really at our college campus???”

“I SWEAR I JUST SAW NIGHTWING ON THE ROOF OF THE DORMS ACROSS FROM MINE.”

“Okay, this sounds crazy, but I think me and my roommate saw Nightwing while we were walking back from theatre practice.”

Half of the comments are just “I don’t believe any of this,” or “this is totally fake.”

And, if you were being honest, you agreed.

What business would Nightwing have at a college campus?

… Unless he was a student…?

You shook your head at the thought.

Yeah, right. You’ve seen a lot of crazy shit happen (especially considering that one train wreck of a city call Gotham was only an hour away), but Nightwing being a student at your college was a bit of a stretch.

Even so, you couldn’t help but wonder what he would major in if he actually did.

Just a little harmless fun to think about, right?

Then a picture of Nightwing apparently gets posted on Instagram.

“WHAT THE FUCK,” the caption read. “I THOUGHT THE NIGHTWING RUMORS WERE FAKE, BUT THEN I SAW SOMEONE ON THE ROOF OF ONE OF THE DORMS AND?? IT’S HIM??”

The picture’s really zoomed in, but you could faintly make out a masked figure clad in a black suit with blue accents.

Nightwing’s the talk of the entire campus for weeks.

“Do you think it’s photoshopped?”

“It HAS to be. There’s no way that’s real… right?”

“Wouldn’t it be fuckin’ crazy if Nightwing — THE Nightwing — actually goes to the same college as us??”

Eventually, people lost interest in the topic. It died out after a while and things returned to normal.

That is, until one fateful morning, when your roommate violently woke you up.

“(Y/N), you are NOT going to believe this.”

And they were right.

Because on the screen of their phone was a picture of Nightwing looking into one of the dorm room windows.

The caption read, “I KNOW THIS SOUNDS TOTALLY MADE UP, BUT I WAS HANGING AROUND THE DORMS THAT NIGHTWING IS SAID TO BE SPOTTED AT AND I ACTUALLY FOUND HIM. WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK.”

“My dearest homeslice…” you groggily began, “you don’t actually believe this shit, do you—?”

“Shut up for a moment and look at just which dorm room he’s looking into,” they demanded.

So, you did.

The picture was of the east side of your dorm building.

And he just so happened to be looking into…

“Is that… our room?”

“It is,” your roommate answered. “If this is real, then—”

“Nightwing’s being a creep and looking into our room,” you chortled. “And that’s if it’s real.”

“You never know,” your roommate shrugged.

A laugh came from you as you laid back down on your bed. “Guess you’re right… you never know.”

— One interesting night would leave you a little more open minded to this Nightwing talk.

Your roommate had gone out to party with a couple of friends 30 minutes prior.

They invited you to come, but you didn’t really feel up for it.

So, you found yourself on your laptop all alone in your dorm room.

You were used to moments like these; all alone while your more extroverted roommate was out.

It gave you time to recharge your social batteries.

A feint thunk on your window made you jump slightly.

What the hell?

Did a bird hit it or something?

No, birds create a way louder noise.

But a measly little moth couldn’t do something like that, either.

So, pausing your show, you looked over at your window…

… To see a masked figure hovering over it.

…

The two of you stared at each other for a solid 30 seconds.

That gave you enough time to get over your shock and notice the symbol on his chest.

Nightwing.

Holy shit.

Were the rumors actually true?

Was Nightwing actually hanging around your college??

And staring into your window??

As soon as you blinked, however, he was gone.

You had your face against the window as you looked everywhere, but he was out of sight.

… Did you actually see that..?!

That was real, right?

Or were you just imaging things?

But… it felt so real…

Then again, maybe you needed to catch up on some sleep…

— The day after, Dick becomes way more clingy.

Touchy-feely turned into always keeping a hand on you.

And you almost didn’t notice; he was always a pretty handsy guy.

But then a friend of yours pointed it out.

“Did something happen between you and Dick?”

You were confused. “No…?”

“Well, he’s just been… uh… well… he can’t keep his hands off you. And more than usual.” They suggestive rose an eyebrow. “Did you guys… y’know?”

“I… don’t, no…”

They deadpanned at you. “… Right…”

Although they kind of lost you near the end of that, you realized they were right; he really can’t keep his hands off you… and more than usual.

He grabs your wrist when you walk side by side across campus.

He has a hand on your thigh whenever you two and your friends are out at some cafe or restaurant.

He’s even started to lay his head in your lap when lectures are too boring for him.

It’s all… way too affectionate.

