#so deep down she thinks she's too much of a handful. and that people she's with will eventually get sick of her

[sinstear]

ㅤ❝ I COULD DO THIS ALL DAY AND ONCE A WEEK FOR YOU ❞

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤpairing. milf!abby x mechanic!reader

masterlist. warnings. 18+, sub!abby, dom!reader, milf!abby, mechanic!reader, dirty talk (a lot of it, oops), fingering, strap usage, abby just being a needy brat, breeding kink, there’s probably more a/n. merry christmas gays <3 this is a small installation to the milf!abby au me and @vifilms have created. if it’s a little confusing on the jump, don’t worry, you’ll get more parts explaining their relationship before or whatever soon. happy holidays, and if you don’t celebrate it, i hope you all have a blessed day either way <3

milf!abby who doesn’t hesitate to text you when it comes down to her friends having a small get-together, her first instinct was to ask you to come with her, and she was a little too giddy and excited when you replied with ‘of course, more time to spend with a pretty lady’ what she would never admit was that she spent an ungodly amount of minutes looking at your reply, apples of her cheeks crimson red before she replied with her own ‘sounds good, can’t wait to see you’ unaware that on the other side of town, you were already rummaging around in your closet, trying to find something perfect enough, that will go with whatever she picks, to wear. apart from ripped jeans, t-shirts, and a few jackets, you were at a loss. confused on what to wear to a small party with people who would dress up a little more … sophisticated-like. the bright colors, the pretty pearls. that wasn’t you. you were content with your hoodies, your jeans, your button-up shirts, and sweatpants. not what they love to wear.

milf!abby can’t focus the second you walk through the door that same night, dressed in a pair of jeans, heavy boots paired with a white shirt, and a jacket. she’s seen you in nothing but a tank top, oil and grease covering your arms, and even then you looked hot working on her car every day, you looked ethereal and more handsome tonight. abby doesn’t know how to react when she finds you talking to some of her friends, offering to help if they need it, seconds later. she thinks it’s kind that you are offering even though you were a guest. one of the many things she adores about you. always wanting to help.

milf!abby drags you away from the party not even 15 minutes later. her hands cupping your face, while yours are instantly pulling down the dress she was wearing, down over her shoulders, and bunching it around her hips as you cup both her tits and squeeze them in the palm of your hands, the second she pulls you into the bathroom. the soft sounds of her whines and whimpers fill the echoed room while you simply grin against her neck, pinching and pulling at her hard pebbled nipples. her head rests against the bathroom door, the whimpers tumbling from her shamelessly has you growling into her neck and slipping your leg between her thigh. a sinister grin appearing on your lips at her sudden gasp, wrapping her arm around your neck and holding you to her. “i bet if i put my hand up your dress right now, you’re gonna be soaked, hm?” you muttered against her flushed skin. “don’t even have to tell me, i know.” your mocking words had abby’s heart pounding in her chest, cunt clenching around nothing and cheeks flushed while she nods desperately. “love your tits so much, so fuckin’ pretty”

milf!abby’s eyes roll back in her head when you’re placing your hand over her mouth, muffling the sounds thats dripping from between her cherry red swollen lips as you bury your fingers deep in her cunt, groaning softly under your breath at the way she clenches around you tightly. “you know how much i love to hear you, but you gotta be quiet f’me, sweetheart, hm?” you coo, kissing away the tears streaking her face. “i know you can do it, don’t wanna get caught, do you?”

“m’sorry, just feels s’good.” abby whimpered against your hand, voice hitching when the palm of your hand rubbed against her neglected clit. fingers clutching at your crumpled shirt, knuckles white with the sheer iron grip she has on you. it makes you laugh, making her whine with a deeper blush knowing just how fucking needy she is. needy for you to touch her, making a mess of her, and have her weak in the knees. you only have to look at her, and she’s begging for you.

“yeah, i can tell, practically soaking my hand.”

that just makes abby clench around you harder. 

milf!abby clings to you for dear life and whimpers loudly into your neck when she gushes all over your fingers minutes later, slick running down the inners of her thigh and another whimper is ripped from her throat as you gently pull your fingers out of her cunt, bringing those fingers straight to your mouth with a grin. her pupils dilate more, if that’s even possible when you wrap your lips around them and suck. the moan you let out at the taste of her, has her rubbing her thighs together again. an action that you don’t miss. “taste just as sweet as last night, sweetheart.” you hummed with a cheeky grin, leaned forward, and kissed the side of her mouth. laughing at her whine. “patience, baby. just a little longer, and i promise, you can have my cock later.”

milf!abby is pathetic and whiny when you’ve finally got her bent over the sink, dress still bunched over her hips, panties in your back pocket for a keepsake, and she can’t hold back on those sounds you love to hear so much when your cock is deep inside her cunt. stretching her out perfectly, like her pussy was made for you. you could tell she was struggling to keep it down, not wanting her friends to hear. you on the other hand, were crazy. you wouldn’t care at all if they heard the pretty sounds you were pulling from her with each thrust of your hips. 

“wish i could feel you” you groaned, hands iron grip on her hips, pulling her back and down on your cock. your eyes dropping to shamelessly watching the way her cunt practically sucks your strap back inside of her. only for your eyes to snap up at the soft whine to find abby with her head buried in the bend of her elbow, trying to muffle her sounds. “lemme hear you, baby, yeah?” you cooed, tangling your fingers into her soft blonde locks and pulled her head back carefully. “yeah, you look so pretty like this” you smirked at her through the mirror. “look so sexy while i split you open on my cock.”

abby wasn’t sure whether to look at you or herself. her hair was disheveled, her light makeup ruined, cheeks flushed, hips bruised due to your grip, and her lips all red and swollen. if you both walked out of the bathroom now, everyone would know. they would all know what happened, and maybe that excites abby a little because her cunt clenches around your cock, gasps, and jolts against the mirror when you’re removing your hand from her hip, to reach down between her legs and rub light circles on her clit. “just needed to have all your worries and thoughts fucked out that pretty head of yours hm? don’t worry, sweetheart, m’gonna fuck you until you can barely remember your own name.”

the blonde opens her mouth to reply, brain completely empty and cheeks flushed darker red if that’s even possible, but her attempt at trying to reply to your words fail when you angle your hips just perfectly, your cock is deliciously rubbing that spot deep inside her and abby’s hand is quick to slip between her legs and rub circles on her clit with you. “fuck, fuck, right there, please please—” her voice breaks and her head slumps against her mirror, her breath fogging up the glass. “i need—”

“what do you need, hm baby? need me to fuck you until you can’t walk? mark you up? show everyone you’re mine?” you listed, groaning against her neck and fucking her hard, rubbing her clit faster. “need me to fill you up, s’that what you need? fill you up and make you a mama?”

“yes! yes yes, please—” abby’s chokes out, a little too late to warn you or barely registers a warning as her body tenses beneath you and gushes over your cock with a loud gasped whimper that has you putting your mouth over her mouth, not wanting her friends to know what was happening, even if it was something you so badly wanted deep down. “oh—” she sighs against your hand, eyes fluttering closed again as you slowly fuck her through her orgasm.  

“me saying i wanna make you a mama did it for you, huh?” you laughed against her ear, your breath fanning her skin hotly as you ran your nose up and down her neck. enjoying the way she lifts her head up and looks at you through the mirror. completely fucked out. only for you to groan softly when she’s pushing back against you with a whine. “sweetheart,”

“wanna make you cum” 

“later, you can do whatever you want”

milf!abby can’t avoid the grins and smirks her friends give her when you both finally make your way back downstairs to find them in the kitchen. they wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t for the fact that abby was patting down her hair, fixing her dress. or you, in all your glory, were butting up your shirt, not caring at all that they were grinning your way. “have fun, abby?” one teased, eyeing up the marks on her neck. “it looks like you guys both had a lot of fun”

glaring at her friend, abby simply huffed, wrapped her arm around yours and scowled. “stop it!” she mumbled, trying to hide the obvious blush coating her face. while you, being a shit, were just laughing softly against her head. “don’t encourage them!”

“m’not doing anything” you grinned, hand slipping down to her lower back and kissing behind her ear. a place you know that always has her melting in your hands. “you don’t have to tell me you had fun, the sounds you were making are enough for me to know, sweetheart.” you whispered in her ear before walking away into the kitchen. that stupid fucking smirk, a smirk she loves a little too much, resting on your lips.

milf!abby who cannot wait until this little party is over so that she can go home and hold you up on your promise of letting her do whatever she wants to do to you. for the time being, she’s just going to have to sit there and let her friends tease her about the sounds that were coming from the bathroom, and ignoring the way you simply looked at her, slumped between two of her friends, legs spread with a beer in your hand and a grin on your face each time she would grow redder at their constant teasing. she just needed to get this party out of the way so she could have you all to herself once again, free to do whatever she wanted, and you were excited, to say the least. 

[thepitlanepress]

I DON'T LIKE IT –

↳ lando norris + bestfriend!reader

⌗ :: masterlist

⌗ :: a/n: im actually in a lando phase (maybe its bc i f1 is gone for months) but its effecting me so much so im blessing you all with JEALOUS/POSSESSIVE LANDOOOO AHHEHE. merry christmas my lovelies <33 (also if this is bad im sorry i was extremely tired when i wrote this lol)

usually you don't like going out with lando. the clubs, partying, drinking it wasn't exactly your scene.

so when he insists you come out with him to celebrate the constructors championship, you can't exactly say no. hence, the short fitting black dress, and nicely done, hair and makeup that you've put on. when you go out, you go out, it just doesn't happen very often.

"are you nearly done?" lando's voice calls out from the living room as he waits for you.

"yeah, i'm coming now," you call back, walking down the stairs and mentally preparing yourself to talk and interact with people.

you grab the car keys off the small table in the hallway and make your way into the living room your footsteps announcing your presence to lando, he turns around and slightly falters in his movements when he sees you.

"uh, wow, okay," he says looking you up and down slowly, his eyes raking over your body.

"what?" your brows bunch and you look down at your outfit. "i thought it looked good, is there something wrong?"

"uh... no, no, you look amazing, i just wasn't expecting you to look so nic-"

"you weren't expecting me to look nice?" you raise your voice playfully.

"no, no, no i- uh- no- look... shit," lando mutters looking down and shaking his head. "you look amazing, seriously. i just forgot how well you can pull off a black dress."

you smile, and chuck the keys towards him, "i can pull off anything lando norris, even you. and that's not something everybody can do." you wink and walk back out through the hallway to the car.

"you can pull off me?"

"yeah, not every girl can have lando norris on her arm and still be the centre of attention. there are perks to being your best friend you know."

"and there are perks to being yours," lando says unlocking the car and sliding into the drivers seat. you feel the safest when he's driving, always trusting him when he's behind the wheel.

"oh really?" you ask looking over at him. "like what?"

"you," he murmurs backing out of the driveway. you don't hear him though, too distracted by a text you received from your sister.

–––

he didn't like it, you could tell. was it the murderous looks he was sending in the direction of the guy's - who's name you've already forgotten - or was it the looks he was sending you, heated and something else? both probably.

he wasn't even focused on the crowd around him dancing and drinking their nights away.

when the guy started getting too handsy that is when you felt lando's hand wrap around your waist and causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach - which you promptly ignored.

"leave her alone, mate. she's mine," lando's voice comes out harsh his anger directed towards the man who steps back apologising - typical of him to only step back when another man steps in.

"oh sorry, i didn't know," he slurs and walks off, most likely to go puke in some poor person's handbag.

you're about to spin around in lando's arms and thank him for rescuing you but you stop short at the expression on his face. "what?" you look down at your outfit. "is it the same thing from earlier? what's wrong?"

"i don't like it."

"don't like what?" you ask furrowing your brows.

"when other people touch you," he responds quietly his voice low and tempting. thats new.

"oh," you reply slightly dumbfounded. in all your years of knowing lando norris you've always had hidden feelings for him, sure there were points when said feelings were buried deep deep down, but they were always there.

and you always thought they were never reciprocated but they way lando is looking at you right now is... something new. something you like... a lot.

"i don't like people thinking they can just touch you. they can't. because you're mine not theirs. you're my best friend. you're my person. you're not theirs to touch or hold or flirt with, because you're mine."

his arms tighten around your waist as if he's expecting you to run away at any moment.

"oh my," you breathe. "i don't know what to say."

"tell me you feel the same way, tell me that i can be yours, because you're mine, and i'm not letting you go anytime soon."

"possessive are we?" you chuckle trying to diffuse the tension because he's probably drunk, he's going to wake up in the morning and apologise about this insisting he doesn't know what he was talking about and how sorry he was.

its happened so many times before.

your heart gets crushed every time. so you don't go out with him to avoid it.

but tonight this feels different.

"i haven't had a sip of alcohol tonight, this is the most clearheaded i've ever been in a long time... please talk to me."

"lando," you whisper. your heart is teetering on the edge of being shattered to pieces and finally telling the truth. you're walking a thin line between the two hoping to fall on the right side. "i don't want this to be like those other times when you wake up in the morning apologising for what you say."

"i never meant those apologies. i remember all those nights, i lied," he breathes swaying with you to the music. "i freaked out in the morning because you would always want to talk about what happened, and your face was always so distrusting so i shut it down pretending i didn't know what happened."

"really?" you're tilting on the line, swaying from side to side waiting for the words that are going to make or break you.

"really. i've been in love with you ever since the day you stopped to pick a flower that reminded you of me."

"lando," you give him a look. "that was like the second time we met."

"and i've been yours ever since." he smiles at you, his eyes filled with clear adoration, which quickly turns to a pissed off look when someone steps up behind you and asks for a dance. "piss off mate, we're clearly talking."

you smile and don't even bother to look back at the man, everything you've ever wanted is standing in front of you and offering himself on a platter for you. and you're tired, so tired of staying on the ledge between friends and more,

so you take the leap.

pulling him imperceptibly closer you wrap your arms around his neck and hug him tightly whispering in his ear, "i'm yours too."

you can physically feel his body relax and mold around yours - a perfect fit of course.

if you fall, it will hurt for sure, but this moment, right now; flying with him, together, will be worth it if you do.

2024 © thepitlanepress | please do not steal, use, translate or repost any of my works

[stargazsblog]

how to lose a girl in 10 days | ch.1 the bet

ryomen sukuna x fem!reader

ʚɞ ryomen sukuna is tall, devastatingly handsome, and the campus heartbreaker. everyone knows his name, and his reputation for leaving girls with broken hearts. but then there's you uninterested and completely unimpressed by him. you're the only girl who couldn't care less about him. when his friends tease him about it, everything changes. they challenge him with a bet to make you, the one person who isn't affected by his charm, fall in love with him in just 10 days, sukuna accepts the challenge, thinking it'll be an easy win. it's just a game, a way to prove he can get any girl he wants. but the more time he spends with you, he finds himself wanting something he never expected.

ʚɞ warning/tags: angst, fluff, romance, use of cigarettes and alcohol, jealousy, asshole sukuna, heartbreak, inspired by how to lose a guy in 10 days, college au, enemies to lovers.

ʚɞ now playing - no. 1 party anthem by arctic monkeys

note: hi guys! this is the first chapter and I'm so excited this is just about how the bet starts nothing crazyyyy YET… i can’t wait to write more! merry christmas!! <3

masterlist

“I still don’t know why I let you talk me into this,” you muttered, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself. The muffled thump of bass from inside the house was enough to make your ears ring, even from a distance. The faint smell of cigarette smoke and cheap beer mixed with the crisp winter breeze, making you wrinkle your nose.

“Because,” Shoko said, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “Deep down, you know you’ll have fun if you let yourself.” she grinned at you.

You side-eye her, “Have fun?, this is a party of drunk idiots I have to pretend I like.”

“Don't be dramatic.” Shoko rolled her eyes, patting your shoulder as she let you go. ”You spend too much time brooding alone in your dorm, anyway.”

“I call it peace,” you shot back, but Shoko was already halfway up the stairs.

The door swung open before either of you could reach it. A group of boys tumbled out, laughing and shouting, nearly knocking you over in the process. You stepped aside just in time, muttering a curse under your breath

The heat of the crowded house hit you immediately. The air was thick, almost suffocating, with the smell of sweat, spilled drinks, and overly sweet perfume. Bodies pressed together as people danced to the relentless beat of the music.

