#they have such heart to hearts in this kitchen

[reignpage]

Bear Necessities

Synopsis: what life is like married to brown bear hybrid!Nanami Warnings: 18+ mdni, smutty, fluffy, cursing, established relationship, marriage, cunnilingus, blowjob, unprotected sex, baby fever, lactation kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, praise, dom!nanami, backshot, mention of fleshlight, sub!reader, possessiveness, threat of violence or harm, creampie, knotting, not proofread Word Count: 3.5k

Being married to Bear hybrid!Nanami means having to tip toe your entire relationship because he’s so tall. He does make the effort to hunch down for you, growling softly against your neck about how small and fragile his beautiful wife is. But he’s not always so nice. No, your Kento likes to tease, much to your chagrin.

“Sweetheart, I’ll be late for my morning class,” he remarks, peering at you over his glasses as you hold onto his shoulders for purchase, jumping to reach his face. “And you know I can’t possibly start my day without my morning kiss. You wouldn’t leave me waiting, would you?”

His words are sweet, always so sweet, but the way he’s pawing at your hips and dipping lower to squeeze your ass are nothing but. Lifting you up in one arm, he brings you face to face with his gentle grin, his pearly whites glinting in the morning sun. 

“Hi, darling,” he whispers.

Savouring his soft lips and feeling the soft bristles of his beard, you mutter, “I’ll miss you, Kenny.”

“I’ll miss you too, my darling love. But soon we’ll be away for hibernation, yes? And then you’ll have me all to yourself for months.”

“Dada!”

Kento laughs, a big smile taking over his face until his eyes are crinkling in the corner. With you still held up by one arm, he opens the other for your two cubs to jump onto him. Kenji, the eldest, climbs up his huge back, biting onto his father’s thick neck and growling in challenge. Whereas, Mio sits politely in his other arm, chubby hand petting his beard with wide eyes. 

“One of these days, we’ll all be too big to be carried like this, Kento,” you say with a sigh. 

The glimmer in his warm eyes melts your heart. “That day will never come, my love.”

“Yeah! Dada’s strong,” Kenji argues, to which his little sister agrees, nodding furiously.

“Alright, alright. Dada’s got to go to work, so let’s not hold him up any longer, okay?”

Shifting his tie into to place, you bid him farewell, the warmth of his body still imprinted on yours. He leaves you one last kiss against your forehead, eyes roving over his family, with his eldest puffing his chest out to say he’ll take over the big bear duties now. 

Satisfied, Kento is off to work and you jump on your kids, peppering kisses and attacking them with giggles. 

“Let’s go bake some cookies!”

Bear hybrid!Nanami isn’t always so mild-mannered. Though he isn’t quick to be riled up, there are, unfortunately, certain things that seem to trigger those prominent animalistic instincts. For example, he’s not particularly fond of the your neighbour. 

The single male is a husky who knocks on the door often, requesting sugar or dropping by gifts for the cubs. He’s completely harmless, if a little too bright and cheerful. In fact, you can tell he’s a good person, but that doesn’t matter for your husband. All males are a threat.

One evening, your neighbour knocks whilst Kento’s in the kitchen. Discussing the recent neighbourhood bake sale, you must have been gone far longer than your husband would have liked because he eventually appears behind you, impossibly taller and broader. 

He casts a shadow on you and on the husky who only grins cheekily. Winding a paw around your waist, he snaps his jaws together, flashing his canines. The message is clear: leave his territory now. Your neighbour retreats back, giving you one last wink before the door slams shut. 

Bear hybrid!Nanami buries his face in your neck, inhaling deeply in rapid succession, chest heaving as you’re pinned to the door. His hold on you is calculatedly light enough to not hurt but they do threaten to leave indentations should you attempt to push him away as he’s recollecting himself. 

This doesn’t very often; something about that husky sets him off. You can’t say you hate when he’s like this. How could you when he’s shoving a leg between yours and caging you in his arms?

He’s shuffling his entire body against yours, rubbing his scent as thoroughly as he can. His thigh presses roughly against your moistening core. Gravelly, he groans, “Who are you married to?”

“You.”

A paw urges your hips up and down on his leg, seeking that tantalising honey from your insides. Kento stops inhaling, only to lick up the length of your neck, marking you so that there would be no confusion as to whom you belong to. His sharp teeth scrape the skin in warning — it isn’t enough for the others to know you’re his mate, you must know that too. 

“Again.”

“I’m your wife. I’m yours, Ken.”

You cum just like that, shuddering against his burly chest, buried in his pecs. He rubs soothing circles in your back in apology for his aggressive behaviour. Without much regret in his voice, he admits, “I’m terribly sorry, darling. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do,” you mumble against his repenting lips, fingers pressing the wet streak that’s formed over his trousers. “I made a mess, sorry, Kenny.”

Glasses foggy and cheeks flushed, he shakes his head. “Nothing to apologise for, my love. You were, and are, nothing short of perfect. Always. Now, come. Let’s eat. The kids must be starving.”

Bear hybrid!Nanami goes through hyperphagia during the autumnal months, when the weather begins to become colder. He eats almost double his usual, consuming more berries and salmon — your grocery budget goes through the roof trying to keep his hunger satiated. 

This does mean, however, that your husband stores more fat. But it isn’t an awful experience. Rather, it’s actually the sexiest thing ever. Seeing him grow rounder in his arms, his face, his stomach and his thighs is incredible. You notice the added weight when he lays on your chest at night, laying a possessive hand on your tummy. 

He almost crushes you when he does that. At first, he simply takes extra care around you, making sure he moves slowly and carefully, but as the winter approaches and he grows even bigger, sleeping on you is no longer an option and you must lie on his chest, the hairs there tickling your nose. 

You can’t keep your hands off Bear hybrid!Nanami in those months. Even as he’s sorting through papers in his office, you just can’t help but crawl under his desk and fish out his thick cock. It’s long, thicker at the base where those fuzzy blond hairs are than the curve. He’s even bigger as he’s bulking. There, in his base, is a little knot-like curve that makes your mouth water. 

“Feeling needy, darling?”

You hum, teasing your lips against his tip. “For you? Always.”

He lands a heavy paw on your head, guiding your head lower. Taking him in, in any holes, is never easy. You have to mentally prepare yourself by re-familiaring yourself with his scent, his texture, and his taste by licking from base to tip, circling the head and peering up at him as his breathing becomes heavy. Only once does he begin releasing pained groans do you stretch your lips to engulf him. 

“Sweetheart, go -ha- slowly,” he advices. “I’ll cum too fast if you’re rough with me.”

His thighs are so thick you palm them, eyes rolling back at the pudge there, still solid and firm from his strength, and the knowledge that he could crush you with them makes you so wet, you moan around his cock. 

The growls coming from his chest vibrate the wooden desk you’re under, heady air puffing from his mouth as he curls his lips back, big arms tensing whilst he grips the wood with a deathly force, knuckles white. You hear it creak above you. You suck harder. 

“Almost there, honey. Keep -ngh- going.”

When he spurts in your mouth, painting your throat with his seed, he thumbs at your bottom lip, smearing the wetness of both his cum and your drool all over your chin before he pulls it down to inspect your mouth. “Swallow it all, my love. That’s right. Such a good girl.”

During hibernation, the entire family is sluggish. The children sleep all day. Kento practically never leaves the bed. Though he’s eaten enough in the season before to only need to eat once in a while, the same can’t be said for you. No, you still need to eat three meals a day.

You know that. And your husband knows that, too. 

So, why does he refuse to let go of you in the mornings, afternoons, and evenings? 

Held by his brawny arms, one around your chest, groping your tit, and the other circling your neck, you literally cannot move. Especially not with the hefty thigh he’s thrown over both of your legs. The snow he senses outside urges his instincts to keep all sources of warmth with him, even if the hottest thing in your room is himself, with all the heat emanating from his huge body. 

“Ken, I’m hungry,” you whine. 

He huffs, no rebuttal escaping him. 

His glasses have been safely tucked away in a drawer, and he’s wrapped tightly in a bulky sweater, hair all mussed up. He looks even paler during the winter, the only colour on his skin being the flush across his cheeks. Kento is the epitome of comfor during hibernation — it’s his favourite time of the year. He gets paid leave and so do you, the government understanding the importance of hybrids having support systems during such a vulnerable time. 

With his cubs all safe and sound at home, just in the next room, and his wife by his side at every given moment, there’s nothing else he could possibly ask for. Except maybe for you to stop squirming to get away.

“I’m literally starving, Kento,” you grumble. 

Bear hybrid!Nanami relents at the very last second, pulling those heavy limbs back enough for you to slide out from under them. You rush to the bathroom for your much needed reprieve and then head straight to the kitchen. Your husband had kept you captive until it was past lunchtime. 

He is so ridiculously selfish during these winter months. 

Careful to make as little noise as possible, you make a quick breakfast. Waiting for the bread to pop up from the toaster, all golden brown and warm, you tap your foot against the floor. It’s an odd feeling to rarely cook in the winter season — all year round, there’s practically never enough food for your husband and your children. Now, you pretty much only cook for yourself. 

You may not have the bear instincts they do, but you are a mother. You have to constantly fight the urge to shake your babies awake and shove hearty stews and delicious pies down their throats. Whenever you sneak into their rooms, all you ever get are grumbles of complaint about how loud you’re being. And if you leave the bed too often to check up on them, making sure they’re still breathing,  your husband becomes adorably irritated and carries them over to your bedroom, everyone piling on top. 

“You left me waiting so long, sweetheart,” Kento grumbles into your neck, startling you.  

Somehow, he had managed to creep up behind, bare feet padding quietly until he reached the kitchen where he promptly rested his weight onto you. Almost toppling over by the sudden weight, you yelp. 

“Ken! Go back to bed.”

Skimming his nose against your neck, he hums, “Can’t sleep without my wife.”

He patiently waits with you, hugging you from behind as he practically dozes off on top of your head, steady breathing causing his chest to rise and fall, coaxing you back to sleepiness too. He reaches over, plating the toasts for you as soon as they emerge, wary they’re too hot for your sensitive human hands. 

Taking your last bite, your world turns topsy turvy when you’re thrown over his shoulder, a large hand palming your thigh all the way up to your ass. Upon reaching your bedroom, he climbs in with you still clinging to his torso. You lay on top of him. He doesn’t complain about the weight, rather he groans from the feeling of you, all of you, keeping him warm and grounded.

“If you were a bear, honey,” he mumbles sleepily, hand rubbing your back, “those toasts would be enough to keep you in bed with me for weeks. How lovely would that be?”

Playfully, you retort, “You should marry one, then.”

“There’s no one else for me but you. Human or hybrid, you’re perfect. Just perfect,” he muses. 

Grabbing your left hand, he rests it on his which lies on the pillow above his head. Your rings clink together as he clutches every part of you tightly, like you might disappear when he wakes up, like this marriage with you has been all one big dream. 

What a sweet slumber and a bitter waking it would be. 

“See you on the other side, Kenny,” you say absentmindedly. 

Kissing the top of your head, he affirms, “Always.”

Once winter passes, Bear hybrid!Nanami returns to work and your kids go back to school, catching up with their friends like they haven’t been asleep almost the entire time. 

The snow’s all gone and the frost in the air disappears, signalling a brand new start. Your cubs will grow bigger, whilst your husband shifts back to his normal size, still enormous and intimidating, but much more hardened. In the spring, that brings its own set of problems. 

“The cubs are at their friends’, sweetheart.” Kento hugs you from behind as you stir a pot in the kitchen. You already know where this is going. You’ve lived through enough springs with the man to know that the bulge he’s grinding against your ass isn’t a simple expression of his love for you. 

Sighing, you ask, “Isn’t two plenty, Ken?”

He growls, teeth scraping your neck as he squeezes every inch of flesh his paws can reach. “I’m a greedy man. I want more of you. I want one that has your eyes and your wit. And another with your hair and your humour.”

When he cups your pussy through your dress, there’s nothing you can say in argument before he places you atop the counter, hob off and food left to grow cold. He’s got something more delicious in mind. 

He grips your thighs, legs spread to accommodate his wide berth. Leaving a big bite on your skin, a red mark begins to grow and the growl vibrating in his chest tells you everything you need to know. Kento isn’t stopping until your stomach balloons with his cubs once more. 

“Smells so good, sweetheart.” He presses his nose against your clothed core, burying the tip on your clit. His mouth waters with the tantalising scent filling his senses. “Always smell so good. I can never focus when you’re around.”

Your panties are ripped apart in his claws, torn to shred but before you can even process the destruction, he’s already diving in, your wetness coating his beard. Kento laps up all the juice you produce, suckling that tight little bud, rolling it with his tongue to hear your moans. 

You pull at his hair, so thick and luscious, and jut your hips up. The pleasure quickly grows overwhelming and you’re squirming away, clawing to find escape from the mind-numbing euphoria. 

Bear hybrid!Nanami growls, throwing a heavy arm over your stomach and he gnaws on your thigh in warning. “Do not move. Do not run. I couldn’t bear it. Not right now, sweetheart. You will give me what I want and you will thank me, yes?”

Panting, you nod your head. “Yes, yes. I’m sorry, Kenny.”

Eyes narrowing, he licks up the bruise he’s planted on your thigh in apology before he dives right back in with greater vigour. He wriggles his tongue inside, his nose teasing your clit, and you cum, creaming right into his mouth. Your husband makes low noises of approval, grip on your body turning punishing.

Bones a mush, he spins you around, wrangling you into position. Kento doesn’t give you a second to even recollect yourself. Your back to his chest, he pulls down the neckline of your dress, cupping your tits with calloused paws. 

“These will fill up with milk for our cubs and they’ll feed our babies,” he reminds you, pinching your nipples and you can almost imagine the sensitivity you’ll develop. “You get aches here, don’t you, darling? It’ll be alright. Your husband will take care of you, hmm? He’ll suck out all the milk so you don’t clog up.”

In one hard thrust, he shoves his length inside you. You gasp, eyes wide and jaw dropping. You feel so full. His long and thick cock is pressing against all the sensitive spots in your pussy, kissing your cervix. Your juices coat him, leaving shiny dew drops on the blond hairs at his base. 

“Feel me here, my love?” He’s got a paw pressing hard on the imprint of his bulge. When he presses harder, you clench down, jolts of electricity tickling your spine. “Ngh, that’s right. That’s where our cubs will be. You’ll grow -god you’re so beautiful- round until you can’t see your toes anymore. Oh, and then you’ll need me to put your socks on and -so tight ha- tie your laces, right?”

“Yes, Ken!”

He’s pummelling deep inside of you, head rubbing against that spot that makes you cream even more. The force in which he’s thrusting is leaving you a shaking mess, having to cling onto the counter to steady yourself. 

“I’ll protect you -ha goodness- and our family. Always. N-no one will harm you. You’ll always be safe with me,” he chants and you’re not even sure he’s talking to you. Kento can only plunge his cock inside, that bulge at the base inching its way in with no regard for how your pussy’s having to stretch impossibly to fit all of him. 

You cling onto that one hand keeping your hips still. “Ken! I can’t. It’s too much!”

He bites your neck, digging into your skin. Those meaty arms wrap completely around you, and he’s lifting you up and dragging you down on his cock. Your head is lolled against his shoulder, limbs limp as he uses you like a glorified fleshlight. 

“Nonsense. You’ll take it all in. You’ve done it before and you’ll do it again. For your Kento, yes? For your beloved husband? For your Kenny?”

You scream as your orgasm washes over you like a tsunami, snatching you under until you’re left panting for breath, vision blurring from the tears cascading down your cheeks. He licks one that trails down your jaw and the salty taste, coupled with the almost painful squeezing of your sloppy cunt, pushes him over the edge. 

Spurts of white paint your quivering walls, your clit throbbing as he shudders against you with a prolonged growl. 

“So good. Always so good for me.” He makes a satisfied noise, grinding his hips deeper inside to plug up your pussy, keeping all of his seed inside. “What would you like, honey?”

You already know what he means and you don’t hesitate to answer, slurring, “Another boy and girl. So that we’ll have even numbers.”

His laughter rumbles and he kisses your neck, lips sliding through the sheen of sweat. He’s still holding you up with ease. “That would be nice. If we only get one boy, we can try for a girl soon after, and vice versa. What do you say, my love?”

You’re almost asleep, thoroughly exhausted even as your pussy still spasms around his thick cock, sensitive from the warmth of his flesh and his seed. Mind elsewhere, you can only reply, “Whatever you want, Ken.”

“Don’t say things like that, sweetheart. Because you know if I had it my way, you’ll always be pregnant and our house would be filled with mini yous all the time.”

The image causes him to throb inside you, cock not softening but rather getting bigger somehow. And when he begins rocking his hips once more, you know he likes the idea a little too much. 

You go for rounds after rounds until you’re leaving a trail of cum as he carries you over to the bathroom, where he takes you again and again, eating up the overflowing mixture of your combined essence.

Bear hybrid!Nanami never needs to try hard to convince you for anything. All he needs to do is flash you that soft smile and flex those huge muscles and you’re creating a sloppy mess in your panties. And he knows when he’s charm has taken the effect he intended. His sense of smell is so powerful he can tell when you’re growing needy from even across the house, where he chases you and pins you to the ground.

The next hibernation is spent taking care of newborns. A boy and a girl. And oh, how proud is your husband to have given you exactly what you wanted. His heart couldn’t be any more full. Except for a couple months later when he’s pawing at your breasts again. 

[succubusvalentine]

Simon Riley with a wife that loves to cook him lunches. I like to think this is in the same universe as this blurb. CW : None. Pure fluff

Simon loves waking up, having a shower, and then coming downstairs to see a plate of breakfast on the kitchen island, and you, in the kitchen, wearing one of his shirts as your pyjamas.

Simon loves wrapping his arms around your waist as you cook whatever you're making for him.

And it's not as though he demands it, or expects it. Ever since the two of you got married and you got to work from home instead of in the office, you would make Simon lunch.

It wasn't always in the morning, either. Sometimes you would just show up to the 141 base, greeting everyone with a sweet smile. Before handing Simon a still warm container of food.

Simon loved your cooking, but something he loved even more was the ego boost he received from his mates. Johnny especially.

Johnny always commented on what Simon had for lunch. Expressing how good it was and how he wishes he had a 'bonnie lass' at home that would make lunch for him.

Then, Simon made the mistake of telling you about Johnny's words.

Simon had said it in passing while the two of you were cuddling in bed. Chuckling to himself, not even noticing the pout on your lips.

He shouldn't have been surprised when in the morning, he saw two containers, instead of one. One labeled "Simon ‪‪❤︎‬", the other labeled "Johnny ‪‪❤︎‬".

Simon slid the container across the table as he sat across from Johnny. The scotsman looking confused before his eyes lit up.

"She cook this for me, did she?" Johnny smiled brightly.

"Aye. But don't get a big head about it" Simon glared.

"How can I no' get a big head aboot it? sweet lass she is. Migh' have tae steal her from ye"

"don't even think about it"

"She e'en put a heart nex' tae ma name, Simon. She must fancy me"

"I'm telling her you hated the food"

"No! dinnae dae that ye big brute! she'll think A'm a bastard!"

"You are one"

Simon brought home two empty containers that night. Telling you about how Johnny groaned with every mouthful and nearly licked the container clean.

You also started receiving sloppy kisses on the cheek from Johnny whenever you brought lunch in during the day for your husband and his best friend.

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

[4linos]

they call you clingy pt. 2

ot8 x fem!reader

genre: slight angst. hurt/comfort. fluff. (mostly) happy endings.

wc: 8916

(read they call you clingy pt. 1 first)

bang chan

When Chan returned home later that night, he was overwhelmed with guilt. He expected to be greeted with a warm embrace, maybe even a soft joke about how awkward he had been earlier. But when he entered your shared bedroom, he was greeted with silence. The lights were dark, and you sat on the edge of the bed, back to him. "Y/N?" He called out quietly, almost pleading.

You did not respond.

Chan's heart fell as he got closer, but you flinched when you felt him behind you. He stood there for a while, unsure of what to do, before finally speaking, his voice trembling. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say what I said. It was a terrible joke. Please… please look at me.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough for him to see the tear tracks on your cheeks. Your eyes were red and swollen, and your expression was tight, like you were holding everything in. The sight broke him, and he stepped forward, kneeling in front of you, trying to meet your gaze.

“I didn’t mean it, Y/N. I was frustrated, and I let it all out in the worst way. I’m so sorry, I should’ve never said that. You’re not clingy. I don’t think that at all. I was wrong. I never should’ve made you feel that way.”

You shook your head slowly, your voice cold. “No, you meant it. I heard the way you said it. You don’t want me around. You think I’m suffocating you.”

“I don’t,” Chan whispered urgently, his hands reaching out to touch yours, but you pulled them away. “I don’t think that. I swear. I don’t want you to think that at all. I just… I don’t know what came over me.”

But you didn’t want to hear it. You wanted to believe him, but the words still stung too much. The way he had looked at you with indifference, how he dismissed your presence like it was something burdensome. It wasn’t just the words it was the way it made you feel so small, like you weren’t wanted.

You stood up suddenly, avoiding his touch. “I just need some space, Chan. Please. Just leave me alone tonight.”

Chan flinched, but he didn’t argue. He nodded, his heart breaking as he quietly walked out of the room. He knew he had crossed a line, and the weight of that reality hit him hard. He didn’t sleep well that night, tossing and turning on the couch, feeling the distance between you both like a wall that couldn’t be scaled.

The next morning, Chan woke up early, with his mind still filled with guilt. He'd apologized the night before, but he knew it wasn't enough. He needed to express how sorry he was and how much he cared. He crept quietly into the kitchen and began preparing breakfast, hoping to get it right for once. When the smell of pancakes and coffee filled the apartment, he returned to your bedroom, gently knocked on the door before opening it slightly.

You sat on the side of the bed, looking out the window. Your back was still turned to him, but when you heard him enter, you had stayed still.

Chan took a deep breath, his voice soft. “I made breakfast… for us. Please, can we just eat together? I want to talk.”

You didn't say anything at first, but eventually nodded and stood up, following him into the kitchen. You both sat silently, the tension hanging between you like a cloud. Chan pushed the dish of pancakes toward you, his hands shaking slightly. He took a breath and spoke again, his voice full of earnestness.

"You were not clinging, Y/N. I was wrong. You aren't suffocating me. I adore having you around; I always do. I… I'm not sure why I said that. My frustration clouded my judgment, and I hurt you. I'm really sorry."

You didn’t answer right away, but the tightness in your chest slowly loosened. You looked up at him, seeing the genuine regret in his eyes. His usual bravado was gone, replaced by a vulnerability you hadn’t seen before.

You sighed softly, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. “It just hurt, Chan. I… I don’t want to be a burden to you.”

“You’re never a burden,” he said quietly. “You’re my partner. I want you to be with me. Always. You nodded, the words finally sinking in. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have shut you out.”

He reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. “No, I deserve it. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you both ate in silence, the unspoken understanding between you filling the room with a quiet comfort. The hurt was still there, but you knew you could heal it together.

lee know

The warmth from the burns on your leg persisted, but the coldness in your chest stung the most. You sat on the edge of the bed, carefully placing a cold compress against your skin, hoping that the discomfort sting would ease.

Your mind was racing, trying to figure out what had just transpired in the kitchen. Minho, your Minho, had yelled at you, and the words cut worse than anything physical could. You couldn't understand how it had come to this.

You had tried so hard to help, to lighten his burden, but instead you had made matters worse. The kitchen was a wreck, your leg was on fire, and your heart felt like it had been ripped open by the very person who had always made you feel safe. You wanted to believe it was just a moment of frustration, something that could be forgiven, but the distance between you both felt insurmountable.

When Minho’s voice called from the living room, it felt like the world’s weight pressed on your chest. “Hey... can we talk?" He sounded tired, but there was an undertone of hesitation, as if he wasn’t sure if you’d even listen.

You didn’t respond, hoping the silence would send the message you weren’t ready to face him just yet. But moments later, the sound of his footsteps in the hall brought you back to reality, and before you could register, he was standing in the doorway of your bedroom.

His expression shifted from confusion to panic when he saw you sitting there, the cold compress against your leg, and your tear-streaked face. His eyes widened, a rush of guilt flooding over him.

"What... what happened?" His voice was quieter and more uncertain now. He took a step forward, peering down at the reddening skin on your leg. "I—oh God, did you burn yourself?" His eyes scanned yours for a response, his hand quivering slightly as he reached out to touch your leg. You didn't say anything. You couldn’t find the words. The burn hurt badly, but the heaviness of his words in the kitchen made it intolerable.

Minho's hands shook as he gently led you to lie down on the bed. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" His voice cracked slightly as he rubbed a cool cloth on the burns, the chill alleviating the sting slightly.

You finally let yourself to cry, tears rocking your chest and the emotional weight coming down on you. You didn't understand how much you were holding back until the tears started pouring freely. "I-I'm sorry for the soup," you said through sobbing. "I didn't mean to ruin everything. "I just... wanted to help."

Minho's face softened, expressing regret and disbelief. He wiped your tears away with his thumb, his voice barely audible. "Stop. I don't care about the soup. Not when you're hurt. "Why didn't you tell me you were in pain?"

His words felt like a balm to your wounded heart, but they didn’t erase the ache. You buried your face in his chest as he leaned down to kiss your forehead gently, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m so sorry for what I said. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. You don’t deserve that... you never deserve that.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten even more. You clung to him, your arms wrapped tightly around his torso, needing his warmth, his presence. “Minho... I just—everything went wrong today. And then you... you made me feel like I was a burden.” Your voice trembled, and the weight of your emotions finally broke free.

Minho’s arms tightened around you as he whispered into your hair, “I never meant to make you feel that way. I was frustrated, and I took it out on you. But you are not a burden. You never will be. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

You could feel his hands softly comb through your hair, comforting you as you kept crying into him. The tears weren't simply over the soup, the burn, or the day's failures. It was all about trying to keep things together, to be strong, and not show how overwhelmed you were. And everything came tumbling down in his arms. "I should have been there for you today." "I should have seen how much you were struggling," Minho said, his voice thick with regret. "I'm not upset at you. I should never have said that. I'm so sorry."

You nodded into his chest, the tears slowly subsiding as his comforting words washed over you. Despite everything, despite the mess and the hurt, there was still love between you two, even if it was lost in the chaos for a moment.

“I love you,” Minho whispered, his hand gently wiping away the last of your tears. “Please, forgive me.”

You pulled back slightly, meeting his eyes. There was nothing but tenderness there now, no trace of the frustration that had clouded his expression before. “I love you too,” you said, your voice still shaky, but steadying. “I know you didn’t mean it. I just... I just had such a bad day. Everything went wrong, and I was just trying to fix it... and I ended up making it worse.”

Minho kissed your forehead again, his lips lingering for a moment. “You don’t have to fix everything. You don’t have to carry it all alone. I’m here. I’ll always be here. Let me help you.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief settle over you as his arms wrapped around you again. “I’m sorry, too,” you whispered, hugging him tighter. “I just... I wanted to help you. To make it better. I didn’t mean to make things worse.”

“I know,” Minho whispered back. “And you didn’t make it worse. I promise.”