Especially considering you were only friends.

There was that one time he pulled you into a hug from behind — arms resting around your waste and his chin on your shoulder — while you were trying to talk to your professor about something important.

“Dick… can you not right now..?”

“Pretend I’m not even here.”

You ignored your professor as she mumbled something about getting a room.

— He gets defensive when you bring up his behavior.

No matter how lightly you try to phrase it (“Dick, you’ve been a little… handsy… lately”), an incredulous look will find its way on his face.

“Okay… and?”

He makes it difficult to go from there.

If you ask him why, he’ll furrow his brows and shrug in almost a cynical manner.

“What, am I not allowed to show my friend affection?”

“Well, you are, it’s just—”

“Is this you saying we’re not friends, (Y/N)?”

“No! It’s just— nevermind…”

If you ask him if he can tone it down a bit, he makes a big deal out of it.

Pray to god you guys aren’t in a crowded area.

“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it bothered you, dear liege.”

He makes you feel bad that you brought it up in the first place.

Maybe it was best to stay silent next time…

— He also hates it when other people touch you.

It’s something that’s painfully obvious.

Say some poor girl taps your shoulder for your attention.

He’s got his hand on your waste, glaring daggers into her skull.

Or a football player accidentally runs into you.

He’s pulling you close to him and yelling at the player to watch where they’re going.

Or even a close friend of yours wants to give you a hug.

He’s cutting it short by tugging you to his chest for a hug of his own.

It could be the smallest touch that sets his jealousy off.

You try to tell him to calm down.

“Dick, you don’t have to be so… clingy.”

But you already know that never ends well.

And god forbid you touch someone else.

Maybe the two of you are hanging out with another friend and you lightly punch them in the shoulder.

His expression drops immediately.

The more you start giving out shoulder pats, hugs, high fives, whatever it may be, the more upset he gets at you.

And you don’t want that to happen while you’re trying to have a good time with your friends.

— If you upset him enough, he’ll start ignoring you.

It only happens once in a blue moon, but it definitely happens.

And, when it does, it’s an anxiety filled week.

Did you say or do something that upset him?

Maybe he was just busy.

But he always found time to spend time with you…

You started to remember that he was kind of off the last time you saw each other.

He was more distant and quiet.

But what did you to cause that?

He keeps ignoring your texts and phone calls.

You didn’t want to blow up his phone, but dropping you without a word’s kind of shitty.

If you run into each other around campus, he’ll walk away without even looking at you.

It kind of hurt.

A lot.

So, you found yourself talking to a friend while walking around at night.

“Did something happen between you two?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “He hasn’t talked to me since we all hung out last.”

Your friend hums. “Come to think of it, I haven’t either. That’s weird…”

You couldn’t do anything else but agree.

The conversation changed from Dick’s behavior to campus gossip, and you started to feel more at ease.

That is, until a THUNK noise rang out and your friend dropped to the ground.

“Wha—?”

You got on your knees immediately as you began to call their name and shake them.

A bit of relief was provided when you found out they were alive, just unconscious for whatever reason.

And then your eyes landed on some weird baton looking thing.

It didn’t look lethal, but it could definitely knock someone out.

Was that what hit your friend?

“Whoops,” a voice above you chimed.

The way your body jolted almost caused you to lose your balance.

Who was THAT?!

Slowly looking up, you realized a masked man in a tight suit was crouching above a pavilion.

A familiar looking masked man in a tight suit.

“… Nightwing..?!”

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he chuckled, playing around with another one of those baton things in his hand. “Dropped my Escrima stick.”

You were in awe as he flipped to the ground with ease and picked his stick up.

“You shouldn’t be walking around at night,” he warned. “Don’t wanna risk something happening to you.”

Not knowing what to say, you nodded.

A soft smile found its way on the masked man’s face. He gave your wrist a small squeeze and said, “stay safe” before flipping off to god knows where.

After a minute of shock, you finally began to hoist your friend off the ground to carry them back to their room.

(“Must’ve had a lot to drink tonight,” their roommate commented.)

(Meanwhile, you were silently praying the poor soul didn’t have a concussion.)

— The next day, Dick began to talk to you again.

He hugged you from behind like everything was back to normal, which surprised you.

“Dick—?!”

“That’s me.”

Before you could begin to ask why the fuck he ignored you, his arm found your shoulder as he began to walk you to the cafe on campus.

“I’m a little hungry,” he explained with a goofy grin. “I didn’t have breakfast this morning.”

So, the two of you ordered something and sat at the seating area.

