#this made me laugh so much i have to have it on here

[g1rld1ary]

well kept secret - spencer reid x hotch's daughter!reader

wc: 1420

cw: none!

me: back on my criminal minds grind... also im not gonna lie to u guys i just got back from a hosue party and im extremely drunk, so if u see any mistakes don't be afraid to lmk. also if u have any requests for hotch!daughter pls send them thru bc im heavy into reid rn i just adore him <3

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“Who is that?” JJ asked, pointing subtly over to the figure walking cautiously out of the elevator doors. The figure, of course, being you, nervously trying to find your way around the glitzy BAU offices.

“God knows we needed a new pretty face around here — no offence, ladies,” Morgan laughed, drawing well-humoured insults from the women of the office.

“I for one don’t take any offence, her shoes are so cute!” Garcia gushed from over Morgan’s shoulder, eyes locked on your sleek black heels.

“Oh my god, they look just like the ones in that window we passed on the way to dinner, don’t you remember? Even Hotch said they were nice!” Kate wheeled her way into the conversation on her swivel chair.

It was a slow day around the office, not something that went unappreciated, so each agent was eagerly amenable to conversation.

“Reid, come over here,” Morgan beckoned, “Has she ever been here before?”

“Me?” He spluttered, eyes searching frantically, “Why would you ask me? Hundreds of people come into this building every day, let alone the thousands we see on the street every day, on cases—”

“And you have an eidetic memory kid, are you thinking straight or is the pretty girl messing up Boy Genius?”

Reid would drop dead before admitting that Morgan’s words had any truth to them, but his usually overactive speech pattern was halted by the vision of you entering the office’s glass double doors. His mouth dried out as you looked around, obviously unsure of where you were headed.

“No,” He finally answered, “I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

“She looks lost. Kind of scared, even?” JJ was giving her signature maternal look, concern etched into her face and Garcia was up before anyone could tell her it might not have been a good idea.

The gang watched from afar as your expression brightened from worried to delighted as Garcia began to chat with you, eyes gleaming as you pointed down to your heels. Clearly she’d repeated the earlier compliment.

“Hi! I’m Penelope Garcia, technical analyst, and you are gorgeous. I’m in love with your shoes!” The introduction and compliment took you by surprise but you were by no means disappointed, replying with equal giddiness.

“Thank you so much, my Dad bought them for me!” You extended your right leg slightly to show off the heel more holistically, “And I just love your outfit, the glasses are everything.”

Garcia gushed her own appreciation as the two of you became fast friends, so you chanced a request for help.

“I’m looking for SSA Aaron Hotchner’s office? I know it’s one of the big fancy ones but I’m not sure exactly which.”

“Up those stairs and second door! You can’t miss it, the big boss energy radiates as soon as you go near.” You both laughed and you made sure to thank Garcia profusely.

Reid watched as you pointed up to the private offices, evidently searching for a specific office. He wondered who you could be looking for. He didn’t have to wonder for long as Garcia rushed back, talking a million miles an hour as she explained that you were looking for Hotch. That brought more questions than answers, and the BAU were quick to place bets on what you could possibly want from him.

“Well, she’s certainly too young to be his girlfriend,” Morgan laughed, “Unless Hotch gets down more than we thought.”

“Could be a young woman looking for a mentor? She looks about college age, maybe just graduated?” Kate suggested and JJ nodded in agreement, neither even pretending to be working anymore.

Meanwhile, you’d made your way up to Hotch’s office, knocking softly on the oak door.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, eyebrows raising only slightly, an extreme show of emotion for the man.

“Check your watch, Agent Hotchner,” You smiled, unsurprised that he’d gotten totally consumed by his work.

“Damn,” He huffed under his breath, “I’m sorry, should we go now, then? And what did I tell you about calling me that?”

“Sorry, Dad,” You emphasised the title, “And yeah, let’s head. I’m starving.”

Down in the bullpen, even Rossi had been roped into the shenanigans.

“You’re the closest with Hotch, if anyone would know who she is it’s you!” JJ said, the rest of the group agreeing.

“Why don’t you just, I don’t know, ask him?” Rossi shook his head like he was dealing with small children. Sometimes he was convinced he was.

You took Hotch’s offered arm and the two of you left his office, making quiet smalltalk. The office fell eerily quiet as you two emerged from the behind the closed door, and you got the distinct impression that the BAU had all been talking about you.

Obviously Hotch noticed the team very unsuccessfully playing it cool and muttered a curse, signalling to you to head over to them. You supposed you were going to finally get your formal introductions.

“This is Rossi, Derek Morgan, JJ, Kate Cunningham, Penelope Garcia, and Doctor Spencer Reid. Guys, this is my daughter.”

If you thought there was silence before, it was nothing compared to when Hotch dropped that bomb. You could hear a pin drop.

“Um, it’s really nice to meet you all! I’ve heard so many stories about your work.”

“And we’ve never heard anything about you, pretty girl.”

“Morgan,” Hotch warned with hardly any bite as you laughed off Morgan’s playful flirting.

“Derek Morgan you are exactly like I was told. You too, Penelope, my father was not exaggerating about your outfits.”

“I thought you were starving?” Hotch changed the subject to tease you, nudging you to get moving.

“Alright, alright, I get it. You don’t want me taking all your friends,” You grinned, getting moving nonetheless. The BAU laughed, both charmed and confused by you. It wasn’t unbelievable you were Hotch’s daughter — your quiet confidence and posture was the same, but your friendliness and more easily understandable humour set you two apart.

“Bye everyone!” You called over your shoulder as Hotch rushed you out the doors, clearly keen for you to stop making friends with his coworkers.

“She seems nice,” JJ commented, sitting back down in her swivel chair.

“Can we all talk about how Pretty Boy didn’t say a word that whole conversation?” Morgan asked, a hand clamping deviously on Reid’s shoulder.

“Spencer!” Kate laughed, “You don’t have a crush, do you?”

Reid could feel his cheeks heating up of their own accord, his usually genius brain useless to counteract it.

“No!” He blurted out, “I just didn’t want to say something wrong or bore her with facts like I do with you guys.”

“So you do want to impress her?” Garcia teased with a toothy grin as Reid rushed to shake his head no.

“She’s our boss’ daughter, guys. I think all of us should want to impress her, right?”

“I dunno, Reid, I don’t see Morgan or JJ blushing right now,” Rossi chimed in with a laugh before heading back to his office.

You stepped into the elevator with Hotch, chatting happily about your day so far. Your father stuck his hand out to hold the door open with such speed it scared you a little, jumping in your own body. You relaxed when you saw it was just Penelope Garcia, hurrying towards you with a few files in her hands.

“Thank you, sir,” She breathed as the doors closed behind her, “I forgot Rossi wanted these scanned and digitised from the last case!” She punched the button for the third floor. “It was really nice to meet you, by the way. Even if Hotch has kept you a secret all these years.”

“To be totally fair to him, I wouldn’t say he exactly kept me a secret if he only found out I existed a few years ago. It was nice to finally meet you all too, though. I’ve heard so many work stories.”

You bid Garcia goodbye as the doors opened once again. Just as she was almost down the hall she heard your voice whisper, “Why didn’t you tell me doctor Reid was hot and smart?”

Penelope hardly concealed her gasp, delighted at the newfound revelation. This would be fun for her.

[mintytealeaves]

hi! I dunno if I can help well but I have three QPPs whom I love very much! Here’s the thing.

with my wife, i learned about QPRs and asked if she was willing to try it out. I was a little nervous but I knew that she loved me no matter what so I didn’t have to worry too much!

with my husband, it was already established. It started out as a joke, calling each other these nicknames that were characters from our favorite anime. Then eventually we just decided to make it official, and again all I did was politely ask her!

with my rat boyfriend/aff it was a little different. We were walking to lunch at camp and he told me I was his favorite :) it made me feel very happy so I asked if he wanted to be a QPP with me.

basically, just be calm and confident and polite! If they really love you, they won’t laugh or be rude, you don’t have to worry! A QPP is a beautiful wonderful thing!

hey pspsps anyone have any tips on asking a friend to be your qpp... without being awkward... i dont know how i am a silly .......

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Summary: Your brothers take you and Javi out to a local bar when you're home to visit. When you run into one of your old childhood friends, Javi can't help but feel jealous

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no use of y/n, established relationship)

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v (whoops), creampie, breeding kink (only in the sense that there's no way in hell Javi's pulling out I know, who is she?), semi-public sex (gettin nasty in a grimy bar bathroom), two ass slaps, drinking/alcohol consumption, Jealous Javi, lowkey Javi is a dick (again, who is she writing nothing but fluff?!)

A/N: Shoutout to @yxtkiwiyxt for more horny Javi ideas rotting my brain at all hours of the day!!! 🤠 I can't believe that there has never been a jealousy one shot for these two in the great wide world of the NTL universe, but you bet your ass that Javier Peña is a possessive man to his core and tolerates zero bullshit from any man who dares to even look at you too long 😌 poorly beta'd bc I'm horny and impatient

Can be read as a part of the It's Never Too Late series!

"Another one?"

"Are you trying to make sure I have miserable hangover tomorrow?"

"Me? Never. Just tryin' to make sure you have fun." Your brother David teased, voice oozing with sarcasm as he popped off his barstool, giving you a playful nudge for your accusation.

While you and Javi had made a few trips back to your hometown of Chicago to visit your family since your move to Laredo, most of it had either been spent at your childhood home with your entire family, or at other family events, like your cousin's wedding a few months ago.

And of course, while your brothers, Charlie and David, were a part of your family, there was a substantial difference between spending time with your whole family together, and spending time with just your brothers.

So when they had convinced you and Javi to come out with them to Rossi's, your favorite dive bar in the city, under the guise of a few drinks and time to catch up, you shouldn't have been shocked to find yourself 4 beers and two shots of whisky deep, and preparing for a much longer night ahead of you than originally anticipated.

"'Nother one for you, big guy?" Charlie asked Javi, following behind David to make their way through the hot and sweaty mess of bodies crowding behind the bar for another drink.

"And before you answer, no isn't an option." David added, sneaking up behind Javi and shaking his shoulders.

"God, you are so annoying." You sighed, rolling your eyes at your brother, jabbing your elbow into his side to keep him from wrestling Javi out of his seat, "Just do two more beers. And I swear, if you come back with another shot, I'm pouring it over your head."

The four of you laughed before your brothers disappeared into the sea of bar patrons, leaving you and Javi giggling at your table.

"Fuck, I haven't drank this much since- God, I don't even remember." Javi sighed, running his hand through his hair and down the back of his head, rubbing the dark curls at the nape of his neck.

"Me either." You replied, followed by a long, low burp and more laughter, "I think the last time I was this drunk, I was here with David and Charlie and all their friends watching the Blackhawks lose in the playoffs, but all I remember is Charlie telling me I threw up in a bush and that he had to carry me to our taxi to get home. But don't worry, I promise not to get that drunk tonight."

"Sounds good, party animal." Javi smirked, placing his hand on your thigh under the table, rubbing it back and forth along the denim of your jeans, snickering at your drunken giggles.

The two of you both reached for your drinks, finishing off the last of what was left in your beer bottles, startled when you swore you had heard your name from a voice you knew wasn't Javi's, Charlie's or David's.

"Cubby? Holy shit, is that you?!"

Setting down your drink, you swerved your head over your shoulder, jaw dropping in complete surprise to see Frankie, one of your brother's best friends you had known for as long as you could remember.

"Frankie?! Oh my god, what the fuck?! Hi!" You squealed, shooting up out of your seat to give him a hug, the alcohol already in your system perhaps making you a little more enthusiastic about your greeting you would have been otherwise.

"What the hell are you doing here?! I thought the goons said you moved to Texas after everything that happened!" Frankie asked excitedly, parting from your hug to take a step back and look at you, shocked by your presence.

"I did, but I'm here visiting for the week! Charlie and David are at the bar right now getting drinks, but they'll be back in a second! Frankie, oh my god, I'm so happy to see you!" You grinned, giving him a playful shove.

"Me too. I feel like I haven't seen you in forever! You- You look great-" He paused, trying his best to play off his comment, quickly shifting topics, "Things uh, everything's been going good for you?"

"Yeah, things have been great! How about you? Wait, we have a table right here, do you wanna sit down and catch up? Unless you're busy, I don't wanna keep you!" You offered, gesturing towards the table behind you where Javi was sitting.

"Yeah, yeah, that would be fuckin' great! I'm meetin' a few buddies here later, but I have plenty of time to catch up if you guys have some room to squeeze me in!"

While you knew there would be plenty of room for one more person at your table, even after your brothers returned, what you didn't know is that since the moment Frankie had shown up, everything about Javi's once happy and carefree demeanor had completely changed.

And not for the better.

As soon as you turned around to face Javi, you could immediately sense the shift in tension, watching his brow furrow and hand wrap tighter around the neck of the near empty beer bottle he was nursing, practically burning a hole through Frankie with the way he was staring him down.

It seemed like Frankie could immediately sense it too, looking over at you before looking back at Javi, as if to silently ask who the hell was sitting with you and your brothers, looking like he was ready to commit murder, at the very least.

"Who's uh...." Frankie paused, awkwardly laughing as he nodded at Javi, trying his best to not seem off-put by Javi's clearly uncomfortable expression.

"I'm so sorry, Frank, this is my-"

"Fiancé. Javi." Javi stated, cutting off the rest of your introduction as he stood up out of his seat, sizing up Frankie as he offered a forceful handshake.

"Fiancé? Lucky guy." Frankie replied, forcing a friendly smile as he shook Javi's hand, "Congrats, I had no idea you were engaged." He shrugged, looking back at you with a more genuine expression before awkwardly shuffling around the table to find a seat across from you and Javi.

"Thanks, we got engaged in November and the wedding's in July!" You chimed in, hoping to try and ease Javi's obvious, unwarranted hostility towards Frankie.

"Oh nice!" Frankie nodded, smiling at both you and Javi, the crinkle in his cheeks dropping at Javi's still unamused facade, "Where you guys gettin' married? Here or Texas?"

"Texas." Javi answered, short and snappy with his response.

"Frank the Tank? No fuckin' way man! What's up?!"

The three of you all seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief at David's voice, turning your head to see him and Charlie making their way back, beers in hand.

"What's up, you goons? Long time, no see!" Frankie grinned, standing up to greet your brothers with happy pats on the back.

As the three of them said their 'hello's' you stayed put next to Javi, whapping his shoulder with the back of your hand, forcing him to face the frustrated frown plastered across your expression.

"What the fuck was that for?" You whispered to him, not wanting to draw any attention from your brothers and Frankie as they caught up.

"What?" Javi asked, shrugging nonchalantly before taking another sip of his beer, setting down the empty bottle with a forceful thud.

"W-what- What the fuck do you mean, 'what'?" You frowned, quickly realizing that Javi was trying to play dumb about the clearly uncomfortable interaction he and Frankie had just been through.

Javi silently shrugged again, jaw ticking from side to side as he looked back and forth between you and Frankie before speaking again.

"Just have never heard of Frankie before today. Didn't know you'd be so excited to see someone I didn't even know existed until five minutes ago."

"I've known Frankie since I was like, six years old. He's been one of my brother's best friends for like, ever. So yes, I was excited to see him. Would you like me to disclose every other person I've ever met and not mentioned to you, too?" You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, feeling your scowl sink deeper into the wrinkles of your forehead.

Both groups of conversations seemed to lull at the same time, Frankie, David and Charlie all turning back towards your table to see the sour looks on both yours and Javi's faces.

"You good?" Charlie asked, handing a beer to you and then one to Javi.

"Listen, it was super nice to see all of you guys, but I don't wanna overstay my welcome or anything. I can just wait at the bar for my buddies if the four of you wanna hang out." Frankie suggested, clearly realizing he must have been the shift for the change of tone at the table.

"What, you're gonna catch up with these two idiots and leave me hanging? Seriously, please stay, we haven't hung out all together in forever!"

While Javi was able to make it subtle enough to everyone else, you could clearly tell that your invitation was the exact opposite of what he was hoping to hear.

"Only if you're-"

"Yes, I'm sure, Frankfurter, get a drink and sit your ass down!" You insisted, shooing Frankie towards the bar along with your brothers, the three of you howling over Frankie's long forgotten childhood nickname.

If he hadn't made it blatantly clear before, your avid encouragement for Frankie to join your group certainly had.

Right now, Javier Peña was one thing, and one thing only.

Jealous.

"I still can't believe you won't admit that I beat you!"

"Because you didn't!"

"I did, and you know it, David! C'mon you guys, back me up here!"

It hadn't taken much for the five of you to down a few more drinks- For four of you, you let the alcohol flowing through your veins loosen you up even more, laughing and reminiscing about your favorite shared childhood memories, teasing and taunting each other over the silly trials and tribulations of your youth.

For the other, the few beers and glasses of whisky swirling around in his stomach were nothing but a way to keep from saying (or doing) something out of spite that he'd regret.

"I'm gonna be honest with you here, Dave, I'm not gonna say that your sister's right, buuuut...." Frankie smirked, holding up his beer bottle to you, giving you a silent cheers of approval.

"See?! Told you! Thank you, Frankie, at least someone knows what they're talking about." You teased, giving David a jab in his stomach as he rolled his eyes at you.

"Dare I say, Cubby is more of a badass than either of you two clowns, but I don't know if you can handle that conversation yet." Frankie smiled, reaching across the table for a fist bump, "She's a pretty kick ass hockey player, ya know."

Javi had been so focused on picking at the waterlogged label of his beer bottle, he hadn't even noticed that Frankie was trying to talk to him, only looking in his direction after a nudge from your brother.

"Hmm?" Javi hummed, barely bothering to look in Frankie's direction to acknowledge his comment.

"I said your fiancé is a badass. Didn't know if you knew how good she was at hockey, that's all." Frankie shrugged, before taking another sip of his beer.

"Yeah, why the fuck would I not know that? She's my fiancé." Javi huffed, jaw clenching.

"Javi, seriously?" You whispered, shooting him a stern look as you had to quite literally bite your tongue to keep from causing a scene at the way he was behaving.

"Sorry, man, I- I was just givin' her a compliment." Frankie grimaced, shooting you an apologetic look from across the table.

"Yeah, I think you've made it pretty fucking clear how much you like complimenting her." Javi grumbled, just loud enough for you to hear and to having you fuming at your fiancé's enraging behavior.