As the silence between you two grew, the storm within you began to calm. It wasn't entirely mended yet, but for the first time that day, you felt like you weren't going through it alone. You felt at ease in his embrace, and you gradually began to hope that things can get better again.

changbin

Changbin's breath came out in weak, raspy gasps as he stood there watching you walk away. Every instinct in his body shouted for him to go after you, to draw you back and explain himself, but something in the air held him still. The severity of his own words resonated in his thoughts, a jarring reminder of the damage he had just done. You were hurt. And now, so was he.

He watched as your form disappeared through the exit, the door closing softly behind you. The gym suddenly felt suffocating. The weight of his own anger and frustration, which he had not yet fully comprehended, seemed to settle in his chest like a stone. He turned over, and his face flushed, his head dizzy with regret. He never wanted to make you feel like this, never wanted you to feel like a burden. His mind was spinning with confusion, but one thing was painfully clear: he had messed up. Badly.

He stood there for a long time, eyes fixed on the door, as if begging you to return, but he knew it was pointless. He had said too much. The damage was done.

You'd never felt smaller than you did at that time. Changbin's words felt like a hefty blow to the chest, knocking the air out of you. You weren't expecting him to snap. Sure, he'd been distant before, but this was different. The sharpness in his voice, the way he stared at you with irritation and anger, hurt in ways you couldn't articulate.

You didn’t know how long you had been walking for when you found yourself in the parking lot, your car now looming in front of you like a silent reminder of what had just transpired. You stood there for a moment, your hands trembling as you fumbled to unlock the door. The cold night air bit at your skin, but the chill in your chest felt much worse.

Why was he so angry?

You understood that sometimes people needed space, but you had no idea that your presence, which you expected to bring you closer, would make him feel overwhelmed. The realization hit you hard: He had been letting you to follow him about because he didn't know how to express his need for space. And, in the end, when he exploded, it broke the fragile link you had formed with him.

Your eyes stung with the promise of tears, but you pushed them away. You weren't sure if you were ready to let them fall yet.

You got in the car and drove aimlessly at first, wanting to get away and clear your mind. The drive seemed to go on forever, but you couldn't escape the agony in your chest. You eventually pulled over onto a quiet street and parked. You allowed the silence to settle in, the only sound being the faint hum of your car's engine.

Your phone buzzed, and you looked at it nervously. It was a message from Changbin. Your finger hovered over the screen, unsure whether to open it or not. But the yearning for an explanation, some attempt to make sense of it all, was overwhelming. So you opened it.

Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I didn’t mean to make you feel unwanted. Can we please talk?

You bit your lip, your eyes scanning the words over and over. His apology felt sincere, but it didn’t erase the sting of what he had said. How could it? And yet, a part of you still wanted to hear him out, to understand where he was coming from, even if it hurt.

You debated texting him back. Part of you wanted to ignore him, to hold onto the distance you felt was needed right now. Another part wanted to reach out, to explain that you weren’t trying to smother him, that you just wanted to be close.

Instead of responding, you did the one thing you never thought you’d do: you called him.

The phone rang a few times before he answered. “Y/N?” His voice was soft, hesitant, almost nervous.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Can we talk?”

A long silence passed. You could hear him take a deep breath on the other end. “Yeah. I think we need to.”

-

Back at the gym, Changbin had barely managed to collect himself before his phone buzzed in his hand. When he saw your name on the screen, he almost couldn’t believe it. He had messed up so badly, and yet, you were still willing to talk to him. His heart beat faster as he swiped to answer, his voice coming out quieter than he intended.

“Y/N?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t imagining this.

“I… I’m still upset, Bin,” you said, your voice shaky. “I don’t know what to think. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was invading your space. I just… I wanted to be close to you.”

“I know,” he whispered, guilt flooding his chest. “I should’ve told you sooner. It’s not your fault. I don’t want you to feel like that… like I’m pushing you away. But I just… the gym was the one place where I could just be by myself, clear my head. And when I didn’t have that anymore… I didn’t know how to handle it.”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see it. “I didn’t know. I thought… I thought you’d like it. That maybe it would be something we could do together.”

“I do like spending time with you,” he said, his voice steady now, more sincere. “I really do. But I didn’t realize how much I was taking it out on you. I didn’t mean to hurt you. And I’m sorry for how I said it. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. You’re not a burden to me, Y/N. You’re the last person I want to hurt.”

You closed your eyes, trying to steady yourself. “I just wanted to be close to you. I didn’t realize I was making you feel suffocated.” There was a long pause before he spoke again. “I know. And I should’ve communicated better. I just didn’t know how.”

“I understand,” you replied softly. “I just… I need a little time. To process this.”

Changbin’s heart sank, but he understood. “Yeah. I get that. Take the time you need. But please know I’m here. I don’t want to lose you over something that should’ve been a misunderstanding.”

You inhaled deeply, feeling the weight of the conversation. It wasn’t fixed, not yet, but you could feel the tension easing a little, the sharp edges of the pain starting to soften.

“Okay,” you said quietly. “We’ll talk more when I’m ready.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Changbin replied, his voice full of warmth despite the distance between you. “I’ll be here.”

The call ended, leaving a quiet, uneasy space between you two. You were unsure where this would lead or what would happen next. But perhaps, just maybe, you can find your way back together.

hyunjin

The next morning, you woke to a cloud of confusion still hanging over you. Hyunjin's remark from last night, as well as the way he pushed you away, played on an unending loop in your memory. The hurt was still fresh, but you were beginning to wonder why. Why had everything changed so dramatically? Why had Hyunjin, who you had always trusted, suddenly become distant?

You'd barely slept, your mind knotted in a web of despair, confusion, and betrayal. Everything seemed odd as you tried to get through the day. The calm hum of your daily routine had been replaced by a heavy silence in your chest. Your phone remained silent, and you weren't sure if that was a relief or something else entirely. You couldn’t decide whether to hope Hyunjin would reach out to explain himself or whether it was better to just forget it all.

But then, in the late afternoon, your phone buzzed. It was a text from him.

Hyunjin: Can we talk? I need to explain.

Your stomach twisted, both nervous and cautious. You stared at the message, weighing the possibility of opening the door to this conversation. You didn’t know if you were ready to hear whatever he had to say. Still, part of you needed answers, even if they were painful.

After a few moments of hesitation, you typed back.

You: Where?

Hyunjin: Meet me at the park in 30 minutes. Please.

You took a deep breath and, despite everything, found yourself getting ready to meet him. Part of you was angry, but there was another part, the part that still missed him, that needed to understand. You had always believed in the strength of your friendship. You didn’t want to just throw that away without knowing what had really happened.

When you arrived at the park, the air felt cool against your skin, and the trees around you swayed gently in the breeze. The park was quiet, mostly empty, with only a few scattered joggers. You found him near a bench, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, his posture tense. He stood as soon as he saw you, but neither of you moved closer at first. There was an awkwardness between you two that felt thick enough to cut.

“Hyunjin,” you said softly, your voice almost faltering. "You wanted to talk?"

He nodded but didn’t say anything right away. He just stood there, staring at you as if he wasn’t sure how to start. Finally, after a long pause, he exhaled sharply and took a step closer.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice low and unsure. "I know I hurt you last night, and I—I need you to know that wasn’t my intention. I’ve been… I’ve been a mess, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I don’t know how to deal with these feelings.”

You furrowed your brows, the confusion growing. “Feelings? What are you talking about?”

Hyunjin seemed to hesitate, as if he was unsure whether to voice the words out. But after a moment, he added, his voice breaking slightly: "I—I like you. More than just a friend. I had for a while, but I wasn't sure how to deal with it. So I tried pushing you away. I figured if I detached myself from you, it would go away. That I could let go of these feelings."

The words struck you like a thunderclap. For a while, you just stood there, your mind spinning, trying to make sense of what he had just revealed. Hyunjin... liked you? Was it why he had been so distant? All the time you'd spent wondering what had changed, what had gone wrong… it was this?

He looked at you, his eyes full of vulnerability, guilt, and something else that you couldn’t quite name. “I didn’t know how to deal with it, and I thought… if I pushed you away, I could just forget. But the more I tried to ignore it, the worse it got. And last night, I just… I didn’t know how to act around you anymore. So I lashed out. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

You stood there, silently absorbing his words. The knot in your chest relaxed, but it was replaced by something else: a rush of feelings you couldn't quite describe.

You had no idea how to handle this revelation. You had been wondering what had happened to your friendship, why things seemed so tense, and now it all made sense. But it was overwhelming. You never saw it coming.

"I don't know what to say," you confessed gently. "I did not..." I didn't realize you felt that way. All I saw was you slipping away, and I wondered if I had done something wrong. I didn't realize it was about this."

“I should have told you,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. "I was so afraid of ruining everything, of losing our friendship. But instead, I ended up pushing you away. I thought if I could stop being close to you, I could stop feeling this way. I was wrong."

You felt a mixture of emotions rise up relief, anger, sadness, confusion. But beneath it all, there was something else: you understood now. He had been trying to protect himself, even if it meant hurting you in the process. It didn’t make his actions right, but it made them a little easier to comprehend.

“So what now?” you asked, your voice softer than before.

Hyunjin took a step closer, his gaze intense. "I don’t expect things to go back to how they were immediately. I don’t know how to fix this. But I want to try. I want to be honest with you now. If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. But I couldn’t keep pretending anymore. I couldn’t let you think you didn’t matter."

You paused for a long moment, the weight of his words sinking in. Part of you still felt hurt, but another part of you your heart, maybe was softening. You had always cared about him. The idea of more than just friendship… it was a lot to process, but you realized that in some way, you were willing to listen, to figure out what this meant for the two of you.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen next,” you said, finally meeting his gaze. “But I’m not going to lie and say I don’t care. I do. I care a lot. We just need time. To figure this out.”

Hyunjin nodded, his eyes filled with a quiet hope. “I’ll give you time. I won’t push you. I just needed to say it. To be honest.”

The two of you stood there for a while, neither of you moving, but there was a shift a change in the air. For the first time in weeks, it felt like there might be a way forward. Maybe it wasn’t simple, maybe it wasn’t easy, but at least you had the truth. And that, you realized, was enough to begin again.

HAN

The silence lingered for what seemed like hours, the kind of silence that enveloped you both like a thick cloud. You hadn't moved, still curled on the bed, eyes locked on the wall, as if it might give some answers. You couldn't get the idea that something inside of him had permanently shifted, that whatever had cracked tonight had been building up for a time and was now beyond your control.

Jisung said nothing, did not try to pull you closer, nor did he give his usual soothing words of regret. But he had not left either. His presence next to you, despite its normal comfort, suddenly felt like a distant recollection, a piece of him that had vanished.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you heard him shift on the bed beside you. His voice was barely a whisper, but you could tell he was struggling, his words thick with emotion.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and you could hear the weight of the apology, like he had been holding it back for so long it had become a raw, painful thing.

You stayed silent, not sure what to say. He had hurt you, and though you wanted to forgive him, you couldn’t shake the sting of his words. His harshness had cut deeper than anything he’d said before, and you weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion of the day, or something more, something that had been building up between you two for a while.

“I didn’t mean it, Y/N,” he continued, his voice shaky, as if the apology itself had become difficult to express. “I’m just… I’m just tired. I don’t know how to deal with everything. But that doesn’t excuse how I snapped at you. You don’t deserve that. You never do.”

You eventually allowed yourself to turn towards him, your gaze scanning his face, and you saw the weakness there, the same vulnerability you had always seen beneath his normal confidence. His fists were clasped in his lap, and his shoulders bowed, as if he were bracing for the impending storm.

"You are not a burden, Y/N." "You're not clingy," he continued quietly, his voice much lower now, as if the apology was gradually peeling away the layers of irritation and hurt. "I just.. I'm not always sure how to let you in. I am so overwhelmed that instead of accepting your help, I push you away."

Your heart squeezed. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he was battling with himself, trying to figure out how to make it right without knowing how.

“I’ve been so used to dealing with everything on my own,” he continued, looking at the floor as if he couldn’t bear to look you in the eye. “I didn’t want to burden you with my problems. I didn’t want you to see me as weak. But instead, I ended up hurting you.”

The vulnerability in his words hit you hard, and it took everything in you not to reach out and wrap your arms around him. You knew he had been struggling, you knew it. But hearing him admit that he had been keeping things from you, afraid of showing his true self, only made the ache in your chest grow.

“I don’t think you’re weak,” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly. “I think you're strong. But you don’t have to do everything by yourself, Jisung. You don’t have to hide it from me.”

He shook his head, eventually meeting your eyes. His eyes were filled with sadness, but there was also a quiet desperation in them, as if he didn't know how to mend the rift between you two.

“I just... I'm so sorry. I don't know how to ask for help," he said, his voice full with sorrow. "But when you try to help me, I... I push you away because I'm not sure how to let you in. But you aren't a burden, Y/N. You have never been one. I just didn't know how to handle anything on my own, so I ended up pushing you away when all you wanted was to be there for me."

The honesty in his words was almost too much to bear. You had always known Jisung to be someone who wore his heart on his sleeve, someone who could make light of even the darkest situations. But now, seeing him like this, so raw and open, made your chest tighten.

“I don’t want you to push me away anymore,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want to help you. But I can’t help you if you keep shutting me out.”

Jisung's lips twitched, as if he wanted to say more but couldn't find the right words. Instead, he simply nodded, the impact of his quiet screaming loudly. He didn't need to say anything else because you could feel the pain in his chest and all the frustration he'd been carrying around for too long.

For a long time, the two of you merely sat there, your quiet now distinct. It wasn't the crushing stillness of earlier, but one filled with empathy, even if neither of you understood exactly how to mend anything.

After a while, Jisung reached out, his hand hesitating before softly stroking your arm. The warmth of his fingers across your skin brought back memories of how simple things had been between you two. He didn't say anything unnecessary, but you could sense his apology in the way he held his hand there, letting you know he was sincerely sorry.

"I'll try to do better," he answered simply and softly. "I will try to let you in more. I do not want to push you away anymore."

You nodded, your heart still heavy but not as broken as it had been moments ago. “I just want to be there for you, Jisung,” you said softly. “I don’t want you to have to go through everything alone.”

The quiet stretched again, but this time, it felt different. It felt like a beginning. Neither of you knew how to fix everything right away, but you both knew that you wanted to try. And sometimes, that was enough.

Jisung shifted closer, his hand still resting on your arm, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel so distant from each other. There were still things left unsaid, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that you were both here, both willing to try again.

felix

The hours passed by in agonizing silence, the kind that made everything seem more impossible than it actually was and stretched and clawed at your thoughts. Nothing could take away the icy emptiness that had descended between you and Felix, even as you lay there, wrapped up inside yourself, listening to the gentle buzz of the night.

When the world got too much, he would wrap up with you and reassure you with soft touches and quiet words. You recalled the warmth you had previously enjoyed. Now, it felt like a lifetime ago. His distance was more than just physical; it was something that made your chest hurt since you didn't know how to make it better.

But as much as you wanted to lie there, to let the hurt consume you, you couldn't. You couldn't just wait and wonder if things would somehow improve on their own. You were the kind of person who needed closure, who needed to understand what was happening. And right now, Felix was slipping through your fingers, and you didn’t know how to stop it.

You sat up, wiping at your tear-streaked face, and glanced towards the living room. The faint glow from the TV still flickered through the hallway, casting a cold light on the darkness of the apartment. You could feel the weight of the choice pressing down on you: Should you leave him be, give him the space he seemed to want, or should you push through, confront him, and demand answers?

You hesitated for quite some time. But then you made a decision. You needed answers. You needed to understand why the person you loved had abruptly shifted into someone you didn't recognize. You moved along the hallway, the apartment's silence more oppressive than before.

Felix kept his position on the couch, his eyes looking blankly at the TV, his posture tight and walled off. You stayed there for a moment, studying him, trying to determine whether he noticed your presence.

His eyes didn’t leave the screen. His face remained unreadable.

"Felix," you said again, your voice steady but laced with emotion. This time, there was no hesitation in your tone, no softness. You needed him to hear you.

He didn’t respond immediately, but you could feel the tension in the room shift slightly, as if he knew you were waiting for him to say something. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, quieter than before.

“I told you I don’t want to talk,” he said, almost in a whisper. But this time, the words weren’t as sharp. There was something else in his voice, something you hadn’t heard before. It wasn’t anger, but a deep exhaustion, a weariness that seemed to go beyond just physical fatigue.

You didn’t take a step back this time. Instead, you closed the distance between you, sitting on the arm of the couch, your hand brushing lightly against his. It was small, a gesture that once would have meant nothing, but now it felt like everything. You needed him to know you were still here, that you hadn’t given up.

“Felix,” you repeated, softer this time, your voice trembling with vulnerability. “I know something’s bothering you. And I get it. You don’t have to talk right now, if you’re not ready. But I need to know—am I the problem?”

When you asked the question, his head snapped towards you, his eyes wide with amazement, as if he had never considered it before. For a brief moment, his gaze softened, and you thought you caught a glimpse of the old Felix, the one who used to share everything with you, the one who would always turn to you when the world got too much.

"Of course not," he said gently, his voice husky. He took a deep breath and wiped his face with his palms before running them through his hair. "You aren't the problem. "I just...I’m a mess right now, okay? I did not mean to push you away. I didn't know how to deal with it, and I thought if I could draw back, maybe it would get better.”

His words hung in the air, and for the first time in what felt like days, you understood. Felix had always been the strong one, the person who seemed so capable of handling everything on his own. But now you saw how much he was struggling beneath the surface, how much he had been hiding.

"You don’t have to carry it all alone," you said, your voice gentle but firm. "Felix, we’ve always been a team. You can lean on me. You don’t have to push me away just because you’re having a hard time."

He was silent for a long moment, his gaze flickering to the floor, then back up to you. The tension in his shoulders finally seemed to ease, and he let out a long breath. It was as though a weight was slowly lifting, and for the first time in days, you saw a glimpse of the Felix you had known and loved.

“I’m scared,” he admitted softly, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m scared of being a burden. I’m scared that if I show you how much I’m struggling, you’ll leave. I’m scared you won’t love me if I’m not always the one who has everything together.”

The rawness of his confession hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you just sat there, your heart aching for him. You had always known Felix to be strong, but in this moment, you realized just how vulnerable he was beneath it all, and how much he had been carrying alone.

“You don’t have to be perfect for me, Felix,” you said, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat. “I love you, all of you—the good, the bad, and everything in between. You don’t have to be anything but yourself.”

Felix finally looked at you, his eyes wide, his expression almost disbelieving. The walls that had been built up around him seemed to crack ever so slightly, and you could see the relief in his eyes. He swallowed hard, then reached out, taking your hand in his.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his grip tightening around your fingers. “I’ve been pushing you away for no reason. I was just so scared.”

You shook your head gently, squeezing his hand. “It’s okay, Felix. You don’t have to be scared. We’ll get through this together.”

For a minute, you just stood there, the two of you having an unsaid understanding. There was still a lot to sort out, and the path ahead would be difficult, but you knew that if you were both ready to try, you could do it.

As Felix drew in closer, resting his forehead against yours, you felt the warmth of his presence return, as well as the relief that you hadn't lost him despite everything. Not yet.

And for the first time in days, you allowed yourself to believe that things could be better.

seungmin

The morning light filtered softly through the kitchen windows, casting a dull glow over the room. Seungmin walked in, a faint sigh escaping his lips as he poured himself a cup of coffee, his mind still half-occupied by the rehearsals and everything waiting for him outside the walls of this apartment. But as he sat down at the breakfast table, he was immediately hit with an unexpected shift in the air.

There was no cheerful greeting from you, no attempt to share a quiet moment together before the day began. Instead, you sat across from him, silently eating your breakfast, your gaze fixed on the plate in front of you. Usually, you’d be making something small, even if it was just a quick toast or coffee, a gesture that made mornings feel connected. But today, the stillness felt suffocating.

Seungmin frowned, the weight of the silence pressing down on him. He didn’t quite understand why you weren’t speaking, but he knew something wasn’t right. He set his cup down, meeting your eyes for the briefest of moments before his voice broke through the quiet.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, his tone a bit strained, not sure if he was even ready to hear the answer.

You did not respond immediately away, keeping your gaze fixed on your food and your jaw tight as if the words you wanted to say were locked between your teeth. But they didn't come, and your silence spoke louder than any argument. Seungmin waited, his patience dwindling as time passed.

Finally, you scoffed, making a little but harsh sound that seemed to cut through the air, and you stood up from the table, pushing your chair back with an audible scrape.

"I don’t know, Seungmin," you shot back, your voice tinged with frustration, barely holding back the anger bubbling beneath the surface. "Maybe I’m just tired of feeling like I don’t matter to you."

He blinked, taken aback by the intensity of your words. Before he could respond, you stormed off, the door to the bedroom slamming shut behind you with a force that rattled the still air. Seungmin sat there, the taste of the bitter coffee suddenly unfamiliar in his mouth, his mind spinning. He hadn’t expected this. Not after everything that had happened last night.

The rest of the day felt like a blur. He went through the motions work, meetings, rehearsals but your words lingered in his mind, a constant hum of unease. By the time he returned home that evening, the tension was unbearable. He hesitated by the front door, unsure of what to expect. Normally, he would have found you sitting on the couch, or you would have greeted him with a small smile, asking about his day. But tonight, there was only silence.

He walked into the apartment, his footsteps faltering slightly as he noticed you in the corner of the living room, avoiding his gaze completely. You sat curled up on the couch, eyes fixed on the television but not really seeing anything at all. He stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of you, and the hollow feeling in his chest deepened.

"Can we talk?" he asked carefully, his voice laced with concern. His eyes searched yours for any sign that you were ready to listen.

You didn't respond immediately, your body rigid and remote. His heart fell as he saw the look on your face, as if a part of you had closed off, trapped behind a door he couldn't open. "Please," he said, getting closer. "I don't know what's going on, but..." "I can't fix this unless you tell me."

You snapped your head up, your eyes burning with a mix of pain and frustration. Your voice was more emotional than usual. "You don't get it, do you, Seungmin?" You stood up abruptly, raising your voice with each word. "I have tried. I've been trying for days to get you to come see me and realize that something is wrong! But all you have done is brush me off, make me feel like I’m too much for you, like I’m just… clingy."

His eyes widened in realization, the words you had uttered earlier in the morning returning to him with a crushing force. He had no idea it had gotten this bad, nor did he realize how much his words had hurt you until now. And it stung when the weight of his own stupidity fell on him. You carried on, your voice cracking as you talked.

"You've been really distant, Seungmin. And when I try to talk to you or look for your attention, you just push me away. You make me feel as though I am a burden. And I can't keep pretending that I don't feel it.”

Seungmin opened his mouth, but no words came out. He stood there, completely stunned, his chest tightening with regret. He had been so wrapped up in his own stress and exhaustion, so focused on his own battles, that he hadn’t realized how far apart you had grown, how much pain you had been quietly carrying.

He swallowed hard, stepping closer, his voice small now, barely a whisper. "I never meant to make you feel that way. I… I didn’t realize how much my actions were hurting you."

But your anger had already started to bubble back up. You shook your head, arms crossed tightly against your chest. "How could you not realize, Seungmin? How could you not see how much I’m struggling with this? I needed you, but you’ve been so… so cold." You paused, your breath shallow. "I needed you to care. To see me."

The words stung like salt in an open wound, but Seungmin couldn’t deny the truth in them. His heart clenched, and without thinking, he moved toward you, pulling you into his arms before you could step away.

"I’m so sorry," he murmured, his voice thick with regret. "I didn’t mean to make you feel invisible, or like you were too much. I’ve been so caught up in everything that I forgot to see you, to notice what I was doing to us." He held you tighter, his grip desperate now, like he was trying to hold onto something he feared was slipping away. "Please forgive me. I don’t want to lose you."

Your body trembled against him, but for the first time in what felt like ages, you didn’t pull away. You rested your forehead against his chest, letting out a shaky breath, your emotions swirling but slowly softening under his touch.

"I just need you to be present, Seungmin," you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt. "I need to know that you’re here with me. That I matter to you."

"I hear you," he whispered softly, gently touching your face and lifting your head to meet his gaze. His embrace was raw and vulnerable in a way you had not seen before. "I hear you, and I promise to do better." I will make you feel seen. I will make sure you understand how much you mean to me."

You nodded softly, your heart aching but glad for his genuine remarks. The path to healing would take time, but for the first time in a long time, you felt confident that he would accompany you on it.

I.N

The next day, Jeongin arrived at your apartment, his normal bright smile on his face as he walked through the door. It was as if yesterday had never happened. His aura was light and carefree, as if he hadn't just disrupted the peace you had previously enjoyed in your relationship.

You, on the other hand, were still reeling from his cold demeanor the night before. The hurt persisted, and you couldn't shake the weight of his words. Stop being so clingy. It wasn't the first time someone had made you feel small, but it hurt more than you expected, especially coming from him.

You didn't answer as usual, and you didn't greet him with the warmth he had grown to expect. Instead, you kept your distance by giving him short, clipped answers. You preoccupied yourself with little things in the apartment, refusing to make eye contact in the hopes that the stillness would bridge the gap between you. The tension in the room, however, was palpable.

Jeongin didn't seem to notice right away. He went about his usual business, jokingly discussing his day and laughing as if everything was alright. When he reached for your hand, you automatically pushed it away, indicating that something was wrong. His smile faltered, and the warmth in his eyes was gradually replaced by confusion.

"Hey," he said, voice soft, the smile still not fully gone but now laced with a hint of concern. "What's wrong?"

You looked up at him, saw the real confusion in his eyes, and almost let it go. Almost let go of your pain for his smile, for the Jeongin you adored. But the words you'd been keeping in all day sprang to the surface. "What was that yesterday?" You snapped, your voice filled with emotion. The anger, hurt, and confusion you'd been harboring all night had finally bubbled over. "You were an entirely different person. One minute you were fine the next you were pushing me away, telling me I was too clingy. What was that?"

Jeongin blinked, taken aback by your strong tone, his eyes wide as if he had not expected such an outburst. His posture tensed, and for a brief period, you could see the walls he had built to protect himself from whatever discomfort was brewing inside. But that didn't erase the fact that his actions had harmed you more than he knew.

"If you want to act like that, maybe we should just break up," you muttered, the words tumbling out before you could stop them, a mix of hurt and frustration in your voice. "I don't want to be with someone who suddenly treats me like I'm a burden just because they're worried about what others think.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Jeongin’s expression faltered, his brows furrowing as if the idea of you breaking up was the last thing he expected. His eyes softened slightly, and his voice became almost breathless as he spoke, not quite believing what you’d just said.

“Wait… what?” His voice wavered, the hurt in his eyes clear now. "No, no, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean to hurt you."

You crossed your arms, feeling the burn of frustration building again. You needed answers. “Then what was it, Jeongin? Why did you act like that? I thought we were fine, but now… now I don’t know where I stand with you.”

He exhaled shakily, his hands running through his hair as he paced for a moment, clearly struggling to find the right words. After a beat of silence, he stopped in front of you, meeting your eyes, this time with a vulnerability that was both unexpected and painfully familiar.

