#Anyway it turned a day that could have been very exhausting and traumatic into one of my favorite memories

[queen-beefcake-sqx]

me, knocking back THC drinks and xanax: I’m going to commune with a parrot again.

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 8

it's the morning after. spencer reid suspects you’re left with some doubts after losing your virginity to him. he has to figure out why—which is hard when you're keeping secrets.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, blood related to losing virginity (dramatized for the drama duh), super vague allusions to the BAU being hungover, mild blasphemy if anyone even cares, pondering god bc am I really a fanfic writer if I don’t get a little religious w it, emily AND hotch are here and nobody knows why pls don't pay attention to that bc we are imagining like season 11/12 spencer and I'm inconsistent w who is unit chief in this series apparently, spencer slut lore, spencer emotional wounds lore, Spencer is a traumatic situationship survivor a/n: DADDYS HOMEEEEE (me and dybmn not spencer) anyway missed these little guys and am happy to be writing for them again!! idk what my upload schedule will becoming back to this but pls lmk what u think of this part, I have no idea how you will respond but I'm being brave and ily

Friday morning Spencer comes into the office fifteen minutes late (he tried his best), in yesterday’s suit (everything in his go-bag had been too wrinkled), hair messy (no doubt from your fingers), coffee cold (he’s exhausted) and overall, in an excellent mood.

The rest of the team isn’t faring quite as well—Spencer gathers they stayed at the bar celebrating Derek’s birthday a lot later than he had. It shows through sallow skin and dark circles and the grimaces he receives on the way to his desk that are probably supposed to approximate good morning’s. 

Honestly, he doesn’t mind the dull mood—he doesn’t need the teasing and the prying questions that would be sure to come if his co-workers were at peak performance and were able to put together his unusually perky demeanor and disheveled appearance. At least Prentiss doesn’t appear to be paying him any mind. She’s always the one who can read him like an open book and has no shame in doing so aloud. Echoes from years of, ‘so who was the lucky girl, last night, Reid?’ Still ring through his mind and it’s like he can feel her finger prodding at his side. 

The Emily of it all makes him smile, though the rest of the memory leaves a metal tang in his mouth. Back in those days, there were sometimes a lot of girls, but even then he was consciously aware he wasn’t necessarily doing something he enjoyed. He spent a lot of time, actually, staring at his bedroom ceiling, psychoanalyzing himself. Repetition compulsion. The insatiable desire to repeat or reenact emotionally painful experiences. Maybe he thought if he could teach himself to subsist off of emotionless hookups, he could in some way heal from his experience with Elle. Though, he’s hesitant to think of it now as healing—it’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing when a few nights after she said I don’t feel the same I’m sorry he opened up his front door for her. It’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing every time after that. So, maybe heal isn’t the right word, when one doesn’t have the right to be injured. Or when the injuries are, in a manner of speaking, self-inflicted. At the very least he could tell himself that this time around, meaningless sex was a choice he was making for himself. Spencer hates when things just happen to him. 

But you—you’re different. You were a complete surprise. At first, a cute and unexpected complication. After a few painful and short-lived attempts at real relationships, Spencer decided he was simply not to be trusted with emotional intimacy of any kind, including that which inevitably develops from physical intimacy, and would resign himself to a life of celibacy. He tried not to like you, but you were just so damn likable. Magnetic, to use a trite and perfectly honest turn of phrase. All that to say: he doesn’t regret you at all. There is no filter of putrid shame or anguish over his memories of last night. 

Just you. Perfect. Starlit. Glowing softly around the edges like you’re not even real. 

I love you I love you I love you. A hymn with no melody. You, always reminding him exactly why he is decidedly not a man of faith. At least, not in the typical sense of the word. 

How God became the idol and not Mary is lost on him. That’s why, Spencer supposes, tapping an eraser on his desk, marriage and sex were forbidden for so many ecclesiastics. After all, if they knew what it was to love a woman, specifically to love you, he doubts they’d feel like spending much time in the pulpit. Love. Humans had that long before they had any gods. It’s primeval. It’s the most natural manifestation of devotion and worship. It will always have come first. Isn’t it a better kind of religion when a man realizes he can kneel in front of a woman rather than an altar?

A heavy hand falling on his shoulder jolts him from his theological musings—which are in all practicality useless. What’s that saying about blasphemous thinking on the FBI’s dime? Right. There isn’t one. 

“I’m scared to ask,” Morgan says as Spencer jumps slightly in his chair. 

“What?” He mumbles, looking up from the document he’d only sort of been reading.

Morgan just looks at him, strong brows furrowed and a ditch between them, angles his head and glances to the side as if Spencer is missing the obvious. He almost follows Derek’s eye-line. When that doesn’t work, Derek just says your name. Like your status is somehow in question. 

“Did you two work things out, or not? It looked pretty bad when you guys were leaving last night.”

People often misunderstand an eidetic memory. It’s not like things can’t slip his mind—Spencer can actually be quite forgetful. It’s made worse by the fact that last night at the bar feels like months ago. For a moment, he has no idea what Derek is referring to. 

“Oh. Oh! Right, we—right. Yeah, we, uh—we worked it out.” Before Derek has a chance to read his face, no doubt as incriminating as his fumbled speech and an ill-timed throat clearing, he turns back to his paperwork. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her at the bar. I appreciate that.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Spencer’s lips twist as he can feel the incoming inappropriate comment. 

“Is that the same suit you were wearing last night?” Morgan quips, his wide grin audible. Spencer can practically hear the cartoon gleam of his friend’s bleached teeth. 

“No.”

“You dog.” Derek is still smiling as he claps Spencer’s shoulder again. “What did you say to her that worked so well?”

Spencer clears his throat again and tries to look extremely involved in logging onto his computer, speaking quickly as if he’s beyond disinterested and can’t wait for the exchange to be over. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m actually trying to work so if you wouldn’t mind going back to your desk that would be great.” 

“Uh-huh. I’ll let you work. But I see you, pretty boy.”

Spencer tries not to blush like a teenager as he refuses to look up. 

Naturally the rest of the day is a slow descent into dread and madness as all those good feelings with which Spencer had started his morning begin to harden into something much worse, chilled by your lack of response to the text he sent you earlier. Which was essentially a rehashing of the note he left on your bedside table. 

Maybe it was too much. It should’ve been one or the other, but not both. He’s overwhelmed you. 

Okay, so maybe this is what religion is for. A last ditch effort when you can’t talk to your girlfriend so you have to try talking to God. 

But Spencer knows you, and he knows something is wrong. You wouldn’t just ice him out so blatantly if everything was okay. He catches himself glancing up toward Hotch’s window to see if the blinds are drawn, and considers faking an illness to get out of work early and go check on you. But he powers through the remaining hour and a half that he is obligated to stay at work, he bounces a pencil between his fingers, drums at his desk, and gets nothing else done. As soon as 4:59 rolls around, he’s out. 

Spencer can hear shuffling on the other side of your door as he stands in the hallway. A pot clatters. The walls hum with the rush of water through the pipes to your sink. He knocks, relieved that you’re okay and at the same time struggling with that weight on his chest—something cold that leans over his shoulders and whispers into his ear—so she just didn’t want to talk to you. 

Suddenly all sound from inside your unit ceases. For a few long seconds, Spencer’s confusion only grows exponentially. 

“Who is it?” You finally call, voice wavering.��Also odd. Usually you just open the door. 

“Um… Spencer?”

“As in my boyfriend Spencer?”

He frowns, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly as he tries to decipher your sudden paranoia. “I hope so?”

The click and jingle of several locks precipitates your much-anticipated reveal. 

“Come in,” you say breathlessly, more harried than usual and not giving him the tender greeting he’s selfishly become accustomed to—barely even giving him a second to look at you. But he steps inside, watching on in concern as you do up every single lock—the one on the knob, the deadbolt, even the chain. Is this really all because of his little comment last night about anyone being able to get in? He certainly hopes not. He didn’t mean to terrify you. 

When you finally turn, he takes stock of your appearance. Big hoodie, pajama pants patterned in little hearts. Hair pulled back hastily. Your skin is sort of dull where you normally glow. But you’re beautiful, like always. It always aches just a little bit to look at you. Spencer’s always been like that. Going breathless at a particularly good piece of art or pretty girl. Like yourself. Mostly you. 

You quickly turn to hurry back into the kitchen. “I was trying to make dinner, I—”

“Hold on,” he interrupts, stopping you with a hand on your stomach that is so non-demanding it’s really mostly a suggestion. He tries to clear his head, though you make it hard. “You didn’t talk to me all day. Not that you have to, but… I was worried.”

You glance at the floor and mumble, “I lost my phone,” with so much embarrassment he believes you’re telling the truth. “Did you, um—did you text me?”

Insecurity. Spencer knows well what it looks like on you. He softens. You weren’t ignoring him—but you’d been left in a vulnerable state without any ability to contact him or anyone. That couldn’t have been comfortable. 

“Of course I did.” He pauses to observe you. Still anxious. Still prepared to run at any second. Something, and he’s not sure what, did a number on you today. Maybe it’s sheer exhaustion, maybe it was the anxiety of not having your phone. But he has to figure out what it is so he can undo it. “What? What’s wrong?”

He watches your breathing pause—watches your eyes gloss over with tears and a frown contort your features. Oh, god. He’s done something terribly wrong. It’s been thirty seconds and he’s done something wrong. 

“Can we sit down? I don’t feel very good.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we can. Whatever you need.”

You cast a baleful look at him and now he has to wonder what that means. Spencer sets his bag on a pulled out dining chair and follows you to the couch where you settle on opposite sides—you’re curled up in the far corner, hugging a pillow to your chest with your legs folded in front of you. Spencer’s heart is beating fast. He doesn’t know what’s going on with you and he can’t figure it out just by looking and you don’t seem eager to tell him. 

He’s exhausted all his typical ways of collecting information, and now he’s at a loss. 

Eventually, the anxiety comes bubbling up. 

“Please talk to me,” he pleads. And you do. Almost instantly, like he stepped on some sort of landmine. 

“I know it’s my own fault for not having my phone on me and not being able to see your texts, but it really sucks that I had to find out from my creepy neighbor that you snuck out in the middle of the night without saying goodbye.”

The whiplash is so strong it’s almost a broken neck. Spencer reels, frowning deeply as he tries to process your impromptu speech, the sudden confrontation. What creepy neighbor?

“I… didn’t. I went to grab my stuff from the car around one, but I came right back. I left at 7:30. You don’t remember me saying goodbye?”

Your brow furrows, and your eyes dart over the design on the rug like you’re watching memories go by. He sees it in your eyes when you recall some hazy image of him holding your face, kissing your cheek more times than was necessary and whispering sweet things against your lips before he had to go. You shrink into the couch, clearly struggling under the combined weight of relief and embarrassment. 

“I forgot. I thought… he said…”

A moment passes and it’s clear you’ve abandoned the sentence. Spencer is concerned about this shadowy male figure who put malicious untruths into your head. He slides his hand under yours and twines your fingers together. Finally, finally you meet his gaze. 

“Someone made you believe I left without saying goodbye.”

And he almost wishes you weren’t looking at him as more tears pool before falling down your cheeks. You nod, and don’t make a sound. 

“No, honey. I didn’t do that. I’m sorry that’s what you’ve been thinking all day.”

“I was worried that you… or that I wasn’t…”

His chest aches. You’d woken up alone, no recollection of his goodbye, and without the comfort of even a text. 

“You didn’t see my note?”

The way you look at him then is heartbreaking. Eyes wide and wet and sad, lip trembling. 

“You left a note?”

Murphy’s Law. Anything that can go wrong, will. 

It must’ve fallen off the bedside table, or maybe he just hadn’t positioned it obviously enough. 

A lost phone, a missed note, and not even a memory of his departure. While none of these things are verifiably Spencer’s fault, he feels so, so guilty. 

“I did,” Spencer says gently, scooting closer and pulling you into him, head pressed to his shoulder as you try not to cry, and he rubs your back slowly. 

Your sulky words are muffled by his shirt. “I didn’t see it. What did it say?”

“A lot of very nice things about you,” he whispers. Spencer thought maybe he could get away with giving you all the sincere compliments you can’t accept face to face through a note you could read while he wasn’t around. That way you couldn’t refute them or stop him. It was a good plan. 

He feels the sigh of relief leaving your body against his neck. 

“I didn’t know.”

“I know. I’m sorry. That’s not… I should’ve just stayed. This is my fault.”

You keep your cheek pressed to his shoulder as you speak. 

“It’s not. You have a job. A really important job. You can’t just call out whenever I want you around.”

Logically he knows you’re right, but he doesn’t always think logically around you. 

“I could’ve made it work. I could’ve come in late, or the team could’ve called me if there was a case, which there wasn’t—”

“Spencer, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”

He pulls back slightly, frowning at your tone. You do look relieved, much less plagued than you’d been when he arrived minutes ago, but something heavy still weighs you down. The burden of it darkens your eyes and dulls your expression. When he cups your cheek, you glance up at him, and then away once more. 

He speaks softly. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?” 

Again he earns a moment of your eye contact, but it’s fleeting. He watches the words spin around your head as you try to figure out what to do with them—and then choose to remain silent. 

There is in fact something you’re keeping from him. 

Spencer hates to use work tactics on you, but he doesn’t speak either, hoping that you’ll feel compelled to fill the silence with the truth. Knowing how you’re not entirely comfortable with quiet. 

And you try, lips parting and the sound delayed as you wrestle with something you clearly don’t know how to talk about. 

“I… my neighbor,” you say, frowning like you don’t quite know why you’re speaking. “The one who told me he saw you leaving in the middle of the night. He also—he said…”

Spencer brushes hair away from your cheek with a thumb, stroking the high point in gentle passes as your words taper off. Now that he’s thinking about it, he did encounter a man in a dumpy robe standing in the courtyard and smoking a cigarette when he left you tangled in sheets and dozing contentedly to get his bag from the car. In fact, they rode back up to your floor in the elevator in mostly awkward silence. Spencer was sure his outfit told a story—shirt untucked and hastily buttoned only partway, no belt, shoes barely tied, duffel slung over his shoulder—he wasn’t really expecting to run into anyone at such an hour, to be honest, but he hadn’t particularly cared what this man thought of him, so it didn’t cross his mind again.

Now he remembers. 

Long night, huh? I remember those days. 

It was an inappropriate comment, but given his job he’s used to ignoring those. Mostly his mind had been preoccupied with the idea of returning to you, who gave him such a warm and sleepy welcome when he climbed carefully back into your arms several minutes later that it was like he’d never known anyone else at all. 

Now he resents that he hadn’t said anything, he hates the idea that you spoke to this man and he said something to upset you and Spencer wasn’t there. Usually he tries not a judge a book by its cover (metaphorically, of course) but he’s been around enough bad men to know when he’s looking at one. Last night he hadn’t even been cognizant enough to realize they got off on the same floor. 

“What did he say, angel?” Spencer whispers, incapable of being anything but soft with you at the moment. Even though he senses something a lot like a tide of preemptive anger rising in his chest, painted over with layers of anxiety and guilt. He should’ve found a way to stay with you this morning. 

You sniffle and let your head fall again, forehead resting against his collar. Instinctively his hand slides to the back of your neck and even at the awkward angle he finds a way to press his lips to yours hair. “Can we talk about it later? I don’t feel good.”

If it’s making you this uncomfortable, Spencer really wants to know what passed between you and this neighbor. In fact, he’d be willing to bet a lot of your strange behavior this evening stems from something that occurred which you don’t feel comfortable telling him yet. But he manages to bite back anymore questions. He doesn’t want to make you feel interrogated. 

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” he says eventually, kindly, hand tracing down the length of your back and up again. “Why don’t you feel good?”

He doesn’t miss the way you reach up to discreetly wipe your cheek. But he won’t make you talk about anything you don’t want to talk about until you’re ready, and it seems like you’re already having a rough day. Which is not what he wanted. This is so far from what he wanted for you. He’s cursing himself for how he handled this whole situation. 

“Um, I just… I don’t know. I feel… bad. I’m sorry I’m being so weird.”

“You’re not being weird, honey. You had a hard day. You’re having a normal reaction to an abnormal set of circumstances.”

You sit up, sniffing and wiping your tears like you can just make the whole thing go away. 

“No, I am. I am. It’s all okay now, right? So I don’t know why I feel like this. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He watches helplessly. “Nothing is wrong with you. We’ve… it’s been a big couple of days. Mostly good, but I think you’re probably really tired. Emotionally and physically.” 

You bury your face in your hands and nod silently. He still feels like he’s shooting in the dark, but you’re not entirely comforted yet, and it’s killing him. 

“Whatever you’re feeling is okay. If this is… about last night, or this morning, or something entirely different—regardless of what it’s about, you’re not going to be… in trouble with me if you’re having complicated feelings. And you can talk to me. But it doesn’t have to be right now. We don’t have to figure it out all at once, okay?”

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, and for a moment, his words sink into silence. When you do raise your head, nodding, the evidence of your discomfort is all over your face—reddened eyes, cheeks polished with wiped tears. But you take a deep breath and try to project whatever it is you think he wants to see. 

The back of your hand is soft under his thumb as he sweeps it, as if he could draw forth more information that way. People speak when they’re ready.

“Is there anything I can do?” He tries, all ramped brow and soft spoken. 

You’re looking at where he’s tracing swirls on your hand as you swallow and blink the last of your tears away. 

“Um… you can say no, but—do you think it would be okay for you to maybe stay again tonight?”

Spencer sucks in a breath, painfully aware that he’s about to let you down. 

“I… I haven’t been home in a week. I’ve been wearing this suit for two days straight and I don’t think I would want to share a bed with me again until I shower.” He watches you wilt and lifts a hand to stroke your hair. “But I do want to spend time with you… do you maybe want to come stay with me instead? No pressure—”

“Okay. Yes. Is that okay?”

Spencer’s brow knits. You seem even more enthused about the idea of going to his apartment, like now that the opportunity has presented itself you can’t wait to get out. Maybe you have some sort of black mold problem. 

“Of course. Do you wanna grab a few things and then we can go?”

“Um—I also haven’t showered today. Do you mind waiting?”

“Sure. Or you could use mine. With supervision, this time.”

Spencer is attempting to make a joke about your unplanned (and unmoderated) stay at his apartment last week after he left—but looking at your face now he’s wondering if he touched a nerve. 

“Like… one at a time? Or…”

He thought maybe you’d be more comfortable around him after last night—and it’s not like he hadn’t seen you naked before then, either.

“Do you wanna do it one at a time?” He asks gently. 

There’s this sparkly sort of longing in your eyes that he’s seen before, but you tamp it down like always. You’re so cautious. About everything. Even the things you’re curious about. It’s sweet and a little sad. 

“I’ve never… showered with anyone.”

The corner of Spencer’s mouth twitches as he pushes hair over your shoulder. “I know. You don’t have to. We could save like 100 gallons of water depending on how long your showers typically last, but—”

“Spencer—”

“Sorry, sorry—I didn’t—I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not trying to pressure you. You absolutely can take your own shower. You can go first so you get the hot water.”

“No,” you laugh, and it’s like a sparkling cloud of gold has settled around you, fractals bouncing off the shine of your cheeks and eyes—the sound of your laughter, the look of it, is such beautiful relief he can’t believe how good it feels, but it fades from you quickly. “It sounds… I think I want to, I just… I don’t wanna, like… do… anything.”

For a split second your veiled language mystifies him and then he realizes what you’re trying to say without saying. Something has changed since yesterday, when you brazenly referred to it as fucking, and today, when you can’t even say sex. He’s gotten as far as it being something your creepy neighbor said. Maybe. He needs to know what. 

But that’s not the topic at hand. 

“We don’t have to. I didn’t mean to imply that we would do anything like that. I don’t expect anything from you.”

You swallow. 

“Okay. I wasn’t sure.”

About what?

He says your name. No response. 

“Can you look at me, please?”

It takes you a moment, and your head raises like you might need some oil in your hinges, but eventually you manage. Spencer hopes the way he’s rubbing your leg is comforting. 

“You know I’m never, ever going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, right?”

To his horror, your answer isn’t an immediate and resounding yes. Instead you look back down and cover his hand with your own, fiddling nervously with his fingers. 

Eventually, you reply, “Yeah… I know. I just thought… I’m not sure. Maybe it’s supposed to be different now.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Nothing has to be different. We’re still doing everything on your schedule, okay? And as for the next few days, at least—I think it might be a good idea to take sex off the table altogether.”

Your eyes narrow and you hesitate. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you worrying about it. And I don’t think it would feel good for you right now. I think there are things we need to talk about, but… we’ve probably tried enough for a while, hm?”

You give him a shy nod and hum your agreement. For a moment he lets his hand linger on your leg and then pulls it back. 

“Okay. Do you want my help packing a bag, or should I wait out here?”

“You can wait. It should only take a minute.” You pause, halfway up to look pensive. “Um, Spencer—do you think it would be okay if maybe I… if I stayed tonight and tomorrow? I just—I wanna get out of here, for a bit.”

He frowns but doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Can I ask why?”

“It’s just… suffocating sometimes,” you call as you turn and hurry down the hallway to the bedroom. “Feels like my neighbors are on top of me, like they’re… breathing down my neck, half the time.”

Sure, bigger apartments exist—but it’s not like you’re in a studio. And you’ve never mentioned feeling that way before. That bad feeling is starting to come back—like you’re not telling him something he needs to know. But is it worse to let you deal with it yourself until you’re ready to talk or to force it from you?

A few minutes later you return, a duffel of your own over your shoulder and full to bursting. 

“So I’m an idiot. My phone was literally in the pocket of my jeans on the floor.” You drop the bag as you bend down by the door to pull on your favorite slippers. “Oh—I think I forgot my charger, can you grab it? It’s by my bed.”

Spencer of course obliges, and is secretly pleased to be in your room again, in the light this time, so he can see better. It’s sweet. The pictures on the walls, the plants and the knickknacks and the sticky notes scrawled with messy reminders on every surface and the sweater hanging over the back of a chair—the one you’d been wearing at the cafe all those months ago—it all feels so you. He wonders why the two of you don’t spend more time here. 

He lets himself linger for only a minute before remembering his task, but as he reaches down to unplug your charger, whatever dopey smile he’d been wearing evaporates. The sheets have been stripped from your bed, and he can see why—there’s a striking stain of dried blood, and several surrounding dots, soaked into the mattress. Not much, but enough to make him feel horrendously guilty. He cringes, imagining what it must’ve been like to wake up all alone to nothing but your own blood. Poor girl. Of course he’d noticed some, last night when he was doing his best at cleaning you up, but it had been dark, and he was exhausted, and he hadn’t done enough. 

“Where’d your sheets go, baby?” He asks once back by the front door with his own bag on his shoulder, setting a gentle hand on your lower back and holding out your charger for you. You jump slightly, and he makes circles on your back, wishing there was something he could do to settle you. 

“Oh! They—they got ruined. I threw them out. It’s fine. I have others.”

So you didn’t have enough energy this morning to walk a few feet to your shower, but stripping your bed, getting dressed, and walking down to the trash chute at the end of the hall had been top of your priority list. 

You swallow as he undoes the locks and holds the door open for you, and pretend like you’re not doing surveillance to either side as you stand in the hallway, locking your door again like you can’t get out of here fast enough. 

Spencer casts a sidelong glance at you and wonders if you’re intentionally avoiding eye contact. He tries not to think like a profiler. He tries not to assign meaning to your actions, but he can’t help it. He can’t not notice. 

He can’t not worry. 

And he can’t not wonder what you’re not telling him. 

-

part nine

[veeluvss]

the profile

previously posted on wattpad

emily prentiss x daughter

1K words

i closed and locked the front door behind me. it had been a long day and i was exhausted but i wanted to check on y/n. she was homeschooled, due to her social anxiety and most days, she comes into work with me however today she stayed at home - not feeling like joining me.

"y/n," i called up the stairs. i slid off my shoes and jacket then headed up. "angel," i sung as i always did. i saw her bedroom door shut which wasn't usual so i knocked.

"you in baby?"

"i'm in," she replied quickly.

"can i come in?" i asked.

"no, i'll be out soon."

"baby," i said in an authoritative tone. we didn't have secrets.

"it's fine. mum i'll be out soon," she sighed. i wasn't going to argue with her.

"i'll be downstairs making dinner then. i'll make your favourite," i said softly, heading away from the door.

an hour later, y/n still wasn't down. this wasn't like her. at all. usually she stuck to her routine to a tee but it was twenty minutes past dinner time and she was no where to be seen. i headed back up and called her name again. this time i knocked and opened the door, she couldn't keep me out.

she was laying on her bed, her curtains and blind closed, pillow over her face and crying softly. i closed the door gently behind me, getting rid of the light.

y/n had a very unstable and traumatic childhood, resulting in a few issues developing as she grew older. when she came into my care, the team noticed autistic traits also so we got her diagnosed. i supported her where she needed it and she had the best therapist i could get her.

"it's so loud," she cried, sensing my presence. i walked over to her bed and sat down softly beside her. i didn't say anything, just removed the pillow from her face before laying down.

"come here, darling," i whispered. she rolled over and collapsed into my arms, crying. i held her tightly, rubbing up and down her back. i kissed her head and caressed her hair. it's all i could do. she just needed some love, some cuddles and gentle touches. she needed the reassurance.

"mama's got you," i said gently. "you're safe." she whimpered and clung to me.

half hour later, we were downstairs drinking coffee and heating up the dinner.

"did you get much work done today?" i asked her.

"no," she grumbled back, sighing.

"that's okay, you're ahead anyway," i smiled. she was a little smarty pants. reid had serious competition. it didn't surprise me, her dads IQ was as high, which is what kept him away from the authorities for so long. he outsmarted us far too many times and unfortunately dragged his poor daughter into it.

"you working tomorrow?" she asked, over her bowl.

"when am i not baby," i chuckled in reply. she nodded and shrugged. "you can come if you like. we might be called on a case but you can tag if you'd like."

it wasn't a secret that y/n got special treatment in the fbi but it wasn't surprising. they'd been a couple of times where she'd taken one look at our board and solved the riddles, the case, the lot. now reid was no longer with us, away on his top secret case, her work had been so beneficial.

"i think i will," she told me, smiling gently.

"alright. shall we have a movie night?" i asked, picking up the popcorn cornels.

"in your room?" she asked hopefully. i smiled and nodded.

"in my room."

the next morning, we walked into the bau together.  garcia stood outside the elevator, waiting for us with a wide smile.

"good morning my loves!" she cheered, raising her arms.

"good morning p," y/n said, nodding her head. she was feeling better this morning.

"mini prentiss is here today, it's a good day." penelope smiled and wrapped her arm around my daughter's shoulder.

"y/n is here?" we heard jj ask from the the hall. y/n turned and saw jj standing there with her arms open. she ran to jj , jumping in her arms for their signature cuddle. jj and y/n had clicked instantly when i came back from london. the first time jj met her was the tivon askari case, the morning after i rescued her. they became the bestest friends and it was amazing to see.