“Come on, let's get a drink,” she said, grabbing your wrist and leading you towards the kitchen. You stuck close to her, pushing past people in the crowd and avoiding eye contact as much as possible.

“This is a disaster,” you muttered as you reached the kitchen, leaning against the counter. Shoko handed you a bottle of water before pouring herself something that smelled suspiciously strong.

“It's just a party,” she replied.

As she took a sip, she leaned against the counter, her eyes scanning the room again. “There he is,” she said, nudging you with her elbow.

“Who?”

“You know who.”

Your gaze followed hers, landing on a familiar figure sprawled out on the couch in the corner of the living room. Ryomen Sukuna.

He was sitting on the couch like he owned the place, his long legs stretched out, one arm casually draped over the back of the sofa. He was wearing a white shirt, the fabric clinging just enough to hint at the toned muscles underneath. His eyes scanned the room with practiced boredom, like none of it was worth his time.

A girl was sitting on his lap, twirling her hair around her finger and giggling as if he’d just told her the funniest joke in the world. She leaned closer, whispering something in his ear, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention. Instead, his gaze drifted and then locked onto yours.

He grinned, a slow, cocky smirk that made something in your chest tighten not with attraction, but with irritation. It was the kind of grin that said he knew exactly the effect he had on people and loved to watch them crumble under it. He tilted his head slightly, as if to say, Caught you staring

As you looked away, you could feel the weight of his gaze on you. But you didn’t turn back. You weren’t interested.

“Great,” you muttered, taking a long sip from your water bottle. “Now I have to burn this memory from my brain.”

Shoko laughed, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Oh, come on. You’ve got to admit, he’s hot.”

“He’s insufferable.”

“Hot and insufferable. The best combination.”

“I’ll leave right now.” you turned heel, but Shoko grabbed your arm, stopping you from your track.

“Relax, I’m just teasing you.”

Your jaw tightened, but you stayed put, watching as Sukuna leaned back even further, his eyes still fixed on you. The girl on his lap pouted, clearly annoyed at his lack of attention, but he didn’t seem to care.

“I hate him,” you muttered under your breath. The words came out bitter, but they were true. “Did I mention that before?”

“Yeah, like hundreds of times,” She replied, laughing “You really hate him, huh?”

“I just don’t get how people fall for his act,” you said.

Shoko shrugged. “Like I said, he’s hot. People like hot.”

“Hot doesn’t excuse being an asshole,” you murmured, crossing your arms. “What’s his deal, anyway? Does he just sit there all night waiting for people to grovel at his feet?”

“Pretty much,” Shoko said with a shrug. “But he’s good at it. Watch.”

As if on cue, another girl approached him, drink in hand. She leaned down, her lips close to his ear as she said something you couldn’t hear. Sukuna smirked, his attention finally shifting away from you, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“See? he’s harmless,” Shoko said.

“Harmless,” you repeated, your voice with sarcasm. “Sure.”

“You know, you’re the only one who doesn’t fall for his charm.”

“Good,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “I’m not about to start. I don’t need someone like him in my life.”

“You gonna keep her there all night?” Suguru asked, nodding towards the girl on Sukuna’s lap.

Sukuna smirked tilting his head back. “why not? She's comfortable here.” the girl giggled again, clearly tipsy, but Sukuna's attention has already wandered. His eyes scanned the room lazily, taking in the usual suspect, drunk athletes, and the occasional out-of-place loner. Until it landed on you.

You stood in the kitchen, keeping your distance from the chaos, leaning against the counter with your arms crossed. Your eyes roamed over the room, observing, until they met his. He caught you looking, and a smirk tugged at his lips. When you quickly looked away, he let out a low chuckle.

His friends noticed this.

“You’ve been staring at her for the last ten minutes, what’s the deal?” Geto voice cut thought Sukuna’s thoughts, and he glanced over at his friend.

“I’m not staring,” Sukuna retorted smoothly, his tone laced with nonchalance as he effortlessly lifted the girl off his lap. She let out an irritated groan, before stalking off in a huff. “Just observing,”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Geto teased, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve seen the way you're staring at her, that’s not the ‘I’m observing’ look you usually give what’s going on with you.”

Sukuna’s gaze flickered to you once more. “She’s different,” He had noticed you around campus—the way you never spared him a second glance when you passed by, completely unaffected by his presence. Once, he’d even tried to strike up a conversation, but you had brushed past him without so much as acknowledging him, as though he were invisible.

Gojo chuckled “Different? Dude, that girl is the only one who doesn’t drool over you.”

Sukuna’s lip curled into a sly grin. “So what?”

“So,” Suguru continues, crossing his arms, leaning against the couch. “you’ve never met a girl who doesn’t fall for your charm, right? You’ve been with everyone but her? she couldn’t care less.”

Gojo snorted. “And she’s probably the only one on campus. That’s gotta sting.”

Sukuna scoffed, leaning forward slightly. “Please. She is probably playing hard to get.”

Geto exchanged a glance with Gojo, and then a mischievous grunt flashed his eyes. “All alright, how about we make this interesting? We give you ten days.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, “Ten days?’

“Yeah,” he said with a sly smile “Ten days you make her fall in love with you.”

Sukana let out a short laugh, but the challenge already sounded fun to him. He never was the type to back down from a game. “You think I need ten days?”

Suguru shrugged, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “It’d be easier if it were any other girl. But this one… she’s too—what’s the word? Stubborn. Definitely not into guys like you,” he said, “She won’t be an easy win. That’s what makes it interesting, though.”

Satoru chimes in “Yeah, man. You can’t just use your looks and charm this time. You’re gonna have to actually work for it.”

Sukana's eyes flicked back to you for a split second. You were standing there unaware of the conversation that was happening a few feet away from you. “Ten days huh?” he murmured.

“Ten days” Gojo repeated. “And if you fail you lose. It's as simple as that.”

His expression turned darker, the idea of him not winning seemed unthinkable. He wasn’t just going to prove them wrong he was going to show them that no one could resist him.

Gojo leaned back, a grin tugging at his lips. “Oh, and one more thing,” he added, glancing at Sukuna. “You can't be seen with other girls. It’s gotta look real, after all.”

Sukuna’s expression shifted slightly, an eyebrow raised in silent challenge. “You think I need rules to make this work?” he asked.

Geto gave a small nod. “It’s just to make sure no one gets suspicious. You’ll need to actually put in the effort.”

Sukuna smirked, unfazed. “Fine. I’ll play by your rules, but don’t expect me to go easy on her.”

Ten days to make you fall for him. The girl who wouldn’t give him the time of the day. The girl who didn’t care about his reputation. The girl who has no idea what was coming for her.

Unknowingly, you had already been pulled into his game.

“You think his shirt could be any tighter,” Shoko muttered, nodding towards a guy who was flexing across the room.

You snorted. “Pretty sure it's painted on.” leaning against the kitchen counter. Shoko grinned at your words, sipping from her cup.

The kitchen was quieter than the rest of the party, you leaned against the counter sipping on your water. Shoko perched on the edge of the sink, swinging her legs as she talked. You were nodding and listening to the story she was telling you. You hear a group of people walking in the kitchen, their laughter loud and careless. You don’t even need to turn around to know who it is. The weight of his presence pressed into the room like a rebound heartbeat. Ryomen Sukuna.

His graze swept the kitchen, it lingered on you for a moment too long, and a smirk appeared on his face.

“Shoko,” one of his friends called out, his tone playful, but almost teasing. “Come help us with something. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and them. “Fun, huh? i doubt it.”

“It’s better than being stuck in here,” another white-haired friend chimed in.

She rolled her eyes but slid off the counter anyway, giving you a quick pat on the shoulder. “Don’t get too comfortable,” she said with a wink before following them out of the kitchen. And then, it was just you and him.

Great.

Sukuna didn't say anything, but you could feel the weight of his gaze, as he leaned against the counter across from you.

“Guess it’s just us now,” he said finally his voice low and smooth.

You didn't look up, keeping your focus on your drink “Lucky me,” you replied, your tone dry.

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and deep. “You don’t sound too thrilled.”

When you finally glanced up, he was much closer than you’d expected. His tall frame leaned casually against the counter opposite you. Up close, the details of his features were almost overwhelming—the sharp line of his jaw, the subtle curve of his lips that formed an infuriatingly smug smirk, and the mess of his hair falling carelessly over his forehead. You couldn’t deny it, no matter how much you wanted to. He was hot—like, really hot.

“You’re not exactly the first guy to try this,” you said coolly, taking another sip from your drink, your gaze steady as you met his.

Sukuna tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing in amusement. “Try what?” he asked.

“Whatever you’re doing right now,” you replied, “the whole brooding, mysterious thing. It’s not as original as you think.”

He laughed at that, his head tilting back just enough to expose the line of his throat. It wasn’t often that people spoke to him like this, you realized. Most would have thrown themselves at him.

“You’re sharp,” he said, pushing off the counter and taking a step closer. The scent of him hits you. “I like that,” he added, his voice low, a hint of approval in his tone as his gaze lingered on you.

You arched an eyebrow, unimpressed by him. “And I don’t care.”

He paused not being he was offended, but because he wasn’t used to being dismissed, even by someone who didn't so much flinch under his gaze.

He took another step forward, closing the distance between you. “Most people would kill to be in your position right now,” his tone quieter now, almost intimate, as his eyes locked onto yours.

You smirked, setting your drink on the counter behind you. “Then maybe you should go find ‘most people,’” you replied coolly, not breaking eye contact.”

The silence hung in the air. Sukuna’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, then slowly, his gaze dipped to your lips. The smirk on his face faltered just slightly as if he was plotting something in his mind, before it returned—sharper, more amused.

“You’re different,” he murmured finally, his voice low, the words lingering in the air as his gaze stayed fixed on your lips, the tension between you growing with each passing second.

“Should I take that as a compliment?” you asked.

“Take it however you want,” he said, his voice softer now, almost a whisper, his gaze still lingering on your lips as if he was waiting for your next move.

His gaze made it hard to look away. But you forced yourself to break the connection, turning your focus elsewhere. You weren’t sure what Sukuna was trying to do—charm you, challenge you, or maybe a little of both.

“I’m not interested in you, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you said, your tone firm, making sure he knew you weren’t fazed by his presence.

He tilted his head, his smirk fading for a moment. He just looked at you, his dark eyes searching yours as if he were trying to read you.

“We’ll see about that,” he said, his voice low and confident, before turning and walking out.

You let out a slow breath, the heat of his presence lingering in the air. Sukuna wasn’t used to being ignored, and for him, that only made you more of a challenge.

But you weren’t here to play his game.

At least, that’s what you thought.

taglist: @clp-84 @ssetsuka @lymsfm @monic19 @bol0-de-morang0 @strxberryicecream @r0ckst4rjk @gojocumslut @elliebelliegi @kazuuhali @luna-v-roiya @sussiesushi @nakiich @mourart7 @neuvilletteswife4ever @rusted-dolly @blueyesuguru @lillycore @yourhornysister @bnbaochauuu

[alsofoundinpeas]

Crossing the Line

Summary: Y/N never expected to fall for her roommate, Spencer, but when she becomes unexpectedly jealous of a girl flirting with him, she realizes she's in love with him. The problem is... how does she tell him that without ruining everything?

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Roommates/friends to lovers/two idiots in love trope. Jealous reader. Heavy making out. Dry humping (huge supporter of this I say bring it back!!). A small teensy bit of angst as reader struggles to accept her feelings. Insecure Spencer (sweet angel boy).

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

Requested fic!! 🥳: I absolutely loved the fic you just wrote about Spencer and reader friends to lovers (and omg you write smut so well 😍) and I was wondering if you could write another one but maybe they’re roommates or something?

A/N: College!Spencer AU ahh!! Thank you so very much to the anon that requested this :’) <3 I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I know this isn't my usual, all-out smut buttt there will be a part two for these two, so stay tuned. :') As always, please tell me what you think! If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends. <3 Thank you and I love you all!! :)

Y/N never imagined she'd be rooming with a man, let alone one as… peculiar as Spencer Reid. Not in a bad way, of course—just, well, peculiar. Spencer was the last person Y/N expected to respond to her ad for a roommate, but she was glad he did.

At barely twenty-one, he already had two bachelor’s degrees and was deep into his third PhD. He’d graduated high school at twelve (an IQ of 187 had a way of doing that, she supposed), skipping the years most kids spent developing their social skills. As a result, he was incredibly awkward and nerdy, but Y/N found this more endearing than off-putting.

As a roommate, he was exceptional: he kept things tidy, wasn’t obnoxiously loud (even with their paper-thin walls), never had people over (which meant Y/N spent more time with him, as she didn’t have guests either), and even helped her study, despite her insistence she could handle it on her own (they both knew better). As a friend, he was even better—always listening to her ramble about anything and everything, joining her for their now-regular movie nights, and offering a shoulder to cry on when needed (and she was always there for him in return).

In the six months they'd lived together, they'd grown incredibly close. Y/N was even smugly certain that they had avoided the classic 'falling for your roommate' scenario—until Spencer came home ranting about a girl in his class.

“I mean, seriously! How hard is it to grab a paper without touching someone?” Spencer huffed, plopping down onto the couch next to her and reaching for the popcorn bowl that sat securely in her lap.

It took about three months of living together before Spencer felt comfortable enough to do things like share snacks during their movie nights or indulge in the occasional moment of physical affection.

Y/N never took it personally, understanding his aversion to germs (one of the first things he’d said when they met was that kissing was safer than shaking hands, and she’d almost jokingly taken him up on it). Every time Spencer felt comfortable enough to share food with her (like he was doing now) or lean into her on the heavier days, letting her hold him until the world felt a little lighter, her chest swelled with pride. It made her happy to know he trusted her enough to let his guard down like that.

Y/N raised an eyebrow as she listened to his rant. Apparently, a girl in the class he TA'd for had been getting on his nerves for weeks, but this was the first she’d heard about it. It didn’t surprise her—Spencer tended to bottle things up until they reached a breaking point, and then he'd unload it all at once, just like he was doing now.

"She’s always staring at me, too. Every time I glance up, there she is—staring and chewing on the end of her pen. It gives me the creeps," Spencer grumbled, a shiver running down his spine as he recalled it.

"Wait wait wait," Y/N stopped his rant with furrowed brows. "What did you say this girl's name was?"

"Her name’s Wren Davidson. You might know her—or at least know of her. I'm pretty sure she's in a few of the same classes as you," Spencer said, pausing to snack on some popcorn, though by now, their movie was all but forgotten as the starting menu looped on the screen. "She’s about 5'6", has dark brown hair with some highlights, and green eyes."

Y/N pressed her tongue to her cheek, thinking for a moment. The name sounded strangely familiar…

"Oh! I know who you mean—she's in my 8:00 AM lecture with Professor James on Tuesdays and Thursdays," Y/N said, snapping her fingers as she remembered. She popped a piece of popcorn into her mouth, then tilted her head. "So, just to recap—she's asking you questions instead of the professor, touching you whenever you hand out papers, staring at you… and what else?"

Spencer adjusted his glasses and leaned forward, clearly frustrated.

"She’s been bringing me coffee lately, even though I’ve told her a million times I don’t want it because you always make it just the way I like before I leave and I don't need more. And when she doesn’t bring coffee, it’s some kind of baked good. I don’t get it! If she’s looking for favoritism, why not try to suck up to the professor? I’m just the TA."

A sudden tightness gripped Y/N’s chest as she processed his words. It was clear now—Wren was flirting with him. But why did that thought send an unexpected wave of discomfort through her? Jealousy, maybe? No, that didn’t make sense... Why would she be jealous?

“She’s not looking for favoritism, Spence. She’s looking for a way to get into your pants,” Y/N snickered, ignoring yet another wave of unease that crashed into her at the mental image of Spencer actually having sex with Wren. Anyone would be uncomfortable thinking about their roommate having sex… right? That was a perfectly normal reaction.