“I… I love you," he began, his voice steady but filled with an edge of fear. "I love you so much, but I was afraid… I was afraid that if we showed too much PDA, the members would tease me relentlessly. They’re always joking about stuff like that, and I didn’t want them to make fun of me, of us."

The explanation hung in the air, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, stunned. Was this actually the reason? Was he so concerned about what his members thought that he distanced himself from you, his girlfriend, in front of them? You struggled to wrap your head around it.

"Are you embarrassed of me?" The question fell out of your mouth before you could think. The thought of it twisted something inside you, the possibility that he might consider you as something to hide rather than something to be proud of.

Jeongin’s face immediately morphed into one of panic, as if the very suggestion cut him deeper than anything you could have said. “No! God, no. I would never—” He stepped forward, his hands reaching for you, but you instinctively took a small step back. He stopped, his hands falling to his sides, the hurt in his eyes obvious now.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, the weight of his confession hanging between you two. "I never meant for you to feel like that. I just… I just didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t want the members to think I was soft or that I couldn’t keep my cool. But I was wrong. I was so wrong. I’m sorry for pushing you away, for making you feel like I didn’t care about you."

His words were a mix of regret and sincerity, and as he spoke, you could feel the depth of his struggle, the dread of being judged and ridiculed that kept him from completely being himself with you. It wasn't that he didn't love you; it was just that he hadn't understood how to balance his feelings with the demands of his life.

You stood there, silent for a moment, contemplating what he had just said. Your heart was still raw, but you could see remorse in his eyes and feel it in the way he stood, as if he was waiting for you to decide what to do next.

Finally, you spoke, your voice quieter than before, but the hurt remained beneath the surface. "I don't care what others say, Jeongin. I care about us. I want to be able to express my love for you without having to worry about what others might say."

He nodded quickly, his stare focused, and took a slight step toward you. "I promise I won't do it again. I will never make you feel that you are too much, or that I am embarrassed by you. You are more than just someone I care about; you are someone I am proud of. And I will do better. I will."

You held onto his gaze, seeing the honesty in his eyes and sensing the truth in his words. It was not a simple fix. There was work to be done and trust to be rebuilt, but you could tell right away that he was eager to give it his all.

"I just need you to be honest with me," you muttered, feeling the tension between you begin to ease. "That's all I want."

Jeongin's expression softened as he made one final step forward, closing the gap between you. His hands met yours, and his contact was warm and grounded. "I'm here. I'm actually here. And I will make sure you never feel that way again."

//

(❌ proofread)

masterlist.

[phtosynthesis]

homecoming — s. reid

spencer reunites with his wife, and their baby. (post-prison spencer)

𖡼 ⊹ ˚.

Spencer can feel his spine go rigid once he stands in front of his house's door. It's the exact moment he's fantasized about so many times while trapped inside the four walls of prison; when sleep would evade him and his mind would drift to the day he finally got to see you again.

When he'd get to hold you in his arms once more and smell your shampoo and perfume and feel the way a satisfied breath left your lungs as you clung to him. That moment he's been dreaming about for months on end is finally a reality, yet it still feels like a dream to him.

With bated breath, he turns the knob and the door opens with a small creek. In the back of his mind he wants to chastise you for having the door unlocked, but the bigger part of his brain can't be bothered to make a big deal out of that right now when all he can think about is the prospect of feeling your warmth against his otherwise cold and aching body again.

Quietly, he makes his way through the house, and he realizes with a pained heart that it feels unfamiliar to him. Nothing has actually changed since he'd been gone — all the furniture was still placed where he'd left it and nothing substantially new had been added as far as he can tell — but it feels as if he's stepping into another world, an environment he no longer has a place in.

He walks past the living room when there's no trace of you in it and when he doesn't find you in the kitchen either, he makes his way down the hallway to the first room on his left. The door is open a fraction, and from behind it, he can faintly hear your voice as you softly sing a lullaby that's not familiar to him.

At once, like a bucket of ice water straight to the face, it hits him that he's not only reuniting with you, but for the first time, he's going to be meeting the newest addition to the family. The family he had so abruptly been pulled away from and deprived of some of the most monumental moments in both your lives.

His heart had been shattered when he realized he wasn't going to be present for the birth of his own child, that you would have to spend the last few months of your pregnancy alone and unsure of the fact that you'll ever see your husband again. He owes both Emily and JJ the world and would spend the rest of his life thanking them for looking after you while he was away and providing the support he couldn't physically give you.

He hadn't met them yet, but before the baby was even born, he had promised himself he would be the best father he could be. He promised himself we would never be like his own father, that he'd give his everything to his new family.

Very quietly, he opens the door, and his gaze is immediately drawn to you as you stand in the middle of the freshly finished nursery. You have your back facing him as you softly sing to the baby held within your embrace. Your voice, after he'd been deprived of it for so long, sounds like the most heavenly music to his ears, and he suddenly feels like he wants to cry. He's finally home with both of you, and he gets to listen as you sing to your baby. He gets to see his baby for the first time, and it's all too much for his big brain and even bigger heart to handle.

Finally, as though you could sense his presence, you turn around and look Spencer square in the eyes as he stands in the threshold of the nursery. For the first few moments, you try to convince yourself you're simply seeing things. It wouldn't be the first time, seeing as your mind loved to taunt you at times when you could hear his voice calling to you in the hallways or when his pillow case smelled like he was still sleeping right next to you.

You soon realize that it's not your mind playing tricks on you, though, and that it really is Spencer standing in front of you. With the realization, it felt like all the air had been sucked from your lungs, like a painful punch to the gut. You wanted to scream, to launch yourself into his arms, cling to him, and cry in a way you haven't allowed yourself to since he went away. But you do none of that, and instead, you just stand and look at him as if your feet had been deadbolted to the floor, and your voice had permanently disappeared.

"Hi." Spencer's voice finally fills the seemingly endless silence, sounding unsure and small. "Hi," you return the gesture with a much shakier tone, desperately trying not to burst into tears.

The baby in your embrace suddenly starts fussing, cooing and wiggling around in your steady arms, and both you and Spencer's attention are drawn to the small bundle still wrapped in your embrace.

You whisper a few hushes and move your arms back and forth in a calming rhythm. As the cooing turns to soft breathing once again, your eyes move to Spencer, almost as if you're scared he'd dissappear if he leaves your sight for too long. You see that his attention is still stuck on the baby on your arms, brown eyes tired yet filled with so much emotion you could almost cry just looking at him.

"Would you like to hold her?" you ask softly, and Spencer's attention is once again on you. "Her?" he asks excitedly, smiling in a way that makes your heart ache with an overwhelming amount of love. Oh, how you missed him. "It's a girl?" You nod with a sad smile, looking down at her as she now lays asleep in your arms. "You can hold her, Spencer, it's okay," you say, noting his hesitance seeing as he still stood planted by the entrance, not having taken a single step closer.

Your encouragement fuels him, and he slowly makes his way inside the nursery until he's standing in front of you, looking down into the crook of your arm. From within the swaddle of blankets, he sees the little face; closed eyes, and a mouth that stays in a permanent pout with a button nose that scrunches adorably every now and then.

"Open your arms," you say, getting ready to hand her over, and he feels his heart beat frantically in anticipation. He almost feels lightheaded with anxiety and excitement, but he opens his arms, and carefully, you place her into his embrace. You watch attentively as he holds onto her securely, head bending down slightly so as to get a better look as he peers down at his daughter, still fast asleep in his arms.

He doesn't even register he's crying until he can feel your hand gently wiping at the stray tears on his cheeks. He looks over at you, brand new tears sitting idle in his waterline as everything finally sinks in for him. He was finally home with you and his daughter, his family, and he finally got to see you and hold you close to him.

In reality, he knew there was still so much left unsaid, and both of you had a long way to go from here, but right now, nothing else mattered. He was finally home, and in that moment, everything felt perfect.

[kirbmey]

⠀⠀ ཐི ˚̣̣̣ ⠀⠀ cockwarming w husband!sylus ⠀ ˚̣̣̣ ཋྀ

synopsis: school was too much, exams were the only thing you could think about and sylus wanted to help you relax and drift away ( 〃．．)

tw: smut but fluffy, sylus is so delicate with reader, cockwarming duh, mentions of size training, breeding, reader is babied, etc.

again you found yourself with both your elbows propped on top of the desk, reading and rereading every paragraph from the notes you took in class, the sentences mixing between each other.

you made sure your sleeping gown was already on, skincare already done and hair put together in two messy braids, telling yourself this was going to be the last day you’d stay up so late to study. well, you told yourself that yesterday too (*￣∀￣)

on the other hand, sylus was done with todays duties, sending luke and kieran off to some sneaky mission, unbuttoning his shirt as he walked towards your shared room. he knew you were stressed, and he knew you needed some aid from him since you were too fixated on getting the best grades. he told you several times that you didn’t need to study at all, that he could provide you for every lifetime, but you complied.

as he approached said room he noticed a faint warm light peeking through the gap under the door, sighing and entering silently, finding you almost asleep on top of your notes, the dinner plate he left you before heading to his office untouched.

he took off his belt, throwing it aside and got close to your smaller frame sitting in the big desk chair, caressing your messy hair as he leaned to leave small kisses along your cheek, taking in how you opened those pretty eyes he loved so much.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“kitten, how are you feeling?” he whispered against your skin, feeling the vibration of his low voice against your face. you stir, rubbing your eyes with a weak fist before straightening your back, looking up to him with a pout while nodding lazily.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“can’t study m’re, sy.” you blurred out, eyes almost tearing up because you wanted him to feel proud of you, to cherish every single perfect grade you pulled.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“that’s fine, princess, you did great, but you have to eat and get some sleep, hmm?” he coaxed you into his body by holding your hips and lifting you up, leaving you to rest on the comfort of your king sized bed and its silky sheets while he traveled to the kitchen to cook your favorite dish instead of the one he gave you hours ago.

after some minutes he went back with a tray, said dish resting on it with some chocolate to eat after, knowing that you needed something sweet after eating.

he sat next to you, caressing your cheek to gain your attention; you were mindlessly playing with the fabric of the sheets while waiting for your husband. you noticed how he spred his long and fit legs along the mattress, indicating you to sit on your favorite place, his lap.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“can we… y’know.” you voiced shyly after a few bites he hand fed you, expecting the classic teasing he always gave you. sylus knew you wanted him inside you, just to warm you up, something you two started practicing not so long ago to size train you, finding comfort in this along the way.

so he didn’t tease, knowing how tired your little brain was for anything at all, holding your hip with one big palm to make you momentarily stand up before pulling himself out off his dressing pants, cock soft at your sight.

your smaller hand tried reaching it to give him a few strokes, being stopped by the white haired man and looking at his crimson eyes, pupils heart-shaped as he did it himself, allowing you to sink on him at a really slow peace after putting your slightly wet cotton panties aside.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“there you go, good girl.” he encouraged you while you took him fully, his dick not entirely hard anyway. he then went back to feed you, cleaning up your mouth when it got dirty and bringing the glass of water to your lips when you where thirsty.

you finally finished the dish after long minutes; he didn’t really care about how much effort it took you, having the patience of a saint when it came to you. sylus put the tray aside on the table next to your shared bed, not forgetting about the chocolate he brought.

a cute smile crept up your juicy lips, opening your mouth when he fed it to you ounce by ounce, subtly sifting on his lap when he grew bigger inside you at the sight of your sleepy face enjoying the sweet.

sure, he should’ve brought you to the bathroom and wash your teeth after that, but how could he wake up the little bunny who fell asleep against his naked chest right after, quietly snoring and holding his opened shirt between week fingers?

he just comfortably sat down there, buried deep inside you, one huge hand massaging your nape while the other held a book, reading it while resting his chin on your head.

the way he slowly thrusted into you in the morning while licking your oh so sweet lips and filling you up after holding it in for the whole night is something i’ll keep private, though (シ_ _)

a/n: wanted to make this some daddy writing but I’m reserving that for zaynie (⇀ ‿ ↼ )

[cherryblossom-heart]

I hate you (7.5/?)

modern!Sukuna x Reader

The night that changed everything

Content Warning: Angst, Enemies to lovers, Sukuna is his own warning, Reader gets assaulted but it's not graphic, it goes more into her mental state Sexual content, slut shaming (both sides). This is a +18 post so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Reader gets assaulted but it's not graphic, it goes more into her mental state. If I catch any minor or ageless blog interacting with this series I will block you. Not proofread so sorry for any mistakes

W.C: 5.8K

A/N: Hi besties! Here we have the night they spent together. I hope you guys enjoy it!

<Previous Chapter. Next Chapter>

8:25 p.m.

“Are you sure we can’t just order takeout?”

Sukunas eyes met yours.

“No. We’re staying to eat.”

Sukuna was used to your insults. The oh so clever ways you found to call him an idiot, a manwhore, a joke. He was used to the rage you put behind your words whenever he found a way to get under your skin. He even was used to the physical violence you enforced against him, a small scar over his left eyebrow served as an amusing reminder of the time you threw a vase at his face for “accidentally” dropping hot sauce all over you before you went out with your friends. The three stitches his wound required had been worth it as soon as he saw you coming out of your room with a different dress, the amount of exposed skin turned down a notch.

Sukuna was used to receive and be the source of your rage. It was fun. It was entertaining. It was comfortable.

What Sukuna wasn’t used to was the emptiness behind your eyes. Ever since that night the spark he liked ignite was gone, almost as it had been sucked out of you. The memory of that night replayed constantly on his mind.

“Get the fuck of me!”

“I’m going to fucking kill you!”

A curling scream echoed in the alley behind the bar.

Sukunas heart rose to his throat. He couldn’t think straight, he couldn’t even remember where he had placed his keys or his gun, a kitchen knife in his hand as he had left his apartment in a rush. He hadn’t even bothered putting on shoes or a shirt, nothing more than just a pair of black sweatpants and desperation joined him as he ran through the dark streets of Tokyo.

Ryomen Sukuna was a man with many faults. Prone to anger. Sociopathic tendencies. Narcisism in its most pure form. He wasn’t a stranger to rage or violence but the wrath that rose in him the moment he heard your scream wasn’t of this world. Worlds could be burned just by the mere touch of the fire of his rage.

“Get off!”

The back door had been locked, probably by one bastard inside. His body smashed again and again against the door unsuccessfully, the metal bolt stopping him from wreaking havoc inside. You must’ve been close to the back door as he heard you calling for him.

“Sukuna!”

“Shut the fuck up, bitch!”

He heard the echo of a slap.

Tick

There had been few instances where Sukuna had blacked out because of anger. There had been one time when his little brother Jin had been pushed into a wall by a group of older kids, his head hitting the concrete.

That had been the first time Sukuna had ever been arrested.

The second time had happened more recently. He had been foolish, unprepared for betrayal. Jogo, a strange guy that he had dealt with in the past and a guy that claimed to be his ally, had tried to put a leash on him. He had dared to use his family and friends to control him, threatening everyone from Uraume to his little nephew Yuji. No one had found Jogo’s corpse yet.

This time had been different. Usually, he retained a couple of the memories of what had transpired, he remembered the screams of those kids, he remembered the look in Jogo’s eyes as life left his body. He remembered them begging, pleading him to stop.

This time he didn’t remember running to the front door, his body smashing against the glass of one of the shop windows making sharp little pieces of crystal collide against his skin, leaving trails of blood behind. He didn’t even remember feeling the same pieces of glass crunching under his bare feet, painfully digging in his skin.

He didn’t even remember your cries or screams, neither the silence his entrance had caused. The only thing he remembered was the image that welcomed him when he finally went through the kitchen doors. Three men were in the kitchen with you, pressing your body against the bar. Tears ran down your face as struggled against them, sheer panic plastered all over your face. He remembered how wide your eyes had been as one of the men pressed a blade against your neck, stopping Sukuna in his tracks.

He remembered your tears. He remembered your fear. He remembered your anger. He remembered the way you had grabbed a knife, stabbing them man that held you hostage in the side of his torso.

He didn’t wake up until your voice called his name once more, stopping him from his frenzy as his fist collided again and again against the man’s face. Your face was drenched covered in blood, purple and black spots already forming along your cheek. His knuckles were raw and broken, the man under him more likely than not dead. They didn’t hurt him as much as the pain the sight of your bruised face brought him.

“Sukuna…” your voice died on your lips.

His hands reached out to you and for the first time you had recoiled before he could even touch you.

He was going to kill them, all of them.

“Are you ready to order?” A feminine voice brought him out of his thoughts. A pretty waitress stood in front of them, her smile directed towards him.

“Two miso soups” He grunted.

Usually, his unfriendly demeanor was enough for people to leave him alone. Unfortunately, the waitress had been too focused on his physique to be deterred by his personality.

“Coming right up.” She said as she finished writing on her notebook. She pushed her short black hair behind her ears, a blush spreading through her face. “I like your tattoos”

“Mmm”

His eyes fell on his cellphone, hoping she would get the message.

She didn’t.

“I have a couple of them myself. I have two on my arm and one… well I couldn’t show you where the other one is.”

Any other day Sukuna would’ve taken the bait, even better with you watching. But when the corner of his eye caught you staring through the window, any sort of satisfaction left his body.

You weren’t even looking at him.

“Mmm”

He didn’t spare her a glance.

The waitress opened her mouth one last time, hoping that to at least get his attention.

“It’s nice of you to take your sister out to eat. Not a lot of brothers are this nice.”

Tick.

“What the fuck makes you think she’s my sister?”

The waitress had finally caught his indifference… a little too late.

“N-no, I’m sorry. I was just– “

“I know what the fuck you’re trying to do.” Sukuna cut her off, his eyes burning through the girls skull. “I don’t do desperate sluts, especially not the ones that whore themselves out when I already have company.”

“I-I’m sorry, I– “

“I don’t give a fuck about your apologies.” Sukunas eyes burned with fire, his fist hitting the table gathering everyone’s attention. “What makes you think I, let alone anyone in this restaurant with functioning eyes and a sense of smell, would even touch you? You think an ugly, desperate, fish smelling skank like you can–”

Your hand reached to his “Enough.”

A battle of stares ensued. Carmin eyes stared at yours, the anger they carried could’ve made even the strongest man shiver under them. Not you. Never you. Not even when yours where void of any emotion.

As always, you won.

“Go. Ask another waitress to bring our food.” You told the girl, eyes still focused on him. “I already have enough fish in my soup.”

Sukuna chuckled.

A few moments later two steaming bowls of miso were dropped off at your table by a male waiter.

“I don’t like miso soup.” You broke the silence.

“Lie. You don’t like porridge.”

“How do you even know that?”

For a second, Sukunas heart began racing, an annoying habit it had acquired for the past few months.

“I know everything you hate just in case I have to use it.”

“Asshole.”

He brought the white bowl to his lips, the savory taste of the broth lingering on his mouth. He had never considered himself well-mannered so it wasn’t a surprise when mere seconds later, the bowl was emptied from any liquid.

Yours, on the other hand, remained intact. Your eyes had gone back to the window, thoughts lost so far Sukuna couldn’t decipher them. The dark circles below them were poorly concealed, the darker tone crashing against whatever makeup product you were using to cover them.

“Brat.”

You didn’t turn to him, but he knew you were listening.

“Eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” You mumbled.

Tick

Sukunas laugh filled the air, his head pulled back as he rubbed his eyes. Your head finally snapped to his direction, eyebrows furrowing with frustration the longer his laugh continued.

Thirty seconds was all it took for your patience to run out.

“What’s so funny?”

He took a deep breath, his hand holding his stomach as the pain from laughing too much took over his abdomen.

“You.”

You scoffed “What about me?”

Sukunas smile widened with the cockiness that’s characterized him.

“I never took you for a weakling.”

Your jaw hardened, teeth grinding so hard he could almost hear your enamel disintegrating itself away.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Fire.

Scalding, raging fire. Your eyes opened wide, burning everything on their path.

Sukunas skin filled with goosebumps.

“You’re going to let a couple of fat, weak, disgusting pigs beat you?”

Your breathing hitched before your hands turned into fists.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He leaned in.

“All I see is someone who’s letting herself be controlled. Look at yourself.” His eyes traveled along your face and your clothes, earning yourself an eye roll. “You’re starving yourself away, not sleeping, pretending you're fine as if nothing happened or at least trying to. They couldn’t hurt your body but you’re letting them kill away your mind?”

His words weakened your anger, your eyes watering a second later. Sukunas chest ached uncomfortably, as his mind told him to turn away from the source of his pain. He hated it. He wanted it gone. Whatever strange concoction of feelings you brought was foreign to him, but it was powerful enough to make him lose focus.

“You want to prove me wrong?”

He didn’t give you time to answer.

“Eat. Now.”

10:17 p.m.

“What are we doing here?”

Sukunas foot stepped on the rear brake making the motorcycle coming to a stop. He parked a couple of streets away, making you both walk until you reached a small white house in the outskirts of Tokyo.

You both walked to the white mid-size sedan parked outsides, making your way to the driver’s door. Your hands stopped him when he took off his jacket and wrapped it around his elbow

“What the fuck Sukuna? You’re going to get us arrested.”

“Not if you shut the fuck up.” He whispered, shaking your hand off. “You don’t remember this car, do you?”

Your eyes scanned the vehicle, looking through the window for any clues. Once your eyes landed on the driver seat where a chocolate axe body spray laid, they lit up with recognition and disgust.

“Daichi? My ex-manager?”

He tied one last knot.

“Remember the scrap yard Uraume and I used to hang out around when we were kids?”

“Yeah?”

He threw his keys at you, barely giving you time to catch them.

“Take my bike and meet me there.”

You stood there frozen as you processed what he said but Sukuna didn’t have time to wait for your brain to finally start working.

“Go! Now!”

His elbow crashed against the crystal, shattering everything on its path. The alarm went off, finally snapping you out of it. It didn’t take him longer than 3 minutes to silence the alarm and have the vehicle up and running. After years of experience taking bigger and better vehicles, a 2005 dodge wasn’t going to be a problem, it had almost been boring. You were long gone once the porch lights turned on, the echo of his bike speeding away filling the streets instead.

A short man with dark hair and an overhanging stomach came out screaming, a broomstick in his hands. Sukuna’s right foot dug in the gas pedal leaving the smell of burnt tire’s behind as his middle finger stuck out of the window.

10:41 p.m.

 The rubble pathway to the boneyard made Sukuna remember why he preferred his bike over a constricted, heavy, metal box. Every rock sent the stability of the vehicle out the window making it seem as he was using the car to swim against the current, the two sixpacks of beer clashing against each other in the back.

Five minutes later he finally found you, his bike resting next to a torn down SUV as you paced back and forth. He didn’t had time to get both feet out of the car before you came to face him.

“What the fuck?” You yelled; your breathing heavy as your hands shook. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

Perfect, he thought to himself.

“Out of the way, slut.”

You scoffed, not before closing the door on him. The door collided against his hand and the brewing anger only you could pull out of him came to surface. His first instinct was to grab you by the throat, wishing nothing more than throwing you to the ground. Instead, he smashed the door closed as the back of his mind pleaded him not to upset you.

Upset you.

Since when did he care?

Throughout the years he had never cared for your emotions other than your anger. Your anger has always been the prime source of his entertainment, the things he had said, the things he had done, all for his own sake. He had pulled tears from your eyes, he had hurt you emotionally and sometimes physically just to pull a good laugh from himself.

He didn’t care about you.

But why did your tears haunt his dreams ever since that night?

“You’re fucking insane! We could get arrested!”

He scoffed, opening the passenger door. “Calm your tits, brat. No one is getting arrested.”

“You fucking calm your tits when I tear your head off for sending me to prison.” You turned away from him.

He took out the packs of beer along with a metal bat he had paid the liquor store owner for. He cracked open a can, the shaking of the car taking effect in the drink making it explode as soon as he opened it.

Sukuna welcomed the bitter taste of the liquor, anything that could distract him from the nuisance your presence brought him.

 “Here.” He placed a metal bat in your hands.

“What am I supposed to with this?”

“Hit the car.” Sukuna said as if it was obvious.

“What?” You looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “No, what the hell?”

“Hit the fucking car.”

You pushed the bat back to his chest, forcing him to hold it. “I’m not hitting the fucking car, idiot.”

“Alright, if you’re not hitting the car then you have to admit you’re not ok.”

“What?”

Your tone hardened and he could almost see the walls building themselves back up.

“You heard me.” Sukuna repeated, opening a new can as he crushed the first one. “Hit the car or tell the truth.”

“I’m not doing shit.” You turned to his bike, your hands digging in your pockets.

Sukuna pulled you back by the arm, his hand snatching his keys out of your fingers.

“You’re not going anywhere until you either beat the shit out of this car or you fucking tell the truth.”

You tried to pull yourself free, but his grip was made from steel.

“Let me go”

“Make me.” 

His eyes wondered down your face, staying on your lips for only a quarter of a second. You moved yourself closer to him and for a moment Sukuna thought you might kiss him. His body unconsciously filled with anticipation, only to have you snatch the bat out of his hands.

Hard, heavy footsteps carried you away until you reached the front of the car. You got into position, your hands gripping the handle so tightly he thought you might hurt yourself. You looked back at him one last time, only turning once he gave you a small nod.

Smash.

“Again.” He barked. Sukuna had expected you to fight back but the sound of the metal colliding against metal surprised him.

Smash.

“Again.”

Smash

“Again.”

Smash

“Fuck your job.” You yelled, your voice cracking in the last word.

Smash

“Fuck your pathetic life.”

Smash

“Fuck you, you mother fucking abortion looking like bastard!”

Smash

“Fuck you!

Fuck you!

Fuck you!”

Your angry screams had turned into wails, each one more painful than the other. The more you hit the car the faster your façade fell, showing him every dark thought you had forcefully hidden away from everyone. His heart began pounding against his chest, his own heartbeat deafening him from your suffering.

Something unexpected happened to Sukuna that night.

Physical touch for him mostly meant sex, or at least with the intention to end in sex. Sukuna was rough edges and violence; kindness and tenderness were never part of vocabulary and he preferred it that way. Why would he spend time in something he never saw a useful purpose for? Love meant weakness, and weakness was dangerous for men like him.

If love was useless to Sukuna, then why did he reach out for you? Why did he pulled the bat away, throwing it to the side as his arms wrapped around you? Why did he pushed your face to his chest, hoping his shirt would wipe your tears away so he wouldn’t have to see them?

“Stop it!” You fought back. “Let me go. Let me fucking go!”

He didn’t budge.

Eventually you wrapped your arms around him, holding onto him like he was your lifesaver. He could tell you were still struggling, fighting with everything in you to keep the tears inside. Even after finally breaking apart you still tried to find strength to not collapse.

He liked that about you, even if he would never admit it. Not even to himself.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You asked as you pulled back from his embrace, but his arms wouldn’t release you. “Why do you care?”

Sukuna was left speechless for the first time in his life.

What was he even trying to get out of this? Didn’t he hate you? With everything that had happened between you, why did he go out of his way to help you and expected nothing in return?

“I don’t know.” He finally answered. Red, slightly swollen eyes looked back at him and the pain in his chest intensified. “All I know is I don’t like seeing you like this.”

He would destroy worlds to erase the sadness behind your eyes.