"your desk," i said to y/n, putting her bag on the desk opposite jj's. "you going to be okay whilst i'm in my office?" i asked her, running my hands over her hair.

"yes mum," she chuckled, looking up at me.

"good. you know where i am if you need me," i whispered. i leaned down and kissed her head. "i love you."

"i love you too."

a few hours later, we sat in the boardroom consulting on a case. y/n sat in the corner, looking at the pictures, listening to the facts.

"i think its a woman," she said.

"me too," tara agreed.

"the language used is far too maternal. she uses adverbs like 'willing' or 'hoping' which suggests to us she's giving an option. she probably is a woman with very little power resulting in low confidence, hence the low risk victims. we could be looking at a woman who is jealous of the attention the postitutes get from the men. she could be a house wife or even a secetary for a big boss. she'll be physically weak, hence the murder weapon being a car. it distances her from the kills as she doesn't believe she can do it up close and personal, again, she isn't confident enough to approach them. however, another reason it's most likely a woman is due ot the remorse she shows by dressing the body neatly, placing her in the chair. not only is it way of displaying the vicitm but it's also to make them comfortable, warm and give them a peaceful passing to the next life," y/n said from the corner of the room. everyone was looking at her bamboozled.

"have you just presented us with a profile like - before we even got to the crime scene?" Alvez asked. I smiled with pride - that's my girl.

"i just looked at the pictures and read the reports?" she shrugged. "its all speculation."

we all smiled and JJ cheered.

"wheels up guys, mini reid, you're joining us!" rossi said laughing. however, y/n frowned as she stood up.

"my name is y/n , not mini reid thank you very much."

[caffinedragon]

Silent Intimidation

A blurb inspired by the "you look like a third son" convo between Gale and Minthara.

TL;DR: Taking place after Minthara's rescue, R'yleh (durge) and crew are making their way back to camp in an exhausted but peaceful and contented silence when Minthara decides to break it with the "you look like a third son" conversation.

Not liking his peaceful and contented hand holding session with Astarion being disrupted by her insulting his favorite gabby wizard, he decides to remind the newcomer of whom-st she travels with and where she currently stands in the pecking order.

After letting Minthara have a glimpse into the Eldritch Horror side of his Great Old One+Bhaalspawn nature, he tells her what he is willing to do if she does that again, before starting to turn back to his hand holding session.

However Minthara makes a not so veiled threat about his food in Under common which causes him to reveal the reason why nobody touches his snacks at camp.

Full blurb under the cut.

The long and exhausting day R'yleh and his crew of traumatized misfits had, was finally coming to an end.

The eldritch horror bhaalspawn yawned like a cat, his abnormally long tongue rolling out over his teeth, as he walked down the road that led back to camp. His long black hair was tucked back behind one ear, revealing the many bone charms that hung from his chain cuff earring, each one a hand carved representation of his fellow tadpole suffers that he had the pleasure and honor of calling family.

The brisk wind that ran down the trail made his long pitch black fabric coat that covered his equally black but simple v-neck tunic, form fitting trousers and scuffed up leather working boots, flutter and snap in the breeze. His left hand was buried past the wrist in the pocket on the same side while his right causally kept pulling out bits of his custom trail snacks he had been munching on for the better part of an hour.

As his sapphire blue eyes casually scanned his surroundings he took note of his friends positions.

Karlach was on point, as per usual, softly humming some tune to herself only she knew as she occasional skipped or danced a little jig as she walked ahead. Astarion was walking next to him on his right, his red eyes staring off ahead of him but not quite seeing anything, an expression he had ever since they dealt with that blood obsessed drow in the tower who was very close to getting his glaive through their stomach. Gale had his nose buried in a book R'yleh had "borrowed" for him walking few steps behind Astarion and him, somehow still able to avoid every pot hole, puddle and stray root in a way only avid readers seem to manage. Behind him was their new member, the Paladin and Ex goblin leader Minthara, whom he took from the tower in order to pick her brain for clues to the Absolute plot he had built but whose details still eluded him.

To be honest, he hadn't cared for her much when they first met in the Goblin Camp and despite agreeing to take her on after apparently failing his attempt at killing her, his attitude towards her hadn't really changed that much. But, she could still hold some info that might trigger his lost memory and he had always wanted to get the insider's look at drow culture anyway so she was still of some use to him at present.

That didn't mean he trusted her of course, so he made sure to place his girls at the rear in case she tried anything.

Glancing back behind the marching and glowering woman, he saw his beloved girls Yuna and Luna, two displacer beats he was reunited with in the dungeon of the towers.

Yuna was the larger of the two, built like Karlach and just as strong, she was a war cat without equal. She was a stoic and protective creature who had saved his hide on more than one occasion and had taken quite the liking to Astarion, much to his surprise.

Luna was the smaller of the two, built wiry and agile like Astarion, she was the hunter, the one no one saw coming until her fangs were around their throats. She was a daddy's girl through and through who shared her father's more playful and eccentric nature and often stuck to him like glue unless she was given a task to complete.

Both of them dutifully brought up the rear, there advanced sight and hearing useful to keep any of the monsters and shadow creatures that hid in the dark from sneaking upon them.

The entire group walked in a peaceful but sleepy sort of silence as they leisurely walked down the trail that led to those sweet sweet bedrolls they were craving.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Astarion's eyes come back into focus again and glance up at him, a little bit of nervousness in his expression. R'yleh chose not to bring attention to it as he munched and walked, keeping his eyes scanning their surroundings just as much as his girls were.

After a couple of steps he saw Astarion slip around his back, discreet and quiet, and settle on his left side. His hand lifted up hesitantly a few times as if he wasn't sure what he was about to do would be well received. He patiently waited as he seemed to finally find whatever courage he was trying to gather and shyly rested his fingers on R'yleh's arm just above the part of his wrist that was still buried in the pocket of his coat.

He wasn't sure of what he was doing at first until the fingers started to slowly slide down. R'yleh smiled as he realized what he was doing, before removing his hand from his pocket and letting it hang at his side, his pale cream colored palm and black nailed fingers splayed open for easy access to the nervous vampire spawn.

Two steps later he felt his cool fingers lace through his own, the nerves that were plaguing his lover fading away as his hand wrapped around his.

Taking the time to swallow the morsel he had been consuming and wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he gently lifted up Astarion's hand and planted a soft kiss on his knuckles, earning him a soft and amused scoff from the smaller man.

Without missing a step he turned toward him and used his free hand to gentle hold his cheek, taking a few moments to gaze into his eyes and rub his thumb along his cheekbone before leaning down to give him a sweet and gentle kiss.

It only lasted a second or two since they were still walking but after he pulled away, he followed it up with one to his forehead before turning his eyes back to the road.

With a soft and contented sigh, Astarion snuggled into his side as he let go long enough to wrap his arm around his back before lacing their fingers back together again.

The peaceful silence fell back over the group again as R'yleh reveled in having the man that stole his heart smiling contentedly beneath his arm.

However, the soft moment only lasted a few minutes before the Paladin's deep raspy voice broke the calm.

A bit annoyed that his peace and quiet was disturbed for something that wasn't an immediate threat to their lives, he turned his ear slightly to hear what was so important.

His irritation began to turn into a cold rage as he realized she was not only disturbing his favorite chatty wizard from enjoying the book he so painstakingly stolen for him, but that she did it to straight up insult him and insinuate the man that could launch a fireball or turn a drider into a sheep was useless and worthless in her eyes.

And he could see that, despite the many times Astarion and Gale had butted heads in the past, that his rogue trickster wasn't to happy about her antics either.

So, with the silent communication style he had cultivated with the group exactly for days like today, he used his eyes to point in Karlach's direction before he silently let go of him and slowed his walking pace.

He waited until Gale made pace with him and silently asked him if he was okay with a tip of his head, seeing Gale's eyes dark and glazed as he clutched the book he had gotten to his chest like a child.

Gale glanced his way for only a second, but the anger and pain in his eyes was more than enough.

Without a word he nodded discreetly to the man before letting Gale out pace him.

Then, just as he got between him and Minthara, he snapped around and planted himself right in her path forcing her to stop in her tracks.

When she snapped her eyes up to look at him, he let his normally ever animated form go completely, unnaturally and unnervingly still. When he locked eyes with her, he let his face become cold, emotionless and alien in it's stillness, his eyes turning from deep ocean water, to darkest void as if his mother had replaced his eyes with pieces of the night sky. As he slowly tipped his head to the side, he used his hands to subtly open his coat just wide enough so she could see the four thick black tendrils that began sliding, twitching, and curling like an aboleth's tentacles out from his back.

Once he settled his unblinking gaze upon her, his towering form was no longer then eccentric chaos goblin warlock with more curiosity than sense she had met in the tower but the monstrous result of Bhaal crossing his bloodline with a Great Old One of who's essence he stole.

For several long breaths he stared her down, unflinching, unyielding, and unknowable. He watched her face go through several stages of emotion starting with annoyance and entitled anger that shifted slowly and subtly to surprise, confusion, and then barely concealed terror.

Once he could hear her heart begin to race and taster her fear upon the air he used his own telepathic form of communication to all but dominate her mind.

The voice that echoed into Minthara's was R'yleh voice, layered with the voices of everyone in their little band of inflicted, all talking at once in a cold and indifferent monotone like an Elder Brain of an Illithid colony.

"From now on, keep your degrading and insulting comments to yourself. If you do it again, we will roast your body on a spit and feed the left overs to my children."

As if on cue, Yuna and Luna appeared, growling low and threatening as they came around Minthara's sides, situating themselves so there was no escape.

"Are we understood?"

He watched as she opened her mouth to say something but was silenced when R'yleh smiled viciously, revealing newly formed teeth as sharp as a sharks.

"Are we understood, child of Loth?"

He saw her discreetly hide her shaking hands under her cloak before she begrudgingly nodded.

"Good. We trust there will be no further problems."

R'yleh then blinked, and as if it had never happened, was back to his ever animated, blue eyed, chaos goblin self.

After a groan and a stretch he started to turn on his heel to get back to his cozy cuddle walk session with Astarion when he heard her grumble in Undercommon under her breath in his direction.

"You better be careful what you eat from now on, Jaluk."

R'yleh could tell that she was under the belief that their little group wouldn't be able to understand her by the way she said it and he couldn't help but let out a short laugh.

She looked at him with that entitled annoyance again so he reached into his pocket and pulled out his special snacking bag. With a smirk he opened the bag wide enough that when he tipped the opening towards her, she would easily be able to see what was inside.

When she realized that what was in it was a mix of several highly poisonous and or deadly variants of mushrooms, berries and various not so poisonous edible plants, she let slip an expression that was part indignant anger and part fearful respect.

And then, just to put on a bit of a show, he plucked out a bit of the mushroom that was used to make drow poison specifically, popped into his mouth and ate it without so much as flinching.

Once he swallowed it with no ill effects he popped the bag back into his pocket, stuck his tongue out to blow a raspberry at her, and then walked back to Astarion, making a short stop to give Gale a quick hug as he passed him.

The rest of the walk back was just as peaceful and quiet as always.

[newpathwrites]

Another queer excerpt from my fics in honor of pride month!🏳️‍🌈

This excerpt is from A Marriage of Convenience, my first baby. It details the progression of a loving and physically intimate but non-sexual queerplatonic relationship between Din and his work partner who have bonded for mutual convenience.

In this passage, they discover that they have asexuality (and aromanticism) in common, though slightly different flavors, when Din asks why she was so terrified when she asked him about consummation rituals the day they took the vows.

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“Can I ask you why you were so terrified that day?  You know I would never hurt you… or expect something like that from you, marriage ritual or not… right?”  You hesitated to respond, and he shook his head guiltily.  “I’m sorry, that’s your business, I shouldn’t have asked…”

  “No, it’s alright, I’ll tell you,” you said, as you reached up to squeeze the hand still resting across your shoulder.  “But then you have to tell me why I’ve never seen you pursue anyone… or even visit a brothel… in the five years we’ve known each other.”  You winked, to make sure he knew you were joking.

  He did look a bit taken aback by your only half-serious demand but acquiesced with a soft chuckle.  “Okay, deal.  But there’s really very little to tell - I’m not sure it’s a fair trade of information.”

  You let out a long puff of air and began.  “Well, I’ve really never been one for relationships, never really liked the idea of getting married and having children.  But it was the norm in my village, and my family made it clear that becoming a mother and housewife would be expected.  So I tried to play the part, found a man I could tolerate…” Din chuckled at that.  “...but being in a romantic relationship never felt right to me.  It felt suffocating and unnatural, and acting like I was ‘in love’ was exhausting.  And then the sex issue came up - because that’s what most people in romantic relationships do, I guess.” 

You paused, collecting your thoughts.  “I didn’t hate it, but I didn’t particularly enjoy it, either, and I never really felt compelled to initiate it with him or anyone else.  Anyway, my lack of interest ended up being a big problem, and he started trying to make me feel guilty about it, and eventually that turned into blatant coercion.  By that point, I was traumatized and totally repulsed by the whole thing.  I broke it off with him, left my village, and happily lived the lone bounty hunter life for the next twenty years, until I met you…,” you smiled at him as you spoke the last few words.  “I guess the idea of broaching the sex topic again with anyone, even the person I trust most in the galaxy, was a little terrifying.”

  “I’m sorry, cyar’ika.  I wish you hadn’t gone through that.”  He thought for a moment.  “So you’ve never felt attracted to anyone that way?” he asked.  You nodded in the affirmative.  “Huh, we have that in common, then.”

  You tilted your head as if assessing him, “I suppose I’m not surprised.  It makes sense.  How did you come to realize it?”

  “I was a lot like you - I wasn’t really all that interested in having a relationship.  My Mandalorian brothers were eager to find romantic partners, have children, serve the tribe by expanding their clans.  That didn’t feel right to me at all.  It’s one of the reasons I became our beroya.  I could serve the tribe without all that… romantic nonsense…” You giggled at his summation but didn’t disagree.  “Sex was a weird thing for me, too.  It’s all anyone wanted.  It was supposed to be this amazing thing that made you forget all of your troubles.  After Mandalore fell, I had a series of unfortunate flings in an attempt to forget… and it only made me feel worse - it wasn’t really enjoyable at all, just awkward and uncomfortable.  Eventually I realized that I didn’t actually want, like, or need that kind of intimate relationship and resigned myself to a life alone on my ship... until the kid… and then you.”

  “You know, Din, sometimes I really do think we were meant to find each other.  I never imagined there was a man out there who would enjoy my company for so long without any promise of a romantic relationship… or expecting my clothes to come off.”

  He laughed, joking, “Well, you know me - the more clothes the better.”

----------------------------------------

I may post a couple other excerpts that demonstrate how the two do experience asexuality a bit differently. Din is meant to be sex indifferent here, very willing to try stuff if she was ever interested but totally cool with a sexless relationship, while Cyar'ika is sex averse but very open to more sensual forms of intimacy. Kissing becomes one of their favorite pastimes 😁

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

~Child Of The Storm~

Nikolai Lantsov x OC

Image by - @brokendreamtale2

Warnings- Bits of violence, ptsd, traumatic flashbacks throughout the chapters

taglist- @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

..............................................................................................................................

Ch-8~Birthdays and bondings~

A few days later she remembered that her birthday was coming around. The weather had become hotter, and the kefta she had with strands of fur on the edges of the collar and a thick fabric, was now replaced by one with a much thinner and comfortable material.

She remembered her birthday of last year when Inej and Jesper had tried to bake a cake for her, but had failed miserably.

Jesper was supposed to keep track of the time and take the cake out of the oven, but he'd forgotten to do so, and the oven had caught fire.

She smiled to herself as she remembered the day. She ran a hand over her hair as she woke up on the day of her birthday. She'd expected for the day to be the same as the others as no one had knowledge of the fact that it was Anaya's birthday. 

She just hoped to go by the halls at the end of the day, and have some kvas, along with the other grisha. Usually, Nadia and Marie would drag her along with them on the nights when they weren't too exhausted by the day.

Anaya went up to the mirror and took out her necklace that was hidden beneath her clothes. Her mother had made it for her, on her sixth birthday. It was an ocean coloured pendant with an aquamarine stone. It was oval shaped and covered with silver patterns on the sides. It was the only belonging she had from her mother.  Her mother was a skilled fabrikator and she had made the pendant for her because she knew how fond of the sea Anaya had been. 

She hated how she'd come to be afraid of the very thing she once loved. She remembered the time when she wished to see the true sea, set foot on a ship and travel faraway lands. But the experience hadn't turned out to be as jolly as she'd anticipated.

She finished up with her training and went to the dining halls during lunch.

"It's your birthday today isn't it, Nasarzareen?" Zoya came by and sat down to her left.

"It's Nasrazeen, and yes it is. How do you happen to have that information, Nakyazelensy?" She responded in a mocking tone, trying to hide how surprised she was.

Zoya rolled her eyes, not bothering to correct her. "I tend to remember details about my enemies" she responded with a boastful expression

"Huh, well, whatever" Anaya looked away with an uninterested look

"I know your face is just built that way, but what has gotten you in such a mood?" 

"Ugh you wouldn't believe the kinds of torture Baghra does. The other day, I couldn't summon a hurricane so she pushed me into the lake" remembering the events made the burning sensation return back to Anaya

"She pushed you into the lake?" Zoya asked with her eyebrows raised. It was one of the rare moments when Anaya could see her actually have interest in something she'd said.

"She pushed me into the lake. Worst part, it actually worked"

"Oh that's nothing, she once left me outside in a thunderstorm, just so I could learn to control the winds"

"She did that?" asked Anaya with her eyes widened

"Yeah she did, and kept herself from getting wet in the slightest bit. She just stood there, and watched me suffer" Zoya complained with a slightly angered expression

"At this point, I'm so sure that this woman has something personal against us"

"Yeah it's like, she enjoys watching us suffer" They expressed their anger and resentment,  agreeing with each other though they'd never admit it.

"Anyways why am I talking to you? Go away" Zoya spoke as the realization that she was agreeing with her worst rival hit her.

"Huh, why would I go away? You sat here" Anaya responded as she raised an eyebrow

"Fine" Zoya rolled her eyes as she went away to a farther seat.

    ................................................................

Anaya rested her head sideways on her wrist, as she read the book in front of her. She sat in the library at her usual place by the window. She was too indulged in the book to notice someone entering the library.

"Ah Anya, there you are. I've been looking all around for you" She heard a familiar voice from her right.  She looked up from her book to see Genya standing infront of her. Before she could respond, Genya took her hand and dragged her along with her.

"I need your help with something" she said in a hurried voice

"With what?" Anaya asked in confusion

"Just, you'll see" Genya took her outside of the Little Palace and all the way to the gardens. It took her a moment to realize that they were moving towards the Grand Palace.

"Genya why are you taking me to the Grand Palace!?" Anaya's eyes widened

"I've been working on something and I wanted to test it on you" They went inside the enormous gates of the grand palace.  The grand palace was certainly bigger than the little palace with bigger rooms, hallways and the surroundings were shinier. It was the residence to the royal family of the Lantsovs along with their guards and staff.

"So, you want to use me as an experiment?" Anaya raised an eyebrow

"In a way, but only to make you look better"

"Are you saying that I'm ugly?" She gasped dramatically

"No, of course not. But your hair could be better" Genya replied with a teasing grin

Anaya furrowed her eyebrows as she went along with Genya. As they passed along a chamber that looked somewhat like a study. Anaya slightly peered her head to get a view of the area.

The room had several small shelves that contained various books and documents. There was a table in the center and several maps and documents were spread on it. Infront of it, there was a boy standing with his back facing Anaya.

He was dressed in a plain white shirt with a tawny vest, and his sleeves were rolled up. He had golden hair that shone perfectly in the rays of sunlight. Before Anaya could take any further action, Genya grabbed her hand and dragged her along. "Come on, let's go"

Genya showed her to her chambers. She was a member of the Queen's personal staff so she'd acquired a personal chamber in the Grand Palace.

She gestured Anaya to sit infront of her vanity and opened a box filled with several different potion-like things and something wierd in a few small jars. Anaya looked at it with a disgusted look.

"Those are cells, human cells. They are used in tailoring faces" Genya said, as she noticed Anaya's expression."Don't worry, I'm not going to change your face. There's this new thing I have been working on. It can help change hair colours with lesser effort and more efficiently"

"So you want to use me as an experiment?"

"Precisely, yes"

"Fine, but if you ruin my glorious hair, I will haunt you in your dreams Genya"

"Yeah yeah, don't worry. I'll change it back to the way it was. Probably make it better" She spoke out the last part in a lower voice

Anaya allowed Genya to continue. The whole thing lasted for a while and even though she hated to admit, Genya actually made her look better.

In the evening, she went to the tannery to sit in silence and have some kvas. She went back to her chambers, some time after midnight to have some rest. She sat near her window and read a book for some time before finally going to bed.

   ......................................................................

She was looking all around her in her soaked clothes, in hopes of finding someone who was still breathing.

"You did this" her mother spoke from behind her

"We are so very disappointed in you, Anaya. You have failed us" her father joined her

"What use would you be of, when you couldn't even excel in your own abilities?" He continued

"I'm really sorry, I'm- I'm trying to improve I really am" Anaya responded helplessly

"You are a disgrace" her mother spat back at her

"You're a mistake"

"No please"

"You don't deserve to be here"

"Stop, please stop"

"You deserve to rot in those filthy slums"

"Useless brat"

They continued to yell. She felt like the world was closing up on her as her ears started ringing and her body began to tremble. She covered her ears with her hands. 

"Stop!" She screamed loudly

She was jolted awake as she looked around her with panicked breaths. Her throat felt like it had closed up and she'd lost the ability to breathe. Her heart began to beat rapidly, as if it was going to tear it's way out of her chest.

She looked around to realize that she was still in her chambers, surrounded by the dimly lit candles near her bed. Her breathing began to slow down. She had never been more thankful to be here than she was at the moment.

[takoichigo]

Haven't written in a while. Honestly it's hard to string thoughts together now without getting distracted halfway through or rambling on forever.

I watched an entire season of RuPaul's Drag Race today. I'd never seen an episode but since watching Dungeons and Drag Queens I have had my curiosity piqued. I don't typically watch reality competition shows (unless they're on Food Network) but I really liked it a lot. It also made me have some thoughts about my wardrobe, and about making things, and generally I feel a little inspired. It's much more creative than I expected and I love that. Also, I love shiny things and colors and I'm trying to learn a bit more grace and femininity.

Pain has been pretty bad lately if I'm honest. The last week or so have been very rough. I turned down company yesterday because I had a fairly traumatic releasing of the contents of my colon in the morning, and it took me all day to not hurt anymore. Hurting constantly is one of the worst things about this. Like the pain when I go to the bathroom is worse, but it goes away. When it just aches all day and I don't get relief from it, it's hard to even just watch something. It's exhausting. I'm pretty sure yesterday I was nearly totally blocked up. It hurt in weird places and I felt really nauseous beforehand. Nothing has really made me nauseous up til this point. I was a little this morning too, but overall it's been a little better today. I think I need to be really careful about eating when I take my meds, and I definitely don't think jumping in the tub is an option in the morning anymore, the heat made everything way worse.

Home health is coming tomorrow afternoon to get me started on physical therapy, which I am looking forward to a little bit. Anything to get me feeling normal again, please. Everything is so empty right now and I feel lonelier than I think I ever have. The endless shaking my legs do is really getting bothersome. It's like they don't want to hold me up anymore. Even when I'm laying down they shake. And my left knee needs to stop locking up. I've had some really bad scares this week from it doing that. It's also really fucking painful.

I'm still always tired and I really can't do much of anything for myself. It's a challenge to even walk through my apartment to get from my bed to the bathroom. I don't regret moving my bed to my living room; the bedroom in my apartment is too small to fit a queen mattress with anything else, but the extra walking distance is not great when your body is screaming at you and you can't walk very well.

I think I want to take up crocheting again, I could probably do that while laying down. I kinda want a new laptop too, or a tablet so I can maybe draw while lying on my stomach or something. Something not messy that doesn't require too much effort to set up or set aside.

Things are going to get better. I have to believe that they will. It's hard when I'm all alone. And I do have good friends that have been helping as much as they can. But not the ones I expected. I'm pretty sad about that. Haven't seen either of the people who volunteered to be my medical POA in at least a month. Not in person anyway. And one of them maybe hates me now. And that's making me really upset. I can't think about it or I cry. It's easy to make me cry anyway (shit I did it like 5 times watching Drag Race and twice in the bathroom today at least just from feeling bad and being afraid) but I don't really want to cry. I don't want to have these stupid hot flashes either but that's what we get for cooking my ovaries with a big radioactive beam I guess.

I was tired a little while ago and I thought if I wrote out my thoughts it'd help me relax a bit more so I could sleep, but now I'm just overly warm and sad. And my neighbor across the hall is being really loud. And I didn't get any of the stuff done today that I wanted to get done, except for taking a shower. And then I had a hot flash anyway and was drenched in sweat again a couple hours later.

I hate this all so much. I just want to feel normal again. I want to drive and see my friends and go do things and enjoy my life. Because this isn't life. It's just waiting, either for good news or for death. And while I have a lot of patience with humans, I don't have the most for feeling bad and being alone all the time.

Anyway. I'm gonna mindlessly scroll for a bit now and hope something bores me enough that I get at least a couple hours of sleep.

[sundaysundaes]

Started With A Kiss

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Actor AU, Smut, Fluff, Humor | NC-17 | 10K

Summary: Rookie actor, Lee Haechan, desperately wants to get the lead role in the highly anticipated upcoming TV drama. He’s sure he has what it takes to fill the part. Acting as a hero? No problem. Pretending to overcome his traumatic experience? Consider it done. A bed scene? Easy—wait, no. That might be a problem. But he should be fine as long as he gets to rehearse, right?

Warnings:  protected sex, oral sex, crude humor, swearing, literally 10k of sex with very little plot, a lot of playful banters between sassy!hyuck and equally sassy!Y/N

Wrote this for my love Kira @flopim​ who’s been having a tough time lately. I hope this will cheer you up bb! ❤️

“I want you to make love to me.”

Standing there, still dressed in your bright pink pajamas with your hair resembling a bird’s nest, you can only blink once, twice, and several times more because surely, your ears are playing tricks on you. There’s no way that your best friend, the cutely annoying and annoyingly cute, Lee Haechan—the one who’s been practically glued to your skin like a conjoined twin of yours for the last two years—is asking you to make love to him. 

Surely, this is not what you’d expected to see when you opened the door to your apartment, ready to bark at whoever it was who dared to disturb your beauty sleep (since it is seven in the morning on a Sunday), only to see him standing in his blue ripped jeans and black Michael Jackson shirt with his cheeks flushed, his bag hanging loosely on his shoulder, brown eyes desperately begging for your attention. 

And you’re most definitely sure that he’s not asking you to sleep with him when you still have drool on the corner of your mouth and a terrible morning breath (in your defense, you have brushed your teeth but that was, like, six hours ago).

