#And it's the one where there's almost nothing to pull a story from. It feels like all metaphors

[bajibitch]

Silly me - Clark Kent

"Your name?" The receptionist’ voice pulled you out of the shock you felt being at the infamous Daily Planet. You managed to say your name but it came out a bit shaky and he let out a soft chuckle. "You'll fit in great." The space you'd be working in was small like you expected but seeing the surrounding work spaces was a bit intimidating. It was easy to get distracted picking up pieces of the stories they chatted about but the dizziness that came with it was enough to remind you to focus. Where would you start, how was it that people found stories again?

“First day?” Looking up from your desk, you met a pair of enchanting blue eyes on a beautiful face. The smile he wore didn’t make it any easier to turn away. Your face was hot from the lack of preparedness, hopefully, he didn’t think you were forming a crush, it’d be embarrassing, he’d be right but you wouldn’t admit it.

“Is it obvious?” You thought you were playing it off well given that you managed to type out an exaggerated amount of the food article with little effort. “What am I doing wrong?” Surely an employee wouldn’t interrupt your work for nothing, or so you thought.

“Nothing, you seem to have it handled.” He eyed the screen with your nearly complete work. “I’m still cramming in yesterday's story.” His laugh was going to be in your mind later. Although it was short it managed to sound so wholesome and warming in the small time it had. “It’s just, I've never seen you around before.” His arm was resting on the computer monitor, if he was anyone else it would’ve irked you but he had good intentions so you’d ignore it for now.

“I started today, used to work at a different company in Oklahoma.“

“How was it there?” You considered offering him a chair to sit in since it felt as if he planned on hearing your life story.

“Given that it was my first job in journalism it’ll always have a special place in my heart, but I wanted to be somewhere more interesting.”

“You didn’t catch any stories?”

“Nothing worth mentioning, I did an article on food and the impacts of-” Nothing worth mentioning but I’ll list every one. You put a hand to your forehead as you cursed yourself for not catching the prattling sooner.

“Why’d you stop?” He took a glance around the office and stared back at you. “Something wrong?”

“No,” you sighed and went back to typing out your work. “I just have to finish this.”

“I’ll be out your hair then. It was nice meeting you… I didn’t catch your name.”

“I didn’t get yours either.”

“Clark. Clark Kent.” You stopped your typing and locked eyes with him once again.

“Y/n.”

“Well, y/n, I’ll catch you later.”

The strange thing for you is that usually when people tell you that, they never meant it. It was more like an, I’ll see you should we meet again kinda ordeal, not a follow you out of the office kinda thing.

“What is it, Clark?” You turned to see him not too far behind. His suit seemed a tad too big for him but it added a soft look to him.

“Just checking in on you. How’d you feel about the job? It’s not too much is it?”

“You aren’t from here either, are you?” He tilted his head and his lips parted but nothing came out. “You’re nicer than plenty of the people I’ve met so far. Some of them get irritated from my smile alone.” That’s why you learned to hold a poker face, the city lost its charm rather quickly when you arrived. His shoulders dropped and his lips had its default curve that made him sweet on the eyes.

“I used to live out in the country too, but as much as they tried, they could never break my smile.” Oh, you had to admit by now that he was hard to hate, not that you ever did. His spirit was almost contagious, the smile on your face showing he already infected you, maybe a harmless work crush wouldn’t be bad after all.

“Ready to go?” The both of you turned to the woman who needed no introduction, her work spoke for itself, she was a bit of a celebrity herself. You were shocked to see him kiss her with no hesitation and looked away from the affection. It was clear he had no qualms with showing his love.

“See you, tomorrow.” Fuck my life. When you buckled yourself into the seat and began to drive away, you couldn’t help laughing at how naïve you were to think he wouldn’t be in a relationship.

[tangerineastronaut]

Hi! I saw you take requests.

May I request something with GOT7 Jackson Wang and best friend!reader, in which the reader starts developing feelings for him and start thinking he’s the one for her? <3

Friends, Just for Now | Jackson Wang (Part 1)

Pairing: Jackson Wang (GOT7) x Fem!Reader Genre: Fluff, BestFriend!Reader, idiots to lovers Requested: Yes w.c. 6.6k (oops) Warnings: Cheating (not between jackson and reader), lots of profanity, nicknames, namecalling, minor injury, reader wouldn't know love if it smacked her in the head, holy shit they're kind of annoying af A/N: this was so fun to write, love me a good idiots friends to lovers. I'm also cheesy af, feel free to call me out. Please excuse any errors there may be, I usually proofread after posting. ❣️The love I received on my yunho imagine has literally made me do happy dances, I haven't posted anything on tumblr in 8 years and you guys are just literally the best. I love you all so much! Requests: Open (link below)

Part 2 is on its way!

Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

🎧 FRI(END)S by V

“Come on, pie, I told you this was gonna happen. You never listen.”

Two things went through your mind, though you refused to lift your head from where it was tucked against your knees. 

One, you hated that nickname. Pie. He thought it was so cute, and it probably would’ve died off had you not reacted to it the way you did. One missed smear of cherry on your nose 3 years ago and suddenly you’ve been christened. It was his favorite story to tell. 

And two, Jackson Wang was going to get his shit rocked if he didn’t leave you alone. 

“Fuck off,” you say bitterly, pulling further into yourself.

He was right. He had warned you.

You’d hoped Leejin was different, that the rumors were just exaggerated. Surely he didn’t cheat on every girlfriend…right?

“Wrong,” Jackson had laughed. “He’s a fucking dog, y/n.”

You’d rolled your eyes, and then Jackson said three words to you that had kind of hurt. Not kind of. A lot. They’d hurt a lot. 

“You’re not special.”

Leejin was so nice, he was smart and funny and headed for a successful career with his family’s business (so what if his parents probably paid off the school to make sure those student conduct violations never stuck). You wanted to be special. Spent 4 months trying to be. It wasn't an eternity, but you tended to put your whole heart into everything, and it almost always ended up like this.

But Jackson’s words rang true, painfully so, when you received a text from an unknown number earlier today—screenshots of messages between Leejin and some girl, including explicit photos. The unnamed person had said nothing else; you wondered if it was the girl from the screenshots, but you didn’t reply. You simply texted Leejin to go fuck himself before blocking him on everything, running straight home to your apartment, praying that Jackson wasn’t there. He was, of course, as you split the rent. You hated the look on his face when you barged in, nose red and snotty from crying.

It wasn’t smug, it was just…"come on, pie, I told you this was gonna happen." 

You heard him sigh now, no doubt running a hand through his hair. It was blonde; you’d made fun of him at the time he'd dyed it though begrudgingly had to admit it suited him. But he was going to be bald before he was 40 if he didn’t stop tugging at it when he was stressed.

“Hey. Hey, stop. I hate it when you cry, you know, makes my joints hurt or something,” he says, kneeling beside you.

The fuck…? What does that even—

But you were too upset to stop, so he muttered under his breath, poking at your head until you whipped it up to slap him away. He looked like such a boy, hugging his knees and giving you a pleading look. Fine. Bastard.

You sighed and uncurled yourself, your knees screaming from the pain of turning into a human rollie pollie for the last half hour. Jackson sighed as well, no doubt relieved that you weren’t ugly crying anymore. 

He waited until your sniffles were a few minutes apart before moving, sitting criss cross on the floor. His brown eyes were soft, a rarity, truly, though you knew he was already formulating ways to tease you about this when it was more irritating than painful. 

“Done?” he asks, more to comfort himself than you. You sniff and nod, wiping your nose on your sleeve. Well, his sleeve. He made a face, realizing that you were wearing one of his sweatshirts, but made the apparent decision to yell at you later. 

“Don’t be mean to me,” you mumble, resting your cheek on your knee. 

“When am I ever?”

“Jackson, I swear to fucking—”

“I didn’t say anything, pie.”

“If you don’t drop that god damned nickname, it was one time, one little bit of cherry filling, I don’t even like cherry pie, you’re so fucking annoying—”

It was his turn to interrupt, but he didn’t. He just watched you, an irritating twinkle of amusement in his eyes. You scoffed and tucked your face away again, wishing he’d stop looking at you like that. Or at all, really. If there was one thing you’d learned after being friends with him for so long…the asshat had some eyes on him. Had this way of using his gaze to set the mood, able to stop your arguments or rile you up with micro expressions like an olympic gold medalist of manipulation. 

“Want some ramen?” he asks, tilting his head as though speaking to a kicked dog. You crinkle your nose without looking at him. “Want some cake? Some candy?”

“I want you to leave me alone,” you grumble. 

“Want a bath?”

You sigh, refusing to humor him with an answer he already had. He snapped his fingers like he’d just solved the equation of the century, having the audacity to ruffle your hair as he stepped over you unnecessarily to get to the door. You could hear him down the hall, the sound of the bathroom cabinets opening and closing, the water running, hopefully set on hot like you liked. 

“You're out of bath bombs,” he called. You frown. 

“I’m not, they’re under the sink.”

“Why’d you move them? Next to your menstrual equipment, eww.”

That’s why. You felt sorry for whatever unfortunate woman Jackson decided to wife up—the man was addicted to hot baths and cotton candy bath bombs. You’d have to move them again though, now that he knew about your stash. Besides, you’d sent him to the shop more than a few times when you were cramping and out of pads (and chocolate); he would not be impeded by them.

Jackson was waiting for you by the time you dragged yourself to the small shared bathroom. He bowed dramatically, gesturing toward the tub which was steaming hot, as you liked—a meal’s gotta cook. 

You mumble a thank you as he walks past, though he pauses in the doorway, eyes narrowed.

“Get naked, and give me my damn sweatshirt,” he says, pointing accusingly at you. You pout, immediately clutching your pearls.

“Is that why you never get laid? Jesus, would’ve thought you were smoother than that,” you huff. He impatiently tugs at your sleeve, rolling his eyes in that sassy way that always made you giggle and made him more irritated—a win win scenario. 

“It’s a $30 shirt, not a snot rag…pie.”

“You’re a snot rag,” you mumble. You turn your back to him, crossing your arms at the hem and tugging it over your head. You were still in a bra thankfully, though still covered your chest as you tossed the material at him. 

Jackson caught it smoothly, though he wasn’t even looking at the sweatshirt. You didn’t realize he was looking at you until you reached for the button of your jeans. His eyes weren’t lower than your lips, but he looked a little…off. You expected a joke about a food baby or maybe how pale you’ve gotten, but he says nothing. 

“Hello?” you say, shaking your head. “Is that all? Want my pants too? Gonna do my laundry for a change?”

Jackson blinks like his brain finally returned to his skull. He bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head and backing out of the doorway. Before he closed the door, however, his eyes leveled with yours, so intense it made your breath catch in your throat. Was he mad? Over a sweatshirt?

“Leejin is a fucking idiot,” he says before turning on his heel and heading down the hall. 

You stare at the spot where he stood, even after he’s gone. The hell was his problem now?

By the time you’ve finished your glorious bath, you waltz into the living room like a princess. Jackson looks up from his place on the sofa, deadpanning and tossing his phone on the coffee table as he takes in the freshly purloined hoodie you're sporting.

“Gonna lock my closet,” he says, shaking his head. You beam at him, cutely crinkling your nose as you pad to the kitchen. You tug open the fridge, thinking maybe you could cook something simple for the two of you. It was kind of late to make anything grand, but you wanted more than ramen. 

The empty shelves make your eye twitch. 

“Seriously?” you huff, gesturing around. “Would it kill you to get groceries once?”

“You always complain when I do,” Jackson shrugs, flicking through netflix with the remote. “Got the wrong brand, got too many, didn’t get enough—”

“I always text you a detailed list, but whatever,” you grumble, low enough that it doesn’t provoke a response. “Since you’re a big man baby incapable of buying groceries, you can buy us something at the convenience store.”

“I am perfectly capable, thank you,” Jackson says, narrowing his eyes. 

“Of what? Weaponized incompetence? I agree, get dressed,” you hum. 

Ten minutes later, you’re walking side by side down to the convenience store. The apartment’s location was perfect—five minutes from campus one way, five to a 24 hour convenience store another. Perfect because you both had a habit of wanting to come home when you were drunk after a party, starved and craving foods that you’d regret the next day. 

The doors chimed a welcome as they slid open, allowing you inside. You made a beeline for the sweets, Jackson went straight for the energy drinks. 

You perused the aisle for a few minutes, making your choice and going to find your roommate. You rounded the corner and froze. 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible to block someone in real life. So while you’d never see Leejin’s social media posts, it didn’t mean that you wouldn’t run into him on a saturday night at the convenience store near your apartment. 

You feel a mix of emotions—anger, shame, disbelief among them. You knew it wasn’t impossible, it wasn’t even unlikely, as this store was one of only a few. But it felt so damn unfair that he’d happen to be here, hours after you found out about what he’d done. 

“Is that all you’re getting?” Jackson snorts, frowning as he eyes your bag of chips. But he notices your stillness, following your gaze to see Leejin, casually chatting on the phone as he looks at the protein bars.

You expect him to snort, maybe make a comment just loud enough for the other to hear before pulling you away, but Jackson surges forward so quickly he nearly knocks you over. You grab his arm, both to steady him and stop him from…whatever the hell he’s doing. 

“Where are you going?” you whisper, tugging him back with as much strength as you could muster. 

“He broke your heart and I’m gonna break his fucking face.”

He moves again, this time dragging you along on the linoleum floor. Fortunately, Leejin is too preoccupied with his call to notice. The thought makes your stomach twist, briefly wondering who he’s talking to. 

“You’re gonna get us kicked out, what’s the matter with you?” you hiss, trying to shake sense into him. Jackson yanks his arm away from you, dropping the energy drinks on the nearest shelf before storming off. You stare after him, mouth agape in disbelief. 

You arrive home 15 minutes later, having hid near the bathrooms until Leejin had left. You’d bought (and paid for, irritatingly) your snacks and Jackson’s drinks, but when you shove into the apartment, it’s empty. Lights off, no sign of him. You worry for a few seconds—had he waited for you and bumped into Leejin instead? But you surely would’ve heard something outside. You opt to text him and choose to believe he’s being broody and walking through the streets like a sad music video.

> what the fuck? is your deal? Where are you??

You’re confused and groggy when someone taps at your cheek, not realizing you’d even fallen asleep on the couch. You rub at your eyes, squinting, processing the sight of Jackson standing over you, t-shirt stuck to his form, beads of sweat rolling down his cheeks. 

You’ve had weird dreams about him before, ones that you’d rather never speak of again, and they usually start out like this. But this Jackson rolls his eyes in a way that sweet, sweet dream Jackson would never. 

“Get up, jesus. Your back is going to hurt,” he says. You slowly sit up, realizing he’s right. Apparently not only had you fallen asleep on the couch,  but you’d fallen asleep sitting up, sleeping in an unnatural slouched position. 

“Ow…”

“Told you.”

“No it’s…hey,” you snap, waking up a bit more now that you  remember that you’re actually pissed at him. “It’s your fucking fault, what happened to you? You just disappeared! I was worried!” 

You’re surprised to see Jackson bristle. He’s not shaken easily, least of all by you, but he glances to the side and tugs at his t-shirt, separating it from his damp skin. 

“Went to the gym. Figured I should cool off,” he says. You want to be pissed at him more, say something else, but your back hurts and you’re sleepy. Plus, you’re glad to see he’s alright. Mostly.

“Whatever,” you finally grumble, trying to stretch out your neck. “What time is it?”

“Dunno, around 2 a.m.,” he replies casually. “I’m gonna shower.”

“Great,” you huff. “You go shower. I’ll go roll over and die happy now that I know you’re alive.”

You stumble down the hall to your room, sighing at the sight of your unmade bed. What was the point if you were going to mess it up anyway? You hear Jackson follow shortly after, the bathroom door opening and closing. The shower starts, and you shuffle beneath the covers. 

You wake up not long after, whining in protest as you’re jostled. 

“It’s me,” Jackson says, rudely pushing you over. “Scoot.”

You wanted to shove him away, to point out that “scoot” should be said before you rob someone of their bed, but you can’t be bothered. Besides, once he settles next to you, you realize that he’s not wearing a shirt and he smells nice and clean. 

Sleepy, groggy, annoyed, relieved, you curl against him like a bunny seeking warmth. You feel him stiffen, though you think little of it. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, not sounding the least bit tired. You couldn’t say the same for yourself, unable to open your eyes as you reply. 

“Mm. ‘s warm down here. Night night.”

You hear him sigh, then shuffle, and then he’s rolled over to face you, offering a human-made cocoon that you happily burrow into. He’s soft and warm and smells like his manly body wash—and your shampoo, damn it. 

“Goodnight, y/n,” he says, soft enough to count but not enough for you to notice. 

Waking up tangled with Jackson was, unfortunately (?), not all that unusual. When you were upset, you found your way to his bed, and despite his protests you knew he didn't actually mind. It went both ways—you'll die before you admit that you like it, if only because he's a human heater.

You still feel groggy, squinting and fumbling around for your phone. Such a task is difficult when there's deadweight slung over your waist, but you manage, bringing the device to your face.

10:43 a.m.

Oh good. You slept 8 hours—and half the day away, to your brain at least. You toss your phone down, debating whether or not you should just go back to sleep. You choose instead to roll over, addressing the sleeping shirtless man keeping you pinned to your bed.

Your camera roll was filled with photos just like this, because Jackson slept like a baby. Literally. Hands curled into fists, face relaxed, head tilted to the side. His blonde hair is mussed from sleeping with it wet last night, and you dodn't hesitate to run your fingers through it for no reason at all. It was soft and surprisingly thick, but you weren't about to dial back on the baldness theory.

Jackson stirred, though didn't wake up, shifting to lie on his back. Freed from your restraints, you sat up and had to cover your mouth to stifle a laugh.

Of course the curtains parted like that, of course he was sleeping like a prince now, sunlight arcing off of his jaw—it even highlighted his stubble in an annoyingly poetic way. What kind of gods were kind enough to give him of all people that face?

He really was kinda...pretty.

No, not kinda. Jackson Wang was beautiful. You were his best friend, but you weren't blind. Maybe you'd become a little numb to his charms, but you'd seen what he could do to people with just a look, even without malicious intent. He was charismatic on top of that, though you were the only one who got to see the side of him that wasn't.

The side that stole your shampoo and commandeered your bed, anyway.

So fine, you knew he was pretty. But he was kinda sorta extra pretty right now, and maybe you wanted to remember it later.

You shifted to grab your phone—a never-ending quest for material to bully each other over—but the movement apparently jostled him awake. You sheepishly smiled as he blinked a few times, using the heel of his palm to rub the blurriness away.

"Really?" he asked, voice rough, eyes leveling to the phone in your hand. "Fucking creep."

"You have like a thousand pictures of me sleeping," you point out, narrowing your eyes. Jackson nods, rolling over and hugging your waist, his head resting against your hip.

"That I do—you're cute when you drool all over yourself. I'm working on a collage."

"Asshole," you mutter, prying his arms off of you. You make an attempt to escape, but as expected, you're smoothly hauled back down.

"Where you going?"

"I need to pee, wanna come with?"

"It's early."

"It's almost 11."

"Yeah, early."

Jackson grunts before you can reply, practically placing you in a chokehold as he rolls over. You have no choice but to go with him, ending up flopped over his chest like a dead fish.

He says nothing for a moment, and you wonder if he's fallen back asleep. It's not difficult to squirm out of his grasp this time, though rather than allowing you to slide off, the apparently-awake-Jackson moves both hands to your hips.

Your stomach does that funny thing it sometimes does around him, like a little alarm that says 'hey! getting too close!' Listening to this alarm had prevented a lot of mistakes over the course of your friendship, mistakes like wanting to kiss him when you were tipsy, noticing the way he looked after a long workout, hair plastered to his forehead, the fuzziness you felt that time your heating pad broke, and his warm hands wound up on the lower half of your tummy to stave off the cramps.

Mistakes like that.

His eyes open again, and you do your best to look irritated.

"I'm sorry about last night," he says, suddenly unnaturally serious. "I was just trying to cool off, and my phone died, so I didn't see your text until after I got home."

You're not really sure how to respond—it was always strange when conversations got like this between you, regardless of the topic. It was so jarring, so far from the usual cracked out nonsense. You decided to nod, then shake your head, then nod again.

Jackson was a badass, most people knew as much. He was trained in martial arts and practically ate protein for every meal. But despite this, he wasn't typically an aggressive guy. You'd only ever seen him throw one punch—an ex of yours a couple years ago who threatened to post a nude photo of you. Needless to say, the guy deleted them, made difficult thanks to the blood smearing his screen as it dripped from his nose.

"It's fine, I get it," you say. "Just...why were you so mad at him? Did he do something to you?"

Jackson blinks up at you, shifting so that he's partially sitting up on his elbows.

"I told you, y/n," he says, shaking his head like you're an idiot. "He broke your heart, I was gonna break his face. You should've let me get one hit in at least."

"He didn't break my heart," you groan, rolling your eyes. "It wasn't that serious, you know that. We'd only been dating for 4 months."

"...I watched you cry for an hour because someone stepped on a worm—"

"—that's different. It's literally a living little creature, what if that's someone's girlfriend, hm? What if she asked her boyfriend 'would you still love me if I was a worm' and he said yes except now they can't live wormily ever after because she's smushed all because some horrible person can't be bothered to step aside for a worm?"

Jackson stared up at you, blinking slowly, looking 175% done with your shit.

"What the fuck is wormily ever after?"

You sigh, leaning forward until your head is on his bare shoulder. You have half a mind to bite him, though you resist. You will be civil—for now.

"I don't know," you mumble. "No early birds, no hot sidewalks?"

"I....you're so fucking weird."

"Lots of guys are dickheads, but you were ready to knock him out. Really, Jackson, was that all? Promise he didn't say something to you?" you ask, voice muffled against his warm skin. Just one lil munch. It'd be good payback for him scaring the hell out of you last night.

Jackson exhales, and there's suddenly a hand tugging at your tangled mess of bedhead until you're sitting up, looking down at him.

"I wanted to kick his ass for the same reason that I never bring anyone home," he says quietly. His eyes are serious, no sparkle of humor in them, and it makes your stomach twist. You didn't like it when Jackson got serious.

"What? Because of me?" you ask. "I don't care who you fuck as long as I don't have to cook them breakfast."

Mostly true—you were afraid of walking out of your bedroom one morning and running into a really pretty girl, someone with perfect grades and clear skin, who has the audacity to be beautiful and nice. Someone only Jackson deserves. But you leave that bit out and give him a half teasing smile.

Jackson doesn't return it. He grunts, moving his hand up to tug at his hair. You slip yours beneath his, mumbling for him to stop doing that.

"You really don't?" he finally asks, swallowing hard enough that you see his throat move.

"Don't what?"

"You don't care who I fuck?"

His question catches you off guard, though not as much as the fact that he still looks dead serious. This seems like something the two of you should be laughing over—not something to talk about whilst you're currently straddling your best friend in your bed, who happens to be naked from the waist up.

"I mean...no?" you say, shaking your head in confusion. "Should I?"

"I don't know, should you?"

Should you? What the hell was that supposed to mean? You didn't like riddles, and this felt like one. You'd tried to stay out of his business over the four years you've been friends, though come to think of it...you'd never met any of his girlfriends after the first six months. You'd assumed he was so busy with classes and his extracurriculars that there just wasn't much time for anything past shallow hookups.

But...you couldn't remember a single time that had occurred. He was home every night, never brought company over for that purpose.

"Jackson," you say quietly, palms resting on his chest. When the hell did he get so muscular? There was a noticable firmness beneath your fingers, and you briefly considered billing Leejin for your services in making sure he didn't get the shit beat out of him. "I feel like this is an inside joke and I'm out of the loop. You're upset? Why?"

"Why would I be?" he counters, irritatingly smooth. The hands on your hips squeeze once, like he's trying to talk to you in morse code. It's annoying.

"Quit," you mumble, biting your lower lip. "I'm trying. Stop being mean and just tell me."

He sighs, moving a hand to his face.

"If you don't already know, then it doesn't matter, alright?"

"Wh—"

You're cut off as he suddenly shifts from beneath you, leaving you tumbling to the sheets when he stands. Just like the last two times for some damn reason, he prepares to storm out of the room.

"Jackson, wait—shit."

You trip over the edge of your nightstand, catching yourself on your hands. Your lamp tumbles to the floor, thankfully not shattering on the carpet. Still, the ache brings tears to your eyes, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you sit down.

"How many times have I told you to push that against the wall!?" Jackson says, rushing over to you. You lean back against your bed, grimacing as you look at your knee. It's not the worst scrape you've ever gotten, but it is bleeding, and it burns.

"Hang on, pie." He leaves the room, and by the time he returns with the pack of bandaids and peroxide, you're covering your face with one hand and hugging your knee with the other.

"Hey, it's not so bad," he says, obviously in partial panic mode as he kneels in front of you and tugs at your ankle. He probably thought that's why you were in tears, but it was moreso the fact that he was being...just...weird, and you didn't like it.

You quietly sit there, hands over your eyes as he uses a cotton ball to dab at the blood. You don't even flinch, it doesn't burn—perks of having an MMA star for a roommate; he knew how to bandage a cut (a common occurence for your clumsy ass, unfortunately).

After a few minutes, he pats the side of your calf, and you finally uncover your eyes. There's a bandaid over the scrape now, and you let your knee fall to the side. Jackson is looking at you, and you nod.

"That's good, thanks," you mumble quietly.

"You sure?" he asks. You frown, nodding quickly. But his hand moves up to your cheek, cupping it as his thumb swipes below your eye.

Tears.

That alarm goes off inside of you, but Jackson doesn't move his hand, so you let it sit there and you feel your stomach tying itself into a knot. You're a little worried it's not gonna come undone.

"I wasn't crying because of that," you say, swallowing as you glance away shamefully. "I...I don't like this, Jackson. Feels weird. If I did something to make you mad, I wish you'd just tell me—"

"I'm not mad at you," he replies. You sniff, and finally his hand slips away, though only to rest on your uninjured knee. His fingers twitch, like he wants to do something but won't let himself. Slap you, maybe, for never listening to him and always ending up hurt because of it. You would, if you were him.

"You keep running away from me," you point out, a little surge of anger from last night returning. "You keep acting like I'm supposed to know everything you're thinking, and I don't, because you won't tell me stuff. I tell you stuff, the least you could do is text me a grocery list of what the fuck is going on inside of your brain, so I'm not sitting here thinking I'm gonna lose my best friend and roommate over something I don't even know that I've done. I'm sorry we ran into Leejin, it's not like I knew he was gonna be there. I'm sorry for thinking I was special in the first place and ending up where you said I'd be."

Jackson sighs and tilts his head, and you hate yourself for crying more. It wasn't a big deal, things were a little crazy after yesterday. You didn't even love Leejin, it had just...hurt? Your pride? No one wants to know they're less than a second choice. But Jackson had acted like Leejin was out for his blood, and every time he runs away, it feels like he's escaping you.

"You're not gonna lose me," he finally says, glancing down at the floor. "I just...I've got a lot of shit to work through, you know? It's not...it's not your fault though."

"Like what?" you ask, worry lining your brow. "If you'd just—is it money? Because we can figure out rent—"

"It's not money," he interrupts. "I promise, it's nothing like that."