11:03 p.m.

“Isn’t it weird we’ve known each other for almost a decade, and this is the first time we’ve actually hung out? Outside of sex of course.”

“Don’t get used to it.” He said as he drank the last sip of the last beer.

A mountain of smashed cans rested beside him as you both laid down in the hood of the now broken up car with the word “Rapist” scratched up in all sides. Both your jackets laid below you to protect you from the coldness of the metal as you looked at the dark sky.

“Why do you think that is?”

 He looked at you, laying on your back and staring at the stars, your eyes finally lost in something else other than the darkness in your head. He could almost see the real you again.

“Because you’re a pain in the ass.”

You laughed.

“Yeah well, you’re not a spring breeze yourself.” You countered asclosed your eyes, a smile adorning your face.

Sukunas hand itched with the need to touch you, almost as if it had a mind of his own. This wouldn’t have bothered him as much if what he wanted to touch were your breasts or reach for that sweet spot between your legs, he would even be ok if it was your thighs, the soft sensitive skin along them always calling for him.

Instead, he wanted to reach for your face, trace along the path of your tears all the way down to your lips. He wanted to reach out for your hand, figure out if entwining his fingers with yours would be as great as he pictured in his imagination.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” You said with a smirk.

He was glad your eyes were still closed, or you would’ve seen the slight blush crossing his face.

“As if, brat. I would go blind if I looked at you for too long.”

You scoffed. “Then why haven’t you? I see you looking at me all the time.”

His brain froze, his heart missing a heartbeat.

“Keep it up and I might think you actually like me, pretty boy.”

“I haven’t reached rock bottom yet. Maybe then you might have a chance.”

“Asshole.” You mumbled.

Sukuna laid back down on the car as he forced his heart to stop beating so fast. He wasn’t wrong when he said you were a pain in the ass, especially now that he couldn’t even control his body.

“I know that you burned down the store I used to work in.”

He didn’t answer, unsure on why you were bringing it up.

“Why did you do it?”

Another thing he wasn’t sure of. Somehow, when it came to you, he wasn’t sure of a lot of things.

He couldn’t tell you that, though.

“As much as I hate you, you’re Uraume’s sister.” He took a deep breath, hoping his lie would be believable enough. “They’re like family to me.”

“So, I’m like family to you too?”

“No.” He answered too fast for his liking. “You’re more like a pebble in my shoe that for some reason Uraume loves.”

“Is that the only reason why you did it?” You kept questioning to his dismay.

Did you know? There was no way you could know, right?

“Why else would I do it? You’re my friends annoying little sister and a slut I’ve fucked a couple of times; there’s nothing more to it.”

His words seemed to end the discussion, but he had his own questions brewing.

“Are you planning on telling Uraume?”

He felt your body tense up.

“No. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“I–“ you cut yourself off, searching for the right words. “I don’t want them in all of this. Want it or not, you killed a guy, Sukuna. I might have too, we don’t know.”

“I handled it.” He interjected but that wasn’t enough for you.

“It doesn’t matter.” You turned to your side, facing him. “If I tell Uraume two things could happen and both of them end with them going to prison.”

“You don’t give them enough credit if you think Uraume would get caught.”

“It’s not about that, Sukuna. If I can stop them from getting in more trouble than they already are, I’ll do it.”

Even if it didn’t make sense to him, he could understand the thought process behind it. He didn’t know how aware you were of the “business” him and Uraume dealt with, or how deep in the neck they were. But he understood your desire to protect them even if they had committed far worse crimes.

And with that a thought popped in his head.

“You not being able to sleep… is it because I killed that guy in front of you?”

“No. Well– not in the way you think.”

He gave you a look, telling you to continue.

“When you killed that guy… I didn’t feel sad or scared.” You took a deep breath. “I-I felt relieved, so fucking relieved. It was almost like I enjoyed it, which I guess it makes sense with all things considered but–”

You hesitated, and Sukuna could sense the silent battle you were having over whether to speak or not.

"I was angry too. I was angry I didn’t kill him myself. I was angry I couldn’t see his eyes drain of life and… I was angry I wouldn’t be the last thing he saw when he died.”

Sukuna could sense the shame in your words, the guilt of your feelings filling you again. He wanted to reach out to you, engulf you in a tight embrace again but he stopped himself from it.

“You… you think that makes me a monster?” You asked.

He wiped away a lonely tear that fell from your left eye.

“I know monsters and you’re not one of them. You’re just human.”

 “Yeah, a fucked up one.”

“Not as fucked up as me, right?” He shrugged.

You chuckled at his words. “Yeah, that bit is true.”

In a surprising move from your part, your fingers found his hand as you entwined them with his. Your warmth invading Sukunas senses as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

“Thanks.” You whispered. “For all of this.”

He could only bring himself to say one word.

“Sure.”

12:38 a.m.

“How are we going to get in? I don’t even have the right clothes.”

“Shut it. I know a way.”

After asking to go somewhere different, Sukuna wanted to know what you had in mind. When you said dancing, it was obvious it wasn’t what he had hoped for. He had hoped your idea of somewhere different would be his apartment, particularly his bed but he wasn’t too picky with the surface.

Instead he found himself guiding you through an alley behind The Underworld, a popular night club in the middle of Tokyo. After he found the back door he looked on windows near the backroom, finding one of them unlatched. He pulled it open, moving to the side as he waited for you to jump in.

“You’re not really serious, are you?” You asked incredulously.

“You in or not?”

You looked through the alley, searching for any unwanted spectator. After finding nothing, you rolled your eyes before walking to him “Fine, whatever.”

Both of you came out of the backroom, Sukuna guiding you both to the employees only resting area with a door that guided to the bar area. Darkness barely lit up by strobe lights and a couple of ambiance light welcomed you as soon as you crossed the door. The bass music hit your bodies through the air, each low down filtering through your bones.

You were clearly underdressed, both of you wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, his only possible salvation the black leather jacket he carried most places. Theres was nothing to worry though, the darkness in the club were enough to cover you from everyone else’s eyes.

Passing next to the bar, Sukuna managed to swipe a bottle some poor bartender had left unattended, rushing you to the other side of the establishment. You took charge once you were at a safe distance, guiding him to the middle of the dance floor. Red, purple and blue lights hit you in the face and he thought he had never seen anyone as majestic.

Every thought he had of you confused him, some of them even sending him to a panic, but he also knew he enjoyed them. He enjoyed the fire you once again carried inside you, the way your eyebrows furrowed whenever he would spout hateful names towards you, or the way your eyes crinkle when he had pissed you off too much.

He liked the way your lips moaned his name when he fucked you silly.

You had started dancing, arms in the air as you swayed your hips. Of course, you also danced like a slut, hypnotizing him as you enjoyed the music. He took a sip of the vodka bottle he carried, his carnal instincts taking over finally. It had been almost too long since the last time he had felt you around his cock and now that you were here, he wanted nothing more than taking you to the bathroom and make you scream his name.

He stalked you, like a predator waiting to catch his prey, anticipation overfilling him the longer you kept your eyes closed. You lifted your arms a little too high, revealing to him the black laced thong you were wearing.

He lost control.

Sukuna spun you around, grabbing your hips between his hands. You had gasped when he had grabbed you, but once you recognized him you went back to your dancing, hips now moving along with his touch. Your ass pressed against his crotch, effectively springing up his cock as soon as he felt your warmth. His hands wondered up your body, squeezing your tits on the way up to your neck, pushing you more against him.

He didn’t care if everyone could see you and for the way you looked at him, neither did you. Somehow his brain had been taken over by his basic instincts, his body craving more and more like a thirsty animal. Your eyes traveled down to his lips as you leaned in close enough for him to almost taste you.

Finally, after so long.

However, you pulled away, a sultry smirk on your lips.

“Can you go get a glass with ice? I like my vodka cold.”

He was going to fucking kill you. He tried grabbing you but you scaped his touch, your smile getting wider.

“Nuh huh, ice first.”

Fucking bitch.

Sukuna scoffed as he turned away, trying to find a table where to swipe the glass with ice so he could go back and put you in your place. With the corner of his eye he could see you looking at him, still dancing in the middle of the floor. You were riling him up, the playful look in your eyes telling him you wanted him too. Fine, he would play your game if you accepted the consequences.

After what it seemed like the hundredth table, he finally got the stupid glass filled with ice. He turned around, ready to make his way up to you but the sight of you pushing a guy away stopped him in his tracks.

Tick

He threw the bottle along with the cup, the people surrounding him complaining as they got splashed. Sukuna made his way to you, pushing people to both side to get them out of the way. Your jaw was tightened as you backed away from the guy.

The unknown man didn’t see it coming, two hands grabbing him by the shirt and smashing him against the wall, Sukunas body and strength caging him in a dangerous position.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You yelled in the guys face.

“I–I’m sorry, I–“ The man tried to explain but his words were met with another shove, leaving his lungs without air.

Sukuna pulled out a knife he kept with himself at all times, the spade blade touching the guys neck.

“I’m going to fucking kill you for touching her.”

Whatever pathetic words he was about to plead with died in his throat as you called for Sukuna’s attention.

“Stop it.” You pulled on his shoulder.

Sukuna pressed the guys neck more, surely blocking his airways. He would’ve kept going if it wasn’t for the second pull you gave him, this time strong enough to move him. He released the man, the later collapsing to the floor.

“Let’s go.” He said as pulled you by your hand. You were about to say something when a couple of tall, well built men stopped you in your tracks. They had to be the bouncers.

“You’re going to have to go with me, kids.”

Sukuna laughed. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll beat you up in front of your girlfriend.”

He gave you a look with the corner of his eye, your eyes wide and open. At first he thought you were scared of the confrontation, he found that thought deeply offensive, as if he couldn’t take a couple of old, wasted, meatheads. But once he saw the way your lips commissure raised, he recognized the look you gave him.

You were having fun.

“Run!”

Your fingers laced with his as you pulled him forward.

Sukuna had to give it to you, when it came to running no one could beat you. Ever since you were kids it had always been a bitch to play with you. Somehow even at eight years old you had figured out how to turn into Usain Bolt, your little legs driving you too far for him to catch you.

You swerved through the sea of people, pushing some of them on your way as you tried to put as many obstacles between the men and you. Your escape was cut short by a big man jumping on your way, trying to catch you in his arms. Sukunas heart raced as he saw you almost getting caught so he smashed himself against the man, pushing both of them to the floor. You looked in shock as the chairs flew out of the way, hitting many people on their path.

“Go!” He yelled at you before standing up, pulling you with him.

You ran past the doors, jumping over the crowd control rope so you both run down the street towards Sukunas bike. Four men were now on your persuit, their footsteps heavy and slow compared to yours.

“Get back here, fuckers!” One of them yelled once you were too far away to be caught.

Both of you hopped on his bike, leaving tire smoke and stains behind as he raced through the empty streets in Tokyo.

“I can’t believe we did that!” You cheered as you held onto him.

“I forgot you turn into Usain Bolt when you run.”

You chuckled. “Shut up.”

Sukuna felt the weight of your head on his back as your arms grew tights around him. You took a deep breath, almost as if you were inhaling his scent, before liberating the air, your body relaxing against his.

“I think I’m ready to go home.”

His heart dropped down, he assumed because he could not get laid tonight, having played along you game for nothing. That must be why, he told himself. Except the back of his brain already craved your presence even if you were still next to him.

“Alright.” Was his only response.

It didn’t matter anyways, he would get his chance another day.

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated! Feel free to message me about it.

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[dahlibae]

FEEL MY LOVE.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

(wanda maximoff x fem!reader)

summary — Your Wanda’s first relationship since her divorce.

warning(s) — drabble: age gap, fluff, friends to lovers, kisses, smut, they’re so soft, finger sucking, cunnilingus, love confession! (18+)

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Wanda had never expected to find love again, much less with a woman. After the emotional turmoil of her divorce, she’d resigned herself to the idea that her days of romance were behind her. But then there was you—bright, kind, and effortlessly charming. You came into her life like a warm breeze, reminding her of what it felt like to laugh, to cry, to love.

At first, she was hesitant. Her feelings confused her, having never felt this way for another woman before. She wasn’t sure if it was simply the thrill of something new or something deeper. After all, you had started off as friends. Good friends. You had moved to Westview after a job relocation and your daughter had been enrolled at the same school as Wanda’s boys. They all took to each other immediately, and your daughter rushed home after school to tell you about her new friends who had invited her over to play.

But when Wanda caught herself staring at you during your shared morning coffee runs, your early morning drop offs, your shared grocery runs, smiling at the way you crinkled your nose when you laughed, she knew it was real.

She had fallen in love.

Your first kiss was in her kitchen. She’d invited you over for dinner—a recipe she nervously perfected the entire week—and as you helped her clean up, your hands brushed hers while drying a plate. The moment lingered, and before either of you knew it, you both leaned in. Her lips, soft as ever, and her breath warm against yours.

She pulled back first, her cheeks flushed.

"Too soon?" She questioned shyly, her hands trembling slightly.

“Not soon enough.” You replied, soothing the older woman’s nerve by leaning in for another kiss, dishes left in the sink as you wrapped your arms around her waist.

From that moment, the two of you were inseparable—like lovesick teenagers discovering the thrill of romance. Wanda would eagerly invite you and your daughter over for cozy family movie nights. The evenings would start with the kids taking charge of the remote, their excited voices filling the room as they insisted on watching their favourite shows. Eventually, their energy would fade, and they’d fall asleep in a blanket fortress they’d built in the living room.

With the children settled, you and Wanda would quietly retreat upstairs to enjoy movies of your own. You quickly learned that she had an undeniable love for old sitcoms, far more than their modern counterparts. She’d sit close to you on the bed, the flickering screen casting a warm glow over the room. Inevitably, her head would find its place on your shoulder, and you’d tease her about knowing every line by heart.

She’d respond with a playful elbow to your side, her laughter soft and contagious.

“You’re just mad I’m not giving you attention.” She’d tease, her voice low and affectionate as she leaned closer. Her face would hover near yours, her lips curving into a smile before she pressed a series of gentle, lingering kisses to your lips.

“You’re so beautiful.” You’d admit. Her long brunette curls falling around you as she beamed down at you. Her mouth pressed kisses all over your face, but you sought out her lips, craving the taste of her, immediately opening your mouth for the brush of her tongue. You were warm, heavy and satisfied, but as your hands roamed her body, taking in every inch of cream skin and smooth curves through her pyjamas, that warmth began burned deep within. Taking her hands in yours, you kissed across her veins; lips weaving a delicate pattern over smooth skin from wrist to the tips of fingers. Once there, you allowed your tongue to push past your lips and take her soaked digits into your mouth.

A small gasp fell from her mouth as you released her to pull her lips back on yours, “Please, Wanda.”

And with that, she fell sideways, pulling you to drape over her lean frame. The most beautiful thing in the world. Her hands—large, but steady—pressed gently against your back, anchoring you against her. The scent of her shampoo, something faintly citrus yet floral, drifted up to you, grounding you in the here and now.

Her fingers rose to brush lightly against your jawline, “What is it, baby?”

You pressed closer to her, unable to answer, as your lips fell upon hers, hands reaching for the fabric between you. She immediately understood, nodding her head quickly before unlatching her arms from around you to pull her pyjamas off. She was left clad in her panties as she helped take yours off too, desperate to pull you back over her. Her leg slipped between yours, and the friction sent sparks through you, a gasp tumbling from your lips.

She smiled against your mouth, her dark eyes glowing with something raw, unspoken, and utterly consuming.

“I’ve always wanted you like this.” She murmured, her voice barely audible.

You pulled back just enough to look at her, the light catching on the subtle curves of her face, her flushed cheeks, her slightly swollen lips. You ran your fingers through her curls, letting them tumble through your hands like silk, and whispered back, “You don’t know how long I’ve needed you.”

Her hands cradled your face now, thumbs brushing the corners of your mouth, her touch both grounding and electric.

“You have me.” She whispered, her tone leaving no room for doubt, her gaze locked on yours like an unbreakable tether.

You kissed your way down her body, her thighs spread wide, her sex swollen, wet, and glistening with desire through her damp panties. You discarded the offending fabric before slowly parting her lips, watching as she pulsed under your touch, every movement of your fingers drawing soft whimpers from her. Her moans deepened as your tongue traced a path from her entrance to the sensitive bundle of nerves at her core. You paused just long enough to let the anticipation build before settling on the side of her clit, your tongue lapping in slow, deliberate strokes. Your hands slid beneath her thighs, anchoring her as her fingers tangled in your curls, gripping tighter with every wave of pleasure that coursed through her. Her breath hitched, her body arching toward your mouth as you devoured her with unrelenting focus.

“Fuck.” You heard her gasp, unable to catch her breath, as her hips began to rock into you, close to falling over the edge. Her whines became moans, and teeth clamped down on her swollen lips, trying to keep quiet. One last flick of your tongue, and she fell over the edge, walls contracting as she rocked into your face, riding out the rest of her orgasm as you held your tongue still against her.

“Baby.” She called for you, fingers brushing yours as she led you back up her body and to her swollen lips, sharing her sweet taste. “My baby.” She whispered, eyes fluttering open, half-lidded and glazed.

You giggled at the sight of the usually reserved woman, to which she replied with a head tilt, “What?”

“Nothing,” you replied, “I just…love you.” The words left you before you could second-guess them, before you could talk yourself out of it.

Her fingers stroked against your cheek, guiding you back down to place a soft kiss to your lips, before detouring as she loudly kissed against your entire face.

You squealed rather childishly, not bothering to fight her attack, knowing you couldn’t stop her even if you tried. But for a moment, she just looked at you, her eyes searching yours, and you wondered what she saw there—if she saw the way your heart was practically beating out of your chest, the way your entire body felt like it's caught in a storm. Then, without warning, she leaned in, pressing her lips to yours in another kiss so fierce, so consuming, it left you breathless.

“I love you too.” She said, and there was no hesitation, no doubt.

Just the truth, as raw and beautiful as she was.

[annievrse]

rumour has it!

trafalgar law x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic

summary: rumour has it that the surgeon of death is your boyfriend... w/c: 5.3k c/w: suggestive, secret relationship, reader wears a dress, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns.

The sun is just moments off dipping behind the horizon, the pink and orange hues meshing into subtle indigo. Since leaving the previous island, the air has been humid and sticky, but the slight breeze drifting through the Grand Line is refreshing. 

The inside of the girls' quarters smells of vanilla, salt, and Robin's rosewater incense. The waves crash against the side of the ship, seaspray making its way through the ajar porthole, and you're sure Nami will scold you for leaving it open, but you're far from caring now.

The cotton sheets of your bed, a present from Robin for your birthday, are soft on your legs as you turn over for the nth time in ten minutes. You wouldn't call your current state one of grief, since he is still alive, but the rawness of your throat and the deep ache in your chest makes it seem so.

Skipping dinners and chores was enough for Nami and Robin to know there was something wrong, but you've been holed up in the room since departing the last island, and now they're positive this is more than just feeling sick.

The door slams against the wall when Nami kicks it open, a scowl on her features as she stomps over to you and rips the sheets off. You whine at the loss of cover, your body curling further in on itself as you shove your face into your pillow.

"Leave me alone."

Nami scoffs. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nami—“

"We're worried about you," Robin's soft voice comes from the doorway. "You've never skipped out on your chores for this long before."

Shaking your head, you squeeze your eyes shut. No words leave your lips, and Nami and Robin share a concerned glance.

"Come on, dinner's ready. The crew's been waiting for you to join."

You sniffle and swallow thickly, remaining unresponsive to their words. If you were to tell them it feels as though your heart is going to explode and your limbs are lethargic because of a man, you fear they'd laugh at you.

"Has that window been open this whole time?—"

Robin says your name softly, abruptly cutting Nami off. "Please?"

You've always thought of the archaeologist as an older sister of sorts, so when she gives you an encouraging smile and a hand to take, you give in. Robin's always been more understanding than Nami, but you wouldn't trade either of them for the world.

"If this is about that rumour..."

You ignore her, your skin ablaze with apprehension at Nami's implication. The fresh air of the deck hits you in the face, and joyful screams and laughter from the galley have your stomach churning with anxiety.

"We understand if you don't want to talk about it, we know that rumours can get out of hand sometimes."

Your eyes remain on the floor while your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You're feet away from the kitchen door, and you resist the urge to run in the opposite direction.

"Seriously," Nami says, an easy laugh falling from her lips. "You can tell us anything, you know that."

Guilt bubbles under your skin, and you feel disgusted with yourself for feeling like you couldn't confide in them. You open your mouth to reply when a sharp gasp cuts you off.

"You're here!" Luffy exclaims, his contagious giggles making your lips turn upwards for the first time in a week. "I missed you!"

Suddenly, limbs are wrapped around you, and Luffy's grin presses against your cheek.

"I missed you, too," You smile and lean your head on his shoulder.

"Are you hungry?" Luffy asks, unwrapping himself from your torso. "Sanji cooked up a feast!"

And he isn't exaggerating. The cook stands before you, his eyes wide with concern as he takes your hand. "I made your favourites, mon amour."

You nod as you take in the platters and towers of food splayed on the long dining table. Brook, Franky, Jimbe, and Chopper sit on one side, and Usopp and Zoro sit on the other, all giving you reassuring smiles as you greet them.

"Thank you, Sanji."

"Anything for you, my angel!"

You take a seat beside Zoro and Luffy slides in next to you. "Let's eat!"

Dinner is as chaotic as usual, and in the week you've been hiding in your room, you've come to miss the disordered affair. Mountains of different dishes are piled onto your plate, thanks to Luffy, as Zoro pours sake into your mug. You won't be drinking tonight, but the thought that Zoro wants to share his beloved drink with you has your heart growing with warmth.

You pick up your fork and stab a piece of grilled broccoli. The flavour melts on your tongue as you chew, your gaze scanning your crewmates as they continue with their normal dinner conversations.

"So is it true?"

The room goes silent, and the only sound is the clink of Chopper's hoof on Brook's humourous. You stare into the voids of his eye sockets and swallow quickly to avoid choking on the vegetable.

"Wrong thing to say?"

Nami is the first to growl as she stands. "Yes, idiot!"

The rest of the crew groans and throws their assaults at the skeleton before he cries out.

"Okay! Okay, I'm sorry," Brook winces, his hands up in defence. "If I had a heart it would be full of remorse right now."

His usual gag makes you exhale a short laugh and the crew visibly relaxes.

"I'm fine, guys," You sigh. "I'm not going to break."

"So, Traffy, huh?" Zoro is amused, and when you look at him, he raises an eyebrow. "What? It's what we're all thinking."

"He's not wrong," Franky pipes up. "Rumour has it you're together."

"Who knew you two were such gossip?" Robin quips, a mug of tea held up to her lips. "Where'd you hear this so-called rumour?"

"Around," Usopp says, evading answering with a proper response.

"It's not true though, right?" Franky asks.

You shake your head immediately, stomach souring. "How would it be? I haven't seen that guy in forever, let alone be in a relationship with him."

"That's what I said!" Nami exclaims, slamming her hands on the wooden table. "I think I would know if my best friend had a boyfriend, especially if it were Traffy."

As the crew start discussing who they think started the rumour, you sit quietly. There's no telling who or how the rumour started, and you'd rather not think about it.

The article in the newspaper had been published a month ago, and to say it had caused waves was an understatement. With you and Law on two separate, infamous pirate crews, it was bound to affect civilians and pirates alike. The thought of the Heart Pirates and the Strawhats allying again had the world on edge, and if it was because of something as fragile as love, then it would be problematic for both sides.

You pick at your plate with no appetite. There are eyes on you from across the table, but you ignore Robin and continue moving food around with your fork. She can think all she likes, and so can the remainder of the crew, but you're not giving up your most vulnerable secret that easy; especially when the rest of the world thinks the same.

—

You have to tread lightly. Above you, a monthly meeting between the Kid Pirates, the Strawhats, and the Heart Pirates is taking place.

Nami rushes around the girls' quarters for a map she forgot before she stops and sees you at your desk. Various pens and papers are sprawled on the surface, and Nami wonders what you're writing. However, she doesn't press and scolds you instead.

"You're meant to be upstairs."

You groan and spin in the chair. "I'm busy."

Nami rolls her eyes. "Come on. This is important."

"Can't you just relay it to me when it's done?"

The newspaper and the rumour have been long forgotten. It's been two months since the dinner and a month and a half since the crew dropped the gossip, and you've been back to your old self. Nami's grateful that you're no longer affected by it, but there's something about the way your wrist flicks the pen on the page that has her suspicions surfacing again.

You mumble something she can't hear and stand. Nami furrows her eyebrows when she sees the state of you—you wear one of your nicer dresses and your eyelashes seem fuller, longer. She doesn't question it, but her mind circles back to the months-old rumour.

The walk upstairs and onto the deck is a tense one, and you feel the excitement of seeing Law swirl in your stomach. It's been a while since you've seen him, and him you, so, when the sun warms your skin and the heads of all three captains turn to the creaking door, you smile.

"Hi, everyone!" You say. "Sorry, I'm late."

Luffy brushes off your apology and grins while he tells you to sit with the crew. There are multiple sets of eyes on you, but only one makes your nerves dance.

You find a spot beside Chopper and face the other crews. The silence of your arrival slowly dissipates as the pirates start chattering again. You sigh deeply and scan the crowd. A familiar polar bear catches your attention, and you wave when Bepo meets your gaze.

The mink greets you with a warm smile, one that never fails to lighten your mood, as he nudges Penguin beside him. The pirate rubs his bicep before he realises what Bepo is saying, and then he grins, promptly whacking Shachi while doing so. It's a chain reaction, and soon, all of the Heart Pirates are waving at you from across the deck.

The more you think about it, the more the reason why the rumour was started becomes clear; you're not subtle.

Ikkaku almost squeals when she sees you, and soon she's crossing the grass to squeeze between you and Chopper.

"I've missed you," She whispers, throwing her arm over your shoulders. Chopper looks at her curiously, his head tilting as the cogs in his mind turn.

Sure, you've always been friendly with the Heart Pirates, but that's because you hailed from the same island as Law, Penguin, Bepo, and Shachi before you landed yourself in the East Blue. Simple. Definitely not because you're in love with their captain and have been for the past ten years of your life...

You refuse to think about the fact that you haven't told your crew yet, though, you're confused as to how they couldn't know. Sabaody, Punk Hazard, Dressrosa, Zou, Wano... on all islands, you were attached at the hip despite trying your best to remain indifferent toward each other.

Maybe your downfall was hoping that they could figure it out themselves.

"Strawhat." His timbre is low, one you've heard countless times yet it never fails to give you goosebumps, even on the hottest of days.

"Traffy." Your captain laughs.

"May I talk to your seamstress for a minute?"

The crews fall quiet once more, and the air is thick with anticipation. A legion of owlish eyes set their sights on you, and you shift with discomfort.

Luffy nods and waves his hand in your direction. "Go ahead."

Ikkaku pats your knee before she stands and you watch her skip back to her spot beside Shachi. Law gives you an expectant look and nods his chin toward the Polar Tang.