But when seconds have passed and Haechan still looks like he badly needs to hear an answer, you have very little options but to ask, “You want me to do what to who now?”

Catching a sniff of your mighty dragon’s breath, he promptly takes a step back, scrunching his nose while frantically covering half of his face with the script he’s been holding. “Eew, God, what is that smell?” Ignoring your glare, he repeats his words, voice muffled by the papers. “I said, I want you to make love to me.”

“What—”

“Damn it, woman, just brush your teeth and let me in!”

When he’s stomping his feet while whining that loudly—loud enough for your fucking landlord to hear, along with everybody else in the building (including your cute neighbor, Jaehyun, oh dear God, no), he doesn’t give you any other choice but to invite him in, does he?

You step away from the door, flatly muttering, “Please, come in, why don’t you.” Haechan doesn’t waste any second waiting, making sure to run and stay as far away as possible from you so he won’t inhale the poisonous air that’s tainted with your breath again. 

You roll your eyes. Dramatic little shit. But just to be on the safe side, you make your way to the bathroom.

***

The scalding hot shower you just took was comforting but not enough to wash your entire drowsiness away. You’re in dire need of your caffeine intake. “Would you like some coffee, my king?” You ask between a yawn, hands finding their way to the coffee jar on your kitchen counter.

Haechan throws his bag to the floor, body sinking into the comfort of your couch. “With milk, please.”

"I’m kidding.”

“Well, I’m not.” He throws one of those cheeky grins that you adore—no, wait, you hate—as he settles his legs on your coffee table. “Less sugar but more milk. I’m still growing.”

“Growing what, your balls?” You pour him a cup of coffee as requested, yes, because to balance his demonic behavior, you have to act like the perfect angel that you are. “Since you don’t have any?”

“You mean, like your boyfriend?” Haechan retorts before he gasps dramatically, his palm going to his mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry, you don’t have a boyfriend.”

You hover above him from behind the couch, bringing two mugs filled with sizzling hot coffee. “Want to repeat that?” You tip your mug just a little bit until it nearly spills on his forehead.

Haechan winces, attempting to grin. “I’m sorry, I love you, please don’t ruin my face. It’s the only thing that’s good about me.”

“It surely is.”

“Yah, what does that mean?”

“Take it as a compliment.” 

Sitting next to him, you sip your coffee and curse silently when the liquid burns your tongue. “Okay, so what about this ‘make love to me’ thing you said earlier? Please tell me it’s just a figure of speech or something.”

“I wish.” He drags his legs away from the table so he can lay his cup down because apparently, he means business. “Okay, I know you’re gonna kill me after you hear—”

“After? I’m about to kill you now, actually.” You scoff. “Don’t you remember what we’ve agreed on? You cannot bother me when I’m still too sleepy to smack you in the head, Haechannie.”

“When did we ever—” He stops. “Why are you going to smack me in the head?” 

“‘Cause you’ll say something stupid.”

“Who says I’m gonna say something stupid?”

“You always say something stupid. You’re saying something stupid now!”

“It’s not stupid.” He sighs exasperatedly but when your flat, degrading stare comes into view, it morphs into a groan. “Well, not that stupid. I’ve thought about this—really thought about it—and I can’t find anyone else to do this but you since you’re the only girl I’m friends with. I mean, I can pick random girls, I suppose—you know how popular I am. They just can’t stop talking about me. My hair, my eyes—”

“—your tiny dick.”

“But I don’t want to break any girl’s heart by doing something that’s gonna make them feel like I’m just using them to get a job, you know? I know I’m hot but these good looks aren’t meant to trample people’s hearts.”

“And you don’t care how I’m gonna feel?”

He has the decency to act like he’s thinking about it, but then, “No, not really.”

“Thanks.”

“Look, I really need your help.” He takes it as further as holding your hand between his, puckering his pouty lips, and blinking his eyes in a way that’s cute enough to leave you in daze so you pretend like you’re about to vomit your insides to cover it up. 

Okay, so there’s one thing—one little thing that nobody knows—that you’re too ashamed to admit and that is the fact that you have a massive crush on this boy who sits in front of you with his socks unmatched. Well, no, not massive. It used to be massive during the first few weeks you knew him. How could you not? Haechan was so cute, you wanted to turn him into a doll so you could carry him around in your backpack and squish his cheeks whenever you feel like it. Sure, he’s not all jawlines and dimples like that neighbor of yours (Jung Jaehyun was probably sculpted by God himself ), but Haechan has his own charms. His devilish smirk, his loud, contagious laughter, his naughty eyebrow raise, and his lips—God, his beautiful plump lips, the way they look so pouty and soft. Honestly, you can write a whole essay about his attractive features (not that you haven’t already).

You knew you were crazy for him when the antics he did annoyed the hell out of his friends but to you, he was just plain adorable. And you realized you were pretty much fucked-up when Jeno said, “Fucking Lee Donghyuck said he forgot his wallet and robbed me this morning. Who the fuck orders a freakin’ wagyu steak for breakfast?!” and the only thing you could think of was how nice it was to go on a date with him and how your first kiss with him was going to be like (poor Jeno, though). 

It’s not that you love him or anything. It’s mostly physical, nothing more—at least for now anyway. It’s not your fault that he’s so fucking pretty that he ends up showing every now and then in your fantasy, doing indescribable naughty things that will definitely make Mark splash some holy water on your face if he knew what was going on in your head.

Fortunately, now that you’ve been friends with him for two years, that massive crush you had has turned into something normal, something you can easily hide. And can be forgotten even, whenever another cute guy—like Na Jaemin, for example—takes you out on a date or two. It’s easier to breathe these days.

“Hello? Are you there?” Haechan snaps his fingers, waking you up from your reverie. “What’s your answer? Do you want to make love to me or not?”

‘It’s easier to breathe these days?’ More like fucking kill me. 

“Can you stop saying that?” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You’re giving me headaches.” Or a heart attack, more accurately. “Assume I said yes. Don’t you think it’s gonna get a little weird between us?”

“What is so weird about it?” He throws his hands in the air, exhausted and impatient. “It’s just gonna be two friends, pretending to be in love with each other, hugging, kissing, touching, and having sweet, tender sex.” Realization falls upon him and you resist the urge to exhale loudly. “Yeah, okay, so it is a little weird, but it should be fine, right? It’s just acting. It’s not like you have any feelings for me, do you?”

If by feelings you mean picturing you naked in my head with your mouth sucking on my neck, then yeah, I do have feelings for you. Plenty of that. But on the outside, you say, “Eew, God, no.”

Haechan squints his eyes at your response. “Can’t say I’m not hurt with the way you said it, but eew, God, no to you too. Well, if that’s the case then I’m sure we’ll be fine,” he says, sipping his coffee, and retracts his mouth as soon as the flavor hits his tongue. “What the hell is this?! Did you spit on my coffee or something?”

You didn’t but for your amusement, you throw him a sly grin. “A little.” It’s satisfying to see him looking like he’s about to pass out. “I’m still worried how it’s gonna affect our friendship later on though.”

He simply shrugs. “Meh. We’re not really that close to begin with anyway.” He takes another sip of his coffee by accident and nearly vomits for real. “Fucking hell—take this shit out of my face.”

“I'm still not sure about this, Haechannie.”

“Look, I don’t know why it’s such a big deal to you, we’re just going to pretend! Acting!” He exclaims as if that was the most normal thing a friend could ask another friend. “And you’re gonna be acting out a love scene with someone as hot as me. Consider yourself lucky.”

“Consider yourself dead.”

“Damn it, my audition is in two days and I really want to get this role!” He’s whining, tugging at your hand like a baby as he practically throws himself at your feet, graveling for your mercy. “You’re the only one who can help me with this. How can I act properly if I don’t have enough experience to perform a freaking bed scene?!”

“I don’t think actors who have to play dead have enough experience of, you know, being dead.”

“Excellent point.” Haechan stares at you blankly, unimpressed. “Do you hear yourself when you talk?”

“Do you?”

A few seconds passed by in silence with the two of you exchanging sinister glares until he finally surrenders with a prominent pout on his face. “Fine, if you don’t want to.” Haechan exhales dramatically, his shoulders sagging and when you don’t respond, he sighs again only louder this time. “I guess, I have to force Mark to make out with me. Again.” He sneaks a glance to see your reaction. “And have my face slapped with a Bible. Again.”

You wince at the thought. “How did you force him, exactly?”

“Just…” He timidly scratches his nose. “Kinda attacked him in his sleep.”

You nod in understanding even when it’s the most idiotic thing you’ve ever heard. “Well, maybe he would’ve been fine with it if you had taken him out for a nice dinner before that.”

Haechan smiles a little at your words, and even a little glimpse of it is contagious enough to make your own spread wider on your face. Small chuckles resonate through the air and he playfully bumps his shoulder against yours, his palm resting on your knuckles.

“On a more serious note,” Haechan says, “I know that asking you to rehearse a bed scene with me is too much and way out of line. But I swear, I’m not gonna touch you if you’re so uncomfortable with it. Won’t even hold your hand, I promise.” Then he notices he’s still holding your hand from earlier. He drops it immediately, clearing his throat. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” It’s more than fine. His hand seems to fit yours in a way that nobody ever does but there’s no way you’re gonna tell him that. “So, we’re just gonna be practicing lines?”

“Exactly.” He rubs his nape, suddenly a bit bashful. “Well, I was hoping to at least kiss you—just to, you know, know how it’d feel like.”

“You’ve never kissed before?”

“I have, obviously.” He rolls his eyes, disgusted at your question. “I’m not a fucking virgin if that’s what you’re assuming.”

“Chill, don’t get your panties in a twist. Nah, I know you’re not a virgin from how many times you’ve had sex with yourself.”

“Hey!” 

“But then, why do you need to practice? Can’t you just go straight to your castmates, and kiss the bejeezus out of them?”

Donghyuck runs a hand through his face. “It’s… I’ve never done it for a role,” he professes, faint blush blooming on his cheeks, “And the scene is supposed to be intimate and I’ve never… You know…”

You gesture at him to clarify more with your hands. “You’ve never…?”

“You know…” The color on his face turns brighter. “T-the thing.”

“What thing? Never made-out in public? Never had sex outdoor?” You act clueless just because you’re liking his reaction. “Never had a finger stuck in your ass? What? Please do enlighten me.”

“I’ve never been in love, you witch!” Haechan is adorable when he’s fuming. Nostrils blaring, eyebrows knitting together in an angry frown, scarlet cheeks all puffed out. He looks like a terribly pissed Pomeranian.

Man, if I could just take a picture. “Oh, okay. So have you had your finger stuck in your ass?”

“I swear to God—”

“Kidding. I know you have.” But even when Haechan is nearly ripping your cheeks apart from your face, your giggles are never-ending. “So, you’re nervous?” You snort, raising an eyebrow. “You, the obnoxious, desperate-for-attention Lee Haechan, are nervous?”

“Will you help me out or not?!”

You pretend like you’re contemplating about it when truth is, every part of your body and mind is just screaming what the heck are you waiting for? He’s asking you to rehearse a bed scene—a. bed. scene! And he said he wanted to kiss you, for God’s sake! So, really, what else is there to say but “Okay.”

Haechan widens his eyes. “Okay?”

“Okay.” You try your best to appear nonchalant. “But you’ll owe me a favor. A huge one.”

“Anything,” he instantly agrees, “As long as I’m not dead, you have my words.”

You’re not yet sure what you’re planning to ask him but seeing his enthusiasm, you know it’s going to be good. “Great. So, umm, do you want to do it now or…?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“Here?”

“Wherever you want.”

“Man, you’re giving me too much power. I should’ve agreed to this way sooner.” You can practically feel your face splitting in half from how wide you’re grinning. “My room, then? I mean, a bed scene requires… a bed, right?”

Haechan laughs and even after two years, it still sounds like your most favorite thing in the world. “No, it doesn’t necessarily require a bed but sure.” He jumps out from the couch, taking you by the hand, and only by that, you can already feel your heart thumping a tad faster. But the second he walks into your room, he makes a face. “Why does it smell like something died in here?”

“Because something did die. Your dignity.”

The tickling fight doesn’t occur very often between you and Lee Haechan but once it starts, it means war.

***

“Okay, so…” Haechan hands you the script, already opened to show you a page filled with dialogues and short narratives. He scoots closer on the bed, his knee a few inches away from grazing yours as they dangle from the edge. “Just from the top of the page, here.” He points with his finger and you do a quick scan, trying to get a picture of the intimate scene you’re going to do. “So, a quick summary. Your character, Aeri, has been in love with my character, Donghyun. In the earlier scene, you’ve confessed your love to me but I rejected you because we’ve been friends for so long and I didn’t want to ruin what we have. But then, later on, some things happened and I ended up catching feelings for you and this is the part where I’m gonna be telling you how I really feel and then we start kissing and—”

“Then we have sex,” you utter in dismay, but butterflies are erupting from your stomach due to the anticipation.

“No,” Haechan corrects you, “We make love.”

“Is there any difference?”

“There are more feelings involved, not just out of sheer passion. It’s slower. Tender. Intimate.” And when he notices you raising a questioning brow at him, he sighs. “That thing you did with Jaemin? Fucking like bunnies? The opposite of that.”

You mock him by imitating his sigh exaggeratedly and receiving a flick on the nose in return. “Is it just me or is the script pretty lousy?”

He nods. “But they’ll pay you good money for this.”

“I thought the reason you became an actor was to create art not money.”

“When I’m rich, maybe. Right now, I gotta pay for my rent. And apparently, Jeno keeps chasing my ass, forcing me to pay him back. It was just a wagyu steak for fuck’s sake.” He grumbles to himself, momentarily distracted. “Anyway,” he cracks his neck, “I’ve memorized my lines. Wanna give it a go?”

“Okay, let’s try. I guess I’ll be fine if it’s just kissing. Even if it’s with you.” When in reality you’re only agreeing to this because it’s with him.

Haechan’s eyes gleam brighter, ears practically perking up like an excited puppy. “Really?”

“You’re that excited at the thought of kissing me?” You play smug but you could practically hear your heartbeat blasting through your ears. “What else have you been thinking about me?”

“I’m not excited at the thought of kissing you, dumbass,” he spits back, the spark in his eyes vanishes in an instant. “I’m excited that finally I can practice kissing scenes with someone who’s actually willing to do it, and not, you know, like with the back of my hand or something.”

“You…” Failing to hold back a grin, you burst out laughing. “You made out with your hand?”

It’s funny that even when his skin is golden as if it was kissed by the sun, it still shows vividly on his face whenever he blushes. “I didn’t mean it literally—”

“I can’t believe you made out with your hand.”

“Would you just—” He nearly suffocates you with your pillow but you quickly retaliate by kicking him in the stomach.

Tears are prickling at the corner of your eyes. “Man, that mental image of yours making out with your hand will live in my mind rent-free for as long as I live.” When you still can’t stop laughing, Haechan is practically baring his teeth. “Okay, I’m sorry. Let’s get this going. If it gets too uncomfortable for me, I’ll stop.”

“Of course.” 

“At any time I want.”

“Your call.” He nods in agreement with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen him do; it almost doesn’t seem like him. 

“Good,” you say. “Now, I’ve never acted once in my life so if you laugh at me, I will sneak into your room at night and pour hot coffee on your computer.”

There’s fear fleeting through his eyes but he gives another nod. “Deal.”

“All right…” You take a deep breath, willing your heart to stop hammering against your ribcages, and for once, focus more on the script instead of the shape of his pretty, pretty mouth. “What are you doing here?” You follow the script, voice a little bit shaky as you’re still embarrassed with everything you’re doing. Haechan closes his eyes and you’re about to throw a joke to tease him about actor Haechan coming alive but when he opens them and gazes at you, you sit still, frozen.

“I wanted to see you,” he says, voice so delicate, it startles you. He’s so serious about this that you don’t find the strength within you to tease him like how you usually do. Somehow, the little gestures he makes, the changes in his expression alter the air along with the tension in the room. Suddenly, it feels like you’re standing next to him under the spotlight, hundreds of pairs of eyes following your every movement. 

“It’s—” You swallow your breath, tongue lays heavy in your mouth. “It's pouring outside, why are you—”

“I love you,” he vocalizes, his eyes gentle and heartbroken. His voice suddenly sounds a pitch lower, reverberating through the air until it sends goosebumps to the tiny hairs on your nape. He waits for your reply and you have to blink twice to slap yourself back to reality.

“W-what?”

“I’m sorry it took me this long to realize, but I do. I’m in love with you, hopelessly so.” He reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. Though he has pretty hands, his fingertips are not as soft as you had imagined them to be, but they feel better, feel real. His warmth is unfamiliar to your skin but it feels more pleasant than anything that ever touches you. “Maybe you’re unaware of this, but it kills me to know that I’ve hurt you because I simply couldn’t be brave enough to accept my feelings. The reason why I didn’t want us to be together was because I didn’t want to ruin what we have, not knowing that we could be something more.”

Haechan’s lines fit your situation so much that you wish he wasn’t acting. It’s amazing how he’s changing into an entirely different persona and yet, it feels so natural as if he has been that person all along. Your breathing gets heavier as you take a brief look at the script, searching for your lines. “This feels unreal…”

“Do you still love me?” Haechan lifts your face by the chin, his touch is paper-thin. 

You wet your lips, head swirling. “But Donghyun—”

“Do you still love me?” He repeats, emphasizing with his tone. His eyes are peering into yours and you wonder maybe the quote eyes deeper than the sea refers to his gaze. “Or is it too late for me?” His thumb drifts to your lip, caressing your bottom one, your lip balm sticking to his skin. 

“I do,” you reply. He’s so pretty. You’ve never taken a glance longer than a few seconds at his close-up face, but now that you’re in this close proximity, you can finally witness the two tiny moles on his cheek, the beautiful shape of his dark eyes, the delicate curve of his lips… “I do love you, Donghyuck.”

A few seconds of silence hangs in the air when Haechan stops, his eyebrows furrowing. “Umm—it’s Donghyun, actually.”

Fuck! “Right!” You nearly leap out of your bed, face aflame. “Donghyun! Of course! I don’t know why I said that. Donghyuck is your name, I know that—” Fuck, fuck, fuck, just fucking kill me. “Sorry, umm—nervous.”

Fortunately for you, Haechan buys your bluff. “Rookie mistake,” he chuckles and you exaggeratedly roll your eyes to play along. “Okay, let’s start over. Do you still love me?”

“I do,” you respond too rigidly, making him glance away so he won’t break into laughter. “I do love you, Donghyun. Dong-Hyun.”

“Good,” he improvises, as it’s not written in the script. He has a tiny smile on his face and you like to think that it’s just him doing a terrible job at hiding his amusement. But when he swats your bangs out of your eyes, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, he seems like he’s seeing the most beautiful thing he has ever seen in his whole life. The adoration in his eyes, his loving gaze—they are so vivid, they nearly consume you. “Because I don’t think I can resist this any longer…”

You’re lost in his eyes, lost in his touch, lost in his warmth. It’s until Haechan nudges his head slightly, indicating you to wake up, you’ve got a line to say, that you jolt, eyes hurriedly going down to the script, seeking your lines. “Umm—“ You flinch. You sound so jittery, it’s terrible. “R-resist what…?”

But Haechan doesn’t pay a mind that you just stuttered from saying two words. He doesn’t ask you to start over. Instead, he presses his forehead against yours, his breath mingling in the air and you can taste the scent of sandalwood and summer. Combined with his soft breathing, you’re almost stuck in a haze, just reeling in the feeling of how this man is now closer to you than he has ever been in the past two years and it’s better than anything you’ve ever imagined.

“Resist this,” he whispers and before you can look down to check whether you have more lines to say, Haechan dips his head, his lips brushing against yours, ever so faintly at first but when you gasp, he presses harder, framing your cheeks with both hands before he moves one down to your waist. Unlike his fingertips, his lips are soft—softer than silk or the cotton candy he once bought you. But it’s not the way they feel or the way he tastes that distract you the most. It’s the way he moves them, parting his lips slightly so he can blend with yours, your lower lip fits perfectly between his plump ones. It’s the way he sighs, so contentedly, as if kissing you was everything he ever wanted.

You close your eyes, hands reaching up to his collar, wanting to feel him more, wanting to touch him—

Haechan breaks away, placing both hands on your shoulders. “How was it?”

You’ve never had someone splash cold water on your face but you figure it might feel something like this. Your voice grows hoarse when you speak. “How was what?”

“The kiss!” Haechan’s eyes are filled with concern, analyzing your expression. “Was it romantic enough? Tender enough? Did it properly convey the desperation and longing my character feels for yours?”

You knew this was a bad idea. You fucking knew it. So, why are you still hurt when he acts like he feels exactly nothing by that kiss? This is just an acting lesson for him. You should have been prepared. 

“It’s good,” you answer, averting your gaze and hiding your eyes behind your bangs. Your heart is still running a thousand miles an hour but somehow, it doesn’t feel as pleasant as before. “So, next scene—”

“Wait, are you okay?” Haechan asks, bending slightly to catch a glimpse of your face. “Was it too much? Do you want to stop?”

Truth is, you’re conflicted. You’re going to catch feelings—you most likely already are. But Haechan only treats you as a friend and nothing more, and this is the only chance you have to be this close to him. The temptation of continuing the kiss, to just hold him close for one more time, stands stronger than anything else so you say, “No. I promised you I’d help.”

He’s still unsure, eyes glinting in concern. “It’s okay if you want to stop, I—”

“Let’s just do the damn scene, Donghyuck.”

Haechan freezes on his seat, eyes searching yours as you now have the bravery to look at his face. Knowing you came on too strong, you try to ease it off with a smile. “I’m fine, don’t worry. It’s just my first time doing this—acting, I mean. Can we try again?”

He spends another few seconds trying to decipher the true meaning behind your smile but eventually nods his head at your command. He drags his finger back to the script. “Then, umm… Let’s start from here?”

You don’t even look at the page when you give affirmation. “Go.”

Haechan takes a moment to prepare himself and when your eyes meet each other again, he’s a different person once more. “The reason why I didn’t want us to be together was because I didn’t want to ruin what we have, not knowing that we could be something more.” His voice is so soothing, you almost forget that deep down you’re immensely upset knowing that the kiss didn’t have the same effects on him.

This time, when he frames your face with his palm, you lean into his touch, eyes never leaving his. “This feels unreal,” you say and for a second—just for a split second—you notice Haechan breaking out of character, surprised by the gentle expression on your face. Because you’re not acting out his script, you’re acting out on your feelings. It’s your only chance to be honest with him without forcing him to respond. So you pour all these feelings you have for him out in the open—ones that started from a mere physical attraction to something more as his presence grew bigger in your life, you’re acting out each and every one of them. 

“Do…” He inhales sharply, trying to focus. “Do you still love me?” He’s doing the same thing as before, placing his thumb and index finger on your chin but before he can say his lines, you see how his eyes fall on your lips.

And you kiss him. You kiss him with everything you have, hands going to his face, fingers slipping between his strands, and Haechan gasps against your mouth, his fingers curling around your wrist. You know he’s about to push you away so you quickly murmur, “I do,” against his lips, breath stuttering, “I do love you.”

When you take his bottom lip between yours, teeth grazing against his supple skin, Haechan lets out an involuntary moan at the back of his throat. The butterflies in your stomach come alive, pumping a rush of adrenaline through your veins and suddenly, you’re brave enough to glide your tongue across his lip. His hold tightens around your wrist but instead of pushing you away, he tugs you closer and you fall into his chest, hands breaking free from his grip to wind around his neck. Your fingertips are scraping against his nape before they move upward to yank at the roots of his hair. “Fuck,” he breathes out, almost inaudibly, as if he didn’t mean to let the word slip from his mouth and it makes your heart jumps straight out of your chest. The second he responds properly, Haechan kisses like fire, all passion and urgency, and you really don’t mind being consumed by his flames.

His hands are on your waist, pulling you closer and closer until you’re almost sitting on his lap before he jolts awake, pushing you away so abruptly, you almost fall from the bed.

“I’m—We—” he stammers, looking everywhere but your eyes. His cheeks are flushed, his lips bruised and red from your kisses. “I think we should—I gotta go—“

He stands up from the bed like the sheets are catching on fire, picking his script from the floor and gathering all his belongings at once before he runs toward the door. He turns on his heels, wanting to say something to fix the goddamn situation, but when his eyes land on yours, his words vanish without a trace. 

“I—I’ll call you later,” he finally says and doesn’t wait for your response. The front door closes with a thud.

And then silence comes to answer.

What just happened? 

Your heart is thundering inside your chest, you’re starting to feel nauseous. What have I done? You keep asking over and over. You thought everything was going to be fine. He responded to your kiss earlier, didn’t he? You were sure you didn’t imagine the whole thing. But now he’s gone and you’re not sure whether he’s gonna come back as the same Haechan—the old, bratty but caring Lee Haechan. The one who snickers loudly when you fall face-first on the ground but always steals secret glances at you to make sure you're not hurt. The one who makes jokes about your love life but never forgets to show up at your apartment with a thoughtful gift right at the minute you turn a year older. 

Things are not just gonna get awkward, they’re ruined.

When nearly half an hour has passed by and you’re still left alone in your apartment with no signs of him coming back, you’re about to go insane. You can’t stay still, walking back and forth your living room with the tip of your thumb between your teeth.

Should I chase after him and explain that it was just me trying to improvise? You hesitate with your hand lingering on the doorknob. But with your knees nearly giving up under your weight, you decide to stay put. It will probably just gonna make it worse. He’ll see through my lies, he always does.

You’re straying away to the kitchen, hands placed on the counter. You can feel your head spinning, stomach somersaulting. Damn it, why did I have to do that?! Why couldn’t I just— 

The front door slams opened and Haechan barges in with his hair messy, ruffled by the wind, and his bangs sticking to his temple. Stunned, you stand still on your ground. Your heart is the only one that’s moving beyond control. His eyes scan your apartment until they land on yours and for an instant, everything seems to fade away.

“Fuck it,” he says, dropping his bag to the ground and making his way towards you in such a hurry, he nearly trips over his feet. “You’re not that good of an actor to be faking it.” Before you have the chance to even take a breath, Haechan’s lips are smashing against yours. 

“Hae—” Haechan’s kiss is insane. So forceful that you can barely keep up, taking every bit of air directly from your lungs. He has you backed against the kitchen counter, the marbled edge digging into your skin. His hands frame your face, sliding against your cheek until they cup the backsides of your neck, his thumbs resting against your ears. You curl your fingers around his wrist, gasping, “Wait—”

He pulls away, lifting your face so you can’t bring your gaze anywhere else. “You like me?” His eyes are just as intense, begging for answers. “Please tell me I’m not imagining this.”

But behind that passion, his confidence is wavering. You can tell by his quivering breath, the little tremble running through his fingertips, and at that, you’re drowning in relief. You don’t think he’s that good of an actor to be faking this too. 