You took one long, low deep breath, trying to compose yourself as the rest of the table sat in uncomfortable silence, wishing they had a chainsaw to cut through the palpable tension shrouding the air.

"Can I talk to you for a second, please?"

Javi knew just as well as you that even though you had phrased it as a question, he certainly had no choice in the matter, begrudgingly trailing behind you as you silently excused the both of you from the table.

In a stark silence, Javi followed behind you through the sea of drunken strangers that filled the bar until you reached a semi quiet hallway near the back of the building by the bathrooms.

You let out a frustrated sigh as your back bounced against the wall, using it to prop yourself as you stared at Javi, arms folded over his chest and eyes wandering in anywhere but your direction.

"What the fuck is going on, Javi? And don't bullshit me and say that you don't know what I'm talking about because you clearly do." You demanded, nostrils flaring and fists clenched.

"Like I really need to fucking say it." Javi huffed, shaking his head with a sarcastic laugh.

"You don't, because you've made it very clear, but yeah, I'd like to hear you say it."

You could feel the heat seething through your veins as Javi chewed at the inside of his lip, trying to bide whatever time he could to keep from bruising his pride.

"Wow, I really cannot believe this. You're seriously that threatened by Frankie?" You scoffed, stunned that Javi couldn't bring himself to admit it.

"I'm not fuckin' threatened by him." He spit back, eyes peeled to the ground. "He's just way too fucking comfortable with you."

"Oh, you cannot be serious. Because I've known him forever and he's a nice guy? Jesus Christ, Javi."

"I've been watching the way he's been fucking looking at you since the moment he said hello to you. How he's talking to you, acting with you, it's like- Jesus, it's like he trying to-"

"What? Like he's trying to flirt with me? Like he likes me?" You questioned, raising your voice enough to finally get Javi to look at you, letting him feel the frustration you were engulfed in.

"Yes! Jesus fucking Christ, yes!" Javi groaned back, growing more heated by the second.

"And what if he was, Javi? What if he was trying to flirt with me? Do you really in your right mind think that I would ever, EVER pick him above you?" You asked, throwing up your hands in defeat, voice trembling as you fought back tears, "So what if he was? I'm yours, Javi, and I've got the fucking ring on my finger to prove it."

You and Javi stood in silence for a moment, watching each other's chests rise and fall on beat. You swear you can see it in his eyes, the way everything about Javi seems to shift, realizing how badly he'd fucked tonight up.

Before you can get in another word, you can see Javi's eyes lock on the single stall bathroom door that's swung open at the end of the hallway, looking once at you and once again at the bathroom. You weren't even able to protest before he had grabbed you by the hand, checking once over his shoulder before ushering you inside and locking the door behind him.

As the lock clicked, you could feel the heat in your cheeks burning, and not just with anger like they were a few moments ago. The dim light of the bathroom flickered over the shadowy figure of Javi's broad body until he had your back flushed against the sink, pinning you between the porcelain and him.

"Javi, what are you-"

Suddenly, Javi had one hand cradling the back of your head, the other wrapped around your hip as he craned his neck down to let his lips collide with yours.

The angry part of you wanted to push him off you, to berate him with your frustrations until he apologized for how childishly he had behaved tonight.

Every other part of you that was so turned on by the fact Javi was so worked up, he had no other choice than to fuck you in the bathroom to prove that you were his, couldn't have cared less about it.

"You're all fucking mine, you know that?" Javi growled, his words warm against your skin, muffled between messy kisses.

"I'm all yours, Javi." You moaned, fighting to let each word escape from your lips as your mouths became frantic, colliding with tongues and teeth.

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as Javi's hands slid down your sides, fingers fumbling with the button and zipper on your jeans until he the denim and your underwear pooled around your ankles.

After your jeans had dropped to the ground, his hands were back on your sides, fingertips digging into your skin as he flipped you around, your stomach pressed against the countertop, ass flushed against his hips where you could feel the strain of his cock beneath his pants.

"No one else gets to have you like this. Gets to make you feel like I do." Javi groaned, your core aching at the clanking of his belt coming undone behind you, watching his brow furrow in concentration in the reflection from the mirror in front of you, "Do they, baby?"

"N-No." You whimpered, feeling him run his tip through your folds, collecting the slick that had already begun pooling between your thighs.

"You gonna let me fuck you right here in this bathroom, hermosa? Let everyone here know that you're mine?" Javi mewled, whispering into your ear as he buried his head in the crook of your neck.

"Mhmmmhh." You nodded, whining as Javi teased you with the head of his cock, prodding at your entrance, "Please."

Javi chuckled softly to himself, hearing you gasp as he filled you with every inch of him, hips pressed firmly against your ass. You could practically feel your eyes roll to the back of your head with how full he felt inside you, despite how easily you had taken him from how wet and worked up you were.

"Love this pussy so much, baby. Always so fucking wet and tight for me."

Your eyes opened as Javi began to thrust into you, startled by the already deliberate pace he was setting with each snap of his hips. Staring back at the mirror, you could see the smug smirk spreading between Javi's cheeks, knowing how quickly he could make you crumble.

Your hands shot back behind you, wrapping around Javi's stomach, trying to grab fist fulls of his shirt to brace yourself as he fucked into you. With the grip Javi had around your hips, you shouldn't have been worried about going anywhere, only about the marks that he'd leave in the pump flesh of your skin after he was finished.

"Oh fuck, Javi! Fuck, oh my godddd-" You moaned, all consumed by the feeling of his length sliding in and out of your cunt, perfectly pounding at your g-spot with every thrust.

You tried to let your head dip back, but before you could tilt it any further, one of Javi's hands had shifted, snaking up your front and wrapping around your jaw, forcing your gaze back in the mirror to meet his.

"Nuh uh, mi amor," he paused, gritting his teeth as he swore under his breath, trying to compose himself, "need to see you, Osita. Wanna see that pretty face when I make you cum and fuck you so fucking full of me, you're gonna feel me dripping out of you all night."

His words had seemed to spark something feral in the both of you, moaning his name as you backed your ass up further into him, taking everything that he had to give.

With your eyes locked in filthy glass reflection, Javi's hand slid back down your sides, smacking your ass before reaching around to your front, slotting himself between your thighs to find your clit, puffy and aching to be touched.

"Fuck, Javi! Feels so fucking good." You whined, the newfound pressure of his fingers against your clit causing the tingle building at the base of your spine to grow rapidly.

"Yeah? And who's the only one that gets to make you feel this good, baby?" Javi grunted, hips slapping against your ass, each thrust feeling harder and deeper than the last.

With the way Javi was fucking you, you felt lucky that your brain could manage to string together a coherent thought, let a lone a comprehendible sentence, your words heavy and breathless as you fought against the overwhelming sensation of your orgasm starting to creep through your body.

"You! It's- fuck- it's you Javi! Only you!" You sobbed, praying that the music and chatter of the bar was loud enough to drown out your volume.

"That's my girl." Javi devilishly grinned, feeling the way your cunt was clamping down around his cock, sensing how close you were to finishing, "Gotta cum first for me, hermosa. Fuckin' soak me before I cum so deep inside of you."

Javi began to circle your clit faster, putting just enough pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves to push you over the edge, your vision going white as your orgasm began to crash through you.

"Fuck, Javi! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck-ahhhhh!"

You could feel how instantly limp your body had gone, so drunk on pleasure, that if Javi hadn't been behind you, holding you up, you were convinced you would have collapsed over the edge of the sink you were fucking on.

You knew Javi wasn't far behind you, his thrusts becoming sloppy and frantic as he chased his own high, desperate to make good on his promise to fill you with every last drop he had to give.

"That's it, baby. Fuck, I'm- mierda- I'm close. Gonna give you everything. Let everyone know who this pussy belongs to. Feels so fucking- fuck- so fucking good. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

With one last pump of his cock, Javi was spilling inside you, painting your walls with his spend, burying himself inside your cunt until he you had taken everything he had to give.

The warmth and wetness of your mixed arousal pooled where your bodies met, making a mess between your thighs as Javi began to pull out.

The both of you watched as your bodies rose and fell in the mirror, trying desperately to catch your breath in your post orgasmic haze. It wasn't long until your unhinged jaws were replaced with devious smirks, Javi grabbing you by the waist to flip him back towards him, pulling you to his chest as he kissed you.

"Damn, maybe I should make you jealous more often." You teased, biting down on your lip as you gave Javi a loving poke on his chest before reaching down to pull your pants back up your legs.

"Whatever." Javi sighed, playfully rolling his eyes at you as he did the same, looping his belt back through his jeans. He let out another deep breath, arms crossed over his chest as he looked up at you with a sheepish shrug, "I'm- fuck. I'm sorry about tonight. I was a dick."

"It's okay." You smiled, pressing up on your tiptoes to drape your arms around his neck, planting a soft kiss on his lips, "I love you. And only you. I don't think you could get rid of me, even if you tried. And I think that me letting you fuck me in this dirty ass bar bathroom proves that."

The two of you laughed, turning back to the mirror to readjust the sweaty mats of tangled hair and crinkled clothes in hopes of avoiding any suspicions when you made your way back to the table.

"I know. Still shouldn't have been an asshole about it." He shrugged, stepping behind you so that his chest was pressed against your back and arms were draped across your front, his mustache tickling your neck as he leaned in to whisper in your ear, "This was fucking hot, though."

"It was. Feel sorry for the next person who has to use this bathroom." You grimaced, hoping that you hadn't managed to leave a trace of the ways you had further disrespected the dingy restroom.

"You wanna head out first, or should I?" Javi asked, rocking you back and forth in his grasp, swaying you just enough to make you burst out into giggles.

"It's so late and I'm sure everyone here is hammered, we probably just could sneak out at the same time and no one would notice." You suggested, still drunk enough to not care enough about a proper escape plan.

After one last kiss and smack of your ass, Javi quickly cracked open the door, doing one swift scan before giving you the nod to note the coast was clear.

Javi grabbed you by the hand, looking back at you with a stupid smirk as the two of you left the bathroom, unsuspecting and assuming that you'd be able to make it down the hallway without any run ins.

Unfortunately, Javi hadn't noticed the body across the bar, making a B-line to the bathroom through the drunken crowd towards the bathrooms after his half-assed check.

Before any of you could process it, Javi collided with the other person, both people grunting and stumbling backwards, mumbling apologies as they collected themselves, until they locked eyes.

"Oh, uh- Sorry. Didn't uh- Didn't see you guys coming." Frankie stammered, looking back and forth between you and Javi and the bathroom you had just emerged from, quickly piecing the puzzle before him together.

"All good. See you, uh- see you back at the table." Javi winced, trying his best to keep from laughing as both your cheeks began to turn a bright shade of pink as you slid past Frankie.

"Looks like you may not end up being the only jealous one tonight, Jav."

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[randomshyperson]

Hello fav writer 🤭 saw the game so here my request!!

Wanda + touch + number 2 ! Pretty please ♡♡

Hope you're okay if not I send you a lot of love :)

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Drabbles

prompt: calloused hands in soft hands | words: 1183 | warnings: brief mentions of self-harming and violence, unhealthy coping mechanisms, winter soldier reader, takes place around civil war, fluff, kinda friends to lovers (unspecified).

A/N-> I wrote most of those on my phone, so I’m sorry if there are typos.

challenge masterlist | general masterlist

-&-

Nine hundred and ninety-eight.

Nine hundred and ninety-nine.

One thousand.

Start again.

One.

Two.

A drop of blood felt at your feet. The pain makes you flinch but you push again.

Three.

The bag makes a noise.

Four.

There's another crack and then the sand is mixing up with your blood.

You stop, panting. The destroyed bag is pushed off the holder so you can carry it away with the other ruined ones. 

The gym is empty because they only have two clients. Super soldiers from the 40s who got frozen in time and struggled to trust anything, even gyms, from the new century. But unlike you, Steve Rogers is getting better at training in public. He even goes running with some of the other veterans, you heard he even made a friend there.

You're not Steve. You never were. He was the good Rogers, you, well, let's just say Hydra didn't need to say much to charm you into the quickest way to find your brother again. A couple of lies later, and you found yourself in chains, losing the memories of your brother that were the reason why you accepted their bargain in the first place. Before you could protest, years were wasted as the Winter Soldier. 

Well, that's past now. Yet, you destroyed another pushing bag while remembering your past.

There isn't much to do when you ruin them all - you are left for some push-ups before Steve calls again. He's insistent on your presence in the tower tonight, someone's birthday whatever. You're not the party type. You cannot be his Bucky.

What's left of the bags are discarded in the community trash, and you make sure to lock the place as the old Mrs.Johnson - the son, not the father, as that man died before you got unfrozen by Hydra a fourth time - asked you to. 

But just as you're about to lock the old administration room, someone comes in.

Wanda is dressed in casual attire and they always make her look so not Avenger that it never fails to bring a smile to your face. She corresponds immediately, and you're not sure what good you've done in your life to deserve such sweetness but you're not complaining.

“Hey, you.” You greet her, keys in the lock but eyes on her. She repeats your words and you notice how shy she looks with her little anxious jump and hands safe in her pockets. “I thought you would be at the party tonight.”

She shrugs, a smile playing on her lips.

“I ran away.” She tells with a complicity you two have shared from the second you first met. Maybe being Hydra volunteers does bring people together. “I know you work out here so I thought… I don't know…”

She struggles to justify her presence but that just makes you smile.

“That watching me sweat was funnier? You're a flirt, Maximoff.” You tease her, enjoying the pink of her cheeks that she tries to hide with a chuckle. 

She mutters “very funny” but you don't push your teasing further as you lock the door and tug the keys away. Grabbing your old army jacket from the coat stand by the entrance, you hold the door open for Wanda to go out again.

“Let's grab something to eat. And you're paying Avenger.”

She laughs, retorting that technically you're an Avenger too and you're sure not contradicting a pretty girl today.

The place you two go for is a local diner. It is not full but it's not empty, at least not enough to go unnoticed. Especially with a Winter Soldier physic or the face of everybody's favorite little witch. So when you and Wanda manage to get to one of the last tables without anyone bothering for an autograph, you're sure she used her powers for that.

“You're getting better at this.” You tell her proudly which surprises her. While the Avengers often tell her to control her Hydra impulses such as manipulation of will, you don't seem to mind about the moral issues of it. You're just glad she's getting more confident in her own abilities, instead of blatantly embarrassing her for something opportunely useful like her team does. She smiles shyly in appreciation and you busy yourself with the menu.

But the second your bruised fingers are noticed, Wanda's mood changes. 

The waitress who is coming to the table suddenly has the will to turn back to the kitchen.

You watch as she moves the menu away from you to reach for your hands.

The softest fingers of the earth trace the lines of your calloused, over-abused hands. Every scar is touched before she looks up.

“Why would you hurt yourself like that?” 

You sign, not pulling away from her touch but struggling to stare into her eyes.

“Not all of it was me.” You try to joke, but the weak chuckle that escapes you turns into a nervous laugh as she doesn't smile. “ I did fight for one hundred years, you know?”

She shakes her head, the eyes scanning your face then looks down where your fingers are dancing together. 

“Steve said you were frozen for most of it.” She recalls with a strange hurt in her voice that makes you swallow hard. “And you're also a shooter. That wasn't that much of fighting back in the day.”

You smirk, one of your hands enveloping hers. Touch to touch warms your skin so tenderly that you barely feel the autumn cold coming from the windows.

“If I didn't know you, I would say you care about me.”

Wanda frowns and looks up, a serious look on her face.

“You do know me.” she says. “And you know I care.”

You're not surprised but you're speechless. You don't know how to do this. Whatever is between you and this charming woman.

So you just try your best to do what Steve always says you should: be honest.

Wanda watches as you sigh, hands still on the table, playing with hers.

It takes a moment, but finally, you add:

“The pain anchors me.” You start, risking taking a glance at her worried frown. “It just makes me feel I'm here instead of frozen again. It helps.”

It's her turn to sigh. When her hands move away you're worried you shared too much. You swallow, ready to push down your emotions when Wanda shifts in the bend to slide closer to you.

You tense, like a frightened animal but she doesn't make any sudden moves. Her actions are slow, the lift of her hand to your cheek, the tender smile before she leans in. 

For a whole moment, the world does freeze. But unlike any of the other times, you feel warmer than ever.

She pulls away just enough for you to look at her eyes again, nose to nose.

“Would this anchor you enough?”

You smile at her, your hands finding hers again on her lap. One of them, you lift to your mouth level just to kiss her soft skin.

“I wouldn't be able to be anywhere else, witchy.” 

[winwintea]

HOLY FUCK.

i don’t even know where to begin. 1,000 notes. 1,000 notes???? i’m sitting here staring at that number on my laptop, jaw wide open, and it still doesn’t feel real. but it’s real. you all did this for me. and i am so, so overwhelmed with gratitude. it may not be a huge number for some, but for me this is such a big deal.

when i first started writing this fanfic, it was just a little idea that popped into my head. i had rewatched past lives, and my brain was practically begging me to write something. i never, ever imagined it would resonate with so many people. to be honest, i never thought i’d even reach 500 notes, let alone 1,000. this is beyond anything i could have ever dreamed of.

my most popular fic prior to inyun was secure that card. i still look all those notes and smile. although i had to give her up, i was also just happy so many people were interested in reading stc. so here's a special thanks to those who stayed post-stc takedown. i owe all of you so much for helping me stay motivated to write and produce more stories.

i’ve always been a reader first. i’ve spent countless hours immersed in other people’s stories, marveling at their creativity, their ability to make me feel so deeply through their words. honestly i don't even care right now i'm just going to mention them straight out. @lqfiles @hazyhae and @polarisjisung, thank you so so so much for being the inspiration for me in starting this blog. your works touched the hearts of many, including my own.

i never thought i could be someone who could do that for others. writing was always this distant, intimidating thing that “real writers” did. but one day, on a whim, thanks to the encouragement of @aquaphoenixz and @lyvhie, i decided to try. i thought, why not? and now, here we are. it’s surreal.

the fact that so many people have taken the time to read, like, reblog, and comment on my work… it’s humbling. it’s incredible. every notification, every kind word, every little interaction (i do in fact stalk my followers from time to time <33 love u all) it means the world to me. to know that something i created in my spare time, just for the joy of it, has brought even a fraction of happiness or excitement to someone else… that’s the most amazing feeling in the world. writing can be such a solitary thing, but seeing your responses makes me feel like i'm part of a community, like i’m sharing something special with all of you. <33

i want to thank each and every one of you who took the time to engage with my story. whether you left a comment, reblogged with tags that made me laugh, or just silently hit the like button? thank you. thank you for giving my little fic a chance. thank you for making me feel like my words matter. thank you for reminding me why i fell in love with storytelling in the first place.

this milestone isn’t just about the numbers. it’s about the connections (i've met so many wonderful people), the shared love for kpop, and the joy of creating something people enjoy. i’m so grateful to be a part of this fandom, to have found such a supportive and enthusiastic audience. you’ve all made me feel so seen and appreciated, and i can’t thank you enough for that.

i don’t know what the future holds for my writing, but i do know this:

i’ll keep writing because i love it, and because of all of you. thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for making this such an unforgettable experience. here’s to 1,000 notes, and to all the stories yet to come. 💕💕

inyun

PAIRING ↬ next door neighbor!mark lee x fem!reader

TAGS ↬ fluff, romance, slight angst, potential soulmates, past lives au, friends to (?), shared dreams, the idea of inyun/inyeon or “fate”

SUMMARY ↬ when you move into a small apartment complex in seoul, your next-door neighbor, mark lee, seems like nothing more than an ordinary guy. but as the two of you get to know each other more, it suddenly feels like you’ve known him forever. then mark mentions his grandmother's belief in 인연. the idea that every encounter is woven by threads of fate. are these coincidences between you and mark really accidental or is there something deeper going on?

