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kiss-me-muchoo · 8 days ago

Text

𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 || 𝐇𝐚𝐧 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠-𝐖𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one: here // part two: kiss away

summary_ amidst studying in Korea and having an ordinary life, you fall in love with a wealthy man, but turns out he had too many secrets, for example, being married.

warnings_ age gap (not specified but reader is in uni), implied sex, cheating, fluff, angst, jeong-won is still tormented but it’s truly happy with reader, reader wants to be a teacher and is implied to be American, NO PROOFREAD YET

notes_ pls listen to angel of satisfaction is such a banger 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋♬⋆. Using the salesman tag bc we need to avoid the flop okay?

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 gong yoo

✰ Index (+ fics here)

୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ———୨ৎ───୨ৎ

In his arms, you felt safe.

With his kisses, you felt cherished.

The man who urgently smashed his lips with yours in the middle of the dance floor while music blasted from the speakers was the love of your life.

He couldn’t resist the temptation. Couldn’t miss the chance and needed to let you know he always loved you. That everything was true.

“Please, believe me…” he pleaded.

“Fuck you, Jeong-Won”

Frivolously, you leave the taste of poison on his lips. His hand tried to grab yours, but you slipped, leaving him.

Like you had already done before.

But it didn’t make it easier, because tears started falling down the first step out of the club.

And in the middle of the cold night, you slip into your coat and start a quiet walk towards home.

You wished you knew he was mourning a life he had before you.

…

[eight months ago]

Leaving your comfort zone was something you hated. But as soon as you grasped the change, you easily adapted to it.

For a couple of months, surviving all alone in South Korea seemed like it would never cease to feel like a struggle. But you were patient enough to make friends, move out of the dorms of university, and find a home in the wealthy godmother of yours who let you stay at an apartment she had.

Her kindness was so big that she even arranged a full remodeling project that lasted months.

And it was one of those weekends when you finished early your assignments and essays that a plan popped out. Working as a counselor assistant did little to support you financially but the aid from your home government was a good complement. Hence why you couldn’t refuse a night out with your friends; Jade, Ruby, and Seoun-mi.

“Can you pass me the highlighter?” Asks your blonde friend Ruby. It was Seoun-mi who passed her the shiny compact while rolling her eyes. “You already used it, Ruby”

“It’s not enough” You start laughing and Jade joins you.

“Don’t you girls think my dress is a little too much?” You ask pointing at the bright orange dress with scattered sequins hanging from your door. “Do you want to meet guys?”

“God no” you reply to Jade, shaking your head.

“Then wear black tights and some fitted boots” Ruby suggests, which comforts you enough to agree.

“The club we’re going to is not popular with foreigners or students. Boys won’t hit on us” Seoun-mi states, putting on her kneels.

“Good” you affirm. “I’m not in the mood for men”

…

Even with the lights out and neon flashes flying all over the place, your orange dress was making a statement. But in the company of your friends, you weren’t paying attention. A Nelly Furtado song from the 2000s was playing when Ruby complained she wanted some vodka. It was you who offered to ask for it.

And it was then when Han Jeong-Won was coming out of the restroom after smoking a cigarette. He had been deep into shit in that same place months ago, barely conscious and fighting a man. But now, he was at the club, along with the mere purpose of disconnecting from his life for a little while.

The crowd only swayed along to the music, Jeong-Won seated at the bar, but he couldn’t help but notice you were the only person actually dancing, it made him stare longer. Until he caught himself eyeing you up and down.

Definitely foreigner; lousy, careless but refined.

It was such a big coincidence that you walked towards him when the song was over. He heard you laughing at something your friends said in the distance. Fluid English coming out of your mouth.

“Hi! Any vodka or tequila?” You don’t look at the man beside you, his elbow almost touching your ribs. “Just vodka. Bottle or ?….”

“The bottle is fine” you confidently say, the bartender nods and disappears to get your wish.

“Fun Saturday?” The man beside you asked. You turned to eye him, surprised to hear his English was very good. And of course, his attractiveness didn’t pass unnoticed by you.

“I guess so…” you say nodding. “Hey, your English is really good”

“It was a requirement in university” his voice was deep, and even in the middle of the chaos of the club, you could hear him perfectly well. “I wasn’t very good at the beginning”

“Oh, so are you done with your career?” He nodded, drinking from his glass, which seemed to be something like a mojito. “Music engineer”

“You produce? Show me something you’ve done, I love music. There is no day without me playing music…” he chuckles and you realize you were flirting, almost making you freeze. “I do produce actually. But what about you?”

“I’m trying to get into the educational department. I really like to write. So University counselor or professor will be fine…” he nods, hiding his surprise and awe.

“That’s really nice…” his fingers twirl around the straw of his drink, a little smirk in the corner of his lips. “Maybe you can show me your writings one day…”

Your smile grows playful, accepting the fact that he is also flirting with you.

“Isn’t it that I’m a little too young for you?”

“We’re just talking”

“You’re right, my bad…” both of you laugh.

The bartender ruined the moment, he handed you the bottle and you handed back a bill. You offer the mystery man a last glance before turning to leave.

“Hey!” You turn to see him. “I didn’t get your name or anything…”

“If it’s meant to be, we’ll meet again!” you say smiling before disappearing into the crowd of people dancing.

Jeong-won remained there seated, smiling as he finished his drink. And at that moment he realized how much he had smiled in the short span of less than ten minutes.

…

The sound of your stomach growling made your steps hurry up, almost jogging down the street. You arrived at a burger shop, eager to order.

“Just no cheese and no onion please” the girl nods, handing you your receipt and your cup. “Thanks”

As your order awaits, you pick diet cherry vanilla coke from the soda fountain. You hear your number and after grabbing your bag, you are ready to eat outside because the weather is nice. Your receipt falls and when you’re about to pick it up, a big hand does it for you.

It’s him.

“So it was meant to be?….” He asks as soon as he notices it’s you as well. You smile briefly, before feeling your cheeks are heating up. “Apparently…”

He was wearing a sweatshirt and some jacket, jeans, and random sneakers. He was very handsome. With the help of the daylight, you can see he’s older than you. But he’s still gorgeous.

“Where are your friends?” You roll your eyes playfully. “They have classes today”

“And you don’t?” He had also picked up his order and looked tired. “No, I always avoid classes on Fridays or the weekends”

“Ah, smart girl” he sounds so perfect, too nice and calm.

“So, any plans? Or you wanted to eat alone?”

“Well, I planned to eat outside and then take the sub to a mall. I need some new clothes…” Still holding his bag or food, he nodded.

“I’ll propose you something…”

“Uh huh?” He nods again, chuckling.

“You eat with me inside and I take you to the mall” Finally your cheeks heat up completely and he notices.

“Dude, I don’t even know your name” both of you start laughing.

“Han Jeong-Won”

“I’m y/n”

Both of you smile and then you offer your hand for him to shake. Which he considers so occidental, but agrees to do so.

And once again, he noticed how much he was smiling and forgetting about some details of his life.

…

An hour and a half later, you know more about his job, but mostly he asked about you, which made you feel like he wasn’t trying to show off. Or he could be hiding something but he was very chill and kind. After finishing your food, both of you walk outside.

“Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me,” you say chuckling, abruptly stopping at the parking lot.

Jeong-won owned a grey Hennessey Venom F5 and was proudly standing beside the driver’s door.

“This is too much for me” he starts laughing.

“Stop trying to sound humble”

“But I am!” You reply also laughing. “I like some expensive stuff but mostly I find this very ostentatious”

“But it’s pretty, isn’t it?” his smirk makes you roll your eyes and look away, smiling.

“Oh, sure it is…” he walks over and opens the passenger seat for you, gentlemanly inviting you to sit.

“Only pretty girls get to sit here”

“That’s so tacky” Both of you start laughing again. But you finally take a seat and he closes the door.

All the way to the mall he showed you some of the music he produced. Jeong-Won was a serious man, but in the 24 hours you had met him, he was always able to offer you a smile or laugh. His phone continuously rang and you urged him to answer but he said it wasn’t important.

If only you had been able to see the screen…

…

Jeong-won followed you through the candle store, pretending to be attracted to some of the bright bottles with wax and odors but the truth was that he only wanted to listen to you.

“And I don’t like fish. Ahi tuna is fine but it’s mostly raw so…”

“You prefer meat?”

“If it was on me, I would gladly eat purely tofu. But I really like burgers and steaks” you admit giggling.

Your heart continuously beating made you accept you really liked the man beside you. He had made you feel so comfortable and welcome since you met him.

“Oh, I can cook you a steak with vegetables, it’s one of the few dishes I enjoy doing myself” Your cheeks blushed again at his statement. Was he inviting you to meet again?

“But you said you don’t eat at home” you object, deciding on a cardamom candle and going straight to pay.

“I can make exceptions” Once again you meet his smile and it makes you feel delusional. The intrusive thought of anticipating him as the one merging.

“And I will make tofu appetizers” It was on purpose your mocking tone. Just in case Jeong-won never meant to invite you on a date.

“Next Friday. My place. Casual dinner…” he offers, leaning on the counter as you pay your candle. “What do you say?”

“Alright,” his proud smile makes you roll your eyes at him before grabbing your bags and exiting the store.

You think it’s time to tell your friends about him.

…

“NO WAY! The hot dude we saw you talking to at the club?” Jade screams through the video call. You start laughing and nodding.

Everyone one of your friends is shocked.

“We met at the burger shop and then he took me to the mall and there he literally went shopping with me and at the end invited me to have dinner at his place next Friday” Everyone starts yelling and cheering, making it harder for you to believe that you pulled up a hot man like Han Jeong-won.

“Baby, we’re coming tomorrow and we won’t leave until you have an appointment made for your hair and a waxing,” Ruby tells you and it makes you burst laughing.

“Actually that would be nice. And please stay over, you can practically move in with me if you want”

“We can’t move in when you’re one step away from getting a boyfriend, unnie” says Seoun-mi, which makes everyone burst laughing again.

…

The house was ridiculously clean and big. Jeong-won kept his promise and cooked a steak with vegetables. Your tofu was also gone, he let you pick a glass of wine from the floor below and there he kissed you.

“Isn’t it that I’m a little too young for you?” You repeated what you said the night you met him at the club, Jeong-won chuckled, still holding your waist. “You are, but… I feel very comfortable when I’m with you”

You smile, feeling your heart flutter in love. He was so adorable and sweet, only a gentleman to you since you met him.

“I feel the same way about you” In the dark wine cellar of the house, you barely can see the features of Jeong-won, his hair looks even darker than it is and he had to slightly bend over to face you.

Which led to having a dinner full of teasing, leading to you kissing him in his lap upstairs with the TV on in the background.

“We can stop if you want…” he whispers in your mouth. But it’s too fucking late.

You can feel how hard he is, you can feel your panties are growing wet.

“It’s okay, I want you…” He throws his head back when you grind against him. And it’s oddly beautiful how you’d never considered a man so pretty like him.

“Keep moving like that…” he says barely able to talk properly. That makes you feel confident and sexy.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty, darling…” you moan on his lips, knowing it’s over once he takes out his cock and puts aside your panties.

“Jeong-won!” you moan his name, repeating it like a mantra over and over again.

You can’t believe how good things are going. So good that you are blinded enough to miss the red flags.

…

Four months together. He didn’t know how it happened. Six months ago he married Noh In-ji just to please his ex-wife. His cheating was not in the plans. You weren’t meant to appear in his life.

Jeong-won never considered age gaps romantic. His parents had one and it didn’t go well, let alone the other problems he had to witness as a kid. In fact, he thought you were pretty but he was only being friendly when you ended up by his side that night at the club.

But he started to feel very comfortable as you talked to him. He didn’t feel the need to oppress his feelings as usual. He allowed himself to smile, laugh, and be talkative.

Jeong-won felt alive.

Whenever you were around he was able to forget about his ex-wife, the baby, his pain, and dealing with his difficult new wife.

Just when he was so close to falling for In-ji.

Your voice singing caught him in his inner thoughts and briefly eyed you taking pictures of the landscape as he drove through the empty highway.

Jeong-won returned his attention to the highly and smiled.

“You should autotune my voice, honey. I know I am no singer” you admit smirking at him before looking away.

“Actually you sound fine…” The small he offers you is sweet and makes you want to lean and kiss him deeply. But he’s driving you to a lake he loved to go to in his free time to fish and just pass the time.

“Bullshit. But I’ll take the compliment” he chuckles, showing you his right dimple from the view of his profile. “Whatever. Tell me about the lake”

“I used to go there a lot since I was a teenager. Whenever things got rough at home, I went there to… forget about it” his uncomfortable tone made you seize your smile. He told you about his parents and his harsh infancy. You couldn’t blame him.

“It’s different now. I go there with my boss, who’s also my friend. And now I’m taking you there… only good times now. I promise”

He also took In-ji to the lake once. Jeong-won desperately pleaded for the right moment to tell you the truth. He had two months left of marriage. His ex-wife still haunted him a little but he was comfortable after pushing her away. There was a lunatic after In-ji but since she didn’t want him to be nosy about it, he found more than comfort in you.

“We’re here!” You squeal excitedly, making him smile at the sight.

Once he parks the car, you get out to appreciate the view. Jeong-won has been there so many times that the only beauty he sees is you.

In sneakers, jeans, sweater, coat, and camera in hand. You look so ordinary, yet so perfect to his eyes. You were the woman he really wanted to call his partner.

That didn’t mean Jeong-won didn’t feel so terrible for lying to you. For also lying to In-ji and getting away with it.

“JEONG-WON! HURRY UP, HONEY!” You yell, noticing he got lost in his head. You wonder what was he thinking. But you soon forget as he gives you one of his cutest smiles.

He starts literally jogging towards you, making you laugh, urging you to run so he can catch you.

The adrenaline flows when he starts running behind you. All you can feel is peace and joy. The man that catches you in his arms is your boyfriend.

“Got you, sweetheart,” he says in your ear, making you blush as he spins you to lean and kiss you.

His lips were soft despite his rough appearance. Jeong-won in general was so sweet, touch deprived and you were the one who broke those barriers.

He’s all you never knew you wanted and someone you weren’t waiting for…

“I love you” you admit confidently. He smirks, tilting his head.

“Me too” he admits to his own surprise.

He knows there’s no way back.

…

Periwinkle was one of your least favorite colors. But you loved how a dress of that color fitted you with grey tights and heels, a grey coat covering you as well as you entered the fancy restaurant. Jeong-won insisted that you two had to celebrate your achievement of passing every midterm of the semester.

“I’ll get the squash blossom soup” you order after your boyfriend and once the waitress leaves, it’s just you and him.

“You always look pretty, but I really think you look lovely tonight, darling…” Your face burns and you shyly smile, hiding your face behind your glass of wine.

“Ah ah, don’t hide from me! I’m being serious” he says chuckling, trying to move the glass away. “It doesn’t match the necklace, but it’s okay”

“I don’t care. I love the necklace and I’ll wear it every single day. Even if it doesn’t match…”

He gifted you a Tiffany gold necklace with a heart pendant. You were embarrassed but enamored by it. He shushed your attempts to politely reject the gift by burying his face between your legs. It left you with no choice but to place the necklace around your neck and admire it in a nearby mirror as you rode him at your apartment.

Luckily Seoun-mi made you an appointment at a public hospital to get your birth control.

When you least expect it, you already finishing your squash blossom soup. Jeong-won is nearly done with his plate and both of you are laughing because he almost spilled the wine.

The solid proof of Jeong-won feeling head over heels for you is evident when all he can focus on is your face.

Although there are no wrinkles in your face yet, some appear around your eyes as you keep laughing. He smiles, ignoring all of his surroundings, miserably ignoring the approaching figure coming to the table.

Everything is perfect until you spot a beige coat, your laughs suddenly stopping as you look up to encounter a woman.

Fear starts creeping up as you notice how Jeong-won also stops smiling, only to lock his eyes with the woman before she turns her head to scan you.

She’s young, maybe a little older than you, like your boyfriend. But she’s very pretty and elegant. But her cold demeanor makes you uncomfortable, the feeling doesn’t abandon you as she looks away from you.

“You didn’t tell me you were having dinner out, sweetheart” she speaks to him in Korean, offering a cold and feigned smile.

You are no fool, quickly thinking the worst. Hoping it’s a mistake.

“In-ji…” he reveals the woman’s name and sounds almost like he’s begging. But you don’t know what.

“I’m sorry, What is happening?” you dare to ask, making both of them turn to look at you.

“I’m Han Jeong-Won’s wife”

Color leaves your face, your stomach awkwardly churns and your hands start to shake, getting on your nerves.

How did Jeong-won hide it so well?

Why? Why? Why? Why?

“Earlier, your phone call accidentally linked to the car I borrowed” the woman reveals, but nobody says anything.

But you know it’s time to go…

Embarrassment floods you, making you a mess of yourself. Your cheeks burn so bad that your face looks red as a beet, you can feel your heart racing and your hands keep shaking as much as you try to calm yourself.

You stand up from the table, hurrying to grab your coat and purse.

“Please, y/n…” you hear Jeong-won calling you, but you don’t even look at him.

“The least you can do is pay for my dinner and beg on your knees for forgiveness to your wife…” you spit out, unable to look at any of them or the nosy people having dinner in the place.

The unwanted attention makes you sick. Only worsening the moment.

The couple stares at you, noticing that even when you were walking away, it was obvious that you started crying and you tried to wipe the tears away.

In-ji almost felt bad for you. Despite looking young and careless, you seemed mature enough. She expected to argue, but she ended up surprised to see you only left and eyed her with evident apologies.

“I deserve an explanation,” she says once you’re finally out of their sight.

“Yeah, you do…” Jeong-won admits, sighing after handing his card to pay the check.

He would pay for your dinner but he would not beg for forgiveness to his wife.

“Why did you do this?” In-ji asks as both leave the restaurant.

She’s certainly jealous but hides it so well. And more than that, she is curious.

“When I’m with her, I don’t feel tormented. I can be myself with no restrains…” he says, looking tired, beat down by the situation, but he briefly smiled at the tons of memories he had made with you.

“Did you ever feel that way with me?” Suddenly In-ji felt nervous, but she had to know.

“I did” After some silence, Jeong-won adds “I was so close to falling for you, but you proved to me we could never trust each other completely”

“That’s not true”

“She picked you well and was right. I will never match…”

That breaks her heart. Knowing damn well what he meant.

Her eyes get teary but feels confident to throw the next question.

“Do you love her, Jeong-won?”

“I love her”

She nods, watching him walk away towards his car.

The ex-wife, the wife, and the girlfriend…

Get a fucking grip, man. Get your shit together, Jeong-won thought.

A disastrous marriage, a fake one, and a healthy relationship.

From three totally different relationships, only one had made him feel safe and comfortable.

It was yours and his name that he wanted to see and hear together.

He was the perfect boyfriend but a shit of a person. And of course, you didn’t deserve that.

You deserved his beggars. And so you would get them.

୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ———୨ৎ───୨ৎ

Part two or what?

taglist: @stargirl-mayaa @czarinera @dovediva @dreamersparacosm @girlythings111 @love2fangirl @migueloharassoulmate @fangirl4lifetime @wonallofme @otakusimp1

#gong yoo x reader #gong yoo #the trunk #han jeong won x reader #han jeong won #the salesman x reader #the salesman #the recruiter #recruiter x reader

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joeyfranchise · 4 months ago

Text

no one’s ever had me (not like you)

joe burrow x reader

description: after a tough week 5 loss in overtime, joe comes home to you angry and confused. you try to make him feel better and comfort him, letting him know you’ll always be there.

warnings: nothing too bad, but still MDNI. (makes me uncomfy.) lots of angry joe, a bit of fluff, semi-spicy kiss. mostly angst.

word count: 1.8k

note. hi hi! this is my first joe fic/blurb so i hope you guys enjoy it. sorry in advance that lowercase is my aesthetic. i used to get yelled at for it in elementary school. i love you guys. who dey!! (title & plot are lyrics from so high school, i love u mother taylor.)

pacing. you were pacing back and forth in front of the television in joe’s living room, watching the seconds tick down to end regulation time in the game. it took everything in you not to turn it off.

you watched as the minutes, seconds, milliseconds in overtime ticked by, hoping and praying your boyfriend and his team could pull out a win.

you felt your heart lurch as mcpherson went for the field goal and the ball wasn’t in the correct place. wide left. you knew it was over. you continued watching, frozen in place, as baltimore did everything they needed to do to score. they made it to field goal range, kicked, and won the game. your heart was hammering against your chest. your breath was coming out in short puffs.

after valiant efforts from joe and the rest of the team, the bengals once again took a loss at the very end of the game, something that kept happening to them this year. you knew joe would come home upset.

watching the post game interview was going to be something you dreaded today. joe took his seat and began talking to the interviewers, answering their repetitive questions and talking about what needed to be done to fix the team, what could use work next week.

you rested your head in your hands and blew out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “oh, joey…” you whispered, seeing your boyfriend’s clearly upset glare on the screen. you couldn’t wait to see him when he got home, but you were unsure of what his mood would be.

after the interview was done, you turned the television off. ‘i could start some laundry’ you thought, at least that’d keep you busy until joe’s return home.

you made your way to his bedroom, which honestly felt like your room too, and gathered all the clothes that needed to be washed before taking them to the laundry room. you tossed the laundry into the machine and then added in your favorite scent beads and detergent before turning it on and closing the lid.

‘i can tackle dishes next’ you thought, heading for the large kitchen. of course you could’ve loaded them into the dishwasher, but something needed to keep you busy and washing dishes was always strangely cathartic to you.

you popped your earbuds in and started listening to your favorite playlist before tackling the chore. once dishes were complete, you vacuumed, watered a few plants, and made yourself a snack. finally the washer beeped, so you went to switch the clothes over.

as you were switching them, joe arrived home, pulling his sleek black car into the garage before locking it up and heading into the house. listening to your music and keeping yourself busy helped lift your spirits some, which you hoped would aide you when joe finally made it back.

when he didn’t greet you upon entering the house, you knew tonight would be a tough night.

you peeked your head out of the laundry room to check for a clear coast, and it was. tiptoe-ing your way down the hall, you made your way to the kitchen where joe still was, his back facing you.

you cleared your throat softly to get his attention, but he didn’t move. you could see he was scrolling through his phone, you worried he was reading negativity that was being spewed about himself and the team.

“joey?” you called, your voice sounded smaller than you intended.

“what?” he snapped, turning to face you. you flinched at the tone of his voice, taking half a step back. internally he berated himself for scaring you, but his post-game mood was too foul to turn off now.

“i know it’s silly to ask, but are you okay?” you question, looking up at him from across the room.

he ran his hand through his short blonde hair before blowing a snarky chuckle through his nose, scoffing at you.

“am i okay?” he snarked, locking his phone and shoving it in his pocket. “what a great question! you sound like the post-game interviewers!”

the bite in his tone was starting to affect you, but you didn’t want to leave him alone just yet. as much as it hurt, you knew what he needed in this moment was to let this anger out any way possible.

“talk to me about it.” you pleaded, walking toward him and placing a hand on his forearm. he rolled his eyes as a response. “c’mon joey, i know you’re mad but you can—“ you don’t get to finish your sentence before joe groans out in response, a loud “UGH!” before lobbing his water bottle at the wall. you’re shocked it doesn’t bust a hole through.

“what is there to say, hmm? what do you want me to tell you that the world doesn’t already think or know? we aren’t looking like a championship team right now. everything we’re doing is never enough for success, and here i am, 27 years old and being called washed up.” he chides, looking down at you. his voice booms across the room, making you feel only inches tall.

your expression drops, and you turn your gaze toward the wall as tears well up in your eyes. joe takes a small step toward you, his hands flexing at his sides. you can tell he wants to reach out to you, touch you, apologize to you for scaring you.

“i’m sorry.” he says softly, hanging his head. you’ll let him make the first move. he steps toward you again, bringing a hand up to your shoulder, testing the waters. when he sees that you’re still receptive to his touch, despite his atrocious attitude, he moves his hand to the back of your neck before pulling you into him for a hug. you instinctively reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into you.

both of you stay like that for a few moments, just holding each other and feeling each other breathe. joe’s face is buried in your neck and your hand is scratching slow soft circles into his hair. you hear him sniffle and you pull away slightly, trying to get a view of his face. he looks up at you with red eyes, tears falling down his cheeks.

“joey, baby,” you comfort him, “it’s going to be okay. you’re going to be okay.” your heart breaks seeing him so upset.

he says nothing, but leads you out of the kitchen and to the living room so you can sit down together. he plops onto the couch and pulls you into his lap, burying his face again.

“i just feel like i’m failing them. i’m doing everything within my power, and it doesn’t seem like enough.” he rasps, muffled into your neck. you say nothing, knowing he needs to get this out. you run your hands down his biceps as a gesture for him to keep going, that you understand.

“the whole world thinks i’m a fluke. they think my play-calling is shit, they think i had one kick-ass college season and that i made it to the nfl and choked. when does it end, you know? we took our team to the superbowl and what happened? we lost. it just feels like i’m stuck in this rut and i can’t get out.”

you sit for a moment, processing what he said. his words hurt you, just as much as you know the thoughts hurt him.

“i hear you joey. i really do. but i have some things i’d like to say, if that’s okay.”

he nods, expectant eyes raking over your face. “i’d love to hear it, baby. please.”

“first of all,” you start, playing up your sass in an attempt to make him laugh, “you aren’t washed up. people who think you are most likely sit on their couches and rot all day long while you’re out here training and conditioning your body for the physicality of your job. i think you’re in your prime.” you pause, squeezing his biceps for emphasis.

“next, you can’t take all the blame. sure, you’re the leader of the team, but it doesn’t all fall on you. it’s very noble of you to do that, but you don’t have to shoulder it. you played your heart out today. you all did. i’m so proud of you.” you move your hands to his face, cupping his cheeks.

“lastly, fuck what the world thinks, joe. you know how good you are. i know how good you are. your parents know, your teammates know. other players in the league know. you’re incredible. you’ve got this, and after all is said and done i will be here. win or lose, i’m here, and i’ve got you.”

his eyes soften as you finish speaking. you don’t get a verbal reply. his hands reach up to cup your face, pulling you into him for a long kiss. his lips are soft against yours and it doesn’t take long before his hands are slipping up the back of your hoodie and rubbing along the exposed skin of your back.

your hands stay on his cheeks, loving the feeling of him being so close to you, his body pressed into yours. “i. love. you. so. much.” you tell him between pecks, feeling him smile into the kiss. one of his hands returns to your face and then tangles into your hair, tilting your head slightly as his tongue drags over your bottom lip.

he slowly slips his tongue into your mouth, gliding it against yours. after a moment, you pull away for air.

“thank you for that,” he smiles, stroking his hands down your arms, “for all of it. i needed that. i love you too. and i’m sorry for scaring you with my temper.”

“it’s okay, mine can be worse.” you jest, poking him in the ribs.

he pulls you down so you’re both laying on the couch before pulling his large cable knit throw blanket over you both. “let’s put it out of our minds, get takeout, and watch a movie.” you suggest, and he smiles in agreement. the two of you get cozy and pick your movie and dinner, remaining snuggled up on the couch as you watch and eat.

“you’re right, you know.” joe finally speaks again, as the movie nears its end.

“i usually am, but enlighten me.” you laugh, slipping your hand under his shirt and resting it on his abdomen.

“you’ve always had me. every turn, every bump in the road. every time i feel like i’ve made the biggest mistake, the biggest failure of my life. you’re there. you talk me through it and you put me in my place. no one’s ever had me like you have. i love you too, by the way.”

a soft smile spreads across your face as you reach up to stroke his hair again. “ditto baby, no one’s ever had me, not like you.”

he leans down and presses another soft, sweet peck to your lips. everything was going to be okay. you always had each other.

tags: @slimshiesty if you wanna be added, or if you have requests pls send me asks or dm’s! 💗

#joe burrow #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow fic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow angst #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow smut #joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader fanfic #nfl fanfic #nfl fanfiction

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voxisdaddy · 10 months ago

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Sweets

C/TW: Mentions of sex but otherwise nothing bad.

Nah but imagine Vox knowing you have a crush on him and he’s thinking like, yeah I could take advantage of this—meaning ‘hell yeah I get laid and an attractive partner? Sign me up’. Regardless of what your relationship with him is, he is interested and down to fuck and have a possible sexual relationship with you from here on out. So he makes his move by inviting you to his personal living quarters in the Vee Tower. You walk in, heart fluttering about at the prospect your crush wanting to spend time with you, and are quickly met with Vox. He of course puts the moves on you; charming smirk, the correct choice of words, arm wrapping around your hips or your waist as he pulls you in closer to him. He hints at something—a burning desire. You’re flustered in his arms. He’s thinking, yeah he’s got this in the bag. But then you push on his chest and unwrap yourself from his arm. Wait what? “Vox,”—You’d start, “I’m flattered but…I’m not that kind of person.” You then excuse yourself and before Vox knows it, he’s standing alone in his living quarters. You’re into him? He knows this. What happened? Despite his annoyances with the results, he still persists. He spends the next several weeks trying to seduce you, flirting with you very sexually—not Valentino level but still sexually charged. Yet every time he gets shot down. One day he’s ranting to Velvette about it to which she rolls her eyes and scoffs, “Is sex the only thing you can think about?” Velvette whips out her phone, pulling up your social media pages, all your likes, comments, reposts, music playlists, shows and movies you watch, ect,. “They’re a romantic��A fucking sweet one at that. Taking advantage of their feelings just so you can get your dick wet whenever you want isn’t gonna get you anywhere, darling.” Vox spends a few days thinking it over. Okay so a more romantic approach. But he tried inviting you over! He even set the mood and everything. Though it was with the hope that…it would quickly lead to having you naked on his bed. He probably has some sort of mental war with himself about it too. Like why’s he trying so hard? It isn’t until he spots you on one of his cameras where he realizes he may want something much more than just sex with you. But is it too late? Did all his attempts at wooing you really scare you away? He watched with bated breath as you sat on a water fountain, gingerly typing away on your phone. You were wearing the loveliest looking spring dress/shirt. You looked so…beautiful. So sweet. So innocent. And romantic. A type of romance that seemed like it didn’t exist in hell. He was so mesmerized he didn’t even realize a second figure coming to sit next to you. He only realized when you put your phone down and smiled sweetly at the person. Who was this person? Why are you so close together? Why do you look like you’re blushing—? Oh. It’s a date.

As a hopeless romantic, reading Vox x Reader fics and so many of them having some kind of sexual undertone or more mature tone makes me kind of sad. I truly love tooth rotting fluffy romance. Think—picnic in a cherry blossom field while wearing the strawberry dress. So I wanted to write a little (not so little, it kinda got away from me) imagine where Vox’s idea of romance clashes with readers and it ends up only pushing them away. So yeah. Here’s that. I mean no disrespect to everyone’s fics of them tho—trust me they’re delicious in every way possible but I just really need to feed my hopeless sweet romantic side for a bit <3

#hazbin hotel #x reader #vox #hazbin hotel vox x reader #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel x reader #fluff #kinda angsty #I really wanted a more sweet fun innocent love okay lol #in my delusions he calls me sweetheart

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melrodrigo · 9 months ago

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music nerds

Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jenna stumbles upon a tiny vinyl shop, and thinks the employee is mighty cute.

A/n: here it is nerds, my first jenna fic. Was in a silly goofy mood, I miss my babygirl so.

It started at the vinyl shop. You, rearranging the different records into the correct sections, stood humming absentmindedly to the tune of the song playing.

“How’s my favorite employee of the month doing?” Your coworker (and best friend) Harry pipes up, leaning on the shelves opposite you.

“You can stop calling me that, we both know the only reason I got crowned this month was because you missed six days and I had to cover for your ass.” You mumble, slightly annoyed. It had been a long day, with customers shuffling in and out without ever buying anything. It didn’t help that the only customers Harry attended to were girls he thought were cute.

He nudges you a little, trying to prompt you away from rearranging the vinyls.

When you don’t answer, he huffs a little and then makes his way to the back—no doubt about to take a nap—where he’ll stay until closing time.

You sigh softly, shaking your head.

Even though you loved Harry to shreds, you hated being his coworker. He could be trusted with nothing.

You move over to the next section, swaying a little to the tune, losing yourself in the music.

You’re aware of the jingle of the bell that indicates someone has entered as you shuffle through the records.

They could take care of themselves for just a few minutes, you reckon.

Soft footsteps sound from behind you, and the sound of someone putting a stop to the music makes you frown. Then, there’s a tiny scratching noise before the melody of I am Controlled By Your Love by Helene Smith sounds through the tiny store.

You can’t help the tiny smile that envelops your face; and the surprise that echos through your mind. You’d just found out about this song, while scrolling through a playlist someone had made for your celebrity crush, Jenna Ortega.

Apparently she liked the song, if you remembered correctly from watching one of her interviews passingly.

“Great choice.” You tell whoever put it on, still not turning to face them.

“Thanks, I’m surprised this place has it. I’ve been looking for weeks.” A girl answers, and it sounds vaguely familiar.

“Well, we sure do. One of the best vinyl stores in the country if I do say so myself.” You smile, finally finishing tampering with the discs and turn to your customer.

It takes everything in you to not gasp out loud—standing in front of you was the Jenna Ortega.

You feel your hands grip the shelves just a little tighter, and you prayed to god that Jenna didn’t see the blush very quickly climbing up your neck.

“One of the best, huh?” She smiles, and you swear you could feel your heart physically melt.

She looks, if not better, exactly like in the pictures. It’s surreal, this person you see almost everyday on your phone, standing in front of you.

She’s wearing a black turtleneck sweater and some baggy jeans. There are sunglasses blocking her eyes, maybe to try to avert attention, but you could tell in an instant who she was.

You think she knows too, by the way she’s smirking a little.

“Yeah, and there are a ton of artists just like the one you just put on, at the back corner over there.” You point with shaky fingers, cursing yourself for looking so stupid.

She nods and disappears further into the store, and you breathe out in relief.

Holy shit! Jenna Ortega!

You place a hand over your heart, reminding yourself to be normal and check if you’re still breathing.

“Uh-I’m sorry. I couldn’t find it. Where did you say?” She pops her head out from one of the shelves, cocking her head to the side.

You grab your bearings, determined to not make a fool of yourself.

You were an employee. Just an employee helping out a confused customer.

“It’s hard to find, believe me I know.” You smile reassuringly, sauntering over to where she was standing.

“Here, just follow me.” You say, weaving through the maze that was this tiny vinyl store.

She bumps into you a few times, saying a soft sorry as she does. You placate her worries with soft it’s okays everytime she does.

“Ahah! Right here. My pride and joy.” You beam, getting used to having her so close and relaxing.

“What would you recommend?” She muses, flicking through the artists.

“Well, I’m a Beatles girl myself,” You tell her, looking over the records, “but I am a sucker for The Mamas & The Papas.”

She raises an eyebrow at you, and you hold your hands up in defeat.

“I know, I know! I’m a mainstream whore.” You say before you can stop yourself, something definitely inappropriate to say to a customer.

Jenna lets out a little giggle, fast like she can’t help herself.

You take the opportunity to keep talking, since she seems interested in the music over here.

“But, there is another artist somewhere here, I think you’ll like.” You wink, then mentally face palm yourself.

You turn back to the records in order to hide your expression, finally finding the guy you were looking for.

“Frank Zappa.” You explain as you hand it over to her. “An instrumental.”

She looks at it thoughtfully, inspecting the album art; then looks up at you and smiles. Her brown eyes make you want to cry and scream, but you keep your composure.

“You have nice eyes.” She murmurs, eyes flickering over your face. Then, just as fast, she turns away and walks back the way you came.

“What just happened.” You breathe once she’s out of earshot, carefully walking back to the cashier.

She’s waiting, texting someone on her phone.

When you slide up behind the counter, all flirty smiles, she tilts her head.

“Took you long enough.” She teases, scrunching her nose in embarrassment unconsciously.

You stutter endlessly, trying and failing to come up with an excuse. It all comes out in one jumbled poor excuse of a sentence that you try to cover up with a cough.

You slide her things over and scan them, not daring to look at her probably smug face.

“That’s all.” You say, somewhat bashfully, stealing a glance back at her.

Her eyes flicker with something you can’t quite place, but something you can certainly feel. Warmth envelops you whole, your knees turning into jelly.

You put her stuff into a plastic bag, hand them over, and bite back the hitch of breath when your hand grazes hers.

She bites her lip thoughtfully, shifting on her feet. The bag is in her hands now, she’s free to leave.

But still, she stands there, looking like she’s thinking very hard about something.

You try and prompt her out of her thoughts, murmur a quiet, “Anything else?” and watches as she takes out her phone and pushes it to your side of the desk.

“Yeah. Your number.” She squeaks, blushing a faint pink. She clears her throat and says it again, in a tone deeper than before.

It takes absolutely everything in you to keep your mouth shut. It desperately desperately wants to drop, not quite computing what is really happening.

You take it before she can change her mind, quickly jamming in your number and taking a quick photo for the profile.

She beams as you hand it back to her, not bothering to stop the cheeky satisfied smile that wants to take over her lips.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” She asks, and you nod adamantly, forgetting all pretense of chill.

“Right. Uh huh. Super!” You call out as she makes her way out the door, shaking her head at your dorkiness.

“Holy shit!” You yell this time, breathing out a huge sigh of relief you didn’t even know you were holding.

You’re rooted to the spot, afraid that if you move you’ll wake up and this’ll all be a dream.

“Wha-What happened?” Harry comes tumbling out the back door, plastic baseball bat in hand.

You lock eyes with him and let yourself fall down into the nearest chair, all wild eyes.

“I just got Jenna Ortega’s number!” You tell him, letting your hands run through your hair, happy and stressed.

His eyes narrow, then he shoots you a lopsided smirk.

“Sure you did.” He says, letting the baseball bat fall beside him, guard down.

“No Harry, she really came in here! And asked me for my number!” You yell, exasperated.

You can tell he doesn’t really believe you, but all it takes is one good look at your face, all white and red at the same time, and he’s widening his eyes comically wide.

“No fucking way.” He gushes, sliding over to sit beside you. He practically preens over you, all questioning eyes.

“Well what did you do?” He pushes, waiting for you to elaborate.

You tell him the whole story, slightly reveling in his reactions. He never fails to make you laugh at his comments.