“I do,” you admit, heart pounding so loudly that you can barely hear your own voice. “I like—”

His mouth is on yours again and it feels like he’s kissing you in a hundred different places at once. “Jesus Christ, why have you kept quiet about this for so long?” he says, tasting your breath and skin at the same time. “Two fucking years. We wasted two fucking years.”

The words this isn’t happening endlessly run through your head but all your senses scream that Haechan is really here, in your arms, his nails clawing against your shirt and there’s nothing left you want from this world.

When you reciprocate to him properly, your palms sliding up his chest, over his shoulder, until your arms circle his neck, Haechan sighs in content. His kisses grow slower—more relaxed—but deeper, his tongue peeking out shyly at first but not for long. He still tastes faintly like the coffee you made and something else entirely different. Something pleasant that’s just exactly how you’ve fantasized him to be, if not more.

He pulls away to catch his breath with his eyes still focusing on your lips, thumb rubbing your lower one. “Does this feel weird to you?” He whispers, his temple pressing against yours.

You’re intoxicated by his sweet scent though you’re not sure whether it’s the smell of his shampoo, his cologne, or just him altogether. “No,” and as soon as the word comes out, his lips are chasing after yours once more.

“Good, ‘cause I don’t think I can stop.” He’s breathing heavily against your mouth as you are against his. With his fingers twisted in your hair, making a messy ponytail out of it, Haechan peppers open-mouthed kisses on your neck, tongue pressing against your pulsating vein and a whimper escapes your mouth.

Your dreams, your fantasies—they all fall pale in comparison to reality. When you vocalize his name, it almost sounds like a plead and Haechan slants his mouth back on yours again, giving you another taste as he is not satisfied with yours just yet. “Your lips taste amazing,” he breathes out and it’s so quiet, it seems like he’s intending to say the words in his head and not with his mouth. But as his words fall on your ears, they send tingles down your spine.

“So do yours,” you reply, attempting to make him blush in return but if he does, he doesn’t show much. “Never pegged you as a man who wears lip balm.”

You can feel his smirk directly with your skin. “I’m not wearing any.”

“You’re not?” You lightly giggle, swiping your tongue across his lower lip. “Then your lips do taste amazing.”

Haechan’s hand is slipping underneath your shirt, fingers hovering above your bra. “Guess there are still a lot of things you don’t know about me, huh?”

“I’ve got a hunch you’re about to teach me?”

“Only if you’re eager to learn.”

The kiss becomes heavier that you’re lost for words, entirely consumed by his passion, until he breaks away, muttering, “Off, off, off, off, off,” as he struggles to tear the fabric away from your body. You titter at his desperation, raising both hands to help him out of his misery. The second it’s off, he lifts you by the waist and places you down on the counter. 

“I’m amazed you could lift me,” you coo, admiring the sight of his lean stomach as he pulls his shirt over his head. His silver necklace hangs loosely around his neck and you hook a finger around it to yank him back to you.

He doesn’t seem to be able to detach his lips from yours for too long, especially when you keep sneaking glances at his. So when he speaks again, his every word is painted directly to your skin. “It wasn’t easy.” He settles between your thighs, mouth latching against your collarbone. “You weigh a ton.”

“Yeah?” You bite your lip, holding back a moan as he sucks bruises on your neck, the edge of his fingers trailing over the seam of your bra. “Then you must be so strong.”

“I am, haven’t you noticed?” Haechan pulls away just to showcase a mischievous grin. “I work out, you know.”

You blurt out laughing. It’s not solely because of the mental image of Lee Haechan—a full-time gamer, Lee Haechan—doing push-ups seems so funny to you. It’s more about the way he wiggles his eyebrow, trying to be sexy about it when you know he’s the weakest one in your group. Flustered at your reaction, he flicks your nose. “What is so funny?”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize though it doesn’t seem that much sincere with the way you’re still giggling at him. “It’s just that an hour ago we were two friends making fun of each other and now we’re here, in this position. I don’t know, it just feels surreal to me.”

An adorable pout blooms on his face. “I thought you said this didn’t feel weird.”

“No, it’s perfect. I want this.” You wrap the end of his necklace twice around your index finger. “I want you. It’s just… I’ve been imagining this to happen for such a long time and now that it’s happening, I’m feeling a lot of things at once.” You place a reassuring kiss on his temple. “I’m nervous.” This time landing one on his cheek. “I’m relieved.” When your lips hover above his, you notice him parting his own slightly in anticipation. “And it feels so good, I don’t ever want to stop. Even if that means we can’t go back to being friends.”

Haechan can’t form a response as you don’t let him, your mouth swallowing the tiny moans he emits. “We’ll talk about that later,” he hastily replies, “I still haven’t had enough of you yet.”

Without warning, he lifts you off the counter, making you yelp and wrap your legs around his waist for support. “Haechannie!” With you holding onto him, he takes a step forward, ignoring your call. “Where are you taking me—"

“Wait, no, back pain, back pain.” Both of you nearly tumble down to the ground from how he’s harshly placing you back to your feet, wincing at the ache erupting from the strained muscles in his spine. He’s groaning in pain, massaging his back with both hands. “Fuck, you’re really heavy!”

“That’s no way to talk to a lady.” You throw your slipper at him, missing his head just a few inches, laughing all the way. “What exactly were you trying to do?”

“I was trying to move us to the couch.”

“All you had to do was ask.”

“I was trying to be sexy.” He juts out his lower lip, and it takes all control of your body to not squeeze his cheeks from how adorable he looks.

“Honey, you are sexy, believe me, but you’re also weak as fuck. Consider hitting the gym for real next time and then carry me.”

“Shut up,” he sighs, holding out a hand for you to take. “To the couch, please? And maybe a massage after this ‘cause my back is killing me.”

Shaking your head in amusement, you take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his and drag him over to the couch. He’s in the middle of asking, “Do you want me to be on top or—” when you push him down and straddle his lap without warning, legs tangling around his hips. “Oh, okay.”

You run a hand through his hair, pushing them back so you can witness the glow in his eyes. “You look sexier with your hair pushed back.” You love the way he stares at you, eyes half-lidded painted with lust and desire. And combined with your commentary, he now has his cheek tinted with red. “Do you have a problem with me being on top?”

His eyes quickly run down to the place where your denim shorts are riding up your thighs, your zipper pressing against his groin. With a noticeable gulp, he stutters out, “N-no.”

You smile, patting his cheek. “Good.”

The kiss starts slow as you focus more on moving your hands down his body. Haechan shivers a little when your palm is pressing against his bare chest, sliding down to his navel. When you pull back, raising a questioning brow at his reaction, he bashfully says, “Your hand’s cold,” looking like a nervous little boy who’s a stark contrast to how he usually behaves.

He’s so cute.

“Well, I know a way to warm you up.” You smirk, almost cringing when you hear your own words but Haechan seems to like it.

“Oooh,” he coos, grinning against your lips. “Are you offering what I think you’re offering?”

“I don’t know.” You kiss your way down from his jawline to his chest, pushing yourself off his lap so you can kneel on the floor, your fingers unbuckling his belt. “What do you think I’m offering?”

Haechan’s eyes are glowing with anticipation. He curves his fingers around the edge of his seat, wetting his lip nervously when you pull his zipper down. You release him from his boxer, stroking him to life and he sinks his nails further into the couch. A train of expletives breaks free from his mouth but he’s so quiet, you can only hear his ragged breathing.

But by the time you run your thumb over his slit, your hot breath hitting his sensitive skin, Haechan melts into a whimpering mess. “Please don’t tease,” he begs.

“I haven’t even started, Haechannie.” And he looks like he’s about to say something but it only turns into a mewl when you press a kiss to his tip. “You’re so cute,” you comment, and he shivers when the vibration of your voice meets his skin. 

Haechan tries to act composed. “Of course I’m cute, it’s—” 

You cut his line short by darting out your tongue, giving kitten licks at the side, smiling satisfyingly when his eyes meet yours. As you give him a little suck around his tip, he throws his head back, his lower lip between his teeth. “I—I said don’t tease.”

“I’m not teasing you.” But you are. How can you not? He looks so fucking cute. You’ve never really enjoyed giving head before, especially when your opponent gets rough and ends up pushing too deep until you gag. But with Haechan, you feel like you can do this for hours. He’s so nervous and shy, doesn’t even dare to place his hand on your hair, and his reaction to every bit of your action is honest even when his words aren’t. 

“Here.” You take one of his hands, moving it to your head. “You can use me as much as you want.”

“Use—” he crumbles at your choice of words. When you suddenly envelop him with your mouth, moving from the tip to the base in one quick motion, Haechan instinctively grabs a handful of your hair, flinching. “Goddamn, why are you so fucking hot?”

You giggle, sliding his cock out of your mouth with an obscene pop. “Thanks.”

“No, I mean your mouth. It’s so fucking warm.”

“So, you’re saying,” you dip your tongue into his slit, eyes seductively peering into his. “I’m not hot?”

“You’re—Fuck, fuck—” Haechan seethes, hips buckling when you bob your head down again, tongue pressing against his veins. Shivers run through his fingertips when he slips them between your locks, pushing your fringe back to have a good look at your face. You catch a glimpse of him, his lips unconsciously moving to form words that you can’t hear. So pretty, he seems to say, and the thought of it makes your stomach lurch in delight. Taking him completely in your mouth, you hollow your cheeks, swallowing around him. He tightens his hold around your hair, cheeks flushed and you expect him to hold you in place so he can thrust against your mouth but what he does is pull you away. “Stop, stop, stop, stop.”

Wiping a string of saliva away with the back of your hand, you ask with a frown. “Something’s wrong?”

Haechan hides his reddening face behind his fingers, quietly answering, “I was about to come.”

You hold back a grin. With a nonchalant hum, you dip your head down again, this time engulfing him until he hits the back of your throat.

“Jesus Christ.” His sanity is deteriorating, he can feel it.

“Don’t bring Lord’s name when I have your dick in my mouth, Haechannie. Mark would kill you if he knew.”

“Fuck Mark. Come here.” He rushes forward, forcibly pulling you up with both hands clamping your arms. When you follow his order, settling back down on top of his lap, he confesses with his lips grazing against the shell of your ear. “I really won’t last long if you keep doing that.”

Despite your previous teasing and confidence, you squirm inside his arms, feeling warmth spreading from your chest to your cheek. “So I have these effects on you?”

He’s almost growling when he retorts, “You don’t even know.” Haechan pushes your bra strap until it falls off your shoulder, teeth marking your supple skin until you hiss in both pain and pleasure. He presses a softer kiss to soothe away the bruise. “Sorry, I… You’re gonna need to cover it up tomorrow.”

“It’s fine.” You stroke his cheek, tracing the tiny mole on his jawline. “Seems like you have a biting kink.”

He sheepishly chuckles, “I don’t know. But if you let me, I’d love to do that again.” 

Something about him saying it in the most sincere way possible, almost too formal even, makes you crave more for him and everything he does. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want with me, Lee Donghyuck.”

Haechan swallows hard, barely has the bravery to look at you in the face after hearing your words and his real name tumbling out of your mouth. His fingers are now on the hem of your shorts, trembling a little bit. “Umm—may I?”

Helping him further, you stand on your knees, unclasping your bra first to his surprise and pulling your denim shorts and panties down to your thighs. Haechan watches with his eyes wide open, mouth parted in awe as he commits every bit of your curve and movement into memory. It feels so thrilling to be this wanted, to be ravished by his eyes, until you begin to struggle to push your clothing away from your legs.

“Need some help?” He asks, lips pursing as he tries to hide a grin. 

You exhale loudly, detaching yourself from him. “Let me just—” You jump off his lap, standing back with your feet on the ground, and kicking the clothing away with annoyance—why in the world did you have to wear shorts this tight—and slap him in the chest when he’s chuckling at the sight. 

“Maybe you should stop trying to be sexy too,” Haechan snickers.

“Shut up.” You crawl back into his lap. “Go back to staring dumbly at me like before. I’m naked.”

“I wasn’t staring like tha—oh,” he inhales sharply as you grind your heat against his cock, amazed at how warm you are despite your cold palms. The sensation of skin meeting skin feels much more different. There’s really no going back this time. Somehow, it feels dangerous, as if you’re doing something forbidden and it makes your skin crawl with excitement.

And by the look on his face, seems like he feels the same way.

“Lost for words?” You taunt him with a smirk, hands on his chest. “That’s new.” His glare is menacing but it falters away the second you rub your arousal against his. 

His head falls to his shoulder, eyes tightly shut. “God, baby…”

There it is again. The funny feeling in your stomach. “Baby?” You simper though your heart is palpitating like crazy. “We’re moving on to giving each other pet names now?”

If he can blush any harder than this, he probably might but with the way you’re grinding shamelessly on his cock, letting him get a glimpse of how wet and warm you are, he’s all maxed-out. 

His earlobe lays between your teeth when you whisper, “Shall we put it in?”

Haechan’s nails are sinking into the skin of your hips, both to hold you in place so you’ll stop torturing him and to press you down harder on his crotch. “I…” He’s so distracted, he can’t even think. The way the side of his length is pressing against your folds is pushing every little bit of self-control he has to the back of his head.

“Haechannie?” You giggle, moving your hips. “I kinda asked you a question here.”

“Yes, fuck, yes, please.” Haechan tries his very best to not sound that desperate for your touch but he is that desperate. “Wait—aren’t we—shouldn’t I wear a condom first?”

You blink, halting your movement. “You brought a condom with you?”

He nods as he leans forward, fingers searching frantically at the pocket of his jeans that hang low on his knees. “Here.”

“Why do you have a condom with you?”

“‘Cause I bought it downstairs just now.”

Your jaw grows slack at the realization. “Is that the reason why your hair was so messy and you were sweating when you barged in here? ‘Cause you ran downstairs, trying to find a condom?”

“I’m sorry, are you really complaining about this now?”

At the feeling of his member twitching underneath you, you sigh. “You’re right. Let’s discuss that later.”

It feels a bit awkward when you stand on your knees, giving him some space and wait until he finishes wrapping the rubber around himself. The silence that hangs between you is almost deafening that by the time he’s done and you fall back to his lap, sitting on his thighs, it feels like you have to start over again.

You diffidently smile. “Hey.”

Haechan is equally as embarrassed, mirroring your gesture. “Hi.”

“I guess we’re gonna have sex.”

“Guess so.”

Another few seconds pass by where you can only meet each other’s eyes, feeling your heartbeat racing louder and louder. It feels like you’re about to burst, honestly, but fortunately for you, Haechan leans in, his fingers tentatively caressing your cheek. “Can I kiss you?” He questions.

You melt under his gaze, his gentle touch, his honey-like voice. “Yes, please.”

Your lips start the connection and the rest of your body follows, fitting every curve of his perfectly like you were made for him. The way Haechan sighs against your mouth sends sparks of electricity all the way down to your toes and you don’t waste any more time. With his mouth latching on your breast, tongue flicking against your nipple, you lower yourself on him.

Haechan’s hold your waist tighter, eyebrows adjoined in the middle at the sensation, his moans muffled. He presses his spine back against the couch, admiring the sight of his member disappearing inch by inch into you. His eyes begin to droop when he’s completely sheathed inside, his bruised lips parted. He cups your cheek, kissing you softly on the corner of your mouth, making you shiver at the sudden tenderness. “I guess we are having sex,” he murmurs with a bashful smile.

You can’t help but laugh a little. “I guess so.” 

It starts slow, with you placing both hands on his chest and him swallowing his breath at the sight of you moving up and down his length. You hiss slightly at the friction, adjusting to his size. 

“Does it hurt?” He asks, tucking a few loose strands behind your ear. 

“A little.” You reassure him with a grin. “Relax, you’re not gonna break me.”

You expect him to send back a snarky remark but what he does is press his forehead against yours. “You’re so warm,” he whispers, tasting the skin that connects your shoulder to your neck. Something about his words, his sensual kiss and his tender touch makes you squeeze your walls around him and he clutches harder around you. He glides his hands lower to your hips, silently urging you to pick up the pace and you follow.

Breathing heavily, Haechan has his thumb grazing your lower lip. “You have such a pretty mouth,” he professes as if he was in a trance.

You seductively bite his thumb, still working your hips. “You’re saying that ‘cause I just sucked your dick.”

“Yes, that too, but really.” It’s as if he’s staring at a work of art, eyes twinkling with admiration. Sometimes, when you’re hitting the right spot and quiver around him, a small moan escapes his lips and you feel him twitching inside you. “It’s—ah—It probably doesn’t sound sincere when I’m saying this now, but I’ve always thought you had a pretty mouth. And lips. I’ve thought about your lips a lot.”

“Yeah?” You mouth against the sensitive skin below his ear, sinking harder on his length. “What else do you like about me?”

“Y-your voice—” You can actually feel him shivering. “You have such a—fuck—I just—I really love your moans.” 

You’re not sure whether he’s saying that because he’s so distracted with the way you’re breathing in his ear or he genuinely loves it. Either way, it’s a pleasure to know how much you’re affecting him with your actions. With a chuckle, you say, “You’re rambling, baby.”

“And your hair,” he adds, probably losing every bit of his self-control by this point. “I love your hair. Looks so soft.” Haechan cards his fingers through your strands. “Feels so soft.”

You hum in response, hoping that your flushed face doesn’t look as apparent as you think. “Anything else?”

“Your—” He shudders when you paint a mark under his collarbone. “Your ass.”

You stop, pulling away to give him a look and he whines at the loss. “My ass?”

“What—” The tips of his ears are turning red, steam practically coming out of them. “Why are you staring at me like that—you have a great ass!”

Teasing him is such a joy to you. “Then, let’s do it this way.” You part away from him, landing back on the carpeted floor so you can turn around, giving him the chance to ogle at your behind, before you ease yourself down onto his lap once more. 

“Fuck—” Haechan’s hisses, his hands going down to your hips again. The new position doesn’t allow you to meet his eyes but with the way he’s whimpering behind you, fingers trailing over the curve of your ass, the sensation increases.

“You okay back there?” You taunt smugly, chuckling a bit because Haechan sounds like he’s losing it. His nails are sinking into your skin and you just know that’s gonna leave a nasty bruise tomorrow. “You seem like you’re enjoying this way too—“ You’re interrupted by your own moans when he suddenly has one hand massaging your breast and another one sliding down your stomach to find your clit. “W-wait, Haechannie—”

“You’re such a tease,” he breathily whispers into your ear, his chest pressing against your spine as he leans forward, pulling you into his embrace. “Isn’t that supposed to be my job?”

His fingers are rubbing you in circles, making your thighs tremble. “You’re right.” You move your hips harder, going out of rhythm with how fast you’re going and Haechan sinks his teeth to your shoulder again.

At the sound of his name departing your lips in the most sinful moan he’s ever heard, Haechan curses. “Shit, you’re not gonna let me enjoy this longer, are you?”

“There’s always a second round, Haechannie.” You smirk, raising your hips all the way up in intention to slam it back down again but Haechan catches you and pushes you forward until you land on the coffee table, stomach pressing flat against the wooden surface. “What—"

“There’s always a second round, right?” His lips are brushing against your ear as he positions himself behind you. “Then I’m going all out.”

When he slams his hips in one swift motion, hard and deep, he knocks all the air out of your lungs. “Wait—” You choke out, can barely keep up with his pace. “Oh God—”

“Now, now,” he coos, his hand finding its way to your throat, fingers pressing against your veins. He raises your face, his chest completing the dip of your spine. “Don’t bring God’s name when I’m fucking you like this, baby.”

You can’t even find the strength to retort, eyes shutting tightly until you see stars behind your eyelids. It almost feels unreal how fast he can go from being awkward and tentative about all of this to raw and wild within a few minutes but Haechan has always been fast adapting to new situations and you have been teasing him way too much. It’s about time that he snaps. 

Haechan moves you down to the floor, forcing you to stand on all fours and you’re so glad you follow his lead. “Spread your knees. Bring your head down,” he instructs and you do as you’re told, extending your arms in front of you. Haechan has his hand on the dip of your shoulder blades, holding you still until you have no choice but to press your cheek against the carpeted floor, ass in the air. “Good girl,” he praises, kneeling behind you and rubbing his tip along your folds. “Ready, baby?”

He doesn’t wait for your answer.

With only a few minutes in, you know you’re getting close, you can feel it. He has switched from giving deep, hard thrusts to quick, shallow ones and it’s driving you insane. “H-Haechannie, I—” you whimper, “I’m close—”

And he knows it too, of course he does. He can tell by the way you’re clenching around him. But instead of going harder and driving you completely over the edge, Haechan suddenly laces his fingers with yours, his lips painting soft kisses from your nape down to your spine, his hips hitting another angle that feels just as amazing even when he slows down the pace. The intimacy surprises you as you don’t expect him to be this tender. Suddenly, it doesn’t feel like you’re doing this out of sheer passion. With his palm covering the back of your hand, fingers slipping between yours, somehow, everything feels more sentimental, stronger, crossing the lines.

With a moan of your name, Haechan flips you to your back, fingers framing your face, lips meeting lips as he thrusts back in, gasping against your mouth. “I want to see your face,” he says when he pulls away, his half-lidded eyes boring into yours, thumb slipping between your lips. “Not sure if I’ve told you this before but…” He snaps his hips, and you tangle your legs around them in response, fingernails digging into his upper arms. “You’re so beautiful.”

The knot in your stomach untangles without warning and your orgasm hits you so hard, you nearly sob at the sensation. With the way you’re quivering and squeezing around him, Haechan follows right after, his face sinking into the crook of your neck, hips stuttering as he rides out his own orgasm.

***

With his jeans back on and his used condom thrown away to the nearest trash bin, Haechan joins you back on the carpeted floor as you still haven’t found the strength to get up and get dressed after that. He shamelessly lays his body down on top of yours, his cheek pressing against the valley of your breasts. “I’m spent,” he mumbles, feeling drowsy.

“Haechannie?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re heavy.”

“I know.” But he doesn’t get up, only moving his head slightly to press a tiny kiss to your bare chest before he lies his head down over your heart again. You give up with a smile, wrapping your arms around him, fingertips stroking his hair. Haechan sighs contentedly under your touch. “Man, that was…”

“That was?”

“Amazing.” He props himself up on his elbows so he can meet your eyes. “You’re amazing.”

Your heart jolts at the sincerity in his words but you cooly smile back. “I know.”

“And I’m amazing too, I’m sure?”

“Meh,” you shrug. “Could be a little better but I’ll let you practice on me for free.”

“Jesus Christ.” He shakes his head, his strands tickling your nose. “I don’t even have the strength to join your banter. You know, I’ve always wondered since you’re pretty much shit at everything, there must be something you’re good at. But I never thought that something would turn out to be sex. I can’t even believe I’m saying this but you’re really, really amazing at it. I feel like I should give you a medal or something.”

“Thanks,” you flatly mutter. “Not sure if you’re praising me, though.”

“Oh, I am praising you, believe me. And you know me, I rarely praise.” 

“Stop it,” you use your robotic voice. “You’re making me feel so special, I’m about to cry.”

Haechan playfully nips at your nose, forcing you to break off your act and laugh directly into his mouth. “Seriously,” he says, breaking off the kiss. “If I were to pay you for sex, I would give you everything I own. Even the clothes I’m wearing. Hell, I’d even sell my grandma but don’t tell her that.”

Your laughter has reduced into small giggles. “That’s comforting.”

“So…” The way Haechan is caressing your hair is so soft, almost like a mother to her sleeping child. “What should we do about this?” When you raise an eyebrow, he tensely adds, “Do you, umm… I mean, do you want to, like—”

“You’re rambling.”

“I know, God, I’m so nervous! I may look like a naughty, sexy bad boy—”

“No one is saying that—“

“But I actually suck at this—as in, I don’t really know how to date a girl.”

“You don’t even know how to talk to a girl, based on the conversations we’ve had,” you comment and you know it’s not helping but it’s worth seeing his adorable pout. “Then don’t date me. If it’s hard for you to date, then let’s just keep being friends—"

“But I want to continue this!” He says it so fast and firmly that you don’t even have time to feel hurt about your offer. 

It’s not like you crave a relationship with him—you haven’t thought about it that far—even just holding him like this is enough for now, so the fact that he’s so excited to have this going makes your heart swells with joy. “Well then, we’ll be friends who have casual sex anytime we want,” you suggest.

He blinks twice, a bit amazed at your offer, but to your surprise, he seems rather… disappointed? “What happens if we start catching feelings?” He quietly asks.

“Then I guess we’ll start dating for real.”

“Then…” He runs a hand through his hair, nervous. “What happens if I already have feelings for you?”

He states it so quietly, it’s a miracle you can even hear him. “Do you want to date me, Haechannie?”

He looks away, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “Do you want to date me?” He murmurs against your skin, unsure and flustered.

You heave the heaviest sigh you’ve ever done in your life. “You’re unbelievable. I’ll decide for us then. Starting now, we’re dating.”

He lifts his head, and if he were a puppy, he would’ve had his tail wagging behind him, even when his face doesn’t show much. “That easy?”

“That easy. What, you have something to complain about?”

“No.” He grins, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips. “Hey, girlfriend.”

“Ugh, get off me, you’re gross.”

But no matter how hard you push your palm against his face, Haechan only giggles and turns you around so this time, you’re lying on his chest. “So,” he pushes a few strands of your hair behind your ear. “You like me, huh?”

“No, what makes you think that way?”

“Says the girl who just slept with me.”

“I slept with you ‘cause I was just curious about your dick. Jeno said you had a dick that was the size of his thumb.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Didn’t you see his InstaStory last night?” You reach up to gather your phone from the coffee table. “I took a screenshot of it actually. Man, you should’ve seen the comments. They’re hilarious.”

Snatching your phone away, Haechan runs his eyes along the words written on the screen. “That son of a bitch!”

Simpering, you sneak a peek under his boxer. “Well, he’s not wrong.” 

“Oh, it’s on,” he deadpans, throwing your phone away and pushes you back down on the floor. His eyes glinting mischievously. 

“What are you doing?” You’re still half-laughing when he brings your hands over your head, holding your wrists together with one hand as he settles between your thighs, his fingers hovering dangerously close.

“I’m gonna make you take your words back.” He wets his lip, one corner of his mouth turning upward. “Time for the second round, baby.” 

***

[subwaysurf45]

Love You to the Moon and Back

summary: Bucky notices you’re feeling down after a bad injury, he does his best to help.

words:  3817

warning: depressive episode, doctors, mainly fluff!

pairing: Bucky x Reader 

Masterlist!

Bucky could tell you were getting bad again. 

And it hurt him to see you like this but it always happened after a big mission, your job was traumatizing and it took a toll on all of you. Bucky knew he had his days but he also knew when you finally let yourself slip it was really bad. 

You were a very headstrong person, you didn’t like letting people see your weaknesses or just you being hurt in general. So it sucked when you had broken your shin and witnessed a school of kids get blown up by a bomb, maybe sucked is an understatement but it was what you always said. 