WORD COUNT ↬ 3.7k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ somebody (me) decided to rewatch past lives 🙈 this was supposed to be fluff and a gift for @https-lvesick but finals week started sinking in… thank you to my saviors @viasdreams and @polarisjisung for beta reading, love y'all <33

PLAYLIST ↬ jazz bar - dreamcatcher; mago - gfriend; you - nct dream; dejavu - nu’est w; wham bam shang-a-lang - silver

THERE IS A WORD IN KOREAN:

"인연"

it means providence or fate. 

but it's specifically about the relationships between people. 

it's an "인연" if two strangers even walk by each other in the street and their clothes accidentally brush. because it means there must have been something between them in their past lives.

Your apartment door was wide open, boxes half-unpacked and filling the hallway. You’d tried to keep things organized, but between the moving of your furniture and the delivery guy calling for directions, you slowly lost your organization.

You were crouched on the floor, handling a box of kitchenware, when you heard a muffled voice behind you.

“Uh, hi? Excuse me?”

Startled, you turned to see a guy standing at the end of the hallway, a paper bag balanced in one hand and a set of keys dangling from the other. He was dressed in a simple hoodie and sweatpants, glasses fixed upon his face, and his hair slightly tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“Are… are you my new neighbor?” he asked in Korean, motioning toward the boxes that completely blocked his door.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” your voice squeaked as you responded in some broken korean, not mentally prepared to face a neighbor on the first day of moving him. You scrambled to move a tower of books out of his way. “I didn’t realize—let me just—”

“It’s fine, really,” he interrupted in English this time with a small laugh. “I’m Mark, by the way. Do you speak English?”

“Oh!” You paused mid-shove, shocked at his perfect accent. “Yes. Yes I do.” You were suddenly aware of how disheveled you looked. “Y/N,” you replied, brushing stray hair from your face. “Nice to meet you, and again, sorry for the mess. Your English is really good.”

“No worries. Happens to the best of us,” Mark said, crouching to help move the heavier boxes. “I’m from Canada, so English is kind of my thing.”

“Aah. I see.” You nodded, still mortified.

“This is your first day here?”

“Yeah. My friends were supposed to help, but they bailed at the last minute. So here I am, single-handedly creating a big explosive mess.”

Mark chuckled, lifting a box with ease. “I’d say you’re doing a pretty solid job for one person. Though... maybe try not to block your neighbors' doors next time.”

“Noted,” you said with an embarrassed laugh, standing to hold the door open as he slid the box inside.

When the hallway was clear, you expected him to leave, but he stayed, looking at the stacks of boxes still waiting to be unpacked. “Need an extra pair of hands?”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to—”

“I insist,” Mark said with a grin. “I’m a pro at this. Moved like five times in the last three years.”

Before you could protest further, Mark rolled up his sleeves and got to work. He moved like he really had done this a hundred times, lifting heavy items with ease and made the process less awkward with his small jokes.

“This box says ‘Bathroom,’ but it’s definitely full of shoes,” he teased, pulling out a pair of sneakers.

“Okay, maybe I got a little lazy with the labels,” you admitted.

“Lazy? Nah, this is strategic. Keeps life exciting,” he quipped, tossing the sneakers back in.

You laughed, the tension from earlier fading away. Somehow, he’d turned what felt like a stressful task into something almost fun.

Once the last box was inside, Mark clapped his hands together. “Mission accomplished. And since I’m basically your hero now, I think I’ve earned a reward. Got any snacks?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, I have… instant ramen?”

Mark grinned. “Perfect. My favorite.”

After settling in for a few days, you don’t encounter Mark again. That is, until a series of random moments start pulling you back into his orbit.  

On one of those nights, just past 9 p.m., the apartment complex suddenly plunges into darkness. The familiar buzz of your refrigerator stops, and the streetlights outside shut off, leaving your apartment only dimly lit from the moon. 

Groaning, you fumble around for your phone, only to realize the battery is at 4%. Great. You grab a flashlight, slowly open your door, and step out into the hallway, hoping to find someone who knows what is going on. 

That’s when you spot him.

Mark is sitting on the floor just outside his door, a small stack of candles beside him.

“Hey,” he greets, a faint smile on his face as he waves a lighter. “Power’s out in the whole block, apparently. Wanna borrow a candle?”

You take in his setup and smirk. He’s surrounded by neatly arranged tea lights and thick pillar candles.“Uh, are you in a cult or something?”

“Eh, my grandma’s kinda superstitious. Always told me to keep candles around the house just in case,” he says, shrugging. “I thought she was overreacting, but turns out she’s kind of a genius.”

You sit down a few feet away, gratefully accepting a candle he lights for you. The flame brightens up the dark hallway, leaving warm shadows on Mark’s face.

“So,” you start, leaning against the wall, “What do you normally do during blackouts? Just... sit around and wait?”

“Basically. Or… get this,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “People actually talk to each other. Crazy, right? You could, I don’t know, tell me something about yourself. Like… how many candles do you keep at home?”

“None,” you admit holding up your flashlight. “This is all I’ve got. I guess I’m doomed in a blackout. Your grandma would be so disappointed in me.”

“She would,” he agrees with a laugh. “But I’ll let it slide. Only because you’re new here.”

The conversation flows easily after that. You both begin trading random facts: Your favorite childhood snacks, his love for playing guitar, the time you accidentally dyed your hair orange trying to bleach it yourself. He counters with a tale of a botched bleach job that left him looking like a walking science experiment for months. 

Minutes turn into an hour, the candles continuing to burn as the two of you share quiet laughter and stories. And for the first time that night, the darkness doesn’t feel so bad.

—

A few days later, you’re hauling overstuffed grocery bags up the stairs when Mark pokes his head out of his apartment. His hair is tousled, and he’s wearing an oversized hoodie that practically swallows him whole.

“Oh, hey!” he calls, his face lighting up when he spots you. “Need help?”

“I got it, thanks!” you manage to say, despite your arms straining and the bag handles digging into your fingers.  

Before you can argue, Mark is already down the hall, grabbing it from you, and effortlessly carrying it to your door. “Looks like this thing was holding on for dear life,” he teases, hoisting it easily as he follows you to your door.

“You didn’t have to—”

“I was gonna knock on your door anyway,” he interrupts with a grin. “I baked something earlier and thought you might want to try it.”

That makes you pause mid-door unlock. “You bake?”

“Why does everyone react like that?” he says with mock offense. “Yes, I bake. Don’t look so shocked.”

“You don’t look like the baking type. Or cooking.”

“Oh, I can’t cook.” He scowls as if thinking about a bad memory, “But baking is pretty easy. It’s just throwing everything into one bowl, mixing it up, and waiting. Piece of cake. Or, in this case, cookies.”

A few minutes later, you’re both sitting on your tiny kitchen floor, a plate of freshly baked cookies between you. The smell of warm chocolate and butter fills the air.

“These are amazing,” you say after taking a bite, your voice muffled by the cookie in your mouth.

Mark beams, leaning back against the counter. “Not bad, right? I got the recipe off some YouTube channel. Figured I’d test it out before offering it to my friends.”

You squint your eyes, pretending to look offended. “Wait, so I’m just the guinea pig?”

He admits, laughing. “Pretty much. But hey, honest opinion: too sweet? Not sweet enough?”

“Perfect,” you reply, reaching out for another. “But you should’ve added nuts. Makes it more sophisticated. Just make sure you aren’t allergic.”

He gasps, clutching his chest. “Sophisticated? Wow. Didn’t know I was baking for royalty.”

You chuckle, playfully tossing a crumpled napkin at him, and the conversation once again flows effortlessly from there. You laugh over Mark’s failed attempts at “fancy” macarons, and somehow turn into stories about childhood food disasters.

By the time the plate is empty and an hour has vanished. With Mark, even the simplest moments feel like they belong in a movie.

—

Then it’s yet another lazy Sunday when the doorbell rings. You open the door to find Mark holding a massive box labeled 50-pack instant ramen.

“I think this is yours,” he says, biting back a laugh.

You glance at the label and groan. “Oh my God. I ordered five. Five!”

“Well, congrats,” he says, handing you the box. “Looks like you’re set for the next year.”

You sigh, dragging the box inside. A few minutes later, there’s another knock. Mark’s returned to your door, grinning this time.

“You know,” he starts, leaning against the doorframe, “if you need help finishing all that ramen, I’m just next door. We could, like, host a ‘ramen buffet.’ Charge admission or something.”

You snort. “Sure. I’ll make you the first VIP guest. Free ramen for life.”

“That’s the best offer I’ve ever gotten,” he says, eyes sparkling. “But seriously, I’ll take a few packs off your hands if it’s too much. My midnight snack stash could use a refill.”

Later, you text him a picture of your pantry. 

YOU: Your VIP pass is ready 

MARK: I’ll bring the chopsticks! 😂

The first time the dream comes, it’s vivid enough to remember even after you wake up. In the dream you’re walking through a bustling marketplace, the air thick with the scents and noise of those around you. People push past you, but you don’t feel overwhelmed by them. Instead, there’s a strange pull, like a thread tugging at your body. You turn your head and catch a glimpse of someone—a young man with a warm smile, eyes glinting in the sunlight, and a soft laugh that echoes through the din. 

You can’t see his face clearly, but his hand brushes yours as he passes. And in that moment, it leaves a spark. A warmth that feels almost familiar.

When you wake up, the details are already fading, but the feeling of that touch, that spark, seems to linger, and you can’t seem to get it out of your head.

A few days later, you're sitting with Mark in the hallway outside your apartments, the floor scattered with takeout boxes and empty soda cans. The two of you have somehow fallen into the habit of these late-night talks, sharing parts of your day and random thoughts that cross your mind in the moment.

“Have you ever had weird dreams?” you ask, swirling the straw in your drink.

Mark leans back against the wall, his hair slightly messy from running his hand through it too many times. “Weird how?”

“Like…” You pause, trying to find the right words. “Like they’re not just dreams. More like memories. But not yours.”

Mark raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Okay, now you’ve got me curious. Spill.”

You chuckle, feeling a little silly but continuing anyway. “I’ve been dreaming about this place—a market or something. It’s super crowded, and I’m just walking around. But then…” Your voice trails off as the memory becomes clearer in your mind. “There’s this guy. I don’t know him, but when I see him, it’s like I do. And when our hands brush…”

Mark’s expression shifts, his playful smile fading into something more serious. He sits up straighter. “Wait. You said a market?”

“Yeah.”

“And… hands brushing?” he asks, his voice quieter now.

Your stomach flips. “Yeah. Why?”

He hesitates, running a hand through his hair again. “Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but… I’ve had the exact same dream.”

For a moment, the world feels like it’s spinning. You blink at him, looking for any hint that he’s maybe joking, but his face is earnest, his brows furrowed like he’s trying to solve a mystery.

“No way,” you say, laughing nervously. “You’re messing with me.”

“I’m not!” Mark protests, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I swear. There’s a market, right? And I’m just walking, but then I see someone—you, I guess? And when our hands touch, it’s like—”

“—like a spark,” you finish for him, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mark stares at you, his eyes wide. “Exactly.”

The air between you grows silent, the laughter and casual banter from earlier replaced by something more ominous.

“Do you think it means something?” you ask after a long pause, your voice trying to stabilize itself.

Mark lets out a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “My grandma used to say that some people are connected through 인연—fate, you know? Like… maybe we knew each other before. In another life.”

You study his face, the soft curve of his jaw and the way his lips press together like he’s holding back more than he’s saying out loud. “Do you believe that?”

He turns to look at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t know. But if it’s true…” He pauses, his gaze dropping to his hands, which rest in his lap. “Maybe it’s why I feel like I’ve known you forever, even though we just met.”

Your breath catches, his words affecting something deep inside you. The dreams, the strange familiarity, the unexplainable pull towards him, the way you could spend hours with each other, you’ve felt since the day you moved in. It’s all beginning to make a strange kind of sense. 

You don’t say anything, but your hand brushes his as you reach for your drink, and in that moment, the spark from your dream seems to jolt back to life.

Mark glances down, his fingers twitching as if he’s tempted to close the gap. Instead, he looks at you.“Maybe we’re just imagining things,” he says softly, but the hope in his voice betrays his words.

“Maybe,” you reply, though you’re not sure you believe it either.

For the rest of the night, neither of you mention the dreams again. But when you go to bed, the image of two hands brushing in a crowded marketplace still lingers in your mind, clearer than ever.

It’s a Friday evening, and you’re sitting on Mark’s couch, a blanket thrown over both of your laps. The faint smell of popcorn fills the air as a half-watched movie plays on the screen. Mark’s head is tilted back, his eyes weary from the long day, his fingers idly drumming to a beat on the couch cushion between you.

You glance at him, noting how cozy it seems here. It’s moments like these that feel strange… and effortless. Like you’ve done this a thousand times before.

“Hey,” you say, nudging his arm lightly. “You’re zoning out. The movie isn't that bad.”

Mark snorts, turning his head toward you. “Oh, yeah? Name one character besides the main guy.”

“Uh... The dog?”

“Exactly.” He laughs, his eyes crinkling in that way that makes your stomach flip.

But before you can laugh along, his phone buzzes on the coffee table, breaking the moment. Mark’s smile fades as he leans forward to grab it. You watch his face shift—something serious.

“Who is it?” you ask, your voice careful.

“It’s... uh, an email. From SM,” he says, mentioning the entertainment company where he’s been interning. He hesitates, scrolling through the message. “They want me to come in for a meeting. Apparently, there’s a potential opening on one of their teams in Vancouver.”

You sit up straighter. “Vancouver? Like... Canada?”

He nods, his thumb still hovering over his phone screen. “Yeah. They’ve got this big international project coming up, and I guess they think I’d be a good fit.”

You’re silent for a moment, the weight of his words setting in. “That’s... amazing, Mark. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” His tone is quiet, almost hesitant, and it doesn’t match the words. He sets his phone back down and leans back again, trying to avoid your gaze.

“So,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant even as your chest tightens, “you’re thinking of going?”

Mark runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you’ve noticed over the months. “I don’t know yet. It’s a huge opportunity, but... I’d have to leave. Like, soon.”

“Right,” you say, your voice a little too steady. “It makes sense. You’ve been working toward something like this for a long time.”

He finally looks at you, his dark eyes searching. “Yeah, but... leaving means leaving everything. Everyone.”

You know what he’s implying, but neither of you says it out loud.

—

It’s the day of Mark’s big decision. Whether to take the overseas job offer or stay in Seoul. You’ve been avoiding the topic, scared of what it might mean for you. But tonight, the two of you find yourselves on the rooftop of your apartment building. The breeze carries the faint scent of flowers that Mark planted the other day in the community garden.

You sit side by side on the edge, legs dangling over the low wall. Although dangerous, Mark always promised that he’d catch you if you fell. He also wrapped a blanket around your shoulders. He’s always thoughtful like that.

For a while, neither of you says anything, just watching the sun slowly start to descend down the bustling city. 

Finally, Mark breaks the silence. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about 인연.”

You turn to look at him. His face is painted in soft, golden light. “Yeah? What about it?”

He chuckles softly, almost nervously, running a hand through his hair. “At first, I thought it was just a cool idea. Like, ‘Oh, that’s neat. Fate and past lives and stuff.’ But… I don’t know. Every time I’m with you, it feels like there’s something bigger happening. Like I’ve known you forever, and I don’t even know why.”

Your breath catches. Hearing him say it out loud makes it feel so much more real than you imagined in your head. “I feel it too. Like… we’ve been here before. Not just on this rooftop, but in some other life, in some other time.”

Mark finally turns to you, his eyes searching yours. “But what if we’re just making this up? What if we’re using fate as an excuse to… I don’t know, hold onto something that isn’t real?”

The vulnerability in his voice shakes you. He’s scared, just like you are. Scared of the intensity of it all, scared of what it means to let go. Or to keep holding on.

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

“I don’t know if this is fate, Mark. I don’t know if some invisible thread tied us together, or if we’re just two people who got lucky enough to meet. But maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s not about why we found each other, but what we do with it now.”

Mark looks at you, his lips parting as if to speak, but he hesitates. You can tell he’s turning your words over in his mind, weighing them. “So… what do we do with it? What if I take the job? What if I leave? Does that mean we weren’t meant to be?”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything.” You reach for his hand, your fingers brushing before he laces them with yours. “You taking the job or staying doesn’t erase what we’ve shared. If this is fate, Mark, it’ll find a way to bring us back together. And if it’s not… then I’ll still be grateful for every moment we’ve had.”

“You make it sound so easy. Like letting go wouldn’t completely wreck me.” His grip tightens, and you see his throat bob as he swallows hard. 

You smile, but there’s a little sadness to your voice. “Who says letting go has to mean goodbye? Maybe it just means letting the story unfold the way it’s meant to.”

The silence that follows feels heavy but not uncomfortable. You can see the wheels turning in Mark’s mind. He’s thinking, unsure of what to say. 

Finally, he exhales a long, shaky breath. “I don’t know if I believe in fate, either. But I believe in you. And I believe in us.”