"Then what?" You huff, a little more irritated than concerned. "Parents? Grades? Girl trouble?"

"Yeah," he nods, licking his lips. "That last bit."

"Girl trouble?" you ask, somewhat surprised. For some reason, the fact that he hadn't told you about a girl bothered you more than the idea that there was one at all. You shared everything with him; if he'd kept her a secret, it had to have been a little more serious.

"Do I know her?" you ask tentatively. Please say no, I don't want to go through a list of the hottest girls I know.

"Yeah," he replies. Fuck.

"Oh. How long have you been dating?"

"We're not."

"Then...?"

"She's an idiot."

"It's a mystery as to why you're single, really," you say, rolling your eyes. "So she's an idiot because she won't date you? Sounds kind of shallow on your end."

"She's an idiot because she keeps dating jackasses who don't give a shit about her. I don't give a damn if she ever chooses me or not," he says plainly. You frown.

"Maybe she's insecure?"

"She is. Very."

"Huh. Is she pretty?"

"Beautiful."

"Oh. Hm."

Well what the fuck were you supposed to say to that? Congratulations? Sorrows, sorrows, prayers?

"Okay..." you say after a beat. You were not good with advice, especially when it came to love, obviously. He didn't say love though. Infatuation, maybe. Still, you were not an expert. "So if she keeps dating jackasses and won't date you, why do you bother? Why not just forget about her?"

Jackson's eye twitches. You don't notice.

"Hard to forget someone you see every day, pie," he says. You scoff.

"Okay, I'm calling bullshit. I'm literally the only person you see every day."

"Mhm."

"Then you're lying?" you ask. Jackson deadpans.

"Please, for the love of god, never reproduce."

"Rude," you mutter. "Fine, so I know her, she's insecure, pretty, dates assholes, you allegedly see her everyday?"

"All of the above," he says. You frown, lips pursing as you rack your brain for answers, going through the hot insecure girls you know like a filing cabinet.

Wait.

Your eyes widen. Jackson's do the same, and then he smiles, like he's proud of you.

"Oh my god, is it Kim Sujin?" You ask, covering your mouth. "The girl with the—"

"Jesus fucking christ, y/n," he groans, running a hand through his hair. "Are you...you're fucking with me? That's what this is. You're not this dumb, right? Please say no. I feel like I'm in middle school right now, holy shit."

You open your mouth to argue, to insist he was being unfair (you didn't even like puzzles!) but he suddenly leans forward, palms cupping both of your cheeks. He pulls you toward him, nose inches from yours. You've been this close to him before, but you're suddenly dizzy now, a little out of it as you wonder if this is really happening to you—or if this is another sweaty-jackson-standing-over-me dream. Jackson, who has freckles on the tip of his nose and won't stop looking at you like that, the knot pulling tighter and tighter.

"Stop thinking before you hurt yourself. 'm gonna kiss you now, is that okay?" he asks.

Is that oka—?

"Kiss?" you mumble, swallowed up by those god damn pretty brown eyes. Jackson nods, head tilted, primed to kiss the cluelessness out of you, apparently. "Y-yeah, that's fine."

"It's gonna be...it's gonna be a lot, okay? Like not just a peck. You're fine with that?"

"Yep," you nod.

Jackson nods back. And then he kisses you.

He doesn't release your face, squishing your body between himself and the bed behind you. His lips press to yours, insistent and warm, though you can tell he's being cautious—if you wanted to push him away, you could. But you did not want to do that.

Because Jackson Wang was kissing you, and he's a really good kisser.

You briefly forget that you have hands, so when you remember, you waste no time in using them. One cups his jaw, feeling the edge of it press into your palm. The other fists his blonde hair, tugging it gently.

Jackson groans into your mouth, and that alarm in your belly turns into a fucking war drum. You feel the knot tighten and snap, and suddenly you're pushing him back, scrambling into his lap.

You kind of want more, kind of want to put your tongue in his mouth because he's warm and tastes good and you can only imagine how much better it would be, but he beats you to it. His tongue swipes over your lower lip and you eagerly open for him. He breathes in as soon as you do, and it feels like he's stealing your soul. Fuck it? He can have it?

It's messy, a tad bit desperate, definitely not the poetic kiss of rom coms, but you don't give a shit. It feels good, feels warm and right, like you've been kissing him in your head every day for the past 4 years.

By the time you manage to separate, you're trembling an embarassing amount. You'd blame the buzz on coffee if you'd had any, but you just hide your flushed cheeks and rest your forehead against his shoulder. You can tell that for once, Jackson's brain seems to also have short circuited, as it takes him a minute before he finally wraps his arms around you. You can hear his breath—as shaky as yours, thank god.

"Was that okay? Was it weird? Did I make you uncomfortable?" he asks, tilting back on one palm to look at you, his other arm secured around your waist. You sit up, shamelessly biting your lower lip, refusing to meet his eyes. He mistakes this for discomfort, all but shoving you out of his lap, hands flying to his hair.

"Fuck, I...I shouldn't have...I didn't mean to. I wasn't gonna...I'm so fucking sorry y/n, if you want me to move out—"

"You're gonna go bald," you mumble, a little blitzed out as you rest on your hands.

"Huh?"

"Nevermind. Stop freaking out, okay?" you offer, finally looking up at him. God he looks...scared. Hair messy, brown eyes wide. So unlike his usual cocky self that you're a little shaken, caught between wanting to protect him and wanting to kiss him again.

"I didn't make you uncomfortable, did I?" he asks softly. That alarm is now everywhere, setting off in your chest at his concerned tone. You shake your head.

"No. I'm okay," you reassure him. "A little irritated."

Jackson's head snaps up, worry on his face. You feel guilty, so you quickly clarify.

"You said I'm not special," you say quietly, looking away. "If you were talking about me just now...why did you tell me that?"

He looks confused, like he can't remember (of all the things he's said to bully you—while you kept a detailed record). But he seems to finally recall the conversation, rubbing his forehead as his lips spread into a smile.

"What's funny?" you puff.

"I meant to him, pie. You're not special to him. Not that you weren't special at all, or to...to me," he explains, looking part amused and part shy. You soften a bit, unable to help but pout.

"Then you should say that!" you say, gesturing at nothing. "You can't just go around telling people they aren't special."

"I don't make you feel special?" he asks, dipping his head to meet your eyes.

Well, yes, but that's not the point. You choose not to reply.

Just like most things when it comes to you, however, he already knows the answer. He looks a little too proud of himself as he reaches for your wrist, pulling you back into him. You're not quite in his lap, but you lean heavily against his side, your chin resting against his chest.

"What if we mess it up?" you ask, looking up at him. He frowns, not understanding. "Us. What if...what if we mess us up?"

"I don't see how we would," he laughs. "We're practically married."

"Gross. We are not."

"We split the bills, pie."

"Most roommates do."

"We cook together."

"Most roommates do."

"My mother loves you."

"Your mother loves everyone."

"Not true. And my father loves you."

You pause, then squint.

"Your father has good taste," you say. Jackson rolls his eyes. He looks a little conflicted, like he can't decide what's too much, what's too soon.

"I do," he says quietly.

You hate that, for once in your life, you know exactly what he's saying without him saying it. And god damn it, you feel your eyes burning.

"Don't...ugh," you whine, looking away from him. But he's not having it, taking your chin and tilting your face up. You're faced with glassy eyes that make you want to die.

You hated it when he cried. Maybe you make his joints hurt or whatever, but you've only seen Jackson cry twice, once when his family dog died, and another when he was drunk and had convinced himself you weren't his friend anymore. Both times, you'd never felt so helpless. The way you feel now.

"Y/n, I—"

"Please don't," you breathe quickly, swallowing down your tears. You immediately panic at the look on his face, like you've slapped him. But you tuck your hair behind your ear and shake your head.

"No, I-I mean, I know you do, and I...I'm pretty sure I do too. I just...I can't say it now, alright?" you explain. "I'm sorry, I just—you know me better than anyone. I don't...don't wanna fuck it up, you know? I don't wanna lose you, I'm so bad, so stupid when it comes to this—"

"Hey, hey, shh..." Jackson says, gently shaking your chin. "I'm not upset, okay? Just relieved, a little scared. I don't want to fuck this up either, yeah? I want...I want what we are today and I want it tomorrow, even if that means we stay just like this."

His thumb brushes your lower lip. God, you want to kiss him again.

"No rush, pie, okay? I'll wait for you, even if..." he sucks in air and looks away, as though the idea hurts to even consider. "...even if it's never for us."

You want to kiss him again. Would that even be appropriate? After what you just said? After the emotions threatening to disrupt the foundation of your life for the past four years?

"Can...can I kiss you again?" he asks softly. You swallow and nod.

"Please."

pssst...do we need a part two with fluff and maybe some smut for these two idiots?

[emthephantom]

Wednesday-T.N (Part 4 of No One Noticed)

Theo Nott x F!Reader Something happens with the boys and you're the only one who can help, will you be successful? Warnings: Some angst (tiniest bit) Words: 827 A/N: This is definitely an ooc Mattheo but it adds to the story, I hope you enjoy :) Series Masterlist

Wednesday classes were finally over and you were glad to retreat to your dorm. Your feet dragged all the way, your robes begging to be taken off. When you finally enter your dorm, you’re met with a small gift box on your bed. 

Suddenly your tired energy vanished as you rushed to open it. Inside was a note that read ‘thought you’d enjoy having some decorations in your room, meet at my dorm later, Theo x’ Your interest was piqued at the mention of a decoration, so you didn’t hesitate to open the tissue paper. Once revealed, you find a photo frame with a picture of you and the boys from yesterday. You were proudly wearing the crown while Mattheo and Enzo were laughing, and Theo- well he was looking at you, clearly enthralled with your wide grin. After staring at the picture for a few moments, you were drawn to the inscription at the bottom, ‘you are not alone.’ The simple sentence almost brings you to tears, how could someone care so much.  

You place the gift on your desk, making sure it was visible from all angles- it was nice to have the reassurance. Putting on fresh clothes, you make your way to the boys' dorm, knocking softly. 

A panicked Theo opens the door, pulling you inside, ‘Thank Godric you’re here, you need to help Mattheo.’ You match Theo’s energy immediately, worrying immensely about your friend.  

 ‘What’s wrong, is he okay?’ Theo leads you towards the bathroom door where you can hear muffled sobs. Your heart breaks as you recognise the feeling- you knew what was happening.  

‘Okay you go, I’ll try sort this,’ you softly say to Theo,’ take care of yourself too Theo, go get some food from the kitchens.’ He hadn’t noticed his grumbling stomach, his worries pushed away all his needs. He nods and turns away. 

You knock and slowly open the door. Mattheo is cradled against the bathtub, tears falling from his eyes. A similar state you were in just a few nights ago.  

‘Mattheo? It’s Y/N.’  

‘Don’t call me that,’ he sobs, 'Call me anything but that.’ 

You inch closer, sitting across from him, 'What do you want me to say?’ 

‘Anything that doesn’t remind me of my father. I’m just his monster.’ 

‘Matt, come on, you’re not a monster,’ you grab his hands, pulling them away from his eyes, ‘We can’t choose our family and you’re nothing like him.’ His tear-filled eyes look into yours, telling you a thousand stories. 

‘I heard them say I’d end up like him, worse if that’s possible. Can I ever be my own person, Y/N, if all everyone does is assume I’m like him?’ 

‘Of course you can. I don’t know you well but I know for certain you’re nothing like him.’ you take his hands in yours, speaking sincerely.   

He takes a deep shuddering breathe before speaking, ‘This is so stupid. It’s be hurting for a while but today, it just snapped. It’s hopeless I can’t talk to anyone about it.’ 

‘Hey don’t say that, it’s valid to be upset about something like this. You can always talk to me about it, I, uh,’ you stop, hesitance lacing your voice’ I understand how you feel. It’s a loneliness that no one can change so you feel like there’s nothing for you anymore, right?’ you look down, fidgeting with your fingers to avoid Mattheo’s gaze. 

Mattheo breathes out a sigh of content, ‘Yeah, exactly like that, I have Theo and Enzo but do I really have them? I mean I refused to let them help, it’s only a matter of time before they stop trying.’ 

‘You guys are best friends; they wouldn’t leave you like that. You just need to let them in, like you let me in.’ 

‘Theo said you’d understand so I decided to try.’ Mattheo whispers. 

‘You’re not alone Matt.’ you bring him to his feet, brushing his curls out of his face 

‘Same goes for you, Y/N, thank you.’ 

The two of you emerge from the bathroom and you lead Mattheo to his bed, sending him a look of encouragement. Theo and Enzo look at you like you’re a hero, wonder painting their faces. You join Theo in his bed, sitting crossed legged in front of him, ‘He’s going to be okay’ 

Theo’s blue eyes drop to your lips for a split second before he regains his composure. ‘Thank you, Y/N, we were getting really worried.’ Your eyes drift towards the other two, who are in a quiet conversation, Enzo nodding his head every so often and Mattheo slowly returning to his usual self. 

‘Third reason, you care about others before yourself.’ You feel Theo’s breath near your ear and turn to face him. The thought of kissing him flashes through your mind; instead, you grab his hand, your thumb tracing over knuckles.  

‘You know, I’m starting to look forward to these.’ you admit. 

‘That means they’re working.’ 

Taglist: @nottinmyheart @minhlajenni

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Part II

Word count: 3900+

Warnings: SA (just reminder that Zima is reader's stepbrother and they don't share even single drop of blood - fact that he's disgusting is another story)

Part I | Part III

I woke up early in the morning, soft light poured into my room through open curtains. Snowflakes dance behind the windows on light breeze, new icicles shone in the first rays of winter sun and glaciers in the surrounding mountains cracked loudly.

The urgent knock sounded.

"My lady, are you awake?" Lucy peeked in. "It's time."

I sighed. It was going to be really long day. Fire loudly crackled in the hearth, greeting me and sending waves of heat to the room. I reluctantly got up, shivering at the sudden loss of warmth of the bed. Lucy quickly handed me my cloak and I snuggled up in the thick fur.

Another two maids entered, bringing in voluminous dress and jewellery. I sat down at the vanity and let them do their work. I felt strangely empty, disconnected from my body, zoning in and again out as I had to change position while maids dressed me and did my hair and make up. My mind was completely blank like sheet of paper, the burden of the events awaiting me heavily sitting on my shoulders.

When I looked around, finally taking note of my surrounding, I was already sitting in the sleigh. My father smiled at me weakly as he sat down next to me and wrapped another layer of warm blankets around my shoulders.

"Are you cold, my little girl?" he murmured and I shook my head.

Morena got on and took a seat opposite us, the skirt of her dress visible through slit in the cloak nothing but a fancy fabric of highest quality. She definitely didn't hold back while preparing for the visit of the capital.

"Why couldn't we just go to the capital ahead? They would surely prepare rooms for us. Better spend there night than this. All this haste so early in the morning isn't good for my skin," her complains went on and on, but nor me nor my father paid her any attention.

Father was sitting with his head down, squeezing my hand so firmly, it almost hurt. I, on the other hand, slowly looked around for the last time, committing every wall, every stone, every shiny piece of ice to memory. After today, I wouldn't be able to return home for sure.

The sleigh started moving with a slight jerk and I watched the castle, where I spent my entire life, getting smaller with every mile until we entered the mountains. As we were riding through the pass between two enormous rocks, the icy cold wind grew stronger, biting into my skin until I had to close eyes, protecting my face with hand in thick glove.

I felt a pull that made me nauseous and wind had died down. When I dared to looked around, we were slowly moving forward along the narrow ascending road with steep rocky hills on one side and a gorge on the other. The gorge was so deep that I couldn't see its bottom. The tentacles of milky white fog were climbing up its walls, curling around the the protruding rocks, and the sound of running water echoed in cold but strangely still air.

After a while I recognized shape of a gate from carved stone in distance with a waterfall next to it. Despite the never melting layer of ice, water rushed under it, its sound deafening as thunder. And above it, narrow white towers dusted with snow rose into the sky, disappearing in heavy grey clouds. Two bridges spanned the gorge, connecting large castle on one side with smaller but breath-taking city on its other side. Whether castle or the buildings in the city, it all perfectly blended with the surrounding landscape to the point it was hard to believe that it was built by faeries.

When we were passing through the first gate, we were greeted by one soldier and two huge white bears in armour. It was my first time seeing these beasts, let alone so close. All air left my lungs and I couldn't as much as move when their inteligent black beady eyes narrowed on me. The unpleasant feeling of being watched by them melted only once we got closer to another gate.

The sleigh passed through another two gates that seemed to be unguarded and at last we got to the city. The first thing I noticed, was the silence. There wasn't a single person on the streets nor in the windows of the houses even though it was almost noon. The freshly fallen snow creaked under reindeer hooves, puffs of their breaths melting in the air. We all were so nervous that we didn't dare to speak, vigilantly searching the shadows between houses and under numerous evergreens.

Everyone relaxed a little once we passed through the entrance arch of the closest bridge made of ice. On its other side waited another soldier and pair of bears. Nobody stopped us, nor spoke to us. This place was so weird.

We entered the castle's grounds and were immediately surprised by crowd of faeries of all shapes and shades of white, blue, grey and black waiting along the road. So this was the place where all the habitants of the city disappeared to. Smiles shone brightly on their faces, children jumped in the place and shouted in excitement. Everyone was waving and handfuls of white petals rained on us as sleigh slowly moved forward.

It took almost an hour to get to the very last gate separating the castle from the quarters of castle staff and lower aristocrats who lived or temporarily resided here. The crowd stayed thankfully behind the gate and reindeer again sped up a bit. The castle was surrounded by garden of shaped evergreens of different highs, ice statues and fountains that sparkled in the sun partly hidden behind clouds, everything dusted with silvery snow. Under different circumstances, I would enjoy the view, but I was too nervous, my eyes set ahead.

Much smaller crowd gathered near the castle's entrance. By their looks they were all High Fae, undoubtedly aristocrats and wedding guests. They just stood there, unimpressed, their assessing expressions making me feel uneasy. On top of the stairs, in front of closed double doors made of massive white oak wood, waited three figures - two males and one female who stood few steps behind them.

The sleigh came to stop, everyone waiting for the bride to get off first. Father helped me untangle from warm furs and blankets while I took off gloves. My wedding white dress with silver embroidery was lined with fluffy fur of polar fox with a special warm layer inside, but even that wasn't enough for me and I shivered. However, I had to endure this much. Soon we would be inside and this torture would be over. I stood up on shaky legs, hoping someone from the gathered ones would come to help me get down. Landing on my ass in front of the most important Faes of this Court the second my foot would touch the ground, wouldn't be exactly the best first impression.

Thankfully, one white head separated from onlookers, heading to the sleigh. As soon as I recognized the face, my stomach churned and cold sweat ran down my spine. It was Zima, the last person I expected to see here. When he left home after the night he attacked me in my own room, I was told he was expected to return after my departure and nobody mentioned he would attend my wedding. But here he was, unpleasant smirk spreading on his face. All the memories of that night, his cold breath and hands on my skin, all the pain and terror washed over me, leaving me unable to move or speak.

"Y/N? Are you well?" father gently touched the tips of my fingers.

I pushed air into my lungs and nodded. At the same moment, Zime came to stop at sleigh's side and offered me hand, his cruel gaze not leaving my face.

"Sister," he muttered — even his voice made my sick. "I'm so glad I could get here on time. I wouldn't miss your wedding no matter what."

He waited for me to take his hand, but I couldn't. I didn't want to. I wanted him as far from me as possible. There was a rustle in the crowd, all eyes at us and someone cleared his throat. I had to move. Touching him as little as possible, I accepted his help, got off and immediately distanced myself from him. Father got off right after me, helped Morena and then taking my hand he led me to the stairs.

"If you want to change your mind and run away, now is the right time," he whispered to me.

"No, I've already decided. I'll do what they want," I replied quietly. He squeezed my hand. I knew he was against this wedding, but if it meant protecting him and my home, and getting away from Zima, I didn't mind.

We stopped in front of the two males and bowed. One of them was older, the other quite young. It was clear they were father and son, sharing very similar features. Both were tall and good looking, with snowy white hair. I couldn't help it as my eyes were drawn to the younger one. I needed to look at the male I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with.

My chest heaved as my gaze roamed over him. He was breathtakingly handsome, but even that couldn't balance out the cold that radiated from him. His blue eyes seemed like chips hewn from a glacier, sharp and piercing and his skin was so pale he looked frozen. He watched me closely as well, his face not giving out any emotions, and I shivered.

While we were gazing at each other, our fathers exchanged the greetings.

"You must be cold after such a long journey," Kallias suddenly said, interrupting his father, his eyes still on me. Despite his look, his voice was warm, deep and smooth like honey. "Come inside and warm up."

"The younglings of today," High Lord chuckled and the crown of ice sparkled as he tilted his head. He didn't seemed to be offended at slightest. Something soft and warm crossed his face, but the emotion disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

Kallias ignored him and offered me his hand with long fingers in white glove. My father pressed lips together, but he released me with a light tap on the back of my hand. I looked at him with question and he only nodded, giving me a tight smile.

While the gates slowly opened for us, Kallias turned around, escorting me to the castle. I didn't miss the fleeting look he gave to the female who bowed her head. She stood there quietly all the time, corners of her full lips slightly curled into small smile, her hand rested on the pommel of silver sword. She didn't seem to be member of the royal family as nobody bothered to introduce her, yet she had to be important nevertheless.

The Mountain Home — as they called this castle — was nothing like my home. It seemed to be built out of ice, marble and light colored wood. Every room we passed, was decorated with crystal ornaments, thick carpets and fluffy furs, fire roared in giant hearths. All polished surfaces twinkled and sparkled in the sunlight penetrating through large windows with long icicles hanging outside. It was magnificent.

"You can rest in here," Kallias stopped in front of one of the doors in the long hallway and turned to me. His tone was reserved, almost careful as if he wasn't sure how to talk with me. "Your family will be in adjoining room. If you need something, anything, call for the servants. When the time comes, someone will come to escort you."

I was so busy looking around that I didn't notice that we were all alone here. He raised a brow.

"Your father is with mine in the High Lord's office. There are some details that need to be discussed. Don't worry, your family will come soon."

"Thank you, my Lord," I was about to bow, but he stopped me.

"Just Kallias, please."

"Kallias," I corrected myself, a bit flustered. "Please, call me Y/N."

He just nodded, his blue eyes searching my face, jaw tight. "I should change," he mumbled and last time looking me over, left.

I watched his back until he disappeared around the corner. His shoulders were broad, spine painfully straight, his movements a bit stiff. He was most likely tense, nervous just like me, even though he was good at masking it. At least, I wasn't the only one here who was forced into this union.

Exhaling heavily through the nose, I entered the room. It was just as beautiful and cozy as the rest of the castle, the soft sofas with pillows and furs calling for one to sink down into them. It was hard to resist, though, my first steps led to the hearth. Flames danced around the logs, playfully licking them, sending waves of heat to the room. I lifted up my hands, warming up my frozen fingers above the fire. I sighed with relief. After few minutes, I called for maid and asked for cup of tea and while I was waiting, I sat down as close to the hearth as possible. Everything was so soft, warm and comfortable that at some point I had to doze off. I was woken up by the sound of closing door. Naively thinking that it was the maid with tea, I didn't hurry to open my eyes thus I didn't see it coming.

Two big hands landed on every side of my head, caging me in, knee pushed between my legs. Before I could make a slightest sound, cold lips shut me up. I was punching into the body above me with all my strength, but the male didn't seem to even feel it.

"Ah, sister," Zima sighed mockingly and his head fell to the crook of my neck. "You look so beautiful today. I almost fell on my knees when I saw you. So pure, so.. lovely and so freezing out there."

Catching on my breath, I pushed against his body, unable to make him move even inch. "Get off me," I whined, tears stinging my eyes.

"I saw the way that bastard was looking at you. I won't let him have what's mine," he mumbled, completely ignoring me as he nuzzled to my neck. I felt sick.

"Let go," I cried, but my voice wasn't more than a whisper.

"Once I get rid of him, you will be mine, only mine." His hand landed on my waist, slowly travelling up the corset.

I was kicking and punching around, eyes firmly closed, sobs escaping through my lips. I didn't hear the knock on the door, but Zima did. At last he let go of me and stood up. I was trembling heavily when maid opened the door, eyeing us. She seemed to be startled finding us at first, until she looked properly at me. Her brows furrowed.

"I brought your tea, my Lady. Excuse my impudence, but you look a bit dishevelled after the long journey. Would you mind if I helped you get ready? There's not much time left before ceremony starts."

"She doesn't need-" Zima growled, eager to get rid of her. I couldn't let that happen though.

"Be so kind, please," I mastered to say it aloud enough, my voice uneven.

She put down the tea with kind smile and stared Zima down with raised eyebrows. His fingers curled into fists, teeth gritted.

"Later, sister," he hissed as marched out.

My heart throbbed in my throat, hands shaking wildly. I tried to hide them in folds of the skirt to no avail. The maid already noticed it.

"Are you okay, my Lady? Should I call for someone?"

"N-no, it will s-stop soon."

She smiled at me compassionately and offered me the tea. "This might help you, my Lady. I figured out you would be nervous before the ceremony, so I prepared a calming tea."

"It's kind of you. W-what's your name?"

"I'm Millie, my Lady," she bowed. She was small lesser faerie with light blue skin, pointy nose and hair sticking from her head like fragments of ice. Her intelligent eyes were the deepest shade of blue I'd ever seen. She was lovely in her own unique way.

I accepted the cup and while I was sipping the hot liquid, she pulled out small bag and tissue from her pocket.

"If you don't mind, I would start with your lipstick. It's a bit smudged."

My hand flew to my mouth, eyes wide. "I-I.."

"It's all right, my Lady," she spoke softly with understanding expression, holding my hand. "Whatever you need, I'm here."

After helping me with make up, she stayed with me until I calmed down and then she excused herself. It didn't took long and another knock sounded on doors.

This time it was that female who stood behind the High Lord when we arrived. She was a real beauty with her long hair, bright blue eyes and snow white skin, her cheeks slightly pink. Since I saw her for the last time, she had put the sword away and changed into beautiful light blue dress with silver embroidery. When she spotted me near the hearth, her perfect lips curled into big smile.

"Hi there," she beamed merrily. "We didn't have a chance to introduce when you arrived. I'm Viviane, Kal's childhood friend and captain of the guard. I'm so happy to meet you."

After my awkward introduction, she stepped closer and looked at my skirt, specifically at its lower half where small diamonds were added to the embroidered snowflakes.

"This is so nice and skilfully made. I've never seen anything like this," she marvelled. "Your dress is absolutely dreamy. Such a beautiful bride! Even Kal was stunned when you got off the sleigh and that's what to say. He won't be swayed so easily by anything."

"Thank you," I wasn't sure what else to say. I nervously fidgeted.

She tilted her head to the side, thinking. "Just one tiny little thing, if you don't mind." She reached for the veil that Millie secured to my hair before she left, and smoothed its hem. Viviane backed a bit and smiled.

"Now everything is perfect! You look like porcelain doll." She was so kind and friendly, that I didn't know what to do with it. I'd never experienced anything like this in my life.