A low whistle behind you makes you freeze and you glance at Zoro. He shrugs at your raised eyebrows, and smirks. He may not seem to be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but you know he's onto you, and from the looks the rest of your crew throw you, you know they are too.

You brush them off with a flick of your wrist and follow Law to the edge of the Sunny. He's quick to shamble you onto the Tang and lead you inside.

Once the air-tight door is shut, you release your breath.

"You okay?"

Nodding, you take a step toward him. Law watches you intently, his own shoulders relaxing.

"Come 'ere," Law mumbles, tugging you against him. You smile into his chest, your hands splayed across his back. "Missed you."

You look up at him, a smile on your lips. "Missed you more."

Law snorts and leans down, his nose brushing yours. The silence is comforting, especially when you're in it with him, a quiet kind of peace that speaks volumes without saying a word. There’s no need for conversation, no pressure to fill the air with sound. The moment stretches between you like a soft, invisible thread, binding you together without effort.

"Did you see the newspaper a few months back?" Law's voice carries an undercurrent of caution, and from the way he hesitates, you can tell he’s debating whether to bring it up. You hum, your eyes flickering briefly between his.

"The crew asked a lot of questions, but I never let it slip," You say, but there’s a tension in your words.

The need to be careful has grown more important as time passes, as the world becomes more dangerous, like a delicate dance you’ve learned to navigate without drawing too much attention. Still, the questions, the rumours, the assumptions—they're starting to take their toll.

“It shouldn't be like this,” Law murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes close briefly, as though he’s trying to block out a reality he can’t change. "But is there any other choice?"

You can hear the desperation in his words, the quiet plea for an answer that seems impossible to answer. This hidden side of you that's tucked away from prying eyes and curious minds has become both a refuge and a cage, something you never wanted it to be.

"No," You answer softly, your voice steady even as your heart tightens in your chest. "There’s no other choice."

You don't need to say more—he knows. Both of you know.

"But I’m going to tell my crew," Your voice cracks the silence, and the statement hangs in the air between you. "They're onto me."

Law exhales, and you can see the conflict in his eyes. The fear of consequences and the possibility of everything unravelling if the wrong person knows eats away at you, and from the way Law's eyes plead, you know it hurts him too.

"Of course you can," He mumbles, his voice low. "I would never tell you what you can and can't do."

His words are firm, but they don’t bring the comfort you're hoping for. You both know that telling is easy, but it’s living with the consequences of that decision that’s the hard part. It’s about what you risk losing if it all falls apart.

You lean back to look at him from a different angle, your heart beating a little faster than it should.

"But you’re scared, aren’t you?" You say quietly, knowing the answer before he even opens his mouth. You know him, you don’t need him to say it aloud. 

"Yeah," He admits softly. "I am. Because I can’t lose you. But I know you don’t want to lie to them either."

There's a raw honesty to his voice that he usually keeps under lock and key when there are other people around. But when it's just you, Law is as vulnerable as he allows himself to be, which is much more than he's ever shown to anybody else.

"It’s not about them," You whisper. "Whatever happens, we need to decide what we can live with. Because if the four seas know we're each other's weakness, there goes our cover of ambiguity, and you've always been mysterious."

There’s a flicker in his eyes, a brief spark of something, and for a second, you think maybe he’s going to speak, probably some remark to dismiss the tension or shift the conversation. But instead, Law chokes out a laugh—quick and unexpected.

It is short, but it carries relief, like an exhale after holding in too much. The tension between you lifts, just slightly, in the aftermath of it. You can’t help but smile, even though the gravity of everything is still hanging just beneath the surface. The humour is a welcome distraction, a brief flicker of light in a room that’s been dark for too long.

And you suppose it has. You haven't seen Law in a few months, and every time you do, it's like the floodgates of your heart open all at once—suddenly, there’s no holding back the torrent of everything you’ve kept buried, everything you've tried to push aside. Nights crying yourself to sleep, endless days stuck in bed replaying the memories, dealing with the longing, and suffering through the unsaid words that have accumulated in the silence between your last meeting and this one.

Law moves one hand to rub the back of his neck, his usual aloofness returning, but softened with your attempt at making him laugh.

“I suppose that would make me less... mysterious,” He murmurs, regarding you with that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "No one’s going to take me seriously as a captain if they know this side of me."

Rolling your eyes, you press onto your toes and press your lips against his. You giggle against his mouth when he immediately kisses back, his response urgent, as if he’s been itching for this moment, for permission to bridge the gap between the two of you.

There’s no hesitation in him now, just the raw need that’s been held back, tightly reined in for months on end. His hands find their way to the back of your neck, his fingers threading into your hair, pulling you closer like he never wants to let go.

"They're probably waiting for us," You gasp as Law trails his mouth down your jaw. "Wondering what the hell we're doing."

Law's chuckle is dark as he continues his attack on your neck. "If they can't guess then they're dumber than they look."

Your giggle dies on your lips as Law gently pushes you against the metal wall of the Tang, his leg slipping effortlessly between yours.

"That’s a low bar," You manage through gasps. "Have you seen those guys? They think jumping in the ocean is the epitome of cleanliness."

He laughs against your skin, the sound vibrating through you. "Yeah, okay. But, if your crew don’t know by now, they’re either blind or still trying to figure out if the looks I give you are innocent."

You pull back slightly, glancing at him with mock seriousness. "Innocent? You just bit me on the neck, Law."

He grins, clearly enjoying himself. He ignores your comment, reality creeping back into his mind. "If they don't already know, you tell them, alright? I want you to be happy."

He looks at you like you hung the stars, and there's no other way you would wish him to look at you. You nod and kiss his cheek. "We're not that subtle, though, are we?"

Law furrows his eyebrows and recalls a time from your past, the memory making him smile prematurely. "Like the time you tried to sneak past Bepo and Penguin and knocked over an entire shelf of medical supplies?"

You wince and then laugh. "Well, they didn’t hear that, did they?"

Law tilts his head, his lips curling into that devilish grin. “I think they'd be more concerned if we weren’t doing this. I mean, what else would explain us sneaking away like this?”

You snort, trying to hold back the laugh threatening to escape. "Probably think we're plotting to steal the Sunny's meat stash. Honestly, I'd be more worried about that."

“Hey," Law's voice drops to a mockingly serious tone. "Strawhat would argue that meat is the only thing worth risking a mutiny for."

You burst into laughter, shaking your head. "Guess they really are dumber than they look if they don’t figure out what we’re up to."

"Exactly," Law says with a wink, pulling you back into him, his lips finding your neck again. "Now, stop talking, and let’s just enjoy the mystery.”

—

When you emerge from the Polar Tang, the noise hits you first—the unmistakable sounds of raucous laughter and clinking sake cups over the familiar lull of the ocean. The air is thick with the smell of grilled fish and meat, and the warm, comforting aroma of rice wine.

The moment you step onto the deck, you're greeted by the sight of Franky and Zoro having a challenge to see who can drink the most sake without passing out. Usopp’s telling a wild, drunken story that no one can fully believe (and everyone’s too tipsy to really care if it's true or not, it's funny as hell). Nami’s chatting animatedly with Robin, Ikkaku, and a few women from the Kid Pirates, all of them clearly amused by the antics happening around them. Sanji’s serving food, and from the looks of it, he’s already had a few cups of sake himself—he’s not even trying to hide the gleam in his eyes when he sees you.

Law is as calm as ever, his cold demeanour never faltering as you step into the crowded area, though you catch a flicker of amusement in his gaze. It’s as if the two of you are invisible in plain sight. You exchange a glance—silent communication, the kind that only the two of you can manage—and it’s clear: they don't seem to suspect the rumour to be true.

Zoro waves a half-empty bottle of sake at you as you step towards the group of girls, his grin slightly lopsided. "Hey, hey, you're back! What’s the deal? You two off somewhere plotting how to take the all the sake?"

Nami looks over, catching the tail end of Zoro's question, and you can practically feel the shift in the air as her eyes flicker between you and Law. Her eyebrow arches, the wheels in her head turning. She throws you an exaggerated eye roll, but there's something different in the way she does it now—a knowing, almost playful glint in her eyes.

"Ugh, you guys are too much," She says with a knowing smile playing at the corner of her lips. "That rumour doesn't seem so far-fetched now, does it?"

Seems your crew is a lot sharper than you wished they were.

“Wait, what?” Zoro squints at the two of you as though trying to piece it together. “Are you saying these two really have something goin' on? Thought it was just a dumb rumour..."

Nami’s grin only widens, her arms crossing as she watches you squirm under the weight of her gaze. “Oh, Zoro, you really haven’t figured it out yet? Please, it’s obvious. All the sneaking off when we meet with the Heart Pirates, the looks they give each other when they think no one’s paying attention, her constant sulking when we part from them—come on, you’re not that dense.”

You freeze as Nami starts listing off what seems to be a mental list. Had you really been that naive to think she wouldn't know? Your eyebrows triangulate as you try to catch her gaze, your eyes full of regret. Nami smiles softly when she sees the look and waves her hand. You know she'd never use this against you, but you can see the flicker of hurt in her amber eyes.

Maybe you underestimated your crew's observation skills, or maybe you deemed yourself unworthy of being the centre of attention. Whatever it is, it's making you uneasy.

On the other side of the deck, the volume of chatter softens. The Kid Pirates may not have been paying much attention to the earlier drama, but now they’re looking at you, and every single one of them has just become aware of the situation. Especially Kid, who raises an eyebrow in your direction, leaning forward slightly.

Your heart skips a beat when you realise they have also figured it out, and then the whole keeping it between your two crews turns into the Kid Pirates knowing too. Panic rises in your chest when you register the severity of the situation—if they know, then how easy is it for strangers to do the same?

"Wait, you two...?” Kid starts, his voice rough and a little too loud. His gaze flickers between you and Law, then back at his crew, who are clearly picking up on the vibe. "Huh. That’s not a surprise, but I guess it explains the newspaper thing."

Killer’s grin widens, a knowing glint in his eyes. "So the rumour was true?"

But Law, ever the picture of composure, only tilts his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"It’s really not that interesting," He says dryly, arms folding across his chest.

Kid is unimpressed with Law's deflection, his eyes flicking back to the rest of the crews, who are now too interested in the drama to look anywhere else. "Guess that rumour was right, after all. Kinda figured you two had something going on, especially after that time you both disappeared on Sabaody while the fight was going on."

You stare at Kid, trying not to let your face betray how uncomfortable the situation has become. "That had nothing to do with this."

The laughter, the teasing, the questions—everything starts to blur together, an overwhelming rush of voices and jabs that twist around in your head, all at once. Your heart hammers in your chest as you struggle to keep up with the rapid-fire chatter.

"That long?" A shocked cry comes from the other side of the deck. Sanji's dramatic approach is unmistakable, his wide eyes filled with genuine concern as he rushes over, his steps quick but careful, like he's about to witness something catastrophic. “You two... really?”

You inhale sharply, trying to steady yourself, but your breath feels shallow, trapped in your throat. The reality of the situation hits you all at once. The entire crew—your family—along with your second family, and the Kid Pirates are staring at you, waiting for some reaction, some explanation.

"Enough."

Law’s voice cuts through the haze, louder than anything you’ve heard in the past few minutes, sharp and commanding enough to grab your attention. It’s like the snap of a whip, but it doesn’t feel threatening—just firm, steady, the sound of someone who’s done with the chaos and isn’t going to let it continue.

The silence is immediate.

"We were going to tell you soon," You say, voice quiet. “But I just don't want to whole world to know, you know, considering the positions of everyone here.”

"Wait," Usopp says, finally grasping the situation. "Are you telling me the rumour has been true this whole time? You’re… you’re really together? And we didn’t notice?!"

“What?” Luffy blurts out, voice high and incredulous. "You two? Together?" He tilts his head, processing the words at lightning speed, then grins ear-to-ear as if he’s just solved the greatest mystery in pirate history. “That’s awesome! I knew it! I knew you two were up to something! You’ve been acting all sneaky, like when I steal food and nobody sees me! I can tell, you know?!”

Nami opens her mouth to scold Luffy but is cut off by Robin. 

"Interesting," She says, but there's no judgment in her tone—just an almost quiet understanding. “I must admit, I’m curious as to how long this has been going on. You both hide it so well.”

Her gaze lingers on you and then shifts to Law. The curiosity in her voice is gentle, like a conversation you might have over a quiet cup of tea. She’s not pressing for answers; she’s just acknowledging the truth without making a big deal out of it. There’s no teasing, no grand statement, just that calm acceptance that feels like an anchor in the middle of the storm that’s just hit the Sunny.

“Few years,” Comes your vague answer, but it satisfies Robin nonetheless. 

“I’m glad you both are happy," the archaeologist says simply, and there’s a softness in her eyes that makes you feel like she truly means it. Your honorary big sister approves of your relationship, and it makes tears prick the corners of your eyes. “Don’t worry about the others too much. They’ll adjust. Just take your time.”

“Adjust, my ass,” Zoro quips, crossing his arms with a sigh, his voice dripping with sarcastic amusement. “So you two were just playing it cool while the rest of us looked like idiots? And you still managed to dodge all my questions? Impressive—"

A loud, exaggerated "yohohoho!" from the back of the crowd echoes across the grass, interrupting Zoro. You glance at Brook, who had been standing somewhat aloof in the corner, a wide grin plastered across his skeletal face. His arms are thrown dramatically into the air like he’s just witnessed the most epic romance of the century.

“Well, well, well, it seems that true love has bloomed!” He says, his voice full of glee and a touch of theatrical flair. “I can see it now!” Brook continues, hands raised to the sky. “'The Pirate King’s Crew: A Hidden Love Unveiled!' A ballad of passion! A symphony of suspense!” He pauses dramatically, looking back at you and Law with a gleam in his eye. “You two should definitely star in it... or, perhaps, just provide the inspiration. Yohohoho!"

“I’m glad someone’s enjoying this,” You say with an uninhibited giggle.

Law shakes his head, though he’s clearly amused by the skeleton’s antics. "If he writes a song about us, I'm throwing him off the ship."

“Oh, don’t worry, captain!” Brook says brightly. “I’ll make sure the song is perfectly respectful! There will be no disrespectful verses in this one! It’ll be a tale of true love!”

Nami facepalms and ignores the musician. “I told you guys they were too subtle. You seriously think you can get away with anything with me around?” Her eyes flick to Law. "But I’m guessing you didn’t exactly want to make this public right now. And with Kid's crew around, I can see why."

“Hey!—”

“It wasn’t about hiding it forever,” Law cuts in, his voice steady and calm. “We just didn’t want to deal with the... complications. Not with everyone constantly looking over our shoulders.”

“So I assume Law’s crew has known for a lot longer than we have?” Robin says. “Considering you’ve known them since childhood?”

"I'm sorry." Your nod is sheepish, though there’s no anger, only mild surprise from your crew.

“We didn’t mean to keep it from you guys…” Bepo calls from his spot on the bow with Shachi and Penguin. “It was just... well, her and Law’s business, you know?”

“We’d rather keep this under wraps,” Law announces, his glare pointed at Kid. “So don’t go running your mouth, got it?”

Kid throws his arms up in defence, a smug chuckle leaving his lips. “Don’t care that much anyway, Trafalgar. No need to get your panties in a twist.”

“Got it!” Luffy laughs, shoving a hunk of meat into his mouth. You trust your captain with your life, so his easy answer is enough for you.

Law tuts and turns to you. He looks slightly pale at the realisation that people know, but the relief in his posture is evident. 

There’s an air of collective understanding in the air as the chatter starts up again. Usopp is back telling his stories to the women, and Zoro throws another empty sake bottle at Franky’s feet before the cyborg can finish his drink.  

You wish to explain your side to Nami, but she looks content sipping on her cocktail and conversing with the Kid Pirates. You'd tell her all about it when this meeting is over and you have a clearer head.

“Well, now that that’s settled,” You say, turning to Law with a smirk. “How about we finally get some rest?”

“And give them more ammunition?” Law asks, the corners of his lips curling into a smile.

You sigh, glancing back at your crew. “Not like we’ll escape it ever again…”

And as you look around at your family, both the Straw Hats and the Heart Pirates, as well as the Kid Pirates, who are revelling in the gossip, you can’t help but feel a warm sense of relief. It’s out there now. No more secrets, no more hiding.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[daryltwdixon]

thinking about waking up to Daryl making breakfast in the kitchen of your shared home:

you wake up to an empty bed, but that was normal. he had been out with Aaron for days on end, you were so used to waking up alone since he took the position. but when you wake up to an empty bed and the smell of maple syrup and warmth wafting through the cracked open bedroom door...

he would be barefoot, his usual boots abandoned for once. what if he was wearing his boxers instead of his usual jeans, finally having somewhere to be himself and loose in your home together :')

his hair is still a little messy from sleep, sticking up in places he didn't bother to smooth down before starting on his breakfast mission

he's so good with his weapons, his tools, so its cute watching him fumble around trying to make a perfect breakfast for you.

his brow is furrowed, tongue sticking out as he focuses on flipping the pancake in the pan to perfection.

when he notices you walking in, only in his large t shirt, his cheeks pink and he's all shy as he admits he wanted to surprise you today. He says it all as your arms wrap around his mid drift from behind, pushing your face into his back and inhaling his scent.

This was your happy place. This is all you wanted, for forever.

The food might not look perfect, but you notice he tried to make it nice—he even wiped the edge of the plate with a rag, something you’d never expect from him.

There’s a rare softness in his eyes as he watches you take your first bite, clearly waiting to see if you like it. You catch the tiniest twitch of his lips when you tell him it’s good, a quiet kind of pride he’d never outright express.

When you tease him about burning the toast, he gives a gruff, half-hearted defense, “Ain’t burnt—just got a little extra crunch, s’all.”

When you offer to clean up after the sweet breakfast he made, Daryl shakes his head with a quiet grin and tells you he has other plans for the morning. He drags you back to bed, kissing and licking the last traces of syrup from your fingers before taking his time worshipping every inch of you, making sure the day starts in his favorite way—with you.

The morning is gentle and slow with sweet nothings whispered to each other, the longing in his eyes when he tells you how much he misses you when he’s away, the feel of his big, broad hands on you and ya know what I’m gonna stop there before I lose my mind.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

OMFGGGGGGG, MY BOIIIIIISSSS😭😭😭

the 26 y/o versions of the first years warmed my heart. do you have any thoughts about the second years, miss raven🥹🥹🥹?

[10 years later headcanons for the first years here!]

What comes after Ever After?

Like Mrs. Rosehearts wished, Riddle has gone on to become a medical mage, just like his parents. More specifically he is a pediatrician (so he works closely with children) and even leads community classes to promote health literacy and independence among the youth. His temper has mellowed out with time, and most patients report that Dr. Rosehearts is stern and by-the-books, but very patient and caring.

As it so happens, he also has a paralegal certification--something he earned in his free time just because there's still a part of him that's so fascinated with the law. Riddle uses that certification to help the hospital he works at navigate complicated cases such as medical malpractice, malfeasance, and negligence--he'll ensure that the perpetrators get their just desserts!

Though unintentional, Riddle ends up being the kind of adult that his young patients can genuinely look up to and confide in. They tell him all kinds of things, like bullying that happens at school, self-esteem issues, uncertainties about the future, or their parents not getting along. He listens and reassures them with a smile, a sticker, and the advice they need--some of these things, he is quite familiar with, and he speaks earnestly and from his own heart.

He has gone low contact with his mother. She threw a hissy fit about it (which scared Riddle and almost made him walk back on his decision), but he was able to move forward with the decision thanks to backing from Trey and Chenya. Riddle still a lot of complex feelings to unpack, and he feels he can better achieve that by living on his own, without his mother looming over him.

Riddle's slowly learning every day, from little things that every adult does to look after themselves (cooking, cleaning his apartment, etc.) to recapturing lost bits of his childhood (gaming more often, having the freedom to meet up with his friends when he wants to). He feels like... with each passing day, he is discovering new sides to himself--and there's something nice about that.

With glowing references from the second prince of the Sunset Savanna himself, Ruggie has the ability to go practically anywhere. He ultimately settled for hospitality--cuz hey, it's a blend of many of the talents he has accrued over the years, and he's got plenty of expertise in looking after others. Ruggie's not just any general manager either, but the general manager of the Sunset Villa, the luxury resort in Dawn City that hosts royals and important guests from all over Twisted Wonderland.

He has this running joke where he pretends to be meeting Leona for the first time ever if he happens to be staying at the Sunset Villa for an event. Ruggie will address him as "stranger" all while shooting him a very knowing look. It mildly annoys Leona, but he lets it slide because, well... it's his old pal Ruggie.

He's the kind of boss that his employees love. Having been at the bottom of the social rung before, Ruggie's known to treat his workers well (free food at the holiday parties!) and is understanding when an issue comes up. If the season is particularly busy, he'll even roll up his sleeves and join them in doing the dirty work himself!

With the fat paycheck he earns, Ruggie is able to reinvest that money into his family. Granny Bucchi has been moved into a nicer house, has a car and walker to help her around, and never has to worry about the fridge being empty ever again. They even hire a housekeeper to do the chores, so Granny Bucchi can happily retire.

Ruggie pours his money back into the community too. The slum children are frequently over for meals or enjoying the new amenities provided for in part by his donations. A new park, a library, a soup kitchen... He's lauded as a local hero, and he deserves every bit of that praise.

Azul has basically double majored in business and law. He now works part time as a partner at his stepfather's firm, but focuses his efforts serving as the CEO to the ever-expanding Mostro Lounge chain. It started off as one location on NRC campus, but there are Mostro Lounges all over Twisted Wonderland now.

Azul likes to humble brag about how he's "self-made", all while not-so-subtly adjusting the expensive watch he wears on his wrist. His insistence on maintaining his appearance and polite person carries over to adulthood. Azul has strict rules about how his hair should be worn, how his clothes should be tailored, and even what kind of cologne he should wear when greeting clients. That meticulousness has played a large part in his booming success.

He's frequently away on business trips to speak with investors, check up on individual locations that may not be performing so well, and to do market research. Azul's always looking for nice cutlery or fancy furniture to furbish his restaurants. Sampling food abroad also grants him the chance to be inspired to introduce new dishes to the menu.

... Still a mama's boy. Behind his tough businessman attitude, Azul's still a family man. He cherishes the precious time he spends with his mom, stepdad, and grandma and is more than happy to share the fruits of his labor with them. His mom will tend to retaliate with piles of his favorite dishes, which Azul finds difficult to refuse.

Azul has Jade and Floyd's contact information in his phone, but he'll deny it if you ask. He only views them as business partners, you understand? Business partners! They only ever talk for important matters. (That's an obvious lie. You can tell from his sudden defensiveness, how he stutters when he speaks his words--and how his eyes light up when he received the notification of a text message from one of the twins.)

Jade tells you he is an “informant” for the Leech family business (which, to this day, remains unspecified). He describes the job to you like that of a private eye—he snoops around, collects information, and solves harmless little mysteries. You see? Nothing suspicious here :))

If NRC Jade was a knife, then older Jade is that same knife but sharpened to a fine point. He seems to be slicker somehow, polite and poised as he was before, but having perfected the art of deceit and able to chameleon his way into any situation as needed. You don’t know if you can fully trust him, not with that smile.

Jade has turned his interest in flora into something… practical. Are you aware that this fungus can be manufactured into a deadly poison? A single drop of it can stop an elephant’s heart. He knows how it is done—would you care for a demonstration?

His wardrobe is a lot of... black? Jade laughs it off and explains that black is simply easier to maintain, as "the stains" don't show as easily. "What stains?" you ask him, but all he says is that "cleaning up" can be such a mess sometimes, especially if Floyd is feels like he doesn't want to help. Is he talking about laundry...?

He keeps a busy schedule (so many clients to meet and greet, you know), but he reserves the same slot of time every few weeks for him and Floyd to reunite with Azul a “special” acquaintance for an octopus dinner. Jade makes it sound so ominous, but it’s also perhaps the most sincere you’ve ever heard him.

Floyd calls himself the “muscle” of the Leech family business. Again, what they specifically do is never quite defined. He says it’s like being a bodyguard; he’s paid to be beat up people that threaten their operations. Just don’t ask what those operations are and he won’t have to squeeze you too! :))

He retains the same flippant attitude he had in his student era. Floyd never quite settles or plants his roots, he just hops from place to place, partakes in whatever interests him, then peaces out to the next exciting thing. And if anyone gets in his way?? Well, I hope they’re prepared to deal with one angry eel. It’s like he hasn’t matured much from his school days 💦

Some days Floyd doesn’t even bother showing up for work, meaning that Jade (whom Floyd works with) has to dirty his own hands. He gets a scolding for it later, but it doesn’t really bother Floyd. It’s not like his job is in danger, no matter how many times he flakes. (Perks of working for his dad, lol)

There’s a strange rack of shoes in Floyd’s room. None of them match, and they’re of varying sizes too. Surely they’re not his? Floyd claims it’s a miscellaneous collection, kind of like a trophy case to keep a record of all your wins. He doesn’t elaborate further when pressed about the matter.

For his special dinners with Azul and Jade, Floyd likes to make them play Russian roulette with him! He’ll prepare takoyaki with mystery fillings and then bring them in, daring the other two to take turns eating them until they come upon the one with the ghost pepper center. These nights are frequently filled with thrills, chills, and borderline kills—he looks forward to them!

In the past several years, Kalim has been working hard to help with the daily operations of the Asim trading company. Through this, Kalim has wizened up and developed various skills: negotiation, hosting, general business acumen, etc. Now he has succeeded his father as the president of the trading company.

Getting out into the real world exposes Kalim to many harsh realities. Poverty, illness, death. It unnerved him at first, made him want to pull away—but he forces himself to stand his ground and look. These experiences have shaped him to be less extravagant and more mindful. Parades just to share wealth, sneaking out in a worn shawl to buy bread for the local children, etc. He’s never really come to terms with the wealth disparity that exists between him and others, and all of that is just now hitting him. (Quarter life crisis?) Kalim teaches his siblings about this too, hoping that they'll show the same kindness to the world when they're his age.

Life somehow has still not managed to squeeze the cheer out of Kalim. He's still as sunny and as trusting as ever, but now that upbeat disposition and slight airheadedness belies such a sharp mind. Kalim knows how to wield his empathy well, using it to easily worm his way into people's hearts and capture them. Soon you'll find yourself laughing with him, cup of tea in hand, and nodding along to his proposals.

He tries his very best to be more independent! In his free time, he's heading out to try new things or to hone skills to take better care of himself. One day, Kalim would like to be self-sufficient! Cooking, cleaning, shopping, budgeting... These are all things he wants to be able to do for himself!

Kalim’s not so foolish as to believe he can free the Vipers as soon as he steps into power. A generations-long relationship like theirs can’t be dissolved overnight, and certainly not without facing opposition from both sides. Instead, he and Jamil reach an agreement to work together and gradually sever the ties between their families. Little by little, they'll drift apart... until, at long last, that bond snaps. If I really care about him, I'll let him go, Kalim tells himself.

For now, Jamil continues to serve as Kalim's personal attendant and aide. (And taste tester... and chef... and bodyguard... and...) Of course, if he had the choice, he would have ditched the Asims as soon as possible--but he's not so stupid as to do such a thing. He has a plan, but it's steady like poison slowly releasing in his veins. Tough it out now, enjoy the freedom later.