Your heart skips a beat, but he’s not done yet.

“So… if I stay, it won’t be because I’m afraid of losing whatever this is. It’ll be because I want to keep building it with you. And if I go… it’ll be because I know we’re strong enough to handle the distance.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you laugh softly, shaking your head. “You always know exactly what to say, don’t you?”

He grins, that familiar smile that’s become so dear to you.

“Not really. I’m just winging it.”

You both laugh, the warmth from your voices cutting through the bittersweetness of the moment. The future feels uncertain, but for the first time, that uncertainty doesn’t feel so scary.

As the last rays of sunlight fade, you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart. Whether it’s fate, luck, or sheer coincidence, you’re here now. And for now, that’s enough.

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania

[buck-star]

For your drabbles! "You're so excited all the time... it's kind of adorable." With Bucky and his wife? He is so in love with his bubbly wife!

Bucky’s bubbly wife

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Warnings/Tags: established relationship, Bucky being the sweetheart he is, get some tissues because he’s adorable

Authors Note: Thank you for the sweet idea. It’s a pretty short Drabble, but hope you enjoy it anyway. Divider made by me.

Events: Beginnings Bingo [Alts 1 | First Choice | @sweetspicybingo]

“This is adorable! Bucky you’re the best, the best of the best. The most amazing—“ you giggle, taking the bouquet of roses he’s holding out for you. “—Man one can only imagine, and you’re all mine.”

Bucky chuckles, shaking his head with a soft smile on his plump lips. And fuck, he adores the way you smile and giggle when you get the smallest thing he considers a normal thing. He, as you husband, is supposed to make you happy, to show you how much he loves you, in return he receives the same from you, too.

“You’re so excited all the time, doll. It’s kinda cute,” he laughs softly, watching you intensely when you pull out the small little card that’s sitting between the roses. Your eyes widen, it’s a little, handmade card, a card Bucky made himself, just for you.

“You made a card too!” You squeal, placing the roses on the table next to you before you open the small card.

While the front shows a picture of the two of you when you shared your first kiss, the inside shows a wedding photo of the two of you.

Baby doll,

today — six years back — you stepped into my life. It was the darkest time for me, but you brought the warmth and light back.

It’s been six years, that I fell in love with your smile for the first time when I ordered the same ice cream you love so much — the first time I heard you giggle and my heart skipped a beat.

It’s been six years and I keep falling in love with your smile, with your sweetness, with you giggle, with you.

Thank you for turning the darkness into the light and let me feel what true love really means.

I love you, precious.

“B-Bucky—“ you whisper, tears in your eyes. Bucky smiles softly at you, the same soft expression he’s always having written all over his face when he’s around you. The same softness, he shows you ever single day, the one he will show you for eternity.

“It’s true. I thought, I know… we haven’t really celebrated that day but when I walked past that ice cream shop a few days back—“ Bucky interrupts himself, wrapping both of his arms around you. “I wanted to make sure that we cherish the day we met just as much as our wedding anniversary. Because without you, I don’t know where I would be now. But one thing I know, I wouldn’t be here, in our house, with my wife in my arms.”

“I love you, I love you,” you whisper, pulling Bucky down by his neck. Your lips only inches away from his that you can feel his warm breath. “I love you so much, and I wouldn’t have done anything differently. You’re and you will always be my first choice.”

Bucky smiles, leaning closer to press his lips softly against yours. “I wouldn’t have want it any other way either, you were the missing piece of my puzzle. But now it’s complete, I’m complete with you, my precious, baby doll.” And damn, he loves it. It loves you. How sweet and excited you can be, but also how you can always find words to make him speechless, to make him fall in love with you just like he did the first date he met you.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @pono-pura-vida @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @alexxavicry @gremlin-girly @grilledcheesewithjalapeno @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @irisk12 @lilyalone @iris-xoxo-juhu @fckedupandbeautiful @hisredheadedgoddess28 @casa-boiardi @blackhawkfanatic @mrsalexstan @thesarcasmqueen-22 @bamitzzsam @feynightlight @kandis-mom @peachy-satan00 @armystay89 @queen-honeybee-stories @princesscore-angel

[reidmarieprentiss]

First Time For Everything

Summary: Spencer is worried he isn't experienced enough for you; you're glad he hasn't made a move yet.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, mild angst, suggestive content (16+)

Warnings/Includes: virgin Spencer, talks of virginity, past of being used for sex, everyone is insecure, Derek being the best wingman

Word count: 3.8k

a/n: oh to not be used for sex ... i wish baby

main masterlist

"Hey, Morgan, can I talk to you about something?" Spencer asks as he slides into the seat across from Derek on the jet.

Derek puts his phone down, glancing up at him. They're the first and only ones on board so far. "Yeah, kid, what's up?"

Spencer hesitates for a second before shrugging. "Well… I started seeing someone."

"Aye, Reid, good for you!" Derek grins, leaning over the table to give Spencer a light punch on the shoulder.

"Ha, thanks…" Spencer chuckles, rubbing at the spot where Derek hit. His amusement fades as he shifts in his seat.

Derek immediately notices the change in his demeanor and furrows his brows. "Is there something wrong with her… or him?"

"No… it's just that—" Spencer exhales, hesitating before shaking his head. "No, it's fine. Never mind. Pretend I didn't mention it."

"Pretty boy, don't be like that," Derek presses, leaning in slightly. "Come on, talk to me."

Spencer takes a deep breath before starting again. "It's just… I think she's more… sexually advanced than me," he mumbles, his face flushing as he drops his gaze down the aisle.

Derek raises an eyebrow, barely holding back a smirk. "Ohhh," he drags out the sound, sitting back in his seat and folding his arms. "So, what, she got you out here feeling like a rookie, huh?"

Spencer groans and rubs his face with both hands. "I don't know, I just— I feel like she knows so much more than I do in that… department, and I don't want to disappoint her." His voice drops to a whisper, his fingers still covering his face.

Derek chuckles, shaking his head. "Reid, man, first off, if she's with you, she's obviously into you for more than just that. You think she's keeping score or something?"

Spencer peeks at him through his fingers before lowering his hands and sending Derek an unamused look. "Thanks."

"Come on, kid, you know what I mean," Derek says, rolling his eyes.

Spencer sighs, still looking incredibly uncomfortable. "I mean… maybe not exactly keeping score, but she just—she's confident. She's comfortable in her own skin, and I feel like… I don't know. I might not meet her expectations."

"Do you think she has expectations? Have you talked to her about it?" Derek asks, his tone calm but probing.

Spencer shrugs. "She knows she wasn't my first kiss."

"Alright, Reid." Derek leans forward, resting his elbows on the table between them. "You don't have to answer, but just know—I'm not judging."

Spencer shifts uncomfortably. "Okay…"

Derek tilts his head slightly, watching him. "Are you a virgin?"

Spencer's entire face ignites in a deep, burning flush. He feels the heat creep down his neck, his ears practically throbbing. He lets out a humorless laugh, looking away toward the jet window. "Yeah," he admits, his voice quieter than before.

Derek lets out a low whistle, nodding thoughtfully. "Okay, I hear you. You're worried you ain't got enough experience to keep up with her."

Spencer exhales, relieved that Derek actually understands. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Does she know that? Did you tell her you're a virgin?" Derek asks, his voice still even, not pushing too hard.

"No," Spencer mutters, shaking his head.

"Why not?" Derek questions again, still using that gentle tone, not teasing, just curious.

Spencer sighs, running a hand through his hair. "It's embarrassing, man," he grumbles. "I'm 27 years old."

Derek watches him with an understanding expression. "Reid, come on. Nothing is embarrassing about that. It's not a race."

Spencer waves him off, ready to drop the whole conversation, when Derek leans in slightly, his smirk softening into something more reassuring. "Listen, man, confidence doesn't come from experience alone. It comes from knowing what your partner likes and caring enough to make sure she's good. And trust me, if she likes you enough to be with you, she ain't thinking, 'Oh, I wish he had a little more experience under his belt.'" He pauses, then grins. "Pun intended."

Spencer groans again, looking like he wants to sink into the floor. "I walked right into that."

"You sure did, kid," Derek laughs. "But real talk, just talk to her. You're the communication expert, right? Women appreciate a guy who listens and actually cares about what they want. And besides, half of this stuff is about chemistry, not a résumé. You can't fake that."

Spencer nods slowly, considering his words. "Yeah… that makes sense."

Derek claps a hand on his shoulder. "Good. And hey, if you ever need some pointers, I'm happy to—"

"I'm not having this conversation with you," Spencer interrupts quickly, shaking his head.

Derek throws his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright! Just know I got you, kid."

Spencer huffs a small laugh, finally looking a little less mortified. "Thanks, Morgan. I appreciate it."

"Anytime, Pretty Boy. I'm always game to talk about your sex life." Derek smirks, grabbing his phone again.

Spencer groans, covering his face once more. "I never should have said anything."

"Said anything about what?" Emily asks as she and Hotch step onto the jet, both of them pausing near the entrance as they take in the scene before them.

Spencer immediately stiffens, his face still burning from the conversation. He quickly averts his gaze, pretending to be deeply interested in the clouds outside the window.

On the other hand, Derek just smirks, leaning back in his seat. "Nothing, Prentiss. Just giving the kid some sage advice."

Emily raises a skeptical brow, exchanging a glance with Hotch, who looks equally unimpressed but chooses not to engage. "Uh-huh," she says slowly, clearly not buying it.

Spencer clears his throat, desperate to change the subject. "How was the debrief?"

Emily lets it slide for now, but the amused suspicion in her eyes lingers. "Long," she says, dropping into a seat across from them. "And now I'm even more curious about whatever it is you're talking about."

—

When the team returned from the case, the first thing Spencer did—before even stepping inside his apartment—was call you. He didn't care that he was exhausted, that the case had drained him in ways he didn't want to think about right now. He just wanted to hear your voice, to know you were there.

He barely let the door shut behind him before pulling out his phone and dialing your number without hesitation. The call barely rang twice before you picked up.

"Hey," you greeted softly, the warmth in your voice immediately settling something restless inside him.

Spencer let out a breath he was holding, his body sagging against the doorframe. "Hey," he murmured, closing his eyes for a moment. "I just— I just wanted to hear your voice."

You were quiet for a second, and then he heard the familiar sound of rustling sheets. "Are you okay?"

He huffed a small, tired laugh. "Yeah, just… long case."

"You want to come over?" you asked, and God, did he ever.

"Yeah," he admitted, already toeing off his shoes, his body running on nothing but muscle memory and the need to be near you. "Yeah, I do."

"Aww, Spence, you sound exhausted. Do you want to come over tomorrow instead?"

He knows you're probably just being considerate, that you're thinking about how drained he must be after the case. But he can't help how his stomach twists, quiet insecurity creeping in before he can push it away.

Maybe you don't want to see him. Maybe you're not as eager for him as he is for you.

His fingers tighten around the phone, and he swallows hard, forcing himself to keep his voice even. "Oh—uh, yeah. Yeah, if that's better for you," he says, trying to sound casual, but he knows he's not fooling anyone.

"Spencer," you say gently, and he hates that you can probably hear everything he's trying not to say. "I just don't want you running on fumes. You need to rest."

"I know," he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I just—I wanted to see you."

There's a pause, and then your voice softens even more. "Do you want me to come to you?"

His lips parted slightly, caught off guard by the offer. "You don't have to—"

"I know I don't have to," you cut in before he can finish. "But do you want me to?"

Spencer exhales, tension slipping from his shoulders. "Yeah," he admits, quieter this time. "I do."

"Then I'm on my way."

When you arrived at Spencer's apartment, it was as if the entire atmosphere shifted the moment you stepped through the door. The weight of the case, the exhaustion pressing down on him, the restless energy that had been buzzing under his skin—it all faded, dissolving in the quiet comfort of your presence.

Everything felt calmer with you around.

Especially when you were in his arms.

The second he pulled you close, it was like his body finally understood it could relax. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly against him, his face pressing into the crook of your neck as he let out a slow, tired breath. The tension in his muscles melted away, his heartbeat slowing to match the steady rhythm of yours.

"You okay?" you murmured, your hands running gently along his back, grounding him even further.

"Yeah," he whispered against your skin. "Now I am."

You held him a little tighter like you understood exactly what he needed without him having to say a word. And for the first time in what felt like days, Spencer felt like he could breathe again.

"How do you do that?" Spencer murmured into your shoulder, his voice soft, laced with something vulnerable.

"Do what?" you asked, fingers threading through his hair, gently combing through the strands. You felt him sigh against you, his body sinking further into yours like he was trying to memorize the feeling. He loved when you did that.

"Make the world seem less scary," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your hands stilled for just a moment before resuming their soothing motions. His words settled deep in your chest, wrapping around your heart, filling you with warmth and something almost indescribable.

You kissed the side of his head, letting your lips linger there for a second longer than necessary. "Because I'm big, bad and scary," you murmured.

Spencer couldn't help but laugh, the sound bubbling up before he could stop it. He pulled back just enough to look at you, still grinning, and was met with your own wide, goofy smile. The kind of smile that made his chest feel too tight, his heart pounding just a little harder than it should.

And then he realized—this was it.

This was the moment.

With your hips pressed together, your gorgeous smile beaming up at him, and your dreamy eyes shining with amusement and something softer beneath them, Spencer suddenly remembered the second piece of advice Derek had given him.

"You just gotta be confident, walk in there, and lay it on her."

For all his intelligence and ability to recall and analyze even the most minute details, Spencer had never quite mastered confidence when it came to things like this. But as he stood there, looking at you, feeling the warmth of your body against his, he thought—maybe he could try.

He swallowed hard, his fingers twitching against your waist before he finally spoke, voice just a little unsteady but full of intent.

"Then I guess I should just... lay it on you, huh?"

Your smile faltered for half a second, your eyes widening slightly, and that reaction alone made his breath catch in his throat. Because for the first time, he saw something shift in your expression—something knowing, something new, something that made him want to follow through.

He didn't overthink it this time.

The moment Spencer leaned in, the rest of the world faded away. The second his lips met yours, it was like a spark ignited between you, something electric and all-consuming.

The kiss started slow and hesitant as if Spencer were still testing the waters. But something inside him shifted, and his grip on your waist tightened, pulling you impossibly closer. 

Time became irrelevant.

The kiss deepened, turning from something careful into something desperate, something that felt like it had been waiting to happen for far too long. His hands moved up your back, fingertips pressing into you like he was afraid you'd slip away if he let go. 

Spencer was about to try something new—maybe slip his tongue past your lips, bite your lip, or something else entirely. The possibilities felt endless, thrilling, completely uncharted territory. But you pulled back just as he was about to take that step.

He blinked at you, still slightly dazed, lips parted as if he hadn't expected the moment to end so suddenly.

You sucked on your own lip shyly, your eyes darting up to his before dropping away again. Then you laughed—soft, a little awkward, a little hesitant. "Is that why you invited me over?"

Spencer furrowed his brows, still caught in the haze of what had just happened. "What?"

"Just horny, big guy?" you teased, but there was something off in your voice, something uncertain beneath the humor, something that made Spencer's stomach twist.

His eyes widened, panic flashing across his face. "What? No, no, Y/N, no. I missed you. Really." His voice was rushed, desperate to make you believe him. "I'm sorry—I don't know what got into me."

You nodded, lips pressing together as if trying to push down whatever you felt. "It's okay," you said lightly, though the weight in your eyes told him it wasn't just okay.

So much for trying new things.

Spencer let out a quiet breath, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling frustration—not at you, but at himself, at his own inability to navigate this without stumbling. "I didn't invite you over for that," he said again, softer this time like he was trying to erase any doubt you might have. "I just… I just wanted to be with you."

Your expression softened just a little, but the moment had already shifted, and the atmosphere no longer crackled with the same intensity as before. Spencer swallowed hard, unsure how to fix it or even if he could.

So instead, he did what he always did—he overthought, panicked internally, and, worst of all, let the silence stretch between you.

"You can go home if you want," Spencer sighed, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn't meet your eyes, his gaze fixed somewhere near the floor instead.

It felt like a knife twisting in your stomach. Your breath hitched as you stared at him, disbelief and hurt tightening your chest. "Wh-what? You want me to leave now? Because I wouldn't have sex with you?"

Your voice wavered despite the edge of anger creeping into it, but underneath it all was something much more painful—betrayal.

Spencer's heart dropped the second he heard the hurt in your voice.

His head snapped up, his eyes wide with panic. "What? No! No, Y/N, that's not what I meant," he rushed out, his words tripping over themselves in his desperation to fix what had just gone wrong. Y/N, I swear that is not it," he said, shaking his head frantically. That's not what I was saying."

"Then what were you saying, Spencer?" You searched his face, your voice steadier now but no less wounded.

Spencer inhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he tried to find the words. He felt like everything was spiraling, like no matter what he said now, he had already made you feel like you weren't wanted here.

And that was the last thing he wanted.

"I—I just thought maybe you felt uncomfortable," he admitted his voice quieter now, tinged with frustration at himself. "I didn't want you to feel pressured or—trapped here with me."

You stared at him, and for a second, neither of you spoke. The weight of the moment hung heavy between you.

"Spencer," you finally said, your voice softer than before, "if I felt uncomfortable, I would leave. You don't have to tell me I can go."

His heart squeezed painfully in his chest.

"I want to be here," you continued, stepping a little closer, searching his face for any sign that you weren't completely misreading everything. "I just… I don't want that to be the only reason you want me here."

Spencer's head snapped up, his eyes wide, filled with something close to panic. "It's not," he said quickly, shaking his head, his hands twitching like he wanted to reach for you but wasn't sure if he should. "God, Y/N, it's not. I swear."

"Okay," you murmured, offering him a small, hesitant smile.

Spencer let out a breath, his hands still fidgeting at his sides. "So… you're staying?"

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head but smiling wider now. "Yes, Spencer. I'm staying."

And just like that, the tension in the room began to dissolve.

"But we need to talk about this again later," you said, your voice gentle but firm. This wasn't something that could just be brushed aside, and you needed him to understand that.

Spencer nodded quickly, his grip on your hand tightening just slightly like he feared you'd change your mind and leave anyway. "Yeah," he agreed, swallowing hard. "We will. I promise."

You studied him for a second longer before sighing softly, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "Okay," you murmured, letting the tension ease just enough to move forward, at least for tonight.