Spencer suddenly choked on the popcorn he’d just popped into his mouth, coughing violently and startling Y/N. Without thinking, she leaned over, gently patting his back as concern flooded her expression. When the coughing finally subsided into a weak wheeze, she reached for his glass of water on the coffee table and handed it to him with a worried glance.

"Jesus, Spencer! Are you okay?"

"Why would you say that?"

Spencer's voice was unnervingly high, his face flushed from both the coughing fit and his growing embarrassment. He took a slow sip of water, trying to steady his racing heart. Setting the glass down with trembling hands, he adjusted his crooked glasses, his gaze avoiding hers. "For the record," he muttered, his voice tinged with insecurity, "I highly doubt she’s trying to… get in my pants."

Y/N's expression softened from concern to sympathy as her hand moved to rub his knee in comfort.

She remembered the first (and only) time she’d gotten Spencer to drink with her, how, in his tipsy state, he’d opened up about his painful past. In a rare moment of vulnerability, he’d shared how brutally he’d been bullied as a child prodigy, and how those experiences had led him to avoid romantic relationships for fear of humiliation and rejection. That night marked the turning point in their relationship, transforming them from roommates who got along to actual friends—a change she would forever be grateful for.

"You’re too hard on yourself," Y/N said gently. "Trust me on this one. As a woman, I can tell you with absolute certainty—she's flirting with you." She added, her tone matter-of-fact.

Spencer gave her a doubtful look, but after a moment, his shoulders slumped in reluctant acceptance as he began to entertain the possibility. "We’ll see," he muttered, grabbing the remote and finally starting their movie night.

It turned out Y/N had been right.

Three weeks had passed without a word from Spencer about it, and Y/N figured Wren had gotten the message and moved on. But then she began to notice Wren walking into class with a little extra bounce in her step, a shy, almost giddy smile lighting up her face as she sat down. Y/N shrugged it off… until she noticed Spencer doing the exact same thing.

Spencer began coming home later and later after class, a goofy grin on his face as he wandered through the apartment or headed to his room. Y/N didn’t ask any questions, knowing he’d share whatever was making him so happy when he was ready—though she had a pretty strong hunch about who it was. By the fourth week, he finally felt comfortable enough to confide in her.

"You won’t believe this, but I finally just asked Wren straight up if she was flirting with me… and she said yes!" Spencer said, his excitement clear as he leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Y/N cook. "We’ve been spending time together after class, and, uh… I asked her out on a date for this Friday!"

Y/N froze mid-stir, caught off guard by the sudden pang of sadness that hit her. Why did she feel this way? She should be happy for him—he was her closest friend, after all. She cleared her throat, forcing herself to keep stirring as she pushed the unsettling thoughts aside for the moment.

"That’s great, Spence!" Y/N said, though her voice came out a bit tighter than usual. "So… what do you have planned for your date?"

Spencer began to ramble excitedly about what he had planned for Friday, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke. All it did was seem to make the feeling of dread and hurt creeping up on her worse, though she couldn't for the life of her understand why Spencer talking about his date had her so bothered. Maybe it was because she hadn't been on a date in over a year, having avoided the dating scene after her last breakup. That had to be it.

Y/N nodded absentmindedly, her mind fixated on the uneasy feeling growing inside her rather than his words. It had been so long since she’d felt anything like this, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make sense of why it was happening.

She wasn’t blind. She knew Spencer was ridiculously attractive (even if his wardrobe seemed to be straight out of an elderly man’s fashion catalog). And he was kind, thoughtful, and attentive—anyone would be lucky to date him. Yet, despite all that, she’d always seen him as nothing more than a friend. Or at least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

Fortunately, the timer went off, cutting Spencer off mid-sentence. He quickly shifted gears, helping her dish out their food. They moved to the living room, ready to enjoy their meal and unwind with TV, as they always did.

Spencer couldn’t help but notice that Y/N was quieter than usual. She didn’t join in with her usual banter during the show, instead taking absent-minded bites, taking bites between distant, unfocused stares at the screen. His brow furrowed as he put his fork down, observing her slowly push her food around without really eating.

"Y/N… are you alright?" Spencer asked, lowering the volume on the TV. "You’ve barely touched your food."

"Hm?" Y/N looked up, offering a faint smile as she shrugged. "Yeah… I’m fine, Spence. Just a little tired, I guess."

He didn’t fully buy it, but he decided not to push further. "How about a nap in my lap while I grade papers, then? After dinner, of course. I don’t want your head in my food," Spencer joked, pleased with himself. His lame humor had her rolling her eyes and grinning, stifling a laugh.

That had become normal for them: napping or cuddling, quick pecks on the cheek or top of the head when one of them left, cooking and eating together… the list went on. But the more Y/N thought about it, the more she realized it didn’t exactly align with typical roommate behavior. Or maybe it did, and she was just overanalyzing, letting the strange feeling she couldn’t shake make her paranoid.

"That sounds perfect," Y/N agreed, silently hoping the nap would help clear her mind.

They finished dinner, chatting between bites about their day. Spencer, ever the gentleman, told her to stay on the couch while he cleared their plates and rinsed them. After grabbing the stack of papers he needed to grade for Professor Hartman from his room, he returned, settling back onto the couch with a grin as he patted his lap.

Y/N eased into his lap, stretching her legs out across the couch as she nestled her head into the crook of his neck with a contented sigh. Spencer ran a hand down her back as she settled in, giving her hip a gentle pat before picking up the first paper to grade.

It didn't take long for Y/N to drift off in his arms, her breath warm against his skin as he graded papers. The room was quiet except for the soft rhythm of her breathing, the rustling of the papers as he flipped through them, and the occasional hum of a car passing outside. Spencer paused his grading, his gaze drifting down to Y/N as she slept peacefully in his arms. A fond expression softened his features as he watched her, her calmness soothing him. Slowly, he reached up and caressed her cheek with his knuckles, then resumed his work, his gaze lingering for just a moment longer.

Spencer’s eyelids drooped as he made his way through the last few papers, small yawns escaping him between each one. When he finished, he quietly set the stack on the coffee table, taking care not to disturb Y/N. With a gentle shift, he settled back into the cushions, bringing one hand to cradle her head as he adjusted their position on the couch. He carefully maneuvered so he could stretch out before pulling her closer, tucking her into his side.

It was late enough that Spencer didn’t see the need to wake her; he knew if he did, she’d be up for hours. Reaching behind him, he turned off the lamp, letting the room fall into darkness. The soft rhythm of her breathing eased him, and soon, he drifted off, her warmth grounding him. In minutes, they were both asleep, entwined in the quiet comfort of each other’s arms.

As the week passed, Y/N found it increasingly difficult to cope with the thought of Spencer going on his date with Wren. Every time he brought it up, she quickly steered the conversation elsewhere or found an excuse to slip away, guilt gnawing at her with every evasive move. She hated herself for it—he was genuinely excited, and she didn’t want to ruin that. But every mention of the date made her stomach twist, and she couldn’t bring herself to face it without feeling like she was being torn apart.

Y/N finally understood why the idea of him going on a date was so devastating to her nervous system.

Late Tuesday night, as Y/N lay awake in bed, a sudden, jarring realization hit her: she had fallen in love with Spencer. Somewhere over the past seven months, amid shared laughs, quiet moments, and unexpected tenderness, she had fallen hopelessly for the brilliant, quirky man she had sworn she'd never fall for.

And now, because she was a spineless coward who was too afraid to risk their friendship by speaking up, she found herself helping Spencer get ready for his date.

"Spencer, seriously—hold still! I'm almost done," Y/N grumbled, her tongue poking from the corner of her mouth as she fixed his hair.

Spencer let out an exasperated sigh but stopped shifting, almost going cross-eyed as he tried to focus on her. She was so close now that he could almost taste the minty freshness of her gum, her breath brushing his face making him more flustered than he expected. He nervously twiddled his fingers in his lap, his curiosity piqued as he waited to see how she had tamed his unruly strands.

"There you go. What do you think?" Y/N grinned proudly, stepping back to give him space as he stood from where he was sitting on the toilet lid, turning to face the bathroom mirror.

Spencer turned his head from side to side, eyes lingering on his reflection. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he examined himself. For the first time, he felt it—he felt good. Like he could finally see what Y/N saw when she insisted he was handsome. Instead of his typical gelled, slicked-down look, she'd arranged his hair to accentuate his face, giving his features a more defined, natural appeal.

"I... Y/N, I love it. Thank you," Spencer breathed earnestly, turning to pull her into a warm hug.

Y/N smiled gently, wrapping her arms around him. The newfound confidence in his eyes was enough to ease the ache in her chest about his date. At least, she thought, he was finally seeing himself the way she always had—worthy and deserving of feeling this good.

“Of course, Spence. Anything for you,” she murmured, the words feeling heavier than she intended. She meant it, though. She would do anything for him—even if it meant shattering her own heart along the way.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Y/N released a long, shaky breath, pressing her forehead against the cool wood for a moment before slowly making her way to Spencer's room. He had told her not to wait up, mentioning he planned on going to Wren’s afterward. So, she curled up in his blanket, clutching his pillow to her chest, trying to let the comfort of his familiar scent quiet her restless mind.

Less than five minutes passed before the tears began to fall, each one soaking into the fabric of his pillow as a sob broke free from her chest. She felt pathetic. There she was, crumpled in his bed while he was out on a date, all because she couldn’t find the courage to tell him how she felt—too afraid to admit the truth, convinced that he could never feel the same way about her.

The hours slipped by in a blur, her tears long gone as exhaustion weighed heavily on her. Too weary to move to her own bed, she simply tossed her pants to his floor, closed her eyes, and let sleep take over in the comfort of his sheets. She'd remake his bed in the morning before he got home, hoping he'd never know about the quiet, tearful night she'd spent there.

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, his fingers grazing his scalp as he quietly unlocked the door and stepped into the dark apartment. The date had gone fine, nothing awful… but there was a difference between nice and right. Wren was nice, but she wasn’t the one his heart had been quietly waiting for. That person was the other half of this apartment, likely fast asleep in her room, just as he’d told her to be—and he couldn’t shake the feeling she should’ve been the one he’d been out with tonight.

Spencer hung his jacket on the coat rack and slipped off his shoes, setting them neatly by the door. He headed toward his room, eager to leave the awkwardness of the evening behind and looking forward to starting the next day with the one person who truly made his world feel right. Though Y/N wasn’t his, there was a quiet comfort in knowing she was always the first face he’d see each morning. Maybe one day, he'd find the courage to tell her how he felt. But for now, he was content cherishing their friendship.

He couldn't shake the slight guilt he felt for Wren, a cringe running through him as he replayed the moment she'd tried to kiss him when he dropped her off. When she leaned in, he'd jerked back instinctively, his eyes wide in shock, leaving her face flushed with embarrassment. He’d apologized immediately, of course, and she’d been kind enough to accept it before hurriedly retreating into her house. Still, he couldn't help but feel the discomfort linger, knowing their interactions in class would be uncomfortable from here on out.

Spencer pushed open his door, too exhausted to bother with the light as he shrugged off his clothes, blindly stumbling toward the bed. He let out a sigh of relief as he collapsed onto the mattress—only to freeze when something beneath him let out a loud, panicked yelp. He scrambled back in shock, crashing to the floor in a clumsy heap, cursing loudly.

"What the fuck?" Spencer gasped, reaching for his lamp from the ground as he quickly sat up.

Y/N blinked at him in startled surprise, her brow furrowed and mouth slightly agape as she took in the sight of him sprawled on the floor. Spencer felt a wave of relief wash over him, his body sagging as he realized she wasn’t some weird, perverted burglar waiting for him. Still, as the shock wore off, confusion crept in. Why was she in his bed?

“Are you alright?” Y/N squeaked, instinctively reaching down to help Spencer back onto the bed. Her mind was still foggy with sleep, and her heart was racing from the jarring wake-up call.

Spencer quickly slid under the covers, suddenly self-conscious of his state of undress, his face flushing as he glanced at her. He cleared his throat and gave a small nod. "I'm good, just… uh, why are you in my bed?"

Y/N hesitated, her teeth gently catching her lower lip as she searched for an excuse that wouldn't sound ridiculous. But nothing came to mind. With a deep breath, she finally decided to just tell him the truth.

"I… I wasn't handling your date with Wren very well," Y/N confessed, her voice low. "I came in here hoping to get some peace because being near you usually makes me feel better. But instead, I just ended up crying myself to sleep in your bed. I'm really sorry," she added, her brows knitting together as she looked at him. "Wait—why are you here? I thought you were going to stay at Wren's."

Spencer’s expression softened as he took in her words. “I chose to come home,” he said quietly. “Wren’s nice, but tonight made me realize there’s really only one person I want across from me, or kissing me, or… anything else.” He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “But what do you mean you weren’t handling my date well? Why did you cry yourself to sleep, sweetheart?”

Y/N’s heart clenched at his words, a wave of worry washing over her as her fatigue made it harder to hold back what she was feeling. Who could he possibly be talking about? She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself before she finally spoke.

“I’ve been trying to figure this out for a while,” she began, her voice soft but steady. “And, Spence… I think I’m in love with you. I’ve probably been in love with you for a long time, but I was too afraid to admit it to myself. Every time I thought about you with her, I felt so… sick. So jealous. Because I wanted to be the one you were with. I wanted to be the one you fell in love with.”

The words hung in the air between them, raw and unguarded. It was out in the open now. There was nothing left to hide.

To her surprise, Spencer let out a soft chuckle. Before she had a chance to take offense, he reached for her hands, holding them gently as he spoke.

"Y/N… you're already the one I've fallen in love with," Spencer confessed, his voice steady as his eyes held hers. "You're the reason I came back. As I sat across from her, it hit me—there’s no one else in this world that I’d rather be with than you."

Y/N blinked hard, ensuring that she wasn’t asleep and that this wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t. He was still there when she opened her eyes, sitting cross legged and vulnerable (and enticingly bare under the covers) before her as he waited for her to respond. He tilted his head at that, laughing softly as his face scrunched in confusion.

“What are you doing, silly girl? I confess my love to you and your response is to blink at me like an owl?” Spencer teased, his nose twitching as he grinned.

Y/N huffed out a laugh of her own, gently squeezing his hands as she shook her head. “I’m sorry! I just— I wanted to make sure this was real,” she murmured, her eyes falling to their hands in her lap.

“Would… would a kiss help to solidify that it’s real?” Spencer offered, a shy smile on his face.

Y/N’s eyes widened at that, baffled but pleased with his newfound confidence. Maybe she should do his hair more often. Without a word, she nodded eagerly, leaning forward to gently capture his lips with her own.

The press of his lips against hers sent her spinning, as though reality itself was slipping away and all that remained was the grounding warmth of his hands cradling her face. Spencer’s kiss was all-encompassing—like she was the very breath he needed to live. She craved more, desperate to fan the flames between them until the heat ignited, consuming them both from within.

Spencer’s lips never left hers as he gently tilted his head, deepening the kiss with a slow, deliberate movement. He carefully lowered her to the bed, his hands supporting her as he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers. "Feel real enough for you, yet?" he whispered, his breath warm against her skin, the faintest brush of his lips lingering as if he couldn’t bear to pull away for even a second.

Y/N rolled her eyes at his teasing, lacing her fingers into his hair to tug gently in retaliation. The whine he let out sent a sharp pang of desire up her spine, and she tugged harder just to hear it again.

“Mm, not yet. I think you’ll have to do it again to really convince me.”

The words barely filled the space between them before his lips were back on hers. She let out a soft exhale as his hips settled against hers, unable to help the giggles that slipped free when she felt his hard cock pressing against her through his boxers. She wasn’t laughing at him, not at all. She was just lost in pure, blissful joy, reveling in the realization that he was finally hers.

“Stop giggling and kiss me back,” Spencer muttered, his voice laced with playful frustration, but her laughter was contagious, and soon he was laughing too. Their lips remained pressed together, but it was more of a chaotic, shared moment than an actual kiss. As they pulled away, both of them breathless, the last of his nerves melted away, and they simply stared at each other, the connection now clearer than ever.