You had pretended to be a teacher because there was supposed to be a hit on most teachers at a private school, so when the school blew up before everyone was out of the building- including you -it left the memories very crystal clear. There was no way of saving everyone so you saved yourself, and the feeling of selfishness had never been more apparent than right now. You were lying in bed with a cast on your left leg, your left leg was on top of the duvet while the other leg was under. 

A tank top and shorts was all you wore even though you were cold. A pillow was placed between your legs down by your shins to keep the injured one elevated, Bucky had stuck it there the last time he came in to check on you. 

Speaking of Bucky, he walked into your shared room in the compound. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky cooed as he gently opened and closed the door without making any sound, you had become hyper-aware to sound and light so a loud noise or a flash of a camera could send you into a state of hysterics. Bucky sat himself at the edge of the bed at around your midsection, you were lying in the middle and facing him. You barely said hello, all you could muster was a groan that had the same rhythm as the word hello. “How’s my girl doing?” Bucky rubbed your thigh very carefully. 

It was so obviously a rhetorical question, you were absolutely shit and he knew it. You both just stared at each other and Bucky seemed to get the message, he nodded and looked down. The room was so dark from the lights being off and the curtains being pulled you barely registered that Bucky had a plate of cheese, apple slices, and crackers. Bucky saw you turn your nose up and he knew you would, you had been like this for what felt like weeks. 

“You have your two appointments today, you wanna use the crutches or the wheelchair?” Bucky asked as he gently caressed your thigh, a little hum came after a few sections to clarify this wasn’t rhetorical. 

“I don’t know,” you mumbled into your pillow. 

“Okay…” Bucky held onto the last syllable, he glanced over to the wheelchair and crutches. “How about you have a little snack and then when you got food- and I’ll get water -you can make your choice. You also know you can switch and I’ll be glad to grab it for you, alright?” he did a few quick pats on your thigh before setting the plate down on the bedside table, he grunted as he stood up and stuck his arms slowly beneath you. All Bucky did was sit you upright to eat, you had gotten better at eating and now didn’t need motivation to eat but just a little push at the beginning to keep going after the first bite. Bucky also found if he ate a few pieces from the plate you’d be more inclined to eat the rest. 

“Thanks,” your voice was low and barely audible. 

“No need, pretty lady,” Bucky got right beside you and grabbed the plate, he placed it between you and let you choose the first piece. “So, you’re at the doctor at two and then Doc at three-ten, do you wanna nap between for a little or for a while after?” he just took a cracker and plopped it into his mouth. 

“No, no nap between, I wanna sit outside Doc’s office like before to make sure I’m not late.” You mumbled and stacked a piece of cheese on an apple slice. Doc was your therapist that was assigned to you a little while before your injury, Bucky wasn’t the only one who got nightmares and manic episodes; you probably got them more. Bucky knew he couldn’t go into your therapy meeting, he could physically go in but it went against his morals, this was your time to be alone and completely vulnerable to a human that you only see one or twice a week, he didn’t want you to sugar coat anything just because he wa sitting there. 

Bucky nodded and hummed before pulling the notebook out of the bedside table’s drawer, your combat backpack which you used for everything between missions and a picnic in the park was curled over itself in the corner of your room. Bucky picked it up and headed back to bed to let it rest there as he packed. He did this when you weren’t injured, Bucky had sadly realized your memory was a little shot from the amount of bootleg brainwashing and head injuries. You’d constantly forget about appointments or missions, or even the date. 

“Baby, I told you, your birthday is today, that’s why I got flowers.” Bucky said and pointed to the counter with the bright flowers on it. 

“No…” you rubbed the front of your head. “My birthday isn’t today, I forget the day- but it’s not today, I swear.” 

He slid in your journal that you used to write down lists and memories, you had used a guitar pick as your bookmark even though you can’t play anymore. Sometimes when you’d show up to a therapy session you’d forget what you wanted to say, it hurt him when he’d walk you there and you’d be saying the list of things under your breath with your eyes closed. Nightmare, mom, picking my nails, ankle, nightmare, sand, flowers. 

“We gotta go soon, anyways, wanna get ready for the day?” Bucky softly asked, there was no nice way of telling your loved one they needed to shower. 

“Sure,” you looked down at the plate and grabbed the last of it before getting up, the apple and cheese was just curled in the palm of your hand, as you walked over you shoved it all into your mouth because you knew you had to shower and you didn’t like soggy cheese. 

“I’ll keep packing your bag, and I’ll fill a water bottle for you.” Bucky had been your human crutch as you walked to the bathroom, you had an itch down in your cast that was bugging you. 

Tony had wanted to add tech to the shower to help you stand because putting pressure on your left leg hurt after three minutes and seven seconds- not that you were timing to see how long you could go without collapsing. You had said no to tech and just asked for a bar, Bucky even thought it would be cool but it was all up to you. 

Bucky helped you slip out of your clothes before leaving you be, he knew he would have to check on you periodically because you were too stubborn to ask for help if you had fallen or couldn’t get in the shower. You gripped onto the metal bar and helped yourself slip in, you turned the water on right away. 

You liked warm, long showers. You just let the water hit your skin as you stood in front of the shower head, the water pressure was high so you let the bullets hit your face when your eyes were closed. Your hair got wet as you stood there, you reached for the bottle of shampoo and expected it to be where it always was. The was getting into your eyes and when you squinted to see where the bottle was everything was double, as you reached for the bottle you had actually reached for the fake double and knocked the bottle off the ledge. A loud thump rang through the bathroom and it sounded like a bomb. 

There was one second of silence before you heard scrambling from outside the bathroom door, all at once you could see the door swing open by its shadow through the curtain. The curtain was pulled back so hard a couple of ringlets holding it up were ripped off. 

“Baby?” Bucky yelled before he registered you were standing upright. “What?” he breathed heavily, he was completely expecting you to be passed out on the floor with a cracked skull. 

“Shampoo bottle,” you said meekly. 

“Oh, thank god…” Bucky sighed to himself as he reached down to pick it up. “Are you hurt at all, did you fall?” He placed the bottle back on the ledge which made him reach across your naked body, on his way back his hand touched your shoulder then went to cup your cheek and move your head to look at him. 

“I’m all good, babe.” You smiled, an exhausting smile. 

“Alright, back-is-packed, finish up and I'll help you over to physio, alright?” Bucky closed the curtain to give privacy but waited for a verbal answer. 

“Perfect, thank you.” You grabbed the bottle again, your heart ached for him to be in the shower with you, it was something you did all the time before you were injured. 

“Don’t thank me, pretty lady.” Bucky reached for the door and opened it, before he could walk out, your voice quietly called his name, he could barely hear it over the water in the shower. “Yes?” he replied with the same softness. 

“Stay here with me, please.” the ‘please’ came after a beat, and extra plea. 

“Always,” Bucky sat on the toilet seat and gave the company you needed as you tried to stick your finger down your cast to itch that one spot on your leg. 

*****

Soon enough you were sat in the physio room, Bucky was off to the side with paper work in his lap and a binder in your backpack he packed for you. You liked the moral support when you were here because you never really had the best experience with doctors, Bucky would act like he wasn’t even there. That was a good thing, he did need to be the hovering boyfriend all the time because that can get tiring for both parties. He’d look up and listen to the doctor near the end, Bucky would write down the exercises and when to do them so he could gently remind you later. 

“Alright, you’re gonna get a new cast next week,” the doctor smiled at you, when you didn’t pick up on the excitement the doctor’s smile faded. “That means three quarters done!” Bucky had looked up and smiled, even clapped a couple times. 

“Then I have to learn how to walk again,” that was an exaggeration but it didn’t feel like one. 

The doctor gave a knowing look, “why do I feel like you’re already walking without the crutches?” You didn’t say anything because it was true. 

Your leg was examined and x-rayed, Bucky held onto your necklace as you went in. Your mind faded in and out as the doctor spewed ‘doctor stuff’ at you, you just didn’t have the care to listen; but Bucky did. He’s the type of guy to take notes and research later. 

Bucky would look over and see you looking at the floor, not even paying attention. He knew he couldn't get mad at you, you both dealt with injury very similarly. But something about seeing you shut down entirely made his heart ache, he wanted to reach out and lift the corners of your lips up into a smile because they seemed like they were being weighed down, he couldn’t remember the last time you smiled and real smile. He hadn’t been going on mission to keep you company, but now he knew his most important mission.

He walked you over to your therapy session that was still in the building, your Doc would come to the Avenger tower. He’d walk you right to the door of some random debrief room and kiss you goodbye. Bucky would hold your shoulders and gently rub your arms to hype you up before going in, he gave his little speech and said the same thing after. 

“You know I love you, and I know it’s hard.” he’d then kiss your cheeks and forehead. “I’ll be right here when you’re done, don’t even sweat it, pretty lady.” He then wouldn’t leave until the door closed and he heard muffled voices. 

The tower was right in the heart of the city, everything he needed was right there and a walking distance away. He slipped on a long sleeve and his gloves, he knew you took the backpack but you also had reusable bags, he took a few and headed out into the summer heat, it wasn’t humid today which was great but it wasn’t cold either. The tote bag was slung over his shoulder, all that was in it right now as a list. 

flowers 

chocolate

card

stuffed animal 

To call Bucky a romantic would seem weird to someone who only knew of him from the news or a museum, you knew him as a total hopeless romantic. Even in the 40’s, Bucky was the type of person to keep their walls up until he really got to know and trust you. It would normally be one little thing that would allow him to truly be himself around someone, he let his guard down that day you were walking to the restaurant he made a reservation at, Bucky placed himself so that arm or hand you’d hold would be his right but when you caught on you walk around him and looped both arms around his left, metal arm. After that, he was goner. 

He’d leave little sticky notes everywhere, a blue square paper in the coffee mug that read: ‘make sure you only drink one cup!’ or another on your shampoo bottle: ‘you look great naked ;)’. Bucky knew the little things mattered to you and vice versa, he knew that grand gestures didn’t mean anything without a little kiss that came before. 

The flower shop smelt great, Bucky didn’t know much about plants but he knew which ones you’d like. He was thinking of putting one on each bedside so whenever you’re lying in bed- which was a lot -you could look at some pretty flowers. They were a nice shade of purple and the stems were not too long, Bucky bought them and put them gently in his tote bag before heading over two stores to the grocery store you always shop at.

He was envyus of your clean eating, you’d eat what you want but you’d shop at fermer’s markets and organic stores. Bucky didn’t know it made a difference. He went to the frozen section and found chocolate covered strawberries. Bucky picked up a little pack of eight and headed to the front. There were also flowers there but they didn’t look nearly as nice. All he wanted was a very simple cute card with a blank inside, they were easy to find. It was cream coloured with a little sketch of a fuzzy, brown teddy bear holding a yellow balloon. All it said in dainty cursive at the top was: “look at you go!” Bucky knew this was perfect. Near the cards were little toys and stuffed animals. He found a bear that looked eerily similar to the one on the card but without the balloon. 

As he walked into the Avenger’s tower the bag was full and he had enough time to spare to set things up. Bucky headed to the rooms and made the bed, he changed the sheets as well because he knew you liked them when they were crisp. The teddy sat right in the middle with the card next to it. Bucky had written a little note that covered the entire right side of the card. He got a bowl from the kitchen and filled it with ice, he also found that white wine you liked and stuck it on there with the strawberries just to keep them cool but not melted. 

Bucky glanced at his watch and felt almost giddy as he realized it was time to head over to the conference room, he had to work on not giving it away when he’d first see you with his wide smile. The walk to the room was quick because of how fast Bucky was walking, he turned the corners sharp and almost jogged down the hall down the meeting rooms. He only stood there for about three seconds before the door slowly opened, Doc had opened the door and helped you out. Bucky’s smile turned into complete worry when you walked out holding a tissue to your nose, your eyes were red and puffy. Bucky also noticed that your fingernails were red and bleeding, that was one habit you were currently trying to break. 

“What’s going on?” Bucky asked in quiet disbelief, his eyebrows almost touching. 

Doc gave a curt nod, “we talked about a lot of things,” her answers were always so vague. 

You sniffled and waited for Doc to leave down the hall, Bucky was still looking at you. His hands held your shoulders and gently massaged the answer out of you. 

“It was a good cry, I needed that.” you sighed from exhaustion. 

A little piece of Bucky’s heart broke, if you needed to have a good cry then you could have told him, he would’ve listened. Bucky started to go back and see where it went wrong, if he was too overbearing and if this whole afternoon he had planned was created at a very wrong time. He wanted to ask what he did wrong but what came out was different. “Well that’s good to hear, I know Doc is good at that- helping you out.” His words were true but something about the delivery made it seem uneasy. 

“I just-” you looked to the ceiling and hoped to find the words you needed written there. “I like flushing it all out to her because I won’t see her for a week and I don’t need to keep up with what I’m feeling. I always cry to you but Doc is just really good at explaining how I feel, you’re there to validate it and make me feel soothed.” You held his left hand as you both walked down the hallway. “I feel lighter, like, I feel better.”

“That’s always good, sweetheart,” Bucky made sure you were putting weight on him because you didn’t bring your crutches but you really should have. “I have a little treat for you,” He turned to face you when you both stood at his door, Bucky kept his hand on the door handle. “I know it’s been a rough few weeks but I hope you know I love you all the same, and all I see is my strong, beautiful girlfriend.” Bucky saw your confused face, as he opened the door to reveal a dim lit room with flowers, wine and a teddy your eye welled up with tears again. 

You gasped and put your hands on your chest, “for me?” your voice shook as you walked in, you peered into the ice bucket to see your favourite wine and some food as well as a card beside the ice bucket, under the teddy. Tears flowed down your face as the feeling of being overwhelmed washed over you, you could barely string a sentence together. A hand waved the gifts all away, “too much,” was all you could muster. 

“No, baby,” Bucky smiled, he walked over and pulled you into a hug. “Nothing will ever be too much for you.”

He let you cry in his chest for a very long time, you both ended up sitting on the edge of the bed as he stroked all the way up your back. His hand would bunch up your hair as he went up to your neck. His lips were right at your ear, all he whispered were sweet nothings and a calming ‘shh’ once and a while. When you had a little composure Bucky reached for the card, as you read it your lips trembled even more. A hand stayed glued to your heart as your body warmed at loving words, you could barely read it with blurry vision from the tears but it still seemed crystal clear. Your finger traced over the signature: ‘love you to the moon and back, Bucky’. And you crumbled again, your forehead hit his chest as you cried away all the pent up emotion you thought you flushed out at your therapy session. 

With all the crying you were so tired, Bucky had thrown on a movie you two could watch while enjoying your strawberries and wine. You only had two and half a cup before you were snoring on Bucky’s shoulder, he tried to nudge you a couple times but nothing worked at all. He watched the movie on his own and saved the last two strawberries for you in the morning. You didn’t even wake up at him getting up and leaving the room. When he came back he got you out of your day clothes and into something comfy. 

*****

You woke up to the sun hitting your back, when your eyes opened they focused on the flowers and a smile graced your face. It was the first time in a long time since you smiled with your eyes, a little giggle even slipped out. 

At that sound Bucky walked out of the bathroom, “well there she is,” he smiled wide. 

“What does that mean?” you wiped the drool from the side of your mouth, “I had a nap, a really good one, too.” You seemed to be bragging. 

“A nap? Baby, it’s eight.” Bucky raised his eyebrows. 

“Ya, I fell asleep at about five so I had a three hour nap, no biggie.” You rolled on your back and stretched out, your gaze moved back to Bucky when you heard a giggle, “what?” you laughed back. 

“Eight in the morning, the next day. Your three hour nap was actually a well deserved fifteen hour hibernation.” Bucky joined you on the bed. 

“That’s why I feel so good,” you sighed, you looked over to Bucky and swatted his chest at his little smirk. “Don’t think like that.” 

“I bet I can make you feel just as good-”

You cut him off with a kiss.

[thera-daydreams]

PLUS ONE

》 A TRESE TWOSHOT 《

[Maliksi x Reader]

📝 Summary: In which your beloved best friend snatches you from your apartment at dawn asking you to be his plus one for his cousin's wedding. Unbeknownst to the clueless you, everything is just going according to Maliksi's ultimate masterplan. With the help of friends and family, the Prince of the Tikbalang finally gets the girl he's been longing for. And oh, Señor Armanaz gets his dream daughter-in-law and the promise of grandchildren within the year.

📌 Warning: May contain some slight NSFW for spicy suggestiveness and cussing. No smut or anything super SPG—this girl can't write that for her life—but just be prepared. It's Maliksi we're talking about. We've got friends-to-lovers, obliviousness, pining, fluff, and a tikbalang simp. Figure it out. 😃

(word count: 7,454) ♥︎ Part Two: ?

》 AUTHOR'S NOTE 《

Not an Inday spinoff, but a lengthy oneshot in celebration of this blog getting 90 followers. Just ten more to 100, yay! Thank you so much for the love and support, everyone. I also promised that I'll be making this brainrot that @binibiningbabaylan and I have fangirled over a few days ago (find the original post here) when I finished the latest chapter of Inday. Here it is! 🥰

Before I forget, I was also inspired by the cute fic made by @crispybasil titled "Sunshowers" and the "Trese Boys As Things My Guy Friends Do" made by the amazing @smolla-than-a-bug (I bow down to your wonderful works in the Trese fandom). I definitely see Maliksi to be the type to go on spontaneous roadtrips and be the boyfriend to drive you around eveeeerywhere (while also driving you crazy). 🚘

There are also some songs mentioned throughout this work. You should probably listen to them while reading for the full experience. Ending was somewhat rushed but eh, I'm too exhausted and I've rewritten it too many times. Also, if someone makes some actual tikbalang smut, tag me please. Anyways, enjoy! 💕

The way it all started was hilarious. Absolutely fucking hilarious. It happened like a blur. Literally. One second, you were snoozing in your bed. The next? You had a seatbelt on in the shotgun seat of a sophisticated-looking car. Your brain didn't even get to process it yet.

"... So let me get this straight," you grumbled, still half-asleep from your sleep marathon. You just finished a hugely successful project at work yesterday, got promoted, and wanted to make up for the restless nights you spent overtime in the office. Of course you were irritated from being disturbed. You were on vacation leave for two entire weeks, originally planning to go into temporary isolation by deactivating your social media accounts and reserving a beach cabana for yourself in Batangas.

Well, turns out, you weren't going to Batangas anytime soon. All because your unreasonably spontaneous bestfriend of ten hectic years stole you from your apartment at 2AM. Was this considered kidnapping? Was this him just being more in touch with his tikbalang side, taking unsuspecting women in their sleep and leading them to their inevitable death? (He was going over the speed limit, so it was a valid thought.) Will wearing your shirt inside-out save you today? Lord, masyado ka pang pagod para mag-isip ngayon.

"Go on."

"You abducted picked me up in the middle of the night because you want me to be your plus one at your cousin's wedding in Tagaytay?"

"Yup. And technically, the venue is right on the outskirts of Cavite going to Tagaytay," he corrected you as a matter-of-factly.

"Same thing, whatever," you huffed tiredly. "Your cousin's wedding is at 6AM today. In a few hours. In four hours."

"Uh-huh."

You groaned exasperatedly, "Mal naman, eh! You didn't even let me bring anything. Could've at least given me a heads-up a few hours ago. I'm practically emptyhanded right now save for my phone! Sinungaling ka, you said this was just a normal midnight drive—not a freaking wedding!"

The Prinsipe ng Mga Tikbalang, son of the Great Stallion, heir to the Armanaz herd, and the Top Drag Racer of C-5 Expressway—if that was even one of his Game of Thrones-like titles—grinned as he continued driving beside you. He let you continue ranting in the passenger seat while he mulled over his ultimate masterplan that would change his entire life later on. He was a spur-of-the-moment kind of guy, so all this wasn't his thing. But for you? He'll make plans, alright.

"Wala man lang akong dinalang masusuot o kahit konting makeup para maging presentable sa harapan ng buong pamilya mo," you exclaimed, in absolute despair. "Do you know how out of my league you are? Your rich-ass family might judge me—hell, your dad might see me as a hampaslupa if I show up there in my pambahay and tsinelas!"

"Psh, I'm not out of your league," Maliksi waved it off, smoothly turning a corner. "And calm down. We've known each other for a decade! My dad practically loves you as his own daughter. Heck, the entire family knows you and keeps telling me they want you adopted in already. Lolo Andres and Lola Perlita said they'd have the paperwork settled. You just need to sign them."

It would be even better (and easier) if you married into the family. To him, specifically (as if he'd let anyone else have you). God, he was already being so obvious in his advances, but you were just so damn oblivious whenever it came to romance. None of this needed to happen if you just got it through your thick skull that he was madly in love with you.

"That's not the point, idiot!" you slumped back into your seat, hopeless. "Do you think the bride and the groom will get offended? Shit, baka masumpaan ako kung magagalit sila, Mal. Mukha akong patay galing sa South Cemetery."

The long-haired tikbalang rolled his eyes, "Huwag kang mag-alala. Nothing's going to go wrong. Chill ka lang diyan. I've got everything under control, babe."

Babe. Yes, he even called you babe but you thought it was him being a himbo and a massive flirt. Now, it was his common term of endearment for you, but you still assumed it was him just being irksome to you and that you couldn't stop the man from saying it anymore. Thus, you let it be (the most obvious hint of his attraction to you, bestie).

"... Ugh, why didn't you ask Hannah or Amie to go with you?"

He just smiled knowingly, shrugging and making up an excuse, "Nagmamadali ako, eh. Hannah and Amie are also coming, but they already have the other tikbalang as dates."

"'Luh, ako pala ang backup choice mo?"

"Heh. Whatever you want to think."

Little did you know that you were always his first choice. Always. Even when he pursued Alexandra Trese many years ago, trying to convince himself you were just his best friend, it was always you. How did he come to that realization? Well, an international band he was a fan of released a song a couple years ago and he heard it being played in a club in BGC. The song title?

It Was Always You by Maroon 5.

Needless to say, after hearing the song and being unable to get it—get you—out of his mind at night, he stopped courting Alexandra. Unfortunately for him, that time, you'd started dating other men. Therefore, he was left on the sidelines... until your latest and most painful breakup, at least. That was five years ago. You still hadn't dated anyone since then, kind of traumatized from getting into another failed relationship like that.

In the present day, as if the fates were playing on you two, one of your favorite artists played on the radio. A very ironic song given the situation you two were in.

Best Friend by Rex Orange County.

Maliksi knew it was a favorite of yours. He knew it by the way your eyes lit up like a star brightening the twinkling night sky. Like the sun first rising in the morning at Apolaki's command. Like the moon extending its gentle rays from the magic of Mayari herself. If there was anything he wanted to ask of the old gods, it was you—everything else be damned.

"I wanna be the one that makes your day, the one you think about as you lie awake," you half-sang and half-screamed happily, somewhat out-of-tune. "I can't wait to be your number oooooone! I'll be your biggest fan and you'll be mine—"

Maliksi glanced at you, not minding that his eardrums were probably getting microscopic ruptures from your aggressive singing. As much as he wanted to stare at you all day, he had to keep his eyes on the road. But the lyrics you were singing were wrong; the Prince of the Tikbalang was already yours from day one.

"Babe, McDo drive-through tayo for breakfast. Let me make it up to you. Gusto mo ng caramel sundae for your promotion gift? Sige. Ako bahala. Chicken nuggets din? Mabubusog ka ba niyan? I don't think they serve those this early..."

》》》

"Sandali lang!" you shouted out from inside an empty room. You'd just arrived at the venue—the Alta Veranda de Tibig in Silang, Cavite (practically the gateway to Tagaytay)—an hour or so ago. The hired makeup artist just left so that you could privately change into the outfit that had been bought specifically for you. Curse Mal and his ability to buy anything (perhaps anyone) he wanted. "Bwiset, Mal, you didn't tell me we'd be part of the damn entourage. We have to be walking the aisle in thirty minutes, simbako! You just love rushing me, don't you!?"

If only you were the one walking down the aisle today towards him.

When you exited the room, Maliksi couldn't help but let his jaw drop as he skimmed your figure, clad in the luxurious, silky satin blush midi dress he bought in one of those fancy stores in Makati yesterday. He imagined that it would look great on you, but now, seeing it on you in person... you looked divine (and frankly, he wanted to see it off your body to see what was underneath—but don't get too ahead of yourself, Mal). It was a whole 'nother level from his imagination. The deep cowl neckline and thin spaghetti straps showed your lovely collarbones... as well as a peek of your cleavage. His favorite and the best part of it all? It was backless, allowing him to gaze at the tempting curve of your spine.

He hadn't realized he had grown silent until you smiled and closed his mouth, tapping his chin.

"Lalangawin ang bibig mo, Mal," you laughed softly. Never had you seen him so speechless. You then flicked your hair back, ridiculously posing for him like you were on the cover of Vogue magazine (haba ng hair mo, gurl!). "Do I look that good? Char lang."

"... You look absolutely ravishing—I mean, uh, stunning. Hot. Yeah." That was all he could say. He mentally punched himself for not showering you with more suave compliments.

Still, your face brightened up, not knowing that the man in front of you just fell for you a thousand times harder, "Wow! Really? Damn. Ang galing talaga ng MUA na kinuha mo, ginawa akong artista. Give me their contact number later! May work event pa naman ako in two months. I'm shocked, it's like they made me rise from the dead! Even my eyebags are gone, Mal! How'd they do that?" Heck yeah, your confidence was boosted. He offered his arm to you like a gentleman, making you half-heartedly roll your eyes (you took it anyway). From holding it alone, you could tell that your best friend was a sinewy man (well, you knew that already after seeing his tikbalang form before—the little shit didn't even wear a loincloth like all his clanmates; your poor eyes were eternally scarred).

You looked him up and down. You wouldn't lie—Maliksi is and always has been an attractive man. Now? With his hair in a ponytail (pun not intended), definitely one of the hunkiest men you've ever known. "You're not looking too bad yourself, horsey."

"Ako pa!" He puffed his chest out in pride. You chuckled at his reaction.

"By the way, how do you even know my dress size and my shoe size?"

"Babe, I've known you too long. You know almost everything about me, I know everything about you."

You snorted at his confident tone, "'Di nga? You don't know every single thing about me, Mal. Assuming ka masyado."

"Alam ko nga anong cup size mo. Wala lang 'yang shoe and dress size."

You slapped his shoulder, cheeks quickly flushing red, "Huy, umayos ka! Walang hiyang tikbalang na 'to." With this guy as your best friend? You heard dirty jokes at least once a day. "Don't be inappropriate here!"

"What? It's only fair I know!" He looked down on you suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows. "You already know I always go commando, so of course I know that your bra is a size—"

"Shhh! Baka marinig ka, 'nyeta."

"So? Let them hear. My best friend has a nice set of melons!" he shouted. You were grateful there was no one around. Hopefully.

"Oh my God..."

Your best friend chortled at how flustered you'd become. He led you to where some of his family was waiting, with a couple of his relatives already greeting you. You instantly and quite easily mingled with them, your worries of them not accepting you far from even true (they all knew how much their prince loved the innocent you).