He's even more protective of Najma than ever. She'll remind him that she's not a little kid anymore, but Jamil can't help but still "mom" her... especially now that she, too, has joined the family trade of looking after the Asims. When Jamil looks at all, all he thinks of is their parents and all the Vipers before them. It reignites that fierce fire within him to not allow himself and his sister to fall to the same fate. (He communicates none of this to Najma.)

With Kalim gradually becoming more independent and throwing more restrained banquets (they're more elegant, formal affairs, not wild), there's less work for Jamil to do. These days, he mainly manages the main Asim household and accompanies Kalim on outings (since he can't be left alone). It's a quaint, domestic life--except, you know, those continued attempts on Kalim's life.

In his down time, Jamil finds himself admiring the patterns in the clothing and tapestries around the Asim manor. He sometimes daydreams about being a merchant that curates fine fabrics, or perhaps a stylist who tends to hair outside of his own. There's many what-ifs to fill in that space between this day and the next.

Jamil has the opportunity to travel abroad on several occasions due to Kalim's business trips. Kalim tends to bring others with him in his entourage (including the Viper parents), then dismiss Jamil early claiming he "doesn't need his services" at the moment. Really, that's just Kalim excuse to grant him free time to explore the local area. Jamil at first insisted he didn't need this "charity", but eventually he decided to just take advantage of it. It's time away from Kalim, time to clear his mind, time to do all the things he wishes he could.

Like Sebek, Silver has been sworn in as a knight of Briar Valley and serves as the other half of Malleus's personal retinue. Silver is also a foreign emissary. He works wonderfully as a peacekeeper between fae and humans.

There was outcry from the senators when Silver was recommended for such important positions. Sebek at least has fae heritage, but Silver? Silver is 100% human, and the adopted son of that accursed Lilia Vanrouge!! It took a heartfelt speech from Silver, shouting from Sebek, a stoic defense from Lilia, and the icy insistence of Malleus to get Silver pushed through. He doesn't hold any ill will toward the senators--Silver just looked them all in the face and swore that he would do his best to earn their approval.

He puts his natural affinity with animals to good use, establishing Briar Valley's first ever animal battalion. Silver trains woodland critters that are willing and able to aid their efforts: avians that transmit letters over long distances, horses for riding into battle, deer, rabbits, mice, bears, and more to chomp and bash their way to victory in a fight.

Silver has formally taken on Lilia's surname as his own. They signed off on the official documents and everything. (Please call him Silver Vanrouge from now on!) At this point, Lilia has retired and lives far from him, but Silver makes it a point to speak with him as often as he can, whether it's via call or text. He has to remind his father how much he loves him. Once a year, Silver embarks on a trip to the abandoned Castle Wildrose to pay respects to where his biological father fell. He brings flowers with him and stories of how fae and human relations are progressing. He’s sure the Dawn Knight would be pleased.

The magic-induced narcolepsy that plagued him in his youth seems to have worn away with time. True love broke the spell... Now it only ever really hits him when he's already feeling tired to begin with or under some intense stress. Silver's able to go about his daily life and patrol without a problem!

[pupkashi]

a/n: gojo comfort drabble bc i need it :P

masterlist

gojo satoru has always been privy to your emotions. maybe it’s because you have a terrible poker face and you just can’t seem to lie to him, or maybe he just pays close attention to you.

regardless of the reason, it seems too obvious to satoru when you start to become more distant. he takes it personal at first, a pout on his face when you hit him with single word texts, heartstrings tugged and stepped on when he’s left on read. it seems all too sudden, you were just fine two days ago, what could’ve happened?

satoru thinks back to every word and action between the two of you, finding nothing that could’ve caused your mood to sour so quickly. he’s frowning at his phone, scrolling up and down your conversation to try and find the root of the problem, then it hits him.

I’m starting to get overwhelmed with everything idk T^T

there it is, he thinks, the frown on his face growing as he already knows you’ve slipped into your old ways. distancing yourself, shutting yourself off and more than likely spiraling. he sighs, grabbing an extra crewneck, spraying his cologne on it and grabbing his car keys.

the sharp knocks on your front door has your heart jumping out of your chest, making your quickly wipe the tears from your face and staying absolutely still. maybe if you didn’t move they’d leave, you reason.

“y/n, open up i know you’re in there” satoru sighs, staring straight at your front door through his sunglasses. “please? just wanna make sure you’re okay sweetheart.”

satoru’s voice makes you sit up straighter, panicking to fix your appearance and hiding the mess that’s become of your living room. you’re quick to splash water on your face, hoping your eyes aren’t too red as you put on a fake smile and open the door for your boyfriend.

“toru! didn’t know you were stopping by” you grin, making sure the door stayed as closed as possible to hide the state of your apartment.

“you’d know if you replied to my texts” he snips back, pushing past you with two bags in hand and placing them on your kitchen counter.

“wha- hey!” you protest, rushing after him and trying to stop him from going any further, “sorry i was uh- i was working on some stuff and got caught up” you nod, almost believing your own lie.

“oh? what were you doing?” his tone is innocent, and the way he cocks his head at an angle makes your resolve disappear, you knew you were caught the second he knocked on your door.

satoru sees your shoulders slump and chest deflate, and when he catches your bottom lip quivering he doesn’t waste time pulling you into his chest. it’s heart wrenching as you fall apart in his arms and he struggles to keep you together in his embrace. he’s got one arm squeezing you tight and another softly rubbing your back.

“I’m right here, just let it out” he whispers, his own eyes watering as you clench your fists full of his ridiculously expensive sweater.

“work has been shit and my boss is a dick and then the deadlines and i don’t wanna be a failure and-” you’re cut off by your own sobs, unsure if satoru even understands a word you’re saying. you’re mumbling into the soft fabric, letting everything you’d bottled up out.

you don’t know when satoru had picked you up and taken you to the couch, you just hold onto him tightly as he cradles you and listens to everything you have to say. he’s silent as you calm yourself down, his grip not once loosening as he continues to rub your back.

his grip only loosens when you softly push against him, letting him know to let you go. satoru complies instantly, his firm grip softens to let you choose wether to stay on his lap or move next to him. your linger for a second before settling in the spot next to him on the couch, sniffling and thanking him for the tissue to blow your nose.

“sorry” you whisper, voice shaky as you stare at the ground.

“it’s okay” he replies, “that’s why i came, do you feel better?” you nod, he smiles softly. “do you want me to say anything about it?” his voice is gentle, there’s no judgement, just love.

you think for a second, “not right now” you sigh, biting your bottom lip to stop yourself from crying again. satoru nods, a small ‘okay’ leaving his lips as he gets up and brings you the two bags he’d walked in with.

“eat before it gets any colder” is all he says before silently moving and cleaning the living room.

“you don’t have to i was gonna get to it” you say, puffy eyes staring at him as he shakes his head, leaning down and kissing your forehead.

“let me do this for you” there’s no room for argument, that much you know. instead you nod, heart warming when you see he’d brought your comfort food for you. the action itself is enough for a sniffle to escape you.

by the time you finish your meal satoru had cleaned your entire apartment, vacuum in hand as he hands you his crewneck, shorts and fresh pair of underwear. “i already turned the water on, go shower and then we can watch some tv, yeah?”

it all seems too perfect, what did someone like you do to deserve this? to deserve him? as the hot water hits your skin you sigh, letting it run over every inch of your body and letting your mind be silent for a moment. you can hear the vacuum over the sound of the shower, and your eyes land on the crewneck he’d handed to you.

it’s the same one you always use when you go over to his house, the one you’d been eyeing to steal from him for the past month. it’s his favorite one.

when you exit the restroom, freshly showered and finally feeling a bit better you’re met with a sparkling clean apartment.

“i put the dishes to wash, changed your bedsheets and dusted a bit” satoru says, taking your dirty clothes and throwing them in the washing machine alongside your other clothes.

“you wanna stay here or go to mine?” he figures you’ve had enough of your apartment for a bit, offering the change of scenery, and he could pamper you a bit more at his place.

“can we go to yours?” you sheepishly ask, avoiding eye contact.

“of course we can love bug” he replies, practically whisking you away and into his car.

it’s the first time in two days you’d left your apartment, the fresh air hitting you, almost breathing life back into you. it’s not too long before you’re arriving at satoru’s place, and he almost immediately has you under his covers and handing you the remote.

“put whatever you want, just gonna use the restroom and change first” he smiles, kissing your cheek before heading into the restroom with a change of clothes.

you were cuddled up to satoru’s side before you knew it, creating in his cologne and letting your eyes flutter shut. his body heat bringing you more comfort than a weighted blanket ever could. you scoot closer to him, wanting to be as close to his as humanly possible and never let go.

“want me to kill your boss?” satoru smiles down at you, dimples flashing when you smack him softly.

“as much as i wanna say yes i know you’d take it literally, so no” you giggle, the sound makes satoru’s heart flutter and stomach flip.

it’s a win for satoru, seeing you relaxed and refreshed as you cuddle into his side, slowly drifting off to sleep. your breathing evens out before long, holding him tightly in place. he can’t but press a gentle kiss on your forehead, tracing your features with his eyes and committing them to memory.

satoru lets his eyes flutter closed, your steady heartbeat lulling him to sleep. after all, he has to be up before you to have a word with your boss.

[mugglebornmarvelite]

Nightmares Fade

Paring: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: After a traumatic mission, you are left shaken by a nightmare that lingers, blurring the line between reality and fear. Unable to shake the feeling of unease, you make your way to the kitchen, hoping a warm cup of tea will calm your nerves. But it’s not just the tea that brings comfort to you.

Based on this request.

Word Count: Roughly 1.4k 

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, nightmares, a little anxiety and tension, the reader is jumpy, mentions of violence from a mission (implied), mental fatigue, and fluffy (because I can’t help it)

Author’s Note: I tried to avoid gory details or focus too much on the contents of the nightmare.

Navigation

Divider by: @strangergraphics 

You sat straight up in your bed, your heart pounding as you tried to catch your breath. The nightmare clung to your mind. The shadows of your fears haunt you even in the comfort of your bed. 

It was just a dream.

The last mission was gruesome. Normally, they didn’t affect you, or at least you tried not to let them rattle you, but the remnants of the aftermath followed you into your dreams.

It was just a dream.

You wiped your temple, trying to shake off the images and the helplessness that still echoed within you. 

It was just a dream.

Reaching towards your nightstand, you looked over at the time on your phone.

2:15 am

Sighing, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, the cool touch of the floor grounding you for a moment. 

Just a dream.

You ran your hands up and down your face as if trying to scrub away the bad thoughts.

You paused for a moment, feeling that uneasy stillness. The kind of stillness where every creak in the house makes your skin crawl, where the quiet is too much to bear.

You flinched at a sudden noise.

Something moved.

You froze.

A tight knot formed in your stomach.

But it was just your coat, slipping off the back of the chair by your desk.

A breathless giggle escaped you.

You were being ridiculous.

It was just a silly dream.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your robe and padded toward the kitchen, hoping that making tea would help.

You reached the kitchen, filling the kettle with water, the soft noise soothing your nerves. You weren’t sure why you felt so unsettled; you should’ve been able to shake the nightmare by now. But it lingered, just beyond reach, like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

Then you heard it.

A sound.

Quiet, but unmistakable.

From behind you.

You screamed, gripping the closing thing to you, which was the handle of the panini press.

Bucky’s tough demeanor cracked, the corner of his lip tugging into a soft smile, a hint of amusement on his face. 

His imposing figure loomed in the doorway, his broad shoulders practically filling the space. His blue eyes, though soft in the dim light, were fixed on you, tense yet unreadable.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “It’s just me.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Relief flooded through you as you realized that you didn't have to fight off an intruder while wearing a bunny robe, and you released the panini press handle. 

Thank God. 

It was just your wild imagination.

His presence in the kitchen wasn’t a coincidence; you knew he must’ve heard you. You froze for a moment, wiping at your face again, hoping he hadn’t seen the tears. Your first instinct was to turn away, to pretend like nothing was wrong, but that was a pointless game to play with Bucky. He saw through every façade. 

Before you could escape to privacy, you heard a sharp whistle from Bucky. “No, you don't. C'mere, sunshine.”

You winced at his tone, but his voice was gentle and commanding in the way only Bucky could be. 

You knew he wasn’t going to let you hide. 

Reluctantly, you turned back toward him, though your eyes were on the floor as you shuffled closer. “I’m fine. Just couldn’t sleep,” you murmured, keeping your voice steady, even though you could feel your heart still pounding.

“You okay?” His voice was rough with sleep.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

Bucky didn’t buy it.

His sharp instincts had a way of seeing right through any façade, especially yours. He uncrossed his arms, taking a few steps toward you, his large presence making the space feel smaller.

“C'mere,” he said softly, that gentle authority in his voice making it impossible to say no.

Reluctantly, you turned toward him, your eyes flicking to the floor. “Really, Bucky. It’s nothing.”

He didn’t buy it for a second. His flesh hand reached out, gently lifting your chin.

“Don’t lie to me,” he murmured, his eyes filled with concern. “Nightmare, right?”

You nodded before you could stop yourself, feeling the weight of the admission, that vulnerability creeping up your spine.

Bucky's face softened, the hardness of his usual demeanor slipping away as he leaned closer to you. "Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now. Come sit down, alright?"

Before you could protest, he guided you to the couch, his large, strong hand steadying you as he sat you down. He wrapped a cozy, warm blanket around your shoulders, the soft fabric instantly comforting.

“Stay here,” Bucky said with quiet authority, kissing the top of your head. “I’ll make finishing making you some tea.”

You let out a soft sigh, melting into his warmth as he gently pushed a few strands of hair out of your face. 

The simple tenderness of the gesture made your heart swell, and the gentleness of his touch was so at odds with the hardened bravado he often leaned into. 

With you, Bucky was a different kind of man. 

A sweet, soft, protective one.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmured before he moved to the kitchen. 

The rhythm of his movements in the kitchen was reassuring as you sighed.

When he returned, he was holding two steaming mugs of tea. He settled down beside you, and you shifted out of your cozy blanket cocoon, eager to share its warmth with him.

“Oh, no, sunshine, you don’t have to do that,” he said softly, his voice like a gentle caress.

“I want to,” you murmured, your smile shining through, soft and sweet.

His smile grew, a look of pure affection, as he pulled you closer, his arm sliding around you effortlessly, bringing you into his side like it was where you belonged.

“Here,” Bucky said softly, his voice like velvet, as he handed you a mug, the warmth of it seeping into your hands. His fingers brushed against yours, soft but lingering for just a second longer than necessary, as though he was trying to pass some of his calm into you. “This should help. It’s chamomile.”

You took a sip, the warmth from the tea settling in your stomach and slowly spreading through your chest. 

The sense of calm you needed started to return, but the best part was Bucky. He was still holding you close, his hand gently brushing your hair back, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your skin.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked.

You paused, considering the offer. It had been so hard to open up to anyone, especially about your nightmares. 

But with Bucky, there was no fear of judgment. He was safe. And somehow, his presence alone made everything feel a little bit easier to bear.

“I was running…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I got cornered and I couldn’t escape. And I kept hearing the team and you…but everyone was too far. No one could reach me in time.”

Bucky’s arms tightened around you, his body tensing for just a moment before he relaxed again, rubbing your back in slow, comforting strokes. “I’m right here, sunshine. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You swallowed hard, your emotions swelling up again. "I know. I just... I couldn’t stop thinking about how scary it felt."

He kissed the top of your head, his voice like a low hum in your ear. "You don’t ever have to face that alone. We’re here. I’m always here. No matter what."

You smiled faintly, the warmth of his words wrapping around you like the blanket he’d draped over you earlier. "Thanks, Bucky. You’re… you’re really something else."

“Nightmares don’t stand a chance when I’m around,” he murmured, his fingers brushing against your hair in slow, calming motions. “You’ll never face them alone. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

His words were a promise, quiet but unwavering. And as you snuggled closer to him, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your cheek, the fragments of your nightmare seemed to fade into the background.

But then you smiled faintly, attempting to lighten the mood, even if only a little. “If we fall asleep here, Sam’s probably going to take another picture.”

Bucky chuckled. 

“Let him,” he said with a grin. “You’re worth it. You should know that by now, sunshine.”

You practically melted into his side. 

There was something in the way he cared for you that made everything feel like it could be okay, even in the worst of moments. 

Nothing else seemed to matter.

And for the first time that night, you felt the weight of fear and anxiety fall away, replaced by the comfort and safety only Bucky could give you.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @princess-lil-spidey @sapphirebarnes @mgchaser @sparklystarsandstrawberries @arcadia-smith @rnurse-kole @juliebluehufflepuff @sailorsenshiuranep @alexxavicry

If you'd like to be added to my taglist

Much love x

- Maeve

[dulcescorderitas]

02

parings: married!deanwinchester x married!reader

synopsis: life married to dean

warnings: no smut

the nights always ended the same way, no matter how long he’d been gone. his hands, calloused from gripping the wheel of the Impala, always found their way to the curve of your waist, pulling you close, grounding himself in your warmth. it was like he was making sure you were still there, flesh and blood and not some fleeting dream he could lose again.

when dean came home, it was like the house breathed with him. the soft creak of the door, his boots thudding heavily on the wooden floors, the rustling as he shrugged off his jacket. it was all the noise of a man who fought his way back to you, every damn time. sometimes it was days, sometimes weeks, but every return felt like the first, like he’d fought a hundred battles just to hold you again.

“you up?” his voice broke the stillness, low and familiar, a sound you’d missed more than you could admit. you stepped out of the kitchen, where you’d been waiting, and met him halfway, your arms wrapping around his neck as his settled on your waist.

“i’m always up when you’re coming home,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. he held you tighter, a sigh of relief escaping him as he buried his face in your neck, just breathing you in.

sam’s footsteps echoed lightly behind him, and you glanced over dean’s shoulder. “sam, you know where everything is. get some rest.”

“thanks,” sam replied, offering you a small smile before disappearing into the guest bedroom.

the door clicked shut, leaving you and dean alone in the quiet house. his hands slid down to your hips, his thumbs brushing over the fabric of your shirt. “missed you,” he whispered.

“missed you too.” your fingers traced the edge of his jaw, noting the rough stubble that had grown since you last saw him. “come on, you look beat.”

he didn’t argue, letting you lead him to the bedroom. the familiar sights of your shared space surrounded you—the nightstand with his gun and knife, the salt lines carefully laid at every entry point. it was a fortress, one you both had built together, knowing the dangers that lurked just outside those walls.

he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you to stand between his knees. his eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but there was something else there too—a quiet gratitude, a sense of peace. “the road was rough,” he admitted softly. “but this… being here with you… makes it worth it.”

you cupped his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs along his cheekbones. “you’re home now. that’s all that matters.”

he nodded, pulling you down into his lap, holding you close. the weight of him, the steady beat of his heart under your palm, it all felt like home. three times a week, if you were lucky, he’d be here, his presence filling the space, his warmth seeping into you. and in those moments, the worry and the fear melted away, leaving just the two of you.

sometimes, you wished he would stay longer. that the job wouldn’t pull him away so often. that there’d be more mornings where you could wake up to the sight of him, hair tousled, eyes half-lidded with sleep, his lips curved into a lazy smile that was just for you. mornings where his hands would roam, slow and deliberate, exploring every inch of you as if he had all the time in the world. mornings where he’d whisper your name like a prayer, his lips tracing the line of your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin.

“we’ll have more mornings,” he said softly, as if reading your mind. his lips brushed against your temple, his voice a comforting rumble. “i promise.”

it wasn’t just about the sex, though God, when dean touched you, it was like the world stopped spinning. his fingers, rough and sure, knew exactly how to unravel you, to make you shudder and cling to him in the dark. but it was the way he looked at you after, like you were the only thing anchoring him to this world, that made your chest ache with something fierce and unrelenting.

you were his home. his sanctuary. and even though you wished he could be there more, you never doubted for a second that he was yours, fully and completely. every kiss, every touch, every whispered word in the dead of night was a promise—a promise that no matter how far he wandered, he’d always find his way back to you.

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis

[lieslab]

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Han X gn reader

Summary: Your boyfriend finds you celebrating your birthday alone in the dark.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: I'm choking on nostalgia at 1 am and if I'm suffering, I'm afraid I'm going to make you suffer with me too. Happy birthday, celebrate your birthdays, or I'll cry.

_ _ _

“Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me.”

The lyrics were murky as your brain tried to remember the song from so long ago. With the light on above the kitchen sink, your view of the area was pretty dim. In front of you, a perfectly wrapped cupcake was topped with sprinkles and a single lit candle. 

Still tucked in your pajamas, you stood beside the kitchen island and sang quietly to yourself. The small flame reflected in your eyes and once you finished the song, the dark kitchen went back to silence. Your eyes remained on the flickering flame. 

The wax of the single black candle slowly began to ooze down the side. In the back bedroom, your boyfriend was sound asleep. Han had been out cold since he came home a few hours ago. Another day of practice and recording left him exhausted. 

In your head, it was fortunate. Your birthday was today, but the truth? You never had plans to celebrate it. What was the point, anyway? Another year of growing older. Another year where you’re forced to confront that you’re creeping closer and closer to death. 

Days tick by, but the thought haunts your subconscious. One of these days, it just might be your last and you’ll never know until it happens. Your anxiety surrounding death had been growing lately. 

Birthdays weren’t special to begin with. Birthdays were somewhat enjoyable as a kid. There was cake and ice cream. A few presents and a signed card. 

And then you grew up. 

The presents became less. The cakes disappeared. The few friendships dissolved and that was that. If anything, birthdays were just a painful reminder of how lonely you felt. Was there really anything to celebrate anymore? 

The wrinkles deepened and the mistakes of the past weighed on your heart heavily. Three-hundred and sixty-five days had passed since this time last year. So many years from when you were born into this world and it still felt pointless; just another nail in the coffin. 

“What are you doing?” Han’s sleepy voice broke through your thoughts. Across the way, his hands wiped at his sleepy eyes. He yawned and his attention went down to the flickering flame. “You made yourself a cupcake at this hour?” 

“Um…” Your head shook and you leaned forward to blow out the candle. “Something like that, I suppose.” 

Finally more awake, his half-lidded eyes met yours. He scanned the sink behind you for dirty dishes, but there wasn’t any. The scent of cake didn’t linger in the air. It must have been something you bought from a store. 

“A cupcake for a midnight snack is a weird choice, isn’t it? I’ve heard that sugar can give you nightmares before bed.” 

An ache squeezed your hollow heart at his words. You longed for the flavors to burst on your tongue, but instead you nodded. “Yeah, thanks for reminding me. I’ll probably just save it for dessert tomorrow after lunch or something.” 

The empty plastic container that used to hold the cupcake had been placed on the back counter. You spun around to grab it and blinked rapidly, trying to hide your tears. Han didn’t remember your birthday, of course, he didn’t. 

It wasn’t something you could be mad about. It’s not like you told him about your birthday. In fact, when he brought it up, you switched the topic. Your birthday felt so unimportant and dull, you tried to forget about it most of the time. 

But this birthday? Nostalgia bit into your heart this year. You longed for rich icing and moist cake. You wanted to recall the way your laugh sounded higher-pitched in childhood. If you chewed and squeezed your eyes shut, you were sure you could remember your mother back when you were only seven. 

When her hair was its original color and time hadn’t worn her down. Back when her joints were younger and she didn’t mention pain all the time. Her hair was longer and life seemed brighter. 

To a time when your father seemed to notice you more. When the future was bright and sitting on top of his shoulders made you squeal with delight. Up there, anything seemed possible and with his hands supporting your legs, you could do anything. 

Time is cruel and adulthood will rob you of everything you hold dear if you let it. Sharp teeth rip bites from your heart. Relationships fade and without work on either end, the distance between people grows like wild ivy. Phone calls dwindle and the steady texts disappear. 

Your parents become strangers. Friendships you knew like the back of your hand become foreign. Everything crumbles and then you’re left holding onto, not people, but the memories. Memories are just daggers to a beating heart. 

Things feel so achievable when you're young. Birthdays are some of the most exciting times of a child’s life. Dreams were so easy to accomplish back then, the sky was the limit, but this was now. Your star-dusted dreams died out so long ago, you couldn’t see them anymore. 

Han didn’t notice you reaching up to wipe a tear, but he noticed the rainbow sprinkles on the cupcake. He knew a lot of things about you and he knew that you didn’t like sprinkles on your cupcakes. You claimed they were too childish and yet, they were scattered along top of swirled icing. 

When it finally clicked, his eyes widened. “Oh my god, wait.” You spun around and his head snapped to you. “It’s your birthday, isn’t it?” 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“But it does! What do you mean?” He rushed across the tile floor and grabbed you. “Happy birthday! I can’t believe I missed out on telling you that. Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Maybe birthdays are just stupid.” 

You pulled yourself from his grip and grabbed the cupcake with two hands. You didn’t get far when he grabbed a fistful of your shirt and gently tugged you back to face him. “What do you mean?” 

Your eyes stayed on the floor. You couldn’t bear to look at those soft brown eyes. Not tonight, not with all the jumbled emotions swarming you. If your eyes found him, you’d fall apart in seconds. 

“What?” 

“Do you ever think about how pointless they are? So? I’m a year older, who cares?” You tried to squirm from his grip. 

“I care.” His hand reached up, gently grabbed your chin, and he made you face him. “I care an awful lot about your birthday. You’re here with me, aren’t you?” 

His cheeks puffed up in a sad smile. “You made it. Look at you go. Isn’t that something worth celebrating? Something to be proud of? You’ve done so much.” 

“I’ve done nothing.” 

“You’ve done everything. You’ve survived every challenge and you learned a lot. You discovered new things about yourself. You exist and that itself should be celebrated.” 

Your bottom lip quivered and you blinked rapidly. Your voice came out wobbly. “You’re not supposed to make me cry on my birthday.” 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to make your boyfriend cry on your birthday either, but it’s happening.” His thumb reached up to catch a stray tear. Just as your tear fell, his own soon followed. 

“Why are you crying?” 

“Because it makes me sad that you don’t view yourself like I do. You’re so precious to me and I hate that you can’t see the good. Birthdays are meant to be celebrated. Haven’t you ever had a surprise party or a party with all of your friends?” 

“Not really. I’ve had stuff with one or two friends, but never a surprise party. I didn’t have a large group of friends. My birthday parties were themed around my family and then I started to grow up. Families don’t care about birthdays once you reach a certain age.” 

His head shook, but you nodded. “That’s how it was with my family,” you continued. “Birthdays are just a waste of time and-” You gently lifted the cupcake. “Money. Besides, sprinkles are childish.” 

It tore his heart to shreds. In the dim light, you looked defeated. Your hair was a mess and brown bags curled beneath your eyes. Sadness pooled in the corners of your eyes and stayed there. 

He reached out and pulled the cupcake from your cupped hands. Setting it back on the counter, he hurried over to grab a lighter from a distant junk drawer. His name left your lips, but he ignored you. 

He came back to the table and the lighter flickered to life. The sparking flame reappeared and relit the candle on the cupcake. He stepped back and gestured to you to step forward. “Go ahead and make a wish.” 