Spencer had imagined plenty of times what it would look like to have her splayed underneath him in his bed (thoughts that were shamefully fueled by her soft sounds of pleasure through their shared wall whenever she thought he was asleep). Nothing his imagination had dreamed up could ever compare to the sight before him. She looked utterly captivating, her cheeks flushed, lips slightly swollen from their kisses, eyes looking up at him with that familiar warmth. He always thought she was beautiful, without a doubt. But in this moment? She was a living, breathing work of art. A stunning, half-dressed masterpiece who was wrapping her legs around his waist with a shit-eating grin and—

“Oh—!”

Spencer squeaked as Y/N arched her hips into his again, grinding against him in a way that provided delicious friction against his aching cock. Spencer had never been more turned on than he was in this moment, the need thrumming through his veins driving him to rock gently against her in return.

Y/N’s grin faltered as her breath hitched, her brows pinching together as he began to thrust shakily against her through their underwear. Her mouth dropped open into a silent gasp as the head of his arousal brushed against her clit through the thin fabric, a helpless whine leaving her lips shortly after as he repeated the movement.

They were both too tired and too in love to rush their first time together (and Spencer’s first time in general), so they settled for this: the steady push and pull of their hips grinding together as their lips began to devour each other’s once more. The room quickly filled with their muffled noises of pleasure; soft moans and whimpers between passionate kisses and the rustling of his covers as they moved against each other creating an explicit symphony.

Spencer’s movements became more fervent as Y/N licked into his mouth, her nails dragging across his shoulder blades encouraging him to keep going. His body trembled as he felt her arousal dampening the front of his boxers, a guttural moan wrenching its way from his throat. She was soaked. All because of him.

Y/N’s head tipped back against his pillows, her eyes squeezed shut as she felt the pleasure coiling tightly in her lower stomach. His lips immediately moved to the crook of her neck, nipping and sucking gently at the skin there between whimpers of her name. It felt erotic, the both of them so turned on despite their exhaustion that they couldn’t help their movements, desperate to experience the other falling apart.

She’d make it up to him later, when she could actually take her time with him and make his first time something special, something memorable. But for now, she was perfectly content with this.

“Spence I’m—“ Y/N gasped, tangling her fingers into his hair as she began to writhe underneath him. “I’m about to—“

Her orgasm washed over her like a cold bucket of water, yanking the air from her lungs and making her body tense up as she cried out his name and clung to him. Spencer groaned alongside her, pulling his head from the crook of her neck so that he could watch her in awe. The sight alone almost had him cumming, his movements growing frantic as he chased his pleasure.

Her soft whines urged him closer and closer to the finish line as he rutted against her, and all he could manage was a soft shout of her name before his climax took hold of him, his cock throbbing against her as he spilled into his boxers. He collapsed against her, thrusting weakly with small whimpers to ride out both of their highs before his hips finally stilled.

Their chests heaved as they laid together, catching their breath. Y/N’s hands raked through Spencer’s hair, fighting to stay awake long enough so that they could clean up. When Spencer could finally move, he lifted up onto his forearms, pressing small, gentle kisses to her lips with murmured thank you’s before he climbed out of his bed to grab a towel from the bathroom. Once they were cleaned and stripped out of their cum-soaked clothes (to which Y/N and Spencer both giggled excessively about as they wriggled out of them), Spencer reached over to turn off his lamp.

Drained but happy, they collapsed into each other’s embrace, winding together in Spencer’s bed and surrendering to the pull of sleep. Just before sleep claimed him, Spencer pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to Y/N’s forehead, whispering, "I love you, my sweet girl."

A soft smile tugged at his lips when he heard her whisper back, "I love you too, my sweet boy."

REMINDER: I do NOT give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, Tiktok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

[covenofagatha]

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 4)

Rio helps you relax after your revelation about being framed

Word count: 3150

Warnings: oral, more murder

The sound of your breathing is so loud in your own head that it takes Dr. Vidal calling your name four times for you to actually hear her. 

“They’re trying to frame me,” you turn around and say frantically, hands fastening in your hair as you start to pace back and forth. Your therapist watches bemusedly. “They took the knife when they were here and killed that guy in a different way so it would look like someone else did it, they planted the knife in the woods so that it would all trace back to me, and if I bring that in…” 

Dr. Vidal finally stands up and leans against the table. “You think The Witch and Lady Death want you arrested?” 

You don’t know what to think. They broke into your motel room, left a flower and a circle on your sticky note that, if anything, gave you a clue, and now they’re setting you up for murder? It doesn’t make any sense, there’s a piece missing, but you can’t find it. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know,” you chant and Dr. Vidal grabs you by the forearms. 

“Breathe,” she orders and holds you while she shows you how to inhale and exhale. “You’re spiraling.” The diagnosis makes you laugh hysterically. Of course you’re spiraling! “Sit down,” she says, gently pushing you onto the couch. You obey and keep taking deep breaths. 

Slowly but surely, your heart rate starts to slow down and the fog in your head starts to clear. 

“You’re under a lot of stress,” Dr. Vidal says. “This is a case unlike nothing you’ve ever dealt with before.”

You frown. “How do you know–” 

“These killers are smart, dangerous,” she keeps talking like you didn’t speak at all. “But so are you. How are you going to catch them?” 

Shrugging weakly, you slump back against the couch. “I don’t even know where to start,” you admit. “There hasn’t been one of their signature murders since I’ve gotten here, I haven’t been able to examine a crime scene or talk to witnesses or anything. All I know is that we’re looking for two women who are lovers.”

“Have you tried thinking like them? What do you think they want?” 

“What do I think they want out of poisoning innocent people with a drug they invented and then carving out their hearts? What does someone gain from that?” 

You try to imagine doing that to someone. Putting the poison in their food or drink, watching the light slowly leave their eyes as they try to figure out what happened to them. Their skin slowly tightening over their bones, cheeks hollowing out. Neatly sliding a knife into their chest and then holding their heart in your bare hands. A shiver runs through you involuntarily. 

“Power,” you answer your own question, knowing that you’re right. The fantasy has you feeling the same way as you did with Agatha yesterday, full of adrenaline and something else. Dr. Vidal has a strange look on her face, almost orgasmic, as you come to that conclusion. 

“Why do they want power?” she asks in a hushed voice. 

You bite your lip and hold your gaze steady on her. “Who doesn't?” 

Dr. Vidal falls to her knees in front of you so her face is almost level with yours. A thrill runs through you. “Do you?” she rasps. 

Gulping, you nod and then she practically lunges at you, mouth finding yours in a scathing kiss, all lips, teeth, and tongue, and you moan. Is this the arrangement her and Agatha have? What one gets, the other gets, too? 

Is it getting, or is it taking? 

Either way, it’s crossing a line, so many lines, but you don’t care right now. You need this. 

“Doctor,” you gasp and she chuckles into your mouth, hands delving into your hair. Your fingers scramble to yank at the lapels on her blazer and she climbs into your lap, the warm weight a grounding force for your spinning mind. She kisses so much like her wife, but also so different at the same time, and you can’t help but want to know what it looks like when they kiss. The thought causes heat to flash through you.

Her lips trail down your neck and then she sinks her teeth into your clavicle, the low-cut of the bathrobe giving her lots of room to work with. The pain makes you keen and 

Snow. 

Trees. 

A clearing in the woods. 

You shake your head and squeeze your eyes shut to get rid of the same images from your therapy session the other day. Dr. Vidal doesn't notice if you falter, leaving more bites all over your chest. Entangling your fingers in her hair when she unties your robe, you try to submerge yourself into the pleasure you feel. 

Her tongue sucks on your hardened nipple and you whine, back arching off the couch. “Please,” you pant and she pauses to grin at you. The electricity from yesterday is back, crackling under your skin with a vengeance, and you need Dr. Vidal to put it out. 

“Lie down,” she says and quickly stands up so you can move until you’re on your back, lying horizontally on the couch. She gets back on, between your legs, and pushes your robe apart so that she can see all of you. 

Her mouth finds its back back to your breasts and she nibbles on the underside of it, and then she moves down, sucking on the skin of your stomach. 

She pauses and you know immediately what she’s found. 

Before you can offer a short explanation for the ugly scar on the left side of your belly, her tongue licks up the length and you sharply inhale. Her eyes find yours to make sure it’s okay and you nod.

Kisses are peppered all over the wrinkled tissue and you rest your head back against the couch. It had been really hard for you to be naked in front of someone after that, and now here is your therapist, worshipping it like it’s a work of art. 

Dr. Vidal bites at your hip bone, resuming her quest downward, and it feels so good 

Snow. 

Trees. 

A clearing in the woods. 

A frozen stream that you kneel in front of and look down to see your reflection in. 

She sucks a kiss into your upper thigh and it pulls you out of your head, the memories flashing away. You try and grab back onto them, desperate to see who it was, but they’re gone. 

Your groan is out of frustration at first, but quickly turns into one of pleasure when she drags her tongue through the folds of your pussy. 

“Oh, fuck, Doctor,” you whimper, fingernails digging into the couch on both sides around you. 

Her deep laugh sends vibrations all through you and it makes wetness leak out of you. “I think you can call me Rio now,” she says and you nod breathlessly before she dives back in. 

There is no warm up, no building to anything; it’s like she’s trying to get as much of you in her mouth as she can. She is determined to not let a drop go to waste and her slurping sounds almost drown out the noises that are slipping out of your mouth. 

Her tongue thrashes against your clit, making your hips roll up against her face, and then she curls it inside you, stroking up to make you gasp. She sucks and swirls and licks and you’re getting ever so close 

Snow.

Trees. 

The frozen stream. 

You look down into it, peer at the reflection staring back at you and 

Two fingers are shoved into you while Rio roughly scrapes her teeth against your clit and it pulls an explicit moan out of you. 

“Rio, Rio, please,” you beg, almost in tears with how good it feels. You feel simultaneously so present and so far away at the same time and it’s like every single vein in your body has become a livewire, about to explode. 

She curls and scissors and twists her fingers, making you gasp and groan and whine. “What do you want?” Rio asks, her dark hazel eyes gleefully taking in your messy state. Your wetness stains her cheeks and you can’t help but clench. 

“I want to cum, I need to cum,” you plead and her smirk is wicked as she stuffs a third finger into you and watches you react as she flicks her tongue against your clit, barely giving you anything. Your eyes close in frustration at the loss of the intense stimulation that you need.

She sets a slow pace with her fingers and her mouth climbs up your body until she’s near your scar again. You tense when her lips press to it again. “You know, Agatha and I cannot wait to have you over.” 

“Really?” You gasp. You were right about the threesome then, it seems. It’s impossible to ignore how your body heats up at the thought. You didn’t know it was possible to want something this much. 

Rio chuckles. “Don’t be so shocked, doll. You’re such a pretty young thing. So smart, too. You’re everything that we’ve been wanting. We’ve been so patient, but you’re finally here now,” she coos and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You raise your head to ask what exactly she means when she leans back down to suck on your clit and harshly thrusts her three fingers into you, pulling a loud moan out of you as you cum hard all over her hand and face. 

Your mind goes blank for a second and there’s no thoughts in your head at all when

Snow. 

Trees. 

The frozen stream. 

You look down into it, peer at the reflection staring back at you and it’s ten-year-old you, staring back at you. 

Lurching back, you fall into the slippery wet mud on the bank, getting your clothes all dirty. 

You peek back into the ice and it’s still you, from over fifteen years ago. 

Laughter fills the air. 

Standing up and brushing your hands on your jacket, you follow the sound into a clearing in the woods. 

Snow crunches underneath your boots and you squint through the falling precipitation to make out something in the tree line. 

Something draws you in closer. 

A stick under your foot cracks and red birds flutter from the branches, startled.

The figure — a person, you can now tell — whirls around and 

“You okay?” Rio asks and it jolts you out of whatever you were seeing. You try to reach for the fleeting tendrils of the memory, but they’re too fast. 

You’re laying on the couch, Rio sitting back on her heels still between your legs. Her face still gleams with your wetness. 

You palm your forehead and wipe the sweat off. “The flashes from your office yesterday? I kept getting more just now. I think it’s a memory from my childhood.” 

“You were seeing things while I was eating you out? Not a great performance review,” she says, meaning to lighten the tension but she can see how serious you are. “Why don’t you tell me about them?” 

“It was snowing in the woods again. I was walking through them, found a frozen river, and saw the reflection of myself from when I was a lot younger, like ten or so. And then there was laughing so I followed it, and I think I saw a person,” you tell her, sitting up and tying your robe back together. The cold air in the room has given you goosebumps. 

She taps a finger to her mouth. “Did you see the person?” 

You shake your head and you try to force through whatever block is in your brain, but the thrumming behind your eyes comes back. “It disappeared right before I could. I don’t understand, I don’t remember any of this.” 

“Did you live someplace where it snowed around that age?” Rio asks gently and you frown. 

“I was nine when we moved to Massachesetts. We weren’t there for very long, only for a little over a year. I don’t know why we left though,” you say, the pain in your head getting greater when you strain to find the reason. “Do you think it could have something to do with what I can’t remember?” 

She shrugs. “Sometimes it’s best not to ask questions about things you don’t understand just yet. It seems that your memories, or this one specifically, are slowly coming back in pieces. Don’t rush it or you may not get the whole, true story. Let it come to you naturally.” 

“I’ve never had this happen before,” you admit, the fear of feeling like something is happening to you creeping into your tone. Is it something about this town? “I didn’t know I had this block, or whatever. But now that I’m here, it’s like I can’t stop getting these flashes. I think I’m losing my mind.” Saying it out loud makes it sound irrational, but you know Rio is listening to you intently. 

She reaches a hand out to cup your cheek. “You’re not losing your mind. Everything will make sense soon enough, I promise. You’ll get all the answers you want.”

“Why did you have my clothes?” 

Rio’s head ducks down in amusement, tongue pushing against the inside of her cheek again. It must be a habit, maybe a nervous one? “You really don’t remember?” 

You shake your head. You think you would at least partially recall it if your therapist had undressed you and taken your clothes. 

“You called me,” she says, and your jaw drops open. 

“No,” you answer faintly. “I mean, I did that first night, if that’s what you mean, but I never told you to come take my clothes.” 

“Yesterday,” she tells you levelly. “A few hours after I saw you. You asked me if I could come to your motel, you sounded really frantic. So I did. You were naked and you handed me the bag of clothes. I took them home, washed them, and now you have them back.” 

The pounding in your head gets worse. “You washed them?” 

Rio tuts and gets up from the couch, walking over to the soup that is still on the counter. She picks up a different spoon from the caddy, stirs it into the liquid, and then brings it over to you. “It’s still warm so eat it while you can.” 

She’s being evasive, hiding something about yesterday, but you can’t force her to answer the questions. So you raise a spoonful of chicken noodle to your lips and eat it under her watchful eyes. 

It’s about room temperature now, but there’s a hint of something else, tasting almost like syrup. 

“What’s in this?” You ask as Rio takes the spoon from you and feeds you herself after you stop after the first bite. 

She hums absentmindedly and your scar starts to tingle. She positions the utensil at your closed lips and raises her eyebrow until you open and swallow. “It’s chicken noodle soup, doll, what do you mean?” 

After a few more, your eyelids start drooping and your body feels fuzzy. “Did you…drug me?” Your limbs are limp and you slowly fall sideways to lean against the back of the couch. 

“You were sick. Some rest will help you recover,” she says like it makes perfect sense. 

“Are…you…The Witch?” The words take an immense effort and you heave with each one. You’re struggling to stay conscious and you know you’re about to lose the battle. 

Rio chuckles and it echoes around the room. “No, doll, I am not. And that’s the truth.” She stands up and pats her hands on her thighs. “I’m just curious about something.” 

You don’t even have the energy to ask about what. 

She strokes your hair and it almost feels nice with her nails. “You’re so brilliant, you know that?” 

Your eyes flutter shut just as she bends down to kiss your forehead. The door closes sounding so far away and then there’s nothing. 

When you wake up an indiscernible amount of time later, your mouth is incredibly dry and your head is groggy. It feels like your body is in a vat of molasses. 

Your muscles are tight and sore and when you get off the couch, you look down and realize that you’re naked again. You tear the room apart looking around for your phone and find it eventually between the bed and nightstand on the floor. 