“So…what now?” Harry asks after a minute, raising his eyebrows.

You sigh. “I don’t know, I guess I’m gonna have to wait for her to call me. Who knows how long that’s gonna take.”

“Well, you better be ready for her when she does. Oh my god we so need to do a makeover.” He rambles, turning on his phone to look at hairdressers nearby. You lean back into your chair, overwhelmed.

For now, you’re worry-less. Jenna Ortega just asked for your number, and you think you couldn’t be luckier. The only thing to do now was wait, and so you do.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega imagine #tara carpenter x reader #wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader

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wordsarelife · 5 months ago

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—twenty-two

pairing: theo nott x fem!reader

summary: you try to make theo a swiftie and succeed

warnings: none

note: kinda modern au, considering reader has a phone and a working internet connection (technology works at hogwarts in this fic)

you’d always known theo was a tough nut to crack, but you were determined. if there was one mission you were set on, it was getting him to appreciate the artistry of taylor swift. he could roll his eyes all he wanted, but you weren’t giving up. not when there was so much he was missing out on.

it started with small things—playing folklore in the common room when you knew he was studying nearby, leaving your taylor swift playlist on shuffle when he happened to be sitting with you in the library. he never said anything, just raised a brow or gave you a look, but you could tell. the seed had been planted.

you started to go a bit deeper, always choosing the right song or album for theo's mood at the moment.

you would play lover or red when you were getting ready and theo was watching you sort through clothes or put on makeup with a content smile on his face.

you played folklore or evermore during quiet nights in the common room, with thick socks and fluffy blankets in front of the warm glow of the fireplace.

he was not ready to admit it yet, but you could see that theo didn't mind as much as he used to. he never actually said something, about liking her music, but he had stopped frowning when you took out your phone and opened your music app.

one time, in the middle of studying, you even saw him bop his head along to 'you belong with me', which quickly turned out to be his favorite, because his mood would rise anytime you played it.

"aren't you putting on any music?" theo asked one day while on a walk through the hogwarts grounds.

"well, do you want me to?" you retorted, a winning smile on your face.

he shrugged. "i don't care. just thought it was odd"

you didn't miss the slight smile once you had pressed play on speak now or how he took your hand in yours, connecting them to the enchanting melody of mine.

the following night both of you stayed up longer, per theo's demand, so you could explain to him the lore of taylor swift and kanye west.

theo was pretty laid back and usually not interested in any drama, but he was kind of intrigued as long as no one he closely knew was involved.

you recounted everything that had happened between your favorite singer and kim kardashians husband. theo nodded along understandingly, throwing in his own questions at the appropriate times.

"i didn't know that there was so much backstory"

"crazy, right?" you asked, wide-eyed. "but if that hadn't happened we wouldn't have reputation now"

"what?"

"it's another album" you shrugged "it's called reputation"

"did we ever listen to that one?" he asked, recounting all the times you had shown him some of her stuff, while you had always made sure to mention what album the song you were listening to was on.

"no" you shook your head.

"why? you clearly like it"

"it's one of my favourites" you nodded, deep in thought "i never showed you because i didn't want to listen it as long as it wasn't a taylor's version yet"

"a what?"

his question resulted in twenty more minutes of backstory. theo's eyes widened as you explained the lore of the rerecordings to him.

"i guess i could show you the album through youtube" you muttered, taking out your phone "fan accounts that made lyric videos should be alright to watch"

theo and you spent the better time of the rest of the night watching fan-made videos for the songs on reputation. you could tell that he was obsessed immediately, going as far as taking out his phone and screenrecording the songs he liked most.

"they are amazing" he gushed as he recorded so it goes, which seemed to be his favorite off the album.

"told you" you shrugged, a soft smile on your lips as you watched his amazement grow. "it's not embarassing to admit that i was right"

"should've listened to you, baby" he muttered, pressing his face into the pillow next to him. you moved a hand through his hair. "i like it"

"i know" you kissed his temple. you put your phone on the nightstand after searching for a playlist of calm taylor songs to fall asleep to. "now we can enjoy her together"

theo pulled you into his arms, his voice humming along to the tunes of last kiss, as both of you slowly fell asleep.

after that night, theo added a few taylor swift songs to his regular playlists (he had different ones for different moods) and made a habit to learn the lyrics to his favorites.

one time, when him and blaise were out for a smoke, theo put on one of the playlists (smoke and relax) and the shuffle promptly landed on delicate.

blaise quickly noticed who was singing, considering your simple overuse of her music during study time with your friends, making fun of theo almost immediately.

"taylor swift, really?" he puffed out the smoke through his mouth, quirking a brow at theo.

theo simply shrugged. "y/n loves her"

"you don't have to like everything your girlfriend does, you know man?" blaise muttered "you're allowed to have your own interests, taylor swift shouldn't be one of them"

"yeah? why not?"

"huh?" blaise had been a bit surprised by theo's quick and simple answer. "you're not a girl, mate"

"thank you, i'm aware"

theo's sarcasm clearly annoyed blaise, as he threw his cigarette onto the ground, stomping it out in the snow, before he turned to head inside. "don't let it change you, man" he smirked. "you're not a swiftie or whatever they're called"

"i might as well be" theo shrugged, not even bothered at this point.

"you're doing weird shit to get laid"

"yeah, maybe if you would put in the same effort you would get laid too, ever considered that?" theo smirked, clearly amused by the shocked expression that crossed blaise's face.

"so, uh..which album would you recommend?"

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keystonepublishing · 6 months ago

Text

Dirges in The Dark by WixWrites

Before I start, let me just say: Ranchers! Scarian! Hermits and Life Series and Empires characters! Sheriff Jimmy! Sheriff Scar! Criminal Tango! the Wild West! Treebark and Ethubs!

RANCHERS. THE WILD WEST. CREEPING ELDRITCH HORROR.

Whoo, that was a rush.

I'll be honest; I think this book would have come out much sooner if not for my decision to add-in a whole lot of stuff into the text and pages. It got to the point that the original cover would have been a wanted poster at the front and a sheriff's report at the back!

I had to restrain myself, lest this book would never get finished at all. It's already been 59 days since my last post, and doing the original cover would have stretched the days even further. So I had to follow the mantra: Finished, not perfect. Besides, nothing says I can't make another version in the future...

From the moment I finished this fic, I knew it would become a book. But at 143,412 words, Dirges in The Dark by @twodiamondhoes would stretch my ficbinding skills to the limit and would be the second-ever bind that would reach past 250 pages (the first was an MCYT Sleepy Bois fic that predates this blog that I want to redo).

Eventually, the full typeset took up 520 pages! And as such, I finally decided to use extra support for the entire textblock. From an old pair of pajamas, I backed strips of fabric with glue and paper before cutting it into tapes, forming a crucial support for the various weaves along the spine. I then covered the entire spine in brown wrapping paper for even more strength.

For the title and headings, I scoured for and found several typefaces, dingbats, and vector graphics which really evoked the fic's Western and Gothic vibes. I also took some inspiration from fellow ficbinders in the Renegade Publishing group for the style of layout and formatting throughout the book, such as using faded images in the background of these pre-story pages.

I wanted the reader to be immersed in the Wild West from the get-go, so having such images from the start — before the story even begins — felt very appropriate. I tried to make them thematic to the information presented, like a singing cowboy for the music playlist pages, but I think I made the image too faint to be seen!

As for the chapter openers, I experimented with some layouts before finalizing on what you see: photos taking up one entire page on the left with the chapter titles and opening paragraphs on the right.

Just like my last bind, I want to make the reader feel immersed in the story and also bring out the mood of that particular chapter. This, however, led me to entire days of scouting and scouring stock photo sites just to find the right pictures for 11 different chapters. 4/10 would not recommend for sanity.

Given that the story uses a number of foreign words, old slang, and specific Wild West-era terms, I added a plethora of footnotes at the bottom of some pages for extra context and meaning.

I also wanted to be playful and make certain story parts, such as characters receiving letters and notes, really look like they're a part of the story. So I cropped old paper textures and fished out old fonts from the past to make them look as if they're actually there, pasted against the paragraphs!

More importantly, there were some specific parts of the fic that felt super important and I wanted to highlight these passages, especially the Deals made by the characters throughout their arcs. Given DiTD has a certain affinity with eldritch darkness, I decided to highlight such paragraphs by backlighting them against a band of pure black. Besides being thematic as hell, I made the bands have curved edges and decorative lines to add a certain western-gothic touch!

It was from this that I begin to think "what if I can color entire pages to convey the mood and setting?"

...Which led to the madness in these pages. I can't reveal too much because of spoilers, but there are certain times when the characters end up in situations where the very light turns to dark. Or they end up in hellish situations. Or the eldritch creatures began to speak.

It took some creative brainstorming to figure out how to show the mood of such scenes in printed pages, but I eventually figured out that I need find the right fonts, change their colors from black to white, and then change their backgrounds from white to dark to highlight them all! The power of formatting!

There's a lot more pages where I went wild with such shades and fonts, but I ain't revealing in public because spoilers!

But undoubtedly, this is the biggest experiment I have made with this bind. There is a certain part where Grian and Pearl spoke in eldritch R'lyehian / Cthuvian, and I want to convey the sheer strangeness of the speech and it's meaning. Something outside the box.

Luckily, I have an inspiration in fellow fanbinder @mythrilthread, who made an amazing fanbind that used vellum overlays to showcase the speaking of alien languages and what they mean in English. AND IT LOOKS SICK AS FUCK. When I finished reading Dirges, I knew I had to emulate this form of language translation, so I printed the eldritch speech, cut it, and pasted it onto the spine to give a similar effect of strangeness, and IT LOOKS SO COOL!!!

And lastly, I just had to include some of the amazing fanart made by readers into the book! All of these are placed by their corresponding text and chapters, and they all look so cool!

So I want to give a special thanks to @azzayofchaos, @leafdoodles, @hybbart, and @foxyola for granting their permission for me to include their incredible works into this bind! The dark shades and page formatting is one thing, but these works truly make this book feel so much more alive!

All in all, this bind was an odyssey in the making. I experimented with page formatting, layout wizardry, and bookmaking methods that I haven't tried before. While I know I could do better, I am beyond happy to see this work finished!

And once again, a thousand thanks to @twodiamondhoes / WixWrites for crafting an amazing story!

#bookbinding #fanbinding #ficbinding #my bookbinds #mcyt #Hermitcraft #Life SMP Series #Trafficblr #Empires SMP #Dirges In The Dark #jimmy solidarity #tangotek #team rancher #solidaritek #Wild West #Old West #American West

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ghost-with-a-teacup · 2 years ago

Text

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader

Summary: Some nights you just can't seem to sleep no matter how hard you try, it's alright though because Miguel's on his way home.

Warnings: None, it's just very, very soft.

A/N: Not a request, but I have to write at least one fic about dancing in the middle of the night with Miguel. Set in the same universe as What's In Between, listen to the song mentioned here. Enjoy!

Everyone has those nights where they just can’t fall asleep. Whether it’d be the stresses of the day before or the next, an issue that has been troubling you, or simply because you can’t shut off your mind and fall asleep, it inevitably happens to us all.

Unfortunately for you, that was tonight. After tossing and turning for the last two hours, you had enough.

Maybe it was because the bed just felt so empty without Miguel in it, who knows.

All you knew was that you could not fall asleep. So what better thing to do than to make a late-night snack?

Sliding out of bed, you blearily blink your eyes as they readjust to the kitchen light. After a few moments of scrolling through your playlists you settle on a soft one, to match the mood of the early morning (or late night depending on who you asked).

The music played softly in the background as you made your favourite snack, humming along to the song. Miguel’s shirt hung loosely down your frame as a warm summer breeze floated in through the open window.

The reason you loved the night so much was because it was so quiet. So simple, so peaceful, with only the light of the moon shining its way.

“One day, I will stop falling in love with you~” you sing softly, swaying from side to side in between bites, a happy little smile on your face.

Miguel watched as you swayed gently from side to side, a soft look on his face as he feel himself relax with your presence alone.

He still wore his Spiderman suit, the aches of a difficult mission starting to settle in his bones but he seemed to forget all of that the moment he saw you.

“Until then I’ll drink my coffee, eat my pie pretend that we are more than friends~,” you sing, swirling around as you feel that familiar prickle giving away his presence.

His eyes seem to widen slightly as you acknowledge him before a small smile settles on his face.

“Then of course I’ll let you break my heart again,” you say, making your way up to him as the smile on your face mirrors his own.

“Dance with me?” you ask him, holding out a hand for him to grasp. He only shakes his head.

“Mi alma, you know I’m not much of a dancer,” he replies but eyes your hand for a moment.

“Oh, c’mon Miguel,” you plead, a hand held out waiting for him to hold it. “Just one dance?” And even though he tried his hardest, he just couldn’t resist the look in your eyes.

“Alright, but just one,” he says, grasping your hand warmly before pulling you close, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your expression lights up as he does, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his chin.

He can’t help the smile that plays across his face, his heart growing so warm in fondness.

The longer he holds you in his arms, the more he can feel his body relax within your embrace as you sway from side to side with the slow melody.

Being a protector of the multiverses, he didn’t have time to be soft. Not when the decisions he made, when the decisions all the spiders had to make under his direction would destroy that softness in an instant….But with you, he could afford that vulnerability, because he knew you would hold the frail wounded heart hidden behind the walls he built gently.

He reserved that softness for you, only you.

“Someday, one day,” you continue to sing, and he lets your voice wash over him like a calm ocean wave. “I will stop falling in love with you.”

He lifts an arm up from your waist for a moment, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I don’t think I ever could, querida,” he whispers softly. “Stop falling in love with you, I mean.”

You look up at him, unable to stop the tears from welling in your eyes at the admission but he wipes them away before they could fall.

“I don’t think I could either,” you say softly before leaning your head back on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. “You’re stuck with me, unfortunately,” you chuckle, but he only pulls you closer.

“How are you feeling?” you ask hesitantly, noticing how he looked more tired than usual. You knew it was a 50/50 tossup as to whether he would answer in truth, but you knew he appreciated the thought.

It wasn’t often he allowed himself to be vulnerable, truly vulnerable with you. To spill all those thoughts swirling in the beautiful chaos that was his mind. That strong front he put up was the only thing that held him together.

“I’m alright, mi corazón,” he answers, though his eyes held the depth of a thousand words.

He was tired…but he was home.

Taglist: @remuslupinwifee

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x reader #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x reader

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elllisaaa · 6 months ago

Text

RIGHT HERE - H. HYEONGJUN

SUMMARY : when one drunken night leads you to kiss your best friend, it gets and harder and harder to ignore your underlying feelings for him

-> pairing : best friend!hyeongjun x fem!reader

-> words count : 9.6k words

-> genre : friends-to-lovers, smut, a tiny bit of angst and some fluff at the end

-> warnings : switch!hyeongjun x switch!reader, unprotected sex, making out, swearing, teasing, riding, fingering, semi-public sex, creampie, oral (f. receiving), dry humping, begging, marking, little bit of choking (because i'm obsessed with these pretty hands of his), dirty talk, alcohol consumption, jealousy, yn has big boobs because i have big boobs and i want to feel appreciated lmaoo, junhan is wearing a half skirt at one point because he looks hot with that, tiny bit of angst

+ the way i'm depicting junhan does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction.

-> 18+ content bellow, minors DNI

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language

-> author's note : a little fic for the birthday boy !! i just had to celebrate one of my ults' bias special day, and it was good that i was working on this fic at the same time ! i had this idea back in january, and honestly i never thought that it would finally come together but i love how it turned out and i hope you'll like it as much as i do, because honestly writing junhan is so therapeutic for me for some unknown reasons lmaoo.

-> playlist : right here by chase atlantic - do i wanna know ? by arctic monkeys - keep me up by b.i - she by harry styles - i like the way you kiss me by artemas

-> masterlist | xdh masterlist

Hyeongjun had never been the type to go to parties. He enjoyed music, yes, but not the loud ones everyone played at these events, and he hated it even more when you dragged him on with you. However, he never said no, never refused to follow you along with his members. All of them were always eager to go to these parties, and you too. He always felt like he was killing the mood by saying he didn’t like it. But what really convinced him every time were your pleading eyes, and your cute little pout as you said his name in the most adorable way. At least, he was always the last one still sober and he could bring everybody home safely, he could make sure you were okay at all times.

And he really should get paid for it because dealing with you when you were drunk was some kind of a challenge. But over the loud people and music, the bad smell of alcohol and sex, all the people he didn’t know talking to him just because he was famous ; what he hated the most was seeing you flirt with everyone coming your way.

Hyeongjun was not one to get easily jealous. Hell, he didn’t even have any right to be : he wasn’t your boyfriend, only your best friend. But you got him chewing on his lips and clenching his fists as you were dancing with other men. He wished it was him, wished he was the one holding your hips and making you twirl around and giggle, wished he was the one whispering things that were making you blush in your ears.

But he wasn’t. Maybe if he had had some balls when Gunil introduced you as his childhood friend, maybe if he had followed the advice of his members and asked you out right away, he would’ve been the one dancing with you right now. Maybe he would not be stuck here, and maybe he would not have to settle on looking at you from afar rather than being the one making out with you on that couch. And as much as he wanted to be mad at you for it, he couldn’t. He could only blame himself for the situation he was in, it was all his fault.

The sigh he let out startled the girl standing beside him, the very same one that tried to hit on him for some time. He rejected her already, but she kept coming back for more, and he was starting to get uneasy. He wanted to get out of here, to walk you home, tuck you into bed and then get back to the dorms and pray that one day his feelings will fade away. Because what he felt for you was way more than lust, it was way more than a want or a need and it was becoming harder and harder to hide it from you when your whole body was pressed against his as you tried to walk straight.

“- ‘M so tired, Junnie…

- I know, but we’re almost there, hold on.”

You hummed quietly, trying to not let the exhaustion take over your body. You looked up at Hyeongjun, and you didn’t know if it was the alcohol talking or if it simply allowed you to finally stop lying to yourself, but you couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was incredibly pretty under the city lights. His long hair had these beautiful curls that complimented his face perfectly, his eyes shining under the moonlight and his pointy nose that you had always found attractive casting beautiful shadows all over his face.

“- You’re so pretty.”

Hyeongjun thought that he didn’t hear you right, that it was the alcohol talking. But still, his breath got stuck in his throat when the words left your mouth, and his cheeks heated up when you cupped his cheeks and stood on your tippy toes to kiss him. His eyes widened in surprise, letting you peck his lips for a few seconds before he regained some consciousness and grabbed your shoulders to push you off of him, trying not to let himself soften at the way you whined his name.

“- You shouldn’t do that when you’re drunk, Y/N. I don’t want you to regret it.”

The pout aborning your lips was the cutest thing he had ever seen and it was hard to resist you when you were like this, pleading for the attention he himself craved to give you for months.

“- I won’t ! I promise, Junnie, I just want to kiss you.

- Still. I’m not doing anything while you’re vulnerable. Let’s just go home.”

You whined again, but in the end, you complied to his request and followed him down the streets to your apartment. And as if nothing had happened, you continued to rant to him about one girl that apparently talked behind your friend’s back, but Hyeongjun couldn’t focus on anything else than the feeling of your lips touching his. He was unable to listen to you for the whole ride, simply humming at everything you said and you were too far gone to care about it.