“But I-” 

“Make a wish.” 

You stared at him for a moment. Wet streaks lined his cheeks, but the way he looked at you in that moment, it inflated your heart again. The flutter of hope in his eyes. The way the flame danced in his pupils. His hands kept gesturing for you to blow out the candle. His usual smile still tugged at one side of his mouth. 

You shut your eyes, stepped up, and sent out a single stream of air. The flame was there and then gone, just like that. Before you reopened your eyes, Han clapped excitedly.  “Happy birthday, baby!” 

You squealed as you were grabbed by your waist. “Han Jisung!” He giggled with glee and slung you over his shoulder. “Put me down!” 

“No can do, we’ve got places to go, people to go see, and a birthday to celebrate. The night is still so young and we’re not going to waste it.” 

“It’s midnight!” 

“It’s basically happy hour somewhere. So first I was thinking that we should go get Minho. We can use him to break into Seungmin and Felix’s dorm. We can steal Felix’s video games and while we do that, Minho can draw a mustache on Seungmin with a permanent marker. In the morning, it’ll all be Lix’s fault.”  

“That’s cruel.” 

“And the entertainment from pranks lasts forever. So then we’ll sneak into Chan’s and Jeongin’s place and raid their food stash. We’ll end the night in Changbin and Hyunjin’s dorm. You can get sappy with Hyunjin while we eat snacks. Changbin can sing happy birthday at the top of his lungs.” 

When he put you down outside your apartment’s front door, he grimaced. Your arms were crossed over your chest and you scowled at him. “That’s the best you could come up with?” 

“Uh…” 

“It’s perfect, let’s go.” You looped your hand through his and began to tug him into Seoul’s darkness. “But since it’s my birthday, I had nothing to do with this.” 

“Hey, I thought you didn’t like your birthday.” 

“It turns out, I like it when it can be used as a get out of jail free card.” 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @danihwang882

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Ko-fi

[anhedoniawrites]

it’s not a date, we just kinda fuck around.

gif by @reidgif

june baby - victoria canal

Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU Reader.

summary: the two youngest BAU agents go on a first date

genre: fluff💌

word count: 8.5k

warnings: no use of y/n, proofread, none! (this is all foreplay for the smut that’s coming)

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You never thought Spencer Reid would actually work up the courage to ask you out. Yet here you were, standing in your apartment with only ten minutes to spare, staring at your closet like it held the answer to life itself. Nothing seemed good enough, and you still had no idea what to wear. If you’d had even the slightest inkling that this day would come, you would have pre-planned outfits for every possible scenario—a casual coffee shop, a romantic dinner, even an impromptu museum date. But you hadn’t, because as much as you’d daydreamed about it, you never thought it would happen.

Spencer Reid had always been a harmless work crush. Brilliant, kind, and charming in his uniquely awkward way, he was the type of man you admired from a distance, assuming he was far too shy—or uninterested—to make a move. Yet somehow, against all odds, you were, nervously getting ready to go on a date with him.

The memory of how it all unfolded still made you smile. You’d been in the work kitchen, fixing your usual afternoon coffee, when Spencer had wandered in with his signature blend of distracted focus and nervous energy. You glanced up as he approached, expecting nothing more than a quick hello and maybe some small talk about the latest case. Instead, he surprised you.

“Hi,” he said, his voice softer than usual, almost hesitant. He stood a little too close to the coffee pot, fiddling with the lid as if it held the courage he needed.

“Hey, Spencer,” you replied, smiling warmly.

They chatted about nothing in particular—books, coffee, the endless intricacies of caffeine preferences—until, without warning, he blurted out the question.

“Would you, um… would you ever want to get coffee together? Like, outside of work?”

Your heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t a grand gesture or a sweeping declaration, but it was undeniably Spencer—quiet, earnest, and completely endearing. You’d barely managed to contain your excitement as you said yes, feeling like a teenager with a crush all over again.

Now, standing in your room, you glanced at the clock. Seven minutes. You grabbed a dress—something simple yet flattering—and slipped it on, your mind racing. You’d been waiting for this moment since the day you joined the team, and now that it was yours, you couldn’t help but wonder how the evening would go. Would he be his usual awkward self? Would he surprise you again with something bold and unexpected?

Whatever happened, you knew one thing: Spencer Reid had already managed to surprise you once.

Seven agonising minutes—each second stretched out like an eternity. The silence was suffocating, gnawing at you from the inside out, until the sudden knock at the door broke the tension. Your heart leapt in your chest. He was here. Spencer was finally here, and your nerves threatened to spill over.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, before opening the door with a forced smile. The sight of him standing there, his hands fidgeting nervously, only made your own anxiety rise. He looked just as uneasy, maybe even more so. His usually confident posture was slightly hunched, his eyes darting to the floor, avoiding yours for a moment before he met your gaze.

“Hey, Spence,” you greeted, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to sound calm.

“Hey, I- um…” Spencer hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His voice was soft, uncertain. He stepped forward, pulling a bouquet of lilies from behind his figure. The delicate white flowers were a perfect match for your taste, and you couldn’t help but smile, your nerves easing just a little. “These are for you.”

You felt a flutter in your chest, your smile widening. “Spence, you shouldn’t have,” you said, reaching out to take the bouquet, feeling a warmth in your fingertips as you touched the smooth, delicate petals. The scent of the lilies was intoxicating, and for a moment, you were lost in the fragrance.

He shifted awkwardly, his eyes darting around as if searching for something to say. “I, uh… I thought you’d like them.”

You stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in. “You thought right. Come in, Spence.”

He followed you into your apartment, his presence oddly comforting despite the tension still hanging between them. You quickly moved toward the kitchen, trying to focus on something, anything, to distract yourself from the storm of emotions churning inside you.

As you walked, you couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. The apartment was far from pristine. The cluttered coffee table, the dishes piled up in the sink—it wasn’t the welcoming space you’d imagined showing him. “I’m so sorry the place is a mess,” you said, your cheeks warming with self-consciousness. You carefully set the lilies down on the counter, your hands trembling slightly as you arranged them.

Spencer’s eyes softened as he glanced around, a small, understanding smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “It’s fine,” he reassured you, his voice gentle. “You should see my place.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound soft and nervous. As you filled a vase with water, you thought back to the little things he had taught you, like how to properly cut the stems of flowers to help them last longer. You carefully angled the scissors and snipped each stem at a diagonal, the sound of the cut echoing in the quiet kitchen. You remembered him telling you that the angled cut would help the flowers drink better, and you did it now without thinking. The thought of him lingered in your mind as you worked, a smile playing on your lips.

The bouquet was finally settled in the vase, its elegant white petals standing out against the cool glass. You stepped back, admiring the flowers, but it was Spencer’s presence in the room that made everything feel just a little bit brighter.

“Much better. Thank you, Spence,” you said, your voice soft with appreciation as you glanced at the flowers on the kitchen counter. Their vibrant white petals stood out against the cool, clear glass of the vase, the room suddenly feeling a little warmer, a little brighter. You grabbed your bag from the chair, the familiar weight of it grounding you. You turned to face him, your nerves still fluttering, but your excitement growing as the moment approached.

“You ready?” you asked, your voice light but with an undercurrent of anticipation.

Spencer hesitated, his gaze flickering to the floor for a split second. He wasn’t sure if he was ever truly ready, especially not when it came to dates. His stomach twisted in knots, but that nervous energy was overshadowed by the excitement of being with you, of sharing a moment like this.

“Yeah, absolutely,” he replied, a nervous but genuine smile tugging at his lips.

With that, they were out the door, stepping into the crisp air of Washington. The city felt alive around them, the hum of the streets, the distant chatter of people, the soft rustling of leaves in the wind. They strolled side by side, both holding their coffee cups, yours an iced concoction with a splash of cream, his steaming hot with a swirl of cinnamon. He wasn’t usually one for aimless wandering, but as he looked over at you, he realized that this moment was worth it.

Your face, illuminated by the golden afternoon sun, was pure contentment. Your eyes sparkled as they took in the world around you, lighting up at every little thing. Whether it was a street performer, a stray cat lazily sunning itself, or the way the city skyline framed the horizon, you had a way of making the mundane seem magical. And he, well, he would do anything to keep seeing that smile on your face, to be the reason your eyes shone with that infectious joy.

As they passed a little street corner, your gaze drifted across the road, and your eyes lit up once again. There, nestled between a café and a bookstore, was a small record store with a neon sign flashing softly in the window.

“Can we go in?” you asked, your voice filled with excitement, your fingers already tugging gently at his sleeve.

Spencer followed your gaze, his heart doing a little flip at the eagerness in your voice. You had that effect on him—the way you made even the simplest moments feel special. “Of course,” he said with a smile, his voice soft but sincere. “Lead the way.”

And just like that, they crossed the street together, the world outside fading into the background as they stepped into the warmth of the record store. The air smelled faintly of old vinyl and coffee, and the soft hum of music played in the background, creating the perfect atmosphere for them to lose themselves in.

“Smell that?” you asked, your nose lifting to the air as you inhaled deeply, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips. “That’s the smell of the best way to listen to music.” The scent of aged vinyl, dust, and nostalgia filled the space, wrapping around them like a cozy blanket. You laughed at yourself, a light, airy sound that seemed to match the atmosphere of the record store perfectly. Spencer couldn’t help but join in, his laugh a little quieter but no less genuine, his eyes softening as he watched you.

“You spend too much time with Rossi,” Spencer teased, his fingers flicking through the rows of records, his gaze scanning the colourful covers. He was looking for something—anything—that caught his attention, but his mind was more on the way you lit up in places like this, surrounded by things you loved.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offence as you met his gaze, your hand pausing mid-air over a stack of albums. “I am offended by your words, Dr. Reid,” you replied, your tone playful, your eyes sparkling with a teasing edge.

Spencer smiled, the edges of his mouth curling up into something warmer as he continued flipping through the records, pretending to be serious. “You should be. That’s a direct quote from Rossi himself,” he said, holding up a record sleeve and giving it a quick glance before setting it back down.

Your laugh filled the space again, bright and free. You pulled another record from the shelf, this one with a faded cover you recognised from years ago. “Well, if I spend too much time with Rossi, then I guess I’m doomed to become a vinyl snob,” you joked, flipping the record over to check the tracklist. You ran your fingers over the edges of the sleeve, feeling the familiar grooves of the cover, the little imperfections that only came with time.

You glanced over at Spencer, watching him for a moment as he flipped through his own stack. There was something so easy about being with him here, in this small, dimly lit shop filled with memories and melodies. “I mean, how else are you supposed to listen to music?” you asked, raising an eyebrow dramatically as you glanced down at the album in your hands. Then, with a theatrical flair, you placed your free hand on your hip and tilted your head back, doing your best (and rather exaggerated) impersonation of Rossi. “It’s the only way to really appreciate it. The crackle, the warmth… it’s like you can feel the music,” you said, making a show of puffing out an imaginary cigar and letting the smoke trail into the air.

Spencer’s laughter was immediate, loud, and genuine, as he looked over at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Oh my God,” he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “You are way too good at that.”

You grinned, clearly pleased with yourself. “I’ve been practicing,” you said, striking a mock pose, your hand still poised as if holding the cigar, before you finally broke into another fit of laughter. Spencer couldn’t help but join you, his smile wide and full of affection. “Rossi would be proud,” he teased, his voice light, but there was a fondness in the way he looked at you.

You winked, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Well, if I’m ever in need of a new career, I think I’ve got this down.”

By the time you reached the end of your long search through the endless rows of records, you had carefully chosen a couple you were willing to splurge on. Cradling the records against your chest, you joined the line at the register, the buzz of the store humming around you.

When your turn came, you placed the records on the counter, chatting casually with the cashier as you fied through your bag for your wallet. Your voice was light, a touch distracted as your fingers rifled through your belongings.

Unbeknownst to you, Spencer had stepped closer, the faintest hint of a mischievous smile on his lips. Without a word, he slipped his card onto the reader. The machine beeped, signalling the completed transaction just as you finally found your wallet and looked up.

Confused, your gaze darted between the cashier and Spencer, who was already sliding his card back into his wallet with an air of nonchalance.

“Spencer!” you gasped, stepping out of line with him as they headed toward the exit. You gave him that look—the one that said he didn’t have to do what he just did. Your lips parted to speak, but he beat you to it.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said softly, your voice laced with both gratitude and protest. Your hazel eyes darted to the floor for a moment before flicking back to him, catching the warm, self-assured look in his own. You didn’t like people spending money on you when you had plenty of your own. The records weren’t cheap, either.

Spencer, however, shrugged it off with a quiet confidence that surprised even himself. “I wanted to,” he replied simply. His voice was calm but firm, the corners of his mouth quirking up into a gentle smile. “I asked you to come out with me, didn’t I?”

You sighed, your protest melting into a small, affectionate smile as they stepped out into the crisp air. It was such a Spencer thing to do—thoughtful and kind, but completely unnecessary. Yet, as they walked side by side, you couldn’t deny the warmth his gesture left in your chest.

You glanced up at him, your eyes twinkling with a playful edge as you broke the silence. “You’re lucky I agreed,” you teased, a grin tugging at your lips.

Spencer chuckled softly, glancing down at you. “Oh, I know,” he said, his voice low but filled with humor. “Trust me, I’m very lucky.”

They continued to walk aimlessly, the crisp evening air brushing against their faces as they strolled. Spencer was mid-thought, caught up in some internal musing when your voice broke through.

“Oh my God, Chinatown, Spencer!” you exclaimed, your voice brimming with excitement, like a child spotting a candy store.

Your eyes lit up as they landed on the colourful archway marking the entrance to Chinatown. You couldn’t quite explain it, but Chinatowns had always been your favourite places to visit. Maybe it was the vibrant atmosphere, the intricate details of the buildings, or the way everyone seemed to know one another, creating a sense of community that felt warm and welcoming. You loved every bit of it.

Without realizing it, you grabbed Spencer’s hand and tugged him along with you, your excitement bubbling over. Your grip was firm but warm, and Spencer—despite the suddenness—didn’t resist. In fact, he found himself smiling as you led him toward the bustling street.

Your face glowed brighter than he’d ever seen as you took in the sight of the ornately decorated gate ahead, its vivid reds and golds shining under the string lights that crisscrossed above the street. He didn’t know if it was your enthusiasm or the way your joy seemed to radiate outward, but he was utterly mesmerized, trailing behind you like he was under a spell.

“We should get noodles—if you’re okay with that?” you asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Spencer blinked, realizing he’d been staring at you with a soft, almost dreamy expression. The way you looked at him then—like he was the best person in the world just for being here with you—made his heart skip.

“Yeah, of course,” he replied, his voice steady but his heart racing. Without thinking, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

Your cheeks flushed at the small gesture, and Spencer caught the faintest flicker of a smile as they continued walking hand in hand. The streets were alive with energy, from the scent of freshly steamed buns wafting from carts to the hum of chatter in the air.

Eventually, they stumbled upon a quaint bakery that led to an underground noodle bar tucked just below it. The combination was irresistible. As they waited for a table, your eyes lit up when you spotted cheese-filled mooncakes in the bakery display.

“I have to try one of these,” you said eagerly, placing your order while Spencer watched you with quiet amusement.

Moments later, you held the warm pastry in your hands, your face glowing with anticipation. “This is going to be the best cheese pull you’ve ever seen,” you declared, laughing with a childlike excitement that made Spencer’s chest tighten.

You took a bite, and as you pulled back, the melted cheese stretched from your mouth to the mooncake, just as you had promised. Your eyes widened with delight, and your laughter rang out, light and contagious.

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh too, shaking his head in amazement. You were like a child in the best possible way, unguarded and full of joy.

“You were right,” he said, still chuckling. “That’s definitely the best cheese pull I’ve ever seen.”

Your grin widened, and for a moment, Spencer forgot about the bustling streets around them. All he could see was your—glowing, carefree, and absolutely captivating.

The waiter called out, “Sī bīn sài Ruì dé?” his tone polite and slightly accented as he scanned the small crowd in the restaurant’s waiting area. Spencer Reid’s head lifted, recognizing the sound of his name rendered in Mandarin. He gave a small, sheepish smile, adjusting his scarf as he turned to look at you.

You arched an amused brow, gesturing toward the waiter with a tilt of your head. “That’s you, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer nodded, his hand lightly brushing against your lower back as he led the way down the narrow staircase into the cozy, warmly lit restaurant below. The rich scent of soy sauce, garlic, and sesame oil wafted through the air, mingling with the quiet murmur of diners enjoying their meals.

The waiter guided them to a private booth tucked into the corner of the room, its dark wooden walls offering a sense of intimacy. Spencer gestured for you to slide in first, always the gentleman, before settling across from you.

The two opened their menus, the glossy pages filled with enticing photos and descriptions of diyous written in both Mandarin and English. Spencer scanned the list with the precision of someone cataloging data, while you took a more casual approach, letting your eyes linger on the pictures.

“What are you thinking of getting?” Spencer asked, glancing up at you. His hazel eyes held a mix of curiosity and hesitation, likely calculating the probabilities of making the wrong choice in an unfamiliar culinary landscape.

You smiled, leaning slightly over the menu to point at the dishes you had your eye on. “I was thinking Beef Noodle Soup and maybe a fried rice platter. If you wanted to share?”

Your suggestion was casual, but you knew Spencer well enough to recognise that sharing food might not be his first choice. The germaphobic tendencies you’d seen surface in the past made your offer feel like a gamble. If he declined, you’d simply adjust your order—no harm, no foul.

Spencer’s brow furrowed slightly, his fingers drumming lightly against the edge of the menu. “Sharing…” he began, his tone thoughtful. “It’s not usually my preference, but—” He paused, studying your face as though weighing the pros and cons of stepping out of his comfort zone. “I think I could make an exception. Just… no double-dipping,” he added with a faint smile, his attempt at humour not lost on you.

You chuckled softly, your shoulders relaxing. “Deal. I’ll even promise to use the serving spoon if it helps.”

His smile widened, the corners of his mouth quirking upward in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “That would be appreciated.”

As the waiter returned to take their order, Spencer let you take the lead, quietly observing your interactions. The way you spoke with ease, your smile lighting up the space between them, was something he never grew tired of.

After the waiter left, the two settled into conversation, the hum of the restaurant serving as a comforting backdrop. You caught him glancing at you from time to time, his expression soft and unguarded.

“Two Beef Noodle Soup and fried rice,” he mused after a moment. “Good choices. Did you know Beef Noodle Soup is considered a national dish in Taiwan? There’s even an annual festival where chefs compete to create the best version of it.”

Your eyes sparkled with interest. “I didn’t know that. How do you even know things like that off the top of your head?”

Spencer shrugged, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “I read a lot.”

You laughed, leaning forward slightly. “Of course you do. But that’s one of the things I love about you, you know. You always have the most random, fascinating facts tucked away in that big brain of yours.”

His blush deepened, and he ducked his head slightly, fiddling with the edge of his napkin. “I’m glad you think so,” he murmured.

Their food arrived not long after, the diyous steaming and fragrant, the aroma instantly making your stomach rumble. You reached for your chopsticks, but before you could start serving yourself, Spencer gently took the plate from your side.

“Allow me,” he said, his tone soft but resolute, as though he had been planning this move.

You blinked in surprise, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Wow, chivalry isn’t dead after all. I was starting to wonder.”

Spencer shot you a mock-offended look as he carefully portioned out some of the sizzling stir-fry onto your plate. “Hey, I can be chivalrous. I just… don’t get much practice. Sharing food isn’t exactly in my top five skills.”

You laughed, nudging his arm. “You don’t say. Should I feel honoured or concerned?”

“Definitely honoured,” he replied, finishing your plate with an exaggerated flourish. “This is a rare occurrence. Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Oh, I’m definitely documenting this,” you teased, pulling out your phone and snapping a quick photo of him mid-serve. “The great Dr. Spencer Reid, putting others first. What’s next, you’re going to offer me the last bite?”

Spencer smirked as he served himself. “Let’s not get carried away.”

As they began eating, you picked up a particularly long noodle with your chopsticks and dangled it in front of your face. “Do you think this could double as a jump rope for ants?”

Spencer nearly choked on his bite of rice, laughing. “That is… an incredibly specific visual. Why ants? Why not, I don’t know, mice?”

“Too predictable,” you replied, twirling the noodle like you were considering its durability. “Ants have more finesse. They’d appreciate the artistry.”

“Ah, yes, the ant gymnast community,” Spencer said, adjusting his glasses and leaning forward as though about to deliver a lecture. “You know, ants can actually carry up to fifty times their body weight, so a noodle would be the perfect workout tool.”

You grinned, using your chopsticks to make the noodles “jump” across your plate. “You’re making my case for me. Ant Olympics, here we come.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Thank you,” you said brightly, slurping the noodle up with a playful flourish.

Spencer raised an eyebrow and then, without a word, picked up a dumpling with his chopsticks and held it in front of his mouth. He narrowed his eyes, suddenly serious. “If I were an ant, this would be like carrying a wrecking ball.”

You burst out laughing, nearly dropping your chopsticks. “You’re so weird!”

“Only because you bring it out of me,” he replied, popping the dumpling into his mouth with a small, triumphant smile.

They continued their meal, each taking turns to make the other laugh with increasingly absurd food-related jokes. Spencer even attempted to balance a broccoli floret on his nose, which ended with you snorting and him losing the floret mid-laugh.

By the time they finished, your sides ached from laughing, and Spencer looked more relaxed than you’d seen him in weeks. As he reached for the bill, you caught his hand and grinned.

“See? Sharing isn’t so bad,” you teased.

He smiled back, his eyes warm. “Only with you.”

Once they left Chinatown, the streets of Washington, D.C. buzzed with life, but Spencer and you were lost in their own little world, laughing uncontrollably over the events of the day. Every inside joke and playful jab sent them spiraling into fits of laughter, their shared energy a bright spot in the bustling city. For Spencer, the date had already been perfect, but he wasn’t ready for it to end just yet. He had one last plan to cap off the evening, though it wouldn’t come into play for hours. Until then, he just needed to keep you distracted.

You nudged him playfully as they strolled along. “Alright, something you never got to do as a kid but always wanted to,” you said, your tone suddenly serious despite the twinkle of curiosity in your eyes.

Spencer hesitated, the question catching him off guard. He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile creeping across his face. “I don’t know,” he began, his voice soft. “I’ve always liked reading books and spending time with my mom.” He glanced at you, embarrassed by how ordinary his answer sounded.

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, grounding him. “That’s sweet, Spence,” you said softly. “But come on, there’s gotta be something.”

He exhaled a small laugh, his gaze shifting to the pavement as he admitted, “Well, I always wanted to play Laser Tag.”

You stopped in your tracks, your hazel eyes wide with disbelief. “Wait. You’ve never played Laser Tag?”

Spencer shrugged, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. “I mean, no, not really. It just never came up.”

You were already shaking your head in mock horror. “That’s unacceptable. We’re fixing this right now.”

“It’s fine. We don’t have to—”

But you were already tugging him along with determined speed. “Nope. This is happening. You’re about to experience the childhood you missed out on, and it’s going to be amazing.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at your enthusiasm, your energy was contagious. Before he knew it, they were standing at the counter of a nearby arcade, you grinning ear to ear as you requested two tickets for Laser Tag.

Spencer tried one last time to protest. “Really, you don’t have to do this—”

“Consider it my treat,” you interrupted, handing over your card to the cashier. “A thank-you for the best day I’ve had in a long time.”

The sincerity in your voice silenced his objections, and he felt his heart swell. As the cashier handed them their gear, you turned to him with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“Alright, Dr. Reid,” you teased, strapping on your vest. “Let’s see if all that genius-level intellect helps you out on the battlefield.”

Spencer laughed, shaking his head. “You’re going to regret this. I may not have played before, but I’m pretty sure I’m about to win.”

“Bold of you to assume,” you shot back with a smirk, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the arena.

As they stepped into the dimly lit room filled with neon lights and fog machines, Spencer felt an unexpected rush of excitement. You turned to him, your face illuminated by the glowing lights, and he couldn’t help but smile. Maybe he’d been missing out, but with you by his side, he was more than ready to make up for lost time.

The neon lights flickered, casting an otherworldly glow over the Laser Tag arena. Fog swirled around Spencer and you as they ducked behind barriers and navigated the maze-like layout. The sound of distant footsteps and laser beams zipping through the air made it feel like they’d stepped into a sci-fi movie.

Spencer crouched low, trying to strategize his next move, but your sudden battle cry made him jump. You darted out from behind a glowing pillar, your laughter echoing through the arena as you fired your laser, landing a direct hit on his vest.

“Gotcha!” you shouted triumphantly, your grin wide and uncontainable.

Spencer stumbled back in mock defeat, his hands raised. “Okay, okay, truce! I’m still learning!”

You rolled your eyes, playfully wagging a finger at him. “No mercy, Reid. You’re my bitch now.”

You turned to sprint away, but Spencer surprised you by diving behind a barrier and quickly firing back. The red lights on your vest lit up, signalling a hit.

“Ha! Who’s the genius now?” he teased, standing up with a victorious smirk.

You clutched your chest dramatically, pretending to be mortally wounded. “Betrayed… by my own date!” you gasped, collapsing onto a nearby barrier.

Spencer burst into laughter, his usually reserved demeanor completely melting away. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, shaking his head as he helped your back up.

“And you love it,” you quipped, sticking your tongue out before taking off into the maze again.

The game continued, a back-and-forth of sneak attacks, exaggerated reactions, and endless laughter. Every hit was met with playful banter, and every moment felt like peeling back the layers of their guarded hearts. Spencer, who had always been so serious and calculated, found himself letting go, caught up in the pure, childlike joy of the moment.

At one point, they both ended up crouched behind the same barrier, breathless and laughing so hard their sides hurt. You leaned your head against his shoulder, your face flushed from running. “Okay, I admit it,” you said between giggles. “You’re pretty good for a first-timer.”

Spencer glanced at you, his hazel eyes sparkling in the dim light. “I had a good teacher,” he replied softly.

For a moment, the chaos around them faded. They were just two people, sitting side by side, finding solace in each other’s company.

You nudged him gently. “See? Childhood dream fulfilled. What’s next on your list?”

He chuckled, his gaze dropping to the glowing floor. “Honestly? I think this might be enough for one night.”

“Enough?” you teased. “We’ve barely scratched the surface! Next time, we’re doing bumper cars.”

Spencer laughed, the sound light and genuine. “I think I’m going to need a lot of next times with you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your expression softened, and you reached out to take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Then we’ll make that happen,” you promised.

As the game timer buzzed, signalling the end of their session, Spencer and you made their way out of the arena, still laughing and teasing each other. A leaderboard lit up on the screen near the exit, and Spencer froze, his eyes widening.

“No way,” he murmured, stepping closer to the display.

You leaned over his shoulder, squinting at the screen. Your jaw dropped when you saw his name at the top of the list. “You won?!” you exclaimed, grabbing his arm and shaking it excitedly. “Spencer Reid, first-time Laser Tag champion! I’m so proud of you!”

He turned to you, his grin almost bashful but undeniably proud. “Beginner’s luck, maybe?”