"Kayo na talaga, pare?" one of his older tikbalang clanmates asked while you went away to be fawned over by his aunts.

Maliksi chuckled, crossing his arms as he watched you from afar, "Heh. Hindi pa."

Another one of his clanmates—a younger one—laughed, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, "Talaga? That's cap, bro. You two are like a married couple already and you guys still aren't a thing?"

"Ilang taon na ba kayong magkakaibigan?" the older one asked him.

"Almost ten years," Maliksi responded, a smile unconsciously pulling his lips up as he remembered your moments together. He watched you converse with his female relatives (who adored you the moment Maliksi brought you to a family event many moons ago).

The two tikbalang snickered as they saw the look on the Great Stallion's heir.

"You're down bad," the younger one said, snapping a photo of his lovestruck kuya. "You've got it so bad for her, dudeparechong!"

"Balak mong ligawan anytime soon?" the older tikbalang inquired.

"Heh. Balak ko na ngang pakasalan. Kung pwede, ngayon."

They looked at Maliksi as if he was crazy. He was very much serious, though, even if there was a huge, lopsided smile on his face. The Prince of the Tikbalang raised a brow at them.

"What? Don't give me that look. Our ten years of being best friends is practically the courting and the dating stage already."

"Eh... you're right. Don't waste anymore time. Go and marry her today, dude. Suporta kami sa'yo, basta groomsmen kami sa kasal niyo, ha!"

"Ge. Without question."

Meanwhile, on your end with the ladies of the family, they started pestering you on your love life (like all typical Filipino aunties). Chismis everywhere.

"O, iha, single ka pa ba?"

"Kailan ka magpapakasal? Malapit ka nang pumasok sa thirties mo."

"Do you want kids? How many?"

"Are you and Maliksi a couple? You look good together! Kayo na, 'di ba?"

"Will you be getting married next? Are you engaged? When's the wedding? Invite niyo kami!"

Before you could get overwhelmed by their questions, Maliksi swept you off your feet to lead you to the entourage that was lining up outside the chapel area. Again, it happened like a blur. He laughed at the partially nauseated look on your face.

"You okay there?" he asked, grinning.

"Your family thinks we're together," you muttered quietly, not meeting his eyes. You weren't sure why you felt... tingly about their statements.

He tilted his head at you curiously, gently setting you down on your feet and helping you stand.

"Do you hate the idea?" It hurt him to ask you the question, but he wanted your thoughts on it. Perhaps doing this was a bad idea. Maliksi was competitive in many things, including wanting you to be his, but if you were so opposed to it, he would never force you into something you didn't want. He let go of your hand; you didn't even notice he'd been holding it until he let go. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

Your wide-eyed gaze snapped back to look up at him, "No! No, it's not that! And... it's not bad." Your hand felt strangely empty now that his was gone. Biting your lip, you disclosed, "You're not making me uncomfortable, Mal. Don't ever think that."

With that, you shyly interlocked your arm with his, tearing your eyes from his to mask the growing warmth you felt spreading in your veins. You two didn't say anything else when the ushers let you walk down the beautiful, petal-covered aisle together.

The man beside you was starstruck. Hopeful. Maybe both of you did have a chance. Maybe somewhere in the depths of your soul, his feelings for you were being reciprocated. For the rest of the sacred ceremony in the gorgeous main pavilion, both of you relished in short, comfortable, and low conversations. He even cracked jokes every once in a while—really funny ones that made it challenging for you to you stifle your laughter.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride."

Maliksi fervently prayed to Bathala that he'd experience the same opportunity he was seeing with you someday. One day.

Even while the sun was brightly out, the sky began showering down light rain onto the land. You were in awe as you looked out the window.

"Hala, totoo nga pala! Tignan mo!" you laughed, tugging Maliksi's suit sleeve, pointing at the window.

"Na ano?" he curiously inquired, not understanding what you were referring to.

"Na kapag may tikbalang na kinakasal, umuulan habang may araw pa," you replied, eyes filled with childlike mirth and wonder. A rainbow had even begun to form by the clouds. "Look, it's magical! Ang ganda pala ng view dito kasama ang old Spanish architecture. Timeless na timeless. It's so pretty, 'no? Picture tayo 'maya, Mal."

Unlike you, it wasn't the sky outside that the prince was looking at. Amidst the loud cheers for the newlywed couple and the bubbles the guests were blowing, his vision could only focus on how magnificent you looked while being amazed. You were his best view. (Ed from 90-Day Fiancé, kabahan ka na, may katapat ka sa pickup line mo.)

》》》

"Smile for the picture!"

You giggled as Maliksi was dragged into a photo-op with the bridesmaids and the important older wedding sponsors a few feet away (funnily, he looked a little constipated around them). All of a sudden, when he was heading back to your direction, you were roughly pushed into the said man's arms. When you turned around, there was nothing (except maybe a gust of wind that came out of nowhere).

"Ooh, gotcha. Careful," the tikbalang steadied you, strong hands holding your biceps. "Natapilok ka?"

"... Huh, hindi naman," you wondered suspiciously, looking around. "I think someone pushed me? Parang tinulak ako... but wala namang tao."

"Weird. Maybe it was just the wind."

It actually was. Really. Maliksi knew for a fact that it was those two taong hangin who were spying on you from the corner, trying to pair you up. He gave them a thumbs-up while your back was turned in the opposite direction. Hannah and Amie returned the thumbs-up before vanishing. Suddenly, the two wedding photographers had moved on from the bridesmaids and were right beside you.

"What a lovely couple you two are!" she praised. Before you could correct her, she held up the black contraption she held towards you two. "Pose for the camera, lovelies!"

And so you did, the photographer guiding you two on what to do. Maliksi wrapped his arm around your waist and you leaned on his side, looking sidewards to the camera with one leg cocked in front of the other. Her assistant, who was holding a polaroid camera, printed out two photos for you.

"Thank you," you told him, taking the photos from his hands then flicking them rapidly to make the images develop. You and Mal were about to walk to the reception area when the photographer stopped you, handing the male beside you a business card.

"If you two need a photographer or a videographer for your wedding, call me," she signaled to both of you before running to another guest, bringing her assistant with her.

You gawked, "Mal, did you just hear what she said?"

"Loud and clear." A grin was on his face. He seemed very pleased at what he heard.

"... How can she even tell if someone is married or not?"

Maliksi's free hand took your left hand, tapping the ring finger, "Nothing here."

"Ooooooh. I get it now." Your brows creased. "Huh. This is like the fifth time today the people here have mistaken us for a couple."

Maliksi shrugged, teasing you, "Who knows? Baka may potential tayo, babe."

Before you could ask him what he meant, he was hurriedly towing you to the reception venue. While he was doing that, you stared at the now-developed polaroid photos you were holding. Huh. Maybe you two did look like a couple.

"Come on, they're serving some snacks at the welcome reception area. Peach pie and mango float-flavored. Paborito mo, babe."

》》》

The rest of the night went by without a hitch. You were actually enjoying the event—the host was great, the food was great, the music was great. Everything was great... that was, until the games.

"Alright! Now that the bride's garter has been removed, let's have the bouquet and garter toss... starting with the females!" the host announced. "Dear bride, please stay here in front. And all single ladies—and by single I mean ready to mingle and are not married—please rise and stand here on the dance floor. Let's play matchmaker tonight, everyone!"

"Uy, single ladies daw," Maliksi nudged your side. "Sign mo na 'yan." You snorted like a pig.

"Nope, ayokong madamay sa bouquet toss," you whisper-yelled at your best friend. "Do you know how embarrassing that is?! Besides, they won't notice if I don't join! Special tactic ko 'yan sa weddings: pretending I'm not single. Katabi naman kita."

More women came to the front, making you feel assured that you didn't need to participate. The host was about to say something, when the bride interrupted to whisper something into his ear.

"Hala, halaaa! Sabi ko all single ladies, pero may isang single lady na nagtatago pa!" he announced, making you freeze. Please don't let it be you. "What's her name, beloved bride?"

"Y/N L/N." You nearly spat out your champagne. You? Did they just call out your name? How did they know?

"Oh fuck," you cursed quietly.

"'Di ka makakatakas dito, babe," Maliksi jabbed, making you stand up. "Tinatawag ka na."

"Baka may ibang Y/N L/N dito," you resisted, attempting to sit back down. "I can't do this, Mal."

"'Sus, ikaw pa. And it's just a symbolic ceremony!" he encouraged, as if he didn't have any underlying intentions. "I doubt the bouquet will go to you anyway."

Sheesh, what a big fat liar you are, tikbalang prince.

You expressed your dissatisfaction with the situation, "Bwiset, fine. I'll just... dodge it. Or evade it. God, I swear..." You calmed down, confident. "I'm not going to worry. I've never caught the bouquet at my own friends' weddings anyway."

When you were at the dance floor, Maliksi snickered, seeing the bride—his cousin—wink at him. After all, he had thoroughly bribed her earlier.

《《《

"It's about time you settled down with someone, Mal," the bride commented while he slipped her the newest Hermés designer bag filled with a bunch of jewelry (plus some bills) two hours ago, right before the reception began and while you were in the restroom freshening up. "Hehehe, this is why you're my favorite cousin."

"Do we have a deal?"

"Of course. I'll make sure she participates. I'll also try to throw it in her direction."

"Good. Thanks."

"You better invite me to your beach wedding. I can tell how much you love her."

"Not a problem. I'll even make you a sponsor."

The bride stared at her bouquet, already practicing how she was going to throw it, "Tito's going to thank me so much for ensuring that he's going to get grandkids soon, hihi."

》》》

Back to the present, on the other end of the room, Maliksi saw a familiar duo give him a sign that they were ready. Bingo. Time to execute the most important part of his plan.

《《《

"I don't care how you do it," he told the two wind elementals after he bribed the bride. "I've already instructed the bride on what she should do, pero siguraduhin niyo lang talagang lumipad sa kanya ang bouquet."

"Mmhmm," Amie flipped her hair, a hand on her cocked hip. "And what do we get in return, oh great Señorito Armanaz?"

"Sagot ko bar-hopping niyo for one month."

The two girls pretended to think about it, making Maliksi roll his eyes. He had to pull out the big guns, huh?

"Fine. Magbibigay ako ng cash deposit plus pwede niyong gamitin ang black card ko for a one-week shopping spree in Ortigas." There. Bullseye. That's what they liked.

"Deal!" they exclaimed excitedly.

Hannah let a cool gust of wind enter one of the nearby windows, testing out how they're going to do this. "Ano pa bang pinaplano mo for Y/N mamaya?"

Maliksi hummed, "Basta."

》》》

You tried your best to hide within the densest part of the group of women. The bride seemed to have her eyes on you, weirdly enough, and she looked almost feral wanting to throw her flowers into someone's face.

That someone being you. Most likely.

"Target locked on," you saw her mouth move. She positioned herself like she was about to throw a football at someone (ahem, you). Holy shit, was she talking to you? Miss ma'am, it was a bouquet toss not a bouquet throw. The bride seemed to notice this, and once more regained her elegant composure.

"3, 2, 1," the host counted down. "Go!"

Surprisingly, the bouquet flew very high into the air (it was a wonder it didn't get tangled in the ceiling decor), but quite a distance away from you. You grinned, knowing it was too far to even touch you. Squeezing through the crowd of women eagerly awaiting the bouquet, you went to return to your assigned table.

Ah, what a wonderful evening.

Sike!

Something painfully landed right into your face, leaves and flowers getting into your hair and mouth.

... Wait, leaves and flowers?

Before you could comprehend it, the bouquet dropped right into your arms. What kind of ungodly, inhuman force allowed this to even happen?

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have our lucky girl for the night!" Everyone clapped, with some—those guests you knew—even cheering your name unbelievably loud. The host approached you, a glint in his eye which you couldn't understand. "Miss Y/N, kindly sit here while we await the lucky guy who catches the garter from the groom."

What just happened?

"All single gentlemen, please proceed to the dance floor. Remember, the man who gets the garter gets to slip it onto the lucky lady's leg later!"

Oh, God. You pinched the bridge of your nose. What you'd give to be back at home or to be in that resort in Batangas you'd planned on going to for a solo vacation.

"To make this even more exciting," the host stated, handing you a black blindfold. "Our lucky lady has to keep her eyes closed until her lucky man for the night captures the bride's garter! When the music plays, only then can she uncover her eyes."

See? Humiliating, just as you expected. Still, you wrapped the blindfold around your head (albeit hesitantly). You attempted to guess who it might be, thinking of all the tikbalang friends Maliksi had introduced to you back then whenever he invited you to his clan reunions.

"Groom, are you ready?" the host asked, microphone loud and clear.

"Ready na ready!"

"Single gentlemen, are you ready?!"

"Ready na ready! Awoo, awoo!" they loudly chorused, exactly mimicking Spartans about to engage in battle. You sweatdropped in the seat you were in. This was actually kind of scary. Maybe you felt a bit objectified.

"3, 2, 1, go!"

There was a brief moment of silence, which made you concerned. Ba't ang tahimik? Then, everyone erupted into roars and bravoes much louder than when you caught the bouquet—perhaps even louder by tenfold. What the heck was happening?!

The music played. Very raunchy, spicy, babymaking music. You expected it to be the typical Careless Whisper by George Michael or Pony by Ginuwine (corny songs which you could probably laugh at, at least), but no. Nuh-uh, this was probably worse. The DJ must be pretty young, the song of their choosing being a slowed, bass-boosted, sexier remix of Earned It by the Weeknd.

Ano 'to, bold? Fifty Shades of Grey? The hell was this?

Alright. This was embarrassing. Thank the heavens there were no children at this party. From the music alone and its implications, this was strictly for adults.

You removed your blindfold (that was okay now, right?) as the guests whistled playfully. You peeked one eye open reluctantly, then inwardly groaned. Oh, no. You should've expected it to be him of all people from how loud the reactions were. And all those yells from the crowd were from his family.

Son of a—

"Well, this has proven to be a very interesting arrangement!" the host proclaimed. "Our lucky man for tonight is none other than our great clan leader's heir, Maliksi Armanaz! Congratulations, sir! You get to slip the lacey little garter on Miss Y/N!"

The said very smug tikbalang stood a few feet away from the chair you were sitting on, smirking at you. His hair was no longer in that mesmerizing ponytail—instead, he'd tied it into a more sinfully attractive man-bun, loose strands framing his face and accentuating that sharp, angled jaw of his (say yes and thank you to Manny Jacinto's jawline, besties).

"Let's cheer him on in his new mission, everybody!" the host pushed. Was this that glint in his eye earlier? And was that a one thousand peso bill sticking out of his pocket?

The groomsmen, Mal's cousins and uncles whom you've met before, hollered words of encouragement to the tall man (who was, oddly enough, not one bit fazed). In fact, Maliksi seemed like he was famished as he stared you down.

You swallowed, feeling like you were going to get eaten (heh, say that again). Maliksi had shrugged off his dark suit blazer to the beat of the song (holy fuck, he also unclasped the suspenders attached to his pants right before your eyes—asdfghjkl). Were you prepared for this? No. Will you ever be prepared? No!

"Mr. Armanaz, before you begin," the host interrupted. "We have an additional challenge for you in this mission. Kaya mo ba? It was a request of the newlywed couple."

"What is it?"

"Use your teeth!" the bride and the groom cheerfully shouted, clapping with the other guests. Whatdidtheysaaaaay???

The cocky bastard didn't even hesitate, his smirk at you growing wider; those pearly whites of his on full display. Was it just you or were his canines a little sharper than usual?

"Anything for the newlyweds. Challenge accepted," he dashingly replied, winking at you. You sputtered indignantly. Pisteng yawa. Putangina. Putek. Pakshet. You swore you thought of every swear word in the book at that moment. What did that YouTube parody song about Filipino mythological creatures say again? About the tikbalang? Ah, yes. Half-macho dancer and half-stallion. Maybe the joke was true, especially when you saw what Maliksi did next.

He bit the shred of lace, loosening his necktie (bestie, you good there?), unbuttoning some top buttons, and rolling up the sleeves of his collared white undershirt up to his elbows (consequently showing off his toned, veiny forearms—those lucky bridesmaids behind him nearly fainted). Honestly, you felt like you were about to lose your mind from embarrassment. With how tantalizing your guy best friend was being? Let our response be: San Pedro, kunin mo na ako. Was he doing all this to tease you? To rile you up?

Because damn it all, it was working. In your ten years of knowing Maliksi Armanaz, withstanding all his daily dirty jokes and flirtatious attempts, never had you seen him like this. So... wolfish. Ravenous. Like he was a man that hadn't been fed in years.

He stalked closer towards you, falling to his knees in front of your legs. Your gown had a long slit that extended up to an inch or two below where your left leg began—your best friend was eyeing his target already, knowing where to place the garter. Normally, you would never even wear something as revealing as this gown. It just wasn't your type, but Maliksi was the one who bought this for you for this specific occasion, so you had no choice. It was this or your pantulog he stole you in just hours ago. At first, you were confident in the gown. Now? You felt too... naked.

Somehow, in the heat of it all, you'd muted out the noise of the venue. Maliksi teasingly lifted your foot up, fingertips slyly grazing the thin shoe straps around your left foot—his calculated touch leaving fire in its trail. Once the garter had been successfuly inserted past your high-heeled stilettos, the man kneeling in front of you kept his hands to himself. Despite the fact that now there was absolutely zero skin-to-skin contact between you and this man, your body felt hotter than it ever was before as he expertly slid the lacy bit of cloth up your ankle at an agonizingly slow pace.

Maliksi's warm eyes had turned dark, his pupils blown, a tinge of red in them—of his true beast—while he maintained striking eye contact with you, pulling the garter up your calf with his teeth. Smoothly tugging... tugging... tugging. Tangina, it was like he was undressing you with his eyes alone; like he was telepathically telling you to keep your eyes open.

To keep your eyes on him, where he was knelt inbetween your legs, his hands intentionally locked on his back. Did you ever imagine this? Him between your legs? Maybe. Once or twice. But you never thought about it seriously; Maliksi dated girls left and right in the past.

His lips... his lips were so close... so close to your leg that you could feel the heat of his breath along with the lace. Were you about to die? Perhaps you already did. Maybe you were in heaven. Up... up... up... snap!

Suddenly, he stopped, grinning up at you mischievously and letting the elastic bounce back to the skin of your left knee.

"I'm not going any further, don't worry, babe," he whispered, noting that your eyes had become misty and glazed over. Internally, he grew worried. "That's enough." Did he think it was from discomfort? From you being uncomfortable? Bitch, no. It was the exact opposite. You had never been this turned on in your entire life.

You felt like your soul had left your body at that moment. Did you just have a heart attack? Was your blood pressure okay? Before you or Maliksi could stand, however, someone bellowed from the wedding sponsor tables.

"Higher! That's an order!"

Fucking hell, it was Maliksi's father who shouted. He wasn't in the huge tikbalang form you'd normally meet him in, but he was still very intimidating in his humanoid form, commanding attention and subservience wherever he went. You could tell where Maliksi got it from.

Instantly, the other guests—already half-drunk and wanting the spirit of partying to continue on—joined in.

"Higher! Higher!"

The host cheered, "You heard Señor Armanaz! Higher!"

Maliksi gave you a questioning look. Even if it was his father who spoke up, he still wouldn't do anything you didn't want. Well, you two made it this far; there was no point in getting embarrassed now. You bit the inside of your cheek, nodding. You probably couldn't erase the redness on your skin with how much you'd blushed from this night. It was as if the heat was tattooed onto your skin.

"Go on, Mal," you whispered to him, bending your torso down closer to his face, eyes half-lidded from want. "Finish what you started, babe."

With those sultry bedroom eyes he'd never once seen you show him before—plus you turning the tables with that familiar term of endearment, how could he refuse? Like a switch had been flipped inside him, he immediately complied, taking the frilly scrap of stretchy lace between his teeth once more, moving it further up to your thighs until where your high slit ended—centimeters below the warming juncture between your legs.

Your legs felt wobbly... boneless, as you stood up from the chair, the fabric of your gown cascading over where the lace sat securely on your upper left thigh. The party was still going strong even after you two finished the garter wearing tradition.

"'Atta boy! That's my son!" Señor Armanaz blazoned, standing up and raising his glass for a toast. "Cheers to the newlywed couple! May they last forever!"

You guys weren't the newlyweds, but it did sure feel like it. If the clan leader was hyped up, everyone was hyped up. Heck, the groom and the bride didn't mind one bit what had just transpired on their dance floor. In all the chaos, Maliksi took you out of the reception area and somewhere quieter. More private.

You would need to have a serious, urgent talk with your boy best friend.

》》》

You two silently sat on a stone bench in a gazebo somewhere in the reserved venue for the wedding, trying to cool down and get yourselves back together (at this point, you needed ice from that steamy, half-scandalous event you just went through). Here, there was no one else except for the chirping of crickets, the lush trees surrounding the area, and the golden fairy lights strewn all over the roof. Awkwardness was something you'd expected after what just happened, but somehow, you still felt comfort in this man's presence. For the past thirty minutes, both of you just stayed still, lost in your thoughts and reflecting.

"Mal?" you finally spoke up.

"... Hmm?"

"Ano tayo?"

"Whatever you want us to be."

Your fingers instinctively reached out for his, just like they always did when you were anxious. Sensing this, he grasped your hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Soothingly. He massaged the skin of your fingers, distracting you from your nervousness. It seemed like both nothing and everything changed between both of you. The gesture was the same, but so different at the same time.

"Mahal mo ako." It was not a question. It was a statement. A truth—one that you'd been too blind to see before. One that you only discovered while you stared into each other's eyes in that party not as best friends. You realized with a jolt in your heart what he really felt for you, and now, what you really felt for him. In those thirty minutes of silence, you knew. You just knew.

"Yes. I do."

"... Just as a best friend?" you probed.

"..."

Finally, you gazed into his eyes, previously so dark and full of hunger. Now? Just reluctant. Vulnerable. Open. Unsure of what to do next.

Seems like you had to be the one to take initiative tonight. Taking out your phone, you opened your music app and pressed play on a certain song. Ikaw at Ako by Johnoy Danao. You removed your heels (which were starting to blister your ankles and toes), then pulled him up to stand.

"Dance with me," you murmured, grabbing his arms to wrap them around your waist. He was stiff. Tense. What was he to do when the woman he's been pining after for so long let him hold her? All his gallantry and ability to romance disappeared out the window the moment you let him touch you so intimately.

You two weren't even waltzing. Just swaying. Slowly, you leaned your head on his broad chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.

"... I love you," Maliksi admitted in the middle of it all, feeling like he was dreaming. Your head on his chest kept him grounded to reality, however. "More than anything in the universe. I fell for you ever since you patched me up when you were nineteen and I was a reckless drag racer who didn't have a purpose in life. 'Nung dinala mo ako pabalik sa Armanaz Tower on the verge of death. Simula noon, ikaw lang."

"I realized that," you smiled, reminiscing the old memory. You were just a broke college student that time, coming back to your dorm from making your group thesis at a classmate's house. Imagine your panic when you found a half-man, half-horse bleeding out by some bushes on the way home at night. Despite your fear and your little money (only enough to feed you for the week), you went out of your way to buy a first-aid kit at the nearest 7/11. It was scary, but you managed to mend the creature's wounds by the side of the road. When he was finally able to speak, turning fully human (which you admit, freaked you out initially), you arduously carried him back to his address—to his father and his clan, even if you had classes the very next morning. Because of your heroic deed of saving their precious heir, the tikbalang clan had become indebted to you: a teenage girl on the verge of a mental academic breakdown, just making her way through the cruel adult world. How old of a memory that was, you thought, yet you still recalled it in perfect detail. "Just a while ago."

"Ah." He swayed you gently.

"Lahat ng ito, plano mo?"

"... Yes," Maliksi fessed up. "Except for this part where we're here dancing in this belvedere. Wala sa plano ko. Gusto ko sanang magconfess doon sa may fountain para sweet, pero..."

You lifted your head off his chest, smiling at him with one brow raised, "You know, between both of us, you're supposed to be the spontaneous one. Planning isn't usually your thing."

"I know. It's a failure, huh?" Maliksi sighed.

"Nah." You shook your head, then suddenly locked lips with him. It was so fast and surprising he didn't even get the chance to return your first kiss. For once, you caught him off guard. You pecked him on the lips again. "It's not a failure."

"Wha—"

"I'm sorry for making you wait, Maliksi. Ten years. We're twenty-nine now, and only tonight do I realize how blind I've been. We've been going around in circles, wasting so much time. Ayoko nang mag-aksaya ng oras," you whispered guiltily against his lips. How could you have been so blind? Andaming nasayang na taon. Making up your mind, you told him, "Yes. Sige, I accept. I'll be your plus one."

The tikbalang was flustered and baffled from the kiss, as well as your revelation, "... But, you already are?"

"No, silly. I meant that I'll be your plus one for life. For as long as you'll have me," you laughed, now processing that you were currently dancing barefoot with your boy best friend and had just kissed him in a wedding you didn't even plan on going to. The universe had a mysterious way of doing things. "Guess I'm the spontaneous one now, huh?"

Maliksi was tongue-tied. "Seryoso ka ba? Is... Is this a marriage proposal?"

"Whatever you want it to be," you echoed his words back to him. "Best friend, plus one, girlfriend, wife—mmpf!"

He kissed you so hard your lips bruised. After an impromptu makeout session which was definitely more in character for Maliksi, you both pulled away, panting heavily in search for air, still desperate for passion. He cupped your cheeks, giving you a sweet, featherlight Eskimo kiss.

"You're missing one more title."

"Hm? What do you mean, Mal?"

"Love of my life." He kissed you again, this time lifting you off your feet and spinning you around (his sneaky right hand was resting on your bum, too, giving it a tight squeeze). You know in the Princess Diaries where the main character's foot just... pops whenever the prince charming kissed her? Yeah, that happened to you on that humid summer night. This was right. You two were meant to be together. Everything was falling into place.

The bungalow you reserved for your Batangas vacation leave ended up being the site of your very eventful honeymoon with the Prince of the Tikbalang (with his libido, it wasn't that difficult to continue where you'd left off in the garter toss; that scrap of lace came off your leg the same way it went on). Actually, nauna pa ang honeymoon sa actual wedding (it was definitely spontaneous). Right after your confession in that alcove, you two went to Maliksi's father to ask for his blessing (which he gladly gave, cackling and saying that it took you long enough) before you guys went driving off to Batangas that night. You and Mal indeed had lots and lots of fun in that resort (I'll let you imagine the rest). More beautiful memories were made from that point on—this time, not just as best friends.

All that and your small, intimate wedding occurred in early April. Just when you thought that it'd be impossible to fulfill Maliksi's life goal of having a baby within the year (nine months of pregnancy meant that the earliest you'd give birth would be January next year), the impossible happened.

Exactly thirty-two weeks later, on New Year's Eve, the Armanaz herd welcomed one prince and two new princesses into the world. Triplets who were instantly adored by everyone in the clan.

Señor Armanaz had never been happier, and so were you and your husband. Your best friend. The love of your life. Your forever plus one.