"Oh, dear," she took my hands and gently squeezed them. "I really hope you will be happy here and that we will become friends. Kal looks like a heartless and reserved person, but under the hard shell is soft and kind heart. You can count on him in anything. He can be ass sometimes, but if necessary, I'll gladly beat him down instead of you. No need to worry."

I chuckled, feeling little easier. Maybe this place wouldn't be so bad after all. "I'm counting on you then."

"Sure, dear," she winked and got a bit serious, her voice still so soft. "It's almost time. Are you ready? If you need, I brought a bit of liquid courage with me."

"It won't be necessary," I shook my head and took a deep breath. "I think, I'm ready."

"Okay. Your family should be already with the rest of the guests, waiting. If you have questions about Kallias or something else, I can try to answer them while we get to the cathedral."

As it seemed, the cathedral was a place made of clear ice, basically a greenhouse like building, just more bigger and magnificent. It was built on reef above the gorge, visible from castle as well as from the city on the other side. Usually closed white chiffon curtains were wide open for this special occasion, letting anyone see inside. As I walked with Viviane down the passageway connecting it with the castle, I noticed a crowd on the other side of gorge, watching.

That's when Viviane whispered to me: "Entire city came to celebrate your wedding. Everyone is so excited ever since they heard about it. There will be great feast and music on the main square after the ceremony. You should see how beautifully they decorated it."

I wasn't sure what to think or feel anymore — all emotions mixing together until the only one I could recognize was fear. I was scared of this unknown place, of the wedding itself, of the life with male I didn't know, of all the faeries watching me. Most of those I met with here, were kind and friendly so far, but would they be so nice knowing what I was? I strongly doubted that. Viviane must have sensed my unease and squeezed my hand firmly.

"Everything will be fine. You aren't alone. I'm here for you anytime you need. Kal is here for you, too. He doesn't indulge in harming others and avoids such situations if possible. He will protect you and take good care of you. I'm sure he will. I know him all my life. His father is very similar. If you want, you can see your family as often as you like."

However soothing her words were, it didn't help much. My bottom lip kept trembling as I followed her on unsteady legs. I was so glad to see my father waiting outside of the cathedral for me. I threw myself into his waiting arms.

"My little girl," he breathed out into my hair. We stayed like that for a while, none of us speaking. When father pulled away at last, he wiped away hot tears and cleared his throat. "We should go. The guests are waiting."

I swallowed hard. I wasn't ready yet, but I never would be. All I could do, was to let go and leave it up to the fate to lead my steps. I prayed to the Mother for nothing more but a peaceful life. Father took the lead and I followed him, squeezing his arm.

The inside of cathedral was nicely decorated. Snow was falling from the ceiling, disappearing before it could touch anything. Tall evergreens dusted with white and silver stood in the corners, green garlands with cream colored flowers and gold bows lined the aisle with thick beige carpet in its middle.

There were too many eyes watching me from benches, so I found one spot and concentrate at.. him. My gaze was drawn to Kallias who stood at the altar, his back turned to me. He really changed from the military coat, now wearing pure white clothes embroidered with gold. His shoulders were rising and falling with every his breath.

I was almost at the steps leading to the altar when he finally turned around. His expression was guarded, jaw tight, yet he was handsome. His eyes, however, didn't seek out mine, merely stopping for a second at me. It seemed that nobody else noticed that he gazed somewhere behind me. The change in his emotions was so subtle that it was invisible to the eyes that didn't pay attention too closely, but I noticed it. His expression slightly softened at first and then twisted with longing. My heart skipped few beats, suddenly much heavier as realization hit me.

He was looking at Viviane.

[gorgeous777]

Unfunny, George Weasley x Fem. Reader

He does his best to cheer you up.

A/N: Based off a character ai bot I made, go check it out! The story is about period comfort, but it's only implied with the bot, so do with that what you will :) Also, sorry this one is kind of short 😔 https://share.character.ai/Wv9R/beiu733m

Enjoy!

_________________________

He tried to be the best boyfriend he could be. And he succeeded for the most part. The day had started off normal. Boring, mostly. He and Fred hadn't planned any pranks for today, so things were mellow. All up until you didn't show up to charms class, that was. He noticed almost immediately, as the two of you sat together in that class. The minutes ticked by, and you wete still nowhere to be seen. He glanced around the classroom. Nothing.

Passing period ended, and you hadn't shown. Half concerned half curious, he hopped out of his seat and walked over to your firend. If he didn't know where you were, then maybe they would. Much to his dismay, they said you'd gone to see Madame Pomfrey halfway through last class. Just then, Professor Flitwick walked into the classroom. He cursed inwardly and jogged back over to his seat. That complicated leaving class to go see you. His eyes flicked around the room with thoughts running a million miles per hour. Thinking up different ways to get out of class quickly and unnoticed. Or to come up with an excuse to leave. Something full proofed.

He sneaks a glance into his bag. Nothing. He just goes for it and rifles through it until he found something: Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder! It was perfect. Stealing another glance around the classroom to make sure nobody was looking at him, he concluded now was the time to strike. He chucked the block at the floor to which it instantly combusted and the room went pitch black. Panic set into the classroom and Flitwick shouted "Weasley!" He snickered and booked it out of the classroom while he could.

Sure enough, he found you curled up in one of the beds when he got to the hospital wing. He frowned inwardly and made his way over to your bed. "Lovey what're you doing in here?" His voice was laced with worry as he spoke. Upon hearing his voice, you turn your head to look up at him. "Hi George" He sighs, dropping his bag on the floor. "Hi love" You scoot forward a bit, allowing him to slip into the bed with you. His arm slides around your torso, pulling you close and pressing your back to his front.

And then it came to him. A joke! Jokes always help lighten the mood. "Hey love?" You hum in response, to focused on the pain in your lower abdomen to verbalize a response. "How does a wizard organize a party?" His question puzzled you a bit. Nonetheless though, you gave a proper response this time. "I dunno.. Why?" He let out a snicker. "He spells them out!" You couldn't hold in the snort you gave at his horrible joke. Only he could think of something so unfunny. "Oh please George" He laughed a little. "What, it's funny?" You shook your head lightly. "I promise you it's not" His lips returned to your shoulder, and trailed soft kisses to the junction where your neck met it.

It's silent between the two of you for a while. Madame Pomfrey wasn't anywhere to be seen, off getting more potions no doubt. His hand slowly rubbed your stomach, the touch gentle and soothing. He'd hoped that you would tell him what was the matter, but after a long silence he could guess you weren't. So, he asked. "You gonna tell me what's the matter love?" His voice came out a low murmur, to which an audible sigh left you. Followed by instant regret of doing so as it made your cramps worse. He felt you flinch slightly and he instinctively held you a little closer. "Yeah, cramps, mostly.. Madame Pomfrey excused me from class to lay here until they go away because she need to restock on stuff to make me feel better"

That answer answer made him internally frustrated. There wasn't much he could do to help you feel better. Not literally anyways. He could keep cuddling you for comfort on an emotional level, which he would, but that was about it. He pressed his lips to your shoulder as he thought hard about how to make you feel better. As he thunk, the hand he had on your stomach slid down to your lower abdomen and rubbed there instead. He furrowed his brow heavily. His mind was blank or dearth of useful ideas.

"I promise you it was"

[deadbeandrop]

ahem. and if i may be completely unwell about the moose and slug for a moment,

i keep thinking about a post-story scene where lumpus and slinkman's relationship is still in rocky territory, and they have like... kind of a half-arguement getting ready for bed and it doesn't really go anywhere but there's still a tension in the air, and then a moment of silence as they settle and face each other in the dark. there's a beat. and then slinkman just... reaches over to take lumpus' glasses off (he'd always been in the habit of adjusting them over the years), and he's confused for a second, and slinkman's just like "you shouldn't sleep with those on. you're going to break them" which is like, ah, yes, completely logical action, and something he's told him a million times,

but it's Also like "Oh, God. even when you don't have to anymore, and you said you'd stop doing it all the time, and you're mad at me, you're still taking care of me just because you care enough to that it's complete subconscious instinct for you to do so. i'm gonna jump off a cliff"

because, when you're in the dark, in complete silence, sharing a shoddy pull-out couch bed in the basement of your stupid hand-me-down bait-and-tackle shop with your life-long best friend, your only friend, almost a bit like you used to when you'd push your beds closer together at night the camp you loved all those years ago, well, then there's also nothing else around to distract from the fact that you appreciate that more than anything in the entire world

and so lumpus takes a second and is like ....Right. (voice crack) Of course. and turns to face the ceiling and feels like he's going to be sick <- (i love nausea being one of lumpus' gut responses to feeling things ❤️)

[inkyantace7]

I love my Forest for the Trees characters because like. there's nothing from the actual song there except appearance and vibes

There's nothing to pull "Forrest is nonverbal" from. There's nothing for "they do urban exploration" besides that I was hyperfixating on it and thought it would be cool. Rowan was made up from the vaguely violent behavior in the music video everything else was my own bullshit

[sunsburns]

guess

smut 18+, age gap, fem reader, underwear fixation

logan howlett loves to swear up and down that he’s too old to mess around with a pretty young thing like you. you’re out of his league in everything you do, from the way you can get up early in the morning and stay out late at night, stumbling back into your apartment in a fit of giggles, humming the last song that played at the club you were returning from.

he acts like he doesn’t notice, and he acts like you don’t exist. but the moment you bumped into him in the laundry room it’s been hard to ignore you.

it was wade who’d introduced the two of you to each other when he was giving logan the grand tour of the apartment complex, and they’d run into you while you were unloading a drier, tossing your clothes into a basket.

you in your tiny shorts and tight tank top, one earbud in and the other dangling by your chest. he tried hard not to stare, especially when you slowly straightened yourself up, holding your basket of clothes to your side, hair messy and sticking to your face a little bit.

it was hot in the laundry room, hell, the whole fucking building felt like a furnace now that the a.c. refused to work in the peak of summer.

but there you were, wide smile and open arms when wade shoved logan in your direction. you didn’t take it personally when he merely grunted at you, a slight nod to his head as a greeting. to logan’s surprise, your lips curled as you looked up at him, and you stared up at him like he was some kind of tree you wanted to climb.

no shame about it either.

logan’s eyes were drawn to your basket as wade spoke, retelling the whole story of how the two of you became ‘neighbour besties’, as he had put it. how you helped wade keep up with the ‘youngsters’, as he called them.

no, logan was too busy staring at a lacy black pair of panties sitting at the top of your basket. pretty little thing, pretty little bows to adorn it.

he slowly tore his eyes away from them and looked at you, then down to your hips where he could see your bright pink underwear, peaking out from the denim.

and maybe, in a dream or two, he imagined what those cute pink ones looked like in full. how it would be like to push you against your door before you could even unlock it, unbutton your shorts and dig his hands into them just to feel the soft fabric of your pretty pink underwear, soiled and ruined from how wet you were with want.

but for now, he’d have to do with the black lacy ones, he almost didn't want to take them off. running his hands over the fabric, grinning when your back arches against the bed, a little desperate, way too needy.

you’ve soaked them, all ruined just from him touching you, from the way his teeth teased you, pulling at the bows, running his nose over your clothed pussy.

logan hooked his fingers over the fabric at the center, pulling it to the side, tongue poking into your cunt, drawing out a whine from you. with an open mouth, he pulled back to see your slick, coated lips with a satisfied grunt.

logan pulled them back just to stare. fuck, they were so pretty. you were so pretty just sitting under him, in nothing but those pretty panties. yeah, logan might be old, but he can keep up for a night.

[ikeuverse]

i hate you | lhs

pairing: best friend's brother!heeseung x fem!reader  genres: fluff, humor, smut wc: 10.7k+

꒰ 𝅄 warnings ꒱ : lots of swearing, arguments, mention of drinking, parties. reports of sex scenes, oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex (use caution and protection).

꒰ 𝅄 synopsis ꒱ : you and your best friend's brother hated each other, almost as a matter of course between the two of you. but something changes when you wake up in his bed at the weekend.

꒰ 𝅄 notes ꒱ : i think this story has been in my subconscious for so long, idk why it took me so long to write it. it smells a lot like heeseung to me, so nothing was more fitting than doing it for him. i hope you like it!

꒰ 𝅄 masterlist ꒱

The rule of life is clear when you have a best friend and she has an older brother. Either you fall in love with him, or you don't get along with him and you both hate each other. In your case, more specifically, the second option would fit like a perfect glove. It was like a combo in your background to be best friends with Dahyun, and hate Heeseung, her brother. Not that you'd do it alone, he contributed to every ounce of your body boiling with rage for him.

As if he had been born to unleash the purest feeling of rage in your heart just by entering the room and breathing. But it wasn't as if you nurtured that alone either. Heeseung had the same great anger towards you because, according to him, it was because of you that Dahyun stopped being the innocent little girl she was.

It wasn't a good excuse compared to the times he'd taken you seriously. Still, even so, Heeseung felt angry just being in your presence and knowing that you went to his house and he couldn't do anything but make you angry until he heard you swear at him or try to throw something in his direction. Dahyun was the balance bridge to try to maintain an ounce of harmony between the two of you while you were all together, although it was almost impossible to maintain a pleasant atmosphere whenever you and Heeseung were in the same environment. Which was practically all day long.

There wasn't a single moment when you could get rid of him or he of you, because unfortunately – or fortunately – you were Dahyun's best friend. You met her before you even knew that your best friend had a completely asshole brother. He swore that Dahyun having a friendship would be a quiet thing because she was never one to have many friends. Heeseung would be lying to say that he wasn't looking forward to meeting the first person his younger sister had befriended after entering university.

He just didn't expect you to be introduced to him when Dahyun had her first binge at the frat party, with you holding her hair and introducing yourself as her best friend.

So it's this crazy girl who's my sister's friend? Heeseung's anger may have started first, but you certainly felt it more intensely as the months went by.

Heeseung always found you with Dahyun at insane moments, like the pool party where you lent your best friend your most revealing bikini. That night you threw him into the pool because you two argued, but before you could regret it, he pulled you in with him, getting you wet before you could show off your hours of hard work to maintain the beautiful, wavy hair that took so long to make.

War had been declared, and at every party you and Heeseung attended, something always happened to emphasize how the two of you couldn't stay on the same radar and in the same environment for so long.

Not this last time.

The remnants of last night invaded your mind like a little dream, where you knew it was far from a fantasyland. Friday night was party day at some frat house or at some rich person's house who could afford to buy drinks for a bunch of horny, partying college kids. You and Dahyun always went together, because at the end of the night, you would sleep at her house. And of course that happened. You just didn't expect to be in another Lee's bed.

You took a deep breath after you realized what had happened, remembering the exact moment when you argued with Heeseung. Nothing new for the two of you. But that night something seemed different about the way you and he argued about absolutely everything, like the amount of drink he poured himself. Or how you had accepted a drink from a guy who had handed you a glass because he was going to play and didn't want to drink anymore, Heeseung had scolded you for being reckless and, even if you were, if that had made him angry, then you had done the right thing.

But why were his eyes dark and shiny when he cornered you in the kitchen to swear at you? And why did you lean too far towards him when he tried to take the glass from your hand? The reason was canonized at that moment, with you wrapped in Heeseung's sheets.

The memory of his lips pressing down hard on yours to shut you up, your body almost turning to porridge when he softened to kiss you properly. And why on earth did you give in? Why did you kiss him back looking like you needed it? Your mind knew you did, but never, under any circumstances, would the two of you say that that need was blatant and that you were both waiting for what had happened.

Your thoughts were soon interrupted when a weight slid around your waist. His arms wrapped around you and pulled you close. You effortlessly felt Heeseung's chest pressing against your back. Your whole body stiffened for a few seconds but relaxed – without any explanation – when his hand rested on your stomach and his breath hit the back of your neck.

That breath you felt against your lips after he kissed you, as he whispered one last curse when he took you to his car and then brought you to his house. Heeseung's breath against your skin with every touch he made, with every kiss, sent shivers down your spine. You didn't want to think about the effects he had caused in just one night, while all those months later the only thing you felt for him was anger and disgust. But no, last night it was anything but that that you felt for each other.

You began to wonder how you were going to get out of there. Or worse, how you were going to bump into Dahyun and explain to her that, strangely enough, you had ended up in her brother's bed. It couldn't have been an accident because neither of you got drunk enough to blame it on alcohol, so what? What would you say when asked why you slept with Heeseung?

An involuntary sigh left your lips when he moved again, pressing you a little closer and nestling his face in the crook of your neck. Inhaling all your scent as if it were normal and he'd done it a million times before.

“It's not possible that you're actually doing this” your voice came out without thinking, not at all cordial or subtle as he continued to inhale your scent. You wanted to curse yourself even more as soon as you heard Heeseung's morning laugh. Rude, low, a real sin for your poor body that was processing everything that was still going on.

“What? I don't even get a good morning?” he asked in the same tone as the laugh and every word coming out of his mouth was truly a sin. You'd seen Heeseung after waking up countless times, but it wasn't as if you saw him seconds later as was happening now. Usually, it was a while later, his voice was normal at least, although his face was puffy from sleep and his hair slightly mussed. But it was nothing compared to what you were hearing at that moment.

“You're an idiot, you little shit” your hand went over his hand that was still on your stomach, trying to pull it away “I hate you, now let me go.”

As expected, Heeseung did the opposite of what you asked. Pulling you closer to him and, with the strength he was holding you with, he managed to turn you around and make your body face him.

“You hated moaning my name last night” he smiled with half-lidded eyes “Now why are you playing hard to get?” there was the Heeseung you remembered hating, even though he was so hot in a sleepy, lazy way. You held back with your hands to pull his face in and kiss him, messing up his hair even more and getting lost in those lips that were claimed as yours last night.

“Because—” your voice died right there, you had no answer to that. You didn't know why you were playing hard to get after having slept with him of your own free will.

The victorious smile on Heeseung's lips made you slap his chest, feeling the skin beneath your fingers. Remembering how you touched him and how he felt every shiver go through him every time your fingers slid across him and interspersed with your nails. Heeseung knew that some part of his body was marked by you, but he honestly didn't care.

Your eyes rolled down as soon as you noticed that he was shirtless, looking under the covers as much as you could. He wasn't wearing anything over it and didn't even seem to care about covering his chest when your eyes locked on the spot, your hands still gripping his chest ready to slap it again in case any silly jokes were made. But your face heated up when you noticed that, if he wasn't wearing a T-shirt, you were wearing his.

Heeseung noticed the way you recorded it all, and although it was amusing, he remembered how hot you had looked after putting on his T-shirt to sleep. With nothing underneath, just his clothes covering the curves of your body that he touched, kissed, and marked. And he'd be a dead man if he confessed that he wanted to do it all over again.

“You didn't like wearing my shirt?” he asked, breaking the silence that had settled between the two of you “Just take it off, I remember you're not wearing anything underneath anyway.”

“I hate you!” you let out a shriek, hitting him in the chest again before pulling the covers off your body so you could get out of bed in search of your clothes.

“Right, if it makes you sleep better at night, then I hate you too” he muttered, rolling his body across the bed to lie where you had been seconds before. Secretly smelling your scent on his pillow, as you searched for your clothes on his bedroom floor at that moment.

Hearing about the fine line between modern and contemporary art history was wonderful for you, one of your favorite classes. The grace with which the professor explained it so passionately, highlighting important points that you made a point of writing down in your notebook with a lilac-colored pen that Dahyun had lent you at the beginning of the class. It took up most of your thoughts from the moment you arrived on campus, taking your focus away from the fact that a few days ago you were lying on Heeseung's bed. And now you were sitting next to his sister sharing one of your classes.

Your thoughts traveled to another subject now… Did Dahyun know that you and Heeseung had had sex? It wouldn't be something to hide from your best friend, having heard from her a few times that the two of you had some kind of repressed hard-on. Of course, that made you and Heeseung even angrier, but it turned out to be true last weekend.

Dahyun was right, after all, and you didn't want her to be. Or did you?

“Y/n” she called your name in a whisper, making you turn your head to face her “The boys are waiting for us in the study room, do you want to go now or do you want to stop by for coffee?”

Back to the normal schedule where you would have to live with Heeseung and try to put aside what had happened between the two of you. Or at least try to. Carry on with your routine and chores and not pay attention to him like you always did.

Class ended and you felt your body dragging alongside Dahyun through the corridors to the campus cafeteria. It wasn't a long way, but dividing your energy between the class and the thoughts that flooded your mind had left you tired. The salted caramel coffee you always ordered might have some effect on your body right now.

And you were more than right.

After paying for the drink and some treats, the straw rolled around your lips as you sipped the drink that was your comfort. You could hear Dahyun's laughter every time the taste of coffee impregnated your tongue and you moaned with satisfaction. The whole way to the study room was filled with these moments that the two of you shared as you sipped your drinks and tried to balance the takeaway bags.

“Am I seeing a mirage or did you bring food?” Jay almost knelt to thank you and Dahyun when you entered the study room.

“Are you guys hungry or something?” she asked, stepping in front and placing the bag of food on the small table around some cushioned armchairs.

“Our class finished early and someone forgot to stop by the convenience store” Sunghoon sat down on the floor, legs crossed and his face almost shoved into one of the bags to look for something that interested him. Finding a filled brownie, he took it without asking permission, even though he didn't need to.

“He's in over his head, isn't he?” Jake nudged Heeseung, who had been quiet the whole time since you and Dahyun arrived.

Looking at your best friend, you saw her sit down next to Jake as if it were something mechanized as if she had to be there without any kind of effort. It was cute how close the two of them always were. But your mind went into overdrive because as she sat next to him, the only seat left was next to Heeseung.

“What?” he asked, shaking his body at the slight shock Jake had caused him. Adjusting his posture in the armchair, Heeseung swallowed as soon as he felt a weight next to him, indicating that you had sat there.

“You forgot to stop by the convenience store to pick up some food” Jay grumbled “What are you thinking, man? You haven't answered us since you came to class today.”

Playing the misunderstood had been a mutual agreement with everyone in the room. They had seen you and Heeseung leave together, but if neither of you had mentioned anything, none of them would do it. Playing the game of not knowing anything about you and him was the best thing. At least until that moment.

“I'm just sleepy, don't fight me” Heeseung grumbled, stretching more than usual so that he could annoy you, as he had done ever since the two of you met. He could hear you taking a deep breath next to him, holding back a little so as not to swear at him before the study session even started.

Heeseung mentally thanked his friends for the lame excuse he'd given, because they all started to engage in side conversations as he slipped a glance in your direction. Your fingers held the coffee cup with a certain lightness, your thumb circling the cardboard that was possibly warm against his skin. Heeseung suppressed a smile, thinking about how your fingers had touched his body a few days ago.

He didn't want to think about anything involving the night you two had spent together, but even though it was recent, seeing you so close hit him hard. It was as if his mind betrayed him the very moment you sat down next to him and did the bare minimum to be noticed. There was no way Heeseung could think of anything other than you. The way you brought the cup to your lips and drank the coffee, for example. It made him think of your mouth kissing him, how easily your lips turned red as the kiss got more and more intense. How your mouth looked like the perfect shape of his cock when you wrapped it around you and sucked it, giving him the best blowjob of his life.

Fuck Heeseung, stop thinking about it. He told himself, or he'd get turned on just associating every single thing you did with the way he had you in his room, under his body, and in his bed.

The only way to make his thoughts go away and him not think like that was to irritate you, bring up the atmosphere of the argument you had with him, and thus get his friends to intervene and completely change the course of Heeseung's thoughts. And the way he thought was by taking the coffee cup from your hand, bringing it to his lips, and taking the last sip.

“Hey” you said loudly enough, trying not to shout because the study room was next to the university library “You ruined my coffee, you idiot.”

“I was thirsty, sorry” Heeseung pouted his lips, feeling the taste of salted caramel all over his tongue. He ran the tip of his tongue between his lips to wipe away any coffee residue. He just didn't expect your attention to be on his mouth. Without hesitation, your eyes traced the path of his mouth and the way his tongue traced his lower lip. That sparked something inside Heeseung because it showed that you were thinking along the same lines as he was.

“You're a real idiot” you said quietly this time, trying to look away as Heeseung bit his lower lip.

He leaned in a little but didn't manage to get close enough to tease you because he felt the famous slap on the chest that you gave him when he said something stupid. Ever since that morning in his bed.

“Ouch, that hurt” he cringed, dodging the next slap you'd give him. For the first time, the dynamic between you and Heeseung was a little closer and more physical. Usually, the two of you didn't sit near each other or you couldn't get there in time to hit him, Jay or Sunghoon always managed to hold you back first.

“Hey, stop it, you two” Jake broke off from an interesting conversation he was having with Jay, sharing a packet of sweets with Sunghoon in the process.

“It's not like you guys had sex at the weekend” Dahyun yawned, throwing the full weight of her head on Jake's shoulder.

“What?” you and Heeseung shouted at the same time.

Their eyes widened, their breathing quickened and their faces heated up as they looked at the four of them sitting in front of them. So they knew, but how? You and he had tried to be discreet the whole time, and you hadn't said anything to Dahyun, considering Heeseung's astonishment, showing that he hadn't said anything to his friends either.

“Come on, we saw you two leaving the party together” Jay sighed “We agreed not to say anything until one of you spoke.”

“But you're still fighting” Jake pouted.

“By the way” Dahyun squeezed the cup between her fingers, the coffee long since finished and she just needed something to munch on while she talked to Jake “I could hear you two when we got home” she looked at Jake for a few seconds, then at you and Heeseung. They exchanged frightened, embarrassed glances.

A hole could be dug right there that you wanted to bury yourself in and never get out of. There was no escaping it and no escape from your friends' looks and playful smiles. There was also no way you could face Heeseung after everything you'd heard, so your only way out was to make an excuse that you needed to go to the library to get a book to start studying. You left the room as quickly as you could and entered the door at the end of the corridor.

At least it was quiet there and you wouldn't hear any of your friends talking about you and Heeseung having sex, or about how they knew all along and didn't tell either of you. It hadn't been long since it happened, but you'd been with Dahyun all morning and Heeseung had probably spent a lot of it with some of the boys he shared a class with. So they waited for you to give them a break to say it out loud?

“Holy shit” you whispered to yourself, leaning on one of the shelves in a vast aisle of encyclopedias. Nothing there was of interest to you and you didn't necessarily need any of those books, but it had been the first aisle you'd found to enter and browse the various shelves in search of clearing your mind.

“It really is shit” the voice settled in your ears and went straight to your skin, sending shivers down your spine and making your heart race. Your heartbeat accelerated more than usual when you turned around and noticed Heeseung just a few steps away.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Go away!” you whispered at him, turning to one of the shelves to pick up any stupid books. If you'd never read encyclopedias before, that day could be your first. Then you'd be too busy reading and not paying attention to the boy who was slowly approaching you.

“I had to leave too, I couldn't stand that embarrassment alone” he said in the same tone as yours, stopping right behind you as he noticed your feat in trying to open a heavy book that had nothing to do with the classes you were attending “Besides, I came to tease you for being too scandalous” Heeseung's breath hitched against your ear, his lips almost kissing your skin.

You turned sharply, the book wobbling in your hands from the weight of it and the force with which you turned. But your reflexes were good enough to hold it steady while you stared at it.

“Me? Scandalous?” your indignation was palpable, along with your anger that was beginning to grow inside your chest at him and the arrogant smile he had “What do you mean?”