With that, the two of you headed to bed. Spencer climbed in beside you, hesitant at first, unsure if he should keep his distance after everything. But as soon as you nestled against him, your warmth pressing into his side, he exhaled deeply, finally letting himself relax.

Neither of you spoke for a while, just lying there in the quiet, feeling the rise and fall of each other's breaths.

And even though there was still a conversation to be had—still things to work through—at least for now, in this moment, you were here. And for Spencer, that was enough.

—

The next evening, after dinner, you curled up on Spencer's couch, your legs tucked beneath you as you turned to face him. He was clearly tense, hands clasped between his knees, and his eyes flickered toward you and away again.

You took a slow breath, steadying yourself before you spoke. "I just want to start by saying I do believe you," you said, watching the way his shoulders relaxed slightly. "I know you didn't invite me over just for sex. And I'm really grateful for you, Spencer. You have no idea."

His brows knitted together, his head tilting slightly. "Grateful?"

You nodded, your fingers twisting together in your lap. "I've been in relationships before where… that's all I was. Where the second I wasn't giving them what they wanted, I wasn't worth their time anymore." You swallowed, looking down for a second before meeting his gaze again. "So, to finally be with someone who isn't just using me for sex? It means a lot to me."

Spencer's face softened, something aching in his expression as he shifted slightly closer. "Y/N… I would never do that to you," he said earnestly, his voice thick with emotion. "I—I don't even know how to be that kind of person. I just…" He let out a breath, shaking his head. "I messed up. I moved too fast and made you feel like that's all I wanted, even when it wasn't true. And I hate that I made you feel that way."

You exhaled slowly, nodding. "I know you didn't mean to," you admitted. "But Spencer, sex is… complicated for me. I can't separate it from how I've been treated in the past. So when things escalated like that, I panicked."

His jaw clenched, guilt flashing across his face. "I should have been paying more attention to your feelings instead of just going with the moment."

You reached out, taking his hand in yours, feeling the tension in his fingers before he relaxed against you. "I just need you to understand that it's not that I don't want you," you said softly, squeezing his hand. "I do. But I need to go at a pace that doesn't make me feel like I'm just… filling a role, you know?"

Spencer nodded, his grip tightening slightly. "I understand. And I—I want to do this right with you." He swallowed hard, his voice quieter now. "You're not just anyone to me, Y/N. I don't want to do anything that makes you doubt that."

You felt your heart swell at his words, at the sincerity in his voice, and at the way he looked at you as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

"Thank you," you whispered.

Spencer smiled softly, his fingers lacing through yours. "I just want to be with you."

Your chest warmed, and you felt completely, undeniably safe.

"I want to be with you too," you said softly, a warm smile tugging at your lips as you cuddled closer, letting your body melt into his.

Spencer exhaled, his arm tightening around you instinctively like he never wanted to let you go. He rested his head on top of yours, his breath tickling your hair. For a moment, there was only the sound of your breathing, the steady rhythm of your hearts beating in sync.

Then, after a brief pause, he spoke. "I need to tell you one more thing."

You tilted your head slightly, your fingers absentmindedly tracing circles against his chest. "What's up, Spence?"

He hesitated, his grip on you flexing ever so slightly before he finally said it. "I'm a virgin."

You froze momentarily, processing his words, before you pulled back slightly to look at him. His face was already tinged pink, his gaze flickering away like he expected you to react a certain way—like he wasn't sure if you'd be surprised or disappointed.

But you weren't either of those things.

Instead, you smiled, gently kissing his cheek and guiding his eyes back to yours. "Spencer," you murmured, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone, "that doesn't change anything for me."

His brows furrowed slightly. "It doesn't?"

You shook your head, your smile softening. "Not even a little. It just makes me feel even luckier to be the person you want to experience that with whenever you're ready."

Spencer swallowed, his throat bobbing as he took in your words, letting them settle into the quiet, insecure part of him that had been holding onto that secret for so long. Finally, he exhaled, a small, relieved smile ghosting over his lips.

"You really mean that?" he asked, almost shyly.

You nodded, leaning in to press a featherlight kiss to his lips. "Of course I do."

And when you pulled back, Spencer was still blushing—but now, it wasn't out of embarrassment. 

It was love. And maybe a bit of lust.

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[greengoblinswifey]

Off Limits

pairing— stepdad!in-ho x stepdaughter!reader

summary— since in-ho has married your mother, you’ve had him wrapped around your finger and your pussy wrapped around his cock—but lately, he’d been neglecting you in favor of her. you get his attention in the only way you know how, making him jealous.

warnings— minors DNI. age gap(19, early 50s) jealousy, spanking, face fucking, daddy kink, katoptronophilia, choking, hair pulling, cock worship, orgasm denial, begging, unprotected sex, creampie.

a/n— i feel like after this you guys can tell i have daddy issues but enjoy! requests for stepdad!in-ho are open.

You had spent the last few weeks feeling almost restless. Ever since In-ho started spending less time at home, and more with your mother at the request of wanting to hang out with her husband more, your usual interactions had been reduced to fleeting glances at dinner and quickies when he finally managed to slip away. He was distant and when he wasn’t with your mother—he was occupied with his mysterious occupation and you hated how much you noticed. How much you missed him. But you weren’t the type to sit around sulking. If he was going to ignore you, you’d make sure he regretted it.

Sure, you had no right to be jealous. He was your mother’s husband. No one told you to go fuck your stepfather, of course he’d start spending time with his own wife instead.

So when a popular frat boy from your university asked you out, again—you finally said yes. Not because you liked him, but because you knew it would get a reaction from In-ho.

Getting ready, you chose the skimpiest two piece outfit you owned. The fabric clung to your body in all the right places, the skirt riding just high enough to show your ass cheeks and your thong strings were on your hips. You knew exactly what you were doing when you stepped out of your room.

He was there, standing in the hallway, watching you with an unreadable expression. His gaze dragged over your figure, slowly, before settling on your face.

“Where are you going?” His voice was calm, but there was something sharp underneath it.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I have a date,” you smirked, tilting your head.

His jaw tensed. “Go back inside and change that sorry excuse of an outfit. You aren’t going anywhere.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, not happening.”

He exhaled through his nose, something dark flickering in his gaze, but he didn’t say another word. You walked past him without looking back.

The date was fine. The guy was charming, a little full of himself, but he paid for dinner and made you laugh a couple of times. Still, your mind was elsewhere. And when he dropped you back home, you made sure to lean in and kiss him on the cheek before stepping out of the car.

As you turned to walk inside, you threw one last glance over your shoulder. “You know, you’re free to touch if you’d like,” you said playfully, knowing full well a certain someone would be watching.

The guy grinned, slapping your ass and biting his lip before driving off. He hadn’t gotten any pussy but he definitely scored that night.

You didn’t need to turn around to know In-ho was there, standing just inside the house, waiting. The door clicked shut behind you, locking you in with the storm brewing in his gaze.

You swallowed, your heart pounding in your chest. Maybe you had pushed too far.

“What the hell was that?” His voice was low, but there was no mistaking the irritation beneath it.

You rolled your eyes and moved to push past him. “Isn’t my mother waiting for you?” you said, asked.

Before you could take another step, his hand wrapped around your wrist, firm but not painful. “It’s just us right now,” he said, his voice heavier.

You tried to yank your arm away, glaring up at him. “Let me go.”

His jaw tightened. “You’ve been a brat all night,” he muttered. His gaze dropped briefly, taking in your outfit again, and his grip tensed just slightly. “And you really walked out of here wearing this? For him?”

You scoffed, looking anywhere but at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He let out a low, humorless chuckle. “You think I didn’t see you? Letting that kid put his hands on your ass like that?”

You lifted your chin, crossing your arms. “And?”

That muscle in his jaw twitched. He let go of your wrist only to grab you again, firmer this time, pulling you toward the bedroom.

“Hey—” you started, trying to dig your heels into the floor, but he was stronger.

“Shut the fuck up,” he muttered, kicking the door shut behind you. “You’ve been running your mouth all night.”

You shoved at his arm, cursing under your breath. “This is ridiculous.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you forward over his lap. You gasped, trying to push up, but his hand pressed against the small of your back.

“In-ho—”

“You went out with that little boy wearing nothing but a thong?” he asked, lifting the hem of your skirt, scoffing. “Figures.”

You squirmed. “Let me go.”

“You know the drill.” His voice was calm, almost amused. “Count.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the sharp sting that followed had you sucking in a breath instead.

“One.”

Another.

“T-two.”

His hand came down again, this time a bit harder. “I’m sorry,” you whined.

He scoffed, smoothing his hand over your burning ass. “Sorry who?”

“I’m sorry, daddy.”

It clearly wasn’t enough for him as his hand came down once more.

By the time he reached fifteen, your breath was shaky, and your ass tingled with heat.

He exhaled, running a hand over your ass before finally letting you go. You sat up quickly, glaring at him through glassy eyes.

He smirked, leaning back slightly. “That little stunt of yours was cute.”

You huffed, wiping your eyes. “S-shut up.”

Still, the way he was looking at you made it clear—he knew you weren’t going to pull something like that again.

You pouted, the look on your face making his resolve falter. “Can you hold me? Please daddy.”

He wanted nothing more than to scoop you into his arms and tell you all was well but you needed to learn. He tilted your chin, meeting your watery, pouty gaze. “When you’ve learned to be a good girl but you’re not there yet.”

He undid his belt, his hard cock springing free and you immediately knew what you had to do.

“Get on your knees, worship this cock and show me exactly how sorry you are.”

You nodded, getting on his knees to place a soft kiss on his tip, murmuring, “I love how perfect you are.” Your lips traced a slow path on his shaft, and you could feel his gaze on you. “So big daddy,” you whispered, your words a mix of praise and awe. You knew he liked hearing it, the way his jaw tightened and his fingers threaded through your curls told you so.

“Shut up,” he said, his tone more commanding now. “I don't need you to tell me, you're going to show me.”

Your lips parted, and you took him in your mouth, your gaze flicking up to meet his. His hand tightened in your curls, guiding you to remind you who was in control. “That's it, baby,” he murmured, his voice rough. “Keep going, just like that.”

You continued, your focus entirely on him, feeling his quiet approval in the way his cock throbbed, though his hand remained firmly in your hair. He let out a soft moan, “You're doing so good for me,” he murmured, his words making your pussy throb. “Sometimes you can be a good girl.”

You glided your tongue along his length, your voice barely above a whisper as you said, “I love making you feel good, daddy.” Your fingers traced gentle patterns on his balls, adding to the warmth of your affection.

You took him deep into your throat, gagging as you did but it only turned him on. His grip on your curls remained, pushing your head down then thrusting when you got too comfortable. You swirled your tongue around his shaft, saliva and pre cum dripping down your chin, and you made sure your eyes looked up at him, full of admiration as he fucked your face.

“Such a beautiful fucking slut for your daddy,” he moaned. He began thrusting faster, ready to shoot his load down your throat. “Get ready, and you're going to swallow every drop.” You hummed in response, the vibration sending him over the edge and he pushed your head all the way down until your nose touched his pelvis. His cum shot down your throat and you swallowed every drop like the good girl you aimed to be.

He pulled you off him by your hair, his breath shaky, cock twitching.

“I’d eat your pussy but you don’t deserve that right now.” You pouted at his words. “Get on the bed. Face down, ass up. Move.”

You obeyed, biting your lip as you crawled onto the bed, positioning yourself as he instructed. Your heart raced as you glanced at the mirror in front of the bed, where you could see the reflection of the both of you. In-ho stood behind you, his intense gaze fixed on you as he pulled off his shirt, revealing the muscles of his torso.

He tore your skirt and your thong off, then your skimpy top followed. His smirk was almost cruel, his hands brushing along the curve of your now bare ass as he positioned himself behind you.

“You're going to behave now, aren't you, sweetie?” he murmured. “Or do I need to remind you who's in charge?”

You rolled your eyes and he slapped your ass in response, making you yelp. He didn't hesitate, gripping your waist tightly before plunging into you with a force that left you screaming. Your face buried into the pillow instinctively, but his low, commanding voice brought you back.

“No,” he growled, his fingers tightening around your hips. “Look at yourself. Look at what happens when you act out. Watch me punish you."”

You turned your head toward the mirror, catching sight of him in all his glory. His dark eyes met yours in the reflection, a look of dominance swirling in them.

“That's fucking right,” he said, slamming into you harder, making your entire body jolt. “Don't you dare look away.”

Your breath hitched as his pace quickened, each stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. “Daddy, I'm sorry,” you cried, your voice trembling.

“Too bad.” he said sharply, his lips curving into a smirk. “You've been a brat and a damn whore all night. You don't get to apologize now.”

His rhythm didn't relent, his grip firm as he hit that spot inside you that made you tremble uncontrollably. “You're enjoying this way too much," he murmured, his tone almost teasing as he noticed the way your pussy soaked his cock.

He could feel the way you clenched around him and he grabbed your throat, pulling you back to his chest.

“You wanna cum for daddy? Yeah?” he asked.

“Yes, daddy,” you sobbed. “P-please let me cum. I promise I’ll be good.”

He chuckled darkly, shoving you back down into the mattress, your face pressed into it. “Beg me, scream for me. Tell me how sorry you are.”

The overwhelming urge to cum was so much, you couldn’t hold back the words that tumbled from your lips even if you tried.

“Please daddy! Please, let me cum. I- I’m so sorry! I won’t be a brat anymore, I swear. Please, wanna cum s-so bad,” you cried, your voice breaking into a pathetic sob.

You could feel the way his cock throbbed inside you at your words. He pulled you back by your neck, your gaze locked on him in the mirror.

“You’ve earned it, baby. Cum for daddy, soak my cock.”

His words were all you needed, your body shook in his arms, and your orgasm took ahold of you. Babbling incoherent words, you squirted, the sensation so intense that his cum spurted deep inside your pussy. He pressed your face into the bed, moaning loudly as he fucked his cum into you and rode out his high. When he was satisfied, he collapsed onto the bed, laying kisses all over your face as he tried to ground you.

In-ho exhaled as he stood up, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment before returning with a warm cloth. He crouched down beside you, his touch surprisingly gentle as he wiped your face, brushing away the dampness on your cheeks then cleaned between your legs. His fingers lingered for a moment, thumb grazing your cheek.

“What’s really wrong, sweetie?” His voice had softened now, no longer edged with frustration.

You pouted, crossing your arms. “You’ve been spending so much time with mom,” you muttered, barely meeting his gaze. “I feel alone.”

He sighed, shaking his head as he sat beside you. “You don’t have to be jealous or seek attention from some little boy to get a reaction out of me,” he said, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to look at him. “You’re the one I want. You know that.”

Your defenses crumbled at his words, and without thinking, you buried your face into the crook of his neck. His arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you close, stroking your hair and your back.

“Good girl,” he murmured, running his hand down your back in soothing strokes. “You know I’m yours regardless.” His lips brushed the top of your head. “And you’re mine. My princess, my baby girl.”

You exhaled, finally relaxing against him as he held you, warm and a bit—fatherly, exactly where you wanted to be.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Tags: @chrisgetsmewetter @namsgyu @pillowtalk6 @namelesslosers @verouys @megangovier @torasgfreal @badasoneandonly @nicholaschavezslut69 @cathers-world @hisokasimp1 @matcham1lk @blushlaced

[luca-street-chris-deacon-rp]

Hicks laughed at Lexi's lunch recall. "Yeah, I'm not surprised by that, and Theo's lucky to have a mom and dad who can both cook. When Molly and John- Paul were little, I wasn't around as much as I should have been, and Barb did it all of it on her own." He recalled, troubled by it even after so many years. "Guess it made them how they are. Even after Barb died, they blamed me for a lot of it. But Barb was the one who held it together, kept things running and put food on the table. She did everything and more." Hearing that Lexi was willing to help definitely piqued his interest and he was relieved. "We can use all the help we can get. I've got an FBI behavioural analyst coming here tomorrow, so do you think you be here for seven am?"@lexi

@lexi-rpb

After a night of fun and mind-blowing sex, both Luca and Lexi slept soundly until six in the morning and strangely Theo hadn't woken up in the night for a feed, so Luca went to check on him and he was perfectly fine. "Yeah, you know if you wake up Santa might not come." He whispered to his son, taking the baby monitor downstairs with him and being as quiet as possible so he didn't wake Sofia who was excited for Santa.

So he sat in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, the tablet playing the Simpson's and the dogs were looking for all his affection and then they would run out into the yard. He didn't mind the door being open to let the dogs come and go as they pleased, he was wearing thick sweat pants and a long sleeved t-shirt under his robe and his feet were in cosy slippers that Niamh had bought him. She called them his dad slippers. @lexi-rpb

[svtiddiess]

Could I request number 17 from the first list with Scoups and maybe Jeonghan as the one eho catches them?

Cuddles And Kisses

Pairing: Seungcheol x afab!reader

Genre: fluff, suggestive, established relationship, drabble

Rating: suggestive

Word count: 0.4k

You giggle softly as Seungcheol's hair brushes against your neck, sending a ticklish shiver down your spine. It's been a chaotic week for both of you, and the added pressure of keeping your relationship under wraps has made it even harder to find time together. But now, finally stealing a quiet moment, you're curled up on the couch in Seungcheol's apartment, wrapped in each other’s arms while some random show plays on the TV in the background.

"I wish you could just stay with me forever," Seungcheol murmurs, his voice low and warm as he nuzzles closer, his breath ghosting over your skin.

"Me too," you reply softly, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his arm.

Being apart from Seungcheol is always tough, especially when he's off touring the world. But no matter how far apart you are, he never lets you forget how much he loves you or how much he longs to have you back in his arms. It’s those little reminders that keep you going.

Seungcheol smiles, his lips brushing feather-light kisses along your jawline, eliciting another quiet giggle from you. "I love your laugh," he murmurs, his voice tender. "I could listen to it all day."

His kisses trail upward, slow and deliberate, until they finally meet your lips. You melt into the kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair as the warmth between you grows. What starts as sweet and gentle quickly deepens, the pent-up longing of days apart pouring into every touch, every breath.

Seungcheol pulls you onto his lap, and you settle there, straddling him as his hands grip your waist. He tilts his head, deepening the kiss, and a soft moan escapes your lips. The slow roll of your hips against his draws a low groan from him, his fingers tightening their hold on you.

"So this is why you weren't picking up my calls."

The two of you freeze, your heads snapping toward the voice. Standing in the doorway is Jeonghan, his signature grin plastered across his face, looking far too pleased with himself.

