#how to check your internet speed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

violetrainbow412-blog · 10 months

Text

Emergency room [S. R] +18

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 12k

Summary: Spencer forgot to mention that you're still his emergency contact. You wouldn't have had a problem with it if you weren't his ex of over a year and the hospital took you out of the bed because he had a car crash

contents: exes to lovers, car accident, hospitals, mention of injuries (nothing graphic), mutual longing, SMUT, porn with plot, a little sub!spencer if you squint, penetrative sex (p in v), vanilla sex

Maybe there is a mistake with the grammar and pronouns, I swear I checked it the best I could but surely something escaped me! Enjoy :)

The ringing of your cell phone snapped you out of your hard-won reverie a few hours ago, and you sighed audibly into your pillow before opening your eyes. The device was somewhere on the nightstand, so it was enough to reach out and feel the wood a little to take it.

Virginia Hospital Center.

You hoped the caller ID was wrong, which was highly unlikely, and you swiped to take the call, wondering what it could be.

“Virginia Hospital Center, may I speak to Ms. Y/N Y/L/N?” With a shaky voice you answered in the affirmative and then the woman continued: "I am calling because you are the emergency contact on file for Mr. Spencer Walter Reid, who has just been admitted to the emergency room”

Hearing this, you jumped out of bed like a spring and felt how a chill ran through your entire body, a sign of the obvious panic that had just invaded you.

"What happened? He's fine?"

“He suffered a car accident and now he is being transferred to the operating room. It is imperative that you show up at the hospital so that you can account for any complications and can help us complete the information in his medical history."

The woman behind the phone was barely finishing saying that when you were already looking for your car keys and a decent change of clothes. You only took what you had in your bag before getting in your car and starting the engine to start the march, even with the adrenaline that you had coursing through your system. The hospital was a bit far away, so every time you accelerated too much you had to remind yourself that you could have an accident too, and then that would be the last straw. With that constant change of speed, you managed to get there in almost an hour, a little less than the time it would normally take, but still too long for your liking.

Somewhat agitated you rushed to the reception desk, where there was a nurse whose voice you recognized from the previous call. She had to reassure you a bit when you desperately asked her, almost with tears in your eyes, to tell you where Spencer was and what condition he was in.

“What relationship do you have with the patient?”

“I am his…” Your breath caught for a moment, thinking about whether it would be correct to tell the woman the truth or not; In the end, you decided to lie to her "girlfriend"

You and Spencer hadn't seen each other, at least not physically, for a little over a year. You often saw him on the news, in one or another now-forgotten photo that fell by accident from between the pages of your books, or in the articles on the internet about the conferences he gave; but you had never dared to contact him to go out, just as he hadn’t called again. You thought that eventually, you guys would meet again even if it was by chance, but you never imagined that it would be under these conditions.

“Can you help me answer a few questions?” she murmured and to each question she asked you answered almost mechanically. You were quite surprised that, even with the time that had already passed, you still remembered everything perfectly, as if it were your own medical information that you were providing.

The woman informed you, as kindly as she could be, that Spencer had already been in surgery for an hour and that when the doctor came out he could explain what had happened in more detail. You thought about the hit he had suffered to end up there and the anxiety of knowing if he was okay was eating away at your place in the waiting room, where you alternated between biting your nails and moving your leg up and down to calm down.

You wondered, meanwhile, why he still had you listed as an emergency contact. You knew he wasn't a person with many friends, but it sounded more practical for that position to be filled by someone he lived with more often, like Prentiss or Hotchner, not you. It wasn't the first time you'd been in a hospital with Spencer as a patient and you tried to remind yourself that those other times everything had gone well, but on those other occasions he'd always gotten immediate care because he'd been working or it was simple things like a cold that had become too bothersome. You wondered how far he had crashed, how long it had taken the ambulance to get there, how much pain he had experienced. You were really worried, until after half an hour that seemed like an eternity you heard the nurse call you and a doctor appeared next to her.

The first thing you asked, with a trembling voice, was if he was okay, and when you felt the doctor's soft nod you felt your soul return to your body. Then he explained everything that had happened in greater detail: Spencer had been hit from the side by a drunk driver who had entered at the same time as him and who, unfortunately, hadn’t survived. The surgery had been delayed because Spencer had a stab wound to his leg, dangerously close to the femoral artery and at risk of bleeding, as well as multiple pieces of glass buried deep in his torso, which punctured muscle and could damage vessels, nerves, and tendons. He had made the emergency call before falling unconscious and the doctor in front of you emphasized that if it hadn't been for the speed of the report things could have ended worse.

"Right now he is in intensive care, you can come in to see him until he wakes up"

"And how long will that take?"

“It varies from patient to patient. I can't give you an exact answer, but it won't be for another hour or two”

You warmly thanked the doctor for the job done and somewhat disappointed, but definitely calmer, you returned to your seat in the waiting room. You asked if you could stay there the rest of the night even if it wasn't on his side and the woman agreed. A little less upset, you searched in the hospital for a place to prepare coffee and after obtaining a well-charged one you waited again.

At some point you curled up in the chair and after an hour, and the fact that the coffee had no effect on you at all, you had already fallen asleep. Luckily your sleep was light, so you could clearly hear when a new nurse murmured your name and said that she would guide you to where Spencer was, who had woken up a few minutes before. During the walk down the corridor, she warned you that in intensive care only visits of less than an hour were allowed and when you entered the room full of stretchers protected only by curtains, she took you to one almost at the end, indicating that your patient was there.

You didn't go in immediately, because you needed to get some air first to gather the courage to do it, and when you finally did, a sea of feelings flooded you. Spencer looked fatigued and a little pale. His eyelids were closed and if it hadn't been for the heart monitor next door emitting soft, continuous beeps, you would have thought he was already in a better place.

Carefully you approached a chair right next to the stretcher and once seated there you remained silent for a moment, until you felt the need to hold his hand as a way of comforting yourself, as if you were closer this way. Said action didn’t go unnoticed by the man, who, when he slightly opened his eyes, believed that his mind was vilely deceiving him, and a second later your name left his lips as a scratchy and confused whisper.

"Hello" was all you managed to say, holding back the tears that had already pooled on your lashes. "How are you feeling?"

“I feel like everything around me is spinning”

With a little more confidence, and so that he wouldn't strain his eyes, you approached the edge of the bed, still not letting go of his hand.

"The doctor said you really had a bad accident"

"The other man? He is…?"

"Dead" you completed in a whisper, completely admiring your friend's pure spirit that allowed her to worry about who caused him to be there "He was drunk when he hit you and they couldn't do much"

"Oh," was all Spencer said, with a genuine tone of pity. You didn't know what to say, or even what to do, you were just looking at him as closely as possible to reassure yourself that he was okay and with his whole body. Your hand hadn't let go and he seemed comfortable with it.

"Do you want me to call someone?"

"A doctor?"

"To a friend"

"They..." Reid still looked disoriented, as if he couldn't even remember the conditions in which he had the accident, and when he finally got his thoughts together, he looked back at you, "Why are you here?"

“I am your emergency contact”

It took him a moment, again, to process the words. When he was aware of the situation, he closed his eyes tightly as if he had done something terrible, and looked at you with shame.

"I'm so sorry"

"Don't you want me here?"

"What? No! Of course I want you here. It's just that I didn't want to bother you with this, I… I thought I'd change that information when I found a better candidate and I never did, so months went by and I… forgot. Well, I didn't forget, but I didn't want to change it because I didn't think it would be necessary and right now I think I should have discussed it with you and I never did, so I'm sorry. Are you upset?”

“Spencer, relax,” you exhaled gently, rubbing your fingers over the back of his hand “There's no problem staying here, I just want to know if you need me to call someone. They didn't let me stay here for long."

“Call Hotch. I want to let him know that I'm taking a vacation."

It was difficult for him to keep his eyes open continuously, probably from the remaining effects of the anesthesia, so you just nodded and did as he asked. Spencer listened to the entire conversation in which you explained what had happened and even answered some of his boss's questions himself, assuring him that he was as well as he could be after an accident of this magnitude. Aaron also promised that the team would visit him as soon as possible, and he asked you to keep in touch, with an odd familiarity that made you smile.

After finishing the call, you returned to your chair and leaned over to brush his hair off his forehead, taking the opportunity to caress his face carefully. Spencer, still with his eyes closed, smiled at the touch.

“You cut it” you observed “Are you still doing it yourself?”

"Yes, still"

You smiled at him and he smiled back, but neither of you said anything else. There would be time to answer questions later.

Although he seemed to be asleep, he was aware that you were by his side for another long time, and when you said goodbye you promised that you would return there as soon as you could.

The next morning, after taking a shower and calling work that you had an emergency, you kept your promise. Spencer seemed a bit more recovered on this second visit; his color had returned to his cheeks, he was almost sitting on the bed and could basically keep his eyes open for more than ten seconds at a time. The doctor had told you that he would stay there for observation for the rest of the day and once he moved to a general room you could be with him for as long as you wanted. For now, you would have to make do with that sixty-minute visit.

"Do you feel better?"

"Not really. But I'm not complaining, it could be worse” he replied, settling better on the bed and wincing.

“I told the doctors no… I asked them not to give you Dilaudid” you confessed, with a bit of fear of his reaction “No type of morphine, in fact. They told me that they could substitute another analgesic, but that you would feel a little more pain than you normally would. Still, I insisted. I hope you don't mind"

“The doctor told me. And I appreciate it,” he murmured sincerely. He couldn't describe the ease he felt when he found out about it, for he had been drug-free for too long to mess it up by carelessness. Luckily, he had you.

"How have you been, by the way?" you shyly exclaimed, taking a step closer to him "I don't mean right now, but... during this time"

"Relatively well" he replied, inviting you with his eyes to sit in the same chair you had been a few hours ago. In doing so you hoped that he would develop a more complete answer than just two words and then he began to relate to you some events significant enough to deserve a mention.

One of the things you'd always loved about Spencer was hearing him talk, whether it was for a minute or an hour. With other people he talked fast, afraid someone would ask him to shut up, but with you he always took his time. In his words there was no sign of spite towards you, even when you thought you deserved it, always showing the beautiful heart that he harbored in that chest.

“I have also been giving conferences more often and that makes me happy. Many of the people there don't understand what I'm talking about, but those who do always come up and ask me questions. Sometimes Emily or Rossi accompany me and other times I go alone. Oh, and I'm taking a PhD."

"Another?" you said surprised, although you didn’t doubt his ability.

"I've been kind of bored, if I'm honest" was his poor explanation from him. You wanted to remind him that no one went into PhDs just because they were bored, but he was a genius you were talking to.

You didn't dare to confess to him that you had been watching some of his labor movements, but just knowing again a little about the things that were happening to him made you feel good.

“Have you been alright?” he continued, looking genuinely interested in hearing your answer.

“I have been able to defend myself, yes. Do you remember when I told you about asking for a promotion? Well, it finally happened a few months ago and the extra money has been doing me good. I have a little more work freedom, too, and I'm considering moving”

“Where do you plan to move to?”

You explained some of the options you had in mind and after hearing each one he helped you learn about some of the pros and cons in terms of costs, services, and security in the area. You would have continued your talk if it hadn't been for a nurse coming in. She was the same one that had received you the night before and you smiled kindly when you recognized her.

"Good morning, how are you feeling, Mr. Reid?" she asked, as she maneuvered to change the IV pole bag.

“Better than yesterday, definitely”

"You don't have to worry, you will recover soon"

"I hope so" he smiled.

“You gave your girlfriend quite a scare, that's for sure,” she teased, nodding her head in your direction.

You tensed at that, and if you had been an ostrich, you would have buried your head in the ground. Spencer watched you from the stretcher with a little smile and answered something you didn't understand to the nurse. They exchanged another couple of sentences until she was gone, saying goodbye cordially to both of you.

"Did she misread the situation or is there something here I'm missing?" he asked you once you were alone, looking genuinely amused.

“Okay, I admit it, maybe I lied a bit last night. I thought they would have more compassion and trust in a girlfriend than an ex-girlfriend"

"And your real boyfriend isn't going to be upset if you're here taking care of me?"

Ever since you met him you could say that if Spencer lacked a quality, it was subtlety and now he himself was showing it. You knew that there was enough trust for him to tease you like that, but you also knew that asking about your love life was some kind of revenge for having lied to the staff and so you decided to humor him.

"No, he isn’t very jealous to say. On the contrary, he is open-minded and right now we are trying to have an open relationship. You know, I see some people, he sees others, but we still have our thing."

Spencer's previously mocking expression immediately changed upon hearing you say that, having no idea how he would be wise to react. But you couldn't stand it for a long time and you burst out laughing, clarifying between laughs that you were only joking.

“Well, even so, it is likely that at some point in your life you could be in such a relationship, there are even those who think that it is healthy and mature when both people agree”

“It's not quite my style. I prefer safe monogamy or if the guy is very stupid, the sex without commitment for a single night” you laughed slightly.

The deadline for the visit had already expired and with all the sadness you had to say goodbye to him, promising that you would return as soon as he came out of intensive care.

“You've done a lot for me, but it's okay if at some point you're too busy to come, okay? I will understand"

"Don't talk nonsense" you exclaimed firmly, while you leaned down enough to give him a hug without hurting him. Suddenly a new concern invaded you and you felt that you had to ask him a question that you had omitted: "Unless you have a psycho girlfriend who is after my head, do you?"

"Do you think if that was the case, I wouldn't have mentioned it already?" he muttered obviously and now it was your turn to smile.

You didn't want a nurse to come in to get you out of there by force so you took your things and looked at your ex-boyfriend one last time to wave goodbye.

You always thought that when a relationship ended it was because either party had made a serious mistake: “I slept with your best friend”, “my family secretly hates you”, or “it turns out I'm still too in love with my ex to love you”. But when you decided to break up with Spencer, you found that that formula didn't apply to everyone.

Perhaps it was an unfortunate combination of situations, feelings, and problems that led to things simply stopping working overnight. You didn't know how to explain it, none of you, but you guys couldn't even kiss the same way you used to. Your work exhausted you, his work exhausted him, and in the end it was you who decided for both of us that things would be better if everyone took their own path. This isn’t to say that the breakup was less painful, it was just that the hope of being able to have a friendship after it made the grief more bearable. But none of you was able to forget what had happened to pretend to be friends and so, little by little, you stopped seeing each other. Over a year passed with neither of you discussing the silent breakup and, though you and he couldn't have known it, even your respective group of friends suffered a little from the pain of parting from a couple they'd swear would walk down the aisle.

That was why a part of you was guiltily glad that you could see him again and that things weren't at all awkward, like you always imagined they would be. It was your same Spencer, just a little teasing and with less hair, but other than that he had barely changed. He still had those kind eyes that once saw you as if you were the most beautiful person on earth.

You took advantage of the way home in your car to think about everything that was happening to you and for a moment you wondered if with Spencer's recovery all relationship with you would end up withering like a flower with the arrival of autumn or would be reborn as they do in spring.

"I don't even know why we're playing, we both know you're always going to win" you complained, throwing your pathetic poker hand onto the bed sheet, as he laughed.

The hospital called you when Spencer was admitted to the general ward and you had stayed with him ever since. There was a television in the room, but you knew that he was not a big fan of technological entertainment, so before coming back you decided to take as many things as you needed so that you could kill time; a few books, a deck of cards, a book full of word scrambles and crossword puzzles you'd picked up at a newsstand on the way, and even a blank notebook that could do multiple jobs.

He would stay there for about a week (the doctor explained that it all depended on how fast he healed) and that morning you had gone to talk to your boss at the office to ask her for a couple of days so you could stay with him. You still had a week of vacation available and although he felt extremely guilty you insisted on staying there, after all no one from the BAU could leave their post for that long. In addition, urgent or essential things could be done from home and it was enough to connect for a couple of hours from your laptop to solve them.

Spencer hadn't told you, but he felt comfortable having company during his stay there. Hospitals weren’t his favorite places and having such a familiar presence comforted him.

"I'll let you win once if it makes you feel better"

"If you wanted me to feel better you should have done it without telling me, now I know you were just being silly" you huffed, shuffling the cards with both hands.

"It's all about math, it's really not that complicated"

“Why have you never thought about betting big in casinos? You're from Vegas, you must know a lot. And you could become a millionaire with it."

“It is illegal, in fact, and I am banned from casinos in Las Vegas, Laughlin, and Pahrump because of my card-counting ability. So sorry to disappoint you, but those plans wouldn't work."

“A wasted talent. What a pity” you sighed, starting to hand out a new game.

While you were doing that, a nurse came into the room carrying a tray with food and your friend's eyes sparkled, because being fed intravenously for a day and a half hadn’t been very to his liking. When he put it down in front of you, you noticed that everything looked appetizing considering it was hospital food, and after thanking the man he took the dessert and spread it in your direction.

“You don't like Jell-o anymore?

"Yeah, but I know it's your favorite," he added, shrugging and starting to eat the main course voraciously.

"I'm not going to take advantage of a sick person"

“You aren’t taking advantage. I'm giving it to you" with a smile you put the dessert on the nightstand, ready to return it to him if he wanted it later, and as seeing him eat your own hunger woke you up, you told him you'd go out for a moment to look for something.

You were surprised that across the corridor, at the reception, there was a group of people that you recognized immediately. Morgan was the first to notice you and had to turn twice to make sure his brain wasn't playing tricks on him. Then he motioned to Garcia, who was holding a bouquet of flowers and a balloon, and she waved her hand in your direction with a huge smile.

“Are you really who I think you are?” he asked, once they approached you.

"It seems so" you laughed, under the watchful and surprised gaze of almost everyone present.

The team greeted you with hugs, seeming genuinely happy to see you around and asking about the status of your mutual friend. You related all the medical details of the accident, the care they had taken and in the same way you told them that you had been there throughout the entire process.

"And how is he now?"

“He is fine, just a little sore. But the worst is over, the doctor says he will recover soon”

"It's a relief that everything was quick, I don't even want to think about what would have happened if the doctors didn't arrive on time"

"Do you think we can stop by to see him?"

"He'll be delighted, I assure you" you answered happily "He's in room 501, I'll come back to you as soon as I find something to eat"

Everyone thanked you and set out to find the room, except for Aaron who stayed in the hallway so he could talk to you.

"How has everything been?"

"Okay, as far as that goes," you smiled, arms crossed over your chest, "How's Jack?"

"Growing up" was all he said and you didn't need more to know what he meant "I just wanted to tell you that the plan is to stay here for a few hours, in case you want to come home and rest"

Although you didn't often see him, Hotch had always been particularly nice to you when you were the boy's girlfriend, and he had also tried to cheer the man up when he found out about the breakup: he was especially fond of both you and him.

“Oh, thank you very much for that, Aaron. I was going to go get something to eat, but I don't have much of an appetite for fast or canned food, so I could probably eat at home and come back."

"Do what you have to do. We'll be here,” he assured you.

"You're not going to ask Spencer to go back to work, are you?"

"I won't ask him, I'll be lucky if I convince him not to do it" you giggled to see that Spencer was still the same stubborn person as always, and you thought about whether it would be correct to ask your ex-boyfriend's boss a personal question. You had always seen someone strong in him, of course, but he also had a gentle and understanding part.

"He told me that he's been fine, but… has he really been?"

You wanted to hear from someone else how he had been, because you knew that it was likely that the chestnut omitted the bad parts of the story just to not worry you.

"I don't know what can be considered ‘fine' in Reid's life. He has kept up his spirits and as far as I know his mother is doing well. He doesn't drink, he doesn't smoke, and even though I've insisted on it, he refuses to see a therapist, but I guess he finds another way to deal with the problems. There have been bad days, but he always gets over it” you felt calm when you heard that and you nodded with a smile.

“He is always like that. It makes me happy that he has you"

"Sometimes he's not that happy" he sighed, probably with some important background for those words "But in the end it's like in all families, right?"

"I think so" you smiled bitterly. He was watching you carefully, trying to read your micro-expressions as much as possible. After all he was a profiler, that was his job. "Then I'll go home quickly and come back as soon as possible, okay?"

“Good luck, drive carefully”

"It was nice to see you again, Hotch."

Spencer hardly even noticed your absence with the bustle of his friends in the room and when you came back you were even wearing other clothes. During their visit you were just a listener to the funny stories everyone seemed to have and from time to time you answered a few polite questions from others.

You talked to them about your plans to stay there daily and you agreed that they would take turns helping you for a couple of hours each, when possible, so you would get some rest as well. Also, most volunteered to replace the amount of blood he had needed in surgery. All the attention had the man a bit dizzy, but still he felt lucky for the people around him.

The days went by and sometimes you smuggled in a snack that wouldn't harm your friend's health so he could eat during the afternoon. You had convinced him to see one or another movie, you had brought some yarn and needles for you to resume knitting lessons that had been forgotten for many years, and in general you could say that you had a good time with him. Chats with Spencer always felt natural so topics of conversation weren't a problem either, as he would be able to recite facts to you from memory as long as you guys didn't get bored.

The doctors came in frequently to check that everything was in order and every time you heard positive responses about the recovery process you felt calm.

You'd come home at night because Spencer insisted on it, but the next morning you'd leave your apartment as early as possible and spend the rest of the day there.

Although you didn't want to admit it, you were more and more convinced that those days by his side became the spark of happiness that your life needed. All the time was only yours and served to recover some of the lost things.

“Do you want me to read aloud to you?” he offered an afternoon and you put aside your occupations to accept the offer. You had gotten him a copy of The Narrative of John Smith by Arthur Conan Doyle because you knew he loved that book and that was the one selected for the activity.