“That you moaned so loudly that my sister heard!”

“Motherfucker” you almost forgot you were in the library, wanting to scream in his face and curse him with every swear word you could think of “I didn't moan that loud.”

“Yes, you did” he said.

“No, I didn't” you answered back, not realizing that you had taken a step forward and leaned your body against his. Heeseung took the opportunity to take the book from your hands, the weight shifting to his arms as he put it back on the shelf. Now having full access to you and your body in front of him.

He knew you hadn't moaned out loud, not least because he managed to shut you up every time. Making you moan against his mouth or listening closely when your mouth was close to his ear, having the most beautiful moan Heeseung had ever heard in his entire life.

“On a scale of zero to ten, if I say you moan scandalously…” Heeseung began, his speech somewhat meek “How angry will you be?”

“Ten, obviously” you hadn't even hesitated to answer, regretting it the second he smiled.

“So you moan too scandalously” such a simple sentence, but one that practically tore away the last bit of calm you had with Heeseung. Not that it ever really existed, but at least you tried inside the library.

As if it was the right thing to do, you raised your hand to hit him as you had been doing so often in the last few moments, but he acted quickly. So fast that neither of you could process it. Heeseung's long fingers wrapped around your wrist and he pulled you against his chest, wrapping his free arm around your waist to press you down and give you no chance to escape. The warmth of his fingers against your skin made you hold your breath and close your eyes, almost like a memory of what was about to happen.

It was the perfect cue for Heeseung to lean towards you and touch the tip of his nose to yours. His breaths mingled and his eyes closed to revel in the sensation of being so close to you again.

He wanted to touch your mouth, kiss you, and be able to leave with you. To remember the softness of your lips and how perfectly your mouths fit together as if the two of you had learned everything from each other. Even though the two of you shared hurried, slow kisses, none of them were disproportionate or out of rhythm. You and Heeseung managed to find harmony and synchronicity in every movement.

“Oh, shit” Jay's voice made you and Heeseung break apart quickly, startled by the closeness and realizing that if the brunette hadn't arrived, you and he would have kissed right then “Sorry, I—”

“You owe me lunch for a week” Dahyun appeared beside him, smiling openly as her eyes landed on you and Heeseung. He didn't need to look at you to know that you also shared a confused, albeit frightened, expression as to why Jay and his sister were there in the library.

“What did you two bet?” Heeseung asked the dreaded question, opening and closing his fists and holding back the urge to touch you again, even if it was in front of the two who were still there.

“That you and Y/n would be kissing” Jay said “But the two of them never actually kissed, so I don't owe you anything.”

“Yes, you do!” Dahyun protested, pushing Jay out of the hallway and leaving you and Heeseung completely unresponsive.

It would have been a smart idea to avoid going to any parties after what happened, in case you both regretted it. But that wasn't exactly it.

As the week went by, the teasing between Heeseung and you continued with a little more intensity, adding to the spice of what had happened between you, and now things had become a little more physical. Like him having to get too close to you and touch your hair after getting on your nerves, or how your hand wrapped around his arm – unnecessarily – so you could avoid Heeseung when he was near the kitchen counter teasing you before you left and went to his sister's room.

Things were getting heated and neither of you made any move to actually stop or that it wasn't affecting you anymore, quite the opposite. As the touching persisted or you paid too much attention to each other's actions, things got more and more complicated.

That was why Heeseung now found himself with a red glass in his hand, bringing it to his lips and feeling the bitter taste of alcohol go down his throat. He could have refused to go to that party after Sunghoon insisted, with the excuse that the class had been terrible. Even though he had slept through most of it. At least they were at Yeonjun's parent's house, the rich boy and Jake's friend who always gave up his house when the fraternities hadn't recovered after a few parties over a short period.

At least there was somewhere to sit, a room without too many people and the music wasn't too loud. The pool room that the boys usually went to when they wanted to escape the crowds, but didn't want to leave the party completely.

“Man, I love it when we’re here” Yeonjun sighed, sitting across from Heeseung and next to Jay “I wanted to run away from Stacy all night.”

“Is she annoying you?” Jay held back a laugh.

Talking about girls was the main topic when Yeonjun was around, and it wasn’t such a bad thing. Sharing experiences and even talking about how their current relationships were going, just as Jake made a point of praising Dahyun and how the two of them were getting along better and better. At some point in the conversation, Heeseung didn’t even bother to share anything, feeling shy for the first time. You had been the last girl he slept with, and talking about it, about the intimacy you two shared made him embarrassed. It wasn’t that he would brag every time he got with someone, on the contrary, the poor boy was the most teased because he rarely kissed a unit on the mouth at a party.

Maybe it was his chance to say that he had finally kissed someone after so long. But he wanted to keep it all to himself as if he felt jealous of sharing every detail about you.

“And you, Heeseung” Yeonjun called him as if he could read his thoughts. “Did you finally have sex?”

Sunghoon choked on his half-drunk drink, biting the plastic cup as he looked at his friend and noticed the shocked expression on his face. Yeonjun didn’t know anything about what had happened, especially since he wasn’t that close to you and Dahyun. He knew you two by sight and exchanged a few words because you were always around, but it’s not like he knew everything about you.

“He definitely had sex” Jake bit his lips to keep from smiling “Guess who?”

There wasn’t a single name that crossed Yeonjun’s mind, it was so difficult to associate Heeseung with anyone. Just like they associated Jake with Dahyun or Yeonjun with Stacy. Heeseung didn't have anyone on his radar, and the boys didn't know which girl had ever mentioned his name as a possible sexual companion.

A short period of silence fell over the room, and Jay's impatience quickly cut through.

"Y/n" he said.

“What?” it was Yeonjun’s turn to almost choke on his drink when he decided to take a sip of his beer. “Don’t you two, like, hate each other more than anything in the universe?”

I thought so, Heeseung had that answer on the tip of his tongue, almost wanting to say it out loud.

“So our dear Lee has a powerful dick” Yeonjun joked.

“Dude, we can ask Y/n if he has a small dick or not” Jay suggested.

“That’s cute, we’re finally going to know about his dick” Jake faked a cute voice, pouting and everything to get in on the joke.

“I don’t have a small dick, you idiots” Heeseung wanted to sound angry, although that joke was always there. Talking like that or about sexual performance with some girl… It would be disgusting if it was a conversation that happened often, but it wasn’t. It was just at times when they all wanted to escape from everything, to be in a universe where only boys existed and they could talk about anything.

A laugh filled the room before Heeseung or any of the boys could respond. Turning to the door, there you were. Standing with your hand on the doorknob and the other holding the plastic cup.

“Y/n!” Jay called out to you excitedly.

“Hey Y/n, is it true that Heeseung—” Yeonjun was interrupted by a flying plastic cup, hitting him in the chest as Heeseung threw it.

You had heard the entire conversation before entering the wrong room, looking for a bathroom to pee in. Your eyes scanned the room, seeing how relaxed and happy the boys were, far from those people you were starting to get bored with.

“Wrong door, sorry, boys” you waved and smiled at all of them, stopping your eyes on Heeseung for a long moment. Analyzing every inch of his body. Every piece of clothing adorned that man’s curves very well. Wide pants, white tank top, and leather jacket. A cardinal sin was that his hair was slicked back and the silver chain showing well above the collar of the tank top he was wearing. Luckily for you, the music was loud enough that no one could hear the force with which you swallowed when you noticed Heeseung’s collarbone was more exposed than usual. Waving to all of them, you closed the door as quickly as you opened it.

He tried to process what had just happened. Did your laughter indicate that you had heard the conversation, giving the boys room to think that he had a small dick? It wasn't possible… Heeseung couldn't believe it, even though it was true as he started to hear his friends making fun of your reaction.

If she laughed, it was because she agreed.

Does he really have a small dick?

Shit, Heeseung, she's teasing you.

He didn't want to hear anything from his friends anymore, the small flame of anger consuming him for teasing him like that in front of his friends. It wouldn't stay like this. Heeseung wouldn't let you get away with it, just like you almost didn't let him get away with it on library day.

Without time for goodbyes or small talk, Heeseung left the room in a hurry, opening the door and closing it without giving time for protests or for any of the boys to follow him. Now, in the middle of the small crowd in the hallway, he dodged some dancing and sweaty bodies, looking everywhere in search of you or his sister who, perhaps, could know where you were. Heeseung had a small spark of hope that he could find you before you went somewhere he couldn't find anymore. Or worse, that you started to feel tired and drunk enough to want to leave.

Running down the stairs, he reached the ground floor in record time, even with some people getting in his way. Heeseung walked from one room to the other, his eyes increasingly attentive to the people, scanning the place until he finally found you. Standing at one end of the table with glasses piled up in front of you, while his sister was at the other end with a few more girls.

“My turn to play,” one of them said, excited enough to grab the ball and throw it before it fell into one of the cups. She and Dahyun celebrated that you would have to drink, and from the look on your face, it wasn’t that good.

Heeseung took hurried steps towards the table, watching you take the ball out of the cup and drink all the contents inside.

“How disgusting” you stuck your tongue out, making a fake vomit sound before discarding the empty cup right next to you. “Now it’s my turn” but your turn didn’t come. Before you could even throw the ball into one of the cups in front of Dahyun and the other girl, Heeseung grabbed your arm and slid his fingers through your hand until he took the ball out. “What the fuck—”

“I need to talk to you” he said.

“Oh, that’s our girl, finally Y/n!” you wanted to ignore those comments, especially because Heeseung’s eyes were so intense and focused only on you. He didn’t care that the girls were joking about that situation, or how Dahyun was saying some teasing things in a playful tone. As if his gaze was capable of erasing everything around him and leaving only the two of you in the center of everything.

“Heeseung.”

“I said I need to talk to you, let’s go” he threw the ball to Dahyun, grabbing your arm again to get you out of there as quickly as possible.

Strangely you didn’t protest, just accepting the boy in front of you leading the way out of the party and through the front door. The air that hit your skin almost made you shiver, but Heeseung’s touch was capable of warming everything in your body without giving you a chance to feel the cold outside environment.

He stopped walking as soon as the two of you passed through the entire front yard, the sidewalk almost devoid of anyone around. Everyone was lying on the lawn or the porch, except for the excessive amount that was already inside Yeonjun's parents' huge house.

“What do you need to talk to me about?” you finally asked, letting your voice be heard by Heeseung after a while of silence between the two of you. He then let go of your arm, turning towards you to face you. Looking around a little, he wanted to make sure that he wouldn't be interrupted or, worse still, that someone would hear your conversation. People had a slight impression that you and Heeseung always argued, but the only ones who listened attentively to this were your friends and his sister. Heeseung didn't want anyone else to know about these little details.

“You heard the boys’ conversation upstairs, didn’t you?” he asked you. His tone was usually serious, but with a hint of anger that was always directed at you.

“Wanting to know if you have a small dick? Yeah, I heard you” you laughed a little, regretting it the second Heeseung approached you. His eyes were glazed over anywhere on your face, at least you knew where he was looking. His chest rose and fell in a rapid breath as he leaned in enough to be able to look you in the eyes without losing your attention.

“Do you find this funny, Y/n?” his low tone of voice never had any effect on you, on the contrary, it always instigated you even more to tease him. Smiling now and then, pushing Heeseung’s buttons when he seemed mad at you. But this time it was different, his voice seemed to fade away as he said things to you that way. The look still in your eyes, now falling to your lips “So you think I have a small dick?”

“I didn’t say anything about that—” you were quickly interrupted.

“Answer my question” he said “Do you think I have a small dick?” Heeseung’s hand touched your waist, pressing his fingers tightly against the spot before pulling you against his body.

You swallowed any sound that could come out of your lips so as not to give him the satisfaction of seeing the effect he was having on you. Your pride spoke louder at least at that moment.

Thinking of all the possibilities that could answer his question, something popped into your mind. The instinct of rivalry and fight between the two of you couldn’t end so soon, and you knew that a remnant of the old Y/n that started all this with Heeseung still lived inside you. So you did the right thing by whispering those words.

“On ​​a scale of zero to ten, how angry will you be if I say yes?”

Heeseung felt like an idiot for letting a smile appear on his lips so easily, especially because of you.

“We’re going home right now, tell my sister to go with Jake” he said, not taking his hands off your waist until he took you to the car and they left that party.

You were both experiencing a little deja vu from the first night you were together, but something at that moment seemed to be a little slower. You arrived at the apartment without much of a rush because Heeseung drove carefully; the city streets at that time were not a safe place to speed, even if he was in a hurry. The silence in the building's elevator was not uncomfortable, much less the rustling of the keys when he opened the apartment door.

The path to his room was led by him, with dragging and slightly nervous steps – which you didn't notice and he was grateful – because you were equally nervous. The last time you made this path, you were in Heeseung's arms and with your mouth glued to his. Shy giggles and messy words were said as the two of you tried to balance each other until you entered his room.

When you entered the room again, the smell of Heeseung's cologne was still in the air. The same smell he had all over his clothes and inside the car, showing that when he had put on perfume a few hours before going to the party, the smell still lingered in the air. Your eyes searched around in search of some recognition, mentally cursing yourself for remembering practically everything. The shelf with trophies he had won, video games stacked perfectly next to each other, some dolls and superheroes. Nerd stuff that you had played with him for so long outside of that environment, but being in Heeseung's personal space and taking a good look at it was something new for you.

At that moment your thoughts flew to the boy in front of you who, delicately, wrapped his hands around your waist this time. The tender touch was a total opposite of what the two of you had been having lately, about everything that involved you and him. Heeseung pulled you closer, his forehead slowly touching yours, while one of his hands left your waist to touch your face. The touch of his fingers against your skin immediately made you close your eyes.

“Do you miss being here?” he asked in a playful tone, but the softness of that question made you wonder if you really missed being there. Even though it was the second time you had stepped into Heeseung's room under those circumstances.

“You're the one who misses having me here” you teased.

“Maybe so” he shrugged, smiling when you seemed surprised by his sudden confession, but you didn’t dare open your eyes. Shy enough not to be able to look at Heeseung while he was still caressing your face.

You had both consumed a little more alcohol than the last time you did this, but still, neither of you managed to get to the point of getting drunk. There was no way you could tell him that you drank too much at the games with Dahyun and the girls, and much less could Heeseung use the excuse that he was drunk with the boys. Again, you were both in that situation because you wanted to be.

“Y/n” he whispered your name, taking you out of the little trance where you could only hear your calm breathing and your heartbeats against each other due to the proximity of your body to his.

“Yeah” you answered.

“Can I kiss you again?” the first time he didn’t ask for permission in that scenario, Heeseung’s lips were simply against yours. But now, there inside his room, everything seemed different. All the tenderness and calm that you were strangely enjoying, while he didn't know exactly why he was caressing you so lovingly and asking permission for something he had already done.

“Yes, please” your answer surprised him more than it surprised you. You even said please, something that had never happened to him. Usually the only thank you you gave Heeseung or the only word of cordiality you said to each other was the famous good morning, and when Dahyun still insisted on the two of you.

Finally, Heeseung's lips pressed against yours, the soft touch of his mouth sliding over yours before he opened his mouth and urged you to do the same. Heeseung's chin slowly pressed against yours to keep your mouth open and enter his tongue into your cave, searching for your tongue and intertwining the two gently.

Although there was urgency in each touch, in how he wanted to kiss you and how you wanted to be kissed by him, something unsaid – but understood – was that you both wanted to enjoy that strangely pleasurable moment for both of you. Your hands went up to make contact with the collar of the jacket he wore, running your thin fingers under the leather before grabbing Heeseung's shoulders. Your skin against his made him sigh during the kiss, bringing you closer and walking with you towards the bed. Stopping only when his calf touched the wood indicating that he had reached where he wanted.

He was the first to stop kissing you, placing small kisses on your chin until he reached your jaw, where he lightly scraped his teeth and smiled when he saw the skin on your neck start to get goosebumps. You didn't want to be left behind, so your hands forced themselves on his shoulders to loosen his jacket and make it fall halfway down his arms. Heeseung grew impatient with that piece of cloth and soon got rid of the jacket, not bothering to throw it on the bedroom floor, wrapping his arms around your body again.

Heeseung returned with his lips against your skin, brushing whenever he could on every little spot before alternating with the tip of his tongue a short path down to below your ear. His breath so close was enough to make you go a little crazy more.

“We can—”

“We can do whatever you want” he told you, kissing the spot below your ear and returning to position his face aligned with yours. Foreheads together and feeling her breath hit his lips “Tell me and I will do it.”

It was your turn to kiss Heeseung, your hands holding his face to keep him close while his tongue wrapped around yours again. The perfect fit of your mouths and how the two of you, despite your need, didn't let go and didn't make a mess of it. Yet.

Heeseung picked you up just to lay you down on his bed, snuggling his body between your legs without taking his mouth off yours. He pulled away momentarily to breathe before kissing you again with even more desire. At that point you felt like you needed him even more, your legs wrapping around Heeseung's hips who, you could tell, was holding back from making any risky moves. Even though you both wanted that. But it was impossible to hold back any longer because of the way the kiss started to get sloppy and lazy. You didn't know that you could get even more excited by the way Heeseung's tongue moved against yours or how the softness of his lips remained even after you abused them for so long.

Involuntarily your hips rocked, feeling Heeseung's erection rub against your clothed pussy, making you both moan in sync.

“Fuck” he moaned into your mouth, swallowing another moan of yours as he pressed his hips against you so you could feel a little more of his cock.

“Heeseung” your hands ran down his arms, your nails making a reddish path against his skin as you marked him.

“Are you going to moan loudly now?” he teased, lifting his head to look at you. It would be typical of Lee Heeseung to comment on that while he had a hard-on and was between your legs, you should have imagined that.

“I think you need to keep your mouth busy and stop talking shit” you rolled your eyes at him, holding yourself back so that your arousal wouldn't turn into anger and you would hit the boy.

“Your wish is my command, ma'am” Heeseung smiled so seductively that you asked yourself countless questions at that moment.

As he slid down your body, taking off each piece of your clothing without your protest, you wondered. Heeseung always smiled mischievously at you, although the effects were always the opposite of what was happening. Maybe the vulnerability in which you and he found each other at that moment made you with your senses heightened, paying a little more attention than necessary. Of course, you saw Heeseung up close, in his most intimate form, just as he saw you too. So that would be a good explanation for why you felt strange when he, at that moment, directed the smiles that you knew so well, at you.

Looking down at the exact second that Heeseung took off your panties, you noticed how lost in thought you were at that moment. Did he undress you so quickly or were you thinking too much about his smile to notice that now you were both naked? It didn’t matter, the job was done and now you fought against your racing heartbeat as Heeseung’s face lowered to be level with your pussy.

As if asking permission with a glance directed at your face, you nodded slowly as he adjusted himself between your legs and placed a kiss on your thigh. His lips tickled your skin before sliding down to your groin and finally finding your pussy.

“Heeseung— shit” you held back a moan between your lips as the tip of his tongue touched your clit. Swollen and in need of his full attention which he was more than willing to give.

Heeseung wrapped one hand around your thigh, bringing the other to your pussy to part your labia and spread all your wetness on his fingertips. It was a sight he didn’t think he would ever see, but one he couldn’t stop seeing now. He needed to be in that position at least once a day, if possible. Heeseung’s fingers made their way across your pussy lips until they reached your hole, circling it before pushing in. He looked up, his face fucking gorgeous as you fought the urge to open your eyes.

He wrapped his lips around your clit to suck on your bundle of nerves at the same time his finger was inserted into your hole. The two sensations flooded you as you let out the most beautiful moan. It wasn't scandalous at all, on the contrary, it was low and sensual. A reminder of how Heeseung was making you feel with just a few seconds of giving your pussy proper attention.

Moving his finger inside you, he included another and the two began working in and out of your hole. The wet sound of his fingers fucking you along with the moans you were letting out made his cock throb. Heeseung felt himself getting harder and harder, aching and wanting to be inside you as soon as possible.

“Hee” you moaned that nickname that had been heard only a few times, but that was enough to make him want to hear it again. This seemed to motivate you a little more, because Heeseung inserted the third finger into your pussy and, leaning down again, he went back to kissing your clit and any other place his mouth could reach.

It seemed like the way he kissed your mouth, kissing your pussy so perfectly that you were going crazy. Your hands found their way into his hair, tangling a few strands without having enough strength to pull them out. You focused as much as possible on how well Heeseung was fucking you and his fingers curling inside your warm walls. It was the second time you had sex, but it seemed like he knew every spot on your body and how you should be touched.

Heeseung felt your hole tighten against his fingers, licking your clit more slowly, although the intrusion of his fingers into your hole wasn't that slow. He smiled against your pussy, lifting his face from there and crawling until his face was flush with yours. His fingers didn't stop fucking you even though his mouth was far from your pussy.

“Are you going to cum?” he asked in a deep and hoarse whisper, making you open your eyes and almost actually cum at that moment. His chin was covered in saliva and your wetness, making Heeseung even hotter than he looked.

You nodded quickly to him, bringing one of your hands to Heeseung's chin and sliding your thumb over the spots on his skin to clean it. Any other time this would have been kind of cute, warming both of your hearts with the act. Although he appreciated your care even if he didn't mind having a little bit of you stuck to his chin.

“I want you to cum looking into my eyes” he whispered “Can you do that?”

You had no way of knowing if you were capable of it, especially when his fingers started fucking you again so slowly, but so intensely. He made sure to go all the way to his knuckles, rotating and scissoring inside you with precision. Wanting to feel your warm walls enveloping them as he penetrated you. A scream burst from your throat when his thumb touched your clit, where his lips had been minutes ago. You moved your hips to match the movements of his fingers and that made Heeseung almost go crazy.

Your hands went back to touching his hair, one of them going to the back of his neck to pull his face close to yours. Heeseung kissed you to share a little of your taste on his tongue, to show you how addictive you were not only to the kiss but to the taste of your pussy that he was already starting to get addicted to. This was starting to get too much for you, the way he moved his tongue around as he kissed you to muffle your moans and the way his fingers filled you up nicely. A few more small strokes and a particularly hard press on your clit and you came undone, cumming all over his fingers and squeezing them like Heeseung remembered your pussy being capable of.

He held you throughout your orgasm, his fingers still inside you until your walls stopped convulsing and tightening. Slowly sliding out with all of your cum running down your fingers and into the palm of your hand.

“That was…” your words slowly faded as you noticed him pull away a little, enough for him to be able to place his hand between your face and his. The glow of your essence covering every little part of Heeseung’s fingers made your face heat up. It wasn’t the first time you had cum with him, but seeing it so close made you feel shy… You came all that and only on his fingers?

With an air of pride for having been the cause of it, Heeseung smiled before bringing his fingers to his lips and sucking every little drop of you. Fucking hot. He licked it all up with determination, just like he had done on your pussy until there was nothing left for him to clean.

“That was what?” he turned his attention back to you, a small smile on his lips as he leaned in again and now Heeseung's hips were pressed against yours.

Your pussy was still sensitive as his throbbing cock made contact with your folds. He let out a hiss, low and whimpering at the warm sensation that hadn't yet enveloped him. You wanted to surprise him just like he did to you, so slowly your lips enveloped his. A slow kiss to calm your heart that was still racing from the post-orgasm, but preparing yourself for what was on your mind as you felt him melt into your lips.

It was the calmness of Heeseung kissing you and the way you took his lips at that moment. Feeling the attention you gave to each caress, when your hands slid over his body… He just didn't count on how fast it was when you grabbed his dick and slid the red and sensitive head into your entrance.

“Y/n… Fuck, holy shit” he moaned. Being taken by surprise by the sensation, but unable to contain himself when he felt your hot hole envelop him. Quickly his hips pushed forward as if he was trained to do it, as if Heeseung needed to do it without thinking, just being close to your pussy like something magnetic to his dick.

In a quick movement, his entire dick was inside you, and you both moaned at the same second. You because you felt filled by his dick, killing the longing that was to have him inside you. That would never be admitted out loud. While he felt the warmth and sponginess of your walls enveloping every inch of his dick. A hot embrace that he needed more than ever. Another thing that wouldn't be admitted out loud either.

Heeseung adjusted himself, one hand resting on the side of your head while the other found its way to your hip. Supporting himself and squeezing the flesh of your skin as he rested his forehead against yours, looking deep into your eyes before starting to move.

You remember that the first time you two had sex, Heeseung practically fucked you. The force with which his cock entered and left you, the way he ate you out and you sucked him. It was an almost angry but needy sex, where the two of you poured out teasing and moaning. But this time was different. He also remembered the way you and he gave yourselves to each other the first time. How his hips tortured yours as his cock went in and out, hearing you moan his name so much that Heeseung could think it was devotion to him.

But this time he moved masterfully. Slowly and carefully, but each time his dick entered, Heeseung went intensely to the bottom, putting just enough force to make his dick enter you completely and reach the limit that was being in your pussy, reaching your deepest point. His dick slid perfectly inside you, combining his pre-cum with your fluids and the cum from the previous orgasm, all combined with the way he moved.

To add even more intensity to the sex, Heeseung remained with his gaze fixed on your eyes. His hand on your hip tightened as he managed to reach the bottom of your pussy or when your walls squeezed him at a certain point. He was on cloud nine every time your hole swallowed him and he felt your walls being slid by every inch of him.

“Y/n” the whisper of his voice made you mumble softly, as if answering his call and telling him that you were listening. Not wanting to say too much or simply interrupt what he wanted to say to you “That’s amazing” he slowly kissed your lips, the hand on your hip sliding down to grip your thigh “You’re amazing.”

He didn’t even care if it had been said that way or how you would react. By the way your eyes were soft on him, your mouth half open letting moans escape, Heeseung could tell you felt the same way.

“You’re an idiot” you whispered “But you’re amazing too, Heeseung” he chuckled against your lips as he kissed you again.

The sharing of each movement of your tongues as they danced in sync with his hips that were still moving against yours. His cock throbbed inside your pussy indicating that he wouldn't last much longer than that, although your pussy was addictive and he could fuck you all night. But Heeseung wasn't that strong when it came to you – at least not in the last week that he discovered what sex with you was like – so cumming was more than a necessity for him at that moment.

He quickened the pace of his thrusts, the sound of his pelvis hitting against your thighs quickly in search of the apex to share a little more intimacy. Heeseung thrust his cock into you fast, but with a certain care that made your chest heat up. And that was a combination of the overwhelming sensations that the two of you were sharing. His cock went to the limit, touching your cervix as he started and going a little harder and faster to fuck you with a little more need.

Heeseung rested his forehead against yours again, a silent plea that he wanted to see you cum with him or simply see your expression when the two of you came together. And with a few more strokes you felt the burning in the pit of your stomach. Your hands ran to hold his face, afraid that the two of you would turn away and you wouldn't be able to look at him while you came undone on his cock.

“Hee” you called him before moaning close to his mouth, sharing accelerated breaths before your walls closed around his cock, cumming hard. More than the first time on his fingers.

That was too much for Heeseung to handle, he wouldn't be able to hold back the feeling of your walls convulsing around his cock. Your cum slid all over his length and hitting against his pelvis. Heeseung felt his balls ache as he continued to pound his cock into you until he finally came. The hot and long jets of cum inside your pussy, hitting your insides hard. He moaned your name tirelessly as he continued to move in search of prolonging both orgasms.