"What the—Jeonghan?! When did you get here?!" Seungcheol exclaims, his voice a mix of shock and embarrassment.

"Just now," Jeonghan shrugs. "So this is why you've been all giggly and distracted lately," he teases, his grin widening.

You and Seungcheol exchange a panicked glance, your faces burning. Well, there's no turning back now. You definitely have a lot of explaining to do.

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina @theidontknowmehn @toplinehyunjin @gyuhao365 @mysticfairies @cherrylovescheol @cookiearmy @4shypotato @lxnnrobin @sashaaahh @xueisaaa17 @aeriyell @eshia16 @dreamingofpcy @archivistworld @kyeomiis @iwannakisspoutycheol @foxiesgf24 @livelaughloveseventeen @aliiikareed @jennwonwoo @brownsugarbaybee

[blxxmingrose]

hans laughed a carefree laugh—probably the loudest he’s laughed in a while after june’s words. he was clearly having fun with all of this, making grand declarations about their teamwork that made hans feel like it could certainly be one for the books. “okay, whoa, no need to threaten me with dish duty for a week,” he replied just as dramatically, raising his hands in front of him in resignation. 

this felt nice, hans thought. it was certainly a more energetic breakfast table than he was used to when all he had was sunny’s giggles and his half-asleep antics. having june around made it feel like… family. 

and when he heard the word slip out of june’s lips, his heart couldn’t help but react in an unexpected way, pounding loudly in his chest as if it was saying ‘there, that’s what i want. family.’ 

“are we going to give ihop a run for their money?” he raised his eyebrows in a challenge as he took another bite, sunny’s and june’s smiling faces making the pancakes taste much, much better. “well, go on and pack your bags, then!” it was easy to match the energy from june, and it made hans feel like he could carry on the entire day like this. 

sunny was eating enthusiastically too, and as if she had remembered what hans whispered in her room, she was trying to mind her mess. it made hans’ heart swell with pride, his smile widening as he glanced at the two of them. a family pancake restaurant seemed like the best idea in the world now.

“you’re setting the standard too high for future breakfasts now,” hans added, still teasing. “what if these pancakes are just beginner’s luck? what if tomorrow... they’re all flat?” his eyes widened in mock horror, leaning forward to bring his face closer to sunny, which made her giggle even louder. 

hearing her sound so happy, hearing june sound so happy, having both of them here, he could certainly get used to all of this.  

june mirrored hans’ triumphant look, but his was laced with something far more smug, his smirk practically radiating self-satisfaction. “good teamwork?” he echoed, scoffing playfully as he reached for his own pancake. “hans, i think you mean exceptional teamwork. best pancake-making duo in the business. a legendary collaboration.” he gestured vaguely between the three of them, as if the history books would one day recount this morning with reverence.

taking a bite, he hummed approvingly, nodding. “flawless as expected. i think we could take this show on the road.” he turned his attention to sunny, who was still giggling between bites. “what do you think? should we start a family pancake restaurant? travel the world? become famous?” sunny nodded enthusiastically, mouth still full, and june grinned. his tone had been teasing, but there was a warmth beneath it, an acknowledgment of just how much he enjoyed this.

he took another bite, sighing as he leaned back slightly in his chair. it was funny, how something so simple could feel so right. if someone had told him months ago that he’d be here now — sitting at this table, laughing with hans and sunny over breakfast, feeling like he belonged in a way he never had before — he wasn’t sure he would’ve believed them. but now, he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

he lifted his fork, pointing it at hans with mock seriousness. “but if you ever doubt our teamwork again, i’m putting you on dish duty for a week.”

[matchpointfaist]

dilf! art

he finally worked up the nerve to text you after a long two days, after much deliberation of if this was even ethical, if pursuing his peers daughter made him a creep. he decided that, no, it didn’t. your dad was older than him, and he still spent time surrounded by athletes your age anyway. plus, you had to be interested, or you would have never given him the time of day. with all that in mind, he sent you a simple text.

‘hey, it’s art. how are you?’

you replied soon after, casting a small smile across his face.

‘hi! i’m good, you? i didn’t see you around the courts this morning.’

god, had you looked for him? the thought twisted into something obscene so quickly that he had to blink it away, shaking his head and trying to regain focus.

‘i’m at home, actually. have an event this afternoon in the city.’

it was safe, he told himself. small talk with an acquaintance, that’s all. just friendly.

‘oo, what event? that’s such a funny coincidence, i’ll be in the city tonight as well at the club’s charity gala.’

oh, god. oh, he was so fucked. an entire night, with you, in a semi intimate setting. your father would probably be there. hell, his ex wife would probably be there.

‘i’ll be there too. small world.’

his throat was dry as he sent the message, his teeth worrying over his bottom lip, a mix of dread and excitement curling in his stomach.

‘see you tonight then! xx’

art, embarrassingly, spent the entire car ride to the gala psyching himself up for seeing you. he went over all the variables and possibilities, all the ways that he needed to avoid making a complete fool of himself, all the ways he wanted to impress you.

time stopped when he saw you, your satin dress sparkling in the light, your laugh carrying through the room and going straight to his head. your dress was short and your heels were tall and you looked like a fucking model, like a daydream, a vision of tanned legs and shimmery makeup.

“oh, mr. donaldson!” the sound of his name from your lips snapped him from his trance, and he smiled the best he could, practically buzzing with your proximity, “i’m glad you made it. here, i saved you a seat next to me. my father couldn’t make it, so it was empty,”

“oh, thank you,” he grabbed a champagne flute from a passing server, trying not to let his gaze linger too much as you lead him to the seats, your hips swaying with every step. it was gonna be a long night, he thought to himself. especially without your father to be a buffer.

thankfully, once you took your seats, the long droning of speeches started. over an hour of pledges and donation announcements and information on the benefits of the charity, things that he didn’t particularly care about but was suddenly grateful for, since it kept him from making any reckless mistakes involving you.

god, you. you’d been drinking champagne like it was going to disappear, glass after glass without any other substance to keep you from getting too drunk. you were giggling by the time the speeches wrapped, laughing at nothing in particular, covering your mouth as you did. he should’ve suggested you slow down- shouldve done the right thing, been a good influence, been the mature one.

but then your hand was on his shoulder, and the giggles had stopped, replaced by a glint in your eyes that he couldn’t quite place. “you’re so strong,” you told him, smiling and biting your lip, looking him over, “is that all from tennis, mr. donaldson? your arms are so big,” and you were squeezing at his bicep with your manicured hands, watching him in a way that made his heart stutter.

“it’s- yeah, it’s all from tennis. i mean, i work out too, but tennis is most of it,” he cleared his throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure, “i think you’re drunk, sweetheart. do you want me to call you an uber? or do you have someone that can come pick you up? this was right- the ethical thing to do. to send you off and shake this from his mind and steer clear from now on.

“i don’t wanna go home,” you sighed, leaning your head back on your chair dramatically, “my driver will be here in an hour and a half. i’ll be fine,”

“you had seven glasses, i think fine is an exaggeration,” he mumbled, “let me take you home. i don’t want anything to happen you,” he didn’t want any guys to take advantage of you- didn’t want them to do the very things he was thinking of at that moment.

to his surprise, you agreed, and he suddenly wasn’t sure if it was relief or dread he felt. when he stood to leave, you stood with him, pulling yourself up by his arm and letting your touch linger once again, looking up at him and smiling so sweetly it was hard to believe you’d been throwing back drinks all night.

“come on, darlin,” he led you outside, opening doors and excusing the two of you, calling the valet and waiting patiently. he tried to train his eyes anywhere but you, looking entirely too long at the fountain, at the other cars, anywhere but your legs and your curled hair and your- “mr. donaldson,” your voice disturbed him once again, “it’s really cold,”

he glanced over, and you were shivering in the night air, holding your arms around your chest tightly. he acted before thinking, like he always did with you, and shrugged off his suit jacket, draping it over your small shoulders lightly. “that better?” he asked softly, concern knitting his brows. you nodded, thanking him and taking the fabric into your hands, pulling it tighter around you.

“mr. don-“ “please, call me art,” it came out almost pained, but he truly didn’t know if he could take it anymore, the mr. and the way you looked at him, and then oh god- “okay, art,”

this was so much worse, his first name on your lips like that. he nearly choked on air, his cheeks reddening like a fucking high schooler. before he could dwell on it, the valet pulled his car around, tossing him the keys with a smile. he opened the door for you, looking over the car to avoid having to see your thighs sliding against the leather seat.

when he settled into the drivers side, pulling out of the lot, you finally spoke again. “your car is nice,” you hummed, tracing your fingers over the leather interior. he watched you, entranced, as he sat at a stop light. the way your fingernails scraped slightly over the fabric, the way you glanced over at him, a coy little smile on your lips.

he tried to ignore it, to just focus on the road. he maintained it for the most part, making it all the way to your street before he let it slip, glancing over at you. you looked to be half asleep, all curled up in his suit coat, your heels discarded in the floor and your feet tucked into the seat. you looked so peaceful, so angelic, he had to force his eyes away so he didn’t wreck his car.

he pulled into the drive, letting it idle just outside your gate, reaching over to touch your shoulder gently. “hey, sweetheart, you’re home,” he murmured, trying not to startle you awake, “come on, you gotta get up,”

you made a little noise as you stirred, turning in the seat to look up at him, yawning quietly. “thank you,” you said softly, and the air was suddenly so thick, it was so warm and you were so fucking beautiful- “will your wife be wondering where you are?”

all the breath left his lungs at that, at the presumption in your tone, the way you glanced him over as you asked. “ex wife,” he choked out, “we’re not- we got divorced,” “mm,” you hummed, smiling slightly, “that’s a shame. i’m sorry to hear that,”

“don’t be,” he said a little too quickly, “you really should go, darlin. it’s late,” you sat back to unbuckle your seatbelt, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to him carefully. “thank you again for the ride, art,” you said quietly, “it was really sweet of you. most guys would’ve tried something,”

the image was almost too much for him to bear- the thought of trying something with you, of getting to touch you, to make you come undone right there in the passenger seat of his car. he shifted in his seat, clearing his throat, struggling to focus. “well, most guys are stupid,” he muttered, “you’re obviously too drunk to do anything,”

you let out a little laugh at that, shaking your head. “you’re so chivalrous,” you smiled, “maybe it’s because you’re older. i’m so tired of guys my age,” jesus christ, he was a goner. “yeah?” he exhaled shakily, “you’re tired of them? why’s that?”

“they just don’t know how to treat a woman,” you shrugged, “they’re rushed and greedy and assholes,” you giggled quietly, “you know how it is. i’m sure you have younger girls hanging all over you,” god, he wanted to. “no, no,” he shook his head quickly, “i don’t- i don’t want to take advantage of anyone that way,”

you leaned a little closer, the smell of your perfume suddenly clogging his senses, “well let me know if you ever change your mind,” you whispered, the heat blowing through the vents nearly drowning out the sound.

“sweetheart, you don’t- you’re drunk,” he managed to get out, his hands itching to grab at you, to do something. “i’m not that drunk,” you argued, pouting slightly, “anyway, i’m just saying. you have my number,”

you turned to get out, and he knew it was stupid, knew it was reckless and a bad idea and he’d regret it tomorrow and you were young and he was such a bad person, but then he was kissing you and you made a soft little preening sound and he knew he’d never regret it, not truly. he’d be a bad person if it meant he got to do this again, if he got to be the one to make you make that sound.

you kissed him back, draped across his center console to reach him, your hands on his shoulders and grabbing at his dress shirt and he could’ve lost it right there, could’ve pushed the seat back and pulled you into his lap and fucked you stupid, could’ve made you see what you were missing with all the boys your age. and he was sure you would’ve let him, if the noises you made from just his kisses were any indicator.

but then the motion light at your gate was on, and he was yanking away from you like a criminal caught, his eyes wide as he looked at your blown out pupils and smeared lipstick. “oh, shit,” you said under your breath, fixing your dress and grabbing your heels, “my dad tried to call my cell, i didn’t even notice. thank you again, art. i’ll see you at the club,”

and then you were gone, leaving the scent of your perfume and the tent in his slacks behind. he watched you put in the gate code and disappear behind it, his mind running wild with what he could’ve done to you.

when he got home, he tried to shower it off, to wash off the all consuming need he felt for you, the sins he’d nearly committed in his car. but his hands wandered and soon he was cursing and moaning your name under his breath as he came undone under the shower stream, images of you and that dress playing like a film in his mind.

when he got into bed and checked his phone, he had one unread message.

‘i had fun tonight. goodnight, art. x’

[astars-things]

hiiiii, could you please write anything fluffy with Hughes!brothers pls when you have time 💕. Hope ur doing well xx ❤️❤️

I'm doing okay thank you for asking x

word count- 1003

Being the eldest of four siblings meant you had always been the one looking out for Quinn, Jack, and Luke. You were a year older than Quinn, three years older than Jack, and five years older than Luke. But for the past year, you had been traveling the world, chasing adventure and discovering new places. 

As incredible as it had been, nothing compared to home, and you missed your family more than words could express. Jack and Luke had made it painfully obvious how much they missed you, constantly sending you messages and complaining about how quiet things were without you. Quinn, being Quinn, wasn’t as vocal, but you knew he felt the same. And your parents? They were counting down the days until you returned—except they had no idea today was the day.

You had planned this surprise down to the last detail. Turning off Life360 and telling your family you’d be in a no-service area had worked like a charm—no suspicions at all. You knew they were all at the lake house for the summer since hockey was on pause, which made it the perfect opportunity. Your flight had been at an ungodly hour, and by the time you landed in Michigan, the sun was already starting to dip—5 PM, just in time for their weekly game night.

Your childhood best friend, who was just as excited as you, had eagerly agreed to pick you up from the airport. The moment you stepped into the arrivals area, she sprinted toward you, practically tackling you in a hug.

“Y/N!” she shrieked, squeezing you so tight you could barely breathe. "god i misses you so much"

“I missed you too ,” you said breathlessly, laughing as you hugged her back.

The car ride to the lake house was filled with nonstop chatter, catching up on everything you had missed.

“Oh my God, I met the hottest man while I was in Australia,” you gushed, still thinking about how dreamy he had been. “He was just… ahh.”

She smirked, shaking her head. “I need details later. But first, let’s make your family cry.”

As soon as you arrived, you left your luggage in the car, making a mental note to grab it later. Your best friend had already put the next phase of the plan into motion—texting your mom, telling her she missed you and wanted to come over. In reality, she was setting up the perfect moment to record everyone’s reaction.

She walked inside, greeted everyone with a hug, and casually took a seat on the couch, pulling out her phone  she sent you a quick text Now and quickly switching to the camera app to record.

Taking a deep breath, you walked toward the door, heart pounding in anticipation.

You pushed it open gently, stepping inside. “so who is winning? Also where was my invite?”

For a moment, there was silence—stunned, disbelieving silence.

Then all hell broke loose.

Your mom gasped so loudly you thought she might pass out, and before you could blink, she was rushing toward you, arms wide open, tears streaming down her face. “Oh my baby—my baby’s home!” she sobbed, hugging you so tightly it felt like she’d never let go.

Jack let out an actual scream—high-pitched, borderline embarrassing—and launched himself at you, nearly knocking you over. “NO WAY! NO WAY! Y/N! YOU’RE HERE! YOU’RE REALLY HERE!” His voice cracked mid-sentence as he clung to you like a koala.

Luke was right behind him, eyes already red and watery. “I missed you so much,” he choked out, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your shoulder.

You felt another set of arms around you—Quinn. He didn’t say much, just a whispered, “I really missed you,” but the way his voice wavered told you everything you needed to know.

Your dad was wiping his eyes, trying (and failing) to keep it together. “This is the best surprise ever,” he said, pulling you into a tight hug.

Jack sniffled dramatically, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie. “I don’t care if it makes me look weak—I’M CRYING,” he announced.

Luke nodded furiously, wiping his own tears. “Same.”

Quinn, still hugging you, just sighed. “Yeah… me too.” 

Your best friend cackled from the couch, still recording. “I’m so glad I got all of this on video.”

Jack groaned. “This is so embarrassing.”

Jack wiped his face aggressively with his sleeve. “Whatever. I’m just happy you’re home.”

Luke sniffled, still clinging to you like a lost puppy. “You’re not allowed to leave again.”

Quinn, who had finally let go, gave you a soft smile. “Agreed.”

Your mom cupped your face, eyes still shining with happy tears. “You have no idea how much we’ve missed you.”

You leaned into her touch, sighing contentedly. “I missed you all more than words can say.”

Before you could say anything else, Jack suddenly gasped. “WAIT. YOU HAVE TO SIT NEXT TO ME FOR GAME NIGHT.”

Luke pouted. “Uh, no? She’s sitting next to me.”

“Guys,” Quinn interrupted, raising an eyebrow. “She just got here. Let her breathe.”

Your dad chuckled. “Or at least let her eat first.”

But before you could even think about food, Jack grabbed your hand, dragging you toward the couch. “Nope, nope, game night first. You’ve missed too many already!”

Luke plopped down on your other side, still holding onto your arm like a security blanket. “You’re not moving from this spot, Y/N.”

Quinn shook his head but didn’t argue as he sat across from you, smiling softly. “It really is good to have you home.”

Your mom brought over snacks, still occasionally wiping her eyes. Your dad gave your shoulder a squeeze before settling in next to your mom. Your best friend, having successfully recorded every teary-eyed reaction, put her phone down with a satisfied grin and leaned against you.

And as you sat there, sandwiched between your brothers, hearing their laughter, feeling their warmth, you realized this—this was home.

Jack suddenly squeezed your hand. “Promise you won’t leave for that long again?”

You squeezed back, looking around at your family, at the pure love radiating from each of them.

“I promise.”

And for the first time in a long time, your heart felt completely full.

[manwritingtales]

Jock Roommate

Note: Some pictures were too spicy for Tumblr (this post got flagged!) so I've linked to them instead

---

You know, I was happy when I first saw my roommate. Fit, handsome, and just excruciatingly sexy. You just know he had an easy life using his looks. He'd walk down the street and men and women would stop to turn and stare at him. He was that gorgeous. Too bad he was also a complete slob. He only cares about getting fit, playing sports, and getting laid. The stereotypical jock. Several shirts thrown here and there around were fine; and I honestly didn't care—I even took a sniff or two here and there, but I didn't expect him to be such a big fucking slob.