It’s eight at night. 

You open it up and you’re about to text Rio and ask if she has your clothes again, but then you remember that she did this to you. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if she had come back and taken the robe just to mess with you. 

There’s something weird about the people here. 

Your phone buzzes with a call from Agatha. You raise it to your ear and accept it. 

Before you can say anything, she starts talking. “Hey, superstar, hope you’re feeling better. Would you be able to get down here? I’ll text you the address.” 

“Another murder?” You ask but she’s already hung up. 

Still a little out of it, you pull on some more clothes and get in your car. It’s about ten minutes away, still in the woods, in the other direction of the murder from yesterday. 

Two back-to-back like this indicates frustration or feelings of superiority. Do they want to be caught?

When you get there, you only see Agatha’s car though, and she’s leaning against it. You get out of yours and slam the door, walking over. 

“Where is everyone?” You ask. 

“I wanted you to get a look at this first,” she says and leads you into the trees. You don’t have to go very long before you stop. 

It’s the most blood you’ve ever seen in your entire life. It’s another man this time, but he’s spread eagle in the snow and there’s a long gash running from his chin down to his pubic hair, his chest entirely split in two. 

You gag at the smell and raise your hands to your mouth in case you throw up, but then you notice the metallic scent on them. 

Agatha shines her flashlight on you as you look at your fingers to find dried blood under your fingernails. You meet her eyes in horror, fear coursing through you. 

It doesn’t make sense. 

But Agatha doesn’t look surprised, or scared. If anything, she looks delighted. 

“I think you better come to our place tonight,” she says, and stretches an arm around you, tucking you into her side. 

Your breaths are shaky as she leads you back to her car, back to her house, to her and Rio. 

[hrtzstargirl]

I Wanna Be Yours.

Danielle Marsh.

Synopsis: She figured it out. Why she keeps throwing you those loving eyes, after a long time of being confused finally she is certain about one thing. Being yours.

Part 1

Pairing: Danielle Marsh x 6th!member!reader

Warnings/side notes: I decided to make a part 2 of my first Danielle fic, I thought it's cute and necessary because of how the first ended🥲 I'm posting a lot these days, cuz it's winter break! I am feeling that christmas spirit that's why I'm not lazy the past few days LMAO, anyway MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!

--

Danielle is confused. She's very confused, why? Because Minji's words are starting to hit her, she couldn't get her words out of her head. She's been acting different lately but is trying to mask it by being bubbly as usual.

One thing she hates the most whenever she's feeling like this or when she's out of her mind—is that you noticed. You always did and Danielle hates it. She hates how you can read her like an open book, hates it how you know her better than herself, hates it when you understand her feelings better than she does.

Due to the stress, she's been distancing herself from you and it's driving you insane. And the fact that Hanni's words seems to hit too.

Danielle slumped down on the couch, her mind seems to be drifting to somewhere else. The noises of the green room fell on her deaf ears. There she is again, zoning out, staring into the distance.

No matter how much she tried, her thoughts will always comes back to you. Your smile, you laugh, your goofiness, your loser personality, how you make her feel like she's the only girl in this world, how you treat her, you're an entire green forest in her eyes.

She always found herself staring at you from afar with that same look, the same look she and Minji talked about, the same reason why she isn't feeling like herself the past few weeks.

She couldn't shake those butterflies in her stomach, she isn't a fool, she knows what it means. She's just wasn't sure why and how.

She feels the spot next to next sink, indicating someone sat next to her. She didn't have to turn her head to look, she know who it was.

"Dani, there it is again." She heard Minji let out a deep sigh.

"Can't help it if she looks like that." Danielle replied, her eyes glued to your figure, putting the ear piece on and letting the staff members fix the wires and your clothes.

"I know, but you're making this hard on yourself."

"I'm not... I'm just—taking the time to think about this thoroughly."

"Thoroughly? Why, isn't she worth the risk?" Haerin popped out, sending Minji an apologetic smile after she flinched.

"She is. She's worth everything I have, I'm just afraid that I will hurt her in the future. Hurt her because I couldn't get myself together.." Danielle responded, giving Minji no time to scold Haerin for popping out so suddenly.

"Danielle, she's worried. She noticed how you distance yourself. She knows everything and she don't like it." Minji placed her hand on Danielle's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"I know."

"You have to talk to her."

"I know."

Minji sighed, her voice softening. "Dani, sometimes the best way to figure things out is to talk about them. You owe it to yourself and to her."

"I know, just give me time." Danielle's eyes couldn't help but softened at the sight of you smiling ang giggling at something Hyein said.

"You have time, just make sure that time doesn't run out." Minji replied gently, giving Danielle's shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Danielle sighed, her gaze still fixed on you. "It's just... she's so important to me. I don't want to mess this up."

Minji smiled, her tone supportive. "I understand, Dani. But sometimes, you have to take risks for the people you care about. Talk to her, let her know what's been going on. She deserves to hear it from you."

"I will, unnie."

Minji gave her a reassuring smile before leaving to annoy Hanni. Danielle's eyes lingered on you for what felt like eternity before the staffs announced that they're up on stage next.

May God have mercy on her poor heart, you're too beautiful for the world to see, they don't even deserve to see you. Before Danielle get lost in her thoughts again, you turn around, catching her eyes before giving her a small smile and leaving.

"Bro! We're up next, come on!" Hanni's loud voice called out to her.

"Yeah, coming." She muttered before standing up to join the rest of the girls.

The whole performance, her eyes always finds you, the fans noticed it, the girls, and of course you did. It confuses you, avoiding you but kept her eyes on you, what's wrong with her?

A question even herself she can't answer. She watches you dance flawlessly, entrance the audience with your voice, bring even the strongest men on their knees with your beauty.

She's down bad, she wants you and she can't do anything about it. Not until she fixes herself and her mistakes to be better for you.

Danielle felt a storm of emotions swirling inside her. Every time she looked at you, her heart ached with longing. She couldn't tear her gaze away from you, no matter how hard she tried. The connection she felt was undeniable, but her own insecurities and fears held her back.

As the performance continued, Danielle's resolve began to waver. She knew she couldn't keep avoiding you forever. Sooner or later, she would have to confront her feelings and find a way to bridge the gap that had grown between you.

And maybe, just maybe, she would find the courage to tell you how much you meant to her.

--

The night is cold, colder than usual. Maybe it's because it's winter. Snow falls from the sky, landing softly on the ground, creating a serene, white blanket over everything. The streetlights cast a warm glow, illuminating the snowflakes as they drift lazily down.

You pull your coat around yourself, breath visible in the chilly air, the snow crunch between your feet as you walk wherever they take you. It's Christmas tomorrow, it's not your favorite holiday but it's still the best.

You stare at the lights in front of you, the silly light shows of Christmas decorations twinkling in a multitude of colors. Each one seems to pulse with its own rhythm, creating a mesmerizing display. The festive cheer in the air contrasts with the turmoil in your heart, and you can't help but feel a bit overwhelmed.

The decorations are whimsical, with reindeer prancing and Santa Claus waving from rooftops. The trees are adorned with glittering ornaments and garlands, casting a warm, inviting glow. It's a scene straight out of a holiday movie, but your mind is elsewhere, caught up in thoughts of Danielle.

As you take in the lights, you hear footsteps approaching. Turning your head, you see Danielle walking towards you, her breath visible in the chilly air. She stops beside you, her gaze also drawn to the decorations.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" She said without looking at you.

"Yeah.." You muttered a response but you weren't looking at the decorations anymore. Your gaze is now on the girl beside you, watching the lights reflect in her eyes, making them seem to sparkle, adding to the magic of the moment.

Why is she here? Wasn't she supposed to be with Haerin and Hyein? Did she ditched them to be here with me? Why is she like this..? Thoughts ran through your head, wondering and wondering.

After weeks of avoiding me, why is she here now? You couldn't help but feel an ounce of anger. She can't just ignore you and then act like nothing had happened between you two.

She turned to you, her eyes soft and held some emotions you couldn't explain—was it guilt? Sadness? Love-what? Maybe anger—why is she angry?

Your eyes stares at her face, you couldn't help but feel a weird feeling in your stomach, it's tickling yet comforting. It's a lovely feeling, she's getting beautiful each passing seconds, won't be long until she officially became a Goddess.

"Y/n." She said softly, hearing your name fall from her tongue makes you see stars, you never liked your name, but when she says it. It sounds so beautiful, like a prayer in the warm night air.

You felt a surge of emotions, your heart racing at the sound of your name spoken with such tenderness. The way she looked at you, with a mixture of hope and vulnerability, made your breath catch in your throat.

"Danielle." You replied with the same tone, the same tenderness she had used when saying your name.

A shiver ran down her spine as she heard her name spoken with such affection. It felt like the world had stopped, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of warmth amidst the cold night air.

The snow continued to fall softly around you, each flake adding to the quiet beauty of the moment. Danielle's eyes were filled with a storm of emotions—guilt, hope, and something deeper that you couldn't quite place but made your heart beat faster.

"I've missed you." She admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

You looked at her with a mixture of confusion and concern. "I never left, Dani. Why did you miss me?"

Danielle's eyes softened, a hint of sadness and vulnerability in her gaze. "It's not about you physically being here. It's about the connection we had, the closeness. I've been avoiding you because I was scared of my feelings. But in doing so, I felt like I lost you."

You felt a ache in your heart. Of course you missed her too, you want to be mad at her for avoiding you so suddenly. Maybe this is the chance for her to enlighten you why.

"I've missed you too. More than you know." You admitted, your voice tinged with both longing and frustration.

She felt it. Danielle felt the frustration in your voice, she's angry at herself for making you suffer her pain too. All she wanted for you was to be happy, but her distance affected you as well.

"I'm so sorry, my Y/n." Her voice trembling, vulnerability can be felt. "For distancing myself, for making you feel my pain too. I never meant for it to happen."

You stare at her in softly, the sincerity and remorse in her voice cutting through the frustration you had felt. You reached out, gently lifting her chin so her eyes met yours. Wiping the tear that feel from her beautiful eye.

"I thought having time alone with myself would help me realize that I want to be the best version of myself for you. You don't deserve the Danielle who shuts everyone out whenever she feels down. No, you deserve better—the one who will come to you when she feels down, the one who will never distance herself."

Your eyes filled with confusion, why is she telling you this? "Dani, what are you talking about?"

She choked up a sob, stopping herself from crying out loud. Her guilt is eating her alive, she doesn't have the strength to hide it anymore.

"I like you—wait no scratch that. I love you." She breath out, "I love you that's why I want to be better for you. I have bad habits, Haerin asked me why do I have to think this thoroughly? It's because I don't want to hurt you one way or another. I want you to have the Danielle you deserve. And right now, I am not the best version of myself. It sucks—I know, I hate it when you notices my mood before the others. hate it when you're there for me, hate you for being so understanding and beautiful, hate it when other people try to steal you from me, hate it when—"

She didn't have time to finish when you suddenly press your lips against hers. Effectively shutting her up, she stood frozen—unable to process.

For a moment, everything seemed to stand still. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in that intimate, breathtaking moment. Danielle's eyes widened in surprise, but slowly, she began to relax into the kiss, her hands gently finding their way to your waist, while yours on her shoulders.

Before you two could get lost in each others lips, you forced yourself to pull away, your cheeks flushed red, from the cold and blush spreading across your face.

Danielle's eyes fluttered open, her own cheeks mirroring the same rosy hue. She looked at you with a mixture of surprise and longing, her breath coming in soft, visible puffs in the chilly air.

"I love you too." That's all Danielle need to pull you in for another kiss, pull you closer until there was no space left between you.

The warmth of her embrace and the softness of her lips made your heart race. The world around you seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of you in that perfect moment. The snow continued to fall gently, creating a serene and magical backdrop for your kiss.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your cheeks flushed with a mix of cold and the intensity of your emotions. Danielle's eyes sparkled with happiness, and she smiled at you, her heart full of love.

"Please don't distance yourself again. My love, you're already the best version of yourself in my eyes, we can deal with anything as long as we're together. Promise me you won't do it again." You held out your pinky finger to her.

She smiled softly, the storm in her eyes now long gone, replaced by love and happiness. She interlocked her pinky finger with yours. "I promise."

"I wanna be yours." She whispered while staring into your eyes.

"You're already mine." You replied softly, a tender smile spreading across your face.

Danielle's eyes sparkled with happiness, and she felt a sense of peace wash over her. She couldn't be happier, and neither could you.

As you two shared your wonderful moment together, the girls watched from afar, Hyein was trying to bite into a candy cane, Haerin munched on cookies, while Hanni and Minji stood with pride smiles on their faces.

"How did you convinced Dani to finally talk to her?" Hanni asked, her eyes still glued to the two of you.

"I didn't, it's those two who did." Minji nodded towards the two younger members who's busy eating, earning an amuse chuckle from the other.

[darkfictionjude]

Nia - The meeting

1979

She thought that her mother was bringing her to the park far too frequently. She remembered how a long time ago — she isn’t good at giving a good estimate on time. It was probably a week ago — she begged to be taken to the park by the library.

Her mother had been so busy lately and she didn’t know why. Her mother didn’t have a job unlike her father.

Nia didn’t even know what a ‘job’ was but she knew that her father would leave when the sun was low but going up and come back when the moon was out.

She asked her mom if she had a ‘job’ and she had said her job was taking care of her.

Nia thought she was too big for anyone to take care of her. She could tie her shoelaces all by herself and knew how to make a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich.

“Mom, look!” Nia yells as she raises her arms above her head, sitting at the top of the slide.

Nia’s mother was rubbing her chin, her eyes downcast. Nia yells again, louder. Her mother looks up, her eyes searching throughout the park games. They find her daughter and she smiles quickly.

Something in Nia’s stomach twists, her mom’s smiles don’t last long anymore. She used to smile so much that Nia would forget what she looked like when she wasn’t. Now she can’t remember what it looked like when she was.

Nia pushes herself down the slide, the hard plastic hurting her legs. She lands on her feet, moving aside as the next kid comes down after her. She watches as her mother looks down at the ground again, she doesn’t look like she’s thinking about anything.

Nia looks at the kid who lands on their feet a few paces away. The kid is dressed drably. In muted colours that make the deep indents under their eyes look even more pronounced. They rub their hands and look at her.

They both blink at each other before the kid runs off to the monkey bars. An older boy on the swings warns them loudly to not run or they’ll fall. The kid doesn’t look like they heard him.

Nia has seen that kid around. They are always with the older boy. They look the same, they must be siblings. Nia wishes she had a sibling, sometimes. but then that wish goes away when she thinks about sharing.

The kid looks like they’re as old as her. Are they going to be in school together? She doesn’t know if she’d like that. They don’t seem to be like her. They don’t even dress like her. Nia rubs the mesh fabric of her dress.

Even if she did want to be friends with them, Father would never allow it. He says he knows who his little princess should be friends with. Father knows best.

Nia looks back at her mother. People say they look alike. The same hair, eyes and skin colour. Nia likes that. She thinks her mom is the prettiest mom in the whole world. A queen from her fairytale book.

Despite her age, Nia knows mother’s skin looks less alive than usual. Her hair doesn’t look like she used a comb in days and Nia is sure she has been wearing that yellow dress for more than a day.

But Nia doesn’t know what to say. ‘Are you ok?’ isn’t yet in her vocabulary. She takes a step towards her mom when she’s thrown to the ground.

Her cheek slides against the hard ground, her hip blossoms in pain. She lifts a hand up and sees tiny little rocks embedded in her palm.

She lifts her head up and sees the familiar figure of the kid laying on the ground next to them, their feet pointed towards Nia. Nia looks from them to the slide and stifles a little cry.

The older boy runs to their sibling’s side. She doesn’t pay attention to what he’s saying, his voice does sound mad but worried. Nia sits up and looks to where her mother was sitting.

Is sitting.

Her mom hasn’t moved. She’s still looking down. Nia feels like she wants to cry now. She sniffs and dusts her hands. She flicks little rocks stuck to her dress. She moves her feet to stand up.

“Are you ok?”

A hand is thrust in front of Nia’s face. She looks from that small hand, up the dull skin of their arm, to their shoulder, to their neck and finally to their face looking down at them.