For a long moment, the two of you remained in that position, trying to normalize your breathing, which was still more than accelerated. Heeseung held you as if his life depended on it, and so did you. Little by little, after your pussy stopped squeezing him and his cock stopped twitching, he slowly raised his hips to pull out of you. Both of you moaning together were almost no longer connected as before, he threw himself next to you on the bed.

“Don’t move” Heeseung whispered, although he knew you didn’t have the strength to do it. With great difficulty, he got up and made the well-known path to the bathroom outside the room. Thankfully, no one had arrived from the party yet, having the apartment just for the two of you. When Heeseung returned to the room, he had a small smile on his lips as he lay down next to you again, bending over you.

“What…” he seemed to have the power to interrupt you on the strangest occasions, catching you by surprise with unexpected actions. He cleaned you carefully, leaving no trace of the two of you between your legs, just like he had done in the bathroom with himself a few seconds ago. Heeseung discarded the damp paper in the trash next to the computer table, lying down next to you again and wrapping his arm around your waist. Just like he had done the first night you and he slept together.

But this time it didn’t seem so strange to you. What was strange was that you liked the feeling of having him so close like this, facing him and resting your hands on Heeseung’s exposed chest.

“So you…”

“Don’t say anything to provoke me now or I’ll hit you” it was your turn to interrupt him, making Heeseung laugh as he pulled you closer and hid his face in the crook of your neck. You didn't know what happened to you after Heeseung touched you, because every little thing he did made your whole body shiver.

“I was just going to say…” he whispered, his lips close to your ear, but with a subtle tone that was rarely – if ever – used with you “If you still think you hate me.”

“I do” you answered quickly. Heeseung laughed against your ear, lifting his face so he could look at you.

“Then I hate you too” he said back, pressing his lips against yours, but not kissing them like he always did when he was close enough to you. “Can we hate each other like we did today, then?”

It was your turn to laugh, making Heeseung feel strange now. His heart skipped a beat at the brightness in your eyes and the way you frowned when you were smiling like that. Was he paying too much attention or were the two of you close enough that he couldn't notice anything other than you and what you were doing? He wasn't sure.

“I think we can hate each other like this” you replied, seeing the small hint of happiness in his eyes and in the smile he gave you.

Pressing his lips slowly to yours, you let him kiss you so subtly like you never thought would happen. Because after all, you and Heeseung hated each other.

And you would hate each other the same way you did in his bed.

© ikeuverse, 2024. do not copy, translate or steal my stories.

[mytherapyisreading14]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Summary: Spencer gets jealous when you work together with a police officer on your current case.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Category: Smut, some Angst and Fluff (18+ MDNI)

Warnings: alcohol consumption, making out in public, dirty talk, hair pulling, oral sex, unprotected sex (don’t do that), multiple orgasms, creampie, dom!spencer (kinda)

Word Count: 6,5k

Author’s Note: I spent the whole week writing this one even though I should be studying for my final exam next week (not stressed enough to study yet oops) and don’t really like how it turned out even though I don’t know why. I rewrote it a couple of times but I think I’m just gonna leave it like that.

Spencer sits at his desk, his brow furrowed and his eyes fixed on the situation happening in front of him. It looks like a normal day at the office — the sounds of keys being typed, phones ringing, and the hum of the coffee machine. But at that moment, Spencer is oblivious to all of it. His gaze is fixed on the table next to the window, and he can’t take his eyes off the scene.

A police officer, a young, good-looking man named James, is having an animated conversation with you — his colleague, friend, and the woman he’s been in love with for years. The conversation seems relaxed and full of laughter, as if you two are sharing funny stories from your personal lives. You laugh again and again, a gleam in your eyes that he knows all too well.

But that’s not all. James reaches for the documents he wants to hand you, and as he does, his hand touches yours for a moment. The touch is fleeting, almost accidental, but Spencer feels an uncomfortable sensation spreading through him — jealousy. “She’s laughing... he’s making her laugh,” Spencer mutters grimly to himself, still staring at you.

"What's wrong?" he suddenly hears Luke’s voice, who sits down at his desk with a smile. Luke has been watching Spencer for a while without him noticing. Spencer tries to concentrate, wiping his hand over his mouth as if that would drive away the thoughts. But it doesn’t help.

"Nothing," he grumbles, not moving. “Oh yeah?" Luke asks, grinning crookedly. "You know, you look like you're about to explode with anger at any moment. Can't you see you're driving yourself crazy?" Spencer was about to get upset, but he decides to stay calm.

“I... I'm just concentrating on my work," Spencer mumbles, his gaze constantly drifting toward you. Luke grins, knowing exactly what’s going on. "If you really want her, you'll have to do more than just watch." Spencer blinks. "What?" he asks. “You have to show everyone that she's no longer available. Put a ring on her finger, and the officer won’t come near her anytime soon," he says to tease him.

Spencer feels his throat go dry. Ring? That is the point where he perks up. He is about to say something else when suddenly a new laugh from you reaches him. James just made a joke — and you are laughing again. Spencer can no longer just watch. Hearing you laugh at something he said feels like a punch to his stomach.

“That's enough!" he growls, standing up abruptly, anger boiling up inside him. Luke raises an eyebrow and watches him. "Are you all right, man?" Spencer walks over to you without further ado. You are sitting at the desk, James just left to get more files, and your eyes are fixed on the stack in front of you. Spencer steps in front of you with firm steps.

“Do you have a minute?" he asks, his voice much calmer than he feels, while he tries not to make the words sound too harsh. He tries not to let jealousy flash in his eyes. You look up and smile at him, completely unaware of what is going on inside him. "Sure, Spencer. What's up?" you ask. “We need to talk." The quiet jealousy inside him is like a cold, steady pressure.

It isn’t just the flirting between you and James. It’s the way he looks at you, the way you react to him — having a conversation with the only woman he really wants. Spencer takes a deep breath and keeps his gaze on yours. “In private,” he adds when you make no sign of standing up. You look at him, confused. “Uhm… okay,” you say, and follow him.

Spencer and you are now standing behind the closed door of the small office. The room suddenly seems much smaller than it usually does. The air is heavy, almost uncomfortable, and Spencer has already turned around, his gaze returning to you. “So, how far along are you with the files?" Spencer asks harshly, phrasing the question less out of interest and more like a challenge. The words come quickly, almost too quickly.

“We're halfway through," you answer calmly, as if you don’t even notice the tension. “Halfway through?" Spencer’s eyebrows furrow, the lines on his face stiffening. "Damn, we should be much further along! We barely have any time left, and you're spending all your time with him instead of focusing on work!" You blink in surprise. "What are you talking about? James? We're well organized and work together. What's going on now?" you ask, confused.

“Oh, come on,” Spencer continues, now visibly upset. “The guy isn’t even interested in working on the documents. He’s just using the whole thing to flirt with you. It’s all just a game for him. And you’re falling for it!” He clenches his hands into fists. “He’s only doing this because he wants to get you into his bed, and he has no idea about the work we’re supposed to be doing here!” Spencer shouts.

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. A spark of anger shoots up inside you, and you take a step closer to him. “That’s not true, Spencer,” your tone is sharp now, the words harsh and disregarding the tension between you. “We just get along well, okay? That’s all!” you say.

“Oh, really?” Spencer snorts derisively and shakes his head. “You know exactly what he wants. And it has nothing to do with work, you can be sure of that. He talks to you, flirts with you, and you let it all go like nothing’s happening!” He spits out each word as if he couldn’t keep it in any longer.

You feel your heart rate increase. You clench your fists now too. "You have no idea, Spencer!" you hiss. Your anger continues to grow the more you hear his words echoing in your head. "You have no idea what's really going on here, and most importantly, it’s none of your business, okay? You are not my boyfriend." You secretly hope that he will object and tell you that this is what he wants, but he just keeps looking at you.

The air between you is electric, so thick and charged that it almost feels like it could explode. Spencer stares at you, his face tense, but you can see a mixture of anger and... disappointment in his eyes. But when you said that it was none of his business, it seemed as if something inside him was breaking. You can see it in his eyes.

"I understand..." he says with a bitter smile, but it sounds more like disappointment than an answer. You can’t stay in that place any longer. You want to get out of that room, away from him, from this tense situation, from his accusations. You just leave him standing there, without another word. You open the door and quickly leave the room, heading back to the office, where the rest of the team is still going about their daily lives.

-

Spencer sits at his desk, his eyes fixed on the maps in front of him, but his thoughts are everywhere — except at work. His gaze keeps drifting to the desk where you are sitting with James. You’re speaking to each other; he says something, and you laugh. Again. Spencer can’t stand it. The thought that this guy is getting closer and closer to you burns inside him like fire.

The moment you left the small office is burned into his memory. Your words, his reaction — it had all been a blow to him, even if he didn’t want to admit it. He felt hurt, disappointed, and even though he buried it deep inside, he knows that something inside him had broken.

At that moment, Luke appears again. He leans casually against the table, watching Spencer for a while before breaking the silence. "You look like you’ve just been through some personal drama," he says with a crooked grin that lightens the atmosphere but doesn’t obscure the seriousness of Spencer's face. "What happened, man? What’s wrong with you? Is it because of these two?" he asks and points over to you and James.

Spencer sighs and wipes his hand across his face before slowly turning back. "Nothing. It’s nothing." But even he knows he can’t hide behind that answer. “Come on," Luke urges, sitting down on the edge of the desk and leaning back. "I saw that. You’re not just annoyed. You look like you’ve just been through an argument. What happened?"

Spencer slowly turns Luke and shakes his head. "It’s... nothing important." He feels like admitting it would only weaken him further, so he continues in a short, clipped tone, "She’s just... she doesn’t understand me. I told her not to talk to the guy. And she... she doesn’t want to listen. So what?” Luke looks at him in silence for a moment. Then he snorts softly.

“You know, Spencer," he begins in a serious tone, "you both just have to stop ignoring what’s obvious." Spencer stares at him, unsure of what to say next. "I don’t know what you’re talking about," Spencer says. “Oh, come on," Luke says, looking straight at him. "You’re in love with her, and she’s in love with you. You two are just ignoring it like a couple of idiots."

Spencer blinks, his eyes widening for a moment as if the thought of Luke saying that caught him completely off guard. "What?" he blurts out. "What are you talking about? That’s not true. I’m not in love with her. I’m just trying protect her from getting hurt by that idiot.”

Luke leans in closer. "You look at her like she could change your life, and you roll your eyes every time James or another man is around, like it’s a personal attack on your precinct. And her? She’s just as torn, but she won’t admit it." Luke takes a moment before adding, "You two act like you're untouchable, like it’s just a working relationship, but that’s not true. You want each other. So stop lying to each other’s eyes."

Spencer opens his mouth, trying to say something, but then nothing comes to mind. What should he say? It’s the truth. But admitting that feels like losing all control. He feels weak and hurt, and the thought that Luke could see through it so easily doesn’t make it any better.

"I..." Spencer begins, but stops before he can reveal anything else. Instead, he turns back to his map and stares at the documents in front of him. He can’t look at Luke. "Just let it go," he says finally, his tone harsh. "I have to keep working; there’s still a lot to do." Luke sighs and shakes his head as he steps down from Spencer's desk. "You’re a stubborn man sometimes, you know that?" he says with a grin that shows no joy. "But if you keep getting in your own way, it’s no wonder you're wearing yourself out so much."

Spencer hears Luke walking away. But even now, Spencer can’t free himself from the thoughts that torment him. All this time, he believed he could control his feelings for you. But now that Luke brought it up so directly, he became painfully aware that he had become embroiled in something far more complicated than he had ever wanted to admit.

He looks back over to your desk, where you and James are still talking, but this time in a more relaxed manner. Spencer can almost feel the look James is giving you — and it’s driving him crazy. He snorts and tries to focus back on his work, but his thoughts keep drifting back to you. You are in his head, over and over, always have been. And the more he tries to ignore it, the stronger the feeling becomes. He can’t escape it.

At the end of the day, Spencer and you avoid each other. Spencer sinks back into his work, conversations with you are kept to a minimum, and at some point, you and James disappear together into a meeting that Spencer doesn’t even try to follow. It’s as if they are the only two sharing the room, while Spencer is lost in the loneliness in his head.

-

When all the work is finally done, the team decides to go to a bar to end the evening in a relaxed manner. Luke is now trying to persuade him to come along. "A little relaxation, a beer – that's good for everyone," he says. “Come on," Luke says. "You've been thinking about her and your stupid fight all day. A little fresh air, a beer, and a few relaxed conversations – that will do you good. And besides... it's always better to hang out with us than to sit around alone, right?" he asks.

"I don't know, man," Spencer grumbles as he stares at his book. "I'm really not in the mood to talk to people today." Luke shakes his head. "You say that every time. Come on. I'll get you a beer, and then we'll talk about something else. Otherwise, you'll go crazy!" Spencer sighs and looks at Luke.

"Will she be there too?" he asks, and Luke nods. Spencer knows you’ll still be mad at him, but he's a little relieved because it means that if you’re at the bar, at least you won't be spending the evening alone with James.

And even though Spencer doesn’t really want to be around, it’s way better than sitting in his room, thinking about you. So he gives in. "Okay, okay, I'll come with you. But if it gets too much for me, I'll leave," he says. “All right," Luke replies, immediately setting off and clapping his hands happily.

-

When they enter the bar, the mood is relaxed, and the music in the background isn’t too loud. It is a nice place – exactly what Spencer needs to clear his head. The stress of the day is suddenly far away, and he feels a little bit better. But when he looks around the room, he pauses for a moment.

At a table at the back of the bar, there are all the people from the police team they are working with on the current case. Spencer stops abruptly when he spots them. And to his horror, he notices that James– the guy who had been getting on his nerves all day – is there too.

But that isn’t the worst part. What upsets Spencer most is the sight of you. You are sitting right next to James again. He has a charming expression on his face as he explains something to you, and everything about his body language screams, "I'm interested in you." Spencer feels the wave of jealousy and frustration building up inside him again. "What the hell...?" he mutters quietly as he turns to look at Luke. "What are they doing here?"

Luke, who is heading towards the bar, looks around in confusion, then at Spencer. "What?" he asks. “All the people from the police team... and James. Why the hell are they here?" Spencer snorts as he tries to stay calm, but anger is seething inside him. Luke blinks and then looks around at the faces as well. "Uh..." he finally says, scratching his head.

“I didn't know they were invited too. I thought this was just for us. Really...?" He is visibly surprised. "That's weird. Well, whatever. We're here, they're here – it's not the end of the world, is it?" Luke says. “At least not for you," Spencer says and rolls his eyes. “I didn't know, man," Luke says apologetically. "If you want, we can leave. But I thought you wanted to distract yourself a little. Come on, it'll be fine."

Spencer really just wants to get out, but he knows he can’t just disappear without being noticed. The whole group already saw them, and it would be even weirder to just turn around and leave. So he takes a deep breath to stay calm. “I'm staying," Spencer finally says, even though the thought of just standing there almost drives him mad. "But if that guy talks to her like that again, then..."

"You're exaggerating," Luke says, patting Spencer on the shoulder. "Come on, let's get something to drink first, okay? That will make it easier to bear." Spencer nods, even though he feels the restlessness inside him. “I urgently need something to drink.” Luke grabs two beers for them, while Spencer just stands there, trying hard not to look in the direction of the table where you and James are sitting.

But every time his gaze happens to wander there, he feels his muscles tense. James is still talking to you, and this time he seems to be paying particular attention to you. Spencer can practically feel Jame’s gaze – the gaze of a man who wants more. “Man, you really have to relax. Running around like a caged tiger all the time isn't going to help you,” Luke says.

“The problem is, I don’t want to see him making out with her,” Spencer admits. “I mean, what the hell? We're working on the same case, and he..." He exhales sharply. "That guy is the last person I want to get along with."

Luke shakes his head, but his grin slowly disappears. "Okay, I understand. But if you really want to prevent him from getting involved with her, you have to pull yourself together, otherwise everything will just revolve around him. Just relax. Drink something, talk to the others. And if you really want to change something, you have to do something instead of just staring."

Spencer nods, but the restlessness inside him remains. While Luke puts the beer in front of him, Spencer continues to stare in the direction of the table where you and James are sitting, while an unpleasant feeling does not leave him alone. When Luke goes over to sit down at table next to yours where Rossi, Matt and Tara are sitting, he follows him lost in his thoughts.

-

Your POV

The evening in the bar is slowly dragging on, and you try to relax as much as possible. But despite the conversations and the more relaxed mood, there is this one constant feeling that you can't shake off: Spencer's gaze. You feel it all the time – not directly, but still clearly. Again and again, you notice how his eyes fix on you from a distance, every time you laugh or get into a conversation. And you know it isn’t a coincidence.

The jealousy in him is almost tangible, but you can also see his insecurity. It’s as if he’s losing himself in his own thoughts. He keeps clenching his fists, as if he can’t control the situation. And while you are angry at him – at the way he behaves, at the way he’s closing himself off from his feelings – you also feel some pity for him.

You are both caught in this kind of self-denial. You think that he might feel as much for you as you feel for him, but he just never really dared to admit it. He had always been a little distant at times – almost as if he didn’t want to get too close to you. Perhaps out of fear of admitting to himself that he felt more for you. And you? You aren’t much better. You never address your feelings for him directly, for fear that he wouldn't return them, or worse, would just ignore them.

When James had shown interest in you, it had been a painful but somehow useful moment. The sudden attention he’s giving you seems to be working – at least in theory. Penelope and Emily advised you to use the opportunity to make Spencer jealous. It’s a risky gamble, but you know it might be the only way to get Spencer to come out of his shell. You hesitated at first, but over time you realized that you had to at least try.

James is funny, has a quick quip on his lips, and manages to make you laugh. And while you get along well with him, you feel Spencer’s gaze only getting more intense from one moment to the next. It’s almost like an invisible competition – James is flirting with you, and Spencer is watching from afar without lifting a finger. Why is he doing that? Why can’t he just walk up to you and show you what he really feels?

Every time you notice Jame’s gaze on you, you also feel Spencer withdrawing more and more into himself, his eyes lowering to the table and occasionally playing with his hands. He seems to be struggling to pull himself together, but you know he’s seething inside. And you... you are angry at him, yes. Angry that he never made the first move, angry that he doesn’t dare to show you how he feels about you.

But at the same time, there’s also a little bit of pity, because you know how vulnerable he really is. He doesn’t want to admit that he feels the same way, and it’s easier for him to watch you from afar rather than face the fear that his feelings for you bring with them.

And then... the moment when James turns back to you and puts his hand on your arm as he whispers something in your ear – a joke, a charming compliment that you can barely hear - you see Spencer’s look out of the corner of your eye. He stares at you, his jaw clenched, and you can see the anger and jealousy building up inside him.

For a moment, you feel... powerful. And guilty at the same time. Is that really the right way? Is there really any point in provoking him like that? “You can calm down,” Penelope whispers to you as she sits down next to you. “He’s been looking at you like that all evening, and we all know he’ll have to make the first move at some point. He won’t be able to ignore it forever.”

You take a deep breath and nod, even though you are torn inside. What if it just doesn’t work? What if he never dares? And what if he just wants to keep you in the friend zone without ever crossing the line? You look over to Spencer again – his eyes are still on you, but this time there is something different in his gaze. Doubt? Hurt?

“He just needs to see that you’re no longer available,” Emily says, as she advised you. “And then he’ll react. It’s just a matter of time.” James asks for another drink and turns back to you with a charming smile. Spencer’s gaze continues to burn into your back. But now that you’ve dared to use the situation to your advantage, you know: It’s a risky game, but perhaps the only thing you can do to bring the truth to light. You didn’t even know he would get this jealous.

But you can’t bring yourself to spend the whole evening here and continue to be stuck in this tension. It’s too much. “I’m going to the bathroom for a minute,” you say with a slight smile that is more polite than genuine joy. You turn to James, who is about to lean toward you again. “I’ll be right back.”

He nods and gives you a meaningful smile. “Sure, take your time. I’ll wait for you here.” You stand up, run your fingers through your hair, and walk toward the bathroom, looking over your shoulder once more to scan the room behind you. Your eyes immediately find the one spot that turns your stomach: Spencer.

He is still sitting in his seat, and you feel the atmosphere between you thickening. He has seen you. And you cannot miss his eyes – they are burning in your direction, as if they are blocking out everything else. It’s that look that you’ve felt from him too many times – a look that doesn’t let you go, a look that is full of anger and uncertainty at the same time. And yet, there is something else.

You pause for a moment when you notice that he’s watching you intensely. A brief hesitation, then you give him a look – almost like a small awakening between the two of you. It’s the moment when everything around you seems to go quiet. A moment that only exists between you and him.

Luke, who had been following the whole scene with a watchful eye, turned to Spencer when he noticed you moving away from your seat. “It’s now or never, Spencer,” he says, his tone serious. “If you really want her, now’s your chance. You have to do something. Otherwise, she’ll go back to him.”

Spencer glanced nervously in your direction as he saw you heading to the bathroom. For a moment, he just stared, then he abruptly stood up, dropped his beer back on the table, and walked in the direction you had disappeared.

-

You are washing your hands when the door opens behind you and Spencer appears. He walks towards you, his gaze hard and determined, but also somehow… vulnerable. The determination in his eyes reveals that he hasn’t come here without a conversation.

"Spencer?" you ask, and he takes a deep breath. Then he says in a tone so hard and yet so quiet that you can practically feel the inner conflict within him: "I don't want you to go back to him." You look at him, completely surprised by the sudden turn of events. Your eyes narrow slightly as you consider the words. "What?"

Spencer seems to force himself to repeat it again as he takes a step closer. "I don't want you to go back to him," he repeats, and this time it sounds final.

"Why?" you ask challengingly. Now that he said it like that, he sounds even more jealous than he did this morning in the office.

"Because I want to be the one," he finally says. His words hit you like a bolt of lightning. "I want to be the one who makes you laugh. I want to be the one who touches you, who tells you... things you want to hear. Not him. Me." For a moment, there is silence between the two of you. The words he had just said hang in the air.

You look at him—really, for the first time in a while, you see him clearly. Without the wall of insecurity and reserved distance that he had always built around himself. Without the anger that he had shown you again and again since he came back from prison.

"Why didn't you say that earlier? I could never be sure. I tried to talk to you but most of the time you were so distant," you finally say. “Because I... because I didn't know how," Spencer says. "I didn't know what you really felt. And... I didn't want to lose you. After everything that had happened with Maeve, then my time in prison... I was just afraid that you would be taken away from me too."

You look deep into his eyes. He loves you. For a long time. But he never admitted it to himself. He let himself be too guided by the fear of having lost too much if he had said it. And you? You hesitated just as long. But this moment... this moment is the turning point. Now you know.

"I don't want to lose you either, Spencer," you say quietly. For a moment, he just stands there and looks at you, but then he takes a step closer, and suddenly the distance between you is gone. Without another word, he pulls you towards him. His lips find yours, and in that kiss is everything you've ever wanted.

You run your hands through his hair, something you always wanted to do, and press yourself closer against him. He kisses down your neck, grazing a spot with his teeth before he bits down, leaving a hickey. Then leans closer to your ear and a shiver runs down your spine. In that moment, when the two of you finally give in to your desires, something snaps.

“You were driving me crazy today, angel. I had to hold myself together all day while he was busy flirting with you. But you’re mine.” He goes back to kissing you, exploring your mouth with his tongue and biting down on your lip. You press even closer against him. “Touch me, Spence, please,” you whisper, but he pulls back and chuckles. “Now you want me to touch you? After you spend the whole day hanging out with this idiot?” he says, not giving you what you want right away after what happened today.

“Yes, please. I only want you,” you say, roaming your hands over his body but he turns you around and your back presses against the wall. “Woah, Spence,” you squeak but he shuts you up by pressing another kiss to your lips. His hands begin to slowly trail underneath your top and squeeze your breasts through your bra. “We’re leaving. Now. I waited way too long for this. I’m not going to fuck you in a bathroom, at least not now,” he says with a smirk on his lips and you clench your thighs together in excitement.

He leans down to place one last kiss on your mouth before he takes your hand and pulls you out of the bathroom after him. He doesn’t even bother to tell the others you are leaving now, the only thought in his mind being you. To your advantage, the hotel is almost directly across from the bar. It's only about a 10 minute walk, but this time it feels even shorter as Spencer takes long, quick steps to get there as quickly as possible.

When you stand in front of the door of his room Spencer let’s go of your hand to reach for the keys in his bag. As soon as unlocks the door he pushes you in and closes the door before pressing you against the next wall. You can feel how hard he already is. His mouth is back on your neck in instant, kissing the spot where he left the hickey.

His hands trail back under your top again, but this time he immediately unclasps your bra. He squeezes one of your nipples before tugging at your top to show you that he wants it off. You help him and begin to open the buttons of his shirt too before it joins your top on the floor. While kissing you Spencer guides you to the bed and when your knees hit the bed frame you drop with your back on the bed.

Spencer takes the opportunity to take off your jeans and underwear in one motion, taking a step back to admire you from afar. “You’re so beautiful. And all mine,” he says, his eyes sparkling with lust. He comes closer and leans down, placing kisses all over your body and you keep running your fingers through his hair. It’s even softer than you thought. When he leaves another hickey you tug at his hair, earning a groan from him.

To hear this sound coming from him turns you on more than you could’ve imagined and you can feel yourself getting even wetter. Spencer’s head is now going down, in between your legs, kissing your inner thighs before running a finger through your folds. “You’re so wet. Is this all for me?” he asks, slipping a finger inside you. “Only for you, Spence,” you moan, lifting your hips to show him you want more.

But he stops and pulls away from you. “No, you’re not allowed to move,” he says with a smirk on his face. “Why not?” you ask, eagerly waiting for him to continue his actions. “Because I said so,” he simply says and then you understand. He wants to make you wait and even more desperate for him. It’s some kind of power play, he wants to show you that he’s the one who is in charge.

“Listen to me and I’ll give you what you want,” he says while his finger slowly trails circles on your clit. “Do you understand?” he asks, locking eyes with you. “Yes, I understand,” you say. All you want is for him to keep touching you, it’s addictive. “Good girl,” he says before slipping his fingers back inside you. You shiver and he immediately notices the affect the words have on you.

“Interesting. You like being called a good girl, am I right?” he asks, thrusting his fingers deeper inside you. “Ye - yes,” you whisper. “I can’t hear you,” he says while you try to hold yourself back to not arch into his touch like he told you to. “Yes, I - I like it,” you say. He seems satisfied with your answer and adds another finger. You feel the pleasure shoot right through you and you’re afraid you’re are no longer able to control your body.

“Please, I’m so close,” you whimper but he stops again. He‘s definitely driving you crazy. “No. I want you to come on my tongue,” Spencer says and leans down, immediately licking a stripe up your pussy before sucking on your clit. “Oh…” you exhale at the warm feeling of his tongue. “You taste even better than I imagined,” he says. You feel him moaning against you and a shiver runs down your spine when he swirls his tongue around your clit.

His hands push into your thighs, making sure to keep them apart to keep on eating you out. Then he adds a finger and your entire body is on edge. You start to lose yourself in the pleasure and when you look down and see his head buried between your thighs, diving restlessly into you, you start to lose yourself.