After a month of living with him, discarded bottles were all around, energy drinks, pizza boxes, and all sorts of garbage that I couldn't even decipher. It made me mad—not just by how dirty he was, but with how he could manage to eat like a pig and still look like that. Even if he didn't shower for days, instead of getting just stinky, he exuded this strong scent that I couldn't help but secretly enjoy. It was unfair seeing how much of a pig he was and still looking like that. Every other day, he'd be dragging some chick to bang all night, and the day after, I kept telling him to quiet it down, and he'd just roll his eyes and tell me to "lighten up." It was relentless. Every day, he'd be bringing a chick, sometimes two, and they'd go at it all night. The guy was a horndog. Muscles, chicks, sports, sex. That's all he cared about.

I don't know if he knew I was gay. Maybe he did. Sometimes, he'd be back from the gym, throwing his wet shirt along the pile of laundry on the floor, he'd grin at me and tell me to clean up the place. He'd take a long shower, while I stared at the soaked shirt. I would take it, feeling the warmth and moist of it, and plunge it deep in my nose. God, he reeked. It was a smell enough to drive a man wild. I wanted it closer to me, I wanted it in me.

When I heard the shower turn off, I immediately threw it away and started cleaning up. He'd stand there, looking fresh with clean skin and black hair, letting the water hit his chiseled abs, and he'd smirk at me and leave without saying a word. It went on for months until I hit my breaking point.

It was semi-finals. I was working on several projects and I got an exam the next day. Phillip—God, even his name sounded sexy on him—brought another girl home and started making out on the sofa. I heard the girl giggling in delight as they moaned. I peeked my head out and saw Phillip kissing the girl's neck. I grew angry. "Do you mind taking it in the bedroom? I got an exam tomorrow. Don't you have class too, Phillip?"

He looked at me in annoyance. "Mind your own business," he said. He turned to her. "Don't mind him. The fag's just jealous he's not you." They both laughed and started making out again.

That was it. It was too much. The pressure from college, Phillip calling me a fag, and the deep-seated feeling that he was right—I was jealous I wasn't making out with him. Things had to change.

What I didn't mention before was that I'm studying chemical engineering. The only reason I got into this prestigious university was that I was a stellar student. I was always combining compounds even before high school, and I knew I could work on something if I work hard on it enough.

I didn't sleep for three months. I dedicated day and night trying to find the perfect compound to use on Phillip. I may have barely passed my exams, earned a warning from my professors for being late or absent, but I was dead set. I used the university lab to make my own concoction, further improving upon it during the night. I barely survived the semester and I still spent the entire break perfecting my concoction.

Time passed like a blur, but I remembered every painstaking detail. Every late night of brainstorming. I didn't care. I was angry at him. I was angry at him for being such a slob, for being a jerk to everyone, and I was angry at myself for being attracted to him. In the end, I finally released the breath I'd been holding for months. I had done it. I'd found the perfect combination.

A new semester arrived. Phillip talked to me in the living room. God, I hated how my stomach felt when he was with me. He just exuded this potent musk, and the way he looks at you is enough to make your knees fall.

"Dude. You gonna pick up around here or what?" he said, glancing at the dirty apartment. I didn't point out that he made that mess. "You know I got more important stuff to do than handle all this. And it's not easy taking care of this bod, you know?" His muscles bulged as he spoke. I stared straight at his eyes. "Try not to be completely useless, for once."

This time, I didn't get mad. I smiled at him and said, "Okay."

He looked at me strangely. I didn't care. For once in my life, I didn't feel helpless against him, helpless against my attraction for him. I had the solution.

Just as scheduled, he went to the gym first thing in the morning. When he came back, he fixed himself a drink and got on the shower. Listening carefully to the running water, I let the liquid fall into his drink. I felt calm. I was so nervous thinking about it, but doing it felt so easy. I ate breakfast as I watched him drain the drink in a single gulp.

I saw him groan and enter his room. I sat on the couch, looking at the clock as minutes passed by. Finally, he opened the door, shuffling slowly to the living room, a confused look on his face.

"I… I don't feel so good…" he mumbled, collapsing to the floor.

I looked at his unconscious body. He even got a nice bubble butt. Too bad it was wasted on a straight dude. I got the vial from my room and swallowed it down. This shouldn't take too long, but for now, I looked at his body.

I turned him around. God, he's handsome. In spite of the horndog jerk, he was so pretty to look at. I let my hand roam over his skin, then gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. He smelled clean and fresh, his skin cool. I inhaled deeply, burying my face on his neck. His potent scent filled me. I could feel my dick become harder. I looked at his face, letting my fingers trace over his abs, and I kissed his lips. I let my tongue inside him, savoring his warmth, enjoying his saliva. I lifted his arms and smelled his pits. Still fresh from his shower, I gave it a lick. A shiver ran down my spine. God, I wanted more. I needed more of him.

I felt a tingle in my chest. The vial was kicking in. I shucked off my clothes and let my naked body fall on him. I could feel his chest, his dick, and his arms. I felt my brain cloud. An odd sensation lingered on my feet. looked down and gasped as I saw my foot slowly merging into his body. This was it. It was happening. I kissed his chest, my hands moving over him as I felt more of my body sinking into him. I could feel his soft breath against me, and it drove me wild.

I felt my chest fall inside him, my arms fading into him, and then the darkness consumed me as my consciousness slipped away.

I blinked. I was looking at the ceiling. A sharp pain throbbed in my head, and I clutched it in pain. Everything felt weird. My eyesight was hazy. I blinked rapidly until it cleared.

"What the fuck…"

Phillip's voice came out. I gasped and touched my throat. I felt stubble on my cheek. Looking down at my legs, I noticed how much stronger and more defined they were.

"Holy shit," I said, the words coming out in Phillip's voice. I touched my abs, feeling how firm they are. I looked down at my arms. Holy shit. They were toned as hell. I stood up and gasped at my new weight—my new height. I stumbled into the bathroom and looked in a mirror. Phillip's handsome face stared back. He looked confused, and I raised my arms and saw Phillip in the reflection do the same. I reached out and touched my cheek.

"It… It really worked…" I felt his tongue, somehow the feeling of enunciating words and syllables felt different. I flexed his arms and saw Phillip in the reflection doing the same. "It fucking worked!"

I watched as Phillip's face lighten up, grinning, as I felt my new body. "God, Phillip. You were always so fucking hot."

Hearing Phillip talk this way was enough to make me hard. I looked at every inch of his chest, at every part of his arm, and I could no longer ignore the hardening length below me. I shoved his boxers down. Good God. Phillip was packing serious heat. The thing was seven inches long, and it was only half hard. "Damn, Phillip," I muttered, "no wonder you got a chick every night."

Just the mere fact that I'm looking at Phillip and listening to his voice was enough to make me hard. I let out a heavy breath as I watched his cock get harder, arching to a full ten inches. I gave it a tug and left out a groan. Phillip's voice was manly and needy.

"You're so hot, Phillip," I said, gasping as I took his dick in his hands. I closed my eyes and let the sensation overtake me. I was him. I'd finally done it. I gave my brand new dick a squeeze and I groaned, as loud as I can. I felt my knees buckle, warmth coursing through my body and directly to my dick. I opened my eyes and stared at my reflection, seeing Phillip with his mouth open, hand on his long, hard dick, groaning. I spit on his dick, the saliva mixing with his pre-cum. I grinned at his reflection, trying to emulate the original Phillip as much as I can. I flexed his arms, wiggling his eyebrows as I stuck his tongue out. Jesus Christ he was sexy.

I turned and looked at Phillip's hairy bubble butt in the mirror. He was perfect. I stroked his cock, feeling the overwhelming heat radiating from it. It was veiny and wet, pulsating in my hand. I stroked it faster while flexing his arms, sniffing his armpits and feeling his knees buckle from the sensation. I started stroking harder and harder. "Fuck, Phillip!" I groaned, the words coming out in his voice, sounding so damn sexy. I stroked harder, feeling his body get slick with sweat. "Ohhhh fuck yeah!" I groaned harder, letting his voice fill the room. I inhaled deeply, taking in his smell, sniffing his armpits as hard as I could. His scent was powerful. It'd never been this overwhelming. It was in me. This strong, musky scent was everywhere.

I stroked harder and harder. I looked at Phillip in the mirror, seeing his body jerk off, his hands slick with saliva as his mouth drooled. I felt my knees buckle and I let out a loud groan, massive amounts of cum spurting from his dick, splattering against the mirror. I let the sensation wash over me, the warmth still so overwhelming. I breathed in and out, my chest rising and falling.

I looked at his reflection again, then at my hand. It was slick with his cum. I stared at his reflection and watched Phillip lick his own cum from his hands.

---

I plopped down on his bed. Even his bed smelled like him. His room was a mess—clothes thrown everywhere, bottles, papers—but I didn't care. I stared at the ceiling, watching Phillip's chest rising and falling. I looked over his body, the birthmark, the veins, and all the little things I'd only began to notice now that I was in him.

"God, Phillip, why did you have to be such a dick?" I whispered in his voice. I breathed in and out, still not sure if this is real or a dream. I heard a notification from his phone, and grinned as it opened using facial recognition. It was a message from a random chick, asking when they were going to meet up.

"Well, that's not gonna happen," I whispered. "I'm gay as fuck."

Hearing Phillip say those words made me snort, a laugh escaping my lips. I tossed the phone aside and let myself enjoy the warmth of his bed. He feels so tight, so manly, and so good. I looked down at his dick, which was already getting hard again. A wave of intense horniness washed over me, then dove straight to my hardening cock. "Jesus, Phillip. Now I get why you're such a fucking horndog."

[iamgonnagetyouback]

finally got the time to read this and omg amora!! how did you make my heart break but heal at the same time ♡

Mattheo had seen Theo at his lowest before. After brutal duels, after fights with his father, after sleepless nights filled with too much firewhisky and not enough self-preservation. But this? This was different.

no because why did this line alone kick me straight in the chest??? i can’t breathe.

Theo was sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it had the answers to all of his problems.

i love the scenery you set here

Mattheo leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Mate." No response. "You look like shit." Still nothing.

i laughed and cried at the same time. mattheo is so done and i love him for it

Theo let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Pathetic. Yeah. That sounds about right."

sir. sir please. my heart can’t take this level of self-loathing. i need to lie down.

"I don’t know who I am without you," he admitted, voice raw.

i need a moment. i need several moments.

"You were the one who broke us, Theo. You made that choice." "I know." His voice cracked. "And I hate myself for it. Every second of every day, I regret it."

if you wanted me to feel like i got punched in the soul, congrats amora, you succeeded.

I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t even know if I can. But if I have to spend the rest of my life proving to you that what we had—what we have—is real, then I will. Even if it’s too late.

stoppppp i’m screaming into my pillow.

and then those letters?!?!??!?

"If you told me to wait for you, I would. I would wait for days, for months, for years—as long as it took for you to believe that I never meant those words."

someone check on me because i am not okay.

i can’t even form coherent thoughts anymore, just violently kicking my feet and clutching my chest.

i will be thinking about this at completely random times during the day and losing my mind over it.

amora, just know that i am sending you a virtual standing ovation. you’ve ruined me. congratulations.

ps. i could go on and on about this but i'm not gonna instead i am coming in your dms and ranting to you about it...

rewritten

theodore nott x reader

summary: part 3, can Theo fix things between you two? after so much heartbreak can you give him a second chance?

a/n:im sorry this took so long, I got hit with writers block and discouragement, hope you guys like it!!

Navigation; masterlist; request rules; part 1; part 2

Mattheo had seen Theo at his lowest before. After brutal duels, after fights with his father, after sleepless nights filled with too much firewhisky and not enough self-preservation. But this? This was different.

This wasn’t anger. Wasn’t recklessness.

This was nothingness.

Theo was sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it had the answers to all of his problems. His dorm was a disaster—papers scattered, books left open, untouched meals sitting cold on his desk. The only movement in the room came from the slow rise and fall of his chest.

Mattheo leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed."Mate."

No response.

"You look like shit."

Still nothing.

Mattheo sighed, running a hand through his hair before stepping further into the room. "Alright, fine. You wanna sit here and wallow, go ahead. But you do know this isn’t sustainable, right?"

Theo didn’t even blink.

"Skipping class, not eating, shutting everyone out—what’s the end goal here?"

Silence.

Mattheo clenched his jaw, patience wearing thin. He walked over and grabbed a book off Theo’s desk before chucking it at him. It hit his shoulder, but Theo barely reacted.

That pissed Mattheo off.

"Are you fucking serious right now?" he snapped. "What, you’re just gonna waste away in here? That’s your big plan?"

Finally, Theo shifted. Slowly, he looked up, his face pale and hollow. His voice, when he spoke, was rough. "What do you want me to do, Mattheo?"

"Oh, I don’t know—anything but this?" Mattheo gestured around the room. "You’ve made some stupid decisions before, but this? This is pathetic, even for you."

Theo let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Pathetic. Yeah. That sounds about right."

Mattheo exhaled sharply, dragging a chair closer and sitting across from him. "Listen, I get it. You fucked up. Big time. But wasting away in here isn’t gonna change that. You want her back? Fight for her. You want to move on? Then do it. But don’t just sit here acting like your life is over because she walked away."

Theo’s eyes darkened. "It is over."

Mattheo froze.

It wasn’t the words that shook him—it was the way Theo meant them.

"You don’t get it," Theo muttered, voice raw. "She wasn’t just some girl, Mattheo. She was everything. And I ruined it. I ruined her." His fingers dug into his knees, knuckles white. "So tell me, what exactly am I supposed to do now?"

For the first time, Mattheo didn’t have a quick response. Because fuck—he didn’t know.

He had never seen Theo like this before.

But he did know one thing.

"You need to talk to her," he said finally.

Theo scoffed, shaking his head. "She won’t listen."

Mattheo leaned forward. "Not if you keep sulking like a bloody ghost. But if you really love her? Then you have to at least try."

Theo swallowed hard, his walls cracking just a bit.

Mattheo sighed, standing up. "Look, I can’t force you to get your shit together. But I can ask for help." He glanced toward the door. "If you won’t go to her, maybe she’ll come to you."

Theo’s head snapped up. "Mattheo—"

"Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle," Mattheo said with a smirk, but there was no humor behind it. "Just sit tight, yeah?"

And with that, he walked out, leaving Theo alone with his demons.

The days after your fight with Theodore Nott were oddly quiet. Not because the world had stopped moving, but because a part of you had. No matter how much you tried to push forward, his words still echoed in your head.

“it was just a bet!”

Now, you were sitting in the Great Hall, trying to focus on your breakfast when a presence loomed over you.

"Can we talk?"

You glanced up and met Mattheo Riddle’s gaze. His usual smirk was absent, his dark eyes serious. That alone sent a chill down your spine. Mattheo never looked serious.

You hesitated. "Depends. What about?"

He exhaled sharply and took a seat across from you without invitation. "It’s Theo."

Your stomach twisted, but you masked it with indifference. "Not my problem."

Mattheo scoffed. "Yeah, well, that’s the thing. He’s not exactly making himself anyone’s problem anymore. He’s barely eating, hasn’t been to class in days, and I haven’t seen him leave his room since—" He stopped himself, but you knew what he was about to say.

Since you left him on his knees in the library.

You forced yourself to take a bite of toast, despite suddenly losing your appetite. "And what do you expect me to do about it?"

"You don’t have to do anything. But maybe… just talk to him?"

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. "You do remember that he completely shattered my trust, right? That I was just some game to him?"

Mattheo ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I know, okay? I know he screwed up. And if you never want to see him again, I get it. But…" His voice lowered. "I don’t think he’s okay. I don’t think he will be if someone doesn’t pull him out of whatever the hell he’s drowning in."

That made your chest tighten. No matter how much Theo had hurt you, you couldn’t pretend you didn’t care. But did you care enough to reopen old wounds? To look at the person who betrayed you and risk getting hurt all over again?

Mattheo must have seen your hesitation because he leaned forward, his voice softer now. "I wouldn’t be here begging if I thought he could fix this himself. But he can’t. And like it or not, you’re the only one who can get through to him."

You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the table.

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea.

But deep down, you already knew what you were going to do.

You stood in front of his dormitory door, your hand hovering over the doorknob, the air thick with uncertainty. You’d come here, but now that you were standing here, the doubt crept back in. Was this the right choice? Could you really face him? Could you even talk to him without everything you felt rushing back—without everything he did rushing back?

You knocked softly, but there was no response. The quiet only made the pressure in your chest grow. Hesitant, you slowly turned the knob, and to your surprise, the door creaked open.

The room was dim, only a few rays of light slipping through the curtains. And there, in the middle of the room, was Theodore Nott. He was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling with an unreadable expression. His body was curled into itself, as if he were trying to shrink away from the world.

A pang of guilt surged through you. You wanted to turn away, to run, but you couldn’t.

Your feet moved before you could stop them, one step at a time, until you were standing beside his bed. You swallowed hard, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions inside you. "Theo?"

His head snapped toward the sound of your voice, his eyes wide with shock. His expression froze as he stared at you—like he was afraid, as if seeing you might be some cruel trick. His eyes, so full of confusion and fear, shimmered with unshed tears.

"Y/N?… You came?" His voice was barely a whisper, like he didn’t believe you were really there.

A wave of emotion washed over you, but you pushed it down, trying to keep your voice steady. "Mattheo said you weren’t doing well.”

Theo didn’t say anything. He just stared at you, as if your words hadn’t even fully registered yet. His eyes searched your face, every line of his body tense, too afraid to even move, like any sudden movement would make you disappear. You could see how broken he looked, how much he wanted to believe this wasn’t just some dream.

He opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself, as if trying to find the right words, or maybe wondering if words even mattered anymore.

You glanced past him into the room. It was a mess—books scattered, clothes thrown carelessly, a tray of untouched food on the desk. It smelled like stale air and something heartbreakingly lonely.

You hesitated before speaking. "This isn’t you, Theo."

"I don’t know who I am without you," he admitted, voice raw.

You turned to him sharply, something inside you cracking at the sheer honesty in his voice. "Theo…"

"No, let me say this."He exhaled shakily, running a trembling hand through his hair. "I know I don’t deserve to ask for anything from you. I don’t deserve to stand here and beg, but—" He cut himself off, pressing his lips together like he was trying to hold himself together.

And then, quietly, "I don’t know how to exist without you."

Your breath hitched. "You were the one who broke us, Theo. You made that choice."