“Absolutely not,” you said, your face lighting up with genuine excitement. “You crushed it out there! I mean, I’m a little salty that you beat me, but still—you’re officially a Laser Tag legend.”

Spencer laughed, the sound bubbling out of him with pure joy. “A legend, huh? I’ll take it.”

You playfully bumped your shoulder against his. “You better. This is a big deal! You’ve got bragging rights now.”

As they stepped out of the arcade into the cool night air, you looped your arm through his, your energy still electric. “Okay, next time we’re teaming up. Imagine what we could do together!”

Spencer looked down at you, his heart warm and full. “I think we’d be unstoppable,” he said, his voice soft but confident.

As they walked down the busy streets, still laughing and recounting the best moments of the game, Spencer couldn’t help but feel like he’d won more than just Laser Tag. With you by his side, he’d found something he hadn’t even realized he’d been missing—a piece of joy, of freedom, of connection that made him feel whole again.

As they continued down the lively streets of D.C., Spencer’s smile lingered, a quiet sense of contentment radiating from him. You were still buzzing from the Laser Tag victory, your hand resting comfortably in his as they walked.

“Alright, Dr. Reid,” you said playfully, looking up at him. “What’s next on this magical mystery tour of a date? Because if it’s as fun as Laser Tag, I might actually burst from happiness.”

Spencer chuckled, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief. “Well,” he began, his voice soft but teasing, “I do have one more thing planned. But it’s a surprise.”

Your eyes widened with curiosity. “A surprise? Spencer Reid, you’re full of secrets tonight. What is it?”

He shook his head, his lips curving into a sly smile. “You’ll see. Just trust me.”

“Always,” you said with a grin, letting him guide you down a quieter street.

The hum of the city faded as they walked, replaced by a peaceful stillness. You tilted your head, trying to guess where he was taking you, but Spencer kept quiet, his excitement barely contained. Finally, they rounded a corner, and your breath caught as the grand façade of the National Gallery of Art came into view, illuminated beautifully against the night sky.

“Spencer,” you whispered, awe in your voice. “The art museum? It’s closed right now.”

He smiled, his fingers lacing tighter with yours. “Not for us.”

As if on cue, a side door to the museum opened, and a man in his mid-thirties stepped out, waving at Spencer.

“Dr. Reid!” the man called warmly. “Right on time.”

“Thanks, Jacob,” Spencer said, his voice full of gratitude. He turned to you, his expression soft. “Jacob’s a curator here. He agreed to stay late and let us in. Just us.”

Your jaw dropped as you looked between Spencer and Jacob. “You’re kidding. We get the whole museum to ourselves?”

Spencer nodded, his heart fluttering at the pure joy on your face. “I thought you might like it. I know how much you love art, and, well… I wanted to do something special for you.”

You blinked back a sudden wave of emotion, your chest tightening with affection. “Spencer, this is… this is incredible. Thank you.”

He smiled, a little shyly. “You’re worth it.”

Jacob opened the door wider, gesturing them inside. “Enjoy yourselves. I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

As they stepped into the museum, the quiet echoed around them, amplifying the beauty of the vast, empty halls. The dim lighting highlighted the paintings and sculptures, making it feel like they’d stepped into another world.

You turned to Spencer, your eyes shining. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

He ducked his head, his cheeks tinged pink. “I just wanted to give you something memorable. Something… magical.”

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. “You’ve done more than that, Spence. This is perfect.”

He smiled, his heart swelling at your words. “Come on,” he said softly, leading you toward the first exhibit. “Let’s explore.”

And together, hand in hand, they wandered through the museum, the art and the quiet intimacy of the moment weaving a memory neither of them would ever forget.

The museum was humour, the kind of quiet that invited reverence and reflection. Their footsteps echoed faintly as they moved through the halls, pausing here and there to admire a painting or sculpture. Spencer’s hand lingered at your lower back, a subtle gesture to guide you but also to stay close, as if the intimacy of the space demanded it.

They came to a room filled with sculptures, the soft lighting casting long shadows that danced on the walls. Your attention was immediately drawn to a particular piece—a sculpture of two women, one older, one younger, the younger standing on the shoulders of the older as if reaching for something just out of sight.

You stopped in your tracks, your breath catching slightly. Spencer noticed your stillness and took a step back, letting your take in the piece without interruption. Your expression shifted, your usual brightness giving way to something quieter, deeper.

After a few moments, he couldn’t help but break the silence, his voice soft so as not to disturb the moment. “How does it make you feel?”

You didn’t turn to him right away. Your eyes remained fixed on the sculpture, your hands loosely clasped in front of you. When you finally spoke, your voice was low but steady, carrying the weight of your thoughts.

“Seen,” you said simply, then paused as if to find the right words. “In a weird way. I don’t think I’d be who I am without my mother, and this piece proves it in a way. It makes me feel less alone too, like I’m not the only one who sees myself this way.”

Spencer tilted his head, his gaze flickering between you and the sculpture. He could see it now—the younger woman’s outstretched hands, the older one’s steadying stance. The balance between them spoke volumes about trust, sacrifice, and love.

“You feel like you’re standing on your shoulders,” he said softly, almost to himself.

You nodded, finally glancing at him. “Yeah. Every step I’ve taken has been because you let me stand on your foundation. Even when things weren’t perfect, you were still there, holding me up.” You smiled faintly, a bittersweet curve of your lips. “It’s nice to see it represented like this, you know? It’s like… someone else understands.”

Spencer took a small step closer, his voice gentle. “You’d be proud of you. I don’t think anyone could look at what you’ve built for yourself and feel anything less.”

You turned fully to face him now, your hazel eyes soft but shining. “Thank you, Spence. That means a lot.”

He gave you a small smile, his hands in his pockets as he glanced back at the sculpture. “It’s beautiful. Just like the way you see the world.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re such a charmer, you know that?”

“Not really,” he admitted with a small chuckle, “but I mean it.”

For a while longer, they stayed there, side by side, letting the sculpture’s quiet power wash over them. In that moment, it wasn’t just art—it was a connection, a shared understanding that went deeper.

The weight of the moment lifted as they moved on, wandering into another section of the museum. The air between them felt lighter now, a quiet understanding still lingering but giving way to the playful energy they always seemed to share.

It started with a chuckle from you, your hand covering your mouth as you stopped in front of a sculpture of a stern-looking man with an exaggeratedly large nose. “Okay, tell me that doesn’t look like Hotch when he’s annoyed,” you whispered, your eyes sparkling mischievously.

Spencer glanced at the sculpture and bit back a laugh. “It’s the eyebrows,” he said, nodding in agreement.

You gasped, pointing. “The eyebrows! Yes! It’s like he’s about to say, ‘Reid, stop overexplaining.’"

Spencer laughed, his face lighting up in a way that made your heart skip. “Okay, okay, but look at this one,” he said, leading you to a nearby bust of a man whose face was frozen in a hilariously exaggerated scowl. “Tell me that’s not Rossi after someone forgets to bring him coffee.”

You burst out laughing, clapping a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound. “Oh my God, it’s perfect!” you managed between giggles.

They moved from sculpture to sculpture, pointing out ridiculous expressions and coming up with stories for each one. Spencer, ever the genius, concocted elaborate backstories for the pieces, each one more absurd than the last.

“This one,” he said, gesturing to a marble figure of a man dramatically clutching his chest, “was probably just told that his favorite gelato shop ran out of pistachio.”

You doubled over laughing, your cheeks aching from smiling so much. “Stop, you’re going to get us kicked out!” you said, though your laughter made it clear you didn’t mean it.

“You’re the one who started it,” he teased, his grin wide and unrestrained.

They rounded a corner and found themselves in front of a statue of a cherub with a particularly mischievous expression. Spencer tilted his head. “This one’s definitely plotting something. Probably planning to steal cookies from the other cherubs.”

You wiped a tear from your eyes, still laughing. “You’re too good at this. Have you been secretly practicing?”

He shrugged, a playful glint in his eye. “What can I say? I’m a natural.”

As they continued exploring, their laughter echoed softly through the empty halls, their joy filling the quiet space. For a little while, they let themselves be kids again—carefree, silly, and completely immersed in the moment.

Spencer, usually so reserved and composed, felt freer than he had in years. And you, watching him let loose, felt your heart swell with happiness. It wasn’t just about the art or the laughter—it was about being together, sharing a moment that was uniquely theirs.

When they finally paused to catch their breath, leaning against a wall in between fits of giggles, Spencer looked at you with a soft smile. “This might be the most fun I’ve ever had in a museum.”

You grinned, your eyes shining. “I told you, you just needed the right partner in crime.”

He nodded, his expression warm. “I think I found them.”

And with that, they set off again, hand in hand, ready to see what other treasures—and laughs—the museum had to offer.

As they wandered back toward the grand central hall of the museum, the playful energy between them began to settle into something softer, quieter. The warm lighting of the space casts a golden glow over the room, highlighting the details of the sculptures and paintings around them. You paused by a large marble statue of a couple intertwined in an eternal embrace, your gaze lingering on the delicate way the sculptor had captured the curve of their hands and the tilt of their heads.

Spencer stopped beside you, his eyes following yours to the statue. He said nothing, but the air between them shifted, heavy with unspoken thoughts. The laughter from earlier seemed to hang in the distance, replaced by a gentle stillness.

You turned your head to look at him, your expression soft, your lips parted slightly as if you wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. Spencer’s gaze flickered from the statue to you, his heart stuttering as he caught the way the golden light played on your features.

Neityour of them spoke. They didn’t need to.

Spencer’s hand reached out, slow and hesitant, his fingertips brushing against yours. The touch was featyour-light, but it sent a ripple through both of them, grounding them in the moment.

Your eyes searched his, questioning, yet trusting. He took a step closer, the space between them shrinking until it was almost nonexistent.

Your breath hitched, your heart racing as his face hovered close to yours. The world around them seemed to blur, the art and the quiet fading into the background as the only thing that mattered was him—his eyes, his presence, the warmth of him so close.

Spencer hesitated, his gaze flicking to your lips and back to your eyes, as if silently asking for permission. You gave him the faintest nod, your lips curving into a soft, encouraging smile.

It was painfully slow, the kind of moment that stretched on forever, but neither of them rushed it. Their foreheads brushed first, a tentative, intimate touch that sent shivers down your spine. His nose bumped yours lightly, their breaths mingling in the small space between them.

And then, finally, achingly, his lips met yours.

The kiss was soft, and unhurried, a perfect balance of tenderness and curiosity. His hand cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing your skin as if you were something fragile, something to be cherished You leaned into him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt to steady yourself as your heart soared.

Time seemed to stop entirely. There was no overthinking, no second-guessing—just the quiet certainty that this was exactly where they were meant to be.

When they finally pulled back, their faces still close, neither of them spoke right away. Spencer’s eyes searched yours, his expression a mix of wonder and disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

You smiled softly, your thumb brushing over the back of his hand. “That felt… right,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Spencer nodded, his lips curving into the faintest smile. “It did,” he agreed, his voice equally quiet.

And as they stood there, bathed in the golden light of the museum, they both knew they’d just shared a moment they’d carry with them forever.

Hand in hand, they made their way back toward the main entrance of the museum, their fingers still entwined as they shared quiet smiles and the lingering warmth of the kiss. The halls, now empty of their playful laughter, seemed to hum with the remnants of the night’s magic, a soft kind of peace wrapping around them.

When they reached the front, they were met by Jacob, who was standing by the gift shop, a welcoming grin on his face.

“Did you two enjoy the private tour?” he asked, clearly amused by the soft glow in their expressions.

“It was perfect,” You replied, your voice light with contentment. “We couldn’t have asked for a better night.”

Spencer gave Jacob a small nod of thanks, and they made their way toward the gift shop. Of course, you, ever the curious soul, immediately started scanning the shelves, your eyes lighting up as you spotted a section of artist books and unique prints.

Spencer stood back a little, letting you take it all in. It was clear from the way you were absorbed in the display that you were in your element. Your fingers traced the spines of the books, your eyes lingering on the vibrant art, the words, and the stories behind them. It was a rare thing to see you so lost in admiration, and he couldn’t help but smile as he watched you, appreciating the way you connected with the world through art.

You picked up one of the books, flipping it open to the first page. “Spence,” you called softly, turning to him with a gentle smile. “Which artist was it who made that sculpture of the two women?”

Spencer walked over to you, his gaze following yours to the shelf where the artist’s work was displayed. He didn’t need to think twice. “Julie Rrap,” he replied.

You nodded, your fingers brushing the cover of the book titled Body Double. You seemed almost hesitant at first, as if deciding whether or not to pick it up. But then, with a quiet sense of reverence, you carefully opened the book and placed it in your hands, holding it close to your chest for a moment before glancing back at Spencer.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice filled with gratitude. There was something in your eyes—something that said this moment meant more to you than you could express.

Spencer smiled warmly, his heart swelling a little. “I’m glad you like it.”

You ran your thumb along the edges of the book, your gaze still soft as you flipped through the pages, your eyes drinking in the art and the words. It was as if the world had slowed down again, and they were both wrapped in the quiet, intimate moment of shared appreciation.

“I think I’m going to get this,” you said, your voice thoughtful, almost to yourself. “It’s… I don’t know. It feels important.”

Spencer nodded, his gaze still on you as you carefully placed the book in your arms, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “It’s yours. You deserve it.”

Spencer reached into his pocket as they approached the counter, his hand finding yours once more, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He placed the book and a few other items you had picked out onto the counter. Jacob, who had been standing nearby, gave them both a knowing smile as he rang up the items.

“You two seem like you had a good time,” Jacob said, his tone light and friendly.

Spencer smiled, pulling out his wallet. “It was a perfect night, thanks to you.”

You turned to Jacob with a grateful expression, your eyes bright. “Thank you for letting us stay after hours. It really made the evening special.”

Jacob nodded, giving you a small wink. “Anytime. Glad you enjoyed it. You two have a good rest of the night.”

After Spencer finished paying, he gathered the items and handed them to you, who accepted them with a soft smile. “Thanks again,” you said, your voice warm.

With a final wave to Jacob, they left the gift shop and stepped into the cool night air. The city was quieter now, the streets bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. As they walked toward Spencer’s apartment, the evening felt like a perfect bookend to a day full of laughter, art, and unexpected moments of connection.

Spencer, his arm casually draped over your shoulder, pulled you closer as they walked. “So, what do you think? A quiet night in to wrap things up?” he asked, a playful note in his voice.

You smiled, your eyes glinting with excitement. “Sounds perfect.”

They continued down the sidewalk, their footsteps in sync, the world around them fading away as they looked forward to whatever came next—together.

thank you for reading!

please like & reblog if you enjoyed!

part two!

masterlist!

[moonlightwritingf1]

The Sweet Surprise | LN4

⋆˚✿˖° summary ━━━━━━━ Lando finds Y/N's sex toy

⋆˚✿˖° pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

⋆˚✿˖° word count ━━━━━━━ 2.7k

⋆˚✿˖° warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

Based on this request.

It was a quiet Friday evening in London, the sky painted with hues of pink and orange as the sun began to set. Inside her apartment, Y/N was still at work, wrapped up in her typical 9-to-5 routine. The familiar hum of her laptop screen and the rustle of papers were the only sounds filling the space. But there was something different in the air today, something she couldn’t quite place. Perhaps it was the way the evening light seemed to make the room feel a little warmer, or maybe it was the anticipation of the surprise she knew was coming.

Lando had always been a bit unpredictable when it came to their time together. After weeks of gentle teasing and persistent gifts, she had finally agreed to go on a date with him—six dates, to be precise. Each one had brought them closer, the chemistry undeniable, the tension palpable. Yet, Y/N couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he was just playing with her. She wasn’t sure whether he was serious about her or simply enjoying the chase. And as much as she tried to convince herself that she wasn’t falling for him, she couldn’t ignore the fluttering in her stomach whenever she saw him.

Tonight, she had no idea what to expect. All she knew was that Lando was coming over, and he had promised her a surprise.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

She opened the door to find Lando standing there, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. In his hands was a box, carefully wrapped with a ribbon. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” he said, his voice low, yet teasing. “I brought you something.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, feeling a sudden wave of curiosity. “What’s this?”

Lando grinned mischievously. “You’ll see. Open it.”

Inside the box was a cake—no ordinary cake, but the one from her favorite bakery. The one she had mentioned in passing months ago, how she rarely got the chance to have it because it was always sold out. Lando had somehow managed to secure a special order, paying extra for the bakery to make it just for her.

“You actually got it?” she asked, her voice filled with surprise. “How did you even—”

“I have my ways,” he said with a wink. “But you deserve something special. I figured this would be the perfect treat.”

Her heart warmed at the gesture. She hadn’t expected something so thoughtful. “You really went all out.”

“I would do anything for you,” he said softly, his eyes locking with hers. “I hope you like it.”

They sat down together, savoring the rich layers of the cake, the sweetness of the moment matching the sweetness of the dessert. The conversation flowed easily, the two of them slipping into a comfortable rhythm. The tension between them was undeniable, but they both danced around it—teasing, flirting, but never crossing the line.

After they finished their cake, Y/N stood up to put the remaining slices in the fridge. As she did, Lando leaned back in his chair, watching her with that familiar glint in his eyes.

“So,” Lando said casually, leaning against the kitchen counter as he watched her put away the leftover cake. His tone was smooth, almost too casual. “Do you have the book you promised me?”

Y/N glanced over her shoulder, momentarily confused. “Book?”

“Yes, the one you said I absolutely have to read,” he replied, smirking. “You said it’s in your room.''

“Oh!” Y/N’s eyes widened as realization struck. “Right. That book.”

He chuckled softly, amused by how easily distracted she was. “Where is it?”

“It’s on my nightstand,” she said, closing the fridge door. “You can grab it. I think it’s on top of the stack.”

“Sure,” Lando said, pushing off the counter and heading toward her bedroom.

Y/N didn’t think twice about it. Why would she? The book was exactly where she said it was, and her room was relatively tidy—at least, she thought it was. She turned back to the counter, wiping it down absentmindedly as her mind wandered to the cake he had surprised her with.

Meanwhile, Lando stepped into her room, his gaze immediately falling on the nightstand. The book was there, just as she’d said, but his attention didn’t stay on it for long.

Because there, on the bed, lying in plain sight, was something far more attention-grabbing: her dildo.

He blinked, taken aback for a second, before a slow, mischievous grin spread across his face. Of all the things he’d expected to find, this was certainly not one of them.

“Did you find it?” Y/n called out from the kitchen, her voice carrying a casual tone as she slid the remaining slice of cake into the fridge. The sweet aroma of vanilla and buttercream lingered in the air, mingling with the faint scent of Lando’s cologne that seemed to follow him everywhere.

Silence.

“Lando?” she tried again, this time tilting her head toward the hallway leading to her bedroom. Her heart began to thud softly in her chest, a nervous flutter she couldn’t quite explain. She wiped her hands on a dish towel and stepped into the hallway, her bare feet padding softly against the hardwood floor.

When she reached her bedroom door, she froze.

Lando was standing by her bed, his back to her, shoulders tense. His gaze was fixed on something on the mattress, something Y/n had completely forgotten about until now. Her dildo.

Oh God. Her stomach dropped. Heat rushed to her cheeks, spreading down her neck and across her chest. How could I forget? Earlier that day, after a particularly steamy session in the shower, she’d left it there, too lost in her own thoughts to remember to put it away.

“Uh…” she started, her voice barely audible. “I can explain…”

Lando turned slowly, his blue/ green eyes darkening as they met hers. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but it wasn’t mocking—it was hungry. “Explain what?” he said, his voice low and smooth, like honey dripping off a spoon. “That you like to keep things… handy?”

Y/n crossed her arms over her chest, trying to will away the embarrassment. “It’s not what you think,” she muttered, though even she knew how weak that sounded.

Lando took a step closer, his fingers brushing against the edge of the bed. “Oh, I think it’s exactly what I think,” he said, his tone teasing yet laced with something deeper. Something raw. He picked up the toy, turning it over in his hands as if inspecting it. “Impressive size,” he added, his smirk widening. “Guess you don’t settle for less, huh?”

She groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Could you not?”

He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. “Why? Embarrassed?” He closed the distance between them, stopping just inches from her. His free hand reached out, gently tugging one of hers away from her face. “You shouldn’t be.”

His touch was warm, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a way that made her breath catch. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, searching his for any hint of judgment. But all she found was… desire.

“Lando…” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He leaned in, his lips hovering just above hers. “Do you really think I care about that?” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. “If anything, it just makes me wonder… What else are you hiding behind that tough-girl act of yours?”

She swallowed hard, her mind racing. This was dangerous. Too dangerous. She’d spent months keeping him at arm’s length, convincing herself he wasn’t serious, that he didn’t see her the way she secretly hoped he did. But now, with him so close, with his words unraveling her defenses, she wasn’t sure she could hold back anymore.

“I’m not hiding anything,” she lied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Bullshit,” he said bluntly, his tone firm yet gentle. “You’re always hiding, Y/n. Behind your sarcasm, your independence, your I-don’t-need-anyone attitude. But I see you. I always have.”

Her breath hitched. No one had ever talked to her like this, stripped her bare with just a few words. It terrified her. And yet…

Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “And what if you don’t like what you see?”

He paused, his expression softening. Slowly, he set the toy down on the nightstand and cupped her face in his hands. His touch was so tender, so genuine, it nearly brought tears to her eyes. “I already do,” he said, his voice steady. “Every single part of you.”

The room felt impossibly small, the air thick with tension. Y/n’s heart pounded in her chest as she searched his face, looking for any sign of deceit. But there was none. Just honesty. And something else… something that made her knees weak.

“Lando…” she breathed, her resolve crumbling.

He didn’t wait for her to finish. His lips crashed onto hers, the kiss fierce and hungry, as if he’d been holding back for far too long. Y/n gasped into his mouth, her hands instinctively clutching the front of his shirt. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers, and she melted into him, every thought, every doubt, vanishing in an instant.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathing heavily, Lando rested his forehead against hers. “Stop running from me,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “Let me in.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, her body trembling with the weight of his words. She wanted to. God, she wanted to. But fear still lingered, clawing at the edges of her mind.

“What if I’m not enough for you?” she asked, her voice breaking.

He pulled back slightly, his hands still cradling her face. “You already are,” he said firmly. “You always have been.”

She searched his eyes, finding nothing but sincerity. For the first time in months, maybe even years, she let herself believe it.

“Okay,” she whispered.

His lips curved into a soft smile, and he kissed her again, this time slower, more tender. Their bodies pressed together, heat building between them, until neither of them could think straight.

“Bed,” Lando murmured against her lips, his voice husky.

She nodded, her heart racing as he guided her backward, their movements clumsy yet frantic. When the back of her knees hit the mattress, she fell onto it, pulling him down with her. He hovered above her, his eyes burning with desire as he brushed a strand of hair from her face.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

She shook her head, her hands gripping the collar of his shirt. “Don’t you dare.”

Lando’s lips trailed down her neck, leaving a searing path of heat as his fingers gently traced the curve of her waist. Y/n’s breath hitched, her mind still reeling from the intensity of their kiss. She could feel the weight of him above her, the warmth of his body pressing into hers, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

His hand slid lower, brushing against her thigh, and she instinctively parted her legs, inviting him closer. But instead of continuing where she expected, Lando pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with mischief as he glanced toward the bed. Her cheeks flushed when she realized what—or rather, who—he was looking at.

The dildo. Still lying there, shamelessly exposed.

“So…” Lando drawled, his voice low and teasing. “Is this how you spend your Friday nights?”

Y/n groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Oh my God, can we just forget about that?”

He chuckled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Why would I want to forget?” His fingers brushed over her wrist, prying her hands away from her face so he could look into her eyes. “I think it’s hot.”

Her heart raced at his words, and she bit her lip, unsure how to respond. Hot? The idea of him finding something like that attractive made her stomach flip in the most delicious way. But before she could say anything, Lando reached for the toy, holding it up between them with a smirk.

“You know,” he said, his tone dripping with playful confidence, “I could give you a much better experience than this.”

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening as she processed his words. “W-what are you saying?”

Instead of answering, he leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “Let me show you.”

A wave of heat surged through her, pooling at her core. She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, all she could do was nod weakly as Lando moved down her body, his hands trailing along her skin. He pushed her dress higher, exposing her thighs, and she tensed slightly, her nerves getting the better of her.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice soothing despite the wicked grin on his face. “Just let me take care of you.”

She swallowed hard, her pulse pounding in her ears as she watched him position himself between her legs. His gaze locked with hers, and he held up the dildo, his expression daring her to stop him. With deliberate precision, he slid her panties to the side, exposing her to him fully. But she didn’t stop him. She couldn’t. The anticipation was too intense, the desire too overwhelming.

When the cool silicone touched her bare skin, she gasped, her hips arching instinctively. Lando’s free hand pressed against her hip, holding her steady as he teased her with the toy, tracing slow, deliberate circles around her most sensitive spot.

“You like that?” he asked, his voice rough with need.

All she could manage was a whimper, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. The sensation was maddening, every touch sending jolts of pleasure through her body. And then, just as she thought she couldn’t take anymore, he pressed the tip of the dildo against her entrance, slowly pushing it inside.

Her back arched off the bed, a moan escaping her lips as she felt herself stretching to accommodate it. Lando’s eyes never left her face, watching intently as he began to move it in and out, setting a slow, teasing rhythm.

“Fuck,” she breathed, her head falling back against the pillow. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt before—the coldness of the toy contrasting with the heat of his touch, the way he seemed to know exactly how to move to drive her wild.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Lando murmured, his voice thick with admiration. “Completely undone.”

She opened her eyes, locking gazes with him, and saw the raw desire in his expression. It sent a thrill through her, knowing that she was the one who had put that look on his face. Without thinking, she reached for him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him down for a bruising kiss.

Their lips clashed together, messy and desperate, as he continued to work the dildo inside her. The dual sensations were almost too much—the deep, filling pressure of the toy combined with the soft, insistent movements of Lando’s tongue against hers.

“More,” she begged against his mouth, her voice trembling with need.

He obliged without hesitation, increasing the speed and intensity of his thrusts until she was writhing beneath him, her nails digging into his shoulders. Every nerve in her body was alight, every inch of her skin on fire. She could feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter until it threatened to snap.

“Lando,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “I-I’m close.”

“Come for me,” he commanded, his tone firm yet tender. “Let go.”

And just like that, she shattered. Pleasure exploded through her, white-hot and all-consuming, as her body convulsed around the toy. Lando held her through it, his arms wrapped tightly around her as she rode out the waves of ecstasy.

When she finally came down, her chest heaving and her limbs boneless, Lando set the dildo aside and shifted to lay beside her. He brushed her damp hair from her face, his eyes soft with affection.

“See?” he said, his voice laced with smug satisfaction. “Told you I’d do better.”

She laughed breathlessly, her cheeks flushing again. “Okay, fine. You win.”

“Good,” he replied, leaning in to capture her lips in another kiss. This one was slower, more tender, but no less passionate. When he pulled away, his eyes sparkled with mischief once more.

“But don’t think for a second I’m done with you yet.”