That’s when you were able to ask him.

“Where have you been this past week?”

He blinked at you dumbly. “Studying?”

“And ignoring my calls?!”

“I didn’t check my phone,” he shrugged.

“I thought you were mad at me,” you complained. “Could you at least give me a call to let me know everything’s alright?”

His expression turned into something unreadable. Those blue eyes had a slight coldness to them as his mouth suddenly formed a crooked smile.

“(Y/N), you don’t have to be so… clingy.”

[raspberryranpo]

Hi! I've never made a request before, and I can't find a post that says if requests are open or not so I hope this is okay. BUT. If they are open, would I be able to request some fluffy headcanons with Felix, Sylvain, and the three head of houses (Dimi, Claude and Edie) if possible? If you don't write for characters separately like that then maybe just black eagles fluffy headcanons? I love your writing and I hope you have an amazing day/night 🥰❤️

general fluff headcanons

fire emblem three houses: dimitri, claude, edelgard, felix & sylvain

requests are still open by the way!! please just bear with me because i’m trying my hardest to get through a bunch of them this week after not doing anything for a while

DIMITRI

prefers to link arms with you rather than hold your hand because he’s scared that he’ll end up hurting you

loves to have you brush his hair when you’re getting ready for bed. on more than one occasion, he’s managed to pass out on your lap

going back to what i said before about cottagecore dimitri….. during your school days, he liked to talk about how, in the future, you & he would have a small house in the faerghus countryside, surrounded by nothing but nature

will gently tuck your hair behind your ear or pick an eyelash off of your face without worrying about embarrassing you because that never occurs to him

talks about you to his friends and the nobles he has to deal with as king too - they hear about you nonstop and it drives them absolutely crazy, but it’s still heartwarming to see the previously silent prince now blab on about the person he loves

CLAUDE

sometimes you can feel claude’s prickly beard when you both wake up in the morning & he always makes it a point to wake you up by rubbing it into your neck

blows raspberries into your skin whenever he sees an opportunity to. of course, he doesn’t do this around just anyone - mostly in front of lorenz just to make him uncomfortable though

whenever he comes home, he runs straight to wherever you are & scoops you up effortlessly, swinging you back and forth and kissing you all over

knows how to style your hair and will play with it at any given opportunity, meaning that whenever he’s bored and you’re bored and you’re both in a meeting, he’s reaching over to twirl a strand in his fingers

plays with the orphans in the monastery whenever he passes them by - for example, if they’re playing football, he’ll kick the ball around with them for five minutes and praise them, even if he’s needed immediately at an important meeting. it always makes them smile & he’s a favourite among them

EDELGARD

you’ve seen her talking to the cats and dogs dotted around the monastery on more than one occasion. she won’t admit it, but you both know that she does it

is 100% hiding a cat in her room and you can hear it on occasion through the window. the cat sometimes finds its way into the room next door (hubert’s) and you can also hear him fawning over it too

whenever she’s bored in a meeting, she’ll just lean over and rest her head on your shoulder, shutting her eyes once she’s sure that nobody’ll notice

has an exceptional singing voice. dorothea has asked her to join mittelfrank multiple times but she’s refused - however, she does enjoy singing you to sleep whenever you’re both together at night

you guys always have tea parties every sunday with zero exceptions. all you do is drink tea and talk trash about the blue lions with the hopes that one of them will walk past and hear. sometimes hubert joins, and those days are always the harshest yet funniest.

SYLVAIN

reads a book before bed every night, otherwise he can’t sleep. he has little reading glasses too & it’s the most old man thing he’s ever done. he’s also probably afraid of the dark too bless

every time he walks past you & you’re sitting down, he’ll either a) ruffle your hair and then kiss the top of your head, or b) push down on your head so that you hit the table or the thing you’re holding just to get on your nerves

will talk about the most random topics for hours on end - you could ask him about giant squids and he’d know everything there is to know, and then some. he’s incredibly nerdy & whenever he’s around you, his mouth just starts running, half out of nervousness and half out of the need to impress you

saying that, he probably knows everything about everyone, much like gretchen from mean girls. whenever there’s someone being mean to you, he’ll come out and say their darkest secret just to get revenge

genuinely listens to all you have to say without zoning out or talking over you. and he remembers the smallest things, too - you could mention how you saw a really cute necklace the other day, and the next thing you know, he’s holding it up in front of you