Maybe being spontaneous wasn't so bad after all.

Taglist: @belladaises @binibiningbabaylan @4kodzuk3n @sparklingmallow @severuslovebot @holyshxtangel @marinac15 @space-flamingo @pippethealien @kashasenpai @disappointmentpastry @hornehlittleweeblet2 @seijohoe @monimiin @ibelievein2dmensupremacy @tinybonksharkcop @methehipster @banisuoh @genshin-idiot @lemonnie-kimmie

[moon-light-jukebox]

Germs [Reid x Reader]

this gif isn’t mine

Summary: Reader is sure the resident BAU genius doesn’t like her, but she’s not sure why. But even if he did like her, he’s a germaphobe, so he wouldn’t be comfortable with the things she wants to do to him...would he?

Pairing: Spencer Reid / (Female) Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Rating: Mature 

Category: Fluff and Smut 

Content Warning: Brief mentions of torture and violence, usually criminal minds stuff, nothing explicit. Light choking, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, language (maybe?) 

A/n: I have come out of fan fiction writing retirement for this one. Let me know what y’all think!  masterlist

y/n - your name

y/l/n - your last name

italicized text is Reader’s sassy inner thoughts

---

I’m not sure if I believe in hell, but if there is a hell, I’m sure it feels exactly like Louisiana in July. Every time I walked outside I felt like I was walking into soup. Gross. I couldn’t help but feel guilty over my sigh of relief when I walked back into the local precinct the team was currently working out of. Young women are dying, and I’m worried about a little bit of heat.

But, fuck, it was hot.

Speaking of heat, I thought as I threw open the door to the conference room only to run smack into the hottest thing I’d ever encountered.

“Shit,” I exclaimed before I thought better of it. “I’m so sorry.” I ran my eyes up, up, up, all the way up his body until I met his eyes; those beautiful honey brown eyes that threatened to have me acting like an idiot if I stared into them for too long.  

Dr. Spencer Reid’s cheeks were tinged pink, his posture stiff, his fingers clutching the file he was carrying for dear life. “Don’t worry about it, Y/n,” he sounded uncomfortable, which made my stomach drop. “My fault.” With that, he quickly maneuvered around me and headed off to complete whatever genius task he had to complete.

My eyes followed him until he was out of sight before I mentally shook myself. ‘C’mon, this is pointless,’ I thought. ‘He doesn’t even like you.’ Which I really thought was true, the good doctor went out of his way to avoid me whenever possible. ‘Plus, he’s a germaphobe.’ This thought was confirmed true. He didn’t shake people’s hands, the only people I’d seen him touch during my time at the BAU were members of the team that he’d known for years, and some of those even seemed reluctant.

Admittedly, I didn’t know a lot about germaphobia; since I couldn’t ask the only genius I knew, I did the next logical thing. I googled it. Every person I’d read about seemed to experience germaphobia differently. Some people could have sex, but others were grossed out by the very idea. Knowing my luck, Spencer Reid and his beautiful hands, and his soulful eyes, and his cheekbones that could cut glass was in the repulsed by sex category. Which is fine! Right, it is fine to not be interested in sex; the only problem was I was very interested in every part of him.  

Maybe he thinks I’m gross. Maybe I stink? Maybe he’s just repulsed by my very presence. Regardless, I couldn’t see Spencer Reid ever shoving me against a wall and fucking me senseless.

I sighed, making my way over to the conference table, pulling out a chair before I flopped into it. I could feel the exhaustion settling into my bones. We had been in Louisiana for almost a week now and we were still no closer to finding our unsub. He was a white man, he worked in a lower-paying job, and he hated women. Obviously, that didn’t narrow it down much.

The unsub was targeting women in clubs and bars, following them outside before he bashed them on the back of the head. After that, he threw the girls over his shoulder and took them to his car; he moved them to a secondary location before he tortured them. The first two victims had survived. They were traumatized, but they were fighters; they both said the same things, ‘he kept my eyes covered the entire time,’ “I never saw his face,’ ‘I did whatever he told me to do.’

We thought the killing of the third victim had been an accident, but that accident had excited our guy enough that he changed his ritual; the killing was crucial now. We had 4 bodies, 2 live victims that couldn’t tell us anything, and no leads.

Sighing, I leaned forward, bringing the heels of my hands to my eyes. I hated feeling helpless. The answer to who this fucker was is in this evidence somewhere and I will find it. If it’s the last thing I do.

The doors swung open again, pulling me from my thoughts. Hotch lead the parade of people, followed by Morgan, JJ, and Dr. Reid. Our unit chef looked gravely serious…not that that necessarily meant anything, in the 6 months I’d been with the behavioral analysis unit I hadn’t seen him have any other expression.

Morgan pulled out his phone, hitting what I suspected was speed dial number 1. “Hey baby girl,” he said, without his usual swagger; even he was tired. “You’re on speaker. You’ve got me, Hotch, JJ, Reid, and Y/l/n.”

“And I have the always wonderful Emily Prentiss, and the dashing David Rossi on the line, effectively putting my favorite people together again, as they should be,” Garcia quipped. I don’t think she meant to include me in her list of ‘favorite people,’ but it made me smile anyway. “Okay, crime fighters, what’s the play?”

“We’re still no closer to finding the unsub,” Hotch began. “He’s highly organized, methodical, and paranoid; but he hasn’t killed in 3 days, this is a break from his escalation pattern. He’s going to strike soon.” Hotch leaned over resting his palms on the shiny fake wood of the conference table. “Our best chance is to send an agent out there as bait.” There was a general murmur of agreement before he continued on. “Garcia, we need you to find all of the night clubs, bars, and whatever else you can think of in the updated comfort zone.”

The sound of keys clicking made its way through the speaker. “Assuming we’re excluding the places he’s already hit, that leaves us with 3 possibilities.”

“So far he hasn’t struck a place twice,” Prentiss chimed in. “Do we think he’s going to hold to that pattern?”

Reid moved over to the board where the map of the county was displayed. “I think so. This guy is too careful to risk going to a place where he’s been before. The chance of him being recognized is too great, especially when everyone is on high alert.” He gestured to the area he had circled on the map. “His pattern seems to be focusing in on this center point right here,” he said, placing a pin in the map. “This area means something. Garcia, what is the closest club or bar to the intersection of Washington Avenue and Harrison Street?”

“That would beeeeee…The Blue Fox.”

“That’s where he’ll be,” Dr. Reid said confidently, his eyes moving to Hotch’s face.

The older man nodded. “It’s our best lead so far, we have to run with it.”

“It’s Friday night,” Rossi pointed out. “We’ll have to act soon.”

Hotch nodded, seeming to be lost in thought. “We need to send agents in there tonight. We know the victims were all on dates or flirting with a man right before their abduction. He targets women that are happy with their companions then waits til he can separate them.”

“Who are you planning on sending in, Hotch?’ JJ questioned.

“Y/l/n is the youngest, she fits the build of the previous victims the best.” His heavy gaze rested on me. “What do you think?”

Like it was even a choice. “I’m in.”

Hotch nodded, accepting my answer. “Good. You’ll partner with Reid.”

“What?!” I squawked, much to my embarrassment. I cleared my throat before I continued. “But, Reid and I…I just thought Morgan would be the obvious choice.” Fuck, I’m just digging a bigger hole.

Morgan gave me an easy smile. “You’re just saying that because you wanna see my moves, little mama.”

Hotch cleared his throat, bringing our attention back. “Morgan is too intimidating; the unsub might not move in if he feels too threatened. You’ll go with Reid.” When he was met with silence he continued on, “alright, let’s get to work.”

-

And that is how I wound up in a club in Louisiana on a Friday night, in a tight black dress, with Spencer Reid beside me. After he walked into the club holding my hand. He doesn’t hold hands, I cringed internally at the thought. He must feel so uncomfortable.

He waved the bartender over, ordering a drink for me and a water for himself before turning to me. “I thought a drink would loosen you up a bit. You look nervous.”

I am nervous. “Right. Thanks.” I drummed my fingers on the bar, my gaze sweeping around the club for anyone who seemed out of place and especially creepy. Most lone men at clubs and bars were creepy, but we need especially creepy.

“Is that because you don’t think I can have your back?”

My head snapped back around. “What?”

Spencer paused to accept the drinks from the bartender, sliding him the money. “In the conference room. You seemed upset that Morgan wasn’t going to be your partner,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Is that because you think I wouldn’t have your back?”

Fuck. I blushed to the roots of my hair. “No, Spencer! God no! It’s not that, I know you’d have my back.” I took a sip of my drink before I said anything else. “It’s just that…you don’t seem to like me very much, and I know you have a thing about germs, and I thought maybe that’s why you didn’t like me.” I was babbling; I was absolutely babbling. “I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, that’s all. Morgan has never seemed uncomfortable around me, so…” I trailed off lamely.

The corners of his lips quirked up in amusement. “So, you didn’t want to partner with me on this because you didn’t want me to be uncomfortable?”

I nodded, fidgeting with the straw in my drink.

Spencer moved closer to me, his right hand coming to rest on the small of my back. He seemed as calm as he could be, meanwhile I suddenly had trouble breathing.

It’s for the case. He has to do this for the case. Calm down.

"What do my issues with germs have to do with this?" he wondered, leaning closer to me. I could feel his breath on my neck; my skin broke out in goosebumps.

Double fuck. “Well, we’re supposed to be…together. And you think I’m gross. What if you have to kiss me?” TRIPLE FUCK. “Not that we’d have to kiss,” I tried to backpedal. “But we might, you never know. And I just didn’t…I don’t want you to dislike me more than you do.”

The teasing smile slipped from his face, the fingers on my lower back flexing slightly. He regarded me with a tilt of his head. "You're serious?" At my shaky nod, he continued. "Y/n, I don't think you're gross."

“You don’t?” I squeaked.

He lifted his hand from my back then, sliding it up to my shoulder, his free hand moving from the bar to rest on my hip. Spencer brushed my hair back before he leaned forward. Slowly, slowly, slowly, I felt his lips touch the tender skin of my neck. My eyes fluttered shut, unable to suppress a gasp at the contact. Spencer Reid’s beautiful lips slid down to the place where my neck and shoulder met, then I felt his teeth nip the skin before he placed another kiss there. He worked his way back up towards my ear, the hand on my hip moving slightly so he was almost grabbing my ass. “I don’t think you’re gross,” he breathed, causing me to shudder. I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Germs don’t bother me in that way, especially around people I know. I wouldn’t have a problem kissing you, baby.”

I was going to need new panties after this. Spencer Reid, awkward, sweet, Dr. Spencer Reid just called me Baby.

“…Oh.” Really, y/n. Oh; you went with oh?

The good doctor pulled back, his face close enough to mine that I could see that he had freckles under his eyes and that those beautiful eyes got more golden towards the center. "Oh."

-

Michael Watkins was the name of our unsub. He was a short white man with a receding hairline and a bad temper. His last relationship had ended 3 months before the first attack; Spencer was right to pick this bar. Shortly after he tried to make my pussy combust with his neck kisses, Reid suggested I walk to the bathroom, assuring me he’d be watching if anyone followed.

Watkins’ hand was in my hair, dragging me outside before I made it to the ladies’ room. I felt a jolt of fear as I struggled to escape, strands of hair being ripped from my head. I shouldn’t have worried, because no sooner had the outside door opened than I heard the velvety voice of Derek Morgan. “FBI! Put your hands where we can see them.”

He attempted to run. Why would anyone try to run from Derek Morgan?  

After the medics confirmed I was okay, I was sent back to the hotel while the rest of the team went with the local police to book Watkins and try to get a full confession.

“Good work,” Hotch said, his hand clapping down on my shoulder.

The highest praise I’ll ever need.

I hopped into the shower right when I got back to my room, not wanting Watkins’ touch on me for a moment longer.

Spencer’s touch, however,…That was a touch I wouldn’t mind having on me. But he’d barely looked at me once he made it outside. I knew he was being affectionate in there because of the case, we were playing a role. I knew that. I still couldn’t stop the twinge of hurt I felt.

But he doesn’t think I’m gross. That had to count for something.

I had just got done blow drying my hair enough so that it wouldn’t look too crazy when I woke up when there was a knock on my door. Figuring it was Emily, I didn't consider the fact that I was in my pajamas, and my face was scrubbed free of makeup.  

It wasn’t Emily. Spencer Reid stood on the other side of my door, his eyes running down my body before he met my bewildered stare again. “You look comfy,” he commented with that damn little smile on his lips again.

“Oh. Yeah. I took a shower.” Way to go, y/n, you’re really killing it tonight.

“I see that,” he said, his cheeks going a little bit pink. “Can I come in? I thought we should talk.” Was he nervous? Why would he be nervous?

I ushered him in, shutting the door behind him. He sat on the bottom edge of my bed; his body angled towards the headboard. I briefly debated about where to sit before I joined him. Don’t make it weird, y/n.

He cleared his throat before he began. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable tonight. I just wanted to make sure we got the guy.”

Right. “Oh, it’s okay, Spencer. I get it. I wasn’t uncomfortable.” I picked at the frayed edge of my sleep shorts, my eyes dropping so he didn’t see anything on my face that betrayed how I was feeling; you can’t be too careful around profilers.

His hand reached out to cover my own fidgeting hands, one of his hands covering both of mine. His hands were so big. His fingers were so long, the veins in his hands were so pronounced. I bet those fingers would feel really – FOCUS.

“I’m also sorry you thought I didn’t like you.” His thumb had started to move slowly over the back of my hand. “I do like you. I like you a lot, actually. I just…” I brought my gaze back up to meet his eyes. “I just get nervous sometimes.”

“You didn’t seem nervous in the club.”

“No,” he chuckled. “I wasn’t nervous then because it was my job. I wasn’t worried about misreading a signal…doing the wrong thing…I’m not the best with social cues.” I had noticed that about him before. “But I am a really good profiler.” And he’s humble too, apparently.

“I know that you couldn’t fake your reaction to me in the club. Your breathing became quicker, I felt your pulse jump under my lips when they were on your neck. I saw how blown your pupils got." He shifted closer to me then, bringing his other hand up to push my hair behind my shoulder like he did earlier in the night. "Just like they are now."

He leaned closer to me, his voice was lower, and it made my stomach flutter. "You're clenching your thighs together, Y/n. Your shirt may be baggy, but I can see how hard your nipples are too." His tongue ran out to wet his lips. "If I'm wrong, just tell me now. If I've misread this, I will leave right now, and we can pretend this never happened." Spencer brought both his hands up to cradle my face; despite how wet my panties were, how tight my nipples are, how badly I wanted him to touch me, this gesture made me feel special. He was holding me like he actually cared about me like I was precious. "But, if I'm not wrong, and you want this too, Y/n, tell me. Tell me you want this too and I won't stop touching you until you scream my name."

I let out a soft whimper then. Like it’s a choice. “I want this,” I leaned into his touch. “Please, Spencer.”

His thumb brushed over my cheek, his eyes never leaving mine. “Please, what, baby?”

“Kiss me.”

No sooner had the words left my mouth than his lips were on mine. His lips were softer than I imagined, they were firm and almost…questioning. When I nipped at his bottom lip, something seemed to break free inside of him. His lips slanted over mine with a hunger I had never felt. His tongue ran over my bottom lip before I opened for him. Spencer’s tongue moved into my mouth while his hands moved; one hand moved back to grip my hair at the base of my skull, tugging firmly, the other moved down to my neck, not applying any pressure, just resting it there in a gesture that felt possessive.

The need for oxygen broke us apart, his lips moving across my cheek to my jaw, then down to my neck. “How could you think I didn’t like you?” he mumbled into my skin. “You have no idea what you do to me. None.”

I threw my head back when he sucked on my pulse point, a moan ripping from my throat. “W-what…what do I do?”

Pulling back from me, he gripped the bottom of my shirt, looking at me for consent before he pulled it over my head. His eyes were firmly on my chest, his lips parted, his breathing heavy. He pushed me down slowly on the bed; I was on my back and he was hovering over me. I felt his mouth place hot, wet, kisses from my collarbone down towards my breasts. His right hand landed on my breast, his thumb brushing back and forth over my nipple while his lips moved closer and closer to my left. I tangled my hands in his hair, urging him forward.

“You want to know what you do to me?” he raised his head slightly, making sure my eyes were on him when he flicked his tongue over my nipple, causing me to gasp. “What do you do to me in your little skirts, with your little smiles, and your little laughs?” He gave my nipple a sharp pinch. “You’re all I fucking think about, y/n.” With a growl, he finally took my nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his teeth and tongue. He switched to the other breast while he adjusted himself over me, bringing his pelvis down to rest at the seam of my body between my thighs. I shifted restlessly under him, trying to grind my pussy against him. He was so fucking hard.

With a groan, he lifted his head and started kissing his way towards the middle of my chest, moving down to the curve of my stomach. “Do you know how many times I came back to my hotel room after spending all day with you and was so hard I had to cum before I could think of anything else?” he peppered kisses down my body as he spoke.

My eyes shot open at this confession that he seemed to think was no big deal. “What?” I couldn’t believe this. “You…you touched yourself and thought of…”

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts and panties, taking my raised hips as an invitation to remove both from my body. "You. I thought of you." He threw my clothes on the floor, pulling my legs open. His eyes moved over all of me, his Adam's apple bobbing when he swallowed hard. “I thought about kissing you. About making you squirm for me.” He ran his fingers up and down my thighs, his mouth running slowly over my inner thighs. Spencer’s hands hooked around my upper thighs, moving me to where he wanted me. “But, most of all, I thought about this pretty pussy.” He placed a kiss on my clit, chuckling at the wanton moan that came from me and how my fingers tangled in his soft brown curls. “I thought about all the different ways I could make this pretty pussy cum all over me.” With that, he ran his tongue up my slit before flicking it over my clit.

Dr. Spencer Reid was good at everything, so of course, he was good at this too. His mouth moved over me, watching my reaction to see what I liked best. His tongue moved in circles around my clit before slipping down to my opening. His tongue plunged inside me, fucking me, while his thumb came over to rub my clit.

“Spence- fuck- Spencer, please.” My hips tried to shift restlessly, but his arms were iron bars holding me still. He slowly moved his left forearm to rest across my hips, bringing his right hand down to my throbbing pussy. He pulled his mouth away from me, much to my dismay. He pushed one finger, then another into me. My head thrashed wildly, and my thighs started to shake. “Spencer!”

He just smirked and curled his fingers, hitting the spot inside me that made everything in my body pulse. “What, baby?”

My breaths were coming in gasps, my voice was a needy whimper. “Make me cum, Spencer. Please, please make me cum.”

He needed no other encouragement. His fingers continued their steady thrust in and out of me while his mouth covered my clit again. He alternated between flicking my clit with his tongue, then circling it before pulling it into his mouth, sucking lightly.

“Spencer.” I felt my orgasm rising. “Spencer don’t- don’t stop. I’m gonna cum, please make me cum.”

He kept his pace steady, sucking on my clit, moaning at my words. His eyes had been closed, but at that moment they opened and met mine. Then I felt his teeth ghost over my clit, I saw the want in his eyes. That was my undoing. My back arched, my mouth hung open in a silent scream. I heard myself say his name over and over again. Spencer pushed his fingers inside me, massaging me through the most powerful orgasm I had ever had. With one final kiss on my oversensitive clit, he withdrew his fingers, putting them into his mouth to suck my orgasm off of them.

He kissed back up my body, and I tried to respond, but I was still so shattered. I had never felt anything so powerful before. He cupped my face in one hand and kissed me slowly. I returned the kiss, moving my hands to the buttons of his shirt.

Spencer broke the kiss, pulling back to look at me again. “Hang on, baby.” His hand came up to still my own. “We can take a second. It’s okay. Just breathe.”

This beautiful man smiled at me then. I felt my heart flutter when he leaned down to pepper soft kisses along my jaw, his thumb coming up to wipe a tear that fell from the corner of my eye that I hadn’t even noticed.

I don’t know how long we stayed like that. He shifted to lay beside me, whispering reassurances to me while I came back down. This was just one of the ways that Spencer was so different from every other man. I didn't feel rushed, or pressured. I could feel how hard he still was, I could feel the tension in his body, but he simply kissed me while he cupped my jaw.

He made me feel…cherished.

I moved my hands to tangle in his hair again, deepening our kiss. He didn’t move my hands away when I started to work on the buttons of his shirt. The fire that I thought had been calmed by my orgasm had come roaring back. Spencer moved his hands to his belt while I finished with his shirt. His shirt came off, tossed in the same direction as my clothes. I pulled his pants and boxers down his legs, watching his cock spring free.

Everything about him was painfully beautiful. His angular cheekbones, the jaw that looked like it was carved from granite, even the toned muscles of his body. He had a small trail of hair that went down from his belly button to his groin. His cock laid against his stomach, the head glistening with precum.

“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, kneeling beside him, running my eyes over his body.

His soft hand came to grab mine, pulling it to his lips. He kissed the back of my hand, smiling softly at me.

I moved to straddle him, lower on his thighs. I took him in my hand, moving up and down, twisting my wrist as I neared the tip, swiping my thumb over his head.

“Baby,” he groaned. “Y/n, as much as I want you to do…whatever the fuck you want with me, I’m so close. I feel like I’m going to explode.” I bit into my bottom lip, unable to totally stop the smile spreading over my face. “Please, I need to feel your pussy wrapped around my cock.” He moved his hands to my hips, urging my body forward.

I raised up on my knees, taking him in my hand again, lining him up with my entrance. The tendons in his neck were strained, his fingers gripped my hips so hard I knew I was going to have bruises tomorrow. As I slowly started to sink down on his cock, Spencer let out the sexiest groan I had ever heard. His eyes were fixed where our bodies were joined, watching his dick slid deeper inside of me.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered. “You’re doing so good. Just a little bit more.”

He was so long, he wasn't overly thick, but just thick enough to cause a pleasurable stretching when he breached me that was almost painful. I gasped out a sound that might have been his name when he bottomed out inside me. I slowly circled my hips, adjusting to him. Spencer’s nails dug into my hips as he forced himself to stay still.

“Please move, y/n. Please. You’re so fucking tight.” He groaned as my walls fluttered around him. “Do you like it when I talk to you? Does that make your pretty pussy wetter?” He smirked at my whimper as I tightened around him.

I began at a slower pace, trying to tease him. Spencer quickly lost patience with that; he thrust his hips upwards, meeting my movements, his hands pushing me down onto him. I leaned forward, bracing on hand on his shoulder, the other on the bed. He pounded into me while I tried to match his pace. Spencer’s hand moved from my hip up to wrap around my throat. I nodded, forcing my eyes to stay open as he moved inside me.

His fingers squeezed slightly, pulling my face closer to his. Our lips met in a sloppy kiss. My thighs burned from matching his movements. “You feel so fucking good, y/n.” His grip on my neck tightened ever so slightly, which only heightened my arousal. “I want to feel you cum on my cock. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”

He flipped us over quickly, never pulling completely out of me. Spencer moved to push my legs further apart, the change in angle allowing him to fill me deeper than I thought possible. His hair was sticking to his brow, his cheeks were flushed, his breathing erratic. He was the most fucking beautiful thing I had ever seen.

One hand held my leg, the other went down to my pussy, his thumb moving over my clit at a rapid pace. “Tell me what you need, Pretty Girl. Tell me how to make this pretty pussy cum all over me.”

I whined at his words. “Spencer, I-“ my voice broke off. I was so fucking close. "I need you." He seemed to understand my broken plea. He brought his body down, his chest flush against mine. He rocked into me at such a fast and hard pace. His hand still in between us rubbing circles around my clit.  

I felt his lips ghost over my ear. “I want to fucking hear you, y/n.” His speed increased, his thrust getting choppier. He was close. “I want this whole fucking town to hear what you sound like when I make you cum. When you cream all over my dick, I want you to scream my name.” With that, he moved his mouth down my neck. He bit the same tender area he had kissed in the club, where my neck met my shoulder.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck yes, Spencer!" I felt myself begin to splinter apart. “Please make me cum, fuck please.” My babbling finally broke as my orgasm tore through me. I couldn’t hear his deep groan when I came, my scream was too loud. I felt the vibration against my neck. It was only as I started to float down that I realized my nails were dug into his back. With a few last thrust and my name on his lips, I felt Spencer pulse, cumming inside me.

We lay there for a few minutes, just breathing before he rolled off of me. I felt overwhelmed, so I was relieved when he tugged me over to him. He wrapped his arm around me when I laid my head on his chest. I felt his lips on my forehead. “It’s very important for women to urinate after sexual intercourse to avoid UTIs, but you have another minute or so before that becomes more urgent.”

I couldn’t control my laugh at his comment. "Thanks, Doc." I kissed his chest. "Only you could make me cum so hard I almost blackout, then go back to being…you." I slowly untangled myself from him, going to the bathroom to handle business. When I returned, I found Spencer where I left him, his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, one hand resting behind his head, the other over his heart. He looked so lost in that moment.

“Spencer?” I asked, crawling on to the bed. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t pretend that something wasn’t bothering him. “When you said that I just go back to being me…Do you not like that?”

My heart broke a tiny bit at the question. “Spencer, no! I love that! I love your little facts and statistics!” How did he not know that? “The best part of my day is listening to you talk. Just being with you is wonderful.” I cupped his face, bringing his gaze to mine. “Sure, I like what we just did; but I liked you before that. I want both.” Fuck. “Assuming you want me,” I rambled quickly. “This doesn’t have to mean anything, I know that it doesn’t always-“

He cut me off by pressing his lips to mine in the sweetest kiss I had ever felt. It was filled with hope and promise and…Spencer.

“It means everything to me, Y/n.”

-

I didn’t see the rest of the team until the next morning when we all boarded the jet; I was so ready to go home. I personally didn’t think anything appeared that different. Spencer sat beside me on the couch, but that wasn’t weird…right? We were just co-workers, sitting beside each other super casually. Had we spent most of last night and a little bit of this morning screwing each other’s brains out? Certainly. But you couldn’t see that…right?

Morgan’s chuckle is what confirmed I was so wrong. “Hey, y/l/n,” he called, smiling so hard it looked like his face would split from his amusement. “You missed a spot.” He pointed towards his own neck.

There was a beat of silence before Hotch snorted. SSA Aaron Hotchner, the man who never found anything funny was laughing at me.

I felt myself turn tomato red, angling my body towards Spencer’s, burying my head against his shoulder, away from the rest of the team.

“I bet you’re glad pretty boy was your partner now, huh?”

I may have wanted to melt into the floor in embarrassment, but it was sort of worth it to see the blush on Spencer’s cheeks.

--

[taechaos]

Freaky Idea

Pt. 2 of New Idea

pairing: Stepbrother!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

genre: oneshot, pseudo-incest, smut

synopsis: The last guaranteed day you have with Taehyung is spent with his choice of adventure. You learn a lot of things about the history of freakshows, and how much of a freak your brother is as well.

warnings: mention of murder and somnophilia, riding, manipulation

word count: 3.8k

When Taehyung agreed to being your slave for a month, he wasn’t lying. He was attached to your hip throughout the whole time span, obeying your every command without complaint. You didn’t deem him forgiven, but you can’t say you don’t enjoy his company and compliance. The whole month was a bliss for you.