You begged him to come inside and help you take off your makeup because you were too tired to do it yourself. So Hyeongjun did. He kept your hair out of your face as he washed it off, feeling you slowly relaxing under his fingertips. Then, he let you put on some more comfortable clothes, trying not to look at your bare legs as you climbed in your bed wearing only some underwear and an oversized shirt. He tucked you in, and kissed your forehead before going home, the memories of this night playing on loop in his head.

And it didn’t stop messing with him for the next few weeks. As much as Hyeongjun tried to bury himself into his work to forget about what you said, about what you did, he could still hear your slurred voice calling him pretty, he could still feel your lips pressing against his. Everytime he thought he had succeeded in finally getting past all that, something reminded him of you and he was going back to the start again.

The worst part was that he started to make excuses to not see you. It wasn’t like he didn’t miss you, on the contrary even - it was torture for him to turn down your invitation to hang out together. But he was quite certain that if he did see you, he would spill out his feelings like the loser he was and he wasn’t ready to let you go away. Hyeongjun knew that what happened that night probably didn’t mean anything to you, that you were drunk and not thinking straight, but he couldn’t stop his heart from racing when he closed his eyes and he was taken back to the moment you kissed him.

Hyeongjun sighed as he looked down at the lyrics and music sheets in front of him. He had been trying to work on these new ideas for a long time now, but you invaded his thoughts so much that he hadn’t been able to concentrate or focus. He had been there for a good two hours now, and he hadn’t made any progress, the lack of sleep he was getting lately surely not helping his case either. He was ready to go back to his failed attempts to produce something remotely good when some soft knocks at the door of the studio interrupted him. He spared a glance at his phone sitting on the desk and noticed that it was pretty late, brows furrowing as he wondered who it could be.

“- Come in.”

The door cracked open slowly, revealing your familiar silhouette. The weather was starting to warm up a little, thus you were only wearing some shorts and a hoodie that Hyeongjun recognized as his, his whole body heating up at the thought of you feeling this comfortable in his clothes. His eyes then drifted to the small grocery bag that you held in your hands. And even if he hadn’t seen you since that infamous night, and even if he was a little anxious about confronting you, a shy smile creeped up on his lips upon finally seeing you, his heart beating faster as you got closer.

“- I hope I’m not disturbing you ? Just thought that you might be craving some snacks since you’re gonna stay here until late.”

You handed him the bag, which was indeed filled up with his favorite snacks. You had stopped by the dorms on your way and Jiseok had told you where your best friend was, since he seemed to be avoiding you recently. It surprised you, because he wasn’t the type to usually stay up so late. Once again, Hyeongjun couldn’t help the warmth spreading from his head to his toes at knowing you did all that for him, and came all the way here only for him, only because you cared for him.

“- You’re never bothering me, Y/N. And thank you so much, I… It’s really sweet, I appreciate it, even more since I’ve been a terrible friend lately.”

You shrugged as you sat down on the chair beside him, crossing your legs and resting your forearm on your knees. You wanted to talk to him about what happened that night, that was why you came here, mostly. But you couldn’t bring yourself to let the words out, fidgeting with the hem of Hyeongjun’s hoodie.

“- I’m the terrible friend here, honestly. I’m sorry Junnie, I shouldn’t have kissed you and I shouldn’t have pushed when you said no, even if I was drunk, it was incredibly wrong of me to do that. And I understand if you need some time away from me because what I did was really disrespectful.”

Seeing how stressed and anxious you seemed to be made Hyeongjun’s heart clench in his chest. Were you really beating yourself over that for the past weeks ? Did you really think that you made him uncomfortable ? Oh, he was an idiot. Hyeongjun closed his eyes for a second, embarrassment clearly visible on his face as he mentally swore at himself for being so dumb. Of course that ignoring you for such a long time would make you spiral, he knew how you could get sometimes, so why did he do that ?

“- You have nothing to apologize for, Y/N. It’s no big deal, okay ? It was just a kiss, and that’s all. But I should be the one saying sorry, and I am because I’ve been an asshole for making you believe that you did something wrong.”

“No big deal” ? Yeah, of course ! The fact that he couldn’t keep the sensation of your lips pressing against his for more than three minutes showed really well how it was “no big deal”. But he couldn’t tell you that, obviously. It seemed like you regretted it enough for him to ask if there was any meaning behind your actions.

“- Best friends aren’t supposed to kiss, I thought you just needed some space. Just… Please, tell me that I haven’t ruined everything, because that’s the last thing I want.

- You haven’t ruined anything, I promise. I’m just glad we talked it out.”

You nodded but the tears that gathered in your eyes did not want to go away that easily.

“- Come here.”

You grabbed the hand Hyeongjun reached out to you, and you let him pull you in a hug, resting your head against his chest. You sighed deeply as you basked in his embrace, in his comforting presence, in his familiar scent that did wonders to calm you down.

“- So, you think I’m pretty ?”

Hyeongjun chuckled when he felt you hit his chest. You could already feel your face heating up from his question, the memories of that night still fresh in your mind, and the way you embarrassed yourself too.

“- That’s not funny ! I was drunk.

- But you know what they say ? Drunk words are sober thoughts.”

You lifted your head up, a faint blush spread across his cheeks as well. He seemed to have gained some confidence lately, and you loved it for him, but being on the receiving end of it made your heart flutter in a way that was really not good considering Hyeongjun was your best friend. But still, you let him push away a strand of your hair and tuck it behind your ear, loving the feeling of his fingers brushing against your skin a little too much.

“- It’s not a bad thing though, I think you’re pretty too.”

You wanted to act unaffected, to think that he was only trying to make you feel better, but the way your heart skipped a bit was telling you otherwise. And the way you looked down at his lips for a few seconds too long for him to not notice certainly did nothing to help either. The atmosphere had shifted - you could feel it, and from the way Hyeongjun’s lips parted in search of more air, you knew that he felt it too. There was something in the air, something that made you want to give in to your desire.

“- Would it be so bad if I kissed you again ?

- I don’t think so…”

Your own hands went up to cup his face, feeling the heat of his skin under your fingertips. Your eyes drifted from his intense gaze to his pretty lips every two seconds, and slowly, you leaned in closer. His lips brushed against yours once, both of you releasing a shaky breath at the contact. Then, he dared press a soft kiss on your slightly open mouth. And the third time, you finally kissed him for real, your arms wrapping around his neck to push him closer to you.

Hyeongjun welcomed you in his arms again, hands hesitantly going to hold your waist as his eyes fluttered shut. He couldn’t believe that you, his best friend, his crush, were really kissing him right now. But the way your lips were moving in sync with his was a proof of how real all this was, and Hyeongjun decided that he wanted to enjoy it for as long as it was going to last, no matter if it meant nothing for you in the end.

Suddenly, Hyeongjun snickered his arms around your waist, pulling you in to fully sit on his lap, eliciting a gasp from you that allowed him to plunge his tongue in your mouth. He was never this straightforward usually, but he had waited so long to feel you, he didn’t want to waste any more time. His hands found purchase on your thighs as your tongue danced with his, lust clouding his and your mind too.

“- F-Fuck, Y/N… Don’t stop…”

You grinned as you let your kisses wander from the corner of his lips to his neck, lightly sucking on the sensitive skin there, rewarded by some airy moans Hyeongjun couldn’t contain. He bucked his hips into you involuntarily as you bite down on his flesh softly, a whine escaping his lips this time. He made the prettiest sounds ever and you really wondered why you didn’t do that sooner. After all, you always thought that Hyeongjun was handsome - who wouldn’t ? - but never acted on it because he was always so shy to initiate any physical contact with you. And even as you got closer, it was always so platonic, you never dared make a move, nor even admit to yourself that you found him really attractive.

“- Junnie, I want more, please.”

The way you looked into his eyes, the way you whimpered his name, the way you were grinding against his clothed hard on - everything in you made him weak in the knees and he folded so quickly it was surely pathetic but Hyeongjun didn’t care. In this moment, all he wanted was you and nothing else, nobody else.

“- Anything you want, baby.”

The nickname slipped past his lips so easily, as if it was all natural and it made a new wave of arousal crash over you. You knew you couldn’t really do everything you wished because you were still at the studio, but it didn’t stop you from getting rid of your shorts and underwear in the span of a few seconds while Hyeongjun pushed down his sweatpants just enough for him to free his cock.

Your mind was already so far away that you didn’t even take the time to admire him in all his glory, simply coming back to sit on his lap, this time without any clothes to separate the two of you. His hands found their spot back on your waist, this time feeling courageous enough to let them slide down to your ass, guiding you to rock your hips back and forth over his hard dick, coating him in your slickness.

“- Shit, you’re so wet, feeling so good already…”

You never thought you would hear him talking dirty to you one day, but here you were, and you loved it so much that you barely tried to keep your voice down as his tip repeatedly bumped against your clit in the most delicious way.

“- So good, Junnie… Want you so bad, fuck !

- Then take me, baby, take whatever you want from me.”

You didn’t need more than that to sink down on his cock, both of you moaning in harmony as you threw your head back. You felt so full of him, and you felt so tight around him, it was impossible not to get lost in lust. You picked up your pace, rolling your hips a few times before you started to really ride him, the sound of skin slapping filling up the room quickly.

“- You’re so fucking good at this baby, holy shit… So wet and tight…”

You chuckled on top of him, grabbing his shoulders stronger for support as you could feel your knees giving up already from the intense rush of pleasure coursing through your veins.

“- Love your cock, Junnie, feels perfect…”

Hyeongjun hummed at your praises, trying to not let them get to his head but it was hard when you were bouncing up and down his dick and that you felt so good he couldn’t keep his mouth shut, your name falling from his lips when you resumed your kisses on his neck.

“- Y/N… I-I’m gonna cum…

- Me too, I’m so close Junnie…”

As your moves became sloppy, Hyeongjun took it upon himself to grip your waist firmly and help you roll your hips on top of him, thrusting up to meet you halfway. Your mouth fell agape, nails digging into his shoulders over his clothes to ground yourself in reality. As your orgasm washed over you, you weren’t thinking about the fact that Hyeongjun was supposed to be only your friend, you weren’t thinking about everything that he was making you feel and that he shouldn’t. You weren’t thinking about anything other than him and how right having his hands on you and his lips on yours felt.

You were afraid that everything would be awkward after this, but it all went back to normal. It was as if what happened that night, as if what happened in his studio never existed for Hyeongjun. And you should've been happy with that, should've settled for forgetting all about this and not ruining your friendship even more. But deep down, it hurt to know that he was able to not care when he was all you could think about ever since your lips touched his for the first time and you couldn’t get him out of your mind even if you tried.

You felt guilty too. You were the one who started it all, the one who kissed him and told him you thought he was pretty. Hyeongjun never asked to be dragged into all of this. And it felt even more wrong to feel jealous of the way some girl you didn’t know was flirting with him. You had no right to feel that way, no right to be mad at him for doing this - even though you were almost certain that Hyeongjun wasn’t the one who started the conversation.

You had no right to feel jealous, but you were, and you decided that the best way to forget about it was to flirt with someone too. It was the worst choice you could’ve made, but your feelings were too confused to think further, just needing a distraction to stop thinking about Hyeongjun. So you gave a chance to the guy who was trying to hit on you since you arrived, and you tried to be subtle about the way you were often stealing glances in your best friend’s way.

And Hyeongjun couldn’t help doing the same, trying to not let the overwhelming feeling of disappointment take over him as he watched you flirt with another man from afar. He was usually a sweet guy, but right now, he couldn’t care less about whatever this girl whom he didn’t even remember the name of was yapping about. He had a tunnel vision for you, only you standing out of the crowd. And Hyeongjun only wanted to forget about you, forget everything about whatever it was that happened in the studio. So he grabbed his beer, still half-full, and he chugged it down without any hesitation.

The rest of his night was kind of a blur, and when Hyeongjun woke up the next morning, he wasn’t really surprised about the terrible headache that hit him as soon as he opened his eyes. A pained whine escaped his lips as he tried to sit up, the vivid light coming through the window making it all worse. Hyeongjun closed his eyes for a few minutes, trying to remember where he was because he knew for sure that he wasn’t in his bedroom. And then he heard a sigh by his side, his gaze falling on you, peacefully sleeping on the other side of the bed, just as naked as he was. And suddenly, he was hit with all the memories from last night.

“- Junnie ! I’ve been searching for you all night, I missed you !”

The pout on your lips made his heart flutter, but Hyeongjun tried to stay focused on the fact that he was jealous, hurt, and a little mad at you. But it was hard when he had been drinking the whole night, not even able to remember all the alcohols he had, and it was even harder when all he wanted was to kiss your pretty lips and taste you again.

“- I was busy. It seemed like you were very occupied too.”

All the drinks he had were starting to get back at him, and he wasn’t able to leave on the filters he usually had when talking to people, especially when he was talking to you. The bitter tone of his voice hit you like a truck, not used to Hyeongjun being in this kind of mood, especially when he was with you. It hurt too, more than you thought it would.

“- What ? I can’t even have a little fun now ? You were flirting with a girl too…”

It was petty of you to make some reproaches at him when you were always the one doing exactly what you commented about. But the memory of this pretty girl laughing with him was all you could think about. You didn’t even remember the name of the guy you danced with later, too focused on watching over your best friend and this girl, too worried that he might kiss her or go home with her. And you knew it wasn’t how Hyeongjun would act usually, but everything seemed odd tonight. Hyeongjun sighed while shaking his head, visibly disappointed in you.

“- I’ve never said that, Y/N. Fuck… You’re just so confusing right now.”

He ran his hands over his face, trying to remain concentrated on the conversation even if he wanted to either go to sleep and forget everything that had happened these past weeks or just pull you in and shut you up with a kiss. He obviously preferred the second option, even though it was also the one that seemed less likely to happen. You crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly hyper aware of the way your top showed so much of your cleavage, suddenly noticing how you’ve been leading him on because you couldn’t just tell him how you felt. Your head and thoughts weren’t clear, you couldn’t think straight when he was looking at you with a mix of want and sadness - you just wanted to hold him close and never let him go.

“- I’m sorry, that wasn’t my intention.

- I know. I know you’ll never hurt me purposely.

- But I still hurt you…”

Hyeongjun could see how guilty you felt from the way you were biting your lips and avoided his gaze, and he almost regretted saying anything in the first place. But even though he was grateful he got to know what you tasted and felt like, maybe it would have been better if it all stayed in his imagination, if it all stayed a fantasy. It would’ve been so much easier to forget about you if he didn’t know how you sounded like when you were about to cum, if he didn’t know how pretty you were on top of him.

All the alcohol you had made you a little dizzy, not feeling it when Hyeongjun got closer to you until his fingers brushed against your cheeks, prompting you to look up at him. His pretty eyes were glazed with some kind of lust that made your insides twist. You definitely shouldn’t have these feelings for your best friend, but the way his thumb swiping over your bottom lip made your heart skip a beat was enough of a sign for you to finally admit that what you felt for Hyeongjun was way more than friendly sentiments. When you looked in his eyes again, it was like you were suddenly hit by this realization even more, your breathing hitching in your throat as he leaned down to kiss you again.

You closed your eyes and let Hyeongjun do whatever he wanted. It had only been a few days since you had last felt his lips on yours, but it was as if it had been months. And if last time, you had taken your time savoring how his tongue was sliding against yours, tonight you just wanted to take everything he had to give you, tonight you just wanted him in the rawest way possible.

And Hyeongjun felt the same, too hungry, too impatient to wait any longer. He grabbed you by your thighs, lifting you up on the kitchen’s counter. You spread your legs instinctively, pulling him closer again and your lips returning to his. His hands found their place back on your waist, feeling how hot your skin was under his fingertips due to the crop top you were wearing. Your own hands were tangled in his hair, occasionally mindlessly tugging on it and earning some quiet moans from Hyeongjun that made you even wetter.

“- Junnie… Please…”

You were panting against his mouth, desperately grinding against him to get the tiniest amount of friction that was nowhere near enough to ease your desire. Your eyes were hooded, missing how Hyeongjun looked at you as if he wanted to eat you alive, only feeling his hands roaming around your body. He came up to squeeze your breast over the material of your top, making you arch your back into his hands and release an airy whine, wanting more and more of him.

“- Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me and I’ll do it.

- Want your fingers, been dreaming about it…”

The admission made him curse under his breath as he urgently started to help you unzip your jeans, immediately slipping his hand into your panties and going to press down on your clit. You threw your head back instantly, having craved his touch more than you’d like to admit. But it felt so good to finally have his hands on you, so good that you didn’t care about the fact that you were in the kitchen of someone you barely knew.

“- Been fantasizing about me, pretty ? Been thinking about my fingers when you were touching yourself ?”

A low moan escaped your lips as the tip of his fingers brushed against your entrance a few times, and his words turned you on beyond what you thought was possible. You never thought you would ever hear Hyeongjun telling you those things but for some reason it made it all more exciting. Your cheeks were burning up, as well as your whole body as you dived back into his hypnotizing gaze.

“- Say it.

- Y-Yes, I did, thought about it a lot Junnie, couldn’t help myself.

- I thought about you too, baby.”

Upon hearing your answer, Hyeongjun slid one of his fingers inside of you, reaching way deeper than you’ve ever had with your own. A louder moan slipped past your lips, and you had to bite down on the flesh to not let any other sound escape you. His last words were replaying again and again in your mind as his thumb played with your clit just right and his finger moved easily due to how wet you were.

“- You want another ?

- Please, yes…”

You couldn’t help whining as Hyeongjun carefully pushed a second finger inside of your cunt, the feeling overwhelming you in the best way possible. His fingers were much longer than yours, hitting your sweet spot without even trying to and making you clench around them. Slowly, he increased his pace, lewd squelching sounds starting to echo in the room and mixing with the noises coming out of your mouth against your will.

And unlike that night at the studio, now Hyeongjun really took his time to look at you closely. Your boobs were squished in a tiny crop top that showed a lot of your cleavage and made them look heavenly, your pretty waist underlined by the low rise pants you wore. Your hair were brushing against your shoulders every time you looked down to see how quick Hyeongjun’s fingers were moving inside of you, how skillfully he was circling around your clit. But the best part was the way you stared at him with your mouth half-opened, eyes heavy with desire and lust for him, the way you whispered his name like a prayer when he hit that perfect spot.

“- I’m close… I’m so close, please, don’t stop…

- I won’t pretty, cum on my fingers and then I’ll fuck you, yeah ?”

You nodded as best as you could, pleasure already taking over you because of the way he was talking to you, because of the way his mouth got so dirty and filthy all of sudden. You squeezed your eyes shut as your orgasm crashed over you, biting down on your lips hard enough to draw some blood and trying to not let too many noises escape you as you came undone for him, thighs shaking as he continued slowly thrusting his fingers even after you’ve stopped clenching so hard around him. You grabbed Hyeongjun’s hand with a whimper, and the smirk on his lips when you did so almost made you want to let him go on a little longer.

“- Open up.”

You immediately listened to his command, your mouth falling open for him. You felt him pull his fingers out of your cunt, bringing them up to your lips and pushing them against your tongue. You closed your mouth around them, sucking his skin clean of your release until Hyeongjun had enough of the sinful scene in front of him - pulling his fingers out of your mouth and grabbing your throat instead to kiss you hungrily. His tongue found yours again, this time much more demanding and fervent, as if he had let down all his inhibitions, as if he couldn’t contain himself anymore.