FELIX

is incredibly soft behind closed doors. i know i say this every time i do something fluffy for felix, but it’s true. he can’t bring himself to even hold your hand otherwise because he’s too busy worrying about whether his hands are too sweaty or if he’ll crush your hands

instead of holding hands, though, he’ll gladly hold your pinky. every so often he squeezes it just to let you know that he’s still there and that he still cares about you

everything you look at in shops, he buys, zero hesitation. even if you protest, he tries to reason that you deserve it and that money is of no relevance to him whatsoever. he purely just wants to see you happy

he (very reluctantly) took you to meet his father once. rodrigue loved you, saying that you’re a good influence on felix, and that he hopes that felix is treating you right. baby pictures are shown, and felix is fuming by the time you leave

felix also has reading glasses and no i do not accept criticism. he doesn’t even read that often, but he knows that you think he looks cute with his dinky glasses on, so he puts them on more often. they slide down his face sometimes & he blushes when you push them back up for him

[theladyofdeath]

Tempting the Fates {Chapter 4}

Summary: It’s the final semester of Aelin Galathynius’ collegiate career and she is so beyond ready to be done. Her schedule is packed full of nursing classes and labs designed to test her knowledge and hone her skills for the real world and her “big girl” job. However, she needs one last elective to graduate, so she decides to study a subject she’s always been fascinated by: Mythology. Who would have thought that a class about gods and goddesses living complicated lives would end up complicating her own in such an unexpected way?

Word Count: 2550

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday.

Tempting the Fates Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Apollo

– God of light, prophecy, inspiration, poetry, the sun, music and arts, medicine and healing

Aelin tried to convince herself that she got up and got ready two hours early for class because of her busy schedule. She kept telling herself it was for the meeting she had with her advisor, about a possible internship at the end of the semester.

She knew that both reasons, while extremely important, were full of shit. She knew she’d showered, blow dried and curled her hair for Rowan. It wasn’t that she was trying to impress him. She’d already done that and the chance she had to be with him had come and gone.

No, now it was about proving to him that even though this class may be a gen ed, she was taking it seriously.

Dropping the class had crossed her mind. She really didn’t need to take it, she could still find a different one to pick up. But she didn’t want to think about the sort of impression it would leave about her.

If there was anything to know about Aelin Galathynius, it was that she was not a quitter, nor did she run from her problems.

Or heartaches.

With one last look in the mirror, and a whistle from Lysandra, Aelin was out the door and hurrying across campus. She grabbed a coffee on the way, but avoided her usual place, knowing full well that Rowan enjoyed the same famous cafe that she did.

He wasn’t there yet when she got to the hall, but she took the same seat she had the class before.

She wondered if Rowan would be looking for her this time.

She quickly shook the thought away.

With her hot coffee on the corner of her fold up desk, she was pulling out her notebook and a pen, waiting anxiously for class to begin.

For him to walk through the door.

Apparently he liked to be right on the dot, though, because students continued to wander in, but he did not.

She was tapping her pen against her notebook, doing her best not to stare at the clock. She was just anxious for her day to start. It wasn’t that she wanted to see Rowan.

Professor Whitethorn, she amended in her head. She had to quit thinking of him as Rowan. She couldn’t think of him like that anymore, his body pressing into hers, lips on her neck, as he—

Shaking her head, Aelin sighed and suddenly realized that the rest of the class had hushed. She was so focused on reprimanding herself for her highly inappropriate thoughts that she hadn’t noticed him come through the door and begin setting up for class. When she dared to glance towards the front, she found his eyes on her. He quickly looked away, going back to his laptop and setting up the PowerPoint on screen.

Maybe he hadn’t been looking at her.

Maybe it had all been in her mind.

But she didn’t think it had been.

He had been watching her.

“Happy Thursday, class,” he began, as the title page of his presentation flashed onto the board. “Glad to see you all showed up again. Must mean my first class didn’t suck.” Quiet laughter thrummed through the room. Aelin couldn’t muster a laugh, though. “On Tuesday, we covered the basics. So, today… Sorry, we’re doing that again.”

More laughter, especially from the pretty, flirty girls up front.

Aelin couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

Which, when she settled her eyes back on Rowan, he definitely saw.

Come on, get your shit together, she chastised herself. With her back straightened, she gave him her full attention.

She took dutiful notes, but his slides didn’t hold much in the way of information. They were mostly headers, with a few bullet points. Most of the important information, information she knew would be critical for homework or exams, came straight from Rowan’s mouth.

It was clear that he loved mythology, that it wasn’t just a class his aunt had tossed his way and told him to figure it out. He was a trove of knowledge and she noticed he had a habit of going on slight tangents when he got going on a topic he was clearly interested in.