The kid who pushed her down has a neutral look on their face. They don’t look sorry. They don’t even look worried. Nia wants to smile. Instead she picks herself up and stands at eye-level with them.

The kid drops their hand and says nothing. Nia tucks her hair behind her ears and places one hand on her hip.

“You didn’t say sorry.”

The kid doesn’t react to this, their eyes briefly flicking over to their older brother who’s standing a few feet away, watching them.

The kid looks down Nia’s dress, zeroing in on a certain part. “Your dress is ripped,” they say.

Nia looks down and sure enough there’s a small tear. She presses her lips together. She looks up at the other kid’s face.

“You ripped it. You need to pay for a new one,” she says. The other kid blinks once. Nia can’t tell if they are bored or plain dumb. She’s never seen a kid with eyes that look like the eyes of her goldfish when he died.

“I don’t have money,” they reply.

Nia looks over at her mother who stands up and slowly — eyes still somewhere else — walks down the path away from the park.

“I’m going home but you have to do everything I say for one month,” Nia says, not asking.

The kid follows Nia’s eyes and sees the lady in the yellow dress becoming smaller.

“Ok.”

Nia doesn’t respond and tries not to run as she attempts to reach her absentminded mother. The next day Nia comes to the park and she and her new assistant begin a month-long business agreement.

[wutheringvibe]

I dream of butterflies, black wings wide and gleaming, shimmering like dark silk under moonlight, delicate and terrifying, their fragile bodies clinging to me like they’ve known me forever, like they’ve decided I’m theirs. In my dream, I see her latched to my palm, her weight too heavy for something so fragile, and yet she didn’t feel like fragility, she felt like fury, like love sharpened into a blade. I crush her, half a wing bent and broken, black and big and beautiful. Her body doesn’t snap like I expect; it melts, smears, dragging a wet line of ichor down my skin, thick and dark and alive. She didn’t die. She didn’t even falter. She held on. Her legs were needles, her touch unbearable, a slow, creeping pain that spread like ink in water, curling into every corner of me. She burrowed into my flesh, hooked and unrelenting, puncturing the meat of my hand like needles dipped in venom. I could feel her drinking me, draining me. She didn’t just pierce, she carved, carving herself into me with a desperation that felt uncomfortably familiar, carving herself into me like a lover who cannot stand to be forgotten. It wasn’t the feeble flutter of an insect it was the deliberate grip of something wild, something enraged, something that knew how to hurt. She etched her existence into my palm with the precision of something that had been here a thousand times before. I tried to shake her off, but she only dug deeper, like those red ants that cling to your skin and refuse to let go, biting and biting until you bleed, leaving venom in their wake.

I think she hated me. I think she loved me. I think she wanted me dead. Her body stretched, her wings beat against my wrist, leaving trails of venom that bloomed into scars. She dragged herself through the blood pooling in my palm, smearing it in streaks like an artist signing her masterpiece. She wasn’t trying to fly away she was trying to make me stay, trying to force me to feel the weight of her. I wonder if it’s just love. Sick love. The kind that clings to you even when you know it’s going to kill you. She was hungry, or maybe just angry. Maybe hurt. I think she questioned why I hurt her. She wouldn’t let go. No matter how hard I tried, she held on. Persistent. Relentless. It made me think of all the times I have loved this desperately, violently, clinging to people with the same unrelenting grip, needing to mark them, needing to be remembered even if it meant leaving scars. How I fed on the people I claimed to love, draining them of everything until there was nothing left but the hollow echo of my presence. She wouldn’t let go, wouldn’t free me. She wanted me to feel every second of her existence, to understand her rage, her hunger, her need to hurt me as much as I had hurt her. She looked at me, black eyes unblinking, and dared me to destroy it. She let her venom flow, as if to say, this is what love feels like. This is what you’ve always done. I thought, This is it. This is the end. This is the poison that will kill me. She marked me with purpose, leaving behind the length of her body burned into my skin, a perfect, grotesque imprint, as if she had crawled into my skin and made a home there. As if she whispered, You will never forget this. I’m a figment of your imagination, but you’ll never forgive me. i won't let you. You will carry me with you always.

I don’t know how long I fought her. Long enough to bleed, long enough to cry, long enough to see the lines of my palm dissolve into the raw, red mess she left behind. She caged me. She was vicious. She was powerful. As I finally tore her from my palm, she left behind a sting so deep it felt like a wound in my soul, a burning that would never heal. I cried, not just from the pain but from the terrible knowledge she left behind.

I wake up thinking about love, about how it always feels soft and sharp, beautiful and bruising, something you can’t shake even when you want to. I think of wings folding into themselves, paper-thin, weightless, but carrying the entire world. Love is violent in its quiet way. Like a blade hidden in silk, slicing before you feel it, leaving you staring at the blood and wondering how it got there. I think of holding hands too tightly, of nails digging into skin until the mark stays, until the hurt lingers long after the touch is gone. I think of the kind of love that wraps itself around your throat, not enough to choke but enough to remind you it’s there, that it owns you, that you’ll never escape. I think of my need to carve words into flesh. Words like “mine” and “stay” and “don’t go.” I think of hands that love too hard, that hold on too long, that don’t know how to let go without breaking. I think of lovers who leave, their voices soft but their exits louder than the thunderstorm you didn’t expect, louder than the sound of your own heart cracking. There’s a violence to love that no one talks about, a hunger that gnaws at your ribs, that makes you forget how to breathe. It isn’t soft. It isn’t kind. It’s the butterfly that bites, the knife that cuts, the sun that burns even as it warms. It’s the wings leaving marks on your skin, a brand you’ll carry forever. I don’t know how to love gently. I don’t know how to touch without leaving bruises. I don’t know how to hold someone without wanting to consume them, to pull them into me so deeply that they’ll never find their way out. This is what my love does. This is what I do. I don’t know how to love without destroying. I know not how to love without violence. I don’t know softness. I only know to mark them so deeply they’ll never forget me even if they want to. She did to me what I do to others. I am terrified of her. Terrified of myself. This love, this venom, it flows through me like a curse. I sting without mercy. It’s only a matter of time before someone crushes me in their palm.

[thenewestxmen]

I am convinced that Wade had a really hard adjustment when Logan came into his life.

After I called after Logan when we returned to my home universe, I welcomed him into that shitty apartment. The only thing I regret informing Logan of is that it was a one bed apartment with a pull out couch. The second I got home. I introduced Althea to Logan and Logan, Althea. That night as everyone was welcoming Logan, mini Logan, and I back home, I announced we would in fact be moving out. Al already sometimes pays rent, and her disability insurance and checks should cover her. Logan doesn’t have money so he will stay with me, at least until he scrapes up enough money or sobriety to get his own place. That night, Wolverine takes the floor. 

“You can take the bed, I can take the floor unless you’re feeing a little hot.”

“The floor will do fine.” He says in a firm voice. He’s pretty much too tired to argue or call me a bitch. 

As I lay awake, insomnia slapping me across my ugly nutsack of a face, weirdly the only thing I can think of is what Logan said in the Honda Odyssey. The few hours ago, Vanessa had come over, she started to brag about Dermot or whatever his name was. “You couldn’t save a relationship with a god damn stopper!” His voice rang in my ears. “Gimme the dog and talk to the girl.” He had said. What’s the point? Some boring guy at her workplace was able to land her and I couldn’t. Figures, when I met her I literally paid her to tolerate me. I have no clue why she stayed after that. I attempted to flirt, but honestly… I’m not interested. I know, I know. I was willing to go back in time to get her back when she died, I know I blew myself up too. But honestly, what is so great… not to sound rude, but honestly, I’m a world famous merc and literally unable to die, so messed up I got an amazing sense of humor. And she was a stripper and left me when things got a little rough. I chatted with her a bit at the homecoming party, but after that, my eyes wandered… to Logan. Aw shit. The guys is hot. Come one Wade, pull yourself together!

Now I’m laying on the pull out, he’s three feet from me, sleeping and snoring softly. But still even though I’m just now realizing how incredibly handsome he is, how perfect even, it’s not the first time I’ve felt attracted to him. In the void, he held my hand and decided to die with me to help me. But even after he did so, his hurtful words still ring in my ears. My stomach weirdly hurts, like a cold pit dropped down my throat. That when I realize my face feels hot, and burning teas stream down my face. This doesn’t often happen, or at least not usually when I’m insulted. But Logan’s words really hit me hard I guess, and just now, as the words sink in a bit more, they push and force the salty hot tears out of me.

“Hmm… Wade?” I hear from behind me. Logan woke up and heard me… quickly I wipe the tears and turn to face Logan, resting my head back on the pillow. I hope my face isn’t too red and puffy, even through the darkness and lighting my scars make.

“Sleeping soundly peanut?” I say in a sexual voice. Although my dumbass self forget that little Angelbaby has great senses. I can see it on his face. He smells my salty tears.

“Why the fuck are you crying?” Logan says in tired deep voice.

“Im not crying, it’s just the moonlight reflecting off of your sugary tits into my eyes, so they look all shiny.” I say, half assed excuse. Obviously he doesn’t buy it and gets up, walking over to me, and starts laying on the other side of the pull out. 

“What’s wrong bub.” Why the hell do people ask that question when I’m trying not to cry?! I just burst into tears. 

“You… I… I can’t do anything right… you’re stuck we me, in my own universe! In my shitty apartment, stuck with a nutsack faced fucking failure.” I say in gasps for breath. He just pulls me in, holding me for a moment as my chest hurts and strains. Everything’s a wreck, I don’t want this life. I don’t want to live forever, I don’t want to be a merc or car salesman, I don’t want to be depended on. Logan just hushes me.

“It’s alright…” he says. He’s awful at this comfort shit but his deep smooth voice and warm embrace is rather soothing. He allows me to cry, soaking his shirt. I cry until I’m trembling and my jaw and chest hurts. Even when I stop because of the pain, he holds me. Everything is a mess and I want everything to be all better. I’m moving and the Wolverine is depending on me for a place to live and I am a mess and can’t have a good relationship with anyone… the closest thing to one is with my blind elderly roommate who despises me. Logan rocks back and forth, hushing and humming. He will occasionally say, “it’s ok Wade…” or something. My chest starts to stop aching and I just let him hold me, letting my eyelids close. I don’t know what I’ll do tomorrow, and I’m not looking to finding out. Everything’s a mess, and it’s all my mess.

authors note: should I turn this into another fic series? This is going well, I think I could go off this into a series, idk. Sorry I didn’t post this earlier, it took a while to write this bcs I was busy.

[astronicht]

we talk in the fandom so much about if marc got amnesia (waking up with broken a broken body and SEVERAL broken personal and professional relationships) but i often think about what an insane well of drama it would be for vale to have amnesia. would marc just SHOW UP with all his insane person confidence like well this time i can just do it better….

I’m answering these both at once because oh mein gott dot meme. I angled more towards the second one i think?? I also played a liiiittle fast and loose with the usual type of amnesia in the trope. The core trope tenants are still there!

“It’s like,” someone says, “Like when you should always agree with dementia patients.”

“And psychosis,” says Marc, smiling.

“What?” says Uccio.

“Psychosis,” says Marc, very slowly, in very clear Italian. It’s the same word in Italian and Spanish, almost, so no one can be misunderstanding him. Still, he bites down on each S, sharp as glass.

“Oh, okay.”

Yeah, okay, thinks Marc. You try dealing with it, then.

What no one in this house knows, excepting possibly Valentino, is that Marc has kept this successfully quiet for a week. It was a tour de force. The only thing he didn’t succeed at was getting Valentino to the Marc’s neuro specialist, because Marc, deep down, did not want to know. Wanted Valentino here, with him, saying yes yes if it makes you feel better before he made it real with a doctor.

Valentino does, sort of, remember the concept of Marc Marquez, because he remembers up to about 2010. Marc was fighting for the 125cc championship that year. He lost a baby tooth, and his mom told him not to tell anyone about it, because people fighting for the world championship shouldn’t be losing baby teeth. He had understood, and tried not to smile too wide. Fifteen was sort of old for that. But he’d been a late bloomer. Hadn’t been able to properly jerk off till the year before, either.

“He thinks I am Marc Marquez’s older brother,” Marc tells one of Vale’s assistants, perfectly calm, furiously even. She’s the one woman in the room. Her name is Laura, and she looks like any woman who has been working in racing all her life: straightened hair, weathered face, tight expression.

She’s the one who gets Uccio out of the room and two hours up the road by telling him someone needs to fill in for Valentino at the meeting with Ducati in Bologna tomorrow. Marc, cold, realizes he doesn’t know for sure what Vale has missed.

He doesn’t particularly like Laura, even though she got Uccio out. That doesn’t mean much, just that she knows that to handle Marc she must first handle Uccio.

And she has to handle Marc, because they ended up at Vale’s neuro guy, not Marc’s and he said to reduce confusion. Yes, like how you agree with dementia patients. Vale thinking Marc is Marc’s older brother — some fabled first son, some larger creature, who can have Vale when the younger Marc he remembers or has made up cannot yet — is not making the neuro guy happy.

They make Marc point out all of the things that are Marc’s. Marc pulls it out for them, but leaves it in piles on the floor. They can put it away.

*

“Marc,” says Valentino down the shitty phone line. Marc wants to sit down and scream. He is at the grocery store. He is in Madrid. Valentino is not better, because fifteen minutes ago one of his assistants was texting Marc to ask where Vale might have put the pill box they gave him for all the vitamin supplements, to help his brain recover.

Marc had texted back, Try the coffee cabinet, knowing with absolute clarity that Valentino would have thrown it out. Valentino hates pill boxes. Marc sometimes has to use one, and Valentino can’t even stand to have it on the counter. Marc keeps it under the bathroom sink, along with his migraine meds.

“Hi,” Marc says. He doesn’t say Valentino’s name because he is in the pasta and rice aisle of a Mercadona. His hand shakes on the phone.

“Hello, hello, ah. You’ve moved my black t-shirts.”

Marc’s number is no longer in Valentino’s phone, for Valentino’s own neurological health. Did Vale remember the number? How? Did he get the contact from somewhere?

“Your black tshirts?” Marc repeats. They are, Marc realizes with a jolt, speaking Spanish. Marc can speak Spanish and usually Catalan to Valentino anytime, who understands perfectly, but Valentino never speaks in Spanish. Never. Except that he just did.

“Yes, my black tshirts, and my favorite sweats. Are they in the laundry? I need them today.”

The Spanish is throwing Marc off. Whole sections of Marc’s life exist in Italian. Work, for example. And, largely, Valentino.

He overthinks it, tangles. Says, “You don’t own black tshirts, do you?” in Italian. A woman walks around him and sighs and says, “Fucking tourists.”

Valentino, if he were here, if he really were on this phone line, would find this very funny.

“No, no, I’m certain. Did you send them to get washed? All, today?”

Valentino is wrenching them back to Spanish. He’s harder to read like this, but suddenly Marc hears the panic under his tone, the high tight paranoia. There are other people in Valentino’s house. He does not trust them. He has found a way to call Marc.

Marc drops his shopping basket on the floor. “I’ll come look,” he tells Valentino, still in Spanish, smooth now. “The cleaner must have moved stuff again.”

Valentino, plaintive, relieved: “Yes, yes come look. I’ll go complain at someone for you.”

“Good,” says Marc, with tightly controlled, bloody-mouthed fury. The tshirts aren’t even with Marc. He has another full closet at the house in Madrid. Why take them? “But ah, I’m out at a few appointments I can’t get out of, so it will be a few hours,” Marc says. The flight to Bologna is two hours and twenty minutes.

He pulls his phone away from his ear to start texting, and sees that he has a text from Valentino’s assistant. He swipes it away unread. No point when he already has Valentino on the line.

His phone says, “Are you still there?”

“Yes,” says Marc, already out of the grocery, on the hot street. A car is going to pull up for him very soon. “Yes, I can stay on the line.”

“Hm,” is all Valentino says, and a TV switches on. But when Valentino sighs into the phone, Marc can hear the relief. Marc wants to lay down on the hot sidewalk and not get up.