Contrary to what many people thought, he was a great speaker and the sound of his voice brought to the surface memories that you thought were lost.

"What are you reading?" you had asked that night, after brushing your teeth and putting on your pajamas. Spencer spent at least 10 minutes reading before going to sleep, enough for him to devour an entire book, or at least a large part of it.

You assumed that his current reading would be something related to a case, but you were surprised to hear the answer.

"Alice in Wonderland"

"Why are you reading Alice in Wonderland?" you asked helpfully, as you slid under the covers into the space next to him and peered over the side.

“My mom used to read it to me when I was a kid and I wanted to reread it. It's a nice story"

"I have never read it. I just watched the movie"

"You are committing a sin. The cinema will never do justice to the original stories.”

"And why don't you read to me a bit?" you asked nicely, followed by a short kiss on the lips "I like listening to you and maybe you will help me fall asleep"

You carefully slipped in until you were comfortably recharged on his chest and when you were ready he complied with your request, beginning with the story he knew by heart.

Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it…

It became a habit and sometimes you guys wouldn't even finish the books because you always picked another one that seemed interesting, even if it was in a different language because you knew Spencer would translate it for you. It was those kinds of actions that allowed him to feel useful around you and thus show you how much he loved you.

You had already read that book once, as you were also an enthusiastic Doyle fan, so he felt free to choose one of his favorite chapters. You didn't lie down as comfortably as you used to, but you still enjoyed reading, with a big smile to return to that habit of yours that you loved so much.

In the midst of everything you reflected that, perhaps, the love between you was something that had not completely disappeared, but rather a latent feeling that had now found an opportunity to appear.

Loving meant many things and if you didn't love it then you wouldn't be there at that moment, but somehow repeating an exclusive activity from your time as a couple made you miss that greatly. Spencer hadn't read to anyone else because he knew that was just yours.

This time you didn't fall asleep when he finished the chapter, but you kept looking at him the whole time, afraid that it was just a ghost in your memory that would evaporate in your hands as soon as you dared to touch him.

Luckily he was very real and inside that small hospital room, you could travel to the past as many times as you wanted without being disturbed. And for now, that was enough for you two.

A whole week passed and everything seemed to be going great. That day Spencer had convinced you to watch a Korean movie he had on DVD and you were about to leave when he cleared his throat to get your attention.

"Before you go, do you think you could do me a favor?" he asked. He could move a little better now and right now his feet dangled to the side of the stretcher, from where he watched you slightly nervous. You didn’t imagine what this behavior was due to.

"Whatever, what do you need?"

"I didn't ask before because... I'm a little embarrassed, to be honest," Spencer wasn't watching you speak and your brow furrowed in obvious confusion at that "But... I asked the nurse if I could take a shower now and she said yes, but I need someone to help me"

Your mouth opened with a soft oh and then you understood why he seemed so shy about the request.

“You don't have to do it if you don't want to” he added “I know it can be awkward, I just don't know who else to ask and you know it bothers me so much being so dirty. I hadn't tried it before because it literally hurt to breathe, but now that I feel better I think I really need it and I would really appreciate it if you… you know."

"It’s okay, Spencer," you replied, taking a few steps toward him, "There's nothing in there that I haven't already seen.”

“I will wear underwear, I don't have to be completely naked. You would just have to help me wash… some parts”

“Then why are you making this fuss? Let's give you that shower!" you laughed, sitting down next to him so he put his arm around your shoulders and you could help him up.

He was still having a bit of trouble from the leg injury, but the bathroom wasn't that far away and you managed to guide him there. The shower was surrounded by a plastic curtain, with a proper chair for patients and a hose with a shower head at the end. You helped Spencer into the chair and while you recovered from the effort you took a look around; there were some toiletries on a shelf that would surely do for him, and a white towel as well.

“Morgan brought me some new clothes and the nurse said we could ask the store manager for a gown,” he muttered, before you started doing anything. You took off your shoes and left them nestled to one side, always feeling his gaze following you.

When you noticed that he didn't take his eyes off you and was just there, sitting, you spoke:

“Should I help you take off your gown or do you take it off yourself?” there was amusement in your words and Spencer, as if taken from a trance, hastened to find the knot of the garment for himself. He was already wearing his underpants below and it only took him to get rid of the material so that he was half naked.

You hadn't seen his wounds until that moment and you couldn't help but wrinkle your face imagining the pain he must have felt. His stitches were still there but they were already healing and he would have at least four scars, plus one twice the size on the leg opposite where he had taken a bullet; that added up to five marks adorning his body. He was never an athletic person, but since he wasn't a very keen eater either he was able to keep himself in shape. Personally, you had always been attracted to him in every possible way, so his physique was never something that bothered you: thin, muscular, with some paunch, you were going to like him no matter how he was.

“Are you going to help me or are you just going to stare at me?” he countered, looking down at you with that expression you knew was the boldest thing he could get, and you snorted a laugh.

"Shut up"

You stretched to reach the shower head to warm the water, not wanting him to catch a cold and knowing that a warm shower would make him feel better because it would relax his muscles. Once it was at the right temperature, you wet his hair a bit and took shampoo in your hands to wash his head. He gave a barely audible moan as you began to massage his scalp and closed his eyes so he could enjoy your touch. Once you were done there you took a sponge and started cleaning his shoulders, torso, and back, trying to be as careful as possible. Sometimes you even let your fingers slip through the side of the sponge to touch his slightly tanned skin, as smooth as it had always been, while you gazed at those moles you'd kissed so many times. The first time you had sex with him, as you watched him in the twilight after the act, you had tried to study every part you could, from the little freckles on his back to the birthmark on his leg, and right now you felt like crying to see those little things about him again.

You were enjoying treating him like this so much and not to mention Spencer, who felt like he was in heaven to feel you so close to him. He could smell your perfume, a little worn, but still present after the whole day and from time to time he dared to look up to meet your face. And every time he looked at you, he remembered why he thought you were the most beautiful woman of all.

"You didn't have to give me the whole shower, you know?" he joked at some point, when you lovingly washed his hands “I just wanted you to help me with the parts I couldn't reach. But honestly, I'm not complaining about this."

Of course the two of you had ever taken a shower together, but it had never been anything like this. They were always things to optimize time, like when you were short of time to go to work or too tired to shower separately. This act was something different, something more private and delicate; it was too domestic. You were taking care of him and at the same time enjoying seeing him in such a docile position, peeking at you from time to time.

"I'm just doing an old friend a favor" you answered with a smile, although when you heard the words out loud it immediately faded.

An old friend. Was that what you were now?

The place was silent for a moment, with only the sound of water dripping on the white tile floor.

"Did you ever miss me?"

His question had taken you by surprise and you remained silent before answering, trying to figure out what relation the question had to the situation. From the way he'd said it, you almost thought it was one of those things that burned in his chest and he'd needed to exhale.

"Yes, sometimes" you finally answered. He seemed satisfied with the answer "And you?"

"Many times," he laughed, a bit of guilt tinging his words.

A part of you wondered what he was trying to tell you with that: was it a confession… or a declaration? Ending the relationship had been imminent, and if you hadn’t done it that day you could have done it months or even weeks later, however, you weren’t going to lie in saying that you weren’t tormented by the thought of what would have happened if you had tried just a little longer. And that was accompanied, of course, by a tremendous feeling of nostalgia. You wanted to correct your answer and tell him that you had actually missed him terribly, all along, but you couldn't bring yourself to. And he, who couldn't read your mind, thought that he had simply bothered you with an out-of-place comment.

"You can rinse off while I get a new gown, what do you say?"

Spencer nodded at the idea and then you walked out of there, your cheeks feeling strangely hot. What was happening to you? Did you still have feelings for him?

Maybe the real question was, have you ever stopped feeling something for him?

It didn't take you long to get what you needed and you came back to find it wrapped in the towel. After he got dressed, you maneuvered in the same way to help him out, although now with the added problem of the slippery floor, and before long he was lying back on the bed.

"I feel much better now" he smiled at you. From the bedroom window you could see the night sky and then you realized how long it took you to shower.

"Do you want me to do something else?"

Your curt response wasn't because he deserved it, but because you were too confused to stay there any longer.

“No, everything's fine. Thank you very much for this”

"You're welcome" you smiled.

"Well... I guess you'll want to go now”

You still knew Spencer too well to know that that slight frown between his brows was a sure sign of concern, and you felt bad for speaking to him in the way you had. To atone a bit for your guilt, you approached him and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning against his body in a hug.

His body still felt warm and comfortable and just as if it had been made to fit yours. His arms held you firmly when he was finally able to react and you felt his chest deflate a little, as if he wanted to give you more space to feel close.

Time passed so slowly that you didn't even know how long you stayed in that position, just enjoying the closeness and his gentle hands rubbing your back.

"I like how you smell" you exclaimed in a low voice, fearing to break the tranquility of the moment and you felt his chest vibrate with a laugh.

“Did you know that your sense of smell is directly linked to the attraction you feel for a person? Your nose captures the pheromones that the opposite body secretes and if it considers it a good candidate to mate then it is pleasant”

"I think it's just the shampoo," you laughed. You turned your head up a bit and Spencer, by inertia, turned down to meet your gaze. "Although I wouldn't need to sniff you to know if I wanted to mate with you”

The joke had been so natural that you didn't measure the weight of the words until they left your mouth, and the worst thing was that the position you were in hadn’t been the most appropriate. You could feel his breath mixing with yours and it was enough to get a little closer to melt your lips in a kiss.

You had put yourself in that situation, as if your body was unconsciously looking for his own, and Spencer hadn't refused at any time. Just like how no one had forced you to stay with him all this time and you still had.

Your boss had been too permissive with the situation during that time, but you were sure that she would no longer be so if more time passed, so you would have to return to the office the next morning. And Spencer had at most two more days before the doctor released him.

And what difference did it make if you kissed him at that moment? Would you ever get a chance to do that again? You didn't have to think about it too much, because he was the one who started closing the distance; an inch, then another, until you felt your lips brush against each other. And he would have kissed you if it hadn't been for the unwelcome ringing of a cell phone that made you jump away.

"It's... yours" you stammered, handing him the old artifact that announced Penélope García's contact calling him.

While he was having a conversation, you didn't even look at him, but started packing your things spread out around the room so you could get out of there as quickly as possible. You could tell by the rush in the man's words that he could read your intentions and wished he could talk to you before you left.

"Everything's good. Thanks for calling, Garcia. Yeah, I love you too. Bye”

"Look the hour! I have to go, I'll go back to work tomorrow and I want to have everything in order" you said as soon as he hung up the call, waving your hands in the air as you spoke as a sign of your nervousness "I'll try to come back tomorrow, but... I don't know if work let me"

“Okay, you've already done too much. I'm fine now,” he assured you, giving a thumbs up with a tight-lipped smile. Even though you wanted to say something the words didn't come out of your mouth, so you just raised your hand to say goodbye and then you rushed out of there.

All the way home your mind was busy processing the feelings that almost kiss had evoked in you and, to be honest, they all ended in the same thing: the wish that he had cut the distance completely. That desire followed you when you showered, when you went to sleep, when you woke up, and all through the workday the next day. Minute after minute your mind could only think about him and what would have happened if you hadn't been interrupted by that call.

As you had feared, you didn’t have time to visit him at night and since you didn’t find the courage to call him personally, you only asked the hospital to pass on the message. You intended to see him a day after that, figuring that the matter would have been forgotten, but your plans were thwarted when Spencer called you to say that they had just authorized his medical discharge. He sounded calm and, of course, happy, when he told you that an ambulance was going to take him to his apartment.

"That's wonderful" you answered honestly. You were sitting at your work desk sorting out some documents, so you held your phone between your ear and your shoulder.

“I just wanted to thank you for everything you did. For all. I… I don't know what he would have done without you here. And you didn't have to, but you still did it. So, thanks"

"I already told you before, you don't have to thank me for anything"

"But I'd still like to," he murmured firmly, "Would you let me buy you dinner sometime?"

You were silent for a second, honestly confused by what he was asking. I mean, you knew what he was inviting you to, but you didn't know why.

"Dinner?"

“Well, it's the least I can do for you. I have to use crutches for a while again, so we couldn't go out to a fancy restaurant or anything. It would just be us in my apartment, do you still like Italian food? Rossi taught me a great recipe and I think I cook decent enough.”

“Ah… yes, I would love to” you stammered. You thought that after his recovery you would not speak again and things would return to how they were before; but apparently Spencer had other plans.

"How about Saturday?"

“Sounds perfect to me” you breathed out, still a bit surprised and quite nervous about the proposal you just received. Even if it was merely friendly, you were happy to know that he still wanted your company.

Perhaps you had been too hard on him and on yourself by not allowing things to just follow their natural flow, holding onto the misconception that you and Spencer Reid no longer had romantic feelings for each other.

"I'll meet you here then, do you still remember how to get there?"

“If you have the same address, then I still do it”

"Good. I was just calling to ask you that. I guess you're busy working."

"Only a little"

"Well, I'll let you do it. Thanks for accepting"

"Thank you for inviting me"

You guys were silent for a moment and you wondered if Spencer was smiling the same way you were.

"Bye," he said kindly and after saying goodbye you hung up.

You were left smiling like a fool at the idea that your first date in a long time would be with the only man who years ago had been capable of stealing your heart and after taking a few minutes to process it you went back to your work, but not before pointing with circle the date on your calendar, like a teenager in love.

When the day finally came you made sure to look for a nice outfit before your dinner with him, holding yourself back from looking too excited. You rarely wore dresses but, if your memory serves you, he really liked how you looked in them, so you made sure to look for one that would accentuate your figure and make you look more youthful. You carefully combed your hair, put on just a little makeup, and came on your way to buy a bottle of wine. You still remembered the information that he had told you about which wines were best suited for each meal and although you still didn’t know about dinner, you brought a bottle that it presumed to be Italian.

When you reached number 23 on the second floor, you knocked on the door and after hearing a couple of noises, he finally appeared in front of you.

"Hey!" he greeted you happily. He was using his old crutches, had shaved off the facial hair that had appeared during his hospital stay, and was wearing a black apron with white lettering, which Garcia had surely given him, and which read: Kiss the cook. Please I'm very lonely “Come in, come in”

"How are you?" you asked, stepping into the apartment and greeting him with a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“I’m okay, dinner is almost ready. I had technical complications because I didn't consider that cooking with crutches is more difficult than doing it without them, so I just hope it tastes good" he complained, moving deftly through the apartment to the kitchen "Sit down, I'll join you in a moment"

When he got lost in the kitchen you took the opportunity to take a look at the place. He kept having piles of books both on the shelves and stacked on the floor, on his desk, next to the chair. There were a couple of new artworks on the green wall along with the ones you'd helped him choose in the past, and picture frames everywhere: him with his mom, several with his co-workers (old and new). and you were surprised to see that even you had a space. The frame was smaller than the others, maybe to make it more discreet, but it was carefully arranged on the shelf that, by chance, or perhaps not, contained many of the books that you had given him.

"Do you need help with something?" you half screamed, hearing the crash of some pots and he denied in the same way. The air smelled delicious and your stomach rumbled with anticipation. After a few minutes Spencer was with you, both sitting in the brown leather chair where you had spent so many afternoons together.

“You just have to wait for it to cool down a bit and we can have dinner”

"I brought a wine" you murmured as you handed him the bottle. He examined it and congratulated you on your choice, telling you that it would go perfectly with the pasta he had prepared. "Are you still taking any medication?"

"Not anymore. The doctor prescribed me some things for the pain, but… I'm not taking them” he said, with a guilty smile on his face “I like your dress, by the way”

Hearing this, a satisfied smile spread across your face and you modestly thanked him for the compliment.

As he said, dinner was ready in a few minutes and you accompanied him to the dining room to serve a couple of dishes. Spencer seemed to have put an effort into everything, as he looked really exquisite and you didn't hesitate to compliment him on it even before trying it on. Dinner remained pleasant, with a couple of laughs, jokes and a flirtatious look that sometimes you weren't even aware of. Now that he had gotten rid of the apron, you could see that he was wearing a purple button-down shirt that you had always liked on him, because it fit in all the right places to make him look gorgeous. Besides, that color had always favored him.

Once you were finished, you offered him a drink of wine and he agreed, listing the digestive benefits the drink had for you. He asked if you wanted to go into the living room to be more comfortable and then both of you walked to the rickety chair, taking the bottle with you. Within a very short time the liquid in it was almost completely finished and both he and you became gigglier.

Unfortunately for you, with the laughter that came, your self-control also left. Every time he spoke you couldn't help but let your gaze slide to his lips, a little to be able to correctly understand the words that came out of it and another little just to be able to appreciate the pink color they had; they still looked soft, and you wondered if they would feel soft.

You didn't know Spencer was aware of the struggle you had inside of you, as he kept talking, laughing, and just looking so handsome while you fell apart. After a couple of minutes, you couldn't resist it anymore. Your body was vibrating with the desire to have him, maybe because of the alcohol in your blood or maybe because he looked strangely attractive when he rambled on about his PhD research.

“Spencer” you stopped him suddenly. He looked at you with a hint of concern for having overwhelmed or bored you with his talk about him and you thought he couldn't look cuter that way.

"What's wrong?" he started to say, but the question was drowned out by your lips trapping his.

You kissed him fast but deep and all the weight of guilt fell on your shoulders when you looked at his reaction; he kept not looking at any specific point and breathing heavily through his mouth, totally petrified by what you just did.

"Sorry, I don't know why I did that" you stammered. You regretted it just because you made him uncomfortable, not because you didn't want to kiss him “I messed it up, didn't I? Are you mad at me?" you wanted to know, panicked, but now it was your words that were cut off by a kiss.

He wasted no time and taking advantage of your shock one of his hands came up to hold your cheek, while he leaned more in your direction. His lips tasted of wine and nostalgia, they tasted of an overflowing love that you had finally agreed to continue feeling for each other.

He kissed you so hungrily that he was making you completely dizzy and you only separated when it was absolutely necessary to breathe, repeating kiss after kiss. He lowered his other hand to your waist to try to get you closer and you, reflexively, climbed onto his lap. It was then that you guys really looked at each other; wet lips, messy hair, hot pink painted cheeks and completely agitated breathing.

"Uh, I..."

"It was too much?" you said fearful. His hands had automatically gone up to your waist, since that position was already quite familiar to him, and yours were on his shoulders.

"No, no. I mean… only if this is okay with you”

You could have told him you were sorry, but that would be a lie. You loved being so close to him, you loved that you finally had your courage, and you loved that he cared about what you wanted. And you were going to tell him, that's for sure.

"I am telling you the truth?" you gasped, carefully holding his face to force him to look you straight in the eye. They were the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen: "Right now all I can think about is how much I need you"

No more words were needed for what happened next. You melted into a kiss again and when you pressed your hip against his, he sighed against your mouth, feeling his crotch suffer the consequences of the heated kisses you were giving him. For a moment he wanted to feel sorry, but he knew better than anyone that you already knew perfectly every inch of his body and from the smile he felt on his lips he suspected that you were enjoying the heat in that area more than you should. It was satisfying to see that you still had that kind of power over him, where you barely touched him and he was already a mess. But you couldn't speak more highly of yourself, because when his hands went to your hips you felt like putty between his fingers.

"You want to…?" he started to say, but your insistence on kissing him barely left him thinking "Do you want us to go to my room?"

Spencer was afraid he was going too fast and scaring you with it, but he couldn't find another way to interpret the result of what you were doing. He just wanted you to be as comfortable as possible.

"Yeah, I think so" you answered in a whisper.

You got up from your seat and took his hand intending to help him up, until the crutches next to the sofa reminded you of the man's physical condition. Spencer looked at the hesitation in your eyes, but he didn't give you time to back down, because in one quick movement he was on his feet and crossing to the door that led to his room, ignoring any kind of pain he might feel.

Once there, he sat on the bed and pulled you towards him to continue kissing you. None of you bothered to turn on the light to continue what you were doing. You thought the position might strain him so you gently and carefully pushed him back to lay him flat on the bed. This allowed him to better knead the soft meat on your thighs and you rewarded him with enthusiastic kisses on his neck.

You separated a little until you were sitting on his hip and then you undid the buttons of his shirt. You made sure to gently kiss the wounds he had made and Spencer just sighed with each touch of your lips. A little needy to kiss you, he also stretched out his hands to your dress, asking with his eyes for your consent to lower the zipper and get rid of it.

The dress was left tossed somewhere in the room and you leaned in just enough for him to smear kisses down your shoulders and across your chest. You could tell that he was taking his time and that only increased your desire to have him, to feel him inside you and make you his as he had done so many times.

“Y/N” he whispered against your mouth and you just hummed a nod “Darling, can you help me take off my pants?”

The nickname had come so naturally from his lips and had sounded so delicious that you had to suppress a groan. He called you that all the time, he was a very vocal man and it wasn't uncommon to hear him say those kinds of things. Both in bed and out of it.

You did exactly what he asked and you took the opportunity to slowly pass your hand over the bulge in his crotch, hearing him let out the first moan of the night.

“Hey, do you have a… uh, some protection?” you asked timidly. You loved him and trusted him, but a baby wasn’t what you needed; at least not at that time.

"In the usual drawer"

As if no time had passed, you rummaged with your hand in the left side of the second drawer in the nightstand, until you found what you were looking for. Sudden and unwarranted jealousy swept over you as you wondered if he had invited other women to spend the night and if those others could find things as naturally as you had. No one knew Spencer as you did, you were sure of it, because he wasn't a man who opened up easily to others. And no matter how many people had passed through your life, no one would understand you as much as he did.