“Spence, I - can I -“ you are no longer able to form a sentence, far too lost in the pleasure already. You’re glad he decides against teasing you for it this time. “Come on my tongue, angel,” he says and sucks on your clit to set you over the edge. Your orgasms crashes over you and you keep moaning his name when you come. Spencer chuckles and comes up to kiss you, giving you a moment to recover. You can taste yourself on his lips and push your tongue in his mouth.

“Need you now, Spence. Please,” you whisper in his ear. “What do you need, angel? You have to tell me,” he says. “You Spence - I need you inside me.” His hands reach for his belt and he unclasps it before unbuttoning his pants and pulling down the zipper. He pulls is pants and boxers down and your gaze wanders down his body and your eyes widen when you see his cock. He is bigger than expected, his tip already glistening with pre-cum.

He begins to stoke his cock lazily, enjoying the look you give him. “I don’t have a condom,” he says when he leans down to you. “I’m on birth control,” you tell him as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in to give him a kiss. You can feel how he lines your cock up your entrance, slowly sliding through your folds and over your clit to tease you.

“Spence, I need you inside me now,” you say and lift your hips again but he gives you a disappointed look. “I thought I told you not to move?” he says, pressing you back down with one of his hands. “I - I forgot. And it’s not fair when you drive me crazy the whole time,” you say and he chuckles. “Look at you, so desperate for my cock. Well, if you don’t want me to drive you crazy then I’m going to fuck you stupid, is that what you want?” he asks. “Yes Spence, please, fuck me,” you breath out and he finally pushes inside you.

“Fuck,” he sighed when he feels you clench around him. “I can get used to this.” You never felt so full before. He starts to thrust in and out of you, hitting your G- spot. You wrap your legs around his waist and feel him even deeper inside of you. “Harder,” you beg him and his thrusts become more intense as he fucks you faster and deeper. “You feel so good wrapped around my cock. So wet and warm, just for me. Tell me, who does this pussy belongs to?” he says and grabs your hips harder, his fingers digging into the skin, leaving bruises there.

Your mind is going blank at the pleasure and you’re not able to answer him. But then one of his hands leaves your hips and grabs your hair, pulling your head back. You moan and open your eyes to see Spencer looking down at you. “I asked you a question. Answer me,” he says, his eyes sparkling with lust. “You - belongs to you, Spence,” you moan and grab his back to hold your shaking body steady. You’re close now, Spencer can feel it too.

“Yes, all mine. I’m the one who gets to fuck you,” he says and he thrusts so deep inside you that you can’t help but arch your back. Spencer can feel that you’re close and he starts to circle your clit with his thumb again. “I want you to come for me, now,” he says and you let go. Your orgasms hits you and you moan his name when you come, feeling his cock twitching inside of you before he finishes too.

He pulls out of you and collapses next to you on the bed. He places a gentle kiss on your head. “Are you okay?” he asks. You nod, still exhausted and not able to form any words. He pulls you into his arms and starts to stroke your hair. “I’m glad you’re all mine now,” he says and you turn your head to look into his eyes. “My heart always belonged to you, Spence. And that will never change,” you say, cuddling closer to him. “I love you so much,” he says and strokes your cheek gently.

You lean forward to kiss him. “I love you too, especially when you get jealous,” you say with a smirk on your lips. He rolls his eyes jokingly and he pokes your ribs, causing you to giggle. “Hey, stop that!” you say, trying to hold down his hands, effortlessly. You’re underneath him in a heartbeat and he starts to kiss down your neck again. “I’m far from done with you tonight, angel.”

[nosyp]

Game of Persistence

Continuation of this

Warning = smut🔞, stalking(?), consistently calling you, obsessive behaviour, posessive behaviour

Pairing = Salesman x reader

Word count = 2.4k words

Summary = He won’t stop calling, showing up at your door, and dragging you deeper into his world. Despite you rejecting him constantly, the tension between you builds, and soon, you can’t resist.

A/N = Idek where the story is going lol

You stir awake, your head heavy, and the world seems unclear… only for a moment. And slowly, your senses start coming back to you, and the realization… that something feels... off. The warm, familiar smell of your room should be comforting, but it isn't. It feels like a completely different room despite nothing different.

You blink against the dim morning light coming from the blinds, your body sluggish as you sit up on the bed. The covers feel too thick and heavy, and for a while you don't recognize the space around you. The soft hum of a nearby appliance fills the silence, but there’s something unnerving… something wrong.

Then you spotted a small black card with the words ‘Call me’ and a phone number behind it written in white ink. You stare at the card for a long moment, the words sinking deeper into your mind. Call me.

The idea of making the call terrifies you, but at the same time, there's an almost magnetic pull to it. What could it mean? Who left it? Why now?

But somehow you worked up the courage to dial the number. Your hands were shaking as you picked up your phone. Your heart raced as you pressed each number, the beeps almost deafening in the otherwise quiet room. The final digit feels like it echoes in your mind, each beep growing a sense of dread in your chest. Once the last number is entered, your thumb hovers over the call button for a second, and for a brief moment, you question if you should do it or not.

But the pull is too strong. You can’t stop yourself now.

You tap the button.

The phone rings, each tone stretching out longer than the last. Your anxiety spikes as you wait for someone to pick up, but the line is eerily silent. The seconds drag on like hours, and you find yourself holding your breath, wondering if this was a mistake.

Then, just as you start to convince yourself you should hang up, the call connects.

A deep, calm voice answers on the other end. “You called. Good.”

Your throat tightens. There’s something unsettlingly calm in the voice, as if they expected you to call all along.

“Who is this?” you manage to croak, your voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s me, the salesman you were with last night,” the voice says, smooth and unbothered, as though you should’ve known exactly who they were. "I trust you remember our little chat."

Your mind races, struggling to recall any conversation from the previous night. Salesman? What did they mean? The last thing you remember was... nothing. Blank spaces where details should’ve been.

“I’m the ddakji guy,” he adds, almost like it should be obvious.

Goodness, how could you forget about him? The pieces click together in your mind, and the memories return with sharp clarity: a strange man, a paper game, and a promise of something... more. Why is he calling?

You try to shake off the rising panic inside you, but it’s quite hard to ignore. “What do you want?” you ask with a shaky voice.

“I’ll explain everything to you, just wait for me,” he says. 

—

You stayed in your apartment, anxiously waiting for the man’s arrival. Hours seemed to go by as the weight of the situation slowly got heavier, each passing minute making you question if you had made the right choice.

And then, just like that, there was a knock at your door.

Knock, knock, knock.

It was the same consecutive three knocks like last night, the one you’d heard in your memory that you now couldn’t shake. Your pulse quickened as you stood frozen for a moment, hand hovering near the door.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. There was no turning back now.

You opened the door, and there he was. The salesman. His calm demeanor was exactly as you remembered, almost like he had been expecting this, expecting you to open the door.

"Good," he said with a smile, his voice calm and confident. "I was wondering when you'd open the door."

You stepped back, not sure how to respond, and he walked in without waiting for permission, as if he had already been invited.

His eyes scanned the room briefly before returning to you. "Let’s get to it," he said, his voice low and steady. He seemed to have all the time in the world, despite the growing tension between you.

Over the next few hours, he spent his time explaining the whole operation to you. He explained how it worked, the roles, and how you were needed to help with what he called ‘Squid Game.’ It wasn’t anything like you’d imagined. No deadly challenges, no players, just a whole system that needed people behind the scenes. Workers like you.

"...are you drunk?" you ask him, your confusion growing with every word.

He looks up at you, disbelief slowly appearing on his face, before letting out a sigh. "No, I'm not," he replies calmly, his eyes staying focused. He continues explaining. 

"I don’t even know what you’re talking about," you say, still processing what he’s saying. "You want me to... work for you? In this weird game thing?"

“Yes, exactly,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “But not as a player. You’ll be like me, recruiting players.”

You stare at him, trying to piece it all together. "I don’t get it. Why me?"

He leans back slightly, eyeing you carefully. "Because you’re perfect for the job. You have the skills we need. This isn’t a game you can just walk away from once you’re involved. It’s bigger than that."

You look at him, speechless for a moment. You hadn’t signed up for any of this, yet somehow it felt like the decision was being taken out of your hands. Despite yourself, the thought of turning it down feels... impossible.

“I don’t know...” you trail off, feeling the weight of the situation settle around you.

He doesn’t push. He simply nods, signalling that he understands you need time to think. "You don’t have to decide right now. But when you’re ready, I’ll be waiting."

As he turns to leave, the silence in the room feels heavier as ever. His words linger in your mind, leaving you to wonder if saying no was really an option anymore.

—

The days following the encounter with the salesman feel like they drag on endlessly. You spend your time replaying everything he told you in your mind, and try to make sense of it but you never quite got it. Every time your phone rings, your heart skips a beat, a small part of you hoping it's him, yet dreading it at the same time.

And then, it happens.

The first call comes the next morning.

Your phone lights up, and before you can even check the phone number, you already know who it is. You hesitate before answering, your thumb hovering over the green button. It's him again.

You take a deep breath and pick up the phone.

"Hello?" you say, your voice tight with tension.

"You ready yet?" His voice comes through, calm as ever, but there's something unsettling in the way he asks. It's almost like he knew you’d pick up.

You feel a wave of frustration bubble up inside you. "You can’t be serious," you mutter under your breath.

But he doesn’t miss a beat. "I’m serious. You’re perfect for the job, and you know it. You beat me all those times. All you need to do is just step up. I’ll be back tomorrow. We need to move forward."

Before you can respond, he hangs up.

The call leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth, a knot in your stomach. You didn’t ask for this, yet it feels like you’re being dragged deeper into something you can’t escape.

—

The next day, the phone rings again. It's him. Same number and the same calm voice.

"Did you think about it?" he asks, his tone light, almost too casual. "Have you made up your mind?"

You press your palm to your forehead, the frustration building. "You’ve got to be kidding me. I told you I wasn’t interested."

"You can keep saying that," he responds, "but deep down, you know you’re in this whether you want to be or not. I’ll be back tomorrow, and we’ll talk again. You’ll see."

And just like that, the call ends.

—

Day after day, the calls keep coming. Every time you think you’ve had enough, the phone rings, and he’s there, as persistent as ever. His voice is calm, almost soothing in its insistence. Sometimes he asks if you’ve thought it over, other times he just reminds you that you can’t get out.

It feels like an unrelenting pressure, each call more invasive than the last. His confidence doesn’t waver, and you begin to wonder if you ever had a choice at all.

One day, you finally snap.

"Why won’t you leave me alone?" you ask, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear. "I’ve told you no every single time and you just keep calling. What the hell is wrong with you?"

There’s a pause on the other end. Then, he answers, his voice almost too calm.

"Because I know you’re not done yet. And I don’t give up. Not on people like you."

“All I did was beat you in ddakji!!” you screamed at the top of your lungs. 

“But… we need you to help us,” he responds, still calm as ever.

“No you don’t. Leave me alone.” you angrily say before hanging up. 

—

The knock comes again.

Knock, knock, knock.

It’s always the same, as though he knows exactly when you’re expecting him and when you’re not. You don't even flinch this time. The uncertainty from the first visit is long gone. Now it’s a horrible feeling and you have no idea why. You’ve made your mind up. He’s coming, and this time, you won’t shy away from it.

You walk to the door, your pulse quickening. The room feels smaller now, the air thicker. You open it without hesitation.

There he stands, still wearing the same smooth, calm demeanor as before, but there’s something different this time. His intense eyes… they don’t just survey the space. They’re on you. The air between you both feels charged.

“Hello,” he says, the words almost too casual, too smooth. He steps inside, and without invitation like he usually does. He walks past you, invading the space of your room. You’re not really sure if you want him here in your room, but there’s an undeniable attraction in your chest for him. It’s like you’re being tugged toward him despite your better judgment.

"I didn’t think you’d let me in today," he says, voice dripping with a quiet, smug satisfaction.

You can feel your heart pounding as he steps closer, his eyes locking onto yours with that same unnerving confidence. The tension in the air is almost palpable.

“Why are you here?” you ask, your voice low but trembling with a mixture of frustration and something else you refuse to acknowledge. You feel like you’ve been backed into a corner, but this time... you don’t mind it.

“I told you,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “You can’t escape it. We both know it’s been leading to this.”

His hands brush against yours as he walks past you again, casually reaching up to close the door behind him. The click of the lock sounds louder than it should.

"You don’t know how badly I wanted to hear you say that," he says, his voice low and controlled, the same calmness that’s always unnerved you. "Say it. Say you want this."

Your breath catches in your throat, the words sticking, but something inside you makes the decision for you. "I want this," you whisper, almost against your will, the admission slipping out before you can stop it.

His smile widens, and that’s when you see it. The stupid satisfaction in his eyes, the knowing, predatory glint. He’s been waiting for this. And now, so are you.

Without another word, his hand finds your wrist, pulling you toward him with an undeniable force. You stumble but don’t resist. You never do.

His lips meet yours. The kiss was slow, deliberate, almost too gentle for a man who’s spent days pushing you into a dark corner. You hesitate for only a second before your body starts to react, betraying your mind.

You can feel him smile against your lips as you kiss back, your pulse racing. His hand slides up your spine, pulling you flush against him. His other hand snakes around your waist, pressing you harder against him, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

“You’ve been waiting for this,” he whispers between kisses, his voice darker now. His hands roam—never rushing, but never giving you a chance to catch your breath. “Admit it.”

You shake your head, but the words come out anyway. “I didn’t want this. I–” You cut yourself off with a moan as he presses his hips against you, his body heat radiating through his clothes.

“Don’t lie,” he murmurs against your skin, trailing kisses along your neck, his lips brushing so delicately that it sends a shiver down your spine. “You wanted it the moment you picked up that phone.”

Your hands move on their own, reaching for him, for more of the feeling. Or whatever it is that’s coursing through your veins. The lines of what’s right and wrong blur, and all you know is that you can’t stop now.

He pulls back, looking into your eyes as he unbuttons your shirt, each move deliberate. He watches your expression carefully, gauging your reactions like a predator. “Say it again,” he demands, his voice sharp. “Tell me you want this.”

Your body betrays you as you breathe, “I want this.”

A soft laugh escapes him, dark and pleased. “Good.”

His hands move quickly, and in the next breath, your clothes are discarded, the cold air hitting your bare skin. But the sensation of his hands on you, the heat of his touch… it’s enough to set your whole body on fire.

He leans in, his lips brushing your ear, his voice barely a whisper. “I told you that you’d never be able to walk away from this. I’ll make sure you never want to.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

How’d they react to finding you sleeping anywhere but the bed…

Dick: sharing the dog bed with Hayley (fail):

At first he thought something was wrong when he didn’t hear you or Hayley greet him home and soon began to search the spy for you both.

So the moment he finds you fast asleep on Hayley’s dog bed with Hayley tucked closely into your chest, head resting underneath your chin. His heart immeditly melted and his phone was out and taking photos nearly every 0.5 seconds, only until he was forced to stop due to how much storage they took up but he didn’t regret it.

Not one bit. He even has one printed out that he kept on him to look at whenever he felt as though he needed to be reminded of how he had waiting back home for him.

You both were effortlessly cute to Dick, he couldn’t help it but feel a little left out as he then tries to join you in the dog bed, only to almost ends up capsizing the three of you and waking both you and Hayley, who began licking his face as her tail smacks you in the arm repeatedly.

‘What were you trying to do?’ You asked Dick, sitting up.

Dick pouted. ‘Join in the fun.’

‘We were sleeping in a dog bed, how’s that fun.’ You said, not bothering to add the fact that you had accidentally fell asleep on Hayley’s dog bed because you were waiting up for him but failed.

‘Fun to me is wherever you and Hayley are.’ Dick answered truthfully.

You smiled as you kissed his cheek. ‘You’re such a dork, you know that right.’ You told him.

‘Yes. And?’ He says cheekily, more than happy to be home with his little family.

Bruce: in the Batmobile:

Alfred told him where you were and that you best be moved to a more comfortable place then the passenger seat of the Batmobile.

How you got in there was a mystery to both men but what was more impressive was how you could possibly sleep against those hard rich leather seats in the first place.

Bruce couldn’t blow but let out a little chuckle when he opened the side door, just to see you with your face half pressed against the seats before jolting yourself awake.

‘Wha- I didn’t do nothing officer it was the dog.’ You said groggily as you tried to blink the sleep from your eyes as they tried to bring reality into focus.

‘Have a good nap did we?’ Bruce asks, finding some amusement in your half asleep nonsense.

‘Why, who’s asking?’ You replied.

‘Your consciousness.’ Bruce joked sarcastically. ‘Come on let’s get you to bed before you develop a-‘

‘Ow my neck.’ You groaned as you held a hand to your neck the moment you tried to move it.

‘-Crooked neck.’ Bruce sighs as he offers you a hand. ‘Come on, let’s go find Alfred so that we can alleviate you of this pain.’ You pouted as you grabbed onto his hand and letting him pull you out of the Batmobile. ‘Alfred is going to scold me isn’t he?’ You asked. ‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’ Bruce answered as he helps guide you out of the Batcave.

Alfred’s scoldings were nothing to scoff at, and Bruce would know as he’s been on the receiving end of a few before in the past. After all getting scolded by Alfred was enough to set a stubborn man straight.

‘Damn.’ You muttered.

Damian: in the barn, on top of Goliath:

He didn’t have to look far, he knew you’d be in the barn but what he wasn’t expecting was for you to be fast asleep on top of his demonic dragon bat, whom had draped a protective wing over you as though it were swaddling you in an extremely warm blanket.

He had told you about the story of how he met Goliath and took him home on more then one occasion, as it was secretly his favourite story because it helped him with his own internal struggles on who he should be, and also how his past doesn’t define him, but what he chooses to do in the future does.

So seeing you cuddled up to Goliath without an ounce of care made him smile a little to himself at the prospect of you accepting him for who he was truly, rather than believe what other people viewed him as. You stood out of the crowd rather than follow it and Damian couldn’t be more grateful for you sticking by him, even through the extremely tough times where even he thought he went too far with his outbursts towards you.

‘Tt. Idiot.’ He says affectionately as he walks further into the barn, stopping along the way to pet BatCow and Jerry the Turkey. ‘Aren’t they?’ He asks both animals who only blinked at him as they mindlessly chewed on their food. Damian hums. ‘You’re right, they may be an idiot but they’re still my idiot at the end of the day.’

Damian ends up falling asleep against BatCow’s side as Jerry the Turkey made himself comfortable on his lap.

Jason: kitchen counter:

Him and Roy have a bet on where Jason would find you asleep next.

It had happened way too often for them that they’d hates themselves forever for not making a game out of it at any point in their lives.

This time Roy betted that you’d fall asleep on the kitchen counter, whereas Jason believes you’ll fall asleep against the window sill.

So when Jason got back home late one night after patrol, he immeditly went to look for you at the window sill. Nothing. ‘Damn it Roy.’ He cursed under his breath as he then walked into the kitchen, praying that he wouldn’t have to tell his friend that he won the bet for the eighth consecutive time.

Only for you to be fast asleep on the fucking kitchen counter, just as Roy predicted you would. Jason felt as though his friend was cheating somehow because it didn’t make sense for him to have correctly predicted where you’d be found sleeping as often as he did. Unfortunately for Jason, he couldn’t back up his claim as to why he thought Roy cheated, for there wasn’t any substantial evidence to prove that Roy was cheating.

And so with a heavy heart, Jason walked over and pressed a kiss to your forehead before pulling out his phone to text Roy that he has won…again, and pocketing his phone as he carried you off to your shared room. ‘I love you chipmunk but you’ve got to start sleeping in places where I’ll surefire win the bet against Roy next time okay?’ He says against your head, kissing it.

‘Okay. I’ll try.’ You murmured.

‘That’s my baby.’ Jason said as he tucked you into bed before following suit.

The next day, Roy was smirking like a Cheshire Cat as he talked about his eighth consecutive victory, whereas Jason looked about ready to strangle the next person who looked at him funny.

[foxy-eva]

Warm Embrace

Summary: Spencer and his wife explore ways to be intimate with each other after a traumatic event

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Smut

Please read the CW, this story contains potentially triggering topics! 

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) referenced past SA of Reader (non-graphic), implied flashbacks, trauma related sexual problems, conversations about sex and intimacy, nudity, kissing, mutual masturbation, handjob, thigh riding

Word count: 5.4k

Masterlist

“Spencer?” Your voice echoed through the apartment when you stepped through the door and found no sign of your husband.��

A distant sound came from the bathroom. “In here!” 

After a quiet knock on the door and his confirmation that you could step in, you found Spencer sitting in the bathtub. The room was filled with the lavender scent of the bath soap and what you could see of his body was covered in bubbles. It almost looked comical how his knees stuck out of the water, making it obvious that the tub was not big enough to accommodate his long limbs. 

“I was too tired to take a shower,” he explained after discovering your curious expression. 

“I can see that,” you laughed. “I thought you hated taking baths.”

“Honestly, I think I’m starting to understand why you like them so much. This isn't too bad.”

You stood there for a few moments, smiling at the sight in front of you. Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, you slowly began shedding your clothes. 

“Mind if I join you?” you wondered. 

Nothing about this situation would be unusual for any other married couple. Just a few months ago neither of you would have questioned your actions. Back then initiating any form of intimacy with each other felt natural and familiar. 

Things were different now, though. 

Spencer cleared his throat and shifted his position. “Are you sure about this?”

There was a reason to ask. For the past months any attempt to get close to each other resulted in you crying for the rest of the night. Something as simple as him placing his hand on your thigh was enough to startle you. 

A sigh rolled over your lips as you dropped your shirt to the floor. “No,” you confessed. “But I miss you.”

“I’m right here,” he reminded you.

That was not what you meant and he knew that. Of course he understood the meaning of your words. Spencer was well aware of the fact that ever since that son of a bitch hurt you, you fought a constant battle between wanting his nearness and pushing him away. 

Your husband gave you the space you needed and was there to hold you whenever you’d let him. It couldn't have been easy for him either but he never once complained about this new reality you had a live. 

A reality where that person took something from you that you’d never get back. It was hard to shake this feeling of being tainted after having your physical integrity stripped away like that. You were distant and closed off when it came to intimacy, despite your best efforts to get back to what once was normal. It had been months since Spencer even saw you unclothed.

That was about to change. 

Slowly, you pulled down your pants before reaching back to undo your bra. Spencer's sight followed the piece of clothing as it dropped to the floor before settling on your face again. 

“Stop profiling me,” you warned him with a playful undertone in your voice. 

“Sorry, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

By pulling down your panties, you shed your last piece of clothing, leaving you completely bare in front of your husband. It was a strange feeling to reveal yourself to him. It felt new yet familiar to allow him to see you. 

However, he didn't dare to look, even when you approached the tub. It wasn't clear whether he just tried to be respectful or if seeing you like this for the first time after months was too much for him to bear. His reaction reminded you that he never answered your question about you joining him. Maybe he was the one who wasn’t okay with this. 

Spencer’s eyes widened as he noticed the change of your mood before you did. Within a split second your heart started pounding and you stepped back to reach for your bathrobe. 

“Sorry, this was a stupid idea,” you muttered as you turned around to shield your body from his sight and your heart from the rejection. 

“My love,” he cooed from behind you.

The sound of splashing water gave away that he was exiting the tub. From the corner of your eyes you saw how he reached for his own robe. 

You felt his presence behind you. “Can I touch you?”

You nodded as you turned around, finding him wrapped in his robe with water still dripping from his jawline. Spencer reached out his hands to pull you into his arms. 

“What just happened?” He wondered, his voice laced with concern. 

Before you could think about it, you mumbled, “You didn't want to look at me.”

Your husband thought about your words for a moment, replaying the scene that had just unfolded in his mind. What you said wasn’t true. He wanted to look at you, to admire you fully like he had done countless times before. 

“I was afraid it would make you uncomfortable,” he confessed as he pulled back to be able to find your eyes. 

It was hard to read your expression which was not surprising considering you were mostly confused about your current state yourself.

“I miss the way you used to look at my body. I miss being close to you,” you whispered and paused for a moment. “I miss… sex.”

He closed his eyes before placing an innocent kiss on your forehead. “I know,” he breathed. Me too, he thought.

“Do you still think about it?” You wanted to know. 

“Sex?” 

Nodding, you watched his facial features intently. Ever since your attack, there were many occasions when the two of you had tiptoed around this subject. But never before had you been so blunt about it. 

It seemed like he was looking for the right words. “Yes, I do,” was what he settled on.

Raising your eyebrows, you asked, “With me?” 

The insecurity in your question wasn’t lost on Spencer but he still couldn't hold back a breathy laugh. “Of course, silly girl. You're my wife.”

“It’s just been so long that I would understand if you ever thought about doing it with someone else.”

“Stop that right now,” he said with a firm yet loving tone. “I would never cheat on you.” 

A shaky breath escaped your throat before you dared to say what had been bugging you for weeks now. “What if I’ll never be ready? What if things won’t ever be like before?” 

“That would be okay, too,” he reassured you. “There are many ways to create nearness and intimacy. Sex is just one way but it’s not necessary. At least for me it’s not.” 

“So you’d be okay to live without sex?” 

“Before I met you I thought that was my only option,” he quipped. 

You knew there had been a handful of women before you but you appreciated his joke nonetheless. It made you smile. 

Spencer let his fingertips brush over your cheeks. “But to answer your question, yes, I would be okay with that.”

His words were genuine. The way he looked at you with the most loving expression made your heart jump. The amber of his irises radiated a warmth you could get drunk on. You nestled your head against his chest and he held you even closer against his body. He was right. Sex wasn’t necessary to create nearness. However, you were still curious about what else you felt safe enough to try. 

“I want to get into the bathtub with you,” you whispered. “And I want you to look at me.” 

Loosening the embrace, you looked at your husband. With a nod he confirmed that he wanted that, too. 

With shaking fingers you brushed over his robe before gripping the material. “And I want to see you, too.”

Together you helped each other out of your robes until you stood bare in front of each other. You took a moment to admire the man in front of you. It had been a while since you had seen him like that. Unlike you he didn't deliberately hide his body from your sight but there hadn’t been many occasions in the past few months that allowed you to see him unclothed. 

His body looked familiar yet different at the same time. His tummy was a little bit softer than you remembered and you imagined what it would feel like underneath your palm. 

Spencer dared to let his eyes drop down to take in every inch of skin within sight. The way he looked at you made your skin tingle and you noticed how it broke out in goosebumps. 

“You're so beautiful,” he purred as he tentatively brushed over your arms. 

Tilting your head, you placed a soft kiss on his lips before breathing against them, “So are you.”

He took your hand in his to walk you over to the bathtub. Your husband got in first, bending his knees in an attempt to make himself smaller than he was. There was enough space to join him, a relieved sigh falling from your lips when you felt the warm water enveloping your body. 

First you sat a little awkwardly opposite one another for a few moments before you felt confident enough to get closer. Gently, you placed your hands on his knees to part them before moving closer to lean against his body sitting between his legs. Spencer’s heart pounded rapidly against his ribcage as you nestled against his chest. 

“Is that okay?” You wanted to make sure. 

“Yeah, I uh… I’m not sure where to put my hands,” he chuckled and you noticed how they hovered above the edge of the bathtub. 