After a student asked him to clarify what he meant about Hercules not being Zeus’ only son, he ended up talking for nearly twenty minutes about what the beloved Disney movie had gotten wrong. Aelin had stopped taking notes and was watching him go on and on about how Hades, while god of the underworld, was not necessarily a villain. He just had a job to do. A job that had rules that must be followed, or the consequences could damn not only him, but others involved. His eyes found hers again and the amused smile on her face fell as she made the correlation between their own situation and the story.

They held each other’s gazes for far longer than was appropriate, and Rowan cleared his throat, going back to the PowerPoint, and the  predetermined lesson plans he’d made, which didn’t include children’s movie breakdowns.

She watched him.

She listened.

And she found it all fascinating. 

Rowan peeked at the clock after going on and on, and stilled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I guess I’ll end there. There is an assignment due by tomorrow evening. You can find and submit it online. It’s an opinion piece. I want a little insight as to why you were so interested to take this class, or what you’ve found fascinating so far.” He sat on his desk, his legs hanging over the side, his feet nearly touching the ground as he leaned back on his palms. Aelin found it charming. “You’re going to write a short essay telling me of your favorite deity. It could be one I’ve talked about so far, or one I haven’t. It’s your choice. But, tell me why they are your favorite. Give me a little depth. And, remember, this is a college course. Grammar counts.”

The clock struck nine-thirty and everyone began packing up. Aelin had been so captivated by his voice that she had to snap herself back to reality.

She quickly packed up her bag, alongside the other students around her. She noticed then how young they all were, and she was willing to bet that she may be the only senior on the roster. As she was descending the stairs, she found Rowan’s eyes on her again, but he looked away as his attention was taken, thanks to the group of girls who’d been sitting in the front row. She heard vague questions of whether they could all write about Aphrodite, since they all related to her.

The scoff Aelin thought she’d kept to herself had apparently been out loud, since not only Rowan looked at her as she passed, but so did the three girls. With his attention on her again, she decided to give him a little wave.

“See you later, Professor Whitethorn.”

If there was some extra sway to her hips, it wasn’t on purpose.

At least that’s what she told herself.

Two and a half hours later, Aelin was starving. She’d just gotten out of an extremely complicated lab and she could barely focus over the growling of her stomach. Twice, the instructor had looked over at her, half expecting to find a dog stashed under the table she was working at.

So when the class let out, she was hurrying toward the cafeteria ready to get a salad from the salad bar and a big ass slice of pizza.

It was all about balance. 

As she was waiting in line to fill her plate with salad, she heard a voice behind her.

“Are you actually getting lettuce or just filling your plate with ham, cheese, and croutons?” 

Aelin looked over her shoulder to find Chaol, her ex, suppressing a smile.

Aelin chuckled. “If it’s the same price, you may as well pile up on the good stuff.” 

Chaol gave her a small smile. “Fair enough. It’s good to see you, Aelin. You look good.”

Things hadn’t ended the best between her and Chaol, but that had been just after freshman year. At least now when they ran into one another, they could have nice little conversations like this one.

No hard feelings.

“You too,” she said, and he did. He’d been in an accident the year before. They weren’t sure he was going to walk again. In all honesty, it was just good to see him on his feet.

“How long until your class?” He asked, sliding his tray along behind hers.

She glanced down at her watch. “About forty five minutes. You?”

“This is my long break,” he sighed. “I’ve got an hour and a half, but didn’t feel like leaving campus. Want to have lunch with me?”

“Sure.” Her smile wasn’t forced, it was easy and she was glad they could even do this, when three years again, they could barely be in the same room.

“I assume you’re getting a piece of pizza after this,” Chaol said with a smirk, nodding towards her plate. “So I’ll grab us a table while you get the rest of your lunch.”

She scoffed but nodded, and went off to get a slice of pizza. When she ordered her pizza, she also got a slice of cheesecake. It was his favorite, something she hadn’t forgotten, but it didn’t hurt that she liked it, too.

Finding him in the cafeteria, she sat down at the table across from him. “How’s Yrene doing?”

He blushed, and Aelin had to admit it was adorable. After his accident, he’d fallen for his physical therapist, and she was just as smitten with him. It must have been all the one-on-one sessions, because Chaol had never been one to let someone in. Aelin had met Yrene early in her med classes, but Yrene had specialized in PT and graduated in less than three years, taking as many classes as she could manage and even studying through the summers as well.