Once you put the condom on, you took the opportunity to pump it up and down with your hand and the man's whining made you realize that he had really missed you. Both of you were trembling with anticipation, so with one movement you discarded your missing items and climbed back into his lap. Still a little fearful you looked at him and even in the middle of the darkness you realized the loving eyes on you.

“If it hurts just tell me and I'll stop. I know you're still delicate and I don't want to hurt you.”

"You would never hurt me" he answered and although you wanted to believe that they were limited to his injuries from the accident, you knew that it wasn’t so.

Those words carried more weight than you thought. They were a vote of confidence that he gave you over your entire person, not only his physical condition, but also his feelings and desires.

When you became one you groaned in unison and took a moment to get used to each other again. Your movements became soft, constant, and deep and he, unable to do more, just enjoyed that feeling.

After a few minutes, things went beyond the physical plane you were on; you realized that no one, ever, could make you feel what he did. You felt complete, whole and loved. You loved to hear everything that came out of his mouth and respond with an even more obscene sound. You loved that he knew the right points to touch and when to do it, you loved that he looked for your kisses in the middle of the act and you loved that being with him everything became so passionate and intimate. At that moment it was just him and you, no one else. As it always should have been.

After a while both bodies were already covered by a fine layer of sweat and your hands, small compared to his, leaned on his biceps to be able to move better against him.

"I missed this so much" you confessed, your voice muffled by uncontrollable moans "I missed you so much, you don't know how much I did"

He wanted to answer you, but the truth was that for the first time he had run out of words. He could only feel your body pressed against his and your boobs bouncing with each thrust.

There were certain gestures, movements, and sounds that told Spencer when you were about to arrive, so when he heard your erratic breathing and sensed your hesitation, he placed both hands on your hips to help you keep up.

At some point you felt the knot in your belly forming and you just let yourself be guided by it, anxious to feel the ecstasy exploding in you. It was enough to feel your walls pressing against him, your loud moans and a couple more pushes for Spencer to reach his own orgasm, wishing that the hot liquid had filled you instead of the barrier that protected you.

Your body fell against his, completely surrendered, and you felt his chest rise and fall as you tried to catch your breath. One of his arms, still clad in his shirt, slid around your waist and his lips groped for your forehead to place a small kiss. You were exhausted, but at the same time overflowing with joy, and he shed a single tear. Maybe because he had had a good orgasm in a long time or maybe because of the overwhelming reality that you had just made love to him.

For a few minutes you stayed like that, so peaceful and calm that you feared falling asleep in his arms.

“Y/N” he whispered, your name slipping from his lips so softly you thought you misheard.

"Yeah?" you inquired in a whisper. You two had always liked to talk for a bit after the sex rush wore off, as a way to keep things romantic.

"Risking to ruin the moment, can I ask you something?" he murmured and you rearranged yourself to face him to watch him. He looked so handsome, with dilated pupils and a flushed face, that you thought you might take him again right then.

"Whatever you want," you replied, gently brushing back the hair that had stuck to his sweaty face. You were drunk with love, he could have asked you to lower the moon and you would have done it without hesitation.

"What did this mean to you?" he added cautiously. You knew better than anyone that Spencer needed a certain security in things as well as people. The question would come eventually, though you thought you would have more time to think of an answer that would suffice. “It's okay if you say you just felt like doing it or that it was something that happened in the moment, I understand. I just... I don't want to get the wrong idea."

“And what would that wrong idea be?” you asked curiously. Suddenly he had become shy and just avoided your gaze without knowing how to respond to that, but you took him by the chin to force him to pay attention to you "Spence?"

“I don't want to have any illusions about you. If you don't see something in the future with me, that's fine, but at least I'd like to know."

They were not aggressive or demanding accusations; they were just sincere words with which he sought to protect his heart.

"I honestly don't know what's going to happen to us," you replied. A disappointed expression came over his face and you took him by surprise when you reached up a bit to kiss him again, but this time reassuringly and gently "But today I realized that you are perfect for me, in all the senses. And that I can never love someone like I love you. Does that answer your question?"

“I guess I feel the same way” he replied, but this time he was smiling slightly “And I know that we should have ended a long time ago, but… if your heart agrees, I think I'd like to start over. We were both in a bad situation back then, but now things could be different."

And of course they were going to be, because a part of you was convinced. You loved him, you had admitted it, and you knew he felt the same way about you. That was enough.

"I guess you're right. As always, Dr. Reid” you laughed, hearing his melodious laughter as well.

"For once, that makes me happy" he confessed and almost a second after that you heard him let out a weak moan that made you aware that you were pressing your chest against his still-fresh scars.

But to be honest, any previous signs of pain had been dwarfed by the pleasure of your body grinding against his.

"Maybe I should move" you apologized, but when you tried to, he didn't let you, instead tightening his grip on his arm against you.

"Don't do it” he begged you "Stay here just a little while longer"

For him, you could stay your whole life if he asked you to. Now you were sure of that. He was sure of that.

And now that you two had it back, you weren't going to let it go.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía #david rossi #emily prentiss #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #spencer reid exes to lovers

1K notes · View notes

vergess · 19 days

Note

Please, please explain how to install and use linux like I'm 5 years old. I'm so sick of windows adding AI and other bullshit to my already struggling elderly laptop but I'm really not good with computers at all so I have no idea where to start with Linux.

Okay, so, I'm going to break this down into steps I would give the average tumblr user first, and then if any of them are confusing or use words you don't understand, ask me and I'll explain that step in greater detail.

Step 0) BACK. UP. YOUR. SHIT.

NEVER EVER EVER CHANGE YOUR OPERATING SYSTEM WITHOUT A COMPLETE BACKUP OF ALL YOUR FILES.

Step 1) Learn your machine. You need to know:

How much RAM you have

If your processor is 32 or 64 bit

How big your hard drive is

On windows, you can find out all of this by going to the start menu, typing "about" and opening the first result on your system instead of the internet.

For additional instructions, visit this page.

Step 2) Pick your Linux.

There's like 10,000 kinds of Linux, each tailored to particular functions that the end-user (that is you!) might want to have. The sheer amount is very daunting, so first I'm going to give my suggestions, then I'll explain how to pick for yourself.

For Mac users, I suggest Kubuntu. For windows users, I suggest Mint Cinnamon. If your laptop is really REALLY old, I recommend Sparky Stable, which is the lightest weight Linux I would ever suggest for a new user. In every case, download the version suited to your processor (32 bit can be labelled "x86" or "32 bit"; 64 bit is always labelled "64 bit").

If you want to try a different type of linux, you'll need to make sure your laptop meets the "minimum specs" or "system requirements." These numbers tell you how much RAM, processor and hard drive space the linux will use. (That's why you needed those numbers at the beginning.)

Step 3) Collect your supplies. You're going to need:

An ISO burning program compatible with your current system, like Balena Etcher.

A copy of the ISO file for the Linux you want to use.

Your laptop.

An 8gb or larger USB flash drive.

Step 3) Make a bootable USB drive

Install Balena Etcher, hitting "okay" and "next" when prompted. Last I checked, Etcher doesn't have adware attached, so you can just hit next every time.

Plug your USB drive into the laptop.

Open Etcher.

Click "flash from file" and open the ISO file with your Linux on it.

Click "Select target" and open the USB drive location. Hit the "flash" button. This will start writing all the linux installer data to your flash drive. Depending on the speed of your machine, this could take as long as 10 minutes, but shouldn't be much longer.

Step 4) Boot to the USB drive

This is, in my opinion, the trickiest step for a lot of people who don't do "computer stuff." Fortunately, in a rare act of good will, Windows 10 made this process a lot easier.

All you'll need to do is go to settings, then recovery, then advanced startup and pick the button labelled "use a device."

This tutorial has images showing where each of those is located. It's considered an "advanced setting" so you may get a spooky popup warning you that you could "harm your system by making changes" but we're not doing anything potentially harmful so you can ignore that if you get it.

Step 5) Try out linux on the flash drive first.

Linux installs using a cool little test version of itself that you can play around in. You won't be able to make changes or save settings, but you can explore a bit and see if the interface is to your liking. If it's hideous or hard to navigate, simply pick a new linux version to download, and repeat the "make a bootable USB" step for it.

Step 6) Actually install that sucker

This step varies from version to version, but the first part should be the same across the board: on the desktop, there should be a shortcut that says something like "install now." Double click it.

Follow the instructions your specific linux version gives you. When in doubt, pick the default, with one exception:

If it asks you to encrypt your drive say no. That's a more advanced feature that can really fuck your shit up down the road if you don't know how to handle it.

At some point you're going to get a scary looking warning that says 1 of 2 things. Either:

Install Linux alongside Windows, or

Format harddrive to delete all data

That first option will let you do what is called "dual booting." From then on, your computer will ask every time you turn it on whether you want Windows or Linux.

The second option will nuke Windows from orbit, leaving only linux behind.

The install process is slower the larger your chosen version is, but I've never seen it take more than half an hour. During that time, most linux versions will have a little slideshow of the features and layout of common settings that you can read or ignore as you prefer.

Step 7) Boot to your sexy new Linux device.

If you're dual booting, use the arrow keys and enter key to select your linux version from the new boot menu, called GRUB.

If you've only got linux, turn the computer on as normal and linux will boot up immediately.

Bonus Step: Copy Pasting some code

In your new start menu, look for an application called "terminal" or "terminal emulator." Open that up, and you will be presented with an intense looking (but actually very harmless) text command area.

Now, open up your web browser (firefox comes pre-installed on most!), and search the phrase "what to do after installing [linux version you picked]"

You're looking for a website called "It's FOSS." Here's a link to their page on Mint. This site has lots and lots of snippets of little text commands you can experiment with to learn how that functionality works!

Or, if you don't want to fuck with the terminal at all (fair enough!) then instead of "terminal" look for something called "software manager."

This is sort of like an app store for linux; you can install all kinds of programs directly from there without needing to go to the website of the program itself!

#Asks #Answered asks #octopusdreamsofaquaticsheep

241 notes · View notes

runnning-outof-time · 11 months

Text

Beach Day | Modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: no - but encouraged by @holacia3 with this ask

Pairing: Modern!Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: (Y/N) manages to pull Tommy out of the office so that they can go on a trip. Once at their destination, they waste no time and have a much needed beach day. Or: Tommy forgets everything the second he sees (Y/N) wearing his shirt.

Warnings: language, some suggestive sentences

Word Count: 3332

A/N: this one’s probably going to flop, but I’m happy that I managed to finish it amidst the bout of writer’s block I’ve been experiencing. It was the other option on the poll I ran a few weeks ago. I haven’t got to take a trip to the beach this summer, so I decided to write about it instead. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: this will be the last story posted in July … I’m going on a trip with my family next week and most likely won’t have any major time to write the other requests. I’m hoping that maybe I’ll be able to write and share some of the blurbs that I’ve got in my asks, but big stories have been halted until August.

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories like this one!

"...and you can't argue with me because I've already packed your bags," (Y/N) ended her pitch in an assured tone, setting her confident gaze on her fiancé, who was sitting across from her...at his desk, of course.

Tommy opened his mouth to speak, but the door to the office opening stopped him. Both he and (Y/N) looked over to it to find Polly entering the room. "I'm going to need you to hand over your diary," she said, walking right over to the desk, extending her hand towards her nephew when she stopped in front of it.

"I'm guessing you got her in on this?" Tommy asked (Y/N), his eyebrows raised as he looked between both women.

"I did," (Y/N) nodded in an assured manner, a tight-lipped grin present on her face, "and you're not getting out of it."

"Everything's been handled. Go take a break, Thomas," Polly added, moving her fingers then to remind him that she was going to need his diary.

"So it's been settled then, eh?" he looked at (Y/N) again.

"It has been," she answered him, a victorious smile present on her face, "give her the diary, Tommy."

"If I must," he sighed dramatically as he picked it up from his desk and handed it over to his aunt, making a big deal over it. Inside he was glad that (Y/N) had planned this out...he'd been working tirelessly on the business' latest expansion and hardly had a moment to breathe, but yet he wasn't going to stop and take one for himself. (Y/N) realized that and took it upon herself to plan the forced holiday.

"You must," (Y/N) stayed stern on her point, although the smile she was wearing was full on her face now. Tommy took one more look at his fiancée and couldn't stop the smile from forming on his face. There was not a doubt in his mind that he was ready to relax with her.

——

By that time the next day, Tommy and (Y/N) found themselves checked into a private resort that sat right off of a beautiful beach.

After unpacking their luggage, Tommy made his way out to the living area of the suite they were staying in with the intention of checking in on how things were back at home. He was thankful that this resort had high-speed internet, because he couldn't stand to be disconnected for too long. The flight to the resort was already pushing the limits...nothing would connect in that damned airport.

It seemed as though (Y/N) had other ideas of what they should be doing next. She exited the bedroom the second he'd gotten comfortable on one of the couches. Taking one look at Tommy made her audibly sigh and drop her hand to hit against her thigh, the sound of it making him look up from the screen.

He immediately noted that she had changed. Her comfortable airport attire had been switched for a swimsuit and a loose, practically see through dress that she was using as a cover-up. A pair of sunglasses rested atop her head and flip-flops covered her feet. How she managed to get changed so fast completely perplexed him.

"You're back to thinking of work already?" she commented, a bit of an exasperated look filling her features.

"You know how I like to check on things," he stated, defending himself as he shrugged his shoulders slightly.

"I do know, but we're on holiday, Tommy," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but we just got here."

"Yeah...and I'm already ready to go down to the beach."

"I noticed that."

"Tommy..." (Y/N) sighed, a frown forming on her lips. She held her gaze on him for a moment, watching and waiting for him to say something, before continuing to speak when silence persisted. "I'm going to throw your bloody phone in the ocean if this is how this week's going to play out," she threatened him, her voice holding a more serious tone than it had before.

"Just let me do it now," he bargained with her, "I didn't know we were going to get into things so soon."

(Y/N) pursed her lips as she thought about his suggestion. She finally responded after letting silence hang in the air for a few moments, "fine. You can do it now, but please don't let it become a habit, ok? This was meant to take you away from work," she laid out her stipulations.

"Fair enough. I'll curb it for the rest of the week," he agreed to her counter-offer, nodding his head to seal the deal.

"Good," she nodded in response to his statement. A few beats of silence passed before she spoke again, "I'm going to go down to the pool and wait for you, ok?" she told him her plan.

"Ok," he agreed, watching her as she walked over to where he was sitting. "Look beautiful, baby," he couldn't resist giving her a compliment, his eyes running over her body.

"Thanks, Tommy," she smiled at him, her stomach filling with butterflies as she leaned down to press a kiss to his lips. "Don't be up here too long, hmm?" she mumbled against his lips after pulling away.

"I won't," he promised her, feeling her smile against his lips before they shared one more kiss. (Y/N) stood upright again, smiling and nodding at him once more before she moved back over the island that broke up the kitchen and living space.

"You know where to find me," she told him while making sure that her tote bag was filled with the essentials: beach towel, sun tan lotion, hotel room key, and, of course, her latest book. She looked over to him, watching as he nodded one last time, before she made her way to the door of the suite.

There weren't many people sitting by the pool, so (Y/N) was able to find an open lounge pretty quickly. She set her bag down next to the chair and then relaxed back against it. The ocean's waves could be heard from where she was, and the calming sound of them made her shut her eyes and take a deep breath. It was good to finally be able to take some time and actually relax.

As a senior member of the Shelby Company Ltd.'s marketing team, she was working just as much as Tommy was. Always coming up with new ways of advertising; always keeping up with the different avenues Tommy was taking the company down. It was tedious and time consuming, sure, but she wouldn't have it any other way...the job was how she met her fiancé, three years ago.

With both of their busy schedules, neither really had the time to take a moment and relax...until (Y/N) made a point to now. She was thankful for this trip, and she was sure that Tommy was, too.

Some time passed as she sat, relaxing on the pool lounge. She wasn't sure how long she'd been out there; she wasn't really keeping time as she switched between laying with her eyes closed and watching the other people meander about the pool area.

Luckily she was doing some people watching when Tommy came walking down the stairs and into the pool area of the resort. She spotted him as he was descending the steps, and immediately noticed that he'd changed into his beachwear. The white t-shirt and jeans he'd worn while traveling was now swapped for a pair of gray board shorts and a baby blue linen button down shirt. She couldn't help but stare at him as he walked across the area to get to where she was lounging.

"Ready to go down to the water?" he asked as he stopped in front of her lounge.

"I see you're finally finished with your work," (Y/N) commented, pulling her sunglasses down slightly to peer up at him.

He chuckled at her statement, shaking his head slightly as he looked out to the ocean, "yeah, and it's finished for the rest of the trip."

"If you say so," she brushed off the topic as she sat up on the lounge, collecting her bag and making sure that she had everything she'd come down with. "Let's go down to the beach," she said with a smile as she stood next to him. Tommy nodded his head before allowing her to lead the way to the gate that separated the pool area from the private beach that the resort offered.

The beach was beautiful. The sand was soft, and the breeze coming off of the waves made the hot rays of the sun not burn so bad. One of the perks of the resort having a private beach was the fact that there weren't many people inhabiting it.

(Y/N) and Tommy quickly found a spot to set their things down. (Y/N) made sure that the beach blanket Tommy had brought with him (because she'd forgotten it in the room) was laid out underneath one of the umbrellas the resort had set up. She set the bag down on it before kicking off her flip-flops and lifting the cover-up from her body.

"Let's go down to the water," she excitedly said, flashing a look in Tommy's direction before she took off towards the waves.

"You're not even gonna wait for me," he responded, moreso to himself than anyone, a smile forming on his face as he shook his head. He could easily tell how much she was already enjoying this holiday, and he was so thankful that she'd planned it for them. It took him a few moments to undo his button down and set it into the bag before he too kicked off his flip-flops and began walking down to the water.

He approached (Y/N), who was standing facing the waves, and wasted no time wrapping his arms around her midsection. His actions made her shriek at first, but she sunk into his embrace in seconds. "Isn't it beautiful?" she asked him, swaying slightly along with him.

"It is," he mused, resting the side of his head against hers as they looked out at the waves. "The water's not too cold either."

"It's not," she agreed, her hands coming up to sit on his forearms, "let's go in," she said then, tapping his arms to let him know she wanted to be released. He obliged, and she took his hand to lead him out deeper in the water.

They made their way out to where the water reached their waists, stopping there even though Tommy thought that they could go out a little bit further. (Y/N) protested his suggestion, telling him that 'things might eat us if we go any further'. Tommy listened to his fianceé's statement and stayed where they were. They spent a good amount of time in the water, switching from swimming around, to floating with the waves, to (Y/N)'s personal favorite: hanging onto Tommy like he was a tree and she was a koala.

At least an hour of them spending time in the water had to have passed before Tommy finally decided to start heading towards the shore. His movement, of course, didn't go unnoticed. "You're leaving me?" (Y/N) questioned after she saw him take a few steps backwards. She was enjoying herself in the water and had had no plans of leaving it any time soon.

"I think I'm ready to get out of the water," he answered with the obvious.

"We've not been in here long though," she pouted.

"I need to go sit for a minute, love. I'll be just up there," he told her, motioning to where their things were. (Y/N)'s pout didn't subside, but she nodded and allowed him to leave the waves.

She watched him walk up the beach and sit down on the blanket they'd laid out. Her eyes lingered for a few moments before she went back to floating on the waves.

It wasn't long before (Y/N) was exiting the water and walking up to where Tommy had made himself comfortable. It just wasn't the same wading in the waves alone. She wanted to spend as much time with Tommy as she possibly could. A sight - that she honestly wished she'd be surprised to see - was waiting for her at the blanket though.

"I thought you said you'd ditch the work while we're here?" she commented as she stopped in front of Tommy, who had his face buried in his smartphone as he tapped away at the screen.

Her voice made him quickly look up, a surprised expression forming on his face as he noticed she was right in front of him. "I was just checking a few things," he told her, holding his hands up in surrender, his now locked phone present in one of them.

"Mm-hmm," (Y/N) shook her head as she moved over to where the bag was sitting so that she could grab a towel and dry off, "you do know the ocean's right there, right? I could honestly take that phone and give it a good chuck," she stated, making sure her body was dry.

"You wouldn't," Tommy responded, a slight tone present in his voice, showing that he was testing the waters.

"I just might," she quipped back, a grin on her face as she dropped the towel back into the bag.

Before she could move to sit next to him, light blue fabric caught her eye. She instantly recognized it as the linen button down Tommy was previously wearing. She picked it up without a second thought, draping it over her shoulders and slipping her arms through the holes. It covered her swimsuit clad body immediately and she was grateful for the soft, cool fabric on her otherwise warm skin. She'd just finished rolling the sleeves up to her elbows when she finally felt Tommy's eyes on her.

Tommy had been watching her from the second she came back to the blanket. His phone was quickly forgotten as he watched her dry off and then grab the shirt from the bag. Sure, she had her own cover-up, but he was so damn happy that she'd chosen to slip his shirt on over her body. Something about her wearing his clothes just got him going. Just when he thought she couldn't get any more beautiful, she went ahead and did something like this. He couldn't help but let his eyes travel up and down her frame.

(Y/N)'s eyes finally found his when he found her face once more, and she couldn't stop the butterflies from fluttering in her stomach as she noticed the look he was giving her. She wanted to make a comment, but it died in her throat as she just about melted under his stare.

"C'mere," Tommy finally spoke, nodding his head to the side as a non-verbal addition to his statement. She grinned at him and happily followed his direction, moving over to where he was sitting.