The car comes. Marc gets in. He cries perfectly silently in the backseat. Eventually, and with no obvious reason, Vale says, “Okay, I’m going to go now,” and Marc pulls his phone away from his ear, damp with sweat. The heat wavers on the cars taking the airport exit. The driver sighs.

Marc thumbs open the text from Valentino’s assistant, the one he ignored earlier. It reads, Found his pill box, thank you! It was in the cabinet under the master bath sink, with his migraine meds.

Marc smiles, sharp and awful. Above the car, a plane screams across the street through the smoggy air.

[wonlvures]

— A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE — PARK JONGSEONG

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, romance

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you and Jay celebrate christmas together!

𝐀.𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: sorry i haven’t been posting ! i’ve been very lazy 😞

It was Christmas Eve in Seoul, and the city was alive with holiday cheer. The streets shimmered with dazzling lights, and snowflakes gently fell from the sky, blanketing the sidewalks in soft white. The scent of roasted chestnuts and fresh pine mixed in the air, and everything seemed to glow under the light of the festive decorations. People bustled around, shopping for last-minute gifts and sipping hot drinks from street vendors.

Inside a cozy little cafe on a quiet corner of the city, Y/N sat by the window, a warm latte cradled between her hands. The holiday season always filled her with a sense of wonder, and tonight, something felt even more special. Perhaps it was the quiet beauty of the snow, or perhaps it was the anticipation of seeing someone very important to her—someone who had become much more than just a friend over the past few months.

Her phone buzzed on the table, breaking her out of her thoughts. She looked down to see a message from Jay, the charming and kind-hearted lead vocalist of ENHYPEN.

"I’m outside! Can you come out?"

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as she quickly stood up, her eyes lighting up. She’d been looking forward to this all week. Tonight was a chance to spend some quiet time with him—just the two of them, away from the chaos of the world. Grabbing her coat, she slipped into the cool winter air and stepped out of the cafe.

There, standing under a streetlamp dusted with snow, was Jay. He was dressed warmly in a thick, black jacket and a soft, checkered scarf, his hands tucked into his pockets. His breath formed small clouds in the chilly air, and as soon as he spotted her, his face broke into that signature grin that always made her heart race.

"Hey, you made it!" he said, taking a step toward her. "Sorry if I kept you waiting."

Y/N smiled, shaking her head. "No, I just got here. It’s so beautiful tonight, don’t you think?"

Jay looked around at the snow-covered streets, the festive lights strung across the buildings. He chuckled. "Yeah, it’s like a Christmas movie. I’m glad we’re spending it together."

There was a softness in his voice that made Y/N's heart flutter, but she quickly shook it off, attributing it to the magic of the season. "I’m really glad, too. So, what’s the plan?"

Jay grinned mischievously. "I was thinking we could walk around, look at the decorations, and maybe grab some hot cocoa or something. Just enjoy the night."

Y/N nodded enthusiastically. "That sounds perfect."

The two of them wandered through the streets, walking side by side as the city’s Christmas lights sparkled around them. Every now and then, Jay would playfully flick snow at Y/N, causing her to laugh and retaliate with a small snowball of her own. It felt like the world had faded away, leaving only the two of them in their own little bubble.

After a while, they found themselves in a nearby park, where the trees were decked out in thousands of twinkling lights. The peaceful quiet of the place, with the soft crunch of snow beneath their feet, made it feel like they had stepped into a winter wonderland. The only sound was the gentle rustle of the branches in the wind and the occasional giggle between them.

They stopped in front of a large Christmas tree in the center of the park, its lights glowing brightly. Jay took a deep breath, looking at the tree in silence before turning to face Y/N. His expression had softened, and his usual playful energy seemed to have mellowed.

"You know," Jay began, his voice quieter now, "I’ve been thinking about this moment for a while."

Y/N tilted her head curiously. "What do you mean?"

He took another deep breath, as if gathering his thoughts, then looked into her eyes with a seriousness that surprised her. "I just… I’ve been so busy with everything lately, with ENHYPEN and all the craziness that comes with it. But every time I see you, I feel like I can finally breathe. You make everything feel so much better. And I realized tonight that it’s not just about having fun or spending time together. It’s something more."

Y/N’s heart raced, her breath catching in her throat. She wasn’t sure where this conversation was headed, but the air between them felt thick with unspoken feelings. She looked down at their feet for a moment, trying to steady herself.

Jay reached out, gently lifting her chin so that their eyes met once more. "Y/N, I think... I think I’m falling for you."

The words hung in the air, and Y/N’s heart seemed to stop for a moment. Was she hearing this right? Her mind raced as she looked up at him, trying to make sense of what he had just said.

Jay looked at her with those warm, dark eyes, waiting for her response. "I’ve wanted to tell you for a while now, but I didn’t know how… or if you felt the same way."

Y/N felt a wave of emotions wash over her—surprise, joy, and a little nervousness. She’d always known there was something special between them, but to hear Jay say it out loud made everything feel real.

"I… I think I feel the same," she whispered, almost too quietly to hear. "I’ve always cared about you, Jay. More than I realized."

A soft smile spread across his face, and he gently pulled her into a warm hug, wrapping his arms around her as if he never wanted to let go. Y/N melted into the embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her chest. The world seemed to fade into the background, and for that moment, it was just the two of them, surrounded by the magic of Christmas.

When they pulled away, Jay’s face was flushed, but his smile was brighter than ever. "So, we’re each other’s Christmas miracle then?"

Y/N laughed softly, her heart full. "I think so."

Jay’s eyes softened as he stepped closer, his hand gently cupping her face. "I’m really glad we’re here, Y/N. This is… this is everything I’ve wanted."

Before she could respond, he leaned down, pressing his lips to her forehead in a tender kiss. The moment felt like a dream—a perfect, serene memory that she would cherish forever.

As they stood there, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, the snow continued to fall around them, adding to the magic of the night. The twinkling lights on the Christmas tree reflected in Jay’s eyes, and Y/N felt as though she had stepped into her own little holiday fairy tale. The love she’d always hoped for had found her, and it was here, under the snowy sky, with the person who made her heart feel like home.

As they walked back through the park, hand in hand, the city lights guiding their way, Y/N knew that this Christmas would be the start of something beautiful. Something lasting. And no matter what happened in the future, she would always remember this night—the night she and Jay found each other, wrapped in the warmth of the season and the magic of a Christmas miracle.

[nomoreusername]

A Perfect Pair

Pairing:Minho x female reader

Summary:Even though all he wants is you, Minho realizes how much trust rumors can hold.

“You two have so much in common.”

It was a phrase you heard far too often. It was one you rolled your eyes at every time too. You and Minho? Seriously?

His arms crossed over his chest, a flash of jealousy shining in them before just vanishing, being replaced with a deep sadness. Because he already knew what came next.

“It’s not like that,”You insisted, staring at the ground to hide your smile.

A/K was your perfect match. You both worked the same job, seemed to like most of the same things, had the same beliefs, the same humor, the same everything. You two were like puzzle pieces that were made to be.

Minho wanted to scream. He wanted to point out that it puzzle pieces are the same shape they have no chance of fitting. He wouldn't to tell everyone it wasn't fair.

He didn't. He sat there, staring down at his drink. Needing it, he chugged the rest of it down, a sour expression on his face.

“Oh come on. You’d be so cute together. Right, Minho?”

Minho was sure the universe wanted him dead. While he knew the reason was that he was closest, it seemed like taunting. Surely it was a cruel, cruel joke.

“Yeah. They’d go alright together,”He shrugged. Your face flushed as you met A/K’s. He was biting his lip to hold back his smile too, both your eyes gaining this glint that twisted his stomach in knots.

Thomas and Newt exchanged a worried glance before looking at Minho. His face was neutral, no sign of his heart breaking in his chest.

“You two will be together one day for sure. The perfect boyfriend and girlfriend.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m heading to bed,”You siged, rolling your eyes and standing up, brushing off your pants.

“Oh come on. It's early,”Fry complained.

“Yeah. And I already want away from you shanks,”You said simply, walking off.

Minho stood, calmly making his way to his hammock. He glared at the ground as though it spit on him. Something it was so hard not to do the more he heard those words.

Thomas and Newt also left without a word, their concern only growing. Jogging over, they caught up with him not too far away.

“Minho, wait a second,”Thomas called, placing a hand on his chest as he caught up. Minho resisted the urge to shout at them to leave them alone as he sharply asked what they needed, clearly just wanting to get to the point.

“It's just we've been thinking, and it doesn't have to make sense, right?”

“What are you talking about?”He asked, sure they were the ones speaking gibberish.

“Y/N smiles when someone teases her, but that doesn't mean it's true. People smile all the time when they're embarrassed,”Newt pointed out.

A hint of skeptical shown, his interest clearly peaked.

“They're not together. So what if it's that?”Thomas continued.

A trickle is disappoint when through him, along with fear.

“What if that doesn't mean anything?”He whispered.

“What if it means everything? What if you confess and she feels it too?”Newt pushed.

“You really think she could?”

“Only one way to find out. Right?”

Minho didn't say a word as he left the other direction this time. At each step he found a nervous grin crossing his lips as he thought about the possibilities. You could feel the same. You two could be something. You two could be great together.

You two could be the perfect match.

Almost running now, he found himself in front of your hut. Too eager at the thought of his dreams coming true, he didn't think as he swung the door open, ready to proclaim his love.

He was met with a sight that made him sick to his stomach. One that he would never recover from.

You were in A/K’s lap as he sat on your bed, both your lips pressed firmly together. His hands were around your waist, traveling under your shirt, as you kissed with an undeniable passion. You had your arms wrapped around his shoulders, keeping him close.

Of course you and A/K were cute together. Of course you fit so well.

You already are.

You both pulled apart, your faces flushing in embarrassment as he stood there, paling under the moonlight.

“Please don't tell anyone?”

“I’m-I’m sorry.”

His voice cracked as he shut the door. Refusing to let his tears spill, he did his best to swallow the lump in his throat as he wished to just disappear.

He’s so stupid. He’s such an idiot for ever thinking he had a chance.

He never wanted to see you again. The chances of breaking were too likely.

Yet he would see you and A/K tomorrow, whether he liked it or not.

[ryuzakemo128]

MDNI 18+ Omegaverse Part 3

cw: isolation, cold weather, injuries, lovely things, overprotective price. mature language. angst.

Omegaverse Parts: Part One + Part Two + Part Three

wc: 1311

Price noticed you were no longer on the base, all that working trying to find you all gone to waste because of General Shepard. His frustration grew each day you were gone. Each day you weren’t around the four. Did it matter that it was only a week? Fuck no.

What did the General hope would happen? Delay the inevitable? What kind of foolish man did they take Price for? When he found out you were sent down from a helicopter in the dead of night to Siberia? His blood began to boil. His temper began to rise higher levels.

The man was a monster, and you were his latest victim. The medical results came in. Not that you would ever get the chance to see them. To know what you are. Why people were so keen on taking you or killing you, or both. Not just a weapon, either.

“You can’t do that. You have no right to enforce that. It’s against protocol to send out an unknown operative.” Price argued. He tried making him see the error of his actions. He had to. Not many others were willing to stand up for you. He had to save you.

“Protocol can go to hell, Price. She’s special. The intel says so. We need her. And I will do whatever it takes to ensure she’s safe and on our side. Even if it means throwing her to the wolves and seeing if she comes back to us. That’s an order, Captain!” Shepard’s voice was cold, final. The conversation was over.

The medical evaluation you received years before your imposed, forced exile had always eluded you. Your results never even reached your own hands. They left you there in the middle of the forest with your Barrett M82, SIG Sauer P226, colt python, and a Bowie knife made from Damascus steel. 

Siberia wasn’t meant to be kind nor loving to you. It was supposed to have killed you long ago. They assumed you would be dead by now. Hoped to be rid of you by now. A detriment to what they wanted. Too much of an improbable, uncontrollable unknown. A freak.

The log cabin you made into your home was relatively small, easy to miss, and hard to find within the gusts often sweeping across the snowy landscape. The trees keeping the location of the log cabin a hushed secret. A stone fireplace and varying large cast iron pots and pans. 

Stolen from military vehicles you spotted along the road to a base in the area. Indirectly helping task force 141 from afar. Nikolai said, “Looks like some of their supplies were taken, no signs of a struggle, no signs of combat, and whoever it is. Knew exactly what to take.”

Captain Price remarked incredulously as he frowned deeply, “What do you mean by taken? Nikolai, they’re either stolen or they’re lost. It can’t be any more or any less simple than that. I don’t think ghosts exist to steal supplies from the back of enemy trucks. We would know otherwise.”

“Oh, but Captain, the world is a mysterious place, full of secrets and unexplained occurrences. Maybe, just maybe, there is something, or someone, out there we haven’t accounted for.” Nikolai cooed a little too cryptically for his own good. Possibly even too mysteriously for Soap’s liking. Like he knew more.

The snap of the bear trap's claws clamping onto your leg set out by Nikolai, “See? The little mouse came out to play.” He set out a nice steak within enough reach to tempt you. Purposefully trying to make you do something stupid enough to try stealing it from him.

Price managed to take a closer look at you, Nikolai’s mouse, who bit Price for trying to touch you without consent. Feeling your wolf like teeth into his hand. Digging into his flesh, not hard enough to break bones. But hard enough to leave behind a deep enough bruise.

Your jaw locked in, making it impossible for him to remove his hand. With every movement of his met with a low growl ripping through your throat. Refusing to let go. Price didn’t know what to think. But Nikolai seemed to have his thumbs up, soap and are distressed. Where’s Ghost?

Who knew ghost would be the one to find your log cabin first? There he was. Standing outside your log cabin, staring at the crate you were parachuted down from the military helicopter. Smelling your intense sweet smell of your previous heat. The scent still remaining on the fur blankets.

The place you still go into when your heat comes around again. Tally marks along the walls marking how many times your ‘heat’ came around. The thick, soft fur blankets soaking in the hot water in the giant metal tub in the shed. Which also served as your bath tub. 

Learning your scent could attract far more dangerous predators than you. You bathed once a day when you weren’t in heat. Twice a day during the period of your heat. Once in the morning, and once in the evening. As you found it to be rather productive for your benefit.

Price sniffed around the crate you used to live in before shifting to your cabin permanently. The scent of yours is stronger than any of theirs. Their combined scent could match it. But singularly? No. They’d be drowned inside your scent with enough ease. Like a Megalodon swallowing someone whole.

“I can’t believe we missed this. This is a fucking goldmine.” He whispered to himself. “Nikolai! Soap! We’re not the only ones who know she’s here. She’s been living here, right under our nose!” He waved his comrades over, getting their attention and to come closer to what he found. 

Their footsteps grew louder as they approached. Soap’s eyes widened as he saw the state of your living conditions. The way you’ve adapted. The way you’ve survived. It’s a miracle, really. “How long have you been out here?” He asked, his voice filled with a mix of amazement and horror.

You were patching your leg up and bathing in hot water, hoping to sterilise and clean the wound. It was the sight of your naked body that made them rather peculiar. You were a miracle wrapped inside the cold, tendency to bite people’s hands if they touched you without consent.

Your clothes discarded into the corner of your cabin. Soaking in cold water to get the blood from your clothes. The atmosphere of your log cabin, warmer than what you felt on the inside. After the stitches, your leg is wrapped in clean cloth. You were about to get dressed.

The door slammed open like the gusts of wind came through like a shout rather than a soft, sultry whisper. The four of them must have found you quicker than you suspected. Another 12 months living, surviving, on your own. 

The first to enter your cabin was someone you didn’t expect to see again. Considering the two of you yelled at each other like you wanted to rip each other’s throat out. “What the fuck do you want?” You spat, your teeth still clenched from the pain of your wound.

“To bring you back. You’re in no state to be alone, you’re in no state to be left to pick up leftovers to live off again. I don’t want to hear your protests because frankly, I don’t care. You’re coming with us.” Price's voice was firm, but there was a hint of concern in his eyes as he stepped into the cabin, the warmth of the fireplace hitting him like a welcoming embrace.