Your mind was hazy, but you still felt the aching in your cunt coming back. You needed him, and you needed him now, no matter that anyone could walk in on the two of you. Your hands fell from the back of his neck to the front of his pants, quickly undoing the buttons and zipper, struggling a little more with the straps holding the half skirt completing his outfit. His lips left yours to help you, the black cloth falling on the floor but he couldn’t care less when you were already palming him over his underwear.

“- You sure you wanna do this here ?

- Fuck, yeah, I don’t care, I just need you so bad Junnie…

- Shit… Need you too, pretty.”

You helped Hyeongjun push his boxer’s down enough for his cock to spring free. You didn’t hesitate before spitting in your palm and stroking him a few times, coating him with your saliva. He couldn’t help but stare at your hand, a low moan slipping past his lips.

“- You’re so hot…”

His praises we’re getting to your head, making you even more dizzy and you didn’t even know anymore if it was the alcohol or just the effect he had on you. However, you needed him too bad to tease him for too long, your legs coming up to wrap around his waist and pulling him closer to you until the tip of his cock bumped against your clit. Hyeongjun got a grip of your waist, stopping you from squirming around as he entered your tight, soaked cunt.

“- F-Fuck ! You feel so good, Y/N, so fucking good for me…

- Please move, need more !”

Your voice was already so high pitched, and you seemed so gone - eyes hazy and looking fucked out from his fingers only. Hyeongjun groaned as he tried to not lose himself in the feeling too soon, but it was hard when you felt even better than the last time, it was hard when the alcohol heightened all his feelings, it was hard when you were whining his name like that and looking at him so desperately - you were driving him crazy.

The first thrust of his dick immediately hit your sweet spot, slapping a hand over your mouth to at least try to keep quiet and the other flying to his shoulder to ground yourself in reality. The second thrust had you praying that no one would pass by the kitchen or they would hear you moan like a slut but you couldn’t care anymore when Hyeongjun looked so attractive, eyes glued to where his cock slid right into your wet pussy, his pretty, airy moans engraved in your mind forever.

You didn’t have enough consciousness left to control your noises anymore, not with the way Hyeongjun was pounding into you relentlessly, one hand massaging your tits over the material of your top and the other one back around your throat. The lack of air as he squeezed your neck pushed a choked moan out of your mouth, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you mindlessly gripped his wrist for support.

“- Looking so pretty when I’m the one fucking you… Feels good, baby ?

- Ah ! So good Junnie, you feel so good… Love it, love you so much.”

Hyeongjun was already too far gone to really acknowledge your words, the combination of your velvety walls squeezing him right in when he thrusted back into you and all the drinks he had making him unable to concentrate on anything else than getting you to cum on his dick again. Eager to bring you to your release, he let his thumb come down to play with your clit once again, your moans elevating, not trying to stay quiet anymore.

As soon as he felt you clench down harder around him and that your nails were digging into the skin of his forearm, Hyeongjun let go too, spurred on by your sensual moans and the way he could feel your throat vibrating against his hand. It all became too much when you felt him paint your walls white, overstimulation kicking in but it was too good to ask him to stop. When Hyeongjun finally freed your neck, you took a big, deep breath, the imprints that his rings left on your skin already visible on the sides. He softly brushed his fingers against the marks, feeling both bad for potentially hurting you and proud that he had claimed you in some way.

“- Want to come back to mine ?”

Hyeongjun didn’t hesitate to say yes, helping you get off of the counter and put your clothes back on, his lips back on yours before you could even leave the kitchen. And he felt on top of the world passing by the man you had hit on later, his hand in yours, and his cum deep inside of your cunt, probably dripping inside of your pretty lacy panties right now. You were all his, at least for the night.

“- Morning Junnie.”

Hyeongjun turned around, a pan filled with some freshly cooked pancakes still in his hands. He placed it down on the counter before looking up at you. And his heart surely skipped a beat at seeing you in the same graphic shirt he had worn last night, your thighs peeking out from underneath the piece of clothing and indicating that you were probably only wearing your panties and no shorts. Hyeongjun gulped down as he tried to not let some of the memories of last night disrupt his thoughts again.

“- Morning pretty. Did you sleep well ?”

You tiptoed to him, landing a sweet kiss on his cheek before you sat down at one of the stools of the counter to eat the breakfast he prepared for the two of you - though that was an excuse to keep his mind busy from thinking about you and the words you had said.

“- Very, though I don’t really remember how we got here without getting lost. Thank you for all of that, you didn’t have to.

- Yeah, we were pretty drunk. And don’t worry about that, I figured that you would probably be hungry. There’s some painkillers here too if your head hurts.

- You’re an angel Hyeongjun, thank you !”

You smiled up at him despite your headache getting stronger by the seconds. You gladly took the pills and then got to your delicious breakfast, recounting to your best friend every funny or random thing that happened yesterday. But you carefully avoided the only thing that needed to be addressed, carefully avoided the subject. You were too anxious to tell him anything in case he had forgotten it had happened because of the alcohol, because you didn’t even know if you really told him you loved him or if it was only a dream.

And Hyeongjun was too nervous to ask you anything about it either. Maybe the reason you weren’t talking about it was because you were regretting it, maybe it happened only because you were really drunk and that you would’ve never done it in your right state of mind. Either way, Hyeongjun didn’t want to know, he just wanted to believe that everything was true for a few moments, even if it hurt to know that nothing you had said was meaningful.

“- I’m gonna go, the boys are practicing this afternoon and I want to take a shower and take a nap before going.

- Yeah, of course. Thank you again for the breakfast, and for watching over me.

- You know I’ll always be right here, Y/N.”

You nodded and closed your eyes as Hyeongjun bent down to kiss your forehead. It was too intimate for two best friends, but it won’t make such a difference with what you had done before. So you simply let him, and you watched him go away with a heavy heart. Maybe that in the end, you regretted what happened a little - it would be so much harder to forget about him now, to try and ignore your feelings when you knew how it felt to be loved by him, to wake up to him cooking in your kitchen. You took a deep breath, only to be met with the scent of him as you were still wearing his shirt, and it made it all hurt even more. The fact that Hyeongjun didn’t even try to mention what happened the other night, that he didn’t even try to know if you said the truth, all of that was enough for you to understand that he didn’t feel the same. Of course he didn’t feel the same.

Your theory seemed to be confirmed by the fact that Hyeongjun rarely answered to your texts anymore. It pained you to see him slowly slipping through your fingers, your friendship breaking apart piece by piece only because you were unable to control yourself. You were the only one to blame for everything that happened - you told him he was pretty and kissed him first. Hyeongjun probably just wanted to have a good time, and here you were, dreaming of more, dreaming of being his girlfriend when you knew it would stay what it was ; a dream.

You looked at your phone one more time, desperately waiting for an answer to your offer to have a movie night at yours tonight. But Hyeongjun stayed silent this time too, the amount of messages he had never answered piling up and surely making you look a bit pathetic. Still, you decided to go buy some things for tonight - he was not going to ruin your plans. So you grabbed your headphones and put on your shoes to go to the grocery store down your street. You took everything that seemed sugary and unhealthy enough to drown your sorrow, not resisting the urge to take home a bag of Hyeongjun’s favorite chips.

The music playing in your headphones was joyful, hoping that it would cheer you up a little. You were going to watch your favorite film too for the hundredth time, even if you knew it by heart now, because you just needed some comfortings things to push back all these feelings that weighed on your heart. But as you stepped out of the elevator, you almost jumped out of fear when you saw Hyeongjun waiting for you at the door. He seemed tired, his eyebags way more bigger than usual and his normally soft hair were all messy. His gaze crossed yours and for a moment, it felt like time stopped. You slid your headphones off, the music still quietly playing as a background noise as you slowly got closer to the door.

“- What are you doing here ?”

Your tone was harsher than you wanted it to be, but the raw emotions of your voice couldn’t be hidden. You both knew that the movie night was not the real reason Hyeongjun was here, he could’ve just ignored you or said yes, he would’ve never come directly to your place without warning you if it wasn’t urgent. But seeing how disheveled he was and how he obviously didn’t pay much attention to the way he was dressed, it seemed like his decision had been impulsive and not so well thought.

“- I… “

It was painful to hear his voice cracking on a single word, and even more to see his eyes well up with tears. You tried to swallow the knot forming in your throat, tried to get over the bad feeling you had, tried to not think about how this seemed like a goodbye - a forever one.

“- If you have nothing to say, then I’m going. I’ve got things to do.”

It was a lie, and you both knew it. But you had to find a way out of this, a way out of this whole situation, a way out of the end of your friendship. Even if it stayed like that - you sending texts that he never replied to - you didn’t want that to be the end. You walked past him, almost reaching for the door when Hyeongjun grabbed your arm, the contact of his skin against yours felt like fireworks exploding everywhere, breath knocked out of your lungs for a few seconds. You turned around, facing him and really looking at him for the first time since you found him at your doorstep.

“- I think we should keep our distance for a while.”

You thought you were ready to hear it, thought you had repeated the scenario in your head enough times to not feel anything when he would finally say it out loud. But it still hurt, cutting down in places only he had found his way to. And you could do nothing about it because it was all your fault.

“- It’s… I understand Hyeongjun. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with all I said and did, it wasn’t my intention at all.

- I know.”

You dived in his eyes once again, and this time, you stayed like that for a long time, or maybe not. You didn’t know. But his gaze made butterflies come alive in your stomach, only to kill them the next second because of the sad smile stretching out his lips.

“- Can we still be friends ? I really don’t want to lose you…”

Your voice was definitely quivering, your eyes glossier than usual. And Hyeongjun could see it, could feel it. It was hard for him to do that. Hurting you was never what he wanted, but he couldn’t go on like that, couldn’t sleep with you as if he felt nothing more. It was too much. Right now, he felt miserable, he felt like he was doing a mistake even if it was to protect himself, it still felt wrong. Because he loved you, because he had always loved you.

“- I never wanted to be your friend in the first place, but you never saw that. It’s too late now…”

Slowly, his words made their way into your mind. Slowly, your eyes grew wider. Slowly, you realized what he meant. Hyeongjun thought he would feel better after having told you this, but no. No. All it did was make him regret never trying to hit on you when he had first met you, all it did was making him regret not listening to Jiseok’s advice and not trying to ask you out on a date before he got categorized as your best friend. He could’ve done so much better, and now he not only broke his own heart but also yours because he was an idiot.

“- You’re an idiot.”

At least, you were agreeing with him on this, and Hyeongjun was ready to express his approval when you continued.

“- You’re an idiot if you think there wasn’t any meaning behind everything that we did. I actually wanted to ask you out when Gunil introduced us, but he told me that it was better if I approached you slowly. And after that, it was always so platonic between us, I never thought you would be interested in me…”

Hyeongjun took a step closer, tears filling up his eyes again, but this time, he didn’t stop them from rolling down his cheeks.

“- How could I not be interested in you ? I don’t think you realize how bright you’re shining, Y/N. You’re amazing, talented, fantastic. You make everyone and everything better. You made me a better person, you’ve always been here for me, you’re the most important person in my life. And I know I’m not the best at showing it, but god, I love you so much that sometimes it hurts.

- I love you too Junnie, I love you so much…”

When Hyeongjun cupped your face in between his hands, swiping his thumbs across your cheeks to wipe off the tears, your smile brought one to his face too.

“- We’re both idiots.”

You giggled and Hyeongjun felt like colors were brighter, like he could hear sounds clearer. He didn’t lie when he said that you made everything better, because for him you really did. You were smiling so much that when he leaned down to kiss your lips, it was almost impossible, the two of you chuckling like lovesick fools. And now, you could say that you were.

“- I really love you.”

If you weren’t still standing in the hallway of your building, Hyeongjun could’ve asked you to repeat the words again and again, until he was sick of it. But instead, he kissed you again.

“- So what about this movie night ? Is the offer still on the table ?

- More than ever.”

You were still smiling as you unlocked the door of your apartment, and you were still smiling when you settled on the couch with him, and you were still smiling when Hyeongjun’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you towards him so you could cuddle while watching the film. Though, it quickly only served as background noise when you started kissing his neck up and down. Hyeongjun really wanted to stay focused, he really wanted to not mess up your first date, if it could be considered a date. But his eyes fluttered shut against his will, his whole body relaxing against the couch.

“- Y/N…

- Want me to stop ?

- No.”

You chuckled at how breathless he already seemed, but you couldn’t blame him - if he sneaked his hand in your panties right now, he would be met with a sticky mess. You pushed back the blanket covering your legs, allowing you to straddle Hyeongjun’s lap. You made yourself comfortable before going back to his neck, this time adding your tongue to the mix. The thought of him being finally yours was driving you crazy, and you wanted to claim him in some ways, show off to the world that he was your boyfriend and no one else’s. The moan he let out when you sucked the first mark right under his jaw made you want to give him the world, your hips rolling against his uncontrollably. His hands flew to your hips, helping you move against him as you actively covered his whole neck in hickeys and bite marks, relishing in the noises he made.

“- You’re so fucking pretty like this… All mine.”

Hyeongjun didn’t know if it was your nails gently grazing against his marked skin or your words that made him shiver and sent a new wave of arousal coursing through his veins, but either way, he liked it, liked it so much.

“- Please, let me make it up to you pretty. Let me spoil you.”

Actually, he was just craving to taste you, had been since the first time you kissed him. But the other part was true too - he wanted to please you so badly, show you how good he could be for you. You quickly nodded, letting Hyeongjun get down on his knees as you sat in his place on the couch. You let him part your legs and strip you off of your shorts and underwear all at once. You let him roam around the plush skin of your thighs and take a hold of your waist once again, pulling you closer to the edge of the couch, closer to his face.

“- So gorgeous, you’re perfect.”

Heat rose to your cheeks with the way he was intensely staring at your glistening folds. But soon enough, the shame was gone when Hyeongjun buried his head in between your thighs, tongue circling your clit skillfully. He was going to be the death of you for sure, but you weren’t mad about it. As he licked at your folds like a starved man, you took a hold of his hair, slightly tugging on it to ground yourself in reality. Hyeongjun moaned lowly against your pussy, the vibration feeling way too good for you not to let out a sound, for you not to praise him.

“- Taste so good, I could eat you for hours.

- You’re so good Junnie, I’m feeling so good…”

He hummed against you, sending another thrill of arousal through your body and you threw your head back when you felt his tongue pushing past your walls, his nose repeatedly bumping against your bundle of nerves. You couldn’t help your thighs from trembling and closing around his head when you felt your orgasm approaching, but Hyeongjun didn’t do anything about it because he could die happy being smothered by your legs, his noises increasing along with yours.

“- I’m gonna cum, oh my god ! I’m cumming !”

You cried out his name when the knot in your stomach finally snapped, your whole body shaking as Hyeongjun did his best to hold you down and still lick you clean, prolonging your climax for as long as possible before you started squirming away from him out of overstimulation. The faint smirk on his face as he got up to kiss you, his chin and lips still covered in your juices was too hot for you to ignore. Your tongues danced together, his hands slipping under your tank top to squeeze your breast while yours slid under the hem of his oversized shirt to feel up his waist. And it all felt so good, so messy, so intimate, so passionate. You never wanted him to stop. Unfortunately, you still had to breathe, forcing you to separate from his mouth. Though you took it as a chance to get rid of your top, Hyeongjun followed along and threw his shirt away too. Your hands immediately went down to his pants, helping him get out of his jeans and underwear, discarding the pieces of clothing on the floor.

“- I need you so bad…

- Need you too pretty, you’re making me go crazy.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine as Hyeongjun pushed you to lay down on the couch, the way he was praising you was definitely doing things to you. However, you didn’t think this through too much, busy grinding against him, busy making out with him.

“- Please, Junnie…”

He never thought he would hear you beg like that for him one day, and Hyeongjun felt like the luckiest man alive when he lined up with your cunt and slowly buried himself inside of your cunt. His head immediately dropped to the crook of your neck, trying to hide his loud moan as he bottomed out.

“- You feel so good, Y/N, so wet… S-Shit… Never felt this good…”

His words were muffled by the way he was pressed against the side of your throat, but they still made another wave of arousal crash over you, rolling your hips against his to entice him into moving, a whine falling out of your lips as you did so.

“- Please, move…”

The loud moan you let out mingled with Hyeongjun's sounds when he experimentally drove his cock into you. And soon enough, he wasn’t able to control the rhythm of his thrusts anymore, one hand gripping your waist as the other was holding your leg up in the air, allowing him to move freely and to hit your sweet spot every time. Your voices were laced in a sinful symphony as Hyeongjun pressed his whole body into yours, a thin layer of sweat covering the both of you.

“- I’m not gonna last, pretty… Are you close ?

- So close, baby, just need a little more…”

Hyeongjun switched the angle of his hips so that his pelvis faintly brushed against your clit with each one of his thrusts, your whimpers getting more high pitched as he did so. Your nails dug in his shoulders as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, feeling his hot breath against your neck and hearing his moans making you clench around him tighter. It was like your hips had a mind of their own, lifting up to meet Hyeongjun’s thrusts and bringing the both of you to your orgasms. You didn’t even register the fact that you scratched down his back, too lost in the feeling of his cum filling you up. But it only made Hyeongjun’s release even more intense. And the fucked out look on your face as he lifted his head from your neck was just a plus. You slowly got down off your high, still trying to catch your breath, as he pushed away some strands of your that stuck to your face.

“- You’re so beautiful.”

The sincerity pouring from his words made your heart flutter, and a grin took over your features as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to keep him close to you a little longer. Later that night, when you were all cleaned up and snuggled in his shirt, comfortably laying in your bed, a thought suddenly came into your mind.

“- Were you really going to let me go like that ?”

Hyeongjun looked at you for a moment, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the exposed skin of your arms.

“- I don’t know. I just felt trapped, and hurt. But it doesn’t matter now. You’re right here with me, and that’s enough for me.

- I really love you Hyeongjun, I hope you know that.”

He smiled, that beautiful smile of his that inevitably brought a smile to your own lips. The sweet kiss he gave you before pulling you closer to him made your heart skip a beat again, and you didn’t know if you would get used to it one day - the way Hyeongjun was able to make you blush with only a few words.

“- I love you too, you’re all I ever wanted.”

And that was perfect since he was all you ever wanted too.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

-> moon dividers by @samspenandsword

#xdinary heroes x reader #xdh x reader #xdinary heroes smut #xdh smut #xdinary heroes fic #xdh fic #junhan x reader #han hyeongjun x reader #hyeongjun x reader #junhan smut #han hyeongjun smut #hyeongjun smut #eli: right here

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anniflamma · 21 days ago

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Hey Anni,

you have intrigued me on your Daniel/Darius obsession and I would like to know if there’s anything I can read or where I can find art and such to fuel my obsession .

PS: hope you have a wonderful amazing day and you are perfect

Well… When I started making art of them, I PROMISE I was the only one here. But recently, I’ve gotten some fanfics!

We have 2 fics by Sir Carebearalot!

This one is ongoing!

aaaand a ongoing fic that only have 1 chapter out by Bae Synder!

If you like musicals, we have the Daniel Musical by Sight & Sound Theatres! Here’s a playlist! Its really good!