He brought his knees up and opened his legs slightly, offering her the perfect spot to sit down in; one that she quickly fell into. She easily got comfortable sitting between his legs; her back rested against his chest. Tommy wasted no time in wrapping his arms around her, pulling her even closer to his body as he leant over and began pressing kisses to the side of her neck.

"Tommy, stop!" she exclaimed through her giggles, finally trying to squirm away from his lips as his actions quickly became ticklish. He listened to her and stopped his kisses, but he didn't dare loosen up the grip that he had on her.

It was easy for his hands to find their way onto her body, being that she'd left the shirt open, and he couldn't help but let them roam her figure. He took his time, feeling every curve as he nestled his face into her neck; breathing in the sweet smell of her skin mixed with the sunshine that had been kissing it since they exited the hotel room. (Y/N) had practically melted into his body, absolutely loving the feeling of his hands as they traced her skin.

She waited until his hands found their resting spot on the sides of her waist, his arms crossed over her stomach, to finally speak again: "I see that I've got your mind off of work now," she said with a grin, turning her head so that she could see his face out of the corner of her eye.

"Oh you most certainly have," he answered, a grin laced into his words, "look so fuckin' beautiful in my things...always, baby," he mumbled against the skin of her cheek before he kissed it.

The butterflies returned as she heard what he had to say, and she couldn't stop herself from turning in his arms even more so that she could press her lips to his in a much needed kiss. "Love you, Tommy," she mumbled against them, smiling as he kissed her again, this kiss holding more emotion than the last. "I can't wait for the rest of this week with you," she said once they'd finally pulled away from each other. She was now sitting with her body turned more towards him, so she was able to look at him head on. She couldn't stop her cheeks from heating up as she caught the look of total adoration in his eyes.

"If this is a preview of what's to come..." he trailed off, a grin forming on his face as his eyes danced over her figure once more, "I already know that this trip is going to be one that's hard to top."

His cheeky comment that was accompanied by a rather suggestive glance, made (Y/N) gasp, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes and shake her head as she tried to distract herself from how his words actually made her feel. Why did there have to be other people present on this beach?! She had to look towards the ocean for a few moments to re-center herself from the look that was making her wonder what they could get away with out here.

A few moments had passed before she felt the sharp snap of her swimsuit's strap against her skin. "Tommy!" she shrieked at the sensation, her eyes snapping back onto him to see that a smug grin was now present on his face. He tried, and failed, to feign innocence before his expression dissolved into a grin and chuckles. "I can't believe you," she shook her head, gently pressing on his shoulders for him to get the hint to lay back on the blanket.

She wasted no time in pressing her lips to his when he did lay down, and he made a mental note to do things such as that more often if this was going to be how she responded to it.

After sharing a flurry of kisses, (Y/N) rested her head against his chest, not caring about the shine of sweat that was present due to the heat of the sun that was engulfing them. She was thankful for the shade that their umbrella was providing.

Tommy wrapped his arms around the small of her back underneath the shirt of his that she was still wearing, effectively holding her close to him...like she was going to be moving any time soon. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the serenity that was surrounding them; not thinking about anything but the beautiful woman laying with him.

Like he'd said before: if this was a preview of how the week was going to go, this was most definitely going to be a tough trip to top.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

522 notes · View notes

everybodyhatesmiddleschool · 3 days

Text

It has been six excruciating days since I was plunged into the Bridgerton fandom against my will.

I was minding my own business, watching YouTube compilations of the best kisses in TV history, when I unwittingly clicked on a video about Colin and Penelope, and I was immediately down so bad for them.

Let me be clear: Bridgerton was not part of my life before I clicked on that video. I wanted nothing to do with it; I had no intention of ever watching or reading that smut. And then, without warning, it swept in and took me in the night, much like Colin Bridgerton in the back of a carriage.

To say I have been lost in the sauce these past six days would be a gross understatement. The carriage scene is literally ruining my life. I haven’t gone to sleep before 1 a.m. since Sunday, and I have been over an hour late to work every day. Why? Because I cannot stop consuming that godforsaken scene — watching gifs of it over and over, reading y’all’s hilarious takes and memes about it, watching it with the audio descriptions turned on (🥵), watching it with the music removed (🥵🥵), watching Luke and Nicola on their press tour, watching, watching, watching.

Have I started actually watching season 1 of the show? Of course. Did I check out the large-print version of the first book from the library since it was the only copy available? You bet. But I do not care about these other characters and storylines. I want it to be Colin and Penelope on the screen and the page in every sentence and every scene.

And either fortunately or unfortunately, I don’t even have to be looking at a screen to be distracted by them — my daydreaming has never been as maladaptive in my life as it has been this week. I can hardly think of one ten-minute stretch in the past six days in which some imaginary scenario has not been taking over my brain. I want to be part of their world so bad — not just Bridgerton, but Shondaland. As is the case for 90% of all of my daydreams, I want these actors to know I exist. I want them to look at me with just as much awe and love as I look at them. So I might be staring at my computer screen in my cubicle, but in my mind, I’m on a press tour of my own that intersects with theirs. (I’m never the desperate fan with no life in my dreams; my idols always see me as their equal). I might be driving my commute in my car, but in my mind, they’re congratulating me about my own novel being optioned by Netflix. I might be brushing my teeth in my bathroom, but in my mind, we’re laughing together on Graham Norton’s couch.

But Lord, here comes that freaking carriage scene once again, inserting itself into my mind (pun unavoidable). I cannot get over it. I’m so stuck there that I’ve found myself wearing shoes I don’t remember putting on, carrying coffee mugs I don’t remember putting in my bag, driving a speed limit I don’t remember agreeing to as acceptable. There is laundry that needs to be folded. Bills need to be paid. Emails need to be deleted en masse without reading. But I can’t find the door that will let me out of this damn carriage.

I had a conversation with myself two days ago about how we might be able to adapt to this new living situation. After a few temper tantrums, I finally said, “Girl, if you’re going to watch this scene 1,000 times, you have got to find a way to make it a constructive part of your life.” So I did what any rational adult would do: I started writing a scholarly paper about why it’s so powerful — not just for me but, according to the internet, for a lot of women. And I have every intention of writing an entire paper about this … if I can find the time. I’m just so busy right now with consuming this damn scene.

Was starting to write that article enough to satiate my obsession with this scene, with this show and these actors? Of course not. So this morning, I started writing a spicy scene of my own, featuring not Colin and Penelope but two other vaguely outlined characters who I’m sure I’ll give names and personalities to later. I was literally sitting in my cubicle, hunched over my planner, writing down snippets of sexiness in as small a print as possible in case someone walked up on me and looked over my shoulder without me noticing. And I’m not gonna lie: this shit’s good. I’ve never written smut before, because I’ve never had enough spice in my own life to feel like I’d be able to do it justice on paper. But that imagination of mine — she’s a freak. And my mind? My mind has moved way past the gutter. It is now in the outhouse. It’s in the slop with the pigs.

It should have come as no surprise, but as usual, the act of actually writing down the jumble of mess in my brain has had the effect of breaking some of the spell. I was also forced to focus on work because of looming deadlines, and I currently feel calmer than I have since Sunday. But I am truly living in fear of June 13. I cannot go through this again, and I know that I’m bound to, because I know that what’s been shown so far won’t hold a candle to what’s coming. And if I get down bad any further, I will be deep enough in the ground for this to become my final resting place. I’m not ready to be buried, but it feels inevitable.

But somehow, despite my own wants and fears, and despite the fact that we haven’t even been introduced yet to the bedroom where Colin and Penelope are sure to end up, I am somehow already lurking from behind the window curtains in the corner, peeking out at them doing the deed. I know what I hope I’ll see: based on the excerpt I’ve seen from the book, they will be in front of a mirror — expressly because Colin wants Penelope to see herself in full for the glorious goddess she is, and she will look at her sexy, bare self with just as much pride and love as we viewers behind the screen will (but probably with slightly less lust than Colin, who I pray will be very loud about how hot she is).

I am dreaming about this scene, but I dread it. Because if it’s as good as the carriage scene, I will immediately be re-enscripted and sent right back to the trenches where I spent the last six days. I’m excited, but I’m scared. And I’m afraid of getting lost in the woods again, because I know that if I do, I won’t want to be found.

#bridgerton #polin #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #colin x penelope #bridgerton season 3 #maladaptive daydreaming #creative writing #send help #nicola coughlan #luke newton

116 notes · View notes

magiccath · 6 months

Text

Worst Nightmare

tenth doctor x GN!reader

Summary: In which the Doctor is trapped in an alien-induced nightmare, and it's up to reader to save him

a gift for my friend @internet-stranger-says-hi

The Doctor woke up in an unfamiliar bed, panting. He looked around the room, anxiety building within him at his surroundings. He was in a hospital room. He hated hospitals, they gave him the creeps. His eyes searched the room for you, darting around at a shocking speed. It quickly became apparent that you weren’t in the room with him. Where were you? He needed to find you, and quick.

He noticed a small IV strapped to his arm and ripped it out with haste, not bothering to check the damage in his haste. As quick as he could, he threw the bedsheets off, immediately rushing to the door. A sudden tension built within him, harboring a desperate need to find you. He needed you, he always did.

He threw the door open and speed walked out into the hall. As he strode he ran his hands through his hair anxiously, wracking his brain for any memory that might clue him into his current situation. The issue was, he couldn’t remember a single thing. Where he was, why he was there, and most importantly, where you were. The questions piled up, fueling the anxious thoughts within the Time Lord.

He really, truly hated hospitals. He told Rose as much when they visited New-New York. Even the fun little gift shops couldn’t ease the discomfort that they brought him. The irony wasn’t lost on him. His name itself implied hospitals (or at least some kind of medical context), but he just couldn’t do it.

The hallways seemed to go on forever, an endless maze of off-white walls. The pain in his head was accentuated by the bright fluorescent lights, creating a blinding blur around his vision. The putrid smell of disinfectant hung in the air, making his stomach churn.

He tried to outrun the sinking feeling, searching desperately for an exit sign. He ran down hallway after hallway, increasingly desperate for a way out. It never seemed to end, an infinite labyrinth of his nightmares. He called out your name desperately, hoping you were somewhere in the hospital. He received no response, only the unsettling buzz of the lights above his head. It was excruciating.

He began to wonder if he was nothing more than a mouse trapped in a complex maze set up to find the block of cheese. In the end, he didn’t really care if it was a trap, he needed to find you.

He desperately called out your name again, more a plea than anything else. The more he ran through the hospital, the more he was convinced he was truly lost. Every shadow caught his eye, giving him false hope that you were there.

He needed you. So much more than he would ever admit to himself, especially more than he would ever admit to you. Without you, he was scared and lost, and worst of all, he was cruel. He never wanted to be those things. He never wanted to be without you.

He felt tears pickling his eyes, but he refused to cry. He had to shove his own feelings down and find his way out. He didn’t have time to dwell on the pain and fear boiling within him, no matter how much it hurt.

He gathered himself and continued on, rushing through the endless halls. He made a mental map of where he was going, trying to ensure that he didn’t run about in circles. He noted the turns, the signs, and the labeled doors. It all seemed futile, resulting in him still running in what felt like circles.

After what felt like multiple gruesome hours, he ran into you. Your face felt like home, and he couldn’t help but throw his arms around you. He held you tightly against him. He dropped his head to your shoulder, burying his nose in the crook of your neck. From here, he could breathe in your calming scent. He never wanted to move, just wanted to stay here in your arms.

Unfortunately, his reprieve was brief, as you quickly pulled away from him. The warmth of your embrace was quickly replaced by a harsh slap to the face.

“You left me!” You cried - fury etched into your features.

“I lost you!” He argued, using his hand to cover the spot you slapped him. He didn’t understand what was happening, and that upset him. He always knew what was going on.

“You did not,” you huffed, “you left me all alone!”

“I didn’t, I would never do that,” the Doctor pleaded, obviously upset. He truly wouldn't. He needed you, he wanted you.

“I cannot believe you,” you sneered, anger boiling. “I follow you all this time, and the minute I stop being of help you dump me.”

“Please-”

“You’re an absolute monster, y’know,” you spat. The Doctor didn’t know what to say, he wasn’t sure he could say anything.

“The things you have done are completely unforgivable, and I’m tired of pretending they aren’t! You do way more harm than good.”

The Doctor felt tears building in his eyes again, and there was little he could do to stop them. Against his will, they started to fall. You were hitting him in his most vulnerable spots, and it was excruciating. You knew his insecurities better than anyone, and here you were exploiting them.

“You’re arrogant, rude, and a whole new level of selfish,” you continued. The Doctor shook his head like the action might stop your words.

“You don’t deserve to be loved,” you laughed, the sound more cruel than musical like it normally was. The Doctor didn’t want to hear anymore, but that didn’t stop you.

“I really, truly, wholeheartedly, despise you.”

That was the final hit, he was done for. Everything else became so insignificant. His ears started ringing, a pressure that muted everything around him. He knew you were still talking, still yelling at him, but he couldn’t seem to hear it. Perhaps it was shock. Perhaps it was heartbreak. Perhaps he was so upset he was regenerating.

“Doctor!” your voice came through his head clearly. But that’s not what your mouth was saying. It was almost as if he had the subtitles on for the wrong show.

“Doctor!” But there it was again, clear as day, your voice calling him, pulling him out of the dark.

His vision blurred, and the scene in front of him faded away into nothingness. He had been violently ripped awake, forcing him back into the present. He sprang upwards, nearly knocking you over in the process. His breaths came in short, painful pants. He felt like his lungs were on fire, and the room around him was blurry and unfocused.

“Doctor!” you cheered a third time, throwing yourself into his arms. He stiffened at the touch, still wary and hurt from your words. What had previously been a comforting action felt more like a stab to the gut.

You pulled away gently, confused by his demeanor. He usually softened at your touch.

“Doctor?” you asked softer, worry clouding your eyes. What had happened to him?

“Where am I?” He gasped, terrified. He felt a lightness in his head like he could pass out at any moment. His eyes darted around the room again, unsure if this was another horrible dream.

Footsteps thundered down the hall, signaling that the aliens who kidnapped the Doctor were near. You supposed it was up to you to get the two of you out of this. A sudden urgency fueled you, and you sprang into action.

“Oh dear,” you rambled, “we need to get you back to the TARDIS, now,” you hauled the Doctor upwards as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

The Doctor was a lot heavier than he looked. You supposed it was due to his impressive height. Nonetheless, he was heavy enough that you had a bit of trouble dragging him back to the ship in a timely manner. Fear and adrenaline coursed through your body, motivating you to move faster.

You lugged the Doctor through the heavy wooden doors before slamming them shut. You fumbled with the lock on the door, your hands shaking. You finally got it closed and breathed a sigh of relief. You slumped back against the doors with another exhausted sigh. You were safe behind the TARDIS doors, but that didn’t stop you from worrying. What if the aliens figured out how to get into the ship? What were you going to do then? The Doctor was the one who got you out of sticky situations like this.

You moved over to where the Doctor lay on the floor and started tapping his cheek, hoping to prod him awake. You needed him to get you to safety. You had done as much as you could, unfortunately, it was up to him now. Frustrated and groggy, he complied, awakening with a groan.

“Doctor,” you whispered, urgently. All you got was a grumble in response. “We need to get out of here,” you urged, eyes darting between him and the door.

He noted the anxiety in your voice and demeanor, the events of the past few hours rushing back to him. He needed to get you out of here.

Begrudgingly, the Doctor pulled himself upright, dragging his hands over his face. Suddenly, a burst of energy flooded him, and he was on his feet. You watched flabbergasted as he ran about the ship, flicking switches, and pressing buttons.

“Doctor?” You asked with a laugh. This wasn’t unusual for him, which was a good sign. He had boundless amounts of energy at all times.

“Yes?”

“Are you ok?”

“Never been better,” he said, but his inflection was off, “thank you.”

You presumed he was thanking you for rescuing him, something he never did. You were still sitting on the floor, legs spread out like a child. You frowned at the ground, wondering what you had done wrong. You racked your brain for something that might explain his upset but came up with nothing.

You pulled yourself up from the floor, confused. You watched the Doctor pilot the TARDIS, the whole time completely ignoring you.

“Where are we going?” you asked, leaning against the console. He didn’t respond and moved away from you. The ship suddenly felt incredibly cold to you. You rubbed your arms subconsciously, trying to comfort yourself.

The TARDIS landed with its usual thump, causing you to wobble slightly on your feet. You tried to catch the Doctor’s eye, but he evaded you.

“Home,” he said matter of factly, gesturing to the doors. His eyes remained trained on the console, refusing to look at you. Was he dismissing you?

“I didn’t ask to go home.”

“You don’t have to stay here.”

“Do you want me to leave?” You asked, hurt. Maybe he was finally done with you.

“You don’t have to spend time with someone you hate.”

“Do you seriously think that?” you asked, your voice pain-ridden. You had just risked your life to save him. You loved the Doctor, how could he not see that?

“You said it yourself,” he shook his head.

“When?”

“Earlier, when you found me in the hospital,” he still refused to look at you.

“What are you talking about?”

“You made it very clear that I was an unforgivable monster and you truly hated me,” The Doctor finally looked at you, and his gaze felt like daggers.

You scrunched your eyes closed, the pieces finally falling together. Slowly, you opened your eyes, “You got kidnapped by aliens,” you explained simply, “they put you in a dream-induced state and showed you your worst nightmare.”

“What?” The Doctor asked, eyes wide in confusion.

“None of it was real,” you said, completely earnestly.

“I could never hate you. Ever,” you pleaded, “and you are far from a monster.”

The Doctor shook his head, trying to make sense of it all.

“Really,” you said, forcing him to look you in the eye. He needed to see you weren’t lying. He needed to see how much you meant to him. That you couldn’t look at him and feel anything but love.

He moved his gaze away from you, staring at the TARDIS console, brow furrowed. You desperately wanted to push your finger between his eyebrows to smooth the worry wrinkle.

“I spent so long not allowing myself love,” he whispered, so light you almost didn’t hear him. “It’s just safer that way,” you didn’t understand why he was telling you this, but you didn’t dare interrupt him.

“And then I met you,” he lifted his head slowly to meet your eyes. It was easy to forget how old he was, how much he had seen. That was until you looked into his eyes. Behind them was so much time and pain that it was almost impossible to look away sometimes.

“As much as I tried to fight it,” he continued, “There was no stopping my feelings for you.”

You honestly didn’t know what to say. You would never have expected him to say these things, to feel this way. A part of you felt the same and more, but you had always thought it wasn’t a possibility.

“Doctor,” was all you could manage to get out.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he blurted out, already turning away. You caught his face with your hand, gently turning him back to you.

“I love you more than I have ever loved anything in my stupid human life,” you whispered, staring deep into his eyes.

“What?” He gasped like the information shocked him.

“I love your sticky-uppy hair,” you said, running your fingers through his locks lightly. “I love your freckles,” you ghosted your fingers around his nose and cheeks next, “I love the smile you get when you figure something out. I love your mind and the wild things it comes up with,” you allowed your hands to rest against his face again. “I love how kind you are, and how deeply you care. I love everything about you, every part of you.”

Somehow you had managed to say exactly what the Doctor needed to hear. Your gentle words and touch melted him to the core.

“Really?” He whispered, still terrified it wasn’t real. He couldn’t remember the last time that someone had said they loved him, let alone listed off a bunch of reasons why.

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. Stupid Time Lord.

“Really,” you whispered back, leaning in closer to him.

He smiled lightly and rested his forehead against your own, bringing you closer to him. You nuzzled your nose against his gently. Your eyes fluttered closed, feeling a new kind of comfort with the close proximity. After a minute the Doctor slowly closed the last little space between you, finally connecting his lips with yours.

The Doctor was so much better at kissing than you had ever imagined. It put every single kiss to shame, even those on the telly. It was almost as if he was made for you. A perfect fit.

You smiled against his lips, feeling more at home than you ever had in your life. Yes, you could get quite used to this.

#10th doctor x reader #10th doctor/reader #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor/reader #tenth doctor #10th doctor #doctor who #doctor who fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #david tennant #hurt/comfort #angst #angst with a happy ending #angst with fluff

391 notes · View notes

baileypie-writes · 5 months

Text

~I Want to Break Free - Part 2~

Velvet and Veneer + Younger Sibling!Reader

Part 1 here!

Fandom: Trolls 3: Band Together

Relationship: Familial

Synopsis: Velvet, Veneer and the trolls save you from Lemon Pop.

Warnings: Abusive and manipulative behavior(Lemon Pop), Reader being tortured, blood and a broken nose(Reader), Velvet swearing.

Story Requested By: @sweetheartturtle2007

Tags: @sweetheartturtle2007 @reizuuuu @dark-stars-and-the-moons-melody

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn’t have any energy left to scream as your musical talent was painfully sucked out of your body once again. You were honestly surprised that you had any talent left to give. Your arms and legs were almost completely translucent, and your hair was more white than it was your natural color.

You flopped into the floor with a loud thud, making you groan. “Haven’t you had enough? This is the seventh time you’ve done this just today.” You asked Lemon Pop, your face being squished by the floor, muffling your speech slightly.

Lemon Pop laughed. “Aw, are you tired? Well, too bad. It’s a busy day, and the people want me to sing!”

“I’m sure they’d also like you to be honest.” You mumbled, but Lemon heard.

She stomped over to you, and grabbed your face harshly, forcing you to look at her. “Hey, at least I’m putting your talent to good use instead of posting stupid covers on the internet.” She mocked you. She let go of your face, making it fall to the ground, and bang your nose on the floor. You yelped in pain.

Lemon quickly checked herself in the mirror, before opening the door to leave. “You should probably put a bandaid on that or something.” She said, then left the room, slamming the door behind her.