Taking his hands in yours, you guided them towards the water, placing them underneath your chest. Even though you expected his touch, you still jerked when you felt his palms make contact with your body. 

Instinctively, your husband wanted to retract his hands again but you held them still with your own palms pressed against them. Once the initial shock faded, you were certain that you wanted to be held exactly like that. 

A part of you still wanted to fight this vulnerable situation but a much bigger, much more confident part longed to be close to the love of your life. 

It was as if Spencer sensed your ambiguity. “You okay?” 

“Yes,” you confirmed. Then you thought about the way your body flinched when he touched you. It had happened before each time Spencer had touched you in places that he had touched, too. “I just feel like my body has to relearn a couple of things.”

Spencer nodded before finally being able to relax a bit. He leaned back while holding you against him, relishing the sensation of having you close without any barriers between you. Just for a moment he forgot about what had happened to you and to your own surprise, so did you. 

For the following weeks you made it a new habit to take baths with each other. There was something so sweet about getting clean together, it became a sacred ritual you wanted to repeat over and over. 

Slowly but surely you got more comfortable around Spencer. There was a time when you didn't think it was possible that the two of you would cuddle every night and every morning without constantly having to fear that you’d freak out at any given moment. 

But just like that it happened. Spencer didn't have to think twice about hugging you from behind and leaving a feather-light kiss on your neck. He didn't hesitate to pull you into his arms when he woke up before you. 

He did however wake up in shock and almost jumped out of bed when one morning he realized he had sleepily pressed his erection against your thigh. Having woken up before him, you had noticed it, too. You could have easily moved away but found no reason to do so.

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer murmured as he moved away from you, his voice still sounding raspy from his slumber.

“You don’t have to apologize for that, Spencer. I know basic biology,” you snickered. “Now come back here.”

Hesitantly, he moved back towards your open arms. The warmth you radiated was too hard to resist so it took very little convincing for him to find his place inside your embrace again. 

Gentle fingertips danced along his arms, making him hum in contentment. It had always amazed you how his skin felt so particularly soft and tender in the morning. His curls hung unruly from his head and you couldn't resist intertwining your fingers with them. 

You thought back to the many times you had woken up like this. Back then when it still was normal for your hands to become curious enough to explore every curve and dip of each other’s bodies. 

It was odd to think about before. Sometimes it felt like a lifetime away, other times it felt like nothing had ever changed. It made you feel like the man who hurt you had the power to bring a new time reckoning upon you. You didn't want him to. 

It only spurred you further on to fully reclaim your body again. 

Your fingers found Spencer’s jaw to tilt his head just enough for you to be able to kiss him. His lips felt so soft as he slowly reciprocated your actions. It was sweet and innocent at first but your desire to feel more of him only grew the longer you kissed. Slightly shifting your leg you could feel his hardness again, making him whimper at the sudden pressure against it. 

As your hand found its way under his shirt, you brushed over the softness of his tummy. Shaking fingertips followed the trail of hair leading further down before changing their direction and moving upwards to feel his chest. The beating of his heart was faster than usual, almost erratic. 

With cautious motions he mirrored your eagerness and let his palm wander beneath your shirt as well. You deepened the kiss when you felt his fingers wander over your waist, leaving goosebumps on their path. Spencer became hungry, almost desperate as his tongue brushed over yours, melting into you in a way he hadn’t for too long. 

It was what you longed for too, what you had been hoping to finally be ready for. 

Then he touched your breast and it all came crashing down again. 

“Stop!” 

Healing really wasn’t linear. 

In an instant Spencer retracted his hand and leaned back to give you some space. Widened eyes looked back at him and it took both of you a second to realize what had just happened. Before he could apologize, you did. 

“I’m sorry… I really thought I was okay with that.”

For a moment Spencer closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. Then he looked at you again, a soft expression on his face. “Please don’t ever feel the need to apologize for that,” he cooed. 

Unlike other times, you were able to calm down quickly. Instead of pushing your husband further away, you still yearned for his proximity. He seemed surprised when you moved closer to him again to lay your head down on his chest. Content to still have the privilege to hold you close, he wrapped his arms around you before a relieved sigh fell from his lips. 

There was no need to leave the comfort of your shared bed just yet, so you just lay there together, basking in each other’s warmth. 

Spencer placed a gentle kiss into your hair before breathing, “I love you.” 

“I love you more.”

You tried your best to be kind to yourself in that moment. It was a learning opportunity for you. Just a few weeks ago lying close to your husband like that was unthinkable. Even if they felt like baby steps at the time, it was still progress. 

The images of recent intimate encounters flooded your mind and let a pleasant calmness spread through your body. Spencer’s kisses tasted sweet and made you feel insatiable, always longing for more. Feeling his skin pressed against yours as he held you close in the bathtub enveloped you in a safe feeling unlike anything else. 

You thought back to those rare moments when you considered taking things further lately, just like you had tried just now. There was something you had wondered about. 

“I have noticed that when we cuddle…,” you began your sentence, unsure of how to continue. “Even when we’re naked in the bathtub together, you uhm… never get aroused? That was very different before.” 

Spencer cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he let out an awkward laugh. “I try really hard not to. I think about baseball a lot.” 

His response confused you. Propping yourself up on one elbow, you raised your eyebrows at him. “You think about baseball when we’re taking baths together? You don’t even like sports.” 

Spencer just shrugged and added, “Sometimes I try to solve equations, too.”

“Please don’t do that anymore,” you pleaded as you laid back down beside him. “It makes me feel good to see you’re still interested in me.” 

“Of course I am still interested. I just really do not want to make you uncomfortable or feel pressured in any way.”

Your words were genuine when you said, “I don’t think that will happen. I actually really liked seeing you in all of your morning glory earlier.”

Your husband smiled at you. “Yeah?”

A smirk formed on your face. “It reminded me of the countless times we were both late for work because we couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves after waking up.” 

“That was fun,” Spencer chuckled. “What wasn’t fun though was the conversation I had to have with Hotch after being late four days in a row.” 

His words made you laugh, too. Then, after a few moments of comfortable silence, your husband hesitantly asked, “Can I ask you something?” 

Tilting your head to find his eyes, you responded, “Of course.”

“You don’t have to answer this but I’m wondering… Do you ever get aroused in those moments, too?” 

You were used to talking openly about intimacy with your husband, that had always been a normal part of your relationship. His question didn't feel odd and you wanted to respond to it. 

For a long time after what happened, your longing to feel his nearness wasn’t connected to any sexual desires. At times you even felt like your libido had gotten lost entirely. Recently that had changed. 

More and more you had become aware of the little spark inside you that was ignited when you were with him. It was very different from the burning flame that was there before but your desire grew each time you were together. 

“Lately, yes,” you sincerely answered. Thinking about it some more, you decided to share another detail with him. “I even started uhm… touching myself again.”

Spencer seemed a little surprised by your response. “You did? That's good to hear.” His palm brushed gently over your arm when he added, “I can imagine that's a good way to feel a connection to your body and your needs.” 

For a second you thought he might start one of his ramblings to share all his knowledge about the health benefits of masturbating. He didn't, though. 

“Yeah, it feels nice. Almost normal,” you said instead. “I obviously still have a long way to go when it comes to sex but… I finally feel like I’ll actually get there, eventually.”

“There's no rush,” he reminded you. “We have all the time in the world.” 

Your lips met his in a tender kiss. “Thank you for being so patient with me.” 

After a few more moments of enjoying each other's company, it was time to get up and get ready for the workday. That night you found yourself tangled up in bed with your husband again. 

As you breathed in his scent and felt the heat radiating off his skin, you noticed it again – the little spark inside your chest flared up and spread a tingling sensation through your body. 

Your mouth found Spencer's neck to leave a trail of kisses along it, before it moved over his jawline and found his lips at last. He hummed when you kissed him and you could feel his fingertips twitching against your waist. 

It didn't take long until you deepened the kiss, a quiet moan slipping through your lips when Spencer’s tongue found yours. 

With your body pressed against his you didn't allow any distance between the two of you. It still wasn’t enough for you, though. There was too much fabric in the way of really feeling close to him. 

Your hand moved to the hem of his shirt to grip it and impatiently push it upwards. Spencer moved with you as you pulled it over his head. When your fingers moved to the waistband of his pajama pants next, he interrupted the kiss to find your eyes. 

A smile was painted over your face when you nodded, reassuring him that you were okay. You weren’t sure yet where exactly this was going but you felt safe enough to explore your options.

“We can stop or slow down at any point,” he reminded you.

“I know.”

After kissing him again, you sat up so you could continue undressing him. Slowly you pulled down his pants, an audible breath falling from your lips when you saw he was already half-hard. 

Spencer scanned your face for any sign of discomfort but found none. What he saw instead was excitement and curiosity. It made him smile. 

He sat up and brushed his hands over the fabric of your shirt. By lifting your arms over your head you gave him the sign he needed to remove the piece of fabric. He gently motioned for you to lay back down before he made contact with your hips, carefully brushing over your pajama shorts. 

There was no hesitation to be found when you lifted your hips for him to pull them down, without ever breaking eye contact. You thought about how different this situation was from being naked with him in the bathtub. Some parts of you remained hidden from him even then. 

You wanted him to see you, even when being exposed to him like that still felt a little scary.

After he had dropped the last piece of clothing on the floor, you dared to open your thighs for him to see every part of you. A rosy shade spread over his cheeks as he dared to look at you. It reminded you of when you were with him for the very first time many years ago. 

Just like then, he breathed, “You're so beautiful.” 

You could feel how some arousal had already gathered at your center and wondered if Spencer could see the glistening. By the way his pupils dilated you had a hunch that he did. 

Then, after he had fully taken in your beauty, it was as if he was frozen in place. He used to be so confident in situations like that, knowing your body better than his own and never questioning his next move. Things were very different now and you both sensed it. 

His eyes met yours and it became obvious how unsure he was of how to proceed. 

Opening your arms, you cooed, “Come here, love.” 

He seemed relieved when he lay back down beside you again. You wanted to kiss him but he hesitated. 

After a moment, he suggested, “I think it would be helpful if you talked to me more. I need you to tell me exactly what you want to do.”

“I’m figuring this out as we go, too,” you explained. “Right now I don't know where this is going. I only know that I really want to kiss you.”

His nose brushed against yours. “I would really like that, too.”

Just a split second later you got lost in another kiss. The way your bodies were pressed against one another while your lips were connected let you briefly forget where your body ended and his began. After shifting your position, you became well aware of that again. 

Spencer was fully hard now and his erection was firmly pressed against your thigh. You moved your leg slightly, prompting him to whimper into your mouth. The hand on your waist moved down to your hip and his fingertips pressed into your skin. 

“Hey,” you mumbled against his lips. “Can we slow down for a moment?” 

His grip on your hip lightened immediately before he moved his hand back up to your waist. Spencer placed one last peck on your mouth and pulled back. “Do you want to stop?” 

You shook your head. “No, I just need a little break. To make sure it doesn't get too much.” 

The truth was that you felt really good in that moment. Excited, loved and so, so turned on. It just felt safer to take things slowly. Gently you pushed against his shoulder until he was lying on his back. You found your home inside his arms. 

Your lips grazed over his cheek as you breathed, “How are you feeling, Spencer?” 

He chuckled at your question. “You have no idea how good I’m feeling right now.” 

As you let your head rest on his shoulder, you dared to look down at his body. The extent of his desire laid on his stomach and you noticed how a bead of precum had formed at his tip. Your fingers itched to touch him, to remember how hot and heavy his cock always felt inside your palm. 

A curious hand made its way down his chest, over the side of his stomach, brushing along his thigh. For a second you hesitated but then you let your palm hover over his hardness. 

Then you felt a pit form in your stomach and decided to retract your hand again. It might have just been your nervousness but that didn't change the fact that you couldn't continue in this moment. 

Your husband had watched each of your motions intently. It was obvious that he was burning to find relief. 

Tilting your head to find his eyes, you purred, “I want you to feel good.”

“It’s okay, my love. You don’t have to,” he reminded you.

You knew that, of course. There was still something else you could do together. 

As you began kissing his neck, his throat vibrated under your lips and a moan escaped his mouth. Then, you whispered into his ear, “I want you to touch yourself.”

Spencer’s eyes widened at your request and the rosy color on his cheeks turned a shade darker. It seemed like he needed a little more encouragement, so you lay back down inside his arm and opened your legs to give yourself access. 

“Okay, I’ll start,” you teased as you let your hand wander down your own body. 

Mesmerized by the sight, his eyes followed the path of your fingers. When you parted your folds to access your most sensitive spot, Spencer hissed a curse. 

The honeyed wetness between your legs made it easy for your fingertips to move through your folds. It felt relieving to touch yourself like that. Just like Spencer you were yearning for release. 

When your husband heard your heavy sighs as you pleasured yourself, he couldn't hold back anymore. You watched as his hand found his cock, a view that let your heart pound inside your chest. 

First, he wrapped his fingers around his shaft and squeezed, prompting droplets of his arousal to run down his tip. Then, he swiped his thumb over the leaking head before he slowly began moving up and down. Your mouth hung open as you watched that sinful scene unfold in front of you. 

As Spencer accelerated the pace of his fist, sounds of pleasure filled the room. His eyebrows were scrunched up and desperation was written all over his face. 

He had never looked more beautiful.

Distracted by the mesmerizing view, the hand at your core stopped moving. Instead of continuing, you let it wander away from your body to touch Spencer’s thigh. Before you could overthink it, your hand kept moving to his center. 

A heavy breath fell from his lips as your fingertips cautiously brushed over the velvety skin of his balls, making his body jerk underneath you. Smiling to yourself, you remembered how sensitive he was. 

Spencer stopped moving his hand, waiting to see how you’d proceed. When you touched the soft curls at his base, he whimpered. It was then that you realized that you were not scared anymore and that your nervousness had turned into excitement. 

“Can I continue?”

Spencer audibly gulped before removing his hand. “Yes… please.” 

When you wrapped your fingers around his length, both of you moaned in unison. Holding him in your hand like that felt both familiar and novel at the same time. You started moving your palm and quickly remembered how exactly he liked to be touched. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Feels good!” 

With all the built-up tension and those months of abstinence, it only took a few moments until Spencer was getting close to reaching his point of no return. Familiar with all the telltale signs of his impending climax, you continued caressing him. Coming closer to his undoing, his cock twitched inside your palm and his entire body started quivering. 

His release began spilling over your hand and onto his stomach while he kept pulsing against your fingers. You kissed his jaw and his neck before you reached for the tissues on your nightstand to do some damage control of the mess you had created. 

Your husband’s chest was still heaving when you finished cleaning him up. Concern was written all over his face when he found your eyes.

He pulled you back into his embrace as he asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I am. That was really fun,” you snickered. 

Spencer's hand brushed over your back as he placed a soft kiss on your mouth. “Do you want me to touch you?”

The truth was that your entire body was aching for his touch. You could feel the heat burning between your legs and were aware that your arousal had started coating the insides of your thighs. It had been a long time since you’d felt so turned on. 

And yet, the thought of him actually doing something about it made you nervous. 

“I’m not sure,” you admitted. “I would like to kiss you again, though.”

He let out a breathy laugh before finding your mouth once more. Feeling his lips on yours only blazed up the fire burning inside you. You shifted your position until you were hovering over your husband, one of his thighs pressed between yours. 

Tentatively you began rocking your hips against his leg, sighing as you realized how pleasant the friction was. 

“Is that okay?” You breathed against his lips as you kept moving. 

“More than okay,” he reassured you. “Use my body however you like.”

You sat up as you ground against his skin, feeling him tense his thigh underneath you. Taking his hands in yours, you placed them on your hips so he could help you move. Soon you had created a mess on his leg as you spread your wetness along his skin. 

With your entire entire body twitching, your motions became erratic. Looking down at Spencer, you found him staring at you with lust-filled eyes and a wicked grin painted over his face. 

As you danced along the edge of euphoria, you forgot your surroundings. It was only you and him right then. “I love you,” you whimpered and before your husband could respond, you collapsed into his arms as pleasure overcame you. You kept pressing your core against his leg as your whole body shook. 

Spencer held you firmly inside his arms as you came down from your high. He kissed your forehead and whispered, “I love you more.”

After your heart rate had come down to a normal frequency and you weren’t panting anymore, you kissed your husband. 

“How are you feeling?” He wanted to know. 

“Good. And also a little sticky,” you snickered, hinting at the mess you had created between your legs. 

“Yeah, me too,” Spencer chuckled. “How about I run us a bath so we can get cleaned up?” 

The prospect of that made your heart flutter. “That sounds wonderful.”

Author's Note: Writing this story took me two years and I am so relieved I was finally able to get it to paper. I hope reading it felt as cathartic for you as writing it was for me. Thank you for reading! I would really appreciate a reblog and a comment.

Taglist: @adoredfromafar @grumpyy-bearr @frickin-bats @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @xserenax-13 @alexxavicry @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @reidsbookclub @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebs-oxygen @nomajdetective @kobaltdragon @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @castiels-majestic-wings

[nataliedecorsair]

For this Halloween, I present you my MRI monster + a little bonus story about it >:) --

It’s the tail end of October, when the days shrink down to thin slices of cold sunlight. The late autumn air is sharp and crisp. It’s carrying the scent of wet, dying leaves; it stirs a strange feeling inside you, a mix of melancholy and restless hunger for something more. An adventure, perhaps... or something darker.

And why not? You’re young, curious and like everything weird and unusual. For you anything out there is a story, and this one could be a story about the unfortunate abandoned hospital at the end of a broken road. Folks say this place is haunted, but maybe no one’s ever dared to find out for sure. You're certain it is time for you to solve this mystery for good.

You ease your way inside. The door gives a long, miserable creak as it opens, as if it hasn’t been touched in decades. The paint, once green, is almost gray now; it hangs in shreds, peeling off the wood like dead skin. The air in the hallway hits you, stale and thick, smelling of dust and something sour. You pull out your flashlight, clicking it on with a soft snap, and the narrow beam cuts through the dark, scanning over pockmarked walls and the occasional room. But, of course, you don't see anything but empty beds, rusty buckets, piles of ragged fabric left to rot. No signs of ghosts or ghouls - or anything remotely interesting, for that matter.

You explore for ten minutes, maybe more, telling yourself you’ll see something any second now. But after the seventh empty room, you start to think there's no mystery at all. Pretty expectable, isn't it? Or what, did you really think you’d find anything but dust, broken glass, and busted syringes? With a sigh, you turn to go, shaking your head.

You take a step into the hallway, flashlight slicing through the shadows, and that’s when you hear it: a low, dry crrrk-crrrk. At first, you think it’s the old building settling. But then it comes again, irregular and jittery, like static: crick-crack, crick-crick-crack. The sound’s sharper now, that unmistakable staccato of a Geiger counter ticking.

Your heart beats faster. You swing the flashlight in the direction of the noise, but there’s nothing there, just the same hollow walls and chipped paint. Crick-crack-crick. Louder now, closer... For a sick, sinking moment, you wonder if there’s something radioactive buried here, and shake your head in disbelief.

"It doesn’t make any sense," you think. "I don’t even have a Geiger counter." But your mind, stubborn as a mule, wrestles to make sense of the nonsense, to catalog that weird crackle and shove it into some drawer that fits. Maybe you’re just hearing things? The building is old, there could be some pipes. It's always the pipes that make the most uncanny noises.

But the thing making that sound... it doesn’t care whether you understand or not.

You run forward, not watching where you're stepping, and a rusty bucket clatters across the floor. You fumble as your flashlight slips from your hand, the beam ricocheting off the walls and scattering shadows like startled birds. You crouch to retrieve it, fingers scrambling over the filthy, dusty tiles. And that’s when you see it, illuminated by the flashlight laying on the floor.

Feet.

They're human, but wrong. Slightly translucent - and shot through with slowly swirling masses of black and red liquid, twisting just under the skin. You look upward, and you make out the outline of a woman in a tattered, filthy hospital gown. Her body consists of that liquid, contained within the thin walls of her grayish skin. Everywhere but her head. It looks like an MRI scan, flickering between 2D and 3D, a nightmare too strange for your eyes to comprehend. Empty white orbs stare down at you, soulless and wide. She has no lips, but her mouth peels back, revealing a row of long, black teeth: it almost looks like a smile. She leans in, and before you can scream, rushes towards you - and the world plunges into darkness.

...You wake up in your own bed, the morning light spilling through the curtains. What a horrible nightmare you just had! Head feels so heavy, it hurts with this annoying, pulsating, throbbing pain deep within your brain. You feel feverish. You got sick, perhaps? It would explain the dream, so realistic - and so ephemeral at the same time.

With a sigh, you brush your palm through your hair, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep... but your fingers snag on something. A clump of hair. You pull it free, bewildered. Since when have you started balding? Confusion morphs into unease as you glance down at the skin of your hand, red and sunburn. Sunburn in October? In this area?

"I should definitely see a doctor," you think, an anxious knot tightening in your stomach. "But not in this abandoned hospital." Nervous chuckle escaped your lips, as you tried to calm yourself down with this silly joke. "I will never go there again, whether it's a dream or not."

…At least, you thought so. -- More spooky art here and here

[gudfornuthin]

All I’ve Ever Wanted

Season 4!Five Hargreeves x fem!reader

! Spoilers ahead !

Summary: six years of travelling to different timelines, and Five isn’t sure how much longer he can go on for. Until he stumbles upon a greenhouse, full of strawberries. And you.

Word count: 4212

A/N: so season 4 was a… thing that happened. This story is basically my own idea of how things should’ve gone in ep 5. Instead of the weird Lila/Five situation, it’s just Five, and his chance of living a normal life with someone new. Hope you all enjoy, and feedback is appreciated :)

Number Five was never one to back down from a challenge. Having been through a series of different apocalyptic events, transporting to a timeline where he spent 40 years alone, and dealing with a misfit group consisting of his exhausting siblings, Five was up for anything. But the current situation he was dealing with? For the first time in his life, he was at breaking point.

After another wasted day spending hour after hour searching for any clues or information on how to get back to the correct timeline, Five returns to the subway, entering one of the compartments and slumping down in the first chair he sees. He rubs his eyes and lets out a visceral sigh, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep. He reaches into his pockets, pulling out a small pack of dried fruits. He rips it open and devours every last piece. He can’t remember the last time he had a proper meal. He was becoming more desperate, rummaging through trash cans and foraging in bushes, hoping anything he picks isn’t poisonous.

The compartment jolts and begins to move, making its way to the next timeline. Five wipes his hands on his already dirty pants, standing up and walking slowly to the door. He wonders whether his apocalypse counterpart will be waiting for him this time.

After several minutes, and Five almost falling over from his lack of sleep, he finally arrives, the doors opening. He steps out, immediately making his way up the stairs. No time to waste. He cautiously pokes his head out, looking around for any signs of, well, himself. Before he can move out more, something wizzes past his head. A bullet. He ducks, as more shots are fired directly at him.

“Give me a fuckin’ break,” Five mumbles, as he finally takes notices of the other him in the distance.

He sticks up his middle finger, and no soon after closes his fists, blinking as quick as he possibly could.

The Five with a gun disappears along with the destroyed world around him. Five drops his arms to his sides, turning around and admiring the new environment. Luscious, greenery surrounds him, with an array of different flowers sprouting from the ground beneath him. A small pond with fish glimmers in the sunshine, lily pads floating on top. He continues turning, finding himself standing next to a tall greenhouse. The glass was slightly foggy, making it difficult to see what’s inside. Five leans in closer, squinting as if that would help. He can barely make out what appears to be pots of fruit and vegetables, some fully sprouted and others not yet ripe. His stomach rumbles, the feeling of hunger consuming him.

A rustle sounds from behind him. He turns quickly, coming face to face with a pair of shears. Five jumps back slightly. He then spots the person wielding said ‘weapon’. A young woman, probably early twenties, wearing a light yellow dress and a pair of brown sandals. Five can’t help but admire her beauty, if it wasn’t for the fact she had a face like fury and didn’t seem afraid of cutting him in half.

“Can I help you?” Her words are kind, but her harsh tone says otherwise.

Five can’t exactly tell this young woman the truth. Showing up randomly in her back yard, covered in grime, gawking at her crops through the window. He raises his hands up in the air, trying to convey that he meant no harm.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his throat sore having not spoken to anyone in quite some time. “I don’t really know how I got here.” That’s not exactly true. “I’ve been travelling for a few days now.” Try six years. “And I could really do with a hot shower and something to eat.”

The woman doesn’t say anything, just staring, with the shears still held out in front of her.

Five puts his arms down, shrugging in defeat. “I’ll just go. I truly am sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out.” He looks down. “Or step all over your rose garden.” He gingerly moves away from the destroyed flowers.

He turns and begins to walk away, hoping to find an exit as quick as possible. Blinking in front of this woman probably wouldn’t help his cause. A warm hand grabs hold of his wrist, forcing him to stop and look back. She has the shears loosely hanging by her side, as her eyes pierce into Five’s. She seems hesitant, words forming in her mind. At last, she speaks again.

“You’re telling the truth?”

Five nods incessantly, feeling like a child.

“And if I let you in and make you something to eat, you won’t try and kill me?”

Five holds back a laugh, knowing she’s being deadly serious. “I wouldn’t dare.”

The woman waits a beat, then huffs. “Come on, I was just about to start dinner.”

She moves past Five, walking into three greenhouse. He takes this as a sign to follow after her.

***

The young woman allows Five to use her shower, and he’s thankful for the change of clothes she provides for him too. The home is small and cosy, playing into the stereotypical cottage core of living. The lighting is soft, and the smell of pumpkin seems to waft through into every room. It’s calming, it’s peaceful, it’s something that makes Five feel on edge. He isn’t used to the domestic life, away from the terror and destruction, trying to save the world over and over. He knows he can’t stay here long, but he won’t miss the opportunity of a proper cooked meal.

After putting on the change of clothes, Five makes his way down the hall and into the kitchen, a small buffet waiting for him. He finds it hard not to drool, the potatoes and fresh pie, along with the fruit and vegetables he’d spotted earlier. It looks incredible. He takes a seat, as the woman places down a final plate of tomatoes, sitting down opposite Five.

They dish out the food, filling their plates as high as they can, especially Five. He tries not to look like a slob in front of the pretty girl, but finds it hard not to drop some things down his top. She doesn’t seem to notice, or pretends not to.

The woman takes a sip of her drink, clearing her throat. “So,” her soft voice makes Five look up from his plate. “Do you have a name or is that one of the many mysteries of the man shovelling food down his throat like he hasn’t eaten in several years?”

The woman isn’t afraid of being upfront. Five admires that. Although, it’s not surprising considering he’s a complete stranger she’s trusted in her home. He puts down his knife and fork, grabbing a napkin to wipe his mouth.

“No, I have a name. It’s Fi-,” he catches himself, unsure if his ‘name’ would just create more confusion, and unwanted questions. “Jerome. Just, Jerome.”

The woman squints her eyes, but doesn’t push further, seeming to move past his stumble. “Okay. I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Jerome.”

Five shrugs, not knowing what else to say.

“My names Y/N.”

Five nods. “Okay. We’re closer already.”

“Don’t push it,” Y/N says, a small smile gracing her face. Five can’t help but pull the same expression.