If you want to lose brain cells, then I recommend Daniel and the Lions by Liken the Scriptures. It’s the cheesiest, dumbest thing ever. Darius has a song about how he needs therapy. Mood. The lions have two songs. One where they’re horny, totally wanting to eat Daniel and his "tasty thighs," purring and nya-ing. I hate it so much. I can’t help but imagine Daniel sitting there, uncomfortable af. Then the second lion song is about how they’ve become vegetarians. There’s also a duet between Daniel and Darius, singing about God, but they never actually say it’s God, only referring to "Him." So, we end up with an ironically romantic ballad between two dudes, with a melody that is totally not ripped from You Raise Me Up.

youtube

There’s also a podcast called Bible Bash by Liam Michael Hooper and Don Durham. They have two episodes talking about Daniel, not really about Daniel and Darius, but more focused on the identity of being a eunuch and how it fits under the LGBTQ+ umbrella. It’s a pretty cool podcast! You can also scroll though my Daniel/Darius tag. Its filled with art and post of me babbling about head canons, reblog other ppl's fanarts and asks!

#asks #daniel/darius #daniel and darius #daniel musical #daniel and the lions musical #book of daniel #bible fandom #ao3 fanfic recs

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mrsholmesreid · 7 days ago

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ONE MORE CHRISTMAS, PLEASE | spencer reid x reader

summary: after your passing, spencer spends years suffering with the grief of your loss. on this christmas eve, though, something different happens. under a shooting star, he makes a wish he never imagined, not even in his wildest dreams, would come true. but it does, and he gets to have you for one more day before you're gone for good once again.

pairing: spencer reid x reader

word count: 10,2k

content warnings: angst, battling grief, mentions of drug abuse and withdrawal, brief mention of needles, brief mention of hurling, mention of failed su!cide attempt, unprotected penetrative sex.

author's note: despite the content warnings, i don't think this is a very heavy fic. it's mostly about grief and deep emotions, meant to stir longing within you and the pain of missing someone you love, but who isn't around anymore. this is my first ever published one shot, i hope you enjoy it! i write character.ai bots and this was based on a bot i wrote inspired by the song "another christmas missing you" by tors, and the fic was also inspired by "lover, you should've come over" by jeff buckley. here's the link to the bot:

check the ending to see some amazing fanart my friend cami (@/camiwhatuwant on twitter) drew for this story!!

playlist <3

i also made a playlist to go with this fic! 🥳

you can play it in order while you read, but if you don't like listening to music while reading, i suggest at least listening to the first song before starting to get in the mood or just listening to it whenever you need a good cry :)

The holidays were always the hardest. Spencer spent most of the year pushing through—lectures, cases, flights—losing himself in the quiet hum of his routines, but December always found the cracks in his armor. It was your season. Not his, or anybody else’s. Nothing ever bloomed as beautifully as you did during the holidays. It was like your soul had a special link to it, a connection way beyond this realm. There was something in the twinkling lights, the sound of carols, the scent of pine needles and cinnamon—that simply screamed you. Each one would later become a quiet reminiscence of your light, souvenirs from a long-lost love lingering like ghosts he couldn’t let go of.

You loved Christmas. Spencer used to think it was impossible for someone to be so full of joy over something so small. To him, this holiday never carried much meaning. His mom usually forgot to get him presents, and the colorful Christmas lights rarely ever lit his childhood living room. The warmth of this special shimmer—far from the literal aspect—was unknown to him. So, up until he met you, December was nothing but another month, piling up with all the others he had to drag himself through.

But you had a way of turning the mundane otherworldly. He could still picture the way your eyes lit up when the first snowflakes of the season fell, or the childlike glee in your voice as you took him to tree farms and Christmas markets. Your demeanor became so joyful, that he couldn’t help but think you looked even prettier under the blinking lights from the Christmas tree you decorated together. Like tattoos etched in his brain, each time he laid to rest, you were there—eyes boring into his own behind closed eyelids. Or so he wished.

You’d tease him for grumbling about the crowds and the too-cold-to-be-outside weather, but he always let you pull him along, secretly charmed by your enthusiasm. It didn’t matter what it was, if it was worth a smile on your face, Spencer would do it—no questions asked.

“Come on, Spence,” you laughed, tugging on his gloved hand. “Take a moment to feel it. Cherish this sensation, it’ll be over before you know it.” You stopped him in the middle of the park one afternoon, as you strolled through a thin cascade of delicate snowflakes. “You go on and on about your so-called ‘magic’ tricks, but you forget that the real magic lies here.” You took off his glove, the brisk air sharp against his skin, and placed his bare hand over your chest. The soothing rhythm of your beating heart—oh, how he missed that melody now,—thumped against his palm through the thick layers of fabric between you.

In that moment, your wide eyes glued to his, he felt it for the first time: the magic you were so zealous about, right beneath his fingertips. Your cold, pale hand suddenly felt warm against his own, and for a second, he believed you. Not because of the snow, or the whimsy, or the chirping of birds that he, only now—in the quiet of your bubble,—seemed to be aware of—no. It was because of you. You and the love he grew up believing didn’t exist outside of fairytales—and now, outside of you.

When you were looking at him like that, your cheeks flushed from the cold, your smile brighter than the lights strung overhead; there was not a single thing in the world he couldn’t do for you. Not a single word you could say that would change the heat creeping up in his chest.

I love you whispered in his veins, I love you with every beat of his heart, I love you strung all of the muscles contracting with his breathing. In and out, in and out, a never-ending cycle that once was his personal prison—but you showed him there was freedom within the litany. A lifetime of exhale after inhale—all this air he breathed, and yet there’d never be enough of your essence for him to capture. The very sound of his blood ran with a touch of you.

You were light, and life, and warmth; and Spencer had the blessing—a word he didn’t use very often, but your love was nothing short of divine—to have been yours.

Have been. Ouch. Past tense, that stings.

But then again, you were gone now.

Not even the holiest of prayers would bring you back to him, no matter how bright with deity was your soul. At the end of the day, your body was meat like all others. Being made of crushed little stars didn’t keep you from the harsh reality.

Mother Earth spares no one.

Every atom bathed in the sinful sanctity of your mist, like all others, must return to the ground, and the sky, and the very core of life itself—and you, of all people, could never be the one to cause imbalance to this perfect equilibrium. What pains the most is that the only path to such magnificent eternity is through death, and god help Spencer, but he couldn't keep you from it—no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he prayed.

It’s a selfish thought, he’s well aware of that. What could he, a being just as mortal as you, want from the beauty that is your body? And no, all of the lust-filled images he could fathom from that very sentence couldn’t be further from what he meant this time. This time.

The beauty in reference here goes way beyond what hungry eyes can see and eager hands can touch. It is heavenly, a beauty not to be seen, but felt with the heart. And that—well, that, wasn’t his to keep. However much he craved it. He’s always been a little greedy anyway.

Grief brought with it a flood of well-meaning platitudes, each one more infuriating than the last. Spencer had once heard someone say, “Good things perish so better things can flourish." What a cruel lie. Nothing could ever be better than you.

He had always prided himself on his ability to handle death. The sight of rotting bodies, though unsettling at first, became just another part of the job. Over time, he’d grown adept at compartmentalizing, studying the end of life with a detached curiosity that most couldn’t muster. Death was a process, a scientific inevitability, and he knew far more about it than he wished.

But now, that knowledge was a curse. The thought of microorganisms gnawing at your skin beneath a flower bed made him physically ill. The clinical detachment he’d once relied on had abandoned him, leaving only the unbearable truth: you were gone, and the earth was consuming what was left of you.

No one dies pretty.

Your turn seemed to be unfairly tragic, though. A stake to the gut so he could watch as all the light, life, and warmth that you carried and he worshipped, drained away, leaving your body limp—an empty shell of what once was the love of his life. No amount of scrubbing until his hands were raw to the bone would wash away the stain of your dry blood off of his skin. No time in prison, no death sentence, was enough to punish the man that did this to you, right before Spencer’s eyes. There weren’t enough new memories in a lifetime to erase the sight of your eyes blurring with eternal sleep.

Perhaps his opinion on this was a little biased, but how could it not be? The only times in his three decades of living he ever felt unapologetically loved, were when you were around. And now this? Can you blame him for wanting to do anything and everything it takes to have you back?

Well, actually, you can.

In the years you spent together, you pulled Spencer from the bottom of more pits than you could count. Through each high and each low, you held his hand and helped him past it. That’s why it hurt him even more when the familiar sting of a needle found its way back to his arm. It had been years since the last time he used it—but desperate times called for desperate measures. Right?

Wrong.

He only went through a couple of bottles before the shame overpowered the numbness and taking Dilaudid became no longer worth the knowledge that he was disappointing you, wherever you were. Withdrawal wasn’t half as bad as the first time, because now, he knew a pain far worse. He spent those weeks kneeling in his bathroom, switching from unconscious to barely there—the quick flashes of awareness used exclusively to beg for forgiveness and the occasional hurl.

He felt ashamed beyond redemption.

There was one night—right in the beginning—when the pain was so bad, he tried to join you. The fraction of his world left without you seemed no longer worth living in. He could swear that after the seventh pill, he almost felt the warmth of your arms around him, the color of your eyes in the back of his mind. Thankfully, his body knew better than to let him make the worst mistake he'd ever make, and he managed to reach his phone and call Hotch on speed dial. He didn’t remember much from that evening, but at the same time, it was impossible to forget about it—especially since no one on the team ever looked at him the same afterward.

It had been years now—years of learning to live with the you-shaped hole left behind in his life. Grief played its tricks, but for the most part, things were better. Over time, he managed not to cry himself to sleep every night. He managed to finally put your things in boxes in the basement—he wanted to keep them just the way you left them, but in one of JJ’s visits, she convinced him it was better to let go—and through the year, life went relatively smoothly. But December really was something else.

Spencer tried to honor you in little ways: putting up the tree, unboxing the ornaments you loved, whispering “Merry Christmas” to the silence. He told himself it was enough. It had to be. But his cup had been half empty for longer than he could remember, and that wasn’t about to change.

This year, though, the emptiness felt heavier. The tree stood half-decorated in the corner of the living room, its lights twinkling faintly—even they seemed sadder without you. It was Christmas Eve, and Spencer sat alone by the window, staring out at the dark winter sky. Snow fell softly, blanketing the world in quiet. His hands trembled as he held a mug of cocoa, untouched and lukewarm, the tiny marshmallows you always loved now drowning in the liquid. The sight made a tear stream down his face, but it wasn't enough to make him want to drink it. He settled the mug down to wipe the tears off of his eyes with quivering fingers. All seemed hopeless, the weight of knowing he was about to add another Christmas without you to his growing collection was heavy in his chest—until something lighting up the dark blue sky caught his attention.

Spencer was never one for superstition, but when he saw that shooting star streaking across the night, he broke. His voice cracked as he whispered, “Just one more Christmas. One day, please.”

It was all he could wish for at that moment. As selfish as it sounded to wish for you to spend one last Christmas with him, to take you from the peace of heaven—which he prayed every night to exist, despite not being religious, just for the hope of you being there—he couldn't help himself.

It wasn't like it mattered either way, it was just a shooting star. A pretty name for a meteor, a piece of space dust flying inside Earth's atmosphere and creating a tail of fire as it burned. It was beautiful in its own, realistic, way; but as Spencer got back inside to call it a night, his heart clenched at the idea of never getting to see you again.

When he woke up the next morning, the world felt different. Sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, bathing his bedroom in an unusual warmth for such a cold day. Then he saw a small snow globe you had gotten him as a gift on one of your trips, sitting next to a picture of the both of you on his nightstand. He had found it a couple of days ago when going through the ornaments and decided to put it there to decorate the bedroom. Then it hit him—

It was Christmas. He was barely thinking about that detail at that moment, but as soon as it settled in, his heart ached. Another Christmas missing you.

He had learned not to stay in bed mourning over the years of grief, so he pushed the bad thoughts away, mentally encouraging himself to find things to occupy his mind with for the day—which was bound to be long.

Then he turned—and his heart stopped.

You were there.

Lying beside him, wrapped in the sheets, your chest rose and fell with slow, peaceful breaths. Your hair spilled across the pillow, and Spencer forgot how to breathe. He stared at you for long moments, studying your blissful expression and how the air flowed in and out of your nostrils.

Impossible.

He was completely frozen in place. He had to be hallucinating, right? You were dead, buried six feet under. He saw the life leaving your eyes, for god's sake, he was replaying the memory in his mind right then and there. But still… you were there now, next to him. Unmistakable, as beautiful as ever.

Still in utter shock, he tried to speak, but his voice failed as he reached out with trembling hands, afraid to touch you—afraid you’d disappear beneath his fingertips.

You stirred, your face scrunching before a sleepy smile tugged at your lips. “Morning, Spence.”

The sound hit him like a punch.

“Pinch me.” He whispered.

“What?” You mumbled sleepily, rubbing your eyes.

“I said pinch me. Now, please.” His tone was serious, making you cave and reach forward.

Your fingers hesitantly curled tightly around the skin of his arm, eyebrows furrowed in confusion—but before you could process it, you were in his arms, listening to his sobs.

Tears slid down his face, soaking your hair as he held you in a warm embrace, clutching you like you might vanish. “You’re here,” he whispered, his voice breaking and his shoulders shaking. “You’re here.”

“I know,” you murmured softly, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Merry Christmas.”

He let out a soft chuckle, sniffing as he struggled to stop crying. “Merry Christmas.”

“Why are you crying, baby?” You pulled back just enough to look at his face, concern etched on your features. You wiped his tears away with your thumbs and he let out another chuckle that did nothing to quell your confusion.

Why was he crying? You were back. He could feel you in his arms, your scent in his nostrils, your lips on his skin. Somehow, miraculously, you were back. A myriad of thoughts ran through his brain. Had he died too? Was your death just a bad dream? It didn't make any sense, but at that moment, technicalities were his last concern. His dream had come true.

“I'm crying because you're here,” he muttered as if it were obvious.

Your eyebrows furrowed further and he could read the confusion in your eyes as they searched his face.

Then it hit him: the shooting star.

It all started clicking in his mind, and before he could say anything, you broke the thick silence.

“What's going on?” you sounded concerned.

“You don't know, do you?” His voice was steady, but the tone betrayed the pain he felt.

“Know what?” you asked innocently.

His heart clenched at your naivety. He didn't want to tell you, yet he couldn't keep it from you either. Something about this was very wrong, but he didn't know on which end yet—yours or his.

With a swift motion, he stood from the bed and ran to the closet, making you gasp.

“Spencer, what's going on?” you sat up on the bed, but then he opened its doors. “Where are my things?” you asked at the sight of your side of the closet completely empty.

He turned to you, shoulders slumped.

“Something's going on,” he began, as if he had barely processed your question, going back to bed with his heart aching now that he knew it wasn't just a bad dream. You really were gone.

“Yeah, I can tell,” you added. “Care to explain?”

He inhaled deeply, bracing himself for what was about to come.

“I will… but I'm not sure either. Firstly, what do you remember?”

“’What do I remember?’ I don't know, Spencer!” You let out, your patience wearing thin.

“I mean, what's your last memory? The last thing that happened before you woke up now?” He held your hands, calming you down, but the worry in his eyes made you uneasy. As you tried to recall what happened the night before, your brain struggled to find the answer.

“I… I don't know…” you let out, searching your mind for something, anything, but didn't find it. “It's like… It's there somewhere, but I can't place it.”

He took another deep breath, squeezing your hands gently. He never thought he'd have to do this, actually sit down and explain everything to you. From the day of your death until the shooting star the night before, he tried to cover everything that happened, fighting against the knot in his chest as he relived each and every painful memory with your eyes staring into his.

Your face was unreadable. A mix of confusion and comprehension, pain and anger; flashed across your features. He couldn't pinpoint whether you believed him or not, and as the seconds after the last of his explanations ticked by, his heart stammered against his ribs.

“Are you okay?” he tried.

“Okay is a strong word. I'm… processing.” You muttered, avoiding his gaze, your hands cold against his.

“Do you believe me?” he whispered hesitantly.

“Yes,” you replied after a beat. “Yes, I do.”

He nodded, patiently waiting for when you were ready to talk about it.

“So we only have today? Then what?” your eyes finally met his.

“I don't know, I think so,” he replied, his gaze reassuring. “Listen, I didn't think it was actually gonna happen when I wished for that last night, or else—”

“Don't,” you interrupted him, reaching out for his arm, the touch making his skin shiver. “I'm glad you did.” A faint smile played on your lips.

You shared a long gaze, probably the deepest, most meaningful you ever had, and his eyes watered once more. The mere sight made you cry as well, and the unmistakable redness on your nose as the tears spilled from your eyes only made him cry harder. In the ocean the two of you filled together, there was pain, longing and somehow gratitude. Love. No matter the circumstance, you were together. That's all that truly mattered.

He chuckled softly as the two of you sat there, crying and holding hands, laughing softly at the absurdity of that moment.

“I love you,” he muttered between tears.

“I love you,” you replied in an instant, your voice cracking.

With one swift, messy motion, both of his hands reached for your face, cradling it carefully as he crashed his lips against yours. The saltiness of your tears mingled with each of your kisses, sloppy and filled with a bitter kind of yearning.

“No more tears,” you murmured against his lips as he rested his forehead against yours. “You have to promise me, no more tears.”

“Can't promise that,” he let out a humorless chuckle.

“No, but you can,” you insisted. “If we only have today, you must promise me. No. More. Tears. It goes both ways.” You gestured between the two of you.

After a couple of thoughtful moments, he took a deep breath and replied, “Deal. No more tears.”

Then his lips were on yours again, but this time, with a renewed sense of hunger.

It was as if that promise tied the darkness between you in a safe, securely tucked away from the present moment, where you finally had the liberty to lose yourselves in each other.

He pushed you back gently against the bed, his body hovering above yours as your lips moved together in perfect sync. Your tongues intertwined in a sensual dance, loving and enticing. He took your bottom lip between both of his own, sucking gently. The soothing motion made a soft gasp escape his lips, eliciting a smile from you.

Your hands explored and caressed his back with a reverent curiosity, and under your fingers, he felt safe. His skin shivered beneath your careful touch, and craved more of it. Suddenly, his clothes felt wrong, almost sinful to be blocking his skin from the wonders of your own.

“Need you now,” he muttered against you, his lips attached to the sensitive skin of your neck.

No further words were needed. His hands were under your shirt in no time, pulling and tugging at the fabric desperately. You didn't waste any time either, your fingers working expertly as you tossed his own across the room.

You were both more than used to it, the movements to this heated choreography memorized like second nature by now. And yet, it never felt so unknown.

As your bare bodies tangled beneath the soft sheets, the cold outside was long forgotten. The warmth of your skin seeped through Spencer's, only adding fire to his growing desire. His lips trailed messily across your neck and collarbone, occasionally drifting back to the safety of your mouth, making him uncomfortably aware of just how badly he missed this.

The taste of your skin on his tongue, the perfect hills and valleys his hands and lips traced along your curves—a landscape he'd never grow tired of. The scent of your hair, the soft gasps his ministrations begged to elicit from you, and the sweetness of his name spilling from your throat.

When your ankles crossed behind his back, he knew he was done. A low moan left his lips as he ground down against you, your hips moving in practiced synchrony, following each step of your choreography perfectly.