You got up, with some struggle. You were so weak, you had to grab the wall for support. After looking at yourself in the mirror, you saw what Lemon Pop was talking about. Your nose was bleeding, a result from what happened just moments before. It looked pretty busted too, probably broken.

You grabbed some tissues from the vanity, and held them on your nose. You thought back to how this all happened. You would’ve never guessed Lemon Pop’s true intentions when you first met her. She was so kind. But despite this, you still called yourself stupid for falling for her tricks. You missed your freedom, and you missed your family and friends. Lemon truly proved how messed up she was by forbidding you from seeing them.

All the memories from before this mess flooded your brain, and you wished you could have your old life back. Then the reality sank in that in the next few days, you’d probably be dead. Lemon was using more and more of your talent each day, and there wasn’t much left. This broke you, and you crumbled to the ground and cried.

~~~~

Veneer accelerated the speed of his car, following the lights of what were obviously coming from Lemon Pop’s concert. The sky above it glowed of yellow, matching the yellow traffic light that Veneer sped past.

“Drive faster, Veneer!” Velvet pestered.

“I can’t! Any faster, and we’d crash! I’m surprised that we haven’t even been pulled over yet!”

Before they could argue anymore, Rosetta interrupted. “We’re almost there! I can hear Lemon singing!”

The twins became quiet to listen. They could hear her as well, and they hated how good she sounded. That was your talent. And she was using it for her own benefit. They new it made then hypocrites to be mad, but at least now they finally understood how Brozone felt.

Veneer pulled into the parking lot, not even bothering to find a proper spot. Everyone hopped out of the car, and started booking it to the concert. Only a few seconds after beginning to run, Velvet and Veneer heard tiny voices from a distance behind them.

“Hey! Wait up!” Branch complained. Velvet rolled her eyes, and she and Veneer walked back to the trolls. They scooped them up, each twin taking half, and resumed the rescue.

Mount Rageons were jumping and screaming. Velvet and Veneer could barely see Lemon Pop at all.

“Ugh! How are we gonna get to her?” Velvet growled. She barely heard herself over all the screaming.

“I have an idea!” Poppy exclaimed. “Velvet, Veneer and the bros, you focus on finding (name). Rosetta, Viva and I will get to Lemon Pop!” She said. Once everyone agreed, the three troll ladies stretched out their hair, and swung upwards to the ceiling. Then, the rest of them went to find a door to backstage.

~~~~

After Veneer created a distraction by making his car alarm go off, the guards were gone. The twins and Brozone made it inside, and began searching for you.

“Where do you think (name) is? This place is huge!” Asked Bruce.

“Well, when we had Floyd trapped,” Veneer started. Floyd huffed, annoyed by how causally he said it. “we kept him in our dressing room.”

“Ok, then let’s check there. And please, be quiet.” Branch reminded for the hundredth time.

They made it to the dressing room in little time, and were alarmed when they heard sobbing coming from inside. Velvet and Veneer rushed to the door, and flung it open.

You gasped, startled. Once you and your siblings locked eyes, your crying stopped. “Velvet, Veneer? Why are you here?”

“What does it look like, idiot? We’re here to save you!” Velvet said. She and Veneer rushed over to you, enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug. Brozone stepped aside, so you guys could have your moment. You were so happy to see them, and started crying again. The twins pulled away, taking a good look at you to make sure you weren’t hurt.

“Oh my gosh, what happened to your nose?! It looks broken!” Veneer asked, holding your face to examine it.

“Oh, that was an accident. I’m fine. I just wanna go home.” You said through tears. The twins looked at you, and gave you a reassuring nod. Suddenly, you heard what sounded like an angry mob coming from the location of the concert.

“What’s going on?” You asked.

“Our friends are handling Lemon Pop, so I’m guessing they broke the news. Let’s go see!” John Dory spoke up. Velvet and Veneer helped you up from your spot on the floor, and you all made your way to where the stage was.

~~~~

“Are you guys really believing a few trolls over me? They’re clearly lying!” Lemon Pop shouted in anger. Her ugly side was coming out, which was not helping her attempt to prove her “innocence”.

You and everyone else had made it to the stage. You, Velvet and Veneer hopped on, causing the audience to erupt in gasps.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Velvet shouted, nearly launching herself at Lemon. But you stopped her.

“The trolls are telling the truth. My name is (name), and Lemon Pop’s been stealing my talent.” To prove yourself, you rolled up your long sleeves, showing the audience your translucent arms. Another wave of gasps flooded the room.

“She did the same to me too!” Rosetta chimed in. Now the audience was angry, shouting at the pop star they paid to see. Lemon Pop was backed into a corner, with no way out. At that point, the guards had decided to take action, and made their way to her with a pair of handcuffs.

You and your siblings smiled at each other in victory.

~~~~

(A Few Weeks Later…)

Your road to recovery has been nothing but successful. Your hair color was coming back, which you were very pleased about. You didn’t want to live the rest of your life looking like an old person. Your arms and legs were also not so translucent anymore. It’s gone down to your hands and feet.

Lemon Pop was serving her time in prison, which would be a few years. This made you feel relieved, to say the least.

“Hey kid! How’re you doing?” Veneer said, entering your room with Velvet.

“I’m good!” You said.

“Great! Look at that, your nose looks much better now!”

He was right. Your nose was almost fully recovered. You’d be taking off the bandage in a couple of days.

“So, what’re you doing?” Velvet asked.

“Oh, just working on a new song.” You said. Since being saved, you decided to become a singer. You’ve released a few songs already, and they’ve done really well. You already have a ton of fans, who’ve supported you after the whole incident. You’ve completely replaced Lemon Pop, and both you and your siblings are proud of that.

“Cool. Can we hear it?” Velvet asked. Veneer nodded, agreeing with her question.

“Sure!”

You’re forever grateful for your siblings and for the trolls. Because of them, you’re not dead, and you’re able to start a career. You’re using your own given talent to be successful, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~baileypie-writes

#trolls 3 band together #trolls 3 #trolls 3 x reader #trolls 3 velvet #trolls 3 veneer #trolls velvet #trolls veneer #velvet x reader #veneer x reader #velvet x reader platonic #veneer x reader platonic #baileypie-writes

182 notes · View notes

justleaveatnine · 8 days

Text

pink in the night - matty healy. part three.

you join the 1975 on tour as an actress starring in the narrative portion of at their very best alongside the lead singer, matty healy. he’s got big ideas and wants to redefine what a concert is, blurring the lines between fiction and reality. on stage together each night, it starts to feel less and less like acting. but is it the same for him?

masterlist.

cw: none

wc: 8.8k

I am on a lonely road and I am traveling, traveling, traveling, traveling Looking for something, what can it be? I hate you some, I hate you some, I love you some I love you when I forget about me I wanna be strong, I wanna laugh along, I wanna belong to the living

You let out a sigh, erasing and rewriting the final line once more. Writing poetry has always been your personal form of meditation, preferring to contemplate your thoughts and desires through prose and lyrics. Carving out your flesh and blood with ink on the notebook's is the only form of self-introspection you know.

You keep trying to finish a poem you started weeks ago, but your mind won't think of anything other than flashes of black curls, calloused hands, and deep, brown eyes.

Self-indulgently, you grab your laptop and open up Youtube. Your fingers quickly type his name, and the results are instantaneous. You scroll through the interviews, compilations, and music videos, watching the images of his face dash across your screen. You spend most of the night listening to him speak, talking about his music, his life, his opinions. It feels like you could listen to him for hours. You let his interviews play on your laptop as you finish piling clothes into a suitcase.

You've spent the past few days packing, trying to compile your entire life into just two suitcases. You're about to spend the next two weeks at the Rock Lititz Studios in Pennsylvania, a concert and production rehearsal space (a concept which you did not know existed).

You stomach churns as you think about meeting everyone, this massive group of people you've never met who you'll be living with for the next few months. You are a social person, sure, but this is a whole new level of required extrovertedness. Other then your agent, the only people you interact with on a frequent basis are a few friends from uni and their partners. Your mind dwells on these nerves for the rest of the night as you try to tune them out with Matty's voice.

It takes longer than expected, but you finally manage to finish packing. You drop Luna off at your friend Leslie's, who has graciously agreed to watch her while you are away. She begs you to tell you just what artist it is that you'll be working for, but you want to surprise everyone. Particularly Leslie, who you know is a pretty big fan of the band. You smile to yourself as you imagine just how shocked your friends will be after videos of the first performance hit the internet. Especially the more…risqué videos.

You say goodbye to your flat, catch your flight, and as you touch down in JFK, you can practically feel your life in America on tour beginning.

—

When you get to Rock Lititz, you are greeted by a very stressed out PA who introduces himself as Lucas. His phone does not seem to stop buzzing, and he frequently picks it up while he speaks to you to fire off messages. He looks like he might explode if someone asks him to complete any additional task than what he is evidently managing. He gives you a thick stack of papers that he says contains your schedule, additional documents you need to sign, and a printed copy of the script for the show. He then hands you your room key, and you wonder if he is somehow running this hotel as well.

His phone buzzes louder than it had been, and after checking it, he apologizes and speed-walks away from you before you can even ask him a question. You're a little confused, but you make your way towards your room on the third floor. You throw your suitcase onto the ground and hop quickly into the shower, exhausted and feeling grimy after the hours on the plane. After a quick shower, you collapse onto the bed to try and make up for some of the lost sleep with the jet lag.

It barely feels like any time has passed before you wake up and notice the sky has gone dark. You groggily check your phone and see two messages from Matty a few hours earlier.

Lucas says you're here!!

You laugh as you realize one of his stressfully sent messages was alerting Matty of your arrival.

Come to the lobby bar for 8 we are having a pre-rehearsal party x

You like his message, and write back.

See you then!

You check and realize its already half past seven, and quickly pull an outfit out of your unzipped suitcase to change into rather than back into your airport clothes. You touch up your makeup, fix your hair, and begin to head to the bar downstairs.

It hasn't even hit 8 yet, but the bar is already crowded. You didn't realize it took this massive of a crew to put a concert tour together, and you are somewhat in awe. You head to the bar and order a drink, downing it quickly right before ordering another. You need the confidence to meet this amount of people. You begin to walk around as you nurse the drink in your hand, hoping to somehow spot someone you'd recognize.

A mop of black hair in the corner catches your eyes, and you smile as you watch Matty excitedly chat with someone just out of your eyeline, blocked by a crowd of people. Matty takes a sip directly from a wine bottle and turns his head, locking eyes with you.

When he notices you, you try to convince yourself that the way his eyes light up is just your brain playing tricks on you. He stumbles through the crowd, and it is immediately apparent that he is drunk. A dopey smile graces his face as he calls your name, and suddenly his arms are wrapped around you in a slightly too tight, but a welcome nonetheless, hug that leaves butterflies in your stomach. His face is buried in your neck. He smells like a mix of aftershave and the Marlboro Reds your college dormmate use to secretly smoke out your window when her chemistry classes became too much to handle. Part of you wants to bury your face in his neck as long as he'll let you, but he pulls away to talk at the same time your brain screams at you to have reason.

He gasps, movements exaggerated, as if he suddenly remembers something. "I have to introduce you to the guys!" He turns around and grabs your hand, and you hope he doesn't turn back to see the blush splayed across your cheeks. He drags you through the party, and you wonder just how much he must have drank to be this affectionate with you when you truly aren't that acquainted with the man you'll be preforming with just yet. That doesn't mean you don't want to be, though.

Suddenly, you are nearing with three men you recognize from your brief online searches about the band. You look over at Matty and he seems like he's bursting with excitement, like a kid in the candy store as he pulls you towards them. One of them has long hair pulled back into a ponytail, and is nursing a drink while sat on top of what appears to be a chair made of black concert equipment boxes. Beside him on a couch are two other men, one with bleached hair and the other bald. The bald one is showing the other something on his phone, and the bleached one is smiling, almost lovingly. As you and Matty approach them, he yells "Guys!" to get their attention, almost startling them.

He gives them your name, telling them, "She's who'll be doing the show with me!" He quickly looks between you and the men, desperate to read all of your reactions.

The one with the long hair says, "Oh, so you’re the poor girl he’s roped into this!" The other two men with him begin to laugh, and the drink you threw back before Matty came over causes you to let out a little too loud of a laugh as well. Matty sloppily hits him on the arm, exclaiming "Shut up, you prick," scoffing.

The long-haired man sticks out his hand towards you. "Ross," he says with a kind smile. You shake his hand back. You learn the man beside him with the bleached hair is named George, and the bald man is called Adam.

You aren't sure if its them or the alcohol, but it quickly feels like you've known them for ages. Adam's shows you videos of his son on his phone as you coo, drunkenly engrossed. You swear its the cutest kid you have ever seen, but it might be the alcohol talking. George and you get into a drinking competition that you quickly forget the rules to, downing shot after shot while laughing at each other. He is surprised you can handle as much as himself, being significantly taller than you, but your tolerance has been your party trick since the early days of uni. Ross is trying to explain something funny that happened to him at a petrol station the week prior but you both can't stop laughing, at what you are not quite sure, to even get a word in. It feels like its been ages since you've talked to Matty, but you are having such a good time getting to know the guys you can't quite bring yourself to be too upset. When you look around for him, you see him singing karaoke with the microphone in one hand, and a new wine bottle in the other. You laugh when he tries to sing into the wine bottle, and slowly realizes his mistake and switching back to the microphone.

You were so nervous to meet all these people, and you can't help but feel a little proud of yourself that you didn't make yourself out to be a fool. At least, you don't remember doing anything like that. Because when you wake up the next morning, you can't really remember much that happened after, or how you got back to your room.

You roll your face into your pillow and let out a groan, immensely hungover. Having a high alcohol tolerance in the moment unfortunately does not translate into hangover immunity. You pray to all the gods you can think of that when your recollection of the night ends, you simply walked yourself back up to your room.

You take your time getting out of bed, throwing back two pills and downing the rest of the water bottle you purchased at the airport. You don't need to be at your rehearsal until four in the afternoon, so you spend the rest of the morning and early afternoon unpacking, nursing away your hangover, and exploring the hotel. The hotel is aggressively music-themed, to the point where it almost seems comical. Every single piece of artwork has to do with music, and almost all of the furniture is decorated in fabric with music iconography. You can't help but laugh when you pass the ice machine that is shaped like concert equipment boxes, similar to the chairs from the party room. The hotel is connected to the rehearsal venue, and is filled with the touring crew and the band, everyone beginning to prep for the upcoming shows. By the time you head back to your room to collect your script, it is time for you to head down for rehearsals.

—

The first part involves meeting with the intimacy coordinator. She's a warm-faced older woman who is dressed very colourfully, draped in massive beaded necklaces. She introduces herself as Cathy, and you can't think of anyone with a demeanor more suited to their profession. You meet her in one of the hotel’s small conference rooms that is aggressively David Bowie themed, the extent of which makes you laugh internally.

Everything she tells you you already heard from Matty in your first meeting with him, but it feels slightly more professional and serious with her. The two of you go over all of your scenes with Matty, her ensuring you feel comfortable with each of the actions written into the show.

Your decision hasn’t changed since that day in the coffee shop—none of it fazes you. (As long as getting a little too lost in some daydreams about the two of you on stage doesn’t count as fazing.) This is one of the biggest creative challenges you’ve gotten to face, and you feel nothing but anticipation and excitement. There’s nothing that begins to take away the joy in acting than filming auditions for mind-numbingly dull scripts day after day until you can’t even remember the last time you truly felt passionate about a role. This is the role you've dreamed about, all aspects of it included.

After you finish going over everything and reaffirming your consent with the intimacy coordinator, you head to the arena to begin your actual rehearsals with Matty. The arena is empty when you enter. The house lights are off, and the stage is illuminated as if there is a show being performed. As you walk closer to the stage, you realize you aren’t alone. Seated in the middle of a couch placed near the stage on the floor is Matty, hastily writing something in a notebook.

Your footsteps echo in the quiet arena, and Matty turns around to see you walking towards him, and gives you a friendly wave and smile.

"Surprised you made it out of bed," he calls out, shutting his journal and placing it in the bag sitting on the sofa beside him.

"If I recall correctly, I saw you finish at least two bottles of wine last night, so no self-righteousness,” you call, arriving at the couch with a smile.

"Darling, I can easily neck two bottles of wine in a few hours," he snorts. "Every time I looked over, you and George were throwing back another shot until he was stumbling. And George can outdrink a horse."

"I had a fun time in uni, what can I say?" you laugh. "I might've been a little to focused on auditions and going out to care about my marks for those years, I'll admit."

"Well, it brought you here, so all the binge-drinking and benders were worth it then, yeah?" he teases.

"Alright, smart-arse. Enough about my drinking habits and more rehearsing"

Matty walks the two of you to the stage and shows you around the set. Just like the plans he showed you, it looks like a nostalgic and cozy home. There's pieces of furniture spread throughout, alone with a staircase that leads to an imaginary floor. You never seen anything like this for a concert, which makes sense considering this is far closer to a play than a regular concert. Matty is pointing at random details of the set and sharing their meaning with you. It shows how much he truly cares about the art and the performance to plan all these details that fans past the second row will likely be unable to see.

He leads you over to a wooden chair with a teal cushion. "Right, so this is where you'll be for the first song, Inside Your Mind."

You're sure he knows you know the blocking from your meetings with the intimacy coordinator and revisions of the script, but you let him continue anyways.

You sit on the chair. You look around the venue and realize that with no one else there, there's no way to play the music you'll be rehearsing to. You ask him if there's someone coming to run the tech.

"Oh, erm, I was just going to cue it from this laptop, it's all set up to connect to the venue speakers."

His face then flashes with slight alarm. "If you want me to I can go get someone, I didn't mean to assume, I just thought you might rather it just be us, I can totally get one of the venue staff—"

"No, no that's not it at all. I was only curious. Just us is good." You give him a warm smile.

"Please don't be afraid to tell me how you are feeling, I want to make sure you are comfortable with the whole process. If one of my fingers is even a centimeter too close to where you'd prefer it not to be, don't hesitate to kick me or something," he says with so much earnestness you let out a small laugh.

"I don't think I can promise that I'll kick you, but I'll be sure to let you know how I'm feeling. That goes for you too, you know. We're up here together."

"Right," he nods, reassured. "So I was thinking we just run through it first, and then with the track? Is that good?"

You nod in agreement. He lays out the script onto the table in front of you, and briefly reads it before looking back up at you. He steps closer so that he is stood right in front of you, back to the stage left side of the audience.

"For this first bit, I'm going to crouch and I'll have my hand on your knee. But make sure you don't look at me, keep your eyes fixed at some point in the distance, yeah?"

You hum in acknowledgment. He crouches down, almost on one knee. He raises his hand right above your knee, but doesn't touch it.

"Is this okay?"

"Yep," you let out a small giggle, raising your eyebrows. He smiles and places his hand on your knee. You feel goosebumps forming under your leggings, and mentally curse your far-too reactive body.

"So I'll do this bit down here, then I'm going to walk around you a little more like at the start." He gets up and walks behind you in a loop, returning to stand where he had sat before.

"Then after that is when I'll get close to you again. I'm going to stroke your face for the next line, is that okay?" He is being so clinical with everything that it’s almost endearing. His eagerness for your comfort and approval is a stark contrast to some of the shows you have worked on in the past, where your scene partners had little regard for your feelings about the contents of the script.

"Yes, it's okay Matty," you say with a smile, nudging his calf with your leg. Suddenly, his warm hand is on your cheek. He looks at you, focused.

"Okay, I'm going to pull on your hair now. Is that-"

"Matty," you laugh. "It's okay, really. I appreciate how clinical you are trying to be, but just do it for god's sake. I told you I'm okay with all of this, you don't need to be afraid of scaring me off," you say with a warm smile.

He meets your eyes and smiles back. "Fine. But don't think this doesn't mean I'm not going to announce everything else! I take consent very seriously!" he says the last comment with an air of put-on self-righteousness that makes you laugh.

"Just pull my hair, for god's sake!" you play-shout, cheeky.

The air leaves your lungs as his expression slightly hardens. He weaves his hand through your hair, and tugs. Your head is suddenly pulled back and up, looking up at him even more now. You can't turn with how tight his grip is. You swallow, a gasp caught in your throat.

"Is this okay?" he asks, face still hard with focus, but not unkindly.

You clear your throat. "Uhm-yeah! No, that's great. Just startled me a little bit." Your body feels like its on fire. You feel so aware of each of his fingers wrapped around your hair, pulled tight enough to position your head just how he wants you. Your mouth goes dry. You cannot be reacting like this to him just pulling your hair.

Pull yourself together, you admonish yourself. You did a play that involved a sex scene at the Edinburgh Fringe years ago and never felt anything even close to this once on that stage. Why now? You realize you've been staring at Matty without saying anything for a little too long, and try to ignore the voice in the back of your mind that says the pretty obvious reason for your reaction.

His hand that's not gripping your hair continues to rest on your cheek, moving his thumb slightly over your cheek. You ever-so slightly turn your head towards it, leaning into his hold. Your eyes are locked with each other. Your mind is foggy as you stare up at him. All you can think about is him, and his thumb stroking your face. Nothing else matters, nothing else could possibly matter. His brown eyes bore into yours, and you wish you could see what was going on behind them.

He's been stroking your face long enough that you think he might've lost track of time too. Is his heart racing as yours is? Is he thinking of anything else but you staring up at him, looking as if he is far more than just a man on a stage?

He slowly winds his hand out of your hair, and takes his hand off your face. He clears his throat.

"Sorry, my mind blanked for a moment there, don't know what happened," he laughs sheepishly. God, you hope he's lying.