***

After a hearty dinner, and some obvious awkward silences, Five insists on helping Y/N do the washing up. The sun was beginning to set, and Five knows he’ll have to leave soon, but something stops him from doing so. He doesn’t want to admit it, but this was the most relaxed he’d felt in a long time. The fear or worry of something bad happening wasn’t there, and as he stands close to the woman he had barely met 2 hours ago, he realises what he’d been missing in his 60 something years. A place to live, with a person who makes him feel safe.

“Jerome,” the voice breaks through his thoughts, as Five almost forgets the name he’d given to this woman. “I feel like we’ve skirted around the topic enough. Is there any reason you were in the state you were in, taking refuge behind my greenhouse?”

Five places down the plate he was cleaning, turning to face her fully. Her expression is calm, and her voice shows no sign of interrogation. It’s a first for Five, as he’s become accustomed to people prodding him for information only for their own benefit. No one’s ever shown true interest in him.

He shrugs. “It’s been a tough couple of years. More than that I guess.” Fives eyes glaze over. “I haven’t seen my family in a long time, and I don’t know if I ever will. And if I do, I’m terrified of the state that I’ll find them in.”

Y/N stops what she’s doing, also turning to look at Five, a look of worry taking over her face. He knows he’s said more than he should have, but he couldn’t help it. He’s not good at sharing his feelings, and when he does, he’s scared of what will happen once the flood gates are opened. He isn’t sure if he’ll ever be able to close them.

“What d’you mean? Are they in some kind of trouble?” She asks, a slight shake in her voice. “Are you in trouble?”

Five shakes his head, not wanting to stress out this poor woman who’s been nothing but doting to him. “No! No, I just,” he sighs, knowing he’s really put his foot in it. “I just care about them, a lot. Too much. And I don’t even want to think about not seeing them again.”

A soft hand brushes against Five’s cheek, as he glances at Y/N wiping a tear away from his face. He didn’t even realise he’d started crying. He sniffles, moving away and rubbing at his eyes, fearing how red they may look. He sucks in a deep breath, calming his beating heart. Whether it’s from talking about his family, or the touch from the woman next to him, he isn’t sure. But he fears he’s overstayed his welcome.

Five moves away from the kitchen counter. “I guess I should probably go. Don’t wanna miss my train.” Although he knows they’ll always be one there waiting for him.

He heads for the door, remembering to go upstairs and collect his dirty clothes before he leaves. Footsteps are heard from behind him.

“Uh,” Five swivels back around, as Y/N hesitates over her words. “This may seem kinda forward, and a dangerous move on my part, but, I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight knowing you were out there in the middle of the night, traveling by yourself.”

Five holds his breath, not wanting to jump the gun, but already anticipating the next sentence out of her mouth.

“I have extra pillows, and blankets.” Y/N shrugs. “It’s not the most comfortable couch but I’d say it’s more comfortable than the chairs on the train.”

Neither of them speak for a while. Five ponders her offer over and over, wondering if this is something he wants to decline. He needs to get back to his family. He needs to get back to help them. But so far, every option has been a bust. He’s not sure how much longer he can go on for. It could be the apocalypse all over again. Stuck for 40 years, traveling none stop, unsure if he’ll ever see his loved ones again. Could a good nights sleep really be such a bad thing?

He thinks the risk is worth it. “As long as it’s not too much trouble for you.”

***

That one good nights sleep turned into three months, staying at Y/N’s home, crashing on her couch. It didn’t stop Five from going out, back to the subway, trying to find the possible solution to his six year problem. But the more time he spent with the woman, the less time he wanted to spend away from her. They grew closer, making meals together, gardening together, watching silly romcoms together. While Y/N taught Five how to bake, Five taught her how to fight. A young woman living by herself? It didn’t hurt knowing some basic defence skills.

Five didn’t want to admit it, but his family hadn’t crossed his mind as often as it usually did before he met Y/N. He’d become soft, wanting to be around her all the time, not wanting to visit the subway as often as he should be. He’s lucky enough to call her a friend. He hopes she calls him that too.

***

It’s late, and Y/N is sat on the couch, crocheting a few pairs of gloves and a long overdue jumper. People used to make fun of her for it, calling her an old lady, but she finds it soothing. And making your own clothes is a big bonus too. Five, or Jerome as she knew him, had been out most of the day. She never questioned what he was up to, only that he returned safe, ready for whatever she’d cooked up for him during the day. She wasn’t completely naive in thinking ‘Jerome’ has involved himself in shady business. But unless he plans on telling her, then she won’t bother pushing him on the matter.

A bang echos from the back of the house, specifically inside the geeenhouse. It makes Y/N jump up from her seated position, quickly rushing out to the source of the noise. It can only be one person, or that’s what she hopes. Either way, she grabs for her shears before entering the warm glass room.

“Jerome?” She whispers, watching her step, the only light in the room coming from the moon through the windows.

A muffled groaning reaches her ears, as Y/N blindly moves her hands over the walls, trying to find the light switch. She finally does, and flicks it on. A sharp gasp comes out of her mouth, as the brightness finally reveals her new friend curled in a ball on the floor, rolling in pain.

“Shit.”

She quickly makes her way over to him, delicately wrapping her arms around his waist and slowly helping him off the floor. He stumbles, knocking into a few pots, almost making them fall off the table.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, the word slurring under his breath.

“Don’t apologise,” she says, making sure he’s steady on his feet. “Let’s just get you inside and onto the couch.”

They make their way through into the living room, Five dropping haphazardly onto the soft cushions, while Y/N finally gets a proper look at him. His clothes are ripped, the once pristine suit (one she bought for him as a gift) now in tatters. His hair is sticking up in all different directions, and he’s clutching to his side like his life depends on it. She reaches for his arm, prying it away to reveal an array of bullet wounds, still bleeding.

“You should see the other guy,” Five jokes, tilting his head back and trying to forget about the burning pain running across his body. Funnily enough, if Y/N saw the other guy, he’d look exactly like him, considering this all happened due to an unfortunate run in with apocalypse Five.

Y/N stares at him with wide eyes. “Really? Look, I don’t bother asking where you go or what you’re up to when you leave this house, but I think now’s the time you tell me the truth.”

Five moves his head back down, looking her in the eyes. She’s terrified. And he hates that. He breathes in deep, taking her hand in his.

“If you can help me patch this shit up,” he briefly motions to his wounds, “then I’ll tell you who I really am.”

So that’s what they do. Y/N retrieves the first aid kit from her bathroom, while Five opens up about his life before he met her, and how he’s not from this timeline. He isn’t sure if she’s believing what he says, as she remains quiet the entire time, only occasionally looking up at him and quickly returning to removing the bullets lodged in his side. But she listens. And allows him to pour his heart out to her.

“The past six years were torture. Somehow worse than the forty I spent in the apocalypse.” Five turns his head and stares at the woman next to him, as she finishes up her work. “But these last few months with you. I could finally be normal. I could live a life most guys would kill to have. And I’m so sorry I lied to you this long.”

They fall into silence, the pair somehow closer together than they were a few minutes ago. Both emotionally, and physically. Y/N moves her hand and takes his, squeezing tightly. Five’s heartbeat picks up speed, only now noticing their close proximity.

“So your real name is ‘Five’?” He nods at her words. She nods back. “Hmm. It suits you a lot better than Jerome.”

They both laugh half heartedly, as they stare deeply into each other’s eyes. She moves her hand up to his hair, moving it out of his face, trying to calm it down slightly.

She carries on talking. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through.” Five rolls his eyes. She doesn’t even know the half of it. “But if I can be the person to keep you grounded, for however long you’re here for, then I’m happy to do just that.”

Five smiles, glancing quickly at her lips.

She does the same. “And I hope you’re here for a long time.”

They both lean in, softly pressing their lips against each other’s. Five cups her face, deepening the kiss as Y/N rests her arms atop his shoulders. They move in sync, careful not to cause any more damage to Five’s wounds, as she somehow moves closer, one of her legs wrapping itself around his waist.

They don’t stop, clothes discarded, bodies intertwined, as their growing tension is finally broken. Five isn’t sure if he’ll ever get back to his timeline, but for now, he’s happy to call this place home.

***

Another four months, and still no sign of a way back. Although, Five can’t deny he hasn’t been trying as hard as usual. The peace and tranquillity has consumed him whole, falling into a proper routine with the woman he…

Is it love? Could he truly fall for someone like this? Someone who isn’t involved in the shit show he’s grown accustomed to? Someone who wants that quiet life, watering flowers and baking pies, with him? Maybe it’s what he needs.

Five stands in the greenhouse, picking some fresh strawberries, and trying a few to see if they were ripe. He’s already found the perfect recipe to use them in. Something he knows she’ll love.

As if reading his thoughts, a pair of arms slip around his waist. Y/N rests her chin on his shoulder, peaking over to see the basket full of fresh fruit. She picks one up, moving away and popping it in her mouth. Five turns and looks at her, smiling wide.

“They taste perfect,” she says.

Five takes her wrists, pulling her towards him and kissing her lightly. “So do you.”

She laughs, holding him close and breathing him in. “The cheesy lines don’t work on me, bub.”

“I think they do.” He mumbles, bringing her in for another kiss, sliding his hands up and down her back.

They stay like this for a while, holding each other in the warm glass room. The sun starts to set, as Five looks out and realises what time it is.

“Damn.”

She looks at him, confusion on her face. “What’s up?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing, I just need to do a double check of the subway before dinner.”

Y/N tries not to show her anxiousness, but some of it seeps through. After Five explained to her what the subway is and why he goes there every day, she’s terrified at the thought of him leaving and never coming back. But she knows he wouldn’t do that to her. Not without saying goodbye.

She steps back. “Right. Promise you’ll be safe?”

He kisses her on the cheek. “I promise.”

***

Five spends some time looking around the platform in the subway, checking the lights, checking the maps, even poking his head into the tunnels to see if anything has changed. But nothing. It all remains the same. No sign of his past life waiting for him. Was that such a bad thing?

Holding a small flashlight, he shines it up and down, left and right, hoping his eyes will catch something new. A sudden pop from above startles him, the grip he had on the flashlight loosening. It falls and rolls onto the tracks. Five looks up, noticing one of the bulbs now flickering. He huffs, moving to the edge of the platform and jumping down. He retrieves the flashlight, hitting it a few times to try and get it to work again. It comes to life, flashing in front of him. That’s when he spots something.

“That’s new.”

Five walks over, grabbing the mystery object and holding it up. It’s a plain notepad. He flips it open, scanning over the messy handwriting inside. His messy handwriting. He can’t help but let out a tiny gasp, as he figures out what it all means.

“This is it.” Tears form in his eyes. “This is my way back home.”

He’s shocked. He’s elated. He’s emotionally drained. This is his chance to rejoin his timeline. To see his family after so long. To fix the mess they’ve created. But all he can think about in this moment is Y/N. How the hell is he supposed to break the news to her?

***

After another hour spent pondering this new found information, Five slowly makes his way back home. His home. Where the life he’d built was waiting for him.

He enters the house and walks into the kitchen, where Y/N stands by the stove, boiling something sweet and caramelly. Five just stares at her; humming a random tune, wiping her messy hands on the apron he bought for her when her old one accidentally caught fire. That was the most stress he’d felt since coming here. And if that was the only stress he had to deal with, he’d take it every single day.

She finally turns and spots him, smiling wide. “Oh hey! I was worried for a sec, you were taking longer than expected.”

She moves closer to him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He holds her, not wanting to let go. Y/N can tell something isn’t right.

She leans back. “You okay?”

Five doesn’t reply, only holding the notepad out for her to take. She does so, flipping through the pages just like he did, her expression perplexed.

“I don’t understand-”

“It’s the way back to my timeline.”

She looks up at him, mouth slightly open, as her words fall short. Five can swear he hears her heartbeat speed up, as her breathing becomes erratic. Five isn’t sure what to do, waiting for an explosion of emotions to rain down on him. But nothing comes. Neither of them do or say anything.

Five chooses to break the silence. “I don’t wanna lose you. I can’t. I don’t think I could live the way I used to live. Not after living this life with you.”

Y/N bites her lip, suppressing a sob. “You have to go.”

Five furrows his brow, hoping he heard her wrong. He tilts her head up to stare into her eyes, seeing the tears forming.

“No,” he whispers. “You’ve become the most important thing in my life. The thought of never seeing you again, I can’t do that.”

A tear falls down her cheek, as Five reaches out to wipe it away.

“I’d love nothing more than to stay in this little bubble we’ve created,” she replies, finding it hard to keep her voice steady. “But your family, your timeline, all those people? They need you more than I do. And I know deep down, you can’t bear the thought of letting them die, knowing you could’ve helped.”

Five wants to ask her to come with him. Become apart of his family. He knows she’d get on with them all. And they’d all love her, possibly more than they love him. But he knows it’s cruel to ask her to leave her life behind. The house, the garden, the home that she’s worked so hard on. And the thought of throwing her into the thick of it all. Putting her at danger? No chance.

He pulls her into his embrace, kissing her hard. They hold each other tight, their lips bruising as neither of them can stop the tears from falling.

Y/N is the first to pull away. “If you ever get the chance to come back to this timeline, you know where to find me.”

Five smiles, not wanting to let her go. He kisses her once more. “In the greenhouse, tasting just as sweet as the strawberries.”

[notlongtolove]

in the woods

three photos. three crime scenes. three notes. slowly, then all at once, it hits you. you know these words. you’ve read these words before. why do you know these words? where have you read them before? this work is part of the little red cap series

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff?

content: very brief mentions of a crime scene and blood. lit student reader helps spencer put together a clue he missed.

word count: 2.6k

note: this idea was truly so random but if you like it and are interested to see a p2 that includes her meeting the team feel free to lmk! i would love to develop this story but im having mad writers block rn lol anyways the linked poem is amazing, one of my favourites.

a line: Spencer Reid hardly swears, if ever, but the next words out of his mouth are nothing short of explicit.

But then I was young – and it took ten years In the woods to tell that a mushroom Stoppers the mouth of a buried corpse, that birds Are the uttered thought of trees, that a greying wolf Howls the same old song at the moon, year in, year out- carol ann duffy

Spencer’s distracted tonight. You noticed it the moment he breezed past you, pressing a distracted kiss to your cheek before disappearing into the study. Normally, you’d give him space, let him untangle the thoughts on his own, but it’s past midnight now, and you’ve decided enough is enough.

“Spence,” you call softly from the doorway. 

He doesn’t look up.

​​You take a breath and step inside, the floorboards cool under your bare feet. The study feels foreign to you. You’re hardly ever in here despite Spencer’s gentle efforts to make space for you after you’d started spending more time at his place. He’d cleared half of the mahogany desk for your own books and files—a space now claimed by a few framed photos of the two of you from last year’s Christmas market.

You’ve always preferred his bed over the confines of this room, the comfort of his sheets beneath you, his bedside table the perfect coaster for your copious cups of coffee as you slog over your essays. The study always felt too still, almost stifling. It’s the kind of quiet that breeds overthinking, though Spencer thrives in it—Especially when it’s work.

Which it does seem to be tonight, judging by the furrow of his brow and the way his hands are clasped, tense, as he pours over the file in front of him. You cross the remaining space and place a gentle hand on his shoulder, thumb moving in soothing circles. 

“Hey,” you murmur, leaning down to speak into the curve of his neck. He reaches up absently, fingers threading into your hair, but his eyes stay fixed on the contents on the desk. 

“Come to bed,” you whisper, quieter this time, softer, as though you might coax him away if you’re gentle enough. 

He murmurs something you don’t quite catch, his focus still locked on the papers. You frown, the corners of your mouth tugging downward as you try again, this time layering your voice with the soft insistence you know he can’t resist.

“Please?”

That gets him. He sighs, the sound heavy, before slowly swivelling his chair around to face you. There’s a small flicker of satisfaction in your chest—still got it, you think, though his tired eyes make it hard to fully savour the victory.

“Soon, honey,” he says, soft and apologetic, but it’s not enough for you.

“Missed you today,” you murmur, stepping closer.

He shuts his eyes for a moment, reaching out to pull you into him. His arms wrap around your waist as he presses his face into your stomach, breathing you in like you’re the first fresh air he’s had all day. And with the day he’s had, you might as well be. 

“It’s almost 1,” you remind him gently, brushing a strand of his hair back. “And you haven’t even showered.”

He makes a sound—somewhere between a groan and a half-hearted protest. Probably indignation, though he doesn’t bother to articulate it. When he finally lifts his head to look at you, your chest tightens. He looks so so tired. Handsome, always, but tonight, the weariness in his eyes is impossible to miss.

“Aw, honey,” you coo, voice soft with affection. “C’mere.”

It’s ironic, considering you’re the one climbing into his lap. The chair protests under your combined weight with a faint creak, but neither of you care. Just your presence alone is a comfort that Spencer accepts all too willingly. He doesn’t hesitate, pulling you closer and burying his face into you, fingers toying with the edges of your—his shirt.

“Tough case?” you ask quietly, your fingers slipping into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp.

He nods defeatedly, the motion slow and heavy, like even that small acknowledgment takes too much out of him.

“He’s already—” Spencer sighs, low and weary. “Already killed three women. And the profile is… flimsy at best.”

You nod quietly, your fingers gently tracing patterns on his shoulder. Though crime-solving and criminal profiling aren’t your expertise, the weight of what he carries is never lost on you. You’ve come to know the signs all too well.

You see it in the way he comes home after cases like this—silent, drained, his body curling into yours. You hear it in his voice when his worry spills over during arguments, like the time he snapped at you for drinking too much on a night out after a brutal final. It wasn’t out of anger but fear, raw, born from the evils he sees every day. He’d never explicitly linked it to the horrors of his work, but you didn’t need to be a profiler to piece it together. 

“You’ll catch him,” you say softly, keeping your voice steady despite the knot tightening in your stomach. “You guys always do.”

Spencer sighs, releasing one hand from your waist to rub the bridge of his nose. “There’s something off,” he mutters, words tinged with frustration. “I just... I can’t figure out what it is.”

“Do you… want to talk about it?” you offer gently, watching his face for any sign of what he needs.

He manages a faint, tired smile and shakes his head. “I’d rather not,” he murmurs.

You nod, letting it go. Spencer tries, always, to keep that part of his life separate from you. But even you know some things are impossible to leave behind. Shadows don’t adhere to boundaries. They’re stubborn and heavy, sometimes seeping into the cracks of his resolve. All you can do is try your best to hold him together when that weight gets too much to bear. Leaning into him, you rest your head against his, the silence between you filled with a kind of unspoken understanding.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Spencer whispers after a moment, as though he can sense your quiet disappointment at not being able to do more. His arm tightens around your waist as though anchoring himself. You press a soft kiss to his temple, a quiet gesture of acknowledgement.

“Now,” you say, standing up. Spencer leans forward instinctively, unwilling to let the warmth of you go. “Shower?”

He glances between you and the desk strewn with papers, hesitation in his face. “After I—”

“Nope,” you interrupt, grabbing both his hands and gently pulling him to his feet. “I’ll handle this,” you say, gesturing to the chaos on the desk. “You,” you point toward him, then toward the bathroom, “Shower. Now.”

Spencer lets out a long-suffering sigh, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. “Bossy,” he teases softly.

“Maybe,” you reply, a playful glint in your eyes. “But you love me.”

Without missing a beat, Spencer wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer as he presses a kiss to your lips. “Wow,” he murmurs against your mouth, his tone warm and teasing. “Bossy and smart. How did I get so lucky?”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling, nudging him lightly toward the bathroom. “Go,” you say, laughing. “Before I add ‘violent’ to that list.” At that, Spencer tears his arms away from your waist, holding his hands up in mock surrender as he backs slowly toward the door. “Go!” you laugh again, shaking your head at him before turning your attention to the desk strewn with papers.

You turn your attention back to the desk surveying the organized chaos, trying to piece together how he usually files them. The thin sheets—pale and slightly crumpled—belong in the manila folder. The thicker briefs, stapled neatly, go in the black case. And the photos…

Huh. 

Your hand pauses mid-reach, brow furrowing as your eyes fall on the glossy prints. You tilt your head. Something about them feels—almost… familiar, maybe. You stop to lay them out side by side, studying them more closely. 

Three photos. Three crime scenes. Three notes. 

The first note reads, ‘I burn.’ The words are scrawled haphazardly, the letters jagged and uneven.

The second is darker, more ominous, ‘Your knife.’ Its edges marked by splatters of blood.

The third is the most unsettling of all. Just two words. ‘All alone.’ Stark and final. 

Slowly, then all at once, it hits you. 

You know these words. You’ve read these words before. 

Why do you know these words? Where have you read them before?

It gnaws at you. The exhaustion you felt earlier is long gone as you find yourself sinking into Spencer’s chair. Your fingers trace the edges of the prints as you try to piece together your fragments of memory. You don’t know how much time has passed since you first laid eyes on the photos until Spencer calls to you from the bedroom.

“In here,” you answer absently.

When he steps into the doorway, your heart flutters despite yourself. He’s a sight to behold—hair damp, shirt slightly clinging to his chest, a towel draped over his shoulders as he dries his hair.

“Hey,” he says, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Why’re you still in here?”

“Got distracted,” you murmur, gesturing to the desk.

“Intriguing, huh?”

“She definitely is,” you reply, almost without thinking.

“I don’t know when he’ll strike next—” he starts, then stops abruptly. His expression shifts, his gaze sharpening as he looks at you. 

“What’d you just say?”

“Hm?” You blink, finally meeting his eyes.

“You said ‘she’s’ intriguing,” he repeats, stepping closer now. “You think the unsub’s a she?”

“Isn’t she?” you say, frowning at the question. “I could definitely use a lot of other words to describe her, but…” your voice uncertain.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, the poems, for one—I mean, they’re all about hurt and enraged women,” you explain. “And signing off with them? That’s definitely not not intriguing…” You trail off, puzzled by the sudden gravity of the conversation. 

Spencer goes rigid, every muscle in his body locking up. “Poems?” 

“Yeah,” you say, your voice small now, “The notes. They’re all closing words of Duffy’s poems. I thought you—Did you not…” 

Your words trail off as you see his face harden, eyes widening as the weight of your words hits him. 

“Oh my god.” Your hands fly to your mouth as the realization hits you, the pieces suddenly falling into place. “You didn’t know.”

Spencer Reid hardly swears, if ever, but the next words out of his mouth are nothing short of explicit. He’s already moving towards the desk, the towel falling unnoticed to the floor. “Show me,” he says, urgency in his voice. You get up quickly, wanting to make room, but he stops you. “No, you sit,” he says, eyes locked on the notes. “Show me.”

“Okay, okay.” You steady yourself before pointing to the first note. “Um, look, this one, ‘I burn.’ It’s from her poem Warming Her Pearls. She’s a maid who secretly pines for her mistress. She loves her but, well, she can’t be with her cause they’re from different societies.” You look up at him expectantly. “It’s about class inequality and…”

“Unrequited love.” Spencer finishes gravely, his voice low but certain.

“Right, exactly.” You glance up at him, searching his face for understanding. Spencer nods, taking it in, and you move on to the next. 

“And then this one, ‘Your knife.’ It’s from Valentine. The speaker, she doesn’t want the usual valentine gifts, so she gives an onion instead. But… she says it’ll make the receiver cry, because well, onions do that. It’s a basically a metaphor for love, how—” You take a deep breath, your throat tightening. “How dangerous it can become.”

Spencer stays quiet, but his eyes are fixed on you. His hand finds your back, giving a reassuring, gentle rub.

You hesitate before pointing to the last note. “And this one, ‘All alone.’” You swivel the chair around to face him fully, the tension in your chest growing. “I wasn’t sure about the first two, but when I saw this, I knew.”

“Little Red Cap,” Spencer finishes for you, his voice tinged with self-reproach. “Your favourite. God, why didn’t I see this?”

You nod, your voice softening. “Yeah. The opening poem of The World’s Wife. She uses Red Riding Hood to explore growing up, losing innocence and… well, you know the rest.”

Spencer’s lips press into a thin line as he nods grimly. “The wolf represents someone older, predatory. A lover.”

“Yeah, and she uh,” you say, barely a whisper. “She kills him.”

Spencer’s jaw tightens, his frustration evident. “How did I not—How’d you—” If the situation weren’t so dire, you might have joked about never expecting to hear those words from Spencer Reid. Instead, you force a shrug, casual, as if your analysis hadn’t just reshaped everything. “TA-ed a few classes on Duffy,” you say grimly.

The silence stretches, heavy and charged, until Spencer crouches down in front of you. His sharp eyes soften as they meet yours. “You’re… you’re incredible, you know that?” His tone is low, reverent. He presses a brief, warm kiss to your forehead before standing, running a hand through his still-damp hair. Then his expression shifts, eyes darkening with urgency. “I need to make a call.” 

You nod silently, still curled up in his chair. You don’t trust your legs to carry you to the bed that’s one room over, not right now. Spencer steps away, his phone already pressed to his ear. It takes only a few moments before he starts speaking.

“Hotch,” he begins, “I think the unsub is a woman.”

The reply on the other end is muffled, but you can follow the conversation through Spencer’s responses.

“Poems, yeah—Carol Ann Duffy,” he says, pacing a few steps. “We’ve been looking for patterns in the wrong places.”

He pauses, listening, before adding, “How’d I—? Just… from a friend.”

His tone is careful, protective. You know Spencer doesn’t want his team knowing about you. When Spencer told you he wanted to keep his professional and personal lives separate, you didn’t understand at first. But after he’d opened up about what happened to his boss—how it shattered everyone—you stopped pushing. You understood then why he was so insistent on drawing those boundaries, even if it meant staying in the shadows of his world. 

You watch him, eyes tracing the way his jaw clenches, the restless motion of his fingers. “This is the lead we need. What—No, we don’t need to bring them in.” ​​You can see the moment his patience snaps.

“What we need is to focus on her work—her themes, her voice. It’ll give us insight into the unsub’s mindset. No, I—” Spencer’s tone sharpens, frustration creeping in as he rakes a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends. 

“I know this is important, I’m not saying it isn’t—” He stops mid-sentence, the voice on the other end cutting him off. His lips press into a thin line, and he exhales through his nose, fingers pinching the bridge. “Fine,” he mutters, his tone tense but resigned. 

“Okay.” He pauses for a beat, “We’ll—she’ll be there.”

As he hangs up, Spencer turns back to you, his expression carefully guarded. “What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks, tentative.

You have two lectures. “Nothing,” you say, the word slipping out easily. He frowns, uncertain. 

“Kristoff’s out sick, and Burton doesn’t care about attendance anyway,” you quickly lie. The tension in his face eases just slightly, but you can still see the hesitation in his eyes.

“Right, um, my boss,” You can sense a hint of nervous energy in the way he shifts his weight. “He wants us in at 8, sharp. I’ll drive.”

The apology is clear in his expression as he crouches down, taking your hands in his. “I know this isn’t exactly what you signed up for,” he says, his voice quieter now. “But... I know he wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.” 

A simple, quiet “I know” is all you can manage.

You can tell he feels bad about dragging you into this. You definitely hadn’t imagined this would be your introduction to his world either—messy, intense, and impossibly heavy. And from this brief glimpse, you’re not sure if you’re ready for it after all.

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