His eyes met yours, and in a second of shared understanding, he knew you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

The moment your bodies connected in the most intimate way possible, he was home. There was truly no other way to describe the sanctity of your warmth, the safety of your grip, other than home. A home he wished for so long to return to, finally back around him.

“Goddamnit, I missed this,” he let out almost involuntarily.

A soft gasp escaped your lips, one that made his entire body shiver. With slow, unhurried thrusts, he began moving within you. He could feel your body reacting to every movement of his, your eyes glued to each other's. It was like your souls became one in your little bubble of love.

Your nails dug into his back, little red half-moons left behind as a trail of your longing. The slight sting of pain only urged him on, his movements growing deeper and faster.

Your moans filled the room, a beautiful choir singing with his low groans and harmonized by the soft sounds of your coupling. Your breaths mingled in the small space between your faces, bare chests pressed together snuggly as you let yourselves be overtaken by the maddening friction between you. His face buried in the crook of your neck, and as he made love to you, all that crossed his mind was how lucky he was for having you. Right then and there, he couldn't find enough strength to care about the technicalities of this. He was home, for heaven’s sake. After years of not truly belonging anywhere. And he'd be damned if he didn't enjoy it to bits.

He could feel the familiar warmth coiling in his lower stomach, the pressure enough to fasten his pace—which didn't go unnoticed by you. He felt your legs tighten around him, your breaths growing faster and more shallow.

He knew you were close too. It was evident in your touch, written in the shimmer of your eyes.

“I can't get enough of you,” he admitted, small beads of sweat pooling on his forehead as he drove into you, each thrust deep and meaningful.

“You’re so cheesy,” you teased with a breathless chuckle.

“But I'm serious,” his eyes met yours, and even through the thick haze of desire, you saw the rawness in his statement. “I can't get enough of you. I take, and I take, but it's never enough. I need more of you, I need all of you.”

“You already have all of me,”

No, I don't.

The three words threatened to escape his lips, but he caught them before it was too late. The obvious silence that followed made it clear that you could hear even his unspoken words, read them through his eyes. For a moment, he could tell you had realized your slip-up, but he didn't care to point it out. The rhythm of his hips faltered for a second, but he quickly picked it up again, averting his gaze from yours as he struggled not to cry.

“Hey,” you whispered, making him look back at you with reddened eyes. “No more tears.”

The echoed promise was like an anchor, pulling him back to the present moment and making him focus on the heat in his core. No more tears.

He leaned in and captured your lips again, swallowing the heaviness that had formed between you until the only thing left was love. His hands squeezed your hips tightly, the kneading of soft skin an anchor to the present, grounding him back to you—and in that moment, he knew: that was what he was put on earth to do. To love you.

Your tongues battled for dominance as your hips moved together desperately. He angled his thrusts, determined to hit that special spot inside you every time, needing to make you see stars. You moaned his name, and it went straight to his crotch. He groaned against the shell of your ear, his movements becoming harder and more needy. He was close. Agonizingly close. His eyes sought yours and found his desire mirrored in them, your lips slightly parted as you struggled to hold back.

Bring me home, whispered with each slap of your skin, pull me closer, his body begged with every in-and-out movement. He didn't want to leave, not just yet, but the pressure in his lower abdomen was overwhelming. Knots tied together pleaded to be undone, and he couldn't help but want to give in. His hand reached between your bodies to rub tight circles around your most sensitive spot, set on bringing you with him. Your soft moans became louder, the sounds like music to his ears for now he knew he had you with him.

Your legs trembled slightly around his waist, letting him know exactly what he had to do. With the last of his strength, he continued driving deep into you, his thrusts growing faster by the second and bringing both of you impossibly closer to the edge. His rhythm was clear and purposeful, back and forth then back again until he felt you unravel in his arms. Flowers blossomed in your core as you came undone, the soft brushing of the petals against his skin enough to tear him apart. He found shelter deep inside you, burying himself as close as humanly possible as he met the peak of bliss within your heat.

Home. He was home.

His chest crashed down on top of yours, your bodies tangled and limp against the mattress. You struggled to catch your breaths, minds still hazy with ecstasy.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you,” you muttered back, and it was like the world wouldn’t be complete without those three words coming from your lips. He’d waited years for that sound—years of whispering it to the silence and falling apart with the void left without the echo of your voice after his. But now you were there, saying it to him, and that’s all he could think about.

Soon after, you were padding down the hallway toward the kitchen in one of his shirts. He followed right behind you, watching every step you took.

“You kept the pictures,” you mentioned, pointing at the frames in the hallway, all filled with pictures of the both of you.

“JJ helped me take them down once, but I put them back up,” he explained quietly.

“It's not fair to you,” you added.

“That's what she said.” His voice was steady as if trying to end the subject. He already knew what you were going to say. That he deserved to move on and be happy, find somebody else and leave you in the past. He didn't want to hear that now—or ever if he was being honest.

“I want you to be happy without me,” you insisted.

He let out a soft scoff, “I know you do.”

“Well, are you?”

The words hung heavy in the air between you. You turned back to look into his eyes, but he was quiet. He didn't need to say anything, you already knew the answer. He could see it in your eyes, though, the whirlwind of words you wanted to say but didn't. You knew they were useless.

“I'm sorry,” you broke the silence.

“It's not your fault.”

“I know,” you replied in a heartbeat. “But I'm still sorry. And I wish I could change things.”

He took a deep breath, pondering what to say, but nothing felt right. “No more tears, right?”

“Right,” you nodded, averting your gaze and trying to ease the atmosphere.”No more tears.”

He followed behind as you continued your way to the kitchen, separated by a counter from the living room. Everything looked the same as you remembered—the plates were still organized on the corner shelf the way Spencer always insisted on doing, and the cups were carefully aligned on the cupboard. One thing was out of place, though. There was a mug on the table near the window, something he never left behind.

“What's this?” you asked, curiously stepping closer and taking it in your hand.

“Oh, that's just, uhm—”

“Hot chocolate,” you interrupted. “You don't drink hot chocolate. Or marshmallows.” You said, stirring the now cold liquid and mushy little white marshmallows, soaked and melting from being left there, untouched for too long.

“Yeah, but you do,” he said. “I made your recipe last night since I never admitted to trying it.”

“But you didn't drink it?” You asked.

He was quiet for a moment before replying. “Didn't feel like it,” he simply shrugged.

You stared at him then turned to the sink to pour it down the drain.

“What are you doing?” He asked, confused.

“I'm making you the real thing. You clearly added too much cocoa powder, that was undrinkable.” You replied with a plainness that made a shy smile appear on his lips.

“Yeah… too much cocoa,” he sighed, admiring the way you walked around the kitchen gathering items to make him the beverage.

“What are you doing just standing there? Go grab the cinnamon,” you said, already mixing up ingredients.

“Right, of course,” he straightened up with a smile, quickly obeying and grabbing the cinnamon to help you.

You two moved about the kitchen in a quiet, domestic dance. Handing each other ingredients, standing by the stove together with his arms around your waist as you stirred the pot—it felt so natural, it almost made him forget you weren’t truly there.

He could feel you, yes, the taste of your skin on his lips when he pressed a kiss to your shoulder blurred his senses; but you weren't truly there. You were like an idea he wished he could bring to life, not just for a day, but forever. He needed you forever.

You sat on the couch, your legs draped over his lap, hands clutching a warm mug of hot chocolate. He stared at you as you took a sip, quietly amazed by the way you blew on the liquid not to burn your mouth.

“You're not gonna try it? I came back from the dead to make you some of my delicious hot chocolate and you're not even gonna try it?” You joked, noticing the way his eyes were glued to your every move.

Stolen from his musings, he lets out a soft chuckle. “Of course I will try it. Can't a man enjoy the view for a moment?” He teased back, looking down at his own mug.

You watched as he brought the rim to his lips, carefully sipping on it and savoring the taste on his tongue. “So? Is it good?” You asked eagerly.

He took a deep breath before saying, “It's good.”

You leaned in when he smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his lips, “Told ‘ya.”

He blushed, meeting your eyes with a soft gaze. He lost himself in them for a moment, drowning in the color of your irises and the depth of your wide pupils taking him in. He looked at you like he wanted to memorize it—as if he hadn’t already. That tone, that specific shade so uniquely yours, was his favorite color—and he missed it more than he could have expected.

“Does it bother you?” He broke the comfortable silence as you nursed on your mug.

“Does what bother me?” You asked, eyebrows frowning slightly with curiosity.

“That there isn’t an afterlife. That you simply didn’t exist when you were… you know,” he added awkwardly.

“Oh,” you let out, not expecting that question. “I don’t know, Spence. I didn’t even know I was dead before waking up next to you today. Maybe if it weren’t for that shooting star, I never would have known. I think maybe it was like sleeping, but then again, I can’t be sure.” You searched your brain for a better answer, but there really wasn’t one. He could see right through you.

“Don’t you wish there was a heaven? I prayed every night for heaven to exist, just for you to be there,” he admitted quietly.

Your eyes softened at his admission, your gaze averting for a moment as you thought about his words. Not that you needed to, though, the answer was right on your lips already.

“No,” you said without hesitation. “Even if there was something like that, it wouldn’t be heaven. Not without you.”

His heart sank at your words, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. If asked this question, he knew his answer would be the same.

You shared that moment for long minutes, sipping on your hot chocolate. He told you about his job and his friends, about his mom and his trips to Las Vegas, about his newest favorite books and spots to read. You listened intently, enchanted by the way his lips moved and how passionately he spoke about his interests. He loved it—being under your admiring gaze.

The quiet warmth of the moment gave way to an idea. Spencer stood, gently pushing your legs off his lap and offering you his hand. “Come on,” he said softly, a smile tugging at his lips. “Let’s go outside.”

You raised an eyebrow but took his hand without question. Moments later, you were bundled up in warm coats, stepping into the crisp air of the backyard. Snow blanketed the ground, shimmering under the faint winter sun. The world felt still, as if time itself had paused to make room for this fleeting miracle.

Spencer watched as you took a few steps into the snow, your breath visible in the chill. You tilted your head back, eyes closed, letting the delicate flakes fall onto your skin. He stood frozen, his heart aching at the sight. You were alive, somehow—more alive than he’d ever seen you.

“I missed this,” you murmured, turning to him with a wistful smile. “Snow always felt like magic to me. Like each flake carried a tiny piece of the universe’s secrets.”

He smiled, though his chest tightened. You always spoke like that, weaving poetry into the mundane, seeing beauty where others saw nothing. He never realized how much he needed that until it was gone.

As you wandered, something caught your eye near the edge of the yard—a patch of wildflowers poking through the snow, defying the season. You crouched down, carefully plucking a few stems. “Look at these, Spence. They’re still blooming.”

He joined you, kneeling in the snow as you began weaving the flowers together with deft fingers. “How do they survive in this cold?” you mused aloud, your tone soft and full of wonder.

“Maybe they’re like you,” he replied quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “Something too beautiful, too stubborn, to be snuffed out.”

You paused, your fingers stilling on the flower crown you were building as his words settled between you. Slowly, you looked up, your eyes meeting his. No more tears. But this time, the promise was harder to hold onto. Spencer felt the weight of his words but didn't press you to say anything. Your smile was more than necessary.

You swallowed hard as you finished your creation. “Hold still,” you whispered, leaning toward him. Gently, you placed the crown on his head, shifting it until it sat just right above his messy curls. “There. Perfect.”

He chuckled softly, the sound catching in his throat. “A flower crown? Really?”

The snow fell quietly around you, a fragile peace settling over the moment. You adjusted the garment on Spencer’s head, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Mhm. And you look ridiculous,” you teased, your voice light but warm.

He huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “I think you just wanted an excuse to make me wear this.”

“Maybe,” you admitted, tilting your head to study him. “But it suits you.”

Spencer’s smile softened, his eyes tracing your face. “You always do that,” he murmured.

“Do what?”

“Make the smallest things feel… infinite,” he said, his voice catching slightly. “Like this moment will last forever… you always find a way to do it, even now—even when…”

You reached out, placing a hand on his wrist. “Don’t,” you said gently. “Not today.”

He hesitated, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “It’s hard not to think about it.”

“I know,” you replied, your voice steady. “But we promised, remember? No more tears.”

“No more tears,” he echoed, though his voice wavered.

Your breath hitched, and you looked down at your hands, twisting a stem of the leftover flowers between your fingers. “But it can, you know,” you continued quietly. “Last forever. If we let it.”

He tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “How?”

You reached out, your fingers brushing his cheek. “By holding onto it. By remembering it—not with sadness, but with love.”

Spencer closed his eyes at your touch, his voice soft and full of longing. “I don’t want to remember, though. I just want to stay here… with you.”

You smiled, though your chest ached. “Then let’s stay here. Just for now. Don’t think about what comes next for a minute. You’ll have forever to worry about that.”

He opened his eyes, and for a moment, it felt as though the rest of the world had disappeared. “You’re right. No more thinking about it now,” he whispered.

And for a while, the two of you simply sat there, wrapped in the quiet peace of the moment, the snow falling around you like a blessing from a world that had finally stopped spinning.

The afternoon unfolded like a dream, each moment sharper and more vivid than the last. Spencer couldn’t stop watching you, memorizing every detail—the way your laugh filled the air, the sparkle in your eyes as you teased him, the warmth of your hand in his. You played around in the yard, throwing snowballs at each other and laughing together. Those moments were fleeting but eternal at the same time, lasting far less than what Spencer wished they did. But he knew he’d have them in his heart forever.

Yet the weight of the looming evening seemed to get heavier by the second.

Both of you knew it was bound to happen. You couldn’t simply come back from the dead, life was never that simple. So despite the obvious hope Spencer had been feeding throughout the day, he knew it was unlikely for you to be back for longer than one day. Life had never been kind to him before, why would it start now?

This was typical Spencer Reid. Finally getting something really good only for it to be ripped from his hands.

You'd been leaning against the porch railing for some time already when the sun began to set. The quiet wasn’t awkward—it was heavy, filled with the weight of words unspoken, of feelings too big to contain.

Eventually, the cold began to seep through your layers, and Spencer noticed the way your shoulders trembled.

“I think it's time we go back inside,” you broke the silence, turning to face him. The flower crown still hung loosely over his head. You reached up to grab it with a smile on your face, fiddling with the small flowers between your fingers.

“You're right, it's getting too cold,” Spencer said, wrapping his arms around you, not wanting to leave this moment just yet. You set the crown on the railing to curl your hands over his arms that were crossed on your stomach. He leaned in close, his breath warm against your neck as he savored your scent.

Your eyes fluttered shut, relishing the sensation of having him close. A soft hum escaped your mouth, the gentle vibration trembling against Spencer's chest pressed on your back.

“We really should go, though, it's getting late,” you muttered quietly, though none of you made the effort to leave.

“Mhm,” he hummed in agreement, squeezing you tighter.

It was as unfair as unfairness could reach. He was sure, right then and there, that there was nothing in his existence that could feel more right than this—than you, in his arms. But the moment was slipping from his fingers like water, and he could feel it. He tried to grasp it. His hands tried to reach that water, to hold it and keep it to himself—desperately trying to make the feeling linger for a split second longer if it could. But it didn't.

One moment you were outside, and the next, you were inside again, the faint glow of the Christmas tree casting soft shadows on the walls. The night darkened the room through the windows, and it only made the realization that the day was almost over even heavier.

The living room felt warmer than it had that morning, as though the house itself had soaked up the joy and sorrow of the day. You sank onto the couch, pulling a blanket over your lap, and Spencer joined you, sitting close enough that your sides touched. Your head fell softly against his shoulder, the weight a comforting reminder that you were there—but also, not for long.

The Christmas tree lights blinked softly, almost sadly with the room's atmosphere, their rhythm hypnotic in a way. You stared at the ornaments, each one a tiny fragment of a life you used to know.

“It’s almost over,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Spencer turned to you, his expression pained. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true,” you said, your eyes fixed on the tree. “The day’s ending, and so is this. I can feel it.”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I don’t want it to end.”

“Neither do I,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “But we can’t stop it, Spence. We can only… hold onto what we have left.”

He reached for your hand, gripping it tightly as though he could anchor you here, as though his touch alone could defy the inevitable.

“I wish…” His voice cracked, and he looked away, blinking rapidly. “I wish I could have more time.”

You turned to him, your heart aching at the sight of his tear-filled eyes. “Spencer,” you said softly, cupping his face in your hands. “We had today. That’s more than most people ever get. We had this.”

“But it’s not enough,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “It’ll never be enough.”

You pulled him into your arms, holding him tightly as his body shook with silent sobs. “I know,” you said, your voice thick with tears. “It’s not enough for me, either.”

“I wish I could go back in time and wish to have you back forever, and not just for one day. Man, am I stupid,” he let out a humorless chuckle, the sound muffled against your hair. You chuckled back, wiping your eyes with the back of your hands.

“I wish I could go back in time and not leave in the first place.”

The way you admitted that stung like a knife in his chest. Suddenly, he was brought back to all the painful memories from the first months after your passing. The relapse, the withdrawal, the attempt… All of it ached as if the wound was fresh. He couldn’t say anything, he didn’t want you to know all that he went through trying to get over your death. You didn’t deserve to know it, not during your last moments with him. So he simply pressed his lips to your temple in a gentle, lingering kiss. He wished you hadn’t left in the first place either.

The two of you stayed like that for what felt like hours, clinging to each other as though you could merge into one being.

Eventually, Spencer shifted, pulling you into his lap. You curled into him, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His arms wrapped around you, holding you as though you were the most precious thing in the world.

The lights from the tree reflected in his eyes as he looked down at you, his fingers brushing through your hair. He noticed your red eyes as if you had been holding back tears for hours. “No more tears,” he whispered, though it was mostly to himself—he needed to be convinced, somehow, that crying at this moment was useless.

You smiled faintly, your eyes glistening. “No more tears,” you echoed.

But the promise was impossible to keep. The weight of the moment, the knowledge that this was fleeting, was too much. A tear slipped down your cheek, and he kissed it away, his lips warm against your skin.

“I love you,” he said, his voice breaking as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss on your lips.

“I love you too,” you replied, your voice steady despite the tears. “You did an awful job decorating the tree, by the way,” you chuckled softly, the sound muffled by your tears.

Spencer let out a breathy laugh, though it sounded more like a sob. “I’m not half as good at this as you. I use the same decorations you did, but my lack of talent makes me barely want to try.” He joked, but the words had a bitter flavor.

You tilted your head up to look at him, your smile sad but genuine. “Well, you’ll have to try harder next year. I’ll find a way to haunt you if you don’t.”

His face crumpled, and he pressed his forehead to yours, the laughter fading as the weight of your words sank in. Next year. The words hung in the air, a bittersweet hope neither of you dared to believe in. Next year. Next year you wouldn’t be there. Again.

And as the night deepened, the two of you sat by the tree, wrapped in each other’s arms, mourning the end of the day but cherishing the miracle of having had it at all. The world outside faded into darkness, but inside, beneath the glow of the Christmas lights, time seemed to stand still, holding you both in its tender grasp for just a little while longer.

The blinking lights of the tree cast soft patterns on the walls, the room dim and quiet except for the faint hum of the heater and the sound of your breaths mingling. He wanted to hold onto this—onto you—for as long as he could.