The rest of the rehearsal goes off without another moment like this, no prolonged eye contact or indulgent stroking fingers. It's just another regular rehearsal. You make yourself make sure of it. (Ignoring the fact that every time he touches you, your heart feel like it might burst out of your chest.)

—

The rest of your time at the studio blurs by. You run through the show over and over with Matty until its second nature. You meet the rest of the band, and you and Polly immediately glue yourselves to each other when you find out you were at the same uni and managed to never run into each other, always staying on the edges of each other's orbit. You meet with Patricia, with whom you select your costume from a group of dresses she picked out. It's a gorgeous off-white dress with floral detailing on each of the sides, and you can't wait for the chance to wear it. The feeling inside of you is indescribable when you run through the show for the first time start to finish for the crew. They're all in awe. The show is amazing, and they make sure to tell you. It's going to blow everyone away, you're sure of it.

“You’re really gonna piss off some parents with this,” one of the crew laughs to Matty as you all are sat on the couches in the center of the arena, going through the lighting one final time.

“You know being provocative isn’t just about being on stage and spewing off stuff to make people angry. Which we all know I do to an extent, but that's not the point. This right here" he between himself and you rapidly, and you feel a blush forming on your cheeks, "this is actually provocative. This is the kind of shit that will make people talk, will make them reconsider what exactly a stage show is. And that's exactly what I want. This band has always been about pushing limits, and it feels like this is almost the only pathway possible for us, in the best way."

As you all head back to your rooms that night, anticipating for departing for the first show the next morning, the energy in the air is palpable. Everyone knows just what kind of show they've got on their hands, and they can't wait for the fans reactions.

You walk side by side with Matty as he tells you about some of the minutiae of touring. When there's a pause in the conversation, you begin to speak.

"So, erm, I just wanted to say to you that I know you've said stuff before about how when you're on stage, you can get really caught up in the moment and, erm, sometimes feel like you get carried away, or, uh," He looks at you quizzically. You're just rambling. You take a deep breath.

"My point is, is that I'm okay if you want to change stuff while on stage. Don't like, erm, slap me or anything, but I just mean you don't have to check with me if you want to do some of the smaller things differently. I'll follow your lead."

He stops the two of you. "Love, I don't want you to have gotten some idea that I get into some uncontrollable stupor on stage where I-"

This is a new nickname. Your stomach flutters but you try to continue without visibly acknowledging it. "No, god no, it's not that. I am just saying that I am okay with like, I don't know, grabbing my waist during one of the kisses, or you touching me more while you walk around me on the chair, without directly consulting me before," you rush out.

His eyes widen. Now he's blushing. He shakes his head slightly and clears his throat before beginning to speak.

"You said you've seen me talk about getting really into the performance on stage… have you been researching up on me, darling?" a sly smirk appearing on his face.

"You've seen my commercials, only fair I watch what I can of your stuff, no?" you reply with a matching smile.

He clicks his tongue. "Back to the, erm, the show. I don't want you to think you have to say this based on my interviews-"

"I promise, it's not. I just know we can make this the best show possible if I follow your lead up there. That's all I want to do."

He lets out a deep breath. "Alright then. I promise I will not slap you up there, or anything close to it." He holds his hand out for a handshake, a small smile forming.

"And I promise I will not slap you either," you remark, shaking his hand with a similar expression on your face.

"Careful darling, I might just have enjoyed that," he teases. You hit his shoulder lightly as you walk to your rooms, and try to ignore the fire dancing behind your cheeks.

—

You're sitting on the tour bus, driving to Uncasville for the first tour date. You are sat across from Matty on the couches. He's playing his Switch as George sits on his phone beside him, and you scribble in your notebook.

I am on a lonely road and I am traveling Looking for the key to set me free Oh, the jealousy, the greed is the unraveling It's the unraveling and it undoes all the joy that could be

You haven't had any inspiration to finish the poem in a few days, but sitting across from Matty, you hand feels as if it has a mind of its own, flurrying across the page.

He looks over at you. "What are you writing?" he asks.

"Nothing," you brush off, smiling to yourself. He hums and returns to his game. You look back up at him when he's not watching. He's jittery, but there's a peacefulness to him that is evident. His curls frame his face in a way that looks far too perfect to be real, yet your deep breaths and heart that beats quicker and quicker against your chest proves that none of this is in your imagination. His fingers move deftly across the controller, precision gained from years of playing guitar, you're sure. His alabaster skin stands out against the ink that stains him, and your racing mind thinks about what that skin would feel like against your mouth, how soft it would be to touch where you haven't yet, until a semblance of sense stops the thoughts in there tracks. You cannot be thinking about him like this. You refuse to let yourself indulge in the thoughts that fester in the back of your mind every time you meet his eyes. You will not let yourself be the naive young actress who falls in love with the first man she kisses on stage, unable to separate the art from reality in her mind. This is a show. This is your job. You won't let anything ruin this for you, not even yourself.

You look back down at your page and tap the pen against the paper, absentmindedly. You bite the end before continuing to write, trying not to dwell too hard on the man across from you who makes you want to write and write until your hand bleeds, fingers broken and covered in ink stains from the endless words. The feelings in the back of your mind bleed to the front, commanding your hand across the page.

I wanna have fun, I wanna shine like the sun I wanna be the one that you wanna see I wanna knit you a sweater I wanna write you a love letter I wanna make you feel better I wanna make you feel free

Your pen repeats the phrase on the page. Your heart beats in your chest, faster and faster and faster.

I wanna make you feel free I wanna make you feel free

— The chimes playing over the sound system stop. You take a deep breath. The show is about to begin. You are standing below the stage but behind the curtain, where various people who are apparently important enough to obtain backstage passes are milling about, nursing drinks and buzzing with excitement.

The band is behind the door at the back of the stage, waiting for the cues in their in-ears to go on. You've got some in as well, something you've never had while performing. You take them out to hear the audience scream, knowing you aren't needed on stage just yet and can enjoy the show.

You look up on to the stage. Matty is lying down on the settee, waiting for the curtain to drop. He sits up, and you panic. It'll drop any second now. He meets your eyes, and flashes you a smile. He gives you a thumbs up, and you give him one in return. The two of you are about to make this arena lose their goddamn minds, and you cannot wait a single second more.

You hastily gesture for Matty to lie back down, eyeing the curtain rapidly. He blows you an exaggerated kiss and lies his head back against the couch, missing you bringing your hand to your mouth to cover the smile forming.

The curtain drops. You hear the audience scream as they react to the set, and you wonder if they can see Matty pretending to be sleeping on the couch.

The streetlight flashes on with the music, and the cicadas begin to chirp. It's happening.

"Adam," you hear in your in-ears. The lights around the door flash on as he enters to the screams of the crowd. "Jamie," comes soon after, following him onto the stage.

You see Matty begin to rise off the couch, looking at the audience with a puzzled look on his face before putting his coat jacket on. You smile to yourself, knowing they have no idea just how crazy this show is going to get.

Matty walks over to the piano, lights a cigarette, and takes a seat. His hands rest on the piano. He plays, fingers hammering onto the keys.

The arena erupts into screams. Your heart is pounding so loud that you can barely even hear it. This is happening. The show has begun. In less time than you can count, you'll be on the stage again. You're grinning so wide it hurts your cheeks. Matty begins to sing.

Your reverie is broken by the voice in your in ears, calling "Ross." He walks onto the stage and grasps Matty's hand as he passes by him. The band's closeness was such a surprise to you, naively expecting the group held together by contractual obligations, tolerating each other to get through the shows. Seeing the four men be unabashed in their love for each other, both in public and in-private, was a pleasant shock to your system.

"George," the voice in your in-ears calls. As he sits down behind the drums, he shoots you a wink. You wink back, laughing. God, you can't wait for the rest of this tour. You haven't even gone on stage yet and you are having this much fun.

"Polly" comes next, and finally "Gabi." The whole band is on the stage, and you can't help but watch in awe as they begin to play together. You were never an avid concert goer, but you can easily see in this moment how someone would camp for hours on a street and stand in a crowd for ages, just to watch a show like this.

Matty sings the final line of the song and immediately stands up. He grabs his fire-red guitar, and walks to the mic placed at the front of the stage. He slings it over his shoulder as the intro for Looking for Somebody (To Love) rings out. Using the guitar as a gun, he aims first at Ross before methodically turning to the audience, crouching as he mimes shooting them. You laugh as it makes them scream even louder, the idea of death at the hands of the man they worship a welcome one.

He stands back up and runs onto the side table, playing the beginning of this song. Your mind flashes back to him telling you about writing the song, how it reflects his belief that the only vocabulary given to young boys to assert their dominance in any position is one of violence and destruction, and how online groups like incels foster and encourage it. He told you that the character he plays in the show is essentially one of these young men that he is singing about in this song. You told him back that he could have been a cultural critic rather than a musician. He laughed off the comment but you could see the slight red tinting his cheeks after your compliment, and it made your heart swell.

The song finishes, and Matty sits down on the chair. He thanks the crowd for coming over in an exaggerated, drunken voice that makes you laugh. He leans back, kicks his feet up, and begins to sing Happiness. He gets up, moonwalks across the stage, and dances around for much of the song. He never danced this much in the rehearsals. You are quite surprised at how good he is, not guessing he had much of an ability in that department.

Once the song finishes, he walks over to the stack of televisions and takes a seat in the chair. The audience will be seeing your face momentarily. A flash of nerves runs through you, even though you aren't even needed on stage yet. Your life is never going to be the same. You take a deep breath, squeeze your fists, and smile to yourself. This is everything you dreamed about, coming together all at once. The nerves edge off.

You look at the large screen showing Matty singing towards the televisions, and there you are. The videos flick between you and news clips, but increasingly linger on you. By the second verse, it is only you.

Matty sings to the screens, entranced. The crowd screams, and you laugh, imagining how confused some of them must be about the identity of this woman they have never seen before that Matty is singing to. He runs his hand down the screen, entranced.

He continues to stay at the screen until the instrumental bridge, when he stands and begins to wander in the middle of the stage. He sings a portion of the final chorus to the audience, but heads towards the television on stage left beside Ross, staring at the video of you intently as he finishes. The audience screams, the loudest they have so far.

The next two songs go off without a hitch. Oh Caroline is one of your favourites, and you dance with a nearby crew member. You laugh when the whole band begins to step in time with each other during I'm In Love With You. Right at the end of the song, he glances back towards a television that flickers to footage of you for a moment, and then turns back to the crowd.

After they finish, Matty talks to the audience for a little while, miming with his body that the album feels more inwards and closed off. He tells them he's nervous, and that they haven't done a 1975 show in a long time, and certainly nothing like this. They cheer in response, and you hope that it can somewhat alleviate the nerves running through him about what the two of you are about to do.

He laughs at the audience before telling them he's going to watch the rest of the band, who have gathered onto the risen portion of the stage behind them, and to do their own thing, You hear the drums kick in to play Roadkill, laughing as Matty performs the first half of the song with his back to the massive audience.

The lights dim as the song finishes, and you hear your name in your in-ears, along with "Head to stage right, please." Matty sings Fallingforyou as you wind through the passage that takes you to the other side of the stage, getting ready to come on. You arrive around the middle of the song, as Matty turns to sing to one of the televisions that is now playing the videos of you again. He walks back to the center of the stage after the verse ends, and sings the rest of the song while kneeling, starting up at the sky.

The song ends, and the cheers feel like white noise in the back of your mind.. You inhale. Exhale. It's time. Your name is said in your in-ears, and you walk onto the stage. You tune out the cheers of the crowd as they begin to recognize you from the televisions. You hear the droning start of Inside Your Mind playing as you walk across the stage determinedly.

You avoid looking at everyone on the stage as Matty showed you. You sit on the chair, fixate your gaze in the distance, and Matty begins to sing.

As he sings the first lines he crouches down in front of you and places his hand on your knee. You keep your focus off of him, but you know he is staring right into your eyes. It feels like an itch, the back of your mind whispering to look at him.

After the first verse, he begins to walk around you. As he sings the title, he crouches once more in front of you, and pushes the hair gently off of your forehead. You can hear the noise of the crowd bleeding through your in-ears. You keep your mind focused, counting the beats of the song as you stay still.

As he sings the second verse, he stands to the side of the chair, front to the audience. He first places his hand on your cheek, and you welcome the feeling of his skin against yours. You've rehearsed it enough that it does not shock you anymore, but the butterflies in your stomach still multiply when he wraps his hand in your hair and yanks your head back. You keep your eyes where they were, but your head is nearly pointing upwards. The crowd sounds almost as loud through your in-ears as they did when you had them off.

He keeps his hand in your hair, but as he sings the final verse, he begins to trace a finger lightly across your face. First vertically, down your forehead and bridge of your nose to your chin, placing it under and then pushing it up even further. As he sings the title once more, he traces his finger softly across your forehead, before returning it to the center. He pushes your head back slightly with it, and cradles your head with his hand in your hair. You so desperately want to meet his eyes, but you refuse to indulge in the desires screaming in the recesses of your mind.

The song finishes, and air enters your lungs for what feels like the first time in ages. He brings his hands to his sides, and you robotically stand up and walk off the stage, your character unable to observe him. The second you are out of sight of the crowd, you lean over with your hands on your knees, breathing hard and grinning. You feel like you could cry, thousands of emotions and hormones running through you. You let out a small laugh, and stand back up with a smile wide still wiped your face. You missed this. God, how you missed this. You can't wait to go back out there, itching to be back in front of the crowd even though you just left them.

By the time you regain your focus, Matty is on the roof performing I Like America & It Likes Me. The song leads into About You, with him drunkenly walking low through the door in the center of the stage, illuminated from the inside. You almost feel emotional throughout the performance, stunned by the way Matty can captivate the crowd through the music he creates, even while pretending to be drunk and crouched over.

You are mouthing along to Carly's part in the song when your in-ears remind you to head behind the door, prepping for the upcoming extended sequence of you and Matty. A crew member wishes you good luck as you walk through the halls, and you smile brightly at her.

You wait behind the door waiting as they sing When We Are Together, rocking back and forth on your heels in anticipation. You give the band rounds of mini applauses as they join you backstage one by one, all wishing you good luck as well before you head on. The nerves are gone. All you feel is excitement and anticipation. The song ends, and the fourth movement of Mahler's 5th Symphony begins to play over the speakers.

You know right now that Matty is swaying back and forth in the middle of the stage, dancing as if he is alone. He then will be miming making out with himself, which made you laugh quite hard the first time you saw it. He then will head over to the couch, place on the oxygen mask, and begin to do what earns the show its 12+ age requirement.

"Standby," comes through your in-ears, and you know right now Matty has begun touching himself. (Even if your in ears were off, you would be able to tell by the piercing screams of the crowd you can hear through them.)

You hear, "Go," and you swing the door open. The spotlight hits you, and you can see Matty stopping his movements. He rips off the oxygen mask and slips into the next part of the character. A grin rips across his face.

The music is replaced a Frank Sinatra song from the 40s, sounding as if it is filtered through an old gramophone. You approach him, acting as if you are a couple in a film from the time.

You briefly embrace, and this is when he kisses you. It's not a deep kiss, only an extended peck on the lips, with you moving your head and your arms around his neck to make it appear more in-depth. You've rehearsed it several times, rigidly and clinically. But the heat beneath your skin still erupts, the fireworks beneath your fingertips erupting. You grin against his mouth, and you aren't quite sure how much of your actions are acting. Be professional, you berate yourself.

He pulls back and brings your hand to his mouth to place a kiss on, the two of you the picture of romance. He walks you over to the chair you were sat on previously, and begins to sing All I Need to Hear directly to you.

This time, you don't break eye contact with him once. He puts his hand on your cheek as he did before, but you lean into it heavily, ensuring it its visible to the audience. He sings the latter half crouched on one knee, almost simulating a proposal. You aren't sure if you blink once the whole song, transfixed by his gaze. For a moment you forget about the audience, and it feels like the rehearsals of the two of you alone in the massive arena once again. But the song is nearing the end, and your daydreaming about the two of you alone in there is cut short.

As the audience applauses once he finishes, you stay as still as possible, locking your gaze and your expression. You can hear An Encounter beginning to play, and you know by now the band will have reentered quietly when they were unlit. You can see Matty put on a face of worry and confusion out of your peripherals, and he starts to shake your shoulders. After a brief moment, you snap out of it, acting as if nothing happened. You stand up and grab his hand, beginning to pull him across the stage as Robbers begins to start.

Matty was very particular about this song in rehearsals, knowing that there are fans who know the video so well, they would catch them if even a single move was off. You spent the largest portion of your rehearsal time painstakingly memorizing the movements of part of the video he wanted you to recreate, ensuring they were timed perfectly with the song.

Matty gets up on the table, leaning over to sing close to your face. He sticks the fake cigarette that is just for this scene in your mouth, and throws his head back as the initial guitar riff plays. You pretend to stub it out on the side of the table and throw it away.

He leans in close for the first line, and you know he is counting in his head to make sure the timing is right. You tried to tell him you did not need to be that accurate, but he told you that he would be "flamed on Twitter if he fucked even one bit up," because "all of his fans are mental," which made you laugh. You smile brightly at each other at the specific time, which is followed by him standing back up slightly. Once he leans back in shortly after, he taps the microphone against your lower lip. Your stomach does somersaults as the crowd roars. He sticks his hands out to the sides, posing like a deity above you as you watch, kneeling like a devotee beneath him.

He leans back down before the last line of the verse, and you kiss once more after. This time, its not a peck, or a small kiss. He kisses you forcefully, and you greedily reciprocate. You can't even hear the audience any more, all you can think about is his lips on yours, his curls brushing against your face.

He leans back and you try to ignore the emotions running through you, the desperate need to kiss him again, kiss him harder. He watches you as he continues to sing, and you swear his eyes flicker down briefly to your lips.

He runs his finger down your face at the right moment, and then sings the rest of the verse while switching between standing taller and kneeling down to you. He looks at you less and less as the bridge approaches, and you know your cue is nearing.

Once he sings the word wrong, you freeze once more. Matty has hopped off the table, singing the rest of the song to both the stage and the crowd. You stay in place, focusing on keeping your face and eyes locked in position.

The song ends, and Matty breaks out of his simulated moment of distraction. He turns back to you as your hear Mahler's 5th Symphony start up once more. He runs towards you, and you know he is pretending to be confused once more, even though you cannot look directly at him.

He shakes your shoulders as he did earlier, but this time he is unsuccessful in snapping you out of whatever trance you are in. In the corner of your eyes, you can see the televisions beginning to flash, brightly flicking between the news images from earlier in the show.

Matty gives up trying to wake you up, and begins to pace stressfully around the stage. Your back is to him, but you know now is when he runs towards the stage left television, knocking aggressively on the screen as if it is a door.

He will quickly give up, and then run back towards the center stage television. The lights on the stage have begun flickering, indicating that now he is gripping both sides of the television, staring at the videos being shown. You stay frozen, kneeling at starting at the sky with a grin plastered on your face.

The flashing increases, and as the crowd screams, you know Matty must be climbing into the television. Now it is you on the stage, alone and frozen.

You hear a change in the music, and count to five in your head. The lights flash brightly once more, and suddenly the stage is bathed in darkness.

You run off stage. The cheers follow you, and you bring your hand to your mouth as you feel yourself choking up. Your blood is pumping, heart beating rapidly against your chest. The stage lights that once lived only in your mind have left your vision still slightly blinded. You are so, so happy. —

You watch the rest of the show from the same lower backstage area, eagerly watching Matty finally shed the character and perform how he seemingly was born to. Various people backstage compliment your performance, and you feel the happiness radiating off you for the rest of the show. Matty and the band give it their all, putting on one of the best shows you've ever seen in the second half. You can't take your eyes off him, magnetic and all-powerful with a microphone in his hand.

The second Matty comes off stage, he runs to you and slams into your arms in an embrace. You hug him back tightly. You are both sweaty and exhausted, but it doesn't matter. He squeezes you tighter and lifts you off the ground slightly, spinning you around in a circle. You let out a shocked laugh. "Matty!" you shriek. The grin on your face is enormous.

He puts you down, but does not let go. He buries his face into your neck, and you can feel his breath against your pulse point.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you," he repeats, mumbling against your skin.

"For what?" you let out a tired laugh.

"The show was perfect, it was everything I wanted, I planned out, and so much more. And that's all because of you, darling. You're a force of nature up there, god. I'm so lucky I found you. This was all you." He tightens his arms around your waist, and you can't remember a moment you felt this happy. You smile into his neck, heart pounding.

And that's when you know that you are completely and utterly screwed.

—

a/n: apologies to anyone who is an intimacy coordinator because i know this is So So inaccurate but pls just bear with me this is fanfic okay we are not here for rigid accuracy to strict industry rules these freaks need to be freaky somehow. poem is all i want by joni mitchell. this the dress i was thinking of if anyone is curious. shoutout to i <3 concerts on youtube who taped the whole uncasville show

tell me what you guys thiiiiiiink ily all

#she’s a doozy #matty healy #pitn #matty healy x reader #matty healy fanfic #the 1975 #matty healy fic #matty

109 notes · View notes

sxffrxn · 8 months

Text

When love strikes OP81

An Oscar Piastri x reader, enemies to lovers story

Part One Part Two

Summary: Oscar Piastri and Y/N L/N have a long-lasting feud, nobody knows why. Do they themselves know why?

Warnings: swearing, Oscar and Y/N literally act like children, grammar mistakes, messy

Word Count: 1.4k

Arriving back at home was like a blessing from the Gods. As soon as Y/N stepped foot in her apartment, her coat was thrown off as she leaped onto her bed, luggage forgotten. That night, she had the best sleep she had in a very long time, despite still being in her travelling clothes.