"I know." His voice cracked. "And I hate myself for it. Every second of every day, I regret it. The bet, the lies, all of it—it was the biggest mistake of my life."

You swallowed, arms tightening around yourself. "Then why did you do it?"

"Because I was a coward." He let out a bitter laugh. "Because I had you—this brilliant, beautiful, impossible thing—and I was terrified that you were too good to be real. That I would love you and you would leave, so I ruined it before you could."

His confession left you breathless.

You had spent so long believing you were never enough for him. That you had been nothing but a game. But hearing this—hearing that he had been just as scared as you had—made your chest ache.

"I never wanted to hurt you," Theo whispered. "But I did. And I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I need you to know that I loved you. That I still do."

You blinked, eyes burning. "Theo…"

"I would move mountains just to be with you again," he continued, voice shaking. "Even if it takes years. Even if you never look at me the same way again. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that you were never just a bet to me."

Tears slipped down your cheeks, unbidden, and Theo’s breath stuttered like the sight of your pain was physically hurting him.

He reached out instinctively but stopped himself, his hands hovering inches from yours. "Tell me there’s still a chance." His voice was barely a whisper. "Even if it’s not today. Even if it’s not soon. Just tell me I haven’t lost you forever."

You stood there, heart hammering, torn between the pain of the past and the boy in front of you—broken, vulnerable, real.

This was the moment.

The moment where you could walk away, close the door, leave him to his regret.

Or you could stay.

You took a breath.

And then, finally, you spoke.

The first few days after you left his dorm were the hardest.

Theo had promised you he’d fix himself, that he’d become better—not for you, but for himself first. But promises were just words, and words had never been enough. Not when he had already shattered your trust once.

So, for the first time in weeks, he forced himself out of bed.

It wasn’t easy. The weight of his mistakes clung to him like a sickness, making even the smallest things feel impossible. Eating felt pointless. Attending class felt meaningless. But he did it anyway. One step at a time.

At breakfast, Mattheo raised an eyebrow when Theo sat down at their usual table, his plate only half-full.

"Didn’t think I’d see you out of that damn room anytime soon," Mattheo muttered, nudging his shoulder.

Theo didn’t respond right away, just picked at his food before finally saying, "I need to fix things."

Mattheo huffed out a short laugh, though there was no malice behind it. "Yeah? And how do you plan on doing that?"

Theo didn’t have an answer yet. But he knew one thing—he couldn’t keep being this version of himself. The one who wallowed in his grief, who drowned in guilt without trying to swim to the surface.

So, he changed.

He stopped avoiding the world. Stopped shutting people out.

He went to class, even when his mind screamed at him to go back to bed. He studied harder than he ever had before, pouring himself into books instead of his own self-loathing. When his friends spoke to him, he actually listened instead of shutting them out.

He even picked up his journal again, spilling his thoughts onto paper in a desperate attempt to make sense of the chaos inside his head. He wrote letters—ones meant for you, ones that would never be sent. Some were apologies, some were confessions, but all of them were real.

But it wasn’t about getting you back.

It was about becoming someone who deserved you.

Someone you could trust again.

Weeks passed before he saw you again.

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t fate. It was just life forcing their paths to cross like it always did.

You were sitting by the Black Lake, your nose buried in a book, completely lost in the words. He should’ve walked away. Should’ve kept his distance. But his feet betrayed him, halting a few steps away from you.

You must’ve felt his presence because you looked up, your eyes meeting his.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Theo braced himself for the worst—coldness, anger, maybe even indifference. But instead, you studied him, like if you were trying to figure out if the person standing before you was the same one who had broken your heart.

"You look… different," you said softly.

Theo swallowed. "I had to be."

your gaze didn’t waver. "Why?"

"Because the person I was before didn’t deserve you."

Something flickered in your expression, but you didn’t look away. You just nodded, your grip tightening around the book on your lap.

Not forgiveness. Not yet.

But something.

Weeks turned into months. Theo didn’t push, didn’t force his way back into your life. He just showed up.

Not in the obvious ways. He didn’t beg or plead. Didn’t bombard her with apologies. Instead, he proved himself in the quiet moments.

He helped first-years struggling with their potions when no one was watching. He started paying attention in class, excelling in subjects he used to neglect. He let people rely on him, let himself become someone trustworthy—not just to you, but to everyone around him.

And then, when the time was right, he left something for you.

A book.

Your favorite one, sitting on the library table where you used to study together. But inside, tucked between the pages, were letters.

Dozens of them. Some dated weeks ago, some written only days before.

You hesitated before picking it up, flipping through the pages. And then you saw the first note.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Entry One

Date: The Night You Left

I haven’t stopped thinking about the look in your eyes. The way you froze. The way your breath caught like I had knocked the air out of you.

I keep telling myself that if I had just shut up, if I had just walked away instead of letting my anger win, you’d still be here. But I didn’t. I let the worst version of myself take control, and now I have to live with the fact that the last thing you heard from me was a lie.

Because that’s what it was. A lie.

You were never a bet.

Not for a single second.

You were the first thing in my life that ever felt real. The first person who looked at me like I was worth something. The first person I ever truly, fully loved. And I threw that away. I let my pride, my temper, my own self-destruction take over, and I broke the one thing I never wanted to lose.

I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t even know if I can. But if I have to spend the rest of my life proving to you that what we had—what we have—is real, then I will.

Even if it’s too late.

—Theo

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Entry 2

Date: One Week Without You

I see you everywhere.

In the empty chair across from me in the library. In the spaces between my fingers where yours used to fit. In the quiet moments where your voice used to live.

And I wonder—do you miss me at all? Do you hear my name in whispers? Do you reach for me in your sleep? Or am I just a scar you’re waiting to fade?

If you told me to wait for you, I would. I would wait for days, for months, for years—as long as it took for you to believe that I never meant those words. That you were never a game to me. That you were the only thing that ever made sense in my life.

But you haven’t told me anything.

So I wait anyway.

Because I can’t imagine a world where I ever stop hoping for you.

—Theo

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Entry 3

Date: Two Weeks Without You

I should’ve told you how beautiful you looked in the mornings, when your hair was a mess and your voice was still laced with sleep.

I should’ve told you how your laugh could pull me out of my worst days, how it became the sound I searched for in crowded rooms.

I should’ve told you that loving you scared me. That it made me feel like I had something to lose for the first time in my life.

I should’ve told you that the night we had our first kiss, I went back to my dorm, sat on my bed, and smiled—just sat there, grinning like an idiot, because I knew, in that moment, that I was done for. That you had ruined me for anyone else.

I should’ve told you that I loved you more than I loved myself.

Maybe if I had, you’d still be here.

-theo

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Entry 4

Date: three Weeks Without You

You probably don’t know that I still sit in the library, right where you left me. Not every night. Just the ones where I can’t breathe.

You probably don’t know that I reread our old notes, the ones we used to pass back and forth in class. I keep them in my bag like they’re sacred, like they’re proof that once, you laughed with me. That once, I wasn’t just a mistake to you.

You probably don’t know that every time I hear your name, my hands shake.

That I’ve started keeping a list of all the things I should’ve done differently.

That I miss you in a way that feels like it might kill me.

But the worst part?

You probably don’t care anymore.

And I deserve that.

—Theo

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Entry 5

Date: The Day You Knocked on My Door

I thought I was dreaming.

I heard the knock, but I didn’t move. I figured it was Mattheo, coming to drag me out of this room again, to remind me that I’m still supposed to be alive, even when I feel like I’m not.

But then I heard your voice.

And suddenly, I was alive.

I was shocked to see you. Not because I didn’t want to see you—I ached to see you—but because I was afraid. Afraid that I had imagined it. Afraid that you were here just to tell me, to my face, that you were done for good.

But you weren’t.

You were there.

Standing in my doorway, looking at me like you didn’t recognize me anymore. Maybe you don’t. Maybe I really am just a shell of the person you once loved.

You didn’t say anything at first. And I didn’t either. I was too busy memorizing the way your hands twitched at your sides, the way your lips parted slightly like you wanted to speak but didn’t know where to start.

And then, finally—"Mattheo said I should talk to you."

Your voice was quieter than I remembered. Or maybe I had just forgotten what it was like to hear it so close.

I wanted to tell you everything. I wanted to fall to my knees again and beg, to tell you that I haven’t slept, that I haven’t breathed right since you walked away, that I would do anything to rewrite the past.

But instead, I just nodded.

Because I knew this wasn’t my moment to fall apart. This was your moment to decide if I was worth saving.

So I stood there.

Waiting.

Hoping.

Daring to believe that maybe—just maybe—you hadn’t given up on me yet.

—Theo

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Entry 6

Date: One Month Without You

I don’t just want your forgiveness.

I want your trust. Your laughter. Your sleepy morning voice. The way you roll your eyes at me but secretly smile when you think I’m not looking. The way you say my name like it’s something safe.

I want you.

And I know I have no right to ask for that.

But if there is even the smallest chance—if there is even the tiniest sliver of hope that you still look at me and see something worth saving—then I will not waste it.

I will prove it to you. With every breath, with every action, with every single moment I have left in this life.

Because I love you.

And I will spend a lifetime making it right.

—Theo

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

At first, your hands tremble. The pages feel heavier than they should, like they’re carrying all the weight of the past, of everything left unsaid, of him.

You tell yourself you’ll just read one. Just a glimpse. Just to know if he even cares.

But then one turns into two. Then three. Then all of them.

And suddenly, you can’t breathe.

Because this isn’t just guilt. This isn’t just some empty apology, some desperate attempt to win you back with words. This is raw. This is pain. This is love.

This is a boy breaking himself open, spilling every ugly, unspoken truth onto paper because he doesn’t know how else to reach you.

And God, you feel it.

You feel it in the way his handwriting shakes in some letters but steadies in others, like he’s fighting himself, like he’s trying to hold on and let go at the same time.

You feel it in the confessions he never said out loud—the ones about how he saw you in everything, how he would’ve moved mountains to take it all back, how he doesn’t just want you to forgive him, he wants you to trust him.

And when you read the last letter—the one about how he would spend a lifetime making it right—you realize something.

He never stopped fighting for you.

Not once.

Not even when he thought he had already lost.

And then, with your chest so tight it almost hurts, you look up.

He’s already watching you.

Theo looks like he’s barely breathing, like the moment is too fragile, like if he moves too fast, you might disappear. There’s something in his eyes you haven’t seen in a long time—something that almost makes your throat close up.

Hope.

He doesn’t say anything. He’s waiting. Letting you decide what happens next.

And for the first time in a long time, you realize…

He means it.

Every word. Every promise.

The silence between you stretches, thick with everything unsaid. The letters are still clutched in your hands, his words lingering in your chest, pressing against the pieces of your heart that you swore were too broken to be put back together.

Theo swallows hard. His hands twitch at his sides, like he wants to reach for you but doesn’t dare. "Say something," he finally murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please."

You inhale sharply, steadying yourself. "Do you really mean it?"

He doesn’t hesitate. "Every word."

"And you’re not just saying all of this because you miss me? Because you feel guilty?" Your voice is careful, guarded—because this has to be real. If you give him your heart again, there’s no surviving if he shatters it a second time.

Theo steps closer. Not too close, but enough that you can see the raw desperation in his eyes. "I’m saying this because losing you was the worst thing that has ever happened to me. Because I was an idiot, and I hurt you, and I will never forgive myself for that." He pauses, his breath shaky. "But more than anything, I’m saying it because I love you. I never stopped. And I never will.*"

Your heart clenches painfully. "Theo…"

"You don’t have to say it back," he cuts in quickly. "You don’t have to promise me anything. Just—" He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words. "Just tell me there’s a chance. Tell me I haven’t lost you forever."

You look at him then, really look at him. He’s not the same person he was that night in the library. He’s not the boy who let pride and recklessness ruin the best thing in his life. He’s different. He’s trying.

And that’s when you know.

You step forward, closing the distance between you. His breath catches as your hand brushes against his—light, hesitant, but enough to make his whole body go still.

"I’m still angry," you admit softly. "I’m still hurt."

Theo nods, his jaw tightening. "I know."

"But…" You take a breath, steadying yourself. "I believe you."

His eyes widen slightly, like he wasn’t expecting those words. "You—"

"I believe that you mean it," you clarify. "And if you’re really going to prove it—if you’re really going to fight for this—"

You pause, feeling the weight of this moment. Then, finally, you say the words that make his breath shudder.

"Then I’m willing to try."

For a second, Theo doesn’t move. He just stares at you, like he’s afraid he imagined it. But then—

"You won’t regret it," he swears, his voice cracking slightly. "I swear on everything, I won’t waste this chance."

And when he finally, finally takes your hand—holding it like it’s the most precious thing in the world— you let him.

ᥫ᭡reblog's & comment's are appreciatedᥫ᭡

©lov3notts ,do not copy, translate or claim any of my writing or works as your own.

tag list: @simp-for-fantasy @nottinmyheart

[httpuckdrop]

ashes – day 144 (1)

author's note: uhhh i wrote and posted this before the actual game... so this is winner!jack, i also have another version posted here..... sorry and bye

you knew jack was a good hockey player. you knew he was capable of doing great things; you knew he could win any game he wanted to if he played as well as he could.

and yet, you were surprised to get the call from him inviting you to come watch him play the final game of the four nations tournament.

not that you were surprised he was in the finals, per se. you knew most of the hockey experts, and jack himself, had called the us team as the favorites for the tournament. but you and jack hadn't even discussed beforehand if you wanted to, or could, come watch him play.

i need you there, he had whispered into your phone after his win against sweden on monday. knowing you're in the stands cheering for me always makes me feel much better.

so, thursday morning, you got on the plane to boston. you were only able to see jack for a few moments after his morning skate – just enough time to hug and kiss his cheek and wish him luck – before he had to leave for media duties and whatnot before the finals. the time off gave you time to check into your hotel and get ready for the long night ahead.

and possibly try to calm your nerves a little, too.

not only were you nervous about the game itself, but mostly everything going on around it. jack had made sure that your name was written on some list to a special box in the arena for the players' families, and just the thought of interacting with so many new people left you a little nauseous. you'd just gotten used to being around the wives and girlfriends of the devils, but jack had no teammates with him in the national team.

it didn't help that your first interaction with anyone in the box was colliding with a woman about a minute after walking inside.

"i'm so sorry-" you said instantly, even though it was mostly her own fault for walking backwards without looking where she was going.

"no worries, dear!" she exclaimed, lifting her glass of champagne to her lips as she gazed over you. "well, aren't you just a doll! so sweet i think i could eat you up." she sent you a wink. "i see why jack would fall for you."

this caught your attention. "oh, you know jack?" you asked, eyebrows raising slightly. how did she know you were here with him?

"of course! we used to date. almost a year, but who counts, right?" the laugh she lets out felt strangely forced, yet you accepted the hand that she held out to you. "i'm stacy, i'm sure he's told you about me."

not once, actually. was it because she didn't mean much to him, or because he was hiding something? if they were together for that long, surely it had to mean something to him?

just like she hadn't left you room to introduce yourself earlier, she now started talking again before you could answer her question. "how are you enjoying being with jack, dear? it must be exhausting being with someone so obsessive!"

obsessive?

"he used to be glued to my side, he wanted me with him everywhere," she said, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "he used to call me the day before his games, all 'i need you to come to seattle tomorrow and watch me play'. so cute but so…" she paused to search her brain for a specific word. "tiring."

if you had to use a thousand words to describe your relationship with jack, not one would even be something close to the word tiring.

"and, obviously, the sex was explosive. but i'm sure i don't need to tell you that, darling," she laughed, adding a little wink in there for good measure.

when jack called you this morning, you never could've guessed that you'd be standing here discussing your sex life with his ex girlfriend.

there was something so… uncanny about her. you found yourself wondering how in the world jack could have gone out with someone so shallow and flaky – and why he was so different with you than her? was it because of him, or because of you?

the only good thing about this new "friend" of yours (one you hoped you never had to see again after today) was the fact that she had no issues dragging you around with her and showing you around. when the game finally started, she helped you find where to sit and watch; and during the breaks, she brought you with her to get drinks and snacks to refill your energy.

when the game finally ended, after longer than the other games you'd attended, you stood up in the box to watch jack and his teammates receive their gold medals. you had assumed you'd just get to see him later, when he was done celebrating with his team – but yet again, stacy had grabbed your wrist and dragged you along with her down to the ice, despite your initial refusal.

you and stacy were far from the only people who had made their way down to the ice to celebrate with their loved ones. stacy ran off to find her boyfriend, brody or brady or brock or zach, and left you all alone by the door leading out to the ice. you couldn't see jack anywhere between the pile of crying wives and excited children – maybe this was a bad idea? maybe he'd already left the ice and returned to his changing room, since you hadn't made any plans to meet here? maybe he was chatting to someone he found more interesting than you? maybe he was hoping you wouldn't be there?

just as you were about to turn around and hurry away before anyone noticed you, a familiar voice called your name, and it was like everything else quieted down; the whole world around you disappeared, and the only important thing to ever exist was now skating towards you.

"hello, champion," you said when he stood before you, unable to stop a smile from breaking free on your face.

he offered you a hand, helping you step onto the ice with him, and then he pulled you into his arms and swept you off your feet. your arms draped around his neck, sweet laughter slipping from your lips as he spun around in a circle. "i didn't know you'd come down here!" he exclaimed, giving you one final squeeze before setting you back on the ice.

"i wanted to surprise you." your hands slid down to rest atop his shoulder guards as you took him in. the massive grin on his lips, his cheeks still flushed from the game, the tips of his curls sticking out from under his winner's cap – and the gold medal around his neck.

there has never been a more perfect sight, you decided.

"was that stacy you came down with?" jack's hands found your waist, his eyebrows raised as he looked down at you. you had almost been worried that he would be upset or mad about you meeting her – as if he had something to hide, perhaps – but he was still smiling. probably the high of the win still present in him.

"we can talk about that later," you told him. "now, i want to talk about how good you were. and how good you look in your gold medal."

"no need to boost my ego," he said, swatting a dismissive hand in the air.

"i'll boost your ego as much as i want to!"

he tugged you a little closer, your hips brushing up against his. "you'll come celebrate with me tonight, though, right?"

you silently studied his expression for a while – for someone so sure of himself, someone who had just won a tournament this big, he looked almost scared that you'd say no.

like you'd ever find it in yourself to say no to his pretty, brown eyes.

"of course. there's nothing i'd rather do."