But Spencer knew it was useless to hold onto a moment that barely existed. Whatever this day had been, the miracle that was to have you in his arms again—even for just another heartbeat—was too good to be true. He knew it didn't matter how much he prayed, how much he begged the skies down on his knees. You'd never be back, not the way he needed you to. He could feel the way gratitude warred with downright bitterness in his chest.

Spencer could never hate anything responsible for bringing you—the light of his life—back, even if it were just for a day, but he'd be damned if he wasn't already blaming himself for the heightened pain of your absence that already began to stir within him. It was like the quick sample of what it was like to have you with him again made his already unbearable pain even worse.

But then your whisper broke the silence, soft and comforting, your voice trembling slightly, “Come to bed.”

Spencer hesitated, his arms tightening around you as though letting go, even for a moment, might break the fragile spell keeping you there. He knew what going to bed meant. He knew that going to bed would be officially saying goodbye to the last shred of you he'd ever grasp. Going to bed meant fully acknowledging the ending of this day—this perfect, painful day. But he nodded, his lips brushing against your temple. “Okay.” There was nowhere to run, and he didn’t want to make this any heavier on you.

He helped you to your feet, his hand gripping yours tightly as though afraid you might disappear too early if he let go. The walk to his bedroom was silent, the air thick with unspoken fears and lingering sadness.

You climbed into bed together, the sheets cool against your skin as Spencer pulled you close. He wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your hair, and you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Neither of you spoke, the silence filled with the weight of everything you couldn’t say. His fingers traced absent patterns on your back, and he clung to you like a lifeline, unwilling to let go.

“Spencer,” you whispered after a while, your voice barely audible.

“Yeah?” His voice was hoarse, thick with emotion.

“If I’m not here tomorrow…” You paused, your throat tightening. “I want you to promise me something.”

He stiffened, his arms tightening around you. “Don’t,” he whispered.

“Please,” you said, your voice breaking. “Promise me you’ll keep going. That you’ll let yourself be happy again. I know what we talked about earlier today, and I know it's not that simple. But please... Promise you'll try. Not for me, for you.”

He didn’t answer at first, his breath hitching as he tried to hold back the tears. He knew that was a promise he couldn't keep. Losing you—yet again—felt like a battle he could never win. He didn't want to lie to you, but the thought of waking up to an empty bed again, especially after what you lived that day, was a pain he could barely fathom—let alone expect to ever get over.

Yet he couldn’t help but consider it. The tone in your voice, the genuine pain in your eyes—it got to him. He needed this, despite not realizing it through the immense agony the idea of being left alone without you again brought him. He knew it was what you wanted for him, and deep down, it was what he wanted for himself as well. It would take a while to process it, but it was inevitable—he’d have to learn—because regardless of everything that happened, he could never regret meeting you, having you. Spencer knew that no matter how much suffering he went through, how many tears he shed because of you; if he could go back in time, he’d do it all over again without changing a single thing. Even if it meant reliving your loss, the aching your absence left behind, the dark places his mind stayed in for years… it also meant reliving the firsts, the kisses, the hugs, the love… and he’d never seen or felt anything more beautiful in his life.

Regardless of everything, having had you, however long for, had been his biggest blessing. His one true miracle. And for you, he’d do anything and everything. Even if meant going on without you, even if it meant getting over you. Having had the chance to taste your love was enough. It had to be.

Finally, he nodded, his voice trembling. “I promise.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his chest, right above his heart, your tears soaking into his shirt. “Thank you.”

The two of you lay there, clinging to each other as though you could freeze time, as though the night would never end. The question of whether you’d still be there in the morning loomed over you both, unspoken but ever-present. But for now, you had this moment, and being in each other's arms made itself enough to silence your fears for a handful of moments.

The seconds stretched on, but they were like a blanket that could never cover you both. Spencer could feel it slipping away along with your incoming slumber, but the moment you shared lingered, somehow. And neither of you was willing to let it go.

Before either of you could realize it, sleep overtook you. Tear-stained cheeks pressed closely, arms entangled as if their mere closeness could defy nature's rules and keep you there a little longer. Let your warmth remain forever tingling on his skin.

In his dreams, Spencer had you. It didn’t feel painful, though. All he felt was your love. It overwhelmed his finally resting mind. It had been years since he’d had dreams like that, dreams that felt like a balm to his aching soul instead of thorns coiling all around his chest. It was as if the dreams were there to ease his heart through your departure—and in a way, they did. His sleep was peaceful and undisturbed, unlike the rest of his day. It healed him in a way.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, pale and soft, casting an eerie stillness over the room and pulling him back to sensibility. Spencer’s eyes fluttered open slowly, his body surprisingly light despite the weight of sleep, but there was something else—an ache that gripped his chest. He reached out instinctively, but his hand met only the cold sheets beside him.

The bed was empty. The house was quiet.

You were gone.

For a moment, he lay still, hoping that you’d walk back in, your smile lighting up the room. But the silence stretched on, and he knew.

You weren't there, and you’d never be again.

He closed his eyes tightly, a sharp pang cutting through him as reality settled in. He missed the dreamland of sleep, where he was sheltered from the pain of reality and could only feel the light of your love. Of course you weren’t there. He’d known, deep down, that you wouldn’t be. The day before had been too perfect, too fleeting to be anything but a cruel dream.

Spencer lay there for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, his heart heavy and his throat tight. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to face the emptiness of the house without you. But then his phone buzzed on the nightstand, breaking the silence.

He reached for it with a trembling hand, his vision blurry as he read the message from Morgan:

["Merry Christmas, kid. I know this time of year is tough for you. I’ll swing by later to drop off your gift. Hang in there, alright?”]

Spencer sat up, frowning. Christmas? But… yesterday was Christmas… Wasn’t it? There was the shooting star on Christmas Eve, then he woke up with you the next morning and you spent Christmas day together, right? He stared at the message, confusion swirling in his mind.

If today was Christmas, then… when had you been here?

His heart raced as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, his mind replaying every moment of the day before. It had felt so real—your touch, your laughter, the way you’d smiled at him like nothing had ever changed. Too real to be a dream. Too dreamlike to be real.

He pushed himself off the bed and made his way down the hall, his steps slow and hesitant. The house was quiet, almost unbearably so, and the absence of your presence was palpable.

Confusion stirred within him, but at the same time, it felt only natural. He had to have dreamed it, it was grief playing tricks on him once again. But still… if it had been a dream, it was one like none other he’d ever had. One that messed up his concept of time and reality, making him pinch his skin softly, as a reminder and confirmation of his own existence.

He was there. You weren’t.

Spencer turned on the radio, needing something—anything—to fill the silence, to quell his racing mind. The soft, mournful strains of Lover, You Should’ve Come Over by Jeff Buckley filled the room, the lyrics cutting through him like a knife. He’d never been one to relate much to music. He’d learned it from you, the beauty of song. This time it felt like a curse, though, the relatability of the mellow lyrics burning in his chest.

"Maybe I'm too young

To keep good love from going wrong

But tonight you're on my mind

So... you'll never know

Broken down and hungry for your love

With no way to feed it

Where are you tonight?

Child, ya know how much I need it

Too young to hold on

And too old to just break free and run"

He sat by the window, watching the snow falling. The ache in his chest was different now—not the sharp, relentless pain of loss, but something softer, warmer. He could still feel your hand in his, still hear your laugh echoing in his mind. And as the song played, each lyric seeming like it was leaving from his own lips, each chord sounding like it was being played from his own heartstrings, the moment sank in.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad that it had all been a dream after all. Maybe it was exactly what he needed. But yet, the warmth of your presence loomed over him with a heaviness that felt nearly unnatural. You had really been there, one way or another. He was sure of it.

"So I'll wait for you, love

And I'll burn

Will I ever see your sweet return?"

He could feel you. Even now. He knew it wasn’t over—it would never be.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispered to the silence, a tear slipping down his cheek.

And somewhere, he knew you were whispering it back.

He sank into the couch, his head in his hands as the song played on, each word twisting the knife deeper.

"It's never over

My kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder

It's never over

All my riches for her smiles

When I've slept so soft against her

It's never over

All my blood for the sweetness of her laughter

It's never over

She is the tear that hangs inside my soul forever"

The tears came then, hot and unrelenting, as he mourned the loss of you all over again. Regardless of their newfound taste after the collection of memories he gathered with you, whether it was a dream or not, the bitterness in his tears remained unmistakable.

But then, through the blur of his grief, something caught his eye. He froze, his breath hitching as he turned toward the window.

There, like a mirage—a window to the unknown, a sight he’d never expected—sitting on the porch railing, was the flower crown you’d made during the day before. Just where you’d left it. The lines between dream and reality blurred, but Spencer didn’t question it. You had been there. And that was enough.

"Lover, you should've come over

'Cause it's not too late"

—————————————————————————————————

author's note 2: this is it!! i hope you guys enjoyed it, and thank you sooo much for reading it all the way! please share and let me know your thoughts on this :)

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fanart :)

check out these amazing fanarts my dear friend cami (@/camiwhatuwant on twitter) drew for this story!! i'm in love, they're so perfect <3

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thespookiestparker · 5 months ago

Text

The Price Of Freedom

A/N: hello everyone!! it feels very weird to be coming back to this blog with a new fic but I’ve been trying to put this together for months, I’ve finally torn myself away from the game for long enough to write about it lol enjoy!

p.s. I also made this playlist after I romanced him for the very first time and it was what I was listening to if you want some ✨mood music✨

Summary: Astarion struggles with his newfound livelihood now that he isn’t bound to Cazador

Pairing: Spawn!Astarion x GN!Tav

CW: Angst (That gets resolved), blood mention/description (kind of inevitable with a vampire but 🤷🏻‍♂️)

Over your time traveling with your newfound friends, you and Astarion had grown to be what you considered close. When everyone else had bedded down for the night, the two of you would more often than not find each other.

It had taken time, and you honestly weren’t sure it would happen. For a while, you were left to wonder if Astarion even liked anyone at camp, let alone you. Sometimes, he’d let things slip, though.

Like when you threw a pile of shit at that goblin’s face, he’d let out a soft chuckle. Short and sweet, something you’re sure he didn’t mean to set free, but he did nonetheless before the fighting had broken out. Or, a week later, when you’d started to catch him sneaking glances at you over the campfire as you spoke to Gale or Wyll. You could’ve sworn that a flash of jealousy flashed in his eyes from time to time, but you’d never tell him that you noticed. You didn’t want to embarrass him, even if he would never admit to feeling that kind of emotion.

It all came to a head at the party that was held at your camp with the tieflings from the emerald grove, when he’d asked to sneak away with you for the night for some ‘fun’. Something about him had seemed…off that night when you looked back on it. Astarion had seemed too composed for someone who’d been drinking. The vampire hadn’t said much about his past by then, other than that he’d had a master in Baldur’s Gate who had treated him like he was less than nothing. You could tell that pity wasn’t the answer here, that he would only take offense to something like that, so instead you showed him respect. He was a formidable ally, after all, you couldn’t afford to lose him, even if you hadn’t developed feelings for him.

Now, you were almost inseparable. Every time you fell in battle, he was the first to rush to help you up, and at first you weren’t sure if it was because he’d smelled your blood or if he was genuinely trying to help. That was, until you saw his eyes widen in a way you’d never seen before and only a few times since, vulnerable concern etched into his pale face. It made a pang of guilt explode in your chest that you’d ever thought any less of him.

Every day seemed to allow you to peel away at his prickly, impatient, and overall grumpy layers to get to the man beneath. The softer, more broken elf that had been hiding behind all these nearly impenetrable walls that he only seemed to let down around you, though it had been only partial to start. Even if someone else in the party was able to take a glimpse, you were slowly piecing together the whole picture.

Or at least, you thought you were.

It was the night before you were to reach Baldur’s Gate when the next one of those walls came crashing down around him, startling both of you.

You sought him out in the night, as you usually did, but when you peered into his tent, it was empty. Before you had time to process that, you heard his voice in the form of a deep growl behind you,

“What are you doing?”

Your body whipped around to face him, immediately noticing how he was towering over you. The blood on his chin glistened in the faint light of the moon, catching your gaze before his eyes of the same piercing red did.

You must’ve had a fearful look on your face because he seemed to snap back into his own mind, his expression going from a feral sort of anger to something akin to the familiar loving and vulnerable look you’d come to adore. But this was different. There was a deep sort of pain in his eyes, it made you instinctively extend your hand to him before he tore himself away.

“Don’t touch me.” he spat, his voice guarded and icy. He nearly pushed past you to get to his tent, to shroud himself in the familiarity of complete darkness and isolation.

“Astarion, wait—“ you tried, your hand hesitantly floating between the two of you as he angrily gripped the flap of his tent.

“Just. Leave me be. For tonight.” His voice was nothing more than a whisper just before he disappeared behind the red burlap of his tent.

The heaviness in your heart was devastating and cold, but you left him alone for now and decided to sit by the fire instead. Keeping watch over your sleeping friends as tears spilled silently over your cheeks.

All you could think about was comforting him, holding him in your arms until the pain seeped out of him in waves. But you weren’t about to go against his wishes, so instead you let your emotions run free until you fell asleep. You didn’t mention anything to the others in the morning, and you didn’t want them to notice. Astarion’s business was his own to share, not yours, so you weren’t going to let your emotions get in the way of that. He deserved privacy after all this time, you weren’t about to get in the way of that.

The next days distanced the two of you as your group explored the city. He seemed just as closed off as when you’d started your adventure, if not more, and you were afraid that nothing could get him to open up to you again. It seemed like the others may have noticed as well, though it wasn’t exactly a secret. The silence between the two of you was loud enough to be heard miles away.

“OOO! A circus! Can we go?!” Karlach squealed, gesturing to a sign that displayed a brightly colored poster for something called ‘The Circus of The Last Days’.

Maybe not everyone had noticed. No one else had said anything to contradict you, so you didn’t touch upon it.

“Sure, we can go.” You chuckle, trying your hardest to seem normal right now, for Astarion’s sake if not yours. You lead everyone into the circus, past the elf and the ghoul at the gate, and you all end up splitting off until it was just you and Astarion. You half expected him to distance himself from you again, since he’d seemed to need to be alone, but then his words from last night echoed in your mind.

“Just for tonight”

You weren’t sure why he’d suddenly wanted the distance, but you didn’t want to question it. He was well within his rights, but you couldn’t help the worry gnawing in your stomach that you were constantly pushing down.

All of it was interrupted when he slipped his hand in yours, a discreet maneuver that would’ve gone unnoticed by anyone looking at the two of you, before you felt him squeeze it. A wordless apology, which you happily accepted for now. You could talk later, for now, it felt safe to be enjoying the circus amidst the chaos that was your lives.

“Darling, do you think a statue of me would be too much for our little camp?” He asked, his normal smug confidence radiating from him as he posed next to a nearby tent. It was owned by a mud mephit and his wife, who were conveniently named Boney and Stoney, and advertised statues made of the likeness of any passersby willing to pay their price.

“It costs 5,000 gold!” You laughed, shaking your head at him as you tugged on his arm in a vain attempt to pull him away from said tent.

“So? Don’t you want something to immortalize my beauty for all of eternity?”

“I don’t need it, I already have you.”

The love and care you shower him with never ceased to take him off his guard, but he smiled regardless and continued on with you through the circus, enjoying the frivolous nature of the it all.

Days of traveling later, once your party had not only found Cazador, but made sure he was good and dead, you decided to at least attempt to breach the subject when he seemed to be more stable. Your relationship was so fragile that something this deep and painful could shatter it, which was exactly what you didn’t want.

That night, you found him just as you always did on nights like these, sitting by the dying fire as the rest of your friends headed to their separate corners of your dwelling for the night.

“May I join you?” You ask softly, gently touching his shoulder now that he’d been the first one to make physical contact earlier that day. You always let him take the lead on things like that because you wanted to let him be the one to make the choice of whether or not he wanted that kind of affection, knowing he had so little of his own autonomy for so many years. Even if he had expressed to you that it was becoming easier to differentiate you from those sorts of feelings.

“Of course, darling, always.” He responds in a similar tone, turning his head to look at you as you sat yourself beside him which made some of his stark white curls fall into his eyes.

“There have been times when you seemed to…” You pause, considering your wording for a moment, “...disagree with that statement.”

“That was different, I was…not myself.” He seemed almost disgusted by something, presumably something about himself or the way he acted last night.

“I’ve never seen you that way, it was almost like you were—”

“A vampire?” he interrupted, and you rest your hand over his where it lay on his knee,

“Someone else…You know that I see you for more than what you are. That I always have.”

“Regardless, I am lucky that you saw me in that state and not anyone else. I haven’t been that disheveled since I was first turned, and anyone else would only see a monster, which frustrates me all the more,” without letting you speak, he continued. Seeming to be fueled by the traumatizing anguish that lies within him, or at least some of it, “because it isn’t fair! I didn’t ask to be a monster! No one told me that I’d be cursed this way, and I regret not dying that night on the street—“ he exploded into a rage, though it was like the one you had seen the night he came back to camp. The same deeply seeded pain behind his eyes was ever present as he roared such hurtful words. He stood quickly, turning away from you as shame diffused from his being.

“Astarion…” You cried, holding out your hand for him only to see him flinch away. As if he was afraid you would hurt him, which made a burning pain spread through you emanating from your heart. It felt wrong, like you’d only made things worse without intending to. The tears that welled in your eyes came without your permission but you were helpless to do anything but keep them from falling.

“What?!” He whirled around to face you, his face spattered with tears. A level of distress and anger you hadn’t seen from him since Cazador’s passing. You’re suddenly reminded of the image that was him, kneeling over his former master’s lifeless body as he sobbed. Shirtless and covered in blood.

It had broken your heart to see him that way, but he’d needed that moment to let what had just happened wash over him. To finally be free.

You snapped back to reality when Astarion seemed to realize what he’d said, and how it had affected you as he roughly rubbed at his tear-stained cheeks.

“I…I don’t really think that way. This…all of this…has been… a bit much for me. Knowing that he forever changed me. That I’ll never truly have a chance to be something other than a monster in the eyes of most–”

You step forward, once again extending your hands but stopping just before you make contact with his skin to ask silent permission from him. He nodded with little to no hesitation, urging you on before you gently cupped his cheeks and continued to speak, “I don’t think that you’re a monster…You’ve said it yourself, you are so much more than he made you. I, for one, fully believe that. If you don’t believe it yourself right away, that’s more than alright, because I’ll be here to remind you. Every step of the way.”

He almost can’t look at you, more salty tears threatening to spill from his red and puffy eyes.

“I…don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to right now. All that you need to do right now is to rest. We both should.” You answer gently yet firmly, starting to pull your hands from his face before he grabbed one of your wrists.

“Don’t,” he started, an air of desperation in his words, “I…I haven’t been the kindest to you, and I apologize for that, but I don’t want to be alone. Please.” You hadn’t planned on leaving him, but usually touch was something that had made him uncomfortable so you were simply ending the contact even though he seemed to take it a different way.

“You won’t be alone…I’m here.” You reassure, moving your hand to his shoulder instead while letting him hold your wrist. “But I stand by my statement. Come on,” You lead him inside his own tent, bedding down with him for the first time since the night he’d come back to camp covered in something else’s blood, though it would be far from the last.

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