When she woke up and checked her phone she found her instagram was blowing up. Panic coursed itself through her body. Was she cancelled online? Has someone made up some bullshit to spread about her?

But, alas, it was her interview. It had gone viral. Some people were speculating about Oscar and Y/N’s relationship, and some had compiled an entire 30 minute video of the pair being downright unpleasant to each other. Although Y/N did in fact watch the whole video - in 3x speed, she wasn’t watching a 30 minute long video - she has to admit some of these were a stretch, I mean there was one scene where they simply walked past each other, opposite sides of the walkway may I add.

Both Lamborghini and Mclaren’s PR teams were going to have a field day with this one.

About an hour later, Y/N got a call from her assistant, Gemma,

“What have you done Y/N, the internet is in shambles!” she started.

“No, Hi how are you? Are you well rested? Why yes I am thank you for asking.” Y/N replied.

“Y/N I don’t think you understand the severity of this. We have had Mclaren on the phone all morning trying to sort this mess out.”

“Gem, I replied the way I was supposed to, I can’t think of another way I could have handled that without it turning into a brawl!” Y/N answered in a less polite tone than she should have used.

“Y/N” she started, “I know you handled it the best way you could. I’m sorry this is just so stressful. I don't know how to say this..”

“Say what? Surely it's not that bad. I mean they’re not kicking me off the team are they? I’ve only done one race an-“ she was cut off by Gemma again.

“They want you to act as though you are civil. Friends even. And I’m not talking, not sending glares at the other. I mean they want you to do all sorts of things with him.” Y/N’s heart dropped, she could not do this. Did this tiny altercation have to resort to this? No. But was Y/N a petty bitch? Abso-fucking-lutely.

“Gem, I’m not pretending to date him or anything like that, I’ve read a lot of books with that in and I hate it.”

“No, Y/N, you do not have to pretend to date Oscar Piastri,” she let out a sigh of relief, “You will, however, have to go to many events with him to show you guys are really just friends off track and rivals on.”

“Ughhhhh. Do I have to? Like what’s the significance of this?” Y/N tried to bargain.

“The significance is,” Gemma started, “not fucking up the internet more than you have - and yes, again, I know it’s not your fault for the interviewer’s question but we need to uphold the reputation of this team. Unfortunately women are always the problem in the media’s eyes.”

Y/N sighed rolling around on her bed and taking a big sip of water,

“Fine, but don’t expect me to apologise to anyone for anything. I hardly did anything wrong!” Maybe the last part was a little fib but Y/N stood her ground.

—

It was media day for the Saudi Arabian grand prix. Y/N sat in her hotel room completing a round of sudoku on her phone - her newest favourite past-time. She was waiting for a knock at her door from Gemma to explain the plan of action for today. Today commenced the ‘sort shit out with Oscar bloody Piastri’ plan, she was given minute details about how they would be miraculously saving each of their reputations. I mean, Y/N could hardly see the problem with rivalry on track, I mean look at Pierre Gasly and Esteban Ocon, they had some issues - Y/N thinks so anyway - and nobody batted an eye, well I guess they weren’t as hostile with each other as Piastri and Y/N are.

A knock resounded through Y/N hotel room.

“Coming!” she went to the door and was met with the smiley face of Gemma,

“Gem you’re,” she checked her watch, “20 minutes early!”

“Yet you are all ready, what happened to ‘Little Miss constantly 10 minutes late’?” Gemma responded.

“Shitting bricks Gem.” Y/N patted Gemma on the back as she stepped out of her room and locked the door, “Let’s get this over and done with, yeah?”

Gemma filled Y/N in on the plan for the start of the day, Y/N would meet Oscar in the foyer of the hotel, have a few laughs and then head to the paddock, they would re-evaluate from there.

Y/N could feel herself gagging as she stepped into the main entrance, yes she was being very dramatic, but this was more stressful than telling her mum she had forgotten to take the chicken out of the freezer to defrost when specifically asked to. Oscar turned and scowled as Y/N walked up to him, this was going to be way harder than he thought. Gemma gave Y/N a firm pat on the back to usher her towards the aussie. They had fake paparazzi stationed just outside the hotel to get the best angles of their positive encounter. When Y/N felt a hand on her back, it was like a switch had been flicked and she grinned at Oscar as though they were best friends, she really channelled the 9 in her drama GCSE for this one moment.

She waved at Oscar as she got closer and he got the memo to sort himself out and act. They began walking out the door and to the shared car they would be taking (Y/N screamed into her hands and nearly punched a hole in the lift door when she found out they'd be car sharing), Oscar opened the door for Y/N to climb into the back seat before he got in. Both Oscar and Y/N had practically begged Gemma to be the peacekeeper and sit between them, but she claimed that she ‘needed to sit in the front because she gets motion sickness’ Y/N called out her shit and said that they had spent millions of car rides together in the back.

It was hard to not grab Oscar by the throat and throttle him into next week but Y/N kept her composure - and kept her hands to herself. It was almost peaceful at first, if you ignore the massive amounts of tension between the two, but that all soon changed as soon as Oscar opened his mouth,

“Do you know how long the car ride is?” he asked, directed to literally anyone in the car who could give him an answer.

“Longer than your F1 debut race” Y/N muttered under her breath, she did mean for him to hear it as she thought it was a pretty good joke. Turns out, it's probably not best to joke about race finishes - in this case, race not finishes - with someone who despises you.

“What the fuck, that’s not funny” he said turning to her.

Y/N stayed staring at her phone but let out a little giggle at his response. Oscar huffed and practically threw himself back into his seat.

“It’s about a 45 minute drive, Oscar” The driver, Kim (also Oscar’s performance coach) answered for him.

‘45 minutes with this bellend’ Y/N said in her mind before rolling her eyes and rotating her phone to watch a show on Netflix.

Oscar was in the same boat ‘No fucking way am I spending 45 minutes with her’ he thought to himself.

A loud ding sound echoed through the back of the car,

“Are you playing sudoku? What are you a fucking child?” Oscar commented. Y/N just scowled at him and stuck her tongue out. Oscar gave her a pointed look, then she realised, huffed, and pushed herself further into her seat.

This was going to be one hell of a car ride.

A/N: Hey guys sorry for the late update, I didn’t drop off the face of the earth. I’ve been so stressed out with schoolwork recently so updates will be scarce 😬 Thank you guys for all the support on the first part I literally love you all!!! Still working out the ropes to tumblr but i promise I will get there in the end.

Taglist: @chiliwhore (comment or lmk to be added i guess!!)

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #fanfic #formula one x reader #formula one #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x self insert #oscar piastri x y/n #oscarpiastri81 #reader x oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #sxffrxn

233 notes · View notes

seospicybin · 1 year

Text

ONE CLICK.

Han x reader. (s)

Synopsis: Han has a habit of stalking you online and wishes to get to know you in real life. He finally gets his wish after one night of accidentally sliding into your DM. (8,6k words)

Author's note: a big thank you to my baby @hyunee1 for helping me with this fic. Love you much much 😘

Click.

That's how Han usually ends his tough day of busy schedules, sitting on his bed with the bluish glow of his phone in his dark bedroom, clicking on everything about you.

His eyes move up and down trying to catch the speed of his finger scrolling the page of your Instagram, there's a new series of pictures you posted this afternoon. He guesses he missed the notification, and he automatically double-taps it without thinking, as he always does.

He swipes to see all the pictures of you having a day out in sunny weather, a picture of your lipstick mark on your coffee mug, your hand petting a puppy, of you looking out at the mountain view in distance, another two of your self-portraits of that cute smile he likes so much and on the last slide is a picture of a colorful kite against the clear blue sky.

The caption says ''you’re a kite that toys with my heartstrings."

Han recognizes the lyrics to a song, he goes to the comment box then types the continuation of the lyrics, "but it won’t fly cause I’m too fickle, what do I do?"

He hits send and smiles in satisfaction, knowing that you wouldn't recognize him since he's using a secondary account with a made-up name, he can't be too careful in this kind of thing.

He swipes the pictures to the second slide of your selfie, where he can see the crinkles in your eyes that get him wondering if you're just as beautiful in real life or more, he bets it's the latter.

He unconsciously double-taps the Instagram post again, it's already in his default he believes.

He moves on to the other social media you have, Twitter, to see if you share any TMI for today just like you always do. A piece of information that seems to be useless to everyone else is a piece of treasure for him, it’s a step closer to getting to know you better.

"I'm having plums after a long time, they're so sweet and I think it's my new favorite fruit."

You posted the tweet along with a picture of ripe-looking plums in a bowl and another one of you holding the fruit close to your cheek, he can see the resemblance in the way the color of the fruit matches the blush of your cheeks.

Gah! He wishes he can touch those cheeks and feel how soft they are, he's going a little crazy thinking if he could kiss them. He laughs for making himself flustered out of the blue, not to add alone in his bedroom.

He hits the like button and switches to your fan account to check new updates about you, he trusts the information he get from your fans rather than the ones he can easily access on the internet because they're mostly clickbait or fake news, he knows that better than anyone.

There are new photos of you attending a fashion event, you in that white dress with a high slit on the side, revealing just enough skin but at the same time, making him want more.

He zooms in on each picture and touches the phone screen like he could feel you physically by doing it, something is undeniably attractive about you that keeps pulling him in.

Sometimes he wonders if you're real and if you are, is it possible for him to reach you? Meeting you? Talk to you? See your cute smile with his own eyes?

To convince him that you're real, he exits Twitter to access another app.

Truthfully, he specifically made an account for stalking you on whatever social platform you have on the internet, it's the only time he's free to be his honest self, which is a fool for you.

He opens YouTube and one of your vlogs is making an appearance on his homepage, he goes to your channel to see if he missed any new uploads from you. The last one you uploaded is a week ago, he scrolls down to watch the one he always comes back to, the one that kickstarts this obsession of you.

There was nothing special about it, he stumbled on your vlog one day and he didn't know why but he watched it to the end, it somehow fascinated him, how you slowly lured him to keep on watching

There's just something about you, it's your bubbly personality or how you keep your attitude real and let everyone knows it's just how you usually act in real life.

Han met so many people in the industry he works in, he knows when someone is true or fake, and he can tell it now just from a glance.

But you, you're your authentic self, there's no pretense. He doesn't care if people say it's a biased view but he stands his ground.

He casts the video to his TV and hits the play button, the vlog starts with the opening sound that he recognizes too well, your laugh.

You went for a weekend away to a beach and the opening scene is of you waking up in the middle of the night, talking about how you like hearing the sound of the waves while clutching the blanket close to your chest.

It makes him daydream about you a lot, what it's like if he gets to lay next to you and cuddle you under the cover. It’s a wishful thinking but he can't help himself.

The scene changes to the view of the beach and you running around in the sand, there's one scene that he can vividly play in the back of his head without watching it. You look out at the sea from the pier, the wind blowing your way and the short skirt you're wearing swaying away with the wind.

He has a thing with you in short skirts or maybe this thing started from seeing you wearing this specific piece of clothing a lot in your pictures.

He keeps it to himself, he only allows himself to daydream only good things about you and doesn't want to ruin it with his lewd thoughts

Next thing he knows, he waves back at you as you waved your hand at the end of the video before it cuts to a black screen. Fourteen minutes of video is not enough.

Frankly, admiring you virtually like this will never be enough, he wants to go to you and meets you in real life.

But a man like him can only dream, right?

He wakes up with a smile to a new notification of your new Instagram story.

You're having coffee with a few different kinds of pastries for breakfast.

"I love sweets so much, what should I do?" You wrote on the post.

He types a reply in the message box,

"Then let me buy as much sweet as you want!" He writes then presses send without the slightest of hesitancy. He had done it a few times, responding to your Instagram stories with messages like that or just a simple 'goodnight' or 'you've worked hard today' to show his admiration to you.

Han never knew that someone he knew through social media would affect him this much, just seeing your pictures is enough to take his mind off things, and watching your video is how he unwinds after a tiring day.

It comes to the point that he misses you and when he does, he'll click on you.

On good or bad days, sober or drunk, he always finds time to click on everything about you.

In fact, he's drunk of out his mind when got home tonight. He crashes onto the bed without taking his shoes off first, fishing his phone out of his jeans pocket, and clicks on you again.

There's a new Instagram post from you, three pictures of you having a night out at an event and it's just like you know how much he likes seeing you in it, you're dressed in a leather mini skirt and paired it with a flimsy white top that people can see through the fabric, exposing the lacey corset you're wearing under.

He keeps hitting the like button as he's staring at your pictures.

"Are you wearing that skirt for me, baby?" He speaks to his phone screen.

He brings his phone close to his face to take a closer look instead of zooming in on your pictures, "you drive me crazy, you know that?"

He puts his phone on his chest and lays there with his eyes closed, intoxicated.

"Fuck..." he sighs at the dark of his room, forgot to turn the lights on the way to his bed.

"I can't take this anymore!"

He lifts his phone and clicks on your Instagram profile, he opens the direct messages he sent to you which come to no surprise to him are left unread.

He snorts as he scrolls up and down all the messages he sent to you, he sounded like a love fool and he admits he is.

"I'll let you know, baby, I'll let you know..." he says as he starts typing new messages, pouring out all of his thoughts and letting them unfiltered.

All it takes is just one click, one click and you'll know.

Han has been chugging water nonstop the whole morning to wash the alcohol in his system.

He has a schedule today, a performance at an award show and he's sober enough to do his job, he's just feeling a little queasy, that's it.

It's not easy though, he feels like dying after finishing rehearsal and he swears to never drink again, maybe he'll eventually do but maybe not try not to drink alcohol the night before a performance.

The other members start chattering when they bump into someone after getting off the stage from rehearsal, he wonders who it is that makes them all collectively swoon.

He feels like shrinking when he sees that it's you or he wishes he could shrink into a microscopic size when he realized that he's not well presented, his hair is sweaty and his eyes are bleary, the hangover drawn on his face.

And you, you're looking nice even in the casual attire of blue jeans and a black shirt with your hair down.

This is not how he pictured meeting you for the first time would be like. Heck! He didn't even dare to dream of meeting you in real life.

He decides to hide behind his members, out of your sight and out of existence. He hears your voice as you give encouragement for today's stage and excuse yourself to get to your rehearsal.

"Good luck for today!" You say for the last time and someone takes you away.

Back to the waiting room, he goes to his phone and opens your fan account, he misses the update about you going to attend the same show with him tonight.

You also post a new Instagram story, 'rehearsing for tonight' you wrote on it along with a smiling emoticon.

It's like he is programmed to respond to anything you post, he types an encouragement for you, 'you'll do well tonight!'

He closes the app but for a second, he notices something on the messages he sent you. He reopens the app and goes through the DM between you and him, his breath caught in his throat when he sees the long messages he sent to you last night.

His eyes skim over some parts but he can tell how inappropriate they sound, he must have lost it last night to ever let you know his unfiltered thoughts about you.

And that's not the worst of it all, he scrolls down to the last message he sent, and below it, there's a little sign that says 'seen'.

It's like his soul has just left his body at that very second, his phone drops onto his lap and he leans back on the sofa, empty eyes looking at the ceiling, his mind blanks, and his mouth got dry.

How are all of these happening in a span of a few hours? Is it real? Is he in a dream? He can't tell which is which anymore.

All he thinks about is the messages he sent you and the fact that you know.

Now you know.

Han succeeds in not meeting you again during the show but when he learns that they have to attend the after-party, he dreads his life again.

It's exclusive just for the guests of the show and that means he'll be in a smaller place, in one room with you and the possibility of meeting you is bigger.

He keeps himself on alert for any sight of you, it's funny remembering how he wanted to meet you but now he wanted the opposite.

He shouldn't be afraid because he interacts with you online in incognito. You don't know that it's him, you probably think that it's just a stupid teenager who's obsessing over you at home and not him.

He keeps reminding himself that but he just can't calm himself down, his foot bouncing the whole night out of nerves.

He secludes himself in a quiet corner of the hotel ballroom and gulps down every glass of champagne that the server passing around on a tray.

He's buzzed enough to dull his mind and calm his nerves, he doesn't know if it's better to get drunk again.

"You need one more?"

He almost jumps in shock and he's aware of how rude he is for reacting like that to you, you come out of nowhere and offer him a drink.

"I'm sorry, I-I..." his mouth got dry again and he stammers his words.

You softly laugh, "I'm sorry if I disturb you," you say.

He hurriedly takes the glass of champagne you offer him before you think that you did intrude on his space, you didn't but he did been trying to avoid you.

He grips the champagne flute so hard that he swears he can hear the glass starts to crack or it's just his imagination and he's right, he knows he's right that you're much prettier in person.

Your eyes crinkle even in the dim of lights and you smell so nice, like a slice of cake or of that dessert you like so much, creamy and nice and... sweet.

You take a small sip of your champagne, "I've been wanting to talk to you the whole night," you begin.

The fear starts to creep in again and he can feel sweat forming on his back. He keeps swallowing air as if trying to keep the truth from coming out.

"It's just now that I get to talk to you," you continue with a smile.

That sweet smile dazzles him and he blinks his eyes a few times to imprint that in his mind.

"I wanted to—"

Oh no? Do you know that it's him? Should he come clean about it before you lay out the fact?

His foot bounced faster, his mouth got drier and the champagne flute is about to shatter in his grip, the beads of cold sweat rolling down his back and...

"I'm sorry I sent you those messages!" He blurts out with his eyes closed, too embarrassed about the reality he has to live in right now.

"Huh?"

"I was drunk... I-I wasn't thinking straight, I was... I didn't know why I send those messages, I only realized it this afternoon after meeting you during rehearsal," he starts blabbering, knowing well his excuses won't cut for an apology but it's just the truth.

He heavily sighs and tries again, "I deeply, deeply apologize to you!" His face drops, looking down at his feet and feeling so frustrated over himself.

You got quiet for a while then clear your throat, "but I was about to say that I like all of the songs you wrote..." your words trail off as the knowledge registered to you.

He looks up at you with eyes widening in pure shock, oh no, he just made a fool of himself. Why did he crack so easily like that?

He knew that you wouldn't know but now you know because he blurted the truth like that.

"W-what?" He stutters in disbelief while his hand groping around to find something he can hold on to.

You probably think that he's a weirdo or a pervert or a combination of both. You must be disgusted by him, right? You must be...

Then you crack a laugh then say, "oh, so it's you?"

His brain is malfunctioning, he's losing control of his own body and all he can do is stare at you, hoping that he's invisible to you now.

"You're the one who sent me those messages," you say but in an intrigued kind of way rather than a disgusted one.

You put your champagne glass and place your hand on your chest, cracking another laugh at him, "you're one of my followers?" You ask in disbelief.

He is unable to speak yet but he manages to order his body to nod.

"Oh wow, this is so... unexpected!" You exclaim with a grin.

Wait, this reaction is unexpected to him as well. Aren't you supposed to be getting as far away from him as possible and wish to never see him again?

You take your champagne again and finish it in one long sip then gasp. There's a silence going on for a few seconds and you take a step closer to him while holding the empty wine glass in your hand, "so..."

His breath hitched and he holds his breath, afraid that the scent of your sweet perfume will enchant him.

"It was you who sent those messages?" You ask for confirmation.

Han nods repeatedly while keep holding his breath as if he's underwater.

You look away and sheepishly smile, your teeth faintly biting your lower lip.

He's turning blue from holding his breath and when you put the empty glass away is when he finally lets himself breathe. He should start speaking now before things get worse, "I apologize for—"

"Will you really do all that to me?" You cut him off with a provoking question.

He blinks his eyes, nonplussed. He has the answer but he's not sure you will accept it well.

"Buy you as much sweet as you want?" He wildly guesses to save him from making another mistake.

You laugh again from hearing his response, "you're really cute," you say to him.

One compliment is enough to get him flustered and that laugh of yours charms him well, it works to relax him a little.

"Do you have your phone with you?" You ask.

Just like you cast a spell at him, he quickly obeys you, groping his body for his phone, and takes it out from the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

You take it from him and add your phone number to his contacts, then hand it back to him after.

"You have my number now," you inform him.

"Okay," he shortly replies because he doesn't know how to answer that. His brain is still malfunctioning at the moment.

You laugh again, it's just how clueless he is at the whole situation that makes him awkwardly cute like a lost little puppy.

Your manager finds you at the right time, "we have to leave," she says to you.

"Alright," you answer and gather your purse from the table.

You stay for a while after your manager leaves and come up to him, "before we do anything else I hope you know what to do with my number," you say.

You leave him there, star-struck and in awe.

He needs time to process what just happened to him in the last 24 hours but he knows what to do with your number.

"A+ for the eagerness!"

You say the moment you pick up the phone call from him.

Han doesn't want to play cool and make you wait, that's not what he wants. You know how much of a fool he is for you so what the use in playing hard-to-get? Plus, he's in no position to do that.

That's why he calls you as soon as he gets some privacy in his home.

He's all relaxed now that your reaction is far from what he pictured in his head, knowing that you're not grossed out by his filthy thoughts making him feel at ease.

He thinks of something cool to say but his head is empty except for the heavenly smell of your perfume.

"Hi," he awkwardly says to the phone.

Then there's that giggle again, he's addicted to the sound of it already.

"I'll be away for three days and be back on Thursday but I'll be tired by then so Friday?"

It's not that he's not experienced in dating, he dated someone before but that was a long time ago and he didn't have time to do all that again between his busy schedules, now he's just as inexperienced as his teen self, having zero ideas with what you meant by that.