“It’s going good,” he said, at last. “We, uh, just moved in together, actually.”

Aelin lifted a brow. “That was fast.”

Chaol shot her a look.

Aelin laughed. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant, good for you. I like Yrene. A lot. You two are good together.”

Chaol cleared his throat before taking a bite of his salad. “Thanks.” 

Aelin chuckled, taking a bite of her pizza.

Chaol blinked. “What?”

“You get so uncomfortable when it comes to feelings,” she said. “Always have.”

His eyes narrowed at her. “That’s not true.”

Aelin stopped mid-chew and raised a brow.

Even Chaol couldn’t help but chuckle at the expression. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. What about you? Seeing anyone?”

Aelin hesitated, then said, “No.”

A slow grin appeared on Chaol’s mouth. “Didn’t sound so sure about what one.”

Aelin shrugged. “Better be nice or I’m not sharing this magnificent cheesecake with you.”

Holding up his hands in placation, Chaol went back to his salad. Rowan was a dangerous topic, one she wouldn’t share with anyone but Lysandra, so she summed it up quickly. “Met someone I thought I hit it off with. Turns out we didn’t work.”

He slowly nodded. Aelin knew he’d had a couple failed relationships between her and Yrene. “I get it, I’m sorry. Still sucks.”

Shrugging again, she turned to her salad. “It happens. Not a big deal. So if you’re living with Yrene, does that mean you and Dorian broke up? Or is he playing house with you, too?”

Chaol leveled her with a look. Chaol and Dorian had been best friends long before they came to the University of Orynth. They were both from Adarlan, both trying to get away from overbearing fathers, and decided college across the country was the way to do it. They’d been roommates every year and Aelin couldn’t even imagine Chaol living with anyone except Dorian. But now he was. “He moved into an apartment with Manon this semester when I moved in with Yrene.”

Aelin blinked. “Blackbeak? He moved in with Manon Blackbeak?”

Nodding, Chaol went on. “Apparently, they’ve been dating for about a year, without anyone noticing.”

Something in the way he said it told Aelin that he had noticed, but when Dorian had his mind set on something, there was no stopping him. And apparently, he’d decided to date one of the most terrifying women on campus.

Aelin’s response was eloquent. “Wow.”

Chaol grinned. “I like it when you’re caught off guard. It’s satisfying.”

With a scoffed she nudged his leg with the toe of her sneaker. “Well, I don’t. Dorian will be getting a very angry phone call this afternoon.”

“I’ll be sure to give him a warning,” Chaol promised.

Aelin chuckled, taking the last bite of her pizza. “It’s good to see you all happy, though. Really.”

Chaol’s eyes softened. “Thanks, Aelin.”

She nodded. “Even if I am terrified that Dorian will get eaten alive.”

Chaol laughed, and she had forgotten how nice Chaol’s rare, hearty laugh was.

She meant it. She was so happy for them, both of them. It was interesting how things changed over the course of a few short years.

Their conversation continued, as did the laughs, and before she knew it, Aelin glanced down at her watch. She had less than fifteen minutes to haul ass back to the nursing building for her next class. Chaol, who had much longer to sit with nothing to do, assured her that he could handle her trash and told her to get to class. With a hug, and a promise that they’d have dinner soon, all of them, even Manon, Aelin was hurrying out of the cafeteria building.

Somehow, the entire time she’d been having lunch with Chaol, she hadn’t noticed the set of pine green eyes watching her.

Rowan’s own break had been at the same time as hers, but the gen ed building was much closer than wherever she was having to run off to, so he had longer to sit and— there was no denying it— brood. They were halfway across the room, so he couldn’t hear any of their conversation. He had no clue who the tall man was she smiled at so often, but clearly they were very familiar with each other with how easily they talked. And he made her laugh. A lot.

Rowan wasn’t sure why that was what grated on his nerves the most, but it unsettled him.

Seeing Aelin with someone else, someone clearly her own age, it all unsettled him. He didn’t like it. Almost as much as her parting words in class had.

See you later, Professor Whitethorn.

It’s like she was mocking him, yet at the same time, she clearly wasn’t. She was doing exactly as he’d asked of her, seeing him as her professor, not as her boyfriend.

No, he reprimanded himself. Not boyfriend. Hookup.

They’d had sex one time, that didn’t give either of them any claim over the other. It was a hookup and nothing more. And she was his gods-damned student.

She was off limits, in every way possible.

Yet he couldn’t figure out why seeing her with someone else, someone she should clearly be interested in instead of him, had him seeing red.