You stared at him. Shocked. In total state of shock. Price heard the meek, “I can go back now?” Soap helped you get dressed and patched up. Ghost packed up your things, because he knew it was valuable

[forbebeandjam]

ONE SIDED | Bada Lee x Fem Reader | angst

Summary: you didn’t think falling for Bada would be so hard. (You as Lusher)

Word Count: 761

Warnings: pretty sad and angsty. Might be a bit cringe

A/N: might make a part 2 with a less angst feel but idk yet. It will have to be in wip cuz the holidays are driving me insane…

“I hate him…”

-

One-sided love.

That's what you felt. Of course, you never meant to fall for your dance teacher. You weren't even the kind of person that falls in love easily but there you were.

In the middle of the dance studio watching Bada filming a dance video in the far corner. You took a deep breath and shook your thoughts. You group meme we were soon to be arriving and you needed to focus for your comeback.

Bada was in charge of the full choreography since your group was advanced in the dance aspect so you got to see her every day.

And day after day you would greet her with a bright smile. You would give her a towel and water bottle to dry her sweat. It was evident to everyone that you were head over heels for the tall dancer. She would always smile sweetly and gravitate towards you when tired or sad.

She would place her chin on your shoulder or rest her head on your lap as you braided her hair. She would dry your sweat softly.

You could tell you had become some sort of comfort to the tall girl, and she never tried to hide it. You were the first one she would greet and the first one she would go to at the end of every practice.

And you... You loved it.

Her sweet eyes were enchanting. The way they would glow with passion when dancing melted all of you. Her big yet soft hands on your waist, when correcting your posture, feel like heaven on earth. The way she would lick her lips in the middle of her analyzing the dance would drive you insane.

It was killing you slowly and eating you up. Your emotions were too strong to hide sometimes and you were scared. But then she would simply bust your bubble.

"Thank you, cutie," she would say. Or "You are such an amazing friend," you could see she only looked at you as a dumb kid who was her student and friend. Nothing else.

"Ouch... maybe you should confess. It might help get rid of the feeling, you know? I heard she is single but has many, many people after her, so act quickly. Who knows? You might actually pull at her heartstrings with a heart like yours,” one of your members said.

That's all it took for you to build the courage to confess to Bada. So you got to work. You bought her favorite jelly snacks, wrote her a letter, and practiced your words.

The day finally arrived. You wore your best dance practice outfit and styled your hair. You gathered your bag and quietly headed out of the dorm at five in the morning since that was the time Bada would arrive at the studio to practice.

You spotted her in the room warming up and smiled. Your heart was beating faster every second, and your heart was doing flips. As soon as you entered the room, you spotted another figure walking toward her.

In a matter of seconds, your heart was shattered. You knew you could never form any kind of romantic relationship so why did it hurt so much to see his lips on hers?

You felt pain in your chest and gripped it tightly dropping the candy that was in your hand with a loud gasp.

This caused Bada to turn to you with wide eyes and you...

Well, you ran away. There wasn't much you could do. You couldn't even breathe properly and you hated yourself for falling in love with someone who was so out of reach from you.

Bada tried to run after you but was held back by the other figure. She bent down to pick up whatever you had dropped and saw the note. She opened it and inside she was greeted with your handwriting.

"I will always want what's best for you"

Tears formed in her eyes and she sighed. She knew she couldn't do anything to make you feel better except give you some space. She knew how you felt a while back and she knew your heart was broken so she didn't want to make things worse because she did love you.

Maybe not in the way she would like to but she loved you.

And days passed. You and Bada went back to the friendship you had before, talking, laughing, hanging out.

However, behind your bright smile, you hid great pain knowing Bada belonged to someone else. Someone you hated for taking away your love...

Thank you for reading🩵

[rayhalloffame]

The people have spoken! Part two of this. I’m also going to make this a series so there will be another part, my brain is thinking about this version of Art so much, it’s so serious >:/

…

Despite his confidence and the fact that he really did cover your tab all night, you only grant him a quick peck when he walks you to your uber. You take his phone and put your number in. Right then and there you set your contact picture to a flirty photo of yourself taken at a high angle that leaves just enough to the imagination. You tell him you’ll reply in the morning if you really like him. Art texts you to tell him when you’ve made it home safe. He’s unsurprised when you don’t answer.

He is surprised when he wakes up at nearly 8am to his phone buzzing. He silences it but a minute later it goes off again so he picks it up without looking. “What?” he groans into the receiver. His head is turned on his pillow so that he can rest the phone against his cheek.

“You promise you’re not a murderer?” comes a small, crackled voice from the other line.

Art pauses, picks up the phone to be greeted with your pretty face. It snaps him right out of his slumber. “G’morning, birthday girl,” he murmurs. He hears your deep breathing through the phone but you don’t respond. “I promise I’m not a murderer.”

“I need a bagel and a cherry coke,” you whine. You say nothing else. Art takes the hint.

“What kind of bagel, sweetheart?” He’s already swinging his legs over the side of his bed, waiting for your reply.

“Bacon, egg, and cheese. And it has to be a fountain soda, with crushed ice to the top.” Your voice sounds so pitiful. Art tells you to text your address and he’ll bring you whatever you want. You send it as soon as you hang up the phone.

When he makes it to the door of your apartment he doesn’t know what to do. Art is simply mystified by you, doesn’t understand how a pretty little thing has him by the throat when she’s the hardest chase he’s had since going pro. He knocks on your door anyway.

He can hear your groan through the wood, and is chuckling by the time you swing the door open. You don’t even look at him, really, just shield your eyes from the outside light and retreat back into your dark apartment. Art follows you in and locks the door behind him. He toes his shoes off before entering further.

You’ve already dropped yourself on your couch by the time he’s passed the foyer. There’s a garbage pail by the arm of the chair, a bottle of Advil and a water on the coffee table. “Rough night?” Art jokes.

You don’t even have the energy to glare at him, just make grabby hands for your treats. He meets you at the couch, putting the bag and drink on the coffee table. Unable to help himself, he crouches at your head and brushes sticky hair back from your face. He expects you to stop him but you nuzzle into his palm when it passes over your cheek. “You’re not as scary as you pretend to be, are you?” He sounds curious, like he’s perplexed by you but wants to figure you out.

You peek an eye open at him and shake your head. “Only sometimes. Like when men are cocky. Have to knock them down a peg.” Art laughs through his nose, tells you he’s learned his lesson. He opens the bag with your bagel and hand feeds you a bite. You moan. Art puts the bagel down and stands. He’s going to be tenting his pants if you make more of those noises with his hands so close to your mouth.

You sit up enough to take a sip of your soda, a sigh of relief leaving your throat. “How much do I owe you? From last night and today?” You look up at Art from where you’re half-laying, reaching absently for your phone to Zelle him. Somehow, even with your skin flushed and your mascara streaked, he still wants to eat you up.

Art clears his throat. “Nothing,” he says, “I’m happy to treat you for your birthday.” You sit up fully and shake your head at him. You tell him you got a little too cocky yourself last night, that you feel bad and you owe him. Art smiles at you, a genuine one. “Go on a date with me,” he says.

“Wait. What?” Confusion is a written all over your face. Art rocks back on his heels, suddenly bashful, but repeats his request. “When?” you ask. You’ve abandoned your phone to sip more of your carbonated beverage.

“Tonight,” Art says. “I have training this afternoon, but I should be done by 7, the latest.”

You hum in acknowledgement, picking apart your bagel and popping small pieces into your mouth. “You’re not worried someone might see us? Fans, paparazzi?” You pick up your cup and shake around the ice inside. “You know, your name is carried on the wind. There’s not much that’s private about you.”

“Yeah?” Art asks.

“Mhmm,” you hum, accompanied by slow nods of your head.

Art can’t stop looking at your lips. “I don’t know how true that is,” he continues, “let me take you out. There’s a lot to know about me. My life isn’t as public as you imagine.”

You tilt your head, considering. Art’s eyes follow the stretch of your neck into your large white tee, which is almost see through. He returns his gaze to yours and finds you watching him. You flash him a knowing smile, then nod your head. “Sure,” you say, “let’s go on a date.”

[vidals-harkness]

i’ll come back to you (lilia calderu)

summary: lilia meets agatha, and has to convinve you--her inexhaustible 'stray' baby witch--to allow her, before she embarks on a journey to the witch's road.

fic type: angst/fluff

pairings: lilia calderu x fem!child!reader (family)

warnings: reader invading agatha's personal space, some crying, so much soft lilia you might just weep <3

word count: 1.4k

Afternoons in the sleepy town of Westview were very often uneventful.

A gentle breeze carded through the curtains, ruffling the papers on the table, eviction notice included. The birds twittered faintly outside, along the cars which rolled past with a steady, quiet rumble. The windchimes jingled softly, caught in the wind's dance, the suncatchers on the windows casting tiny rainbows on the hardwood floors.

The kettle rattled as you kept an eye on it like Lilia had asked. Beside it, a pot stood full of dinner--contents of it long gone cold.

Through the quaint shop in the front, you heard a jingle. You reached up and switched off the kettle, following Lilia as she took her place through the beaded curtain.

The front room, or, the shop, was lit with candles, Lilia's magic keeping them from overheating the place. The scent of essential oils and incense was strong, but comforting. You took your place beside the nearby shelves, ready to help Lilia.

"Welcome to the curious," she said mystically as two people--a boy and a woman who had a strange energy around her. You didn't like it. Or rather it took you longer than usual to get used to it.

"Good day, madam," said the woman in a thick Southern accent. "Oh, thank you so much for seein' us,"

"You look strange," you admitted, coming up to her and touching her shawl.

"Y/n, sweet little, if you could please step away," Lilia smiled, noting the look of scorn and disgust on Agatha's face as she yanked the shawl out of your grasp. Trying to quell the situation, she added, "Don't mind my apprentice, she is young, a bit too curious sometimes,"

"That'll get her in a few spats," Agatha muttered, hissing at you like a cat, making you frown.

"Y/n, can you go out back, find me my special deck of tarot cards?” Lilia smiled, looking at you pointedly.

You nodded immediately, rushing out back to find the special deck--the one which felt like her, the one which made you feel safe.

"Miss L--huh?" You skipped back to the reading room, to find her nowhere to be seen.

You heard pained yelling from the kitchen and saw her--golden aura around her head like a halo, making you concerned. You hurried over, tugging at her sleeve for her attention.

"Miss Lilia," you whispered, poking her slightly. "It's just your mind, it's making up silly stuff,"

She took a deep breath, smiling down at you. "You're such a darling, sweet little," she chuckled.

"So you’re a bit of a kook. Every witch has their process," Agatha butted in. "You showed some real skill out there,"

"I didn’t read your fortune. I read your reputation," Lilia said, turning to her, placing a hand on your chest to push you behind her protectively. "Witches like you are the reason people think we poison apples, and steal children, and eat babies,"

"You eat babies, Miss Lilia?" You gasped, looking up at her, tiny brows furrowed with worry.

Her nose scrunched a bit as she smiled and shook her head. "No, sweet little, I don't,"

"I do," said Agatha. "Babies are delicious,"

"Ugh," Lilia groaned, going over to the stove to start with dinner.

You went over to Agatha where she sat on the sofa, poking at her inquisitively. "I've never met a baby-eating witch before..."

The chaos witch made a face at you. Despite her ease around children, you made her regret ever having an affinity towards them. "No, shoo, get away," she said, flicking your nose.

"Ow!" You exclaimed, pushing her shoulder.

"Y/n," Lilia warned without turning around. "What did I say about space?"

Agatha made that hissing noise at you again, which you countered with a blown raspberry before you stood next to Lilia again.

"How old are you? 410? 415?" Agatha asked, giving the older witch a once-over.

She turned sharply, offended. "How dare you?"

"Oh, I apologize," she chuckled in return. "You don’t look a day under 450,"

"Years old?" Teen asked, baffled.

"Mhm, Miss Lilia is very old," you nodded at him, which earned you a sharp but gentle smack upside the head.

"You get, what, maybe two suckers a day in here, and 20 bucks later, you’re sitting on a bed that’s also your wall," Agatha pointed out, her hand gesturing at the bed you and LIlia shared. Which, to be honest, was indeed a bed that was also a wall.

Agatha stood up, trying her hardest to convince her. "Don’t you miss the glory days?"

"When I was chased out of every village I passed through for accurately predicting tragedy?" Lilia asked, heading towards the kitchen. "No, I do not. Beat it, Harkness,"

"Yeah, beat it, Harkness," you said, crossing your arms to give Agatha a once-over.

"Tell your familiar to watch it," Agatha snapped.

"Absolutely not, you heard her," Lilia scoffed. "Beat it,"

"I’m gonna walk The Road," she finally admitted.

"The Road is a death wish,"

"I survived,"

"Yeah? Where’s your power now?"

A beat passed. She'd hit a nerve.

"Time to restock," she countered finally. "I need a Divination Witch,"

"Are you honestly asking me to coven up with the single most infamous witch on this continent?" Lilia laughed.

"Oh, please. Name a badder bitch in South America, or Europe," Teen said, crossing his arms.

Lilia gave him a look, scrutinising him. "Who is this child?"

Before he could reply, Agatha butted in. "My pet. This is my pet. Say hi, pet,"

Looking like he'd have rather swallowed nails, he sighed, "Hi,"

"Hi, pet!" You smiled, giving him a high-five.

"Y/n, sweet little, why don't you go play outside?" Lilia asked, patting your head gently, her gaze fixated on Agatha's.

You huffed, but nevertheless obeyed, grabbing a stick to play with as you went outside of the shop to play in the empty street outside.

Eventually, Agatha left with a disgruntled hiss at you, which you again countered with a raspberry, stomping back inside.

The candles were dimmed, and there came the sounds of Lilia singing soft Sicilian love songs in the kitchen. The pot bubbled, the refrigerator hummed, the lights buzzed and flickered.

"Sweet little, would you be a dear and set the table for me, please?" Lilia asked with a soft smile, turning to you, her song ceasing momentarily.

You nodded, grabbing the plate for yourself and placing it on the table. You sensed a variation in her energy, and asked, "Miss Lilia, why was Miss Harkness asking about the Witch's Road?"

Lilia paused, plating up the pasta she'd made. Her expression was thoughtful as she sat, handing you a fork.

"Well...Miss Agatha needs me for a sort of...plan that she has," she explained as you started to eat.

"Why does she need you?" You asked, swinging your legs a little as you ate happily.

Lilia's heart swelled--such an adorable thing you were, and she'd have to leave it behind. She didn't want to, but she had to.

"The process to begin the plan involves me, sweet little," she said, standing up as you did, too, plate in hand.

"You're super important then," you said, yawning a little. Afternoon nap time.

"Mhm," she hummed, scooping you up in her arms, grinning aas you squealed. "Super important,"

"I think that's so cool, Miss Lilia," you giggled softly.

"Problem is, sweet little, I'll be gone for some time," she whispered, laying down with you in bed, you flat on your b ack while she lay on her side, head propped up on her fist.

Your heart stopped. "G-Gone?" You whimpered, hand coming up to grip her shawl. "I don't want you gone,"

Her heart broke. "I know my little dove," she said, stroking your hair soothingly. "But I'll be back before you know it, I promise."

"No, no, no," you shook your head, tears streaming down your soft cheeks. "You're not gonna go!"

Lilia was quick to pull you close, your head on her chest as she soothed you by rubbing your back in gentle circles. "I have to go, sweet little, but don't fret, I'll come back..."

"But--but--" you began to protest, but her voice was firm.

"I will return to you," she said. "Have I ever broken my promise?"

You sniffled and shook your head. "N-No, Miss Lilia,"

"Have I ever lied?" She asked, making you face her, one hand wiping your tears.

You shook your head again. "N-No, Miss Lilia..."

"Precisely," she chuckled, kissing your forehead. "I'll come back to you, I promise,"

You nodded, eyes drooping as she rocked you to sleep, your worries washing away slowly as the tide of drowsiness dragged them away. One thought was what kept you content, one simple thought.

She'll come back to you.

hi my bao buns! jace here! i'm so sorry i've been mia for so long, but i'm back now! i would like to thank my anon bao buns as well as @lilia-caldareyou and @evildin0saur for motivating me to write again <3 thank you all!

love, jace