"Friday?" He asks back in confusion.

"Before you get to do what you wanted to do to me, shouldn't you take me on a date first?" You give him a clearer context.

He finally gets what you're saying, you want him to take you on a date. He tries to memorize his schedule and checks the calendar if he has anything on that day, he needs to do some work in the studio but he believes he can finish it earlier.

"Friday afternoon?" He asks again.

There are a few seconds of silence going then he hears a rustle from your end, he's imagining that you're talking to him on the phone while lying on your bed.

"Friday afternoon is fine with me," you finally reply with a low sigh.

It makes him feel like he's there with you, lying next to you on your bed. Without he intends to, he lays down on his bed with his eyes closed, and with the sound of your low breathing he's listening through the phone, it helps him paint the imagery vividly in his head.

Your eyes, your smile, your blushing cheeks, and your sweet-smelling perfume...

"I have to go now, I'm tired," You cut through the scene and shatter his imagination.

He takes a breath to knock some sense back into him that no matter how much he wants to keep talking to you, he can't keep you occupied just to fill his selfish need of hearing your voice.

"Okay."

You softly sigh into the phone, "Goodnight!"

"Sleep well, goodnight!" He says back.

Then you hang up the phone and the call-ending tune reels him back to the reality, that he's alone in his room with the lights off.

That doesn't change the fact that he has become the last person you're talking to before you go to sleep. He's not sure if he'd be in your dream but you'll be in his tonight.

Han finishes as soon as he can.

But he's not good at rushing things that he finished a bit longer than he intended to, he picks up some food on the way.

He doesn't want to risk being spotted by people by having a date out, he hesitated a lot when he asks you if it's okay if you're coming to his place instead.

He doesn't want to give the impression that he's forward about what he wants, but he's glad you understand his good intention.

He stares out at the rain outside as he's waiting, letting the coffee grounds sit for a few seconds after he pours hot water over and let it drip.

The sounds of the raindrops pattering against the window and the smell of coffee relaxed him, despite he has been nervous since last night, frankly though, he has been for the last few days since he spoke with you on the phone.

Then the doorbell rings and his heart skip a beat.

He gathers all of his senses, promised to not make a fool out of himself this time, then opens the door.

"Hi!" You say the second you appear in front of him.

It still feels like a dream to him, seeing you in flesh and with his own eyes, breathing the same air with you in his apartment.

"Aren't you going to let me in?"

He snaps himself out of his daze and opens the door wider, stepping aside to let you in, "come in, please!"

You flash him a smile as you walk past him, letting yourself into his apartment and taking a look around the place. You put your purse and take your cardigan off, place them on the sofa.

"You live alone?" You ask.

"Yeah," he stands there a safe distance away from you.

"No pets?"

"I have a dog but he lives with my parents since I rarely home," he answers.

You nod and turn around to see him, "it's a nice place," you say with a smile.

He feels good about himself, he did a good job at tidying up the things around his place in one night. He hides his triumphant smile and remembers to offer you a drink.

"Coffee?" He offers.

You notice that he's been brewing coffee in the kitchen, "yes, please!"

He walks to the kitchen, "with ice or...?"

"With ice, yes!" You reply.

You're following him to the kitchen to watch him prepare an iced coffee for you.

"Drip coffee?"

He sheepishly smiles at you for noticing it, putting ice cubes into the glass before pouring in the coffee.

"And that's the same coffee I always drink," you say with a raised eyebrow.

Han doesn't mean to show off, he just wanted to make sure that he provides you with everything that you like. Your favorite coffee brand and how you like drip coffee which reminds him that he bought that sweet you like so much.

He takes it out of the fridge and takes out the box of macaroons, he bought all the flavors you like and serves it with the iced coffee.

You look at it then look at him and shot him an impressed smile.

"Of course you know," you say with a smile as you take a sip of your coffee with a straw.

Flustered, Han scratches the back of his head and looks down, "the store happened to be on my way home so..." he vaguely explains.

"As far as I remember, they don't have any branch near here nor your agency," you casually say.

Uh oh! He just got caught lying to your face and doesn't know how to save himself from it.

"That's so sweet of you!" You praise him out of the blue, again giving him the opposite reaction to what he expected.

He looks up at you, finally able to see your eyes to eyes and you're glowing under the fluorescent light. He sees you taking one of the macaroons.

"You should try it, it's good!" You bring the macaroon close to his mouth and tell him to take a bite.

He slowly opens his mouth and lets you feed it to him, taking a little bite of it

"It's good, right?" You say, then shove the rest of the macaroon he just bites into your mouth.

"So good," he says back.

With the permission you got from him, you continue the tour around his house, exploring the rooms one by one.

It's his bedroom you're curious about the most while Han holds his breath as you get inside, he doesn't know what makes him this nervous.

He watches as you approach his desk, you must be aware of the mess on his desk, he was working on something last night and forgot to tidy up after.

"Are you working on something?" You ask, standing next to his desk and playing with an action figure from his collection.

"Yeah, I was working on a track," he answers with his hands gripping the headrest of the chair.

"Can I have a listen?" You ask.

He likes how you sweetly ask for permission for everything like a little child.

"I understand if you can't," you add as you put down the mini figurine back on his desk.

"No, of course, you can, let me just..." he quickly sits on the chair and searches for the track he worked on until late at night on his laptop.

Once he found it, he hands you the headphone.

"It's not finished yet," he informs you before hitting the play button.

Your eyes are looking at him for the whole minute you're listening to his unfinished track, a faint smile appears once in a while, and slightly bob your head here and there.

"I like this," you say, handing him the headphones back.

"Yeah?"

"I think I have a thing for every song you wrote," you say then turning away to move on to the next room.

His room is spacious but why it suddenly feels so small to him, not in the most suffocating way but he feels drawn to get close to you.

He hears your gasp as you step into his closet, he follows you there and sees you standing in the middle of the room.

You look over your shoulder and say, "And here I thought I have too many shoes!"

Han sheepishly smiles and stands by the doorway, watching you look at his shoe collection, then look at his clothes hanging on the other side of the wall.

You pull out one of his jackets and ask, "may I try?"

And how can he refuse when you ask sweetly like that?

"Sure!"

You take the jacket from the hanger and put it on, walking to the full-length mirror to see how it looks on you.

"What do you think?" You ask for his opinion while looking at his reflection in the mirror.

To be honest, you look good in everything but seeing you in his clothes makes you look more appealing, more alluring he wants you more and more and more.

He clears his throat and pushes the thought away, "you look cool!"

There goes your giggle, his new favorite sound and you put the jacket back on its hanger, putting it back where it belongs.

"Then what about the skirt I wear?" You ask.

His eyes instantly shift to the skirt you're wearing, it's plaid in the colors red and black. It's short and tight, he likes how it accentuates your curve and how it looks on you.

You're coming toward him in slow steps and stop right in front of him, "didn't you say you like seeing me in a short skirt?"

He wonders if you can hear his heart drumming in his chest because he can hear it loud in his ears, deafening.

You're not making a contact with him but his body's temperature is already rising from the proximity.

And your eyes are on him with a subtle sly smile on your face.

You turn around with your back facing him and take his hands, placing them on each side of your hip.

Han looks straight ahead, at both of your reflections in the mirror, and damn, he looks like he belongs there, right next to you.

You catch his eyes through the reflection before sliding his hands down to let him touch the hem of your skirt.

"I'm wearing this for you," you say, still looking at him through the mirror.

Everything else is just so quiet at that moment that he thought you were whispering.

His eyes lower to where his hands touch your skirt and without warning, you pull him closer until his chest meets your back.

Looking over your shoulder with your face merely inches away from his, "do you like it?" You ask.

He swallows hard and tries to think of something to say even though the answer is obvious.

Your head leans back on his shoulder, leaving only an inch between your lips and his.

"I'm wearing this so you can do what you wanted to do to me," you say with your sweet breath brushing his cheek as you speak.

He recalls the messages he sent to you on that one drunken night when he spilled all of his unfiltered thoughts of you.

How do you know I like seeing you in tight, little skirts?

I can't think straight whenever I see you in them. You want me to get in trouble, do you?

His eyes flick back to the reflection of you together and his hands are on you, your hand guiding his going under that he can feel the warm flesh of your thigh.

I take it that whenever you're wearing that tiny skirt you want me to cause a trouble.

And he's holding on to every last shred of sense left in him to not cause trouble. But you make his hand pull the hem of your skirt higher, exposing your thigh and the smooth skin that glows even in the dim light.

Do you want to know what trouble I'll cause?

Just one touch on your silky skin and it's enough to make him give in, he splays his hand on your thigh with your hand on top of his.

I'll touch you there, baby. Lift the hem of your skirt bit by bit, then I'll touch your thighs and that soft skin of yours.

Your skin is warm under his touch and it's getting hot as his hand inches closer to that heavenly thing between your legs.

But he stops once his fingers meet the lacey fabric of your underwear, he might be drunk that night but he remembers everything he wrote that night in the back of his head like the lyrics of his favorite song.

And you think I'll touch you there with my hands? No, baby. My hands may be impatient but my mouth is greedy.

His greedy mouth is getting impatient as well, those red-painted lips tantalize him and so he kisses you. It's even better that you welcomed his kiss with such eagerness, a burst of sweet and hot like a birthday cake with so many candles, he wants to blow on it and eat it too.

His hands are moving on their own, tracing the sides of your body and squeezing your flesh, every touch is a reminder that you're real, this is real.

For a second, he glances at the mirror to assure him that he's not seeing things, he's kissing you with his hands all over you.

You turn around to face him and put your hands around his neck, your red lipstick is fading from his hungry kisses but it doesn't make you less attractive to him.

He lowers his mouth on you again and holds you close, slowly lifting you off the floor to carry you back to his bedroom.

Once he puts you back down, you're walking backward then lying down on the bed.

Han is standing there, watching you waiting for him to let him do what he has been fantasizing about you and your body.

I'll touch you there with my mouth. I'll bury my head between your legs and smell you forever, get myself drunk in your scent.

He kneels on the floor so close to the edge of the bed and parts your legs open, he can see the flimsy fabric of your underwear that covers so little.

How can you wear something so provocative under your skirt?

His eyes are on you as he places a soft kiss on your inner thigh, he begins making a trail of kisses from there until his mouth lands where he wanted the most, he believes that's where you wanted him the most as he feels the fabric is damp from your wetness.

He rolls down the hem of your skirt until it hunches up around your waist so you can see how he doesn't hesitate to kiss your clothed core then buries his nose to inhale your scent.

I wonder what you smell like? I bet your smell will get me drooling like a kid at a candy shop. All I know is I'll crave a lick, a bite, I won't stop until I get enough taste.

This craving is growing bigger the longer he stalls, he pulls your underwear down and takes a sniff at it before tossing it aside. There's nothing like drinking water right from the fountain and he's getting thirsty with every passing second.

You make one sweet cake, baby and I'll eat you out like it's my birthday. I'll lick the icing off, gobble on you until I get to that sweet, sweet filling, and lick my fingers clean when I'm done.

And it feels like his birthday, he's not the type to celebrate it every year but he certainly like how it's all about him on that particular day and he wants to make you remember how he enjoys eating you out, from the way you tug at his hair he can tell that you enjoy it too.

"Oh— oh, fuck!" You mutter under your breath with your other hand fisting the bedsheet.

The way you arch your back against his mouth tells him you want more of it, you want him to leave nothing but how his mouth feels on you.

Oh, those soft whimpers you let out as you cum with his tongue on your clit, it feels like the confetti pops and rains down on him.

Your essence floods his mouth and he smears it all over your cunt with his fingers, so he can lick it all over with his tongue.

You prop your elbow against the mattress, look at him and ask, "How'd it taste?"

He shoves his fingers coated with your juice in response.

I always have the dessert first and that's how I like it, sweet and creamy, full of a burst of flavors.

He crawls over your body to come to you, kissing you down and planting the natural scent of your body all over his bed, pieces of clothing are off from each other's bodies.

You take a second to look at his body, the muscles on his chest, his broad shoulders, and his impeccable small waist, it's nothing like you've seen before but somehow you like it, he has his own charms.

He looks down on you as you place soft yet searing kisses on his neck and chest, closing his eyes to take it all in, how your lips feel on his skin.

"Fuck, I'm going crazy," he says, holding your face in his hands.

"But we're only halfway there," you say with a sly smile, then turn over on the bed, on all fours with your ass jutting up at him.

That skirt is what starts all this, that skirt is the cause of all this trouble, therefore it should stay on you. It will stay on you as I take you from behind, holding on to your skirt as I thrust into you.

You're naked except for the skirt hunches up around your waist, he takes a moment to run his hand down your spine and the beautiful arc of your back then when his hand meets your skirt, he takes a fistful of it in his hand.

You're moaning just from him teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock and you're so little, he doubts that you can take him well.

His doubt evaporated the second he enters you, slowly and you take it well. You continuously moan until his whole length buries deep inside your tight, velvety walls.

Han has been keeping his moans to himself by pressing his lips together with his jaws all clenched.

You want it slow, you say? No baby, why don't you try to keep up with me? You can blame that itty bitty skirt you wear later.

Your loud moans are enough to beat the sound of the heavy rain outside, the skin-slapping sounds come second, and then there are his grunts that escape through his gritted teeth.

Your head drops onto the pillow with your hands crumpling the sheet, trying to take his hard pounding as he chases his high.

He keeps adding speed as he goes while you keep tightening around his cock, giving him a hard time to last longer than he intended to.

I won't stop, I won't stop until you learn your lesson. I want you to remember that every time you put on that skirt, you'll think of the trouble I'll cause.

His eyes shift from looking at how he's fucking you through the reflection in the mirror to his cock going in and out of you, both giving him the same amount of pleasure.

But it's you, it's you who allowed him to indulge himself in you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he repeatedly says under his breath every time he almost slips away.

But it's you, you just feel too good and your moans are luring him to give himself in.

His eyes screws shut as he puts all of his into his thrusts and cumming, he realizes that he's going in raw into you a few seconds too late and hurriedly pulls out.

His cum dripping down and he got some drops on you too but he is high in pleasure to notice. His body goes limp but he feels the softness of your body when he collapses on top of you.

Fuck, how I wish I can do all that to you, my sweet pie! I'll always be in trouble just from thinking of you nonetheless.

But that little skirt, that little skirt will be the end of me.

The first thing he sees when he wakes up is you and he keeps on blinking his eyes, thinking he's still sleeping.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" You ask with a hand propping your head, looking down at him.

"Am I dreaming?" He asks with confused, squinted eyes.

You softly giggle and gently poke his cheek with your finger, "is that enough to convince you?"

You keep poking his cheek with your index finger, "your cheeks are incredibly soft," you say.

He should be the one curious about you then it hits him that he's under the duvet with you, naked. As if that's enough to convince him that he's not dreaming it, he grabs your hand and kisses it.

Then the reality hits him, he must have dozed off after the sex and cringed at himself, which surely will leave a bad impression on you.

"How long I've been sleeping?" He asks.

"Not long," you reply, turning on the bed to lay on your stomach with the upper half of your body overlapping his.

Now it feels real, having your body on him and your skin on his skin. He puts his hand on the side of your face and brushes your hair to the side, holding it there.

"Are you sure I'm not dreaming right now?" he innocently asks.

You lean in and give him a long peck on the lips, "how about now?" You ask once you break the kiss.

He shakes his head, "I'm not sure," he answers with a faint smile on his face.

"Just say you want me to kiss you again," you say with an eye-roll and place a kiss on his lips, a little longer than the previous one.

"Still think you're dreaming?" You ask again while biting your lower lip.

He doesn't answer but brings his face close to kiss you. With his hands wrapped around you, he rolls on the bed and has you underneath him, kissing you hard and deep.

He takes a break to catch his breath and looks down at you, with your eyes closed and lips wet from the kisses. You're so beautiful that it still doesn't feel real to him.

"I forgot to tell you that I can't stay the night over," you tell him, resting your hand flat on his magnificent chest muscle.

He frowns at the information but he understands, he lives the same way too where his work dictates his life, not the other way around.

"When do you have to leave?" He asks.

You glance at the clock on his bedside table, "in like two hours," you answer while dragging your hand lower to his abdomen.

"Okay," he meekly says because he can't do anything about it.

You keep dragging your hand lower and lower and he starts to notice where it leads.

He shoots you questioning glances and you respond with a smirk, then you bring your mouth close to his ear to whisper, "but I think we have enough time to..."

He closes his eyes as he feels your hand inch closer to his member, getting hard from you implying that you want to go again before you leave.

But your hand takes a turn back to his chest and you lay your head back on the pillow, "order some food because I'm starving," you say, followed by a series of a giggle from succeeding at playing him.

Han scoffs, he can't believe he almost fall for it but he concedes, no matter what he should treat his guest well.

He collapses on his side of the bed and asks, "what do you want for dinner?"

You shift to lay on your side, "Uhm..." you hum as you think with your hand under your chin.

It feels like he's looking at a pictorial in a magazine, therefore he doesn't mind you taking a long time to pick your dinner.

"On a second thought..." you say, snapping him out of his daze.

You get up from the bed and the duvet slides down your body, exposing your body to him like he needed the reminder of how gorgeous you look in your birthday suit.

"We can order the food later," you say and slip your hand under the duvet, closing into his cock that is getting hard from the anticipation.

He groans as your hand finally makes contact with his semi-hard cock with your eyes bore into him as you speak.

"I'd like to have my dessert first," you add with a sly smile.

Click.

That's still what he does every night, clicking on everything about you. Scrolling down your Instagram page and double taps on the beautiful pictures you took of yourself, leaving a comment on it with emoticons that consist mostly of hearts.

It's when he lays on his bed like this that the image of you fucking him that day flashed through his mind and he remembers everything so vividly.

Your mouth was slightly parted open with soft moans spilling out of it, your skin glows under the dim light, your breasts bouncing with every movement you made, and your ample flesh in his hands. To add to his suffering, he remembers how good to be inside you, and when you cum all over him, it's something that he does not even dare to fantasize about.

Fuck, now that he thinks about it, his cock is twitching in his pants.

He checks his phone and the last text he sent you looks so lonely without your reply.

On the day of the date, he watched you get dressed from the doorway of his bedroom, you put your skirt back on and turned around to look at him.

"I think you owe me a skirt," you said, showing him the mess he made on the fabric and he believed it's his cum dropping on your skirt when he hastily pulled out of you.

That's what was inside the package, a skirt that he owes you and he carefully picked it with the help of his stylist, frankly, he also chose one that he would love to see on you.

He's been waiting for your reply, wanting to know whether you like it or not. Alas, you've been keeping him on his toes all day.

To compensate for the absence of your presence in his day, he goes to your YouTube page to watch his favorite video of you, it feels a whole lot different watching it after he met you in real life. It enhances everything since he knows how you look like, how you smell, how you taste, and how you feel like.

He can't take it anymore, he craves you so badly like he's running low on sugar.

If you're not going to reply then he'll just send you another text, screw being a cool guy! He'll let you know how much he wants to see you.

Like you're listening to the rant in his head, the three dots appear on the chat box which means that you're typing a message for him.

He bites his lower lip with his fingers tapping the back of his phone nervously.

"I got the package!" You write.

His fingers automatically respond to your text and compose a reply even before his brain can think of an answer.

"Yeah?"

"The skirt. I love it!" You wrote along with three hearts emoticons.

He triumphantly smiles in the dark of his room, deep down, he knows that you'll like his pick.

"I'm glad you like it," he replies and presses send.

Before he forgets to ask it, he composes a new text.

"Have you tried it on?"

"Yes."

"And it fits?"

"Want to see?" You ask back instead of confirming whether it fits or not.

But you're offering him a visual aid and he absolutely can't say no to this. Heck, he would love just to see your shadow.

"With pleasure," he replies and bites his lower lip so hard that it turns white

You send him a picture and he quickly opens it, it's the lower half of your body with the skirt on and it amazes him that it fits you so perfectly, he did make a good choice.

Then you send another picture and it comes unexpectedly, he opens it to see you wearing nothing but the skirt.

It's clear that you're taking the picture yourself since you took it through the reflection in the mirror but you know how to tease him, how to get him going, and to make him crave you.

It takes him a minute to admire the picture you send him and another minute to compose a reply.

"Now that you do that, you know what will happen, right?"

Instead of answering him, you send him a video and he couldn't be faster to open it.

The video only lasts for a few seconds, it's you lifting the hem of the skirt to show him the white underwear you're wearing under. The fabric is so flimsy he can see right through and see the thing he craves the most.

"Come and cause trouble!" You send a text after the video.

It's like he's back on that night when he was drunk and being enticed by your tight, little skirt but he would never regret clicking send on those messages.

He's on his senses now, trying to make a good choice, he licks his lips before typing a reply to you.

"Aren't you the troublemaker?"

"You will be the end of me!" He adds, then paces around his room to get dressed. He's aware of how much of a fool he is for you, just pictures of you in a skirt and you got him wrapped in your little finger. Did he mind though? Not at all.

He stops by the threshold to send another text for you, "I'm coming."

Support my blog by reblog, comment or tip me on my ko-fi!

taglist: @abiaswreck @septicrebel @cursed-mars-bars @ppiri-bahng @drhsthl @a-katsukitty @tangylemonade @bluenights1899 @thisisnotstraight88 @raspbinniecreme @elizalabs3 @avyskai @lachinitaaaaa @is2cb97 @simeonswhore @marvelous-llama

#stray kids smut #skz smut #han smut #han jisung smut #han x reader #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #skz fics #skz fanfics #kpop smut #kpop fics #kpop fanfics #seospicy smut

883 notes · View notes