The first week, the morning after the… event, you had him prepare breakfast for you and your mother walked in on him cooking an omelette for you. She was perplexed, and with her morning drowsiness asked, “You’re home?” before smothering him with a hug. Your father gave him the minimum acknowledgement, and it went by quickly with your mother being surprised every time she saw him in the morning.

The second week, he drove you around and paid for your every need. You don’t know how he has so much money, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he sells drugs or had robbed a bank. You decided to reward him by kissing his cheek every time he bought you clothes and jewelries per your request. He realized he enjoyed spoiling you, and took you shopping in different malls for 7 days straight.

The third week, you met his friend. You had insisted, and he gave in after a short while of you begging because it was difficult to say no to you and rules are rules. His terms were: 1. You're going to act like his girlfriend, and 2. You sit on his lap. Maybe you didn't get it, but his friend Namjoon didn't seem dangerous enough for you to be behaving the way you were forced to. Sitting in front of a burning barrel in the middle of nowhere, Taehyung and Namjoon smoked weed together while you watched them. The conversation was fun, and you wanted to see him again. Taehyung didn’t allow you to question the ordeal. Rest of the week went by a breeze.

Fourth week was relatively calm as well, and now Taehyung is on his final day of slavery. It’s somewhat melancholic for you because you don’t know if he’ll vanish once the clock hits 12. You’re sitting on the kitchen counter, swinging your dangling legs while your step-brother inspects the fridge to find you something for lunch. The two of you woke up late this morning, well, afternoon, and you don’t know why you feel so exhausted and sore. You’ve been feeling this way for a whole month now, but you’re growing somewhat used to it. 

“This bitch is empty,” Taehyung grumbles before closing the fridge and standing up straight. When he notices your soft pout, he slithers his way between your legs. “What’s wrong princess? Are you tired?”

“Will you be here tomorrow?” you blurt without beating around the bush and peek at him under your lashes.

His brow ticks as he tilts his head. “Did you want to do something?”

“Well, no,” you drawl, “I just wish… you were here more often.”

"You know I can't stay away from you for long," he counters your worries, "especially if you allowed me to…"

"Stop." You distance yourself by pushing him away; you don't want to think about what he was implying. You made it explicitly clear that anything remotely sexual wasn't allowed to be brought up when you were around, and he’s been sticking to that rule until now - to your knowledge, at least. 

“Stop teasing your sister, Taehyung.” your mother enters the kitchen while tying the knot of her robe, now checking the fridge herself. 

He rolls his eyes before turning to her and retaliating, “I didn’t even do anything.” You giggle to yourself and bite your fist. “Did I tease you?” he asks innocently with his neck craned in your direction.

“Yes, he doesn’t even make me breakfast,” you joke with a grin. 

“The fridge is fucking empty!”

“Language,” your mother warns strictly before taking out a box of frozen pizza. “And it isn’t empty. Could you turn on the oven for me, love?” You nod and arrange the heat to 200 degrees while Taehyung scoffs, “I can’t survive in a house with women.”

“Man up,” your step-father butts in monotonously. “You have to rely on your mother to cook to this day. When will you move out? Act your age Taehyung, you’re 21.”

The light-hearted atmosphere dims with the presence of Taehyung’s father. There’s a distinct contrast between your two parents, and you can understand why your step-brother is so rebellious around them. The only thing holding them together is their dedication to religion. 

He only huffs and crosses his arms in response as his dad grabs a carton of juice and a glass from the cupboard. It’s tense in the room until Taehyung leans into your ear and whispers, “I’m only here because of you.”

A light blush tints your cheeks at his sweet confession, although it also makes you guilty. He later convinces you to eat with him in your room, and it’s comfortable in your bed as you chomp on the slices hungrily. 

“Is there anything you want to do today?” Taehyung asks as he chews on his pizza.

“Let’s do something you want for a change,” you answer after swallowing. 

Though he hasn’t been showing any lack of interest around you, you are aware that you haven’t been doing anything fun by his definition. You’re worried that you’ve bored him throughout this whole timespan of being together.

A smirk grows on his face and there’s that glint of mischief in his eyes that you’ve missed. Fair, the last time you saw it was before he traumatized you, but you try not to think about it much like you ignore the constant ache between your legs. 

“There’s this circus,” he begins slowly, “I hear it’s interesting. Would you want to come with?”

You know he’s leaving something out, his cautious tone and aura implicit he knows something you don’t. But you nod anyway, because you still stupidly trust him.

Taehyung’s car is old and retro, but he must have upgraded the engines for how fast he is driving. You like admiring his side profile as he holds the steering wheel, but the view is much more interesting when he catches you looking. It’s a far location, and you’re out of the city by the time he parks his car in the woods. How did he memorize the directions when it took an hour to get there?

“We’re here,” he announces before shifting the manual stick gear with a screech. You exit the car and he is not gentle with the way he slams the door closed, so you do the same. You can see hints of red colors between the cracks of the thin trees. 

“Is it open?” you question apprehensively. The sun hasn’t set yet, but it should be getting dark soon in the evening. 

“Hasn’t been open for a century. You wouldn’t believe the amount of history this place has.”

He takes the lead in his steps, and you follow behind though your gut doesn’t approve. The path isn’t long, and only then do you see the circus when Taehyung moves aside. It’s run down, worn out colors in the curtains, broken glasses on the ground and the circus barely holding itself up. There’s a huge cannon in the middle of the stage, the tip balancing itself on the ground. It’s kind of creepy, but Taehyung doesn’t leave you in the dark for long.

“A lot of crazy shit happened here, you know,” he piques your curiosity, “the clowns were fucking freaks. Any type of physical disorder landed you in here, whether you liked it or not. Even for babies,” he picks up an idle shard of glass, “these were jars. They had deformed fetuses on display on a stand, but the wind must have fucked it up.”

“Deformed fetuses?”

“Yeah, like, conjoined and some other stuff.” You grimace at his description, although it stirs empathy in you. The 20th century sounds inhumane. 

“Are these real stories?” 

“Yeah. And the cannon: they rocketed people from this very bad boy,” he points at it before standing under.

Your stomach sinks as you panic, “It could fall on you!” You pull at his hand and the force makes your chests meet. He smiles down at you before pecking your lips. You stammer, a little mad as he chuckles before walking to a wooden wheel. He makes a star pose after stepping on the metal stand, stretching out his limbs to fit the whole circle. 

“This was the Wheel of Death; they threw knives at targets on this. I think they only targeted females actually...” He nods at you to replace him as he hops off. You go along with his idea and climb on the stand, though it creaks weakly. He takes out a pocket knife from his pocket and you’re about to yell before he hurls it at you. It lands above your shoulder and you immediately scold, “What the fuck, Tae?! Why would you do that! I could’ve died.”

He shrugs with a bright grin, clearly unbothered by your stressing. “My aim isn’t too bad.” He walks over to you and collects his floating knife. “Besides, when have I ever hurt you?”

You bite your tongue and purse your lips with a glare. 

“See?” he whispers. “You can’t even name one time…”

He’s teasing your silence, how you can’t even dare to voice the specific night. You haven’t even told your parents and slept with him right after, and he finds that so interesting: that you trust him with your life. 

“You actually can’t? Wow, I didn’t realize I was such a good brother,” he grins lopsidedly before snapping his fingers. “On with the tour.” He is enthusiastic as he struts past the circus. You shake your head with a sigh but follow him regardless. “So there were sword swallowers, acrobats, strongmen, anything that drew attention. They had a shit ton of accidents and deaths, but you would die if you got boring as well.” Taehyung holds back a bush to let you pass; the place he’s leading you to is a lot more crowded with sages and trees than the previous path. “Once the initial attraction wears off, you’re a goner. They couldn’t survive in that society with those deformities, so it was suicide either way.”

“That is so cruel,” you mumble sympathetically. “This place was like a fractured fantasy.”

“At least they lived for a bit… up until someone ended it.” When he pushes away the woodruffs, you’re met with another rundown site with a few… cages? “This is the trailer. Where they stayed and got ready for their shows. Some were held against their will, and slept with the animals in those cages.”

You gape at your surroundings in shock. The trailer is missing one side of the wall, and the rest have been vandalized with random phrases written in spray paint. You don’t give much attention to the torture cages, because the trailer has a lot more to show. It still has couches on the incomplete hardwood flooring, and Taehyung plops on one. The fabric is torn and dust rises the moment he’s on the seat. “That’s so dirty, Tae,” you pull a displeased face.

“Don’t be rude to the past occupants. Their ghosts might still be around.” He wiggles his fingers as if imitating a monster. He then pats his thighs, beckoning you to sit on his lap. You begrudgingly do so, and he wraps his arms around your waist before pulling you flush against him. “Any theories on how this shitshow ended?”

“Police intervention?”

“Something like that, I guess. One of the acrobats went nuts and shot everyone, so the place was shut down.”

“What?” you widen your eyes at him. “Why did they do that?”

“He was going to be replaced, so he got rid of the competition. Very chilling,” he casually states. “There must be some bullet holes in the walls, but we can check that out later.” His head snuggles into your neck while you’re still processing his words, but you go blank when he starts leaving feather light kisses on your neck. “Right now,” he murmurs, “I just want you to ride me.”

“Ride you?”

“Don’t act innocent, you know what I mean. You said I could choose what we did today… and I want to fuck here.”

“Taehyung… I specifically told you we aren’t allowed to do anything sexual. You hurt me last time as well,” you frown at the mention. 

“I asked you if I ever hurt you earlier. Did you say anything?” he asks condescendingly.

“No…”

“Why are you saying I hurt you now? Don’t tell lies, baby. Besides,” his hand slides down to your thigh as he speaks in a low, sultry voice, “I’ve been loosening up your cunt. You don’t even wake up at night anymore. It won’t hurt this time, I promise.”

You had an inkling, the stupid inkling that you tried so damn hard to brush aside. “You fucked me in my sleep?” you force out, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. “And you brought me here just to–”

“Christ, no,” he cuts you off offendedly, “I’m not that sick in the head. I didn’t plan it, but I can’t say I wasn’t hoping. It’s not like I’m going to rape you.”

“You did it once!”

“I was on a lot of drugs then! I’m clean now,” he huffs in irritation. “I’m sorry about that, and I know my apology is long overdue or whatever, but give me a break. I’ve been into you since I was like 16.”

You turn to look at him - really look at him. There’s not a trace of guilt on his face; the roots of his messy teal hair have grown out; the beauty of his naturally downward lip corners; you don’t know what to think. Your mind is a mess because you don’t know what to make of his confession. He has manipulated you countless times, coerced you into doing things you would never do, and for once you reflect on his personality. This could be one of his schemes in order to get you to do what he wants, and ironically, he was supposed to be doing that for you. Through all of your scrambled thoughts, you only muster a meek “really?”

“Yes,” he affirms, “that’s why I want to be intimate with you.”

Lies, lies, lies, you think before gently pressing your lips against his. Despite your attempt at kissing him softly, he doesn’t cooperate by instantly sucking on your nether lip with vigor, his hands immediately meeting at your hips to gently rock them against his crotch. He bites your lip before swiping his tongue against it, coaxing, “Suck on my tongue.” The awkward angle from where you’re kissing him makes him turn your body to completely face him, your knees landing on either side of him on the uncomfortable chair. It doesn’t matter, because you’re starting to forget the whole setting, just about everything except for him as arousal begins to seep in. Heat pools in your stomach at the switch in mood, and he’s enjoying your compliance as he quietly moans into your mouth. 

While you’re busy relishing in his swirling tongue, he starts tugging down your pants and you help him without looking. You sit up to push it down your ankles and throw it on the floor along with your panties. “What’s gotten into you?” he chuckles breathlessly before leaving wet kisses on your lips and pulling away to take off his wrinkled shirt. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, equally breathless.

“I don’t know, you’re just… so hot when you’re horny.” His boyish smile grows on your flustered face as he says, “Take off your shirt. Wanna see those pretty tits again.”

You bite your lip to suppress your insecurities, but it doesn’t help when you’re left in your bra as you cover your chest. “Don’t be shy now,” he teases knowingly and removes your arms before unclasping the garment. “Take out my cock now.” His tone is gentle with encouragement. You unzip his jeans timidly, but your eyes grow in wonder at the outline of his erection. “I’m so hard for you,” he assures you in a whisper and takes your hand in his to rub himself. “You’re so pretty, and sexy. I fucked you every night because you’re just so irresistible. You understand, don’t you, baby?” 

“I… Yes,” you agree and finally push down his briefs. His throbbing cock stands proudly and you’re intimidated by the size until he murmurs, “I won’t hurt you.” He lightly touches your bare pussy, slick with your arousal as you shudder. He coats your vulva with all of it, giving special attention to your clenching hole as he inserts a single finger. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head, and you’re confused by the lack of pain and the desire for more. It feels good and that is a surprise for you as you sink down lower on his finger. He curls it, adds another finger and stretches your walls, emitting a moan out of you. You’re liking it, and you don’t know why; he was so cruel the last time that you were convinced something would go wrong now. Nothing does, and if anything, his fingers make you feel the best you have ever felt though it is not enough. “More,” you beg and he replaces his fingers by pulling you to the head of his cock. He’s staring right at you with hooded lids as he rubs it up and down, making you release a needy whimper. “Please, Taehyung.”

And like the slave he was meant to be, he shoves it in with a grunt. Your scream catches in your throat at the initial sting, but it’s worth it when he screws his eyes shut in pleasure and bites his lip to hold back a groan. He looks angelic under you, although he is anything but. You realize he is waiting for your cue to move, and it flutters your hearts because he is more attentive to you this time. Rather than letting him take the lead, you act on your instincts as you roll your hips. It’s unsteady at first, the foreign position making it difficult for you to adapt to so fast. His audible quick breaths encourage you to take your time in angling your pelvis comfortably, and when an involuntary moan leaves you, you place your hands on his shoulders before sticking to the current stance and going up and down on him. 

“Oh shit, you’re doing so well,” he praises you between gasps, supporting your body with his hands, “feels so fucking good. My good girl.”

It gets to your head, how much he’s enjoying your motions. He meets them with thrusts of his own, perfectly hitting your cervix and blinding you with pleasure. What is it that makes you feel so wonderful in this situation? Is it the touch, or the complimentary fact that you’re the only person Taehyung wouldn’t get bored of? 

Could it be that you’re two of the same?

Maybe he’s the one desperate to please you, you think as he massages your breasts, flicking your hard nipples with his thumbs so graciously. The eerie silence is broken by both of your loud moans, ecstasy sensually building up in knots in your stomachs. Sweat accumulates on your forehead, your hair sticking to your face but not hiding the sight of his erotic expression. You arch your back and grind down on him, and he’s limp on the loveseat as he takes all that you give him so submissively.

It’s your turn to use him, and you actually start understanding what makes him so rash and impulsive in hopes of receiving this amount of serotonin. It’s worth it, the release of control and morals to be with him. “Taehyung, h-how did you do it?” you moan. “Every night, what did you do?”

“I,” he tries to catch his breath, “I used my fingers to stretch you out. One finger, then two, then three.” He groans and thrusts into you fast and hard, “I fisted you at some point, and you came in your sleep, and then on my cock. Moaning and whining every fucking night, like some filthy whore.” You mewl at his crude words. He’s so obscene with you, and you clench your walls in response. “You like being my whore, hm? Little freak.”

“Yes, yes,” you confirm in a whimper, nodding your head as you pass the dominance onto him. He’s fucking into you while you stand on your knees, eyes rolled back with drool about to drip from the corner of your mouth. He starts to rub your clit and kisses your neck for you to tighten around him over and over again; it’s heaven in an empty graveyard. It’s so fucked up, yet he can’t stop. You’re panting as he manipulates your body to mold with his. “I’m close.”

His hands fall on your ass, greedily kneading it as your hips begin to stutter, your orgasm climbing up just as your energy is falling down. It hits you like a truck: the peak of pleasure, accompanied by a silent scream, nails digging into his skin as your muscles tense. “Fuck,” you breathe once his thrusts begin overstimulating you, but it’s not for long as he shoots his load inside you with a groan. He’s twitching as his erection becomes flaccid, and you feel it as he pulls out. 

“Bet it didn’t hurt,” he jokes while you recover from your climax. You’re leaking with his cum and he uses his shirt to wipe you clean, making you shake from how sensitive you are. “I’ll buy you the pill on the way home.”

“Thanks,” you plainly say and stand up to pick up your clothes. You’re trembling slightly and a little achy, but it’s nothing compared to losing your virginity. 

“What? You gonna give me the cold shoulder now?” He’s only in his loose pants and has his shirt thrown over his shoulder. He buckles his belt while you put on your bra. 

“Why did you make us act like a couple in front of Namjoon?” After hearing his confession, the interaction before bugs you.

“What do you mean?”

“Is it because you didn’t want him to think I was single? Because you like me?”

“No, he’s a convicted felon. Crazy motherfucker killed his ex’s new boyfriend,” he reveals with a scoff. “Besides, if you like me, you’d like him as well.”

Putting your shock aside, you realize one thing: Taehyung doesn’t want to be replaced. Does that mean you hold power over him? Or will he do anything at any cost to be in your life?  Regardless of your internal monologue, you only reply with, “who says I like you?”

It’s a joke, and he knows it. As promised, he buys you an emergency pill and another shirt for himself on the way home. His days of slavery are over, and you wonder: where will he be tomorrow? Maybe take his father’s advice… 

[makeste]

some follow-up thoughts on BnHA 306

mostly Deku angst, but also a little Baku angst (and some TodoBaku angst) mixed in for good measure. because there’s plenty of angst to go around.

1. “if I’d only been stronger...”

I’ll talk more about Deku later in this post as well, because there’s definitely plenty to talk about; this is the most character development he’s gotten in almost 200 chapters. but for starters, I want to discuss the possible parallels between Deku’s current character arc, and what is arguably the most iconic moment of angst/character development in the series.

remember how this kid, who up until this point had rarely seemed to give two fucks about the world around him, suddenly revealed that he blamed himself for being the downfall of All Might? remember how it came almost out of nowhere? how he’d been hiding it, and trying to suppress it? “but even if I try to forget... sometimes it all just comes rushing back.”

yeah. so anyway, I got to thinking -- if being the cause of one hero’s downfall could affect someone this badly, what about being responsible for the downfall of all heroes?

what if a boy who wanted nothing more than to keep people safe suddenly found himself at the epicenter of a disaster that killed hundreds, possibly even thousands of people?

now obviously, this is not the sole thing that’s troubling Deku right now; this kid has a whole array of traumas as of the War arc. like, you know it’s bad when Society As We Know It Coming To An End Partially Because Of You is the least of your problems. but still, I think this is worth bringing up, because the hero kids blaming themselves for things that aren’t their fault is hardly anything new. and yet, what with everything else that’s been going on -- all of the Todoroki drama, and Vestige revelations, and hospital antics, and political strife -- I feel like it’s easy to forget or overlook this little detail.

the fact is that AFO put this entire plan into motion solely in the hopes of finally obtaining OFA. every single thing that happened at Jakku -- Tomura powering up; Machia waking up and going on his rampage (after being ordered to do so by Tomura); and even Dabi/Touya choosing this moment to finally strike (because he knew this was when the reveal would do the maximum damage -- when people’s faith in heroes was already wavering) -- every last bit of it can ultimately be traced back to AFO’s desire to steal OFA. which, obviously, makes it AFO’s fault, not Deku’s. but then, Kamino wasn’t actually Katsuki’s fault either. it wasn’t his fault the villains went after him (but he blamed himself anyway), and it wasn’t his fault that people got hurt in the ensuing battle to save him (but he blamed himself anyway).

just. I think we’re underestimating just how strong of an impact all of this likely had on Deku. we haven’t really had the chance to see him process it yet. he’s been too busy, and there have been too many other things going on. but I’m telling you guys, that empty look in his eyes in the final page of the chapter? I can all but guarantee you that at least some of that emotional weight is coming from this.

sure would be nice if he had a friend who knew exactly what that was like, and could help him process the guilt and all of the other associated emotions, just like Deku once helped him. unfortunately I’m not so sure things will be that easy this time around. anyways though let’s move on to a couple of other thoughts and speculations.

2. “...and I bullied him.”

one of my least-favorite BnHA fanfic tropes is the one where the rest of class 1-A somehow finds out about Katsuki and Deku’s history -- i.e. that Katsuki bullied Deku throughout most of their childhood. mind you, it’s not the concept itself that I dislike; it’s mostly how it’s used. a lot of times it’s just an excuse to have all of the other kids turn on Katsuki and ostracize him; either because the author thinks that’s what he deserves, or else so that Deku can eventually come to his rescue and defend him and shame the rest of the class for not seeing how much he’s changed. either way, it’s usually pretty awkward to read, and more often than not the characters are pretty OOC (especially Ochako and Todoroki).

however! there’s a big difference between fanfic and canon, and just because I’m not a fan of this trope in the former doesn’t mean it couldn’t be executed well in the latter. and lately I’ve been thinking about this a lot. mainly for three reasons:

the recent (can we still call it recent?? well whatever) scene where Katsuki confessed to All Might that he used to bully Deku is now one of my favorite scenes in the entire series, and proof that this can be executed well.

both Todoroki and Deku have finally had their respective big secrets revealed to the rest of the class. so like, idk. feels like it just might be secret-revealing season now, you know?

and lastly, as a result of Deku’s secret about OFA finally being revealed, the rest of 1-A now either knows, or can extrapolate, that he used to be quirkless.

and from there, I feel like it’s not all that hard to put two and two together with how terrible Kacchan and Deku’s relationship was when they first started at UA. that’s not a terribly difficult puzzle to solve. so I feel like it might come out anyway, and if so, I’d prefer Bakugou telling them himself, and taking responsibility as part of his atonement process. because we know that he regrets it. we know their relationship has changed. we know that he has changed. and so I think I might like to see this.

alternately, if confessing to the entire class is too much, at the very least I could see him confessing to Shouto, because I’ve always felt like this was one of the big things that made Katsuki so resistant to letting Todoroki call him a friend. because I feel like there’s a part of Katsuki that saw the parallels between Endeavor’s abuse of Shouto and his own bullying of Deku, and thought, he wouldn’t be so quick to call me his friend if he actually knew the truth. and so there’s actually been this roadblock wedged between them this whole time that Shouto doesn’t even know about. because Shouto hates Endeavor. and so it’s not such a leap to assume he’d hate Katsuki too if he knew just how terrible he’d been to Deku when they were younger.

not that I think he actually would! actually I don’t think either of those things is actually true (because Shouto clearly doesn’t hate his father either, in spite of everything that’s happened). but the point isn’t what I think -- the point is what Katsuki thinks. and I really do think there’s a good chance he’s worried about Shouto hating him, and it’s one of the things that’s made him so reluctant to accept his friendship. anyway, so I’m really just rambling now, but you get my point. I don’t know if this is actually going to happen, but it’s a scene I would like to see if Horikoshi decides to indulge me.

3. “...so when you wake up, please give him my best.”

and now, as promised, back to Deku.

ngl guys, when I first saw this image, my immediate thought was that Gran must have died. because I mean, hello, leaving U.A.?? donning himself in his teacher’s old cape?? empty, exhausted look in his eyes?? what else were we supposed to think lol.

but maybe that was an overreaction. because when I think about it more, Gran’s death isn’t strictly necessary in order to push Deku over the edge. first of all, there’s already the whole “hero society is in ruins now because of you” thing I mentioned earlier. but also, there are just so many other things. like, let’s just list them here because omg. what a rough couple of days this kid had.

he was forced to battle TomurAFO and was terribly injured in the process (most of which was his own fault, but he wouldn’t have gone that far with OFA unless he felt like he had no choice)

and it wasn’t just him that was injured, either. in fact, even though he tried to act as bait to keep everyone else safe, he wasn’t able to stop three of the people closest to him from nearly being killed right before his eyes

and of course that last one was especially traumatic, because it was Kacchan, and because he had to watch Kacchan nearly die just to protect him. out of all the things that Deku witnessed in this arc, this might be the one that had the biggest impact on him

he was also basically helpless to do anything to protect Shouto and Endeavor when Dabi showed up. so again, we have this running theme of people he cares about being hurt and him not being able to save them

and he also got sucked into the OFA Interstellar Dream Vortex for a brief spell during the battle, during which he learned that AFO had possessed Tomura. more importantly, he learned that Tomura was Nana’s grandson, a fact which was only briefly touched on during that scene, but which I think wound up being the trigger to the whole avalanche that ended with Deku leaving UA. but more on that in a moment

anyway so just to wrap this all up, the battle eventually ended, Tomura got away despite all of their efforts, and then Deku wound up comatose in the hospital for two days. which brings us to the most recent chapters, during which

Deku learns that he will be the last wielder of OFA, whether he likes or not

Deku learns the identity of the last two mystery OFA users

and then at some point, he wakes up and presumably talks to Gran, and winds up with his cape

something happened during these last two scenes which helped to push Deku over the edge. I won’t delve into the matter of the Second or Third users for now, although most of you already know my suspicions regarding that, and I do think that would fit into the general pattern here (that is, the pattern of Deku feeling more and more strongly that he is putting the people around him in danger, and his fear of losing them becoming so overwhelming that it eventually pushes him to leave).

but that’s not what I want to talk about for now. what I want to talk about is Gran. specifically, what it is that Deku discussed with Gran. and this is where we come back to that reveal I mentioned earlier -- that Tomura is Nana’s grandchild.

basically, what I think happened is that Deku mentioned seeing Nana in the OFA Zany Psychedelic Spirit Void, which led to the topic of Tomura, and the fun fact Deku recently learned about him being related to Nana. this, in turn leads to Gran divulging his various regrets about everything that happened with him and Nana and Kotarou. his intent is to apologize to Deku for placing the burden of their failures on him. unfortunately, the part that Deku actually gets fixated on instead is this:

All for One hunted down and killed Nana’s son (and probably her husband as well), and stole her grandchild and psychologically tortured him into becoming a mass murderer, for no other reason than that Nana had once held OFA

in other words, AFO can and will hurt and kill anyone Deku is close to, anyone who has any kind of connection to him at all, without mercy, and regardless of whether it actually gives him any kind of tactical advantage or not. he’ll do it simply to hurt him. no other reason necessary.

I don’t know about you, but for me that would be a terrifying realization. and for Deku, I think it just might have been the tipping point.

so, let’s recap.

Deku learns that AFO is after him

AFO/Tomura very nearly kills several of Deku’s most important people, including Kacchan

and then he learns that this is just the tip of the iceberg, and realizes that all of their lives are still in danger and will continue to be as long as Deku is AFO’s target

and then add to all of this the misplaced guilt about society already being shambles, and the heroes already having more than enough to worry about. they’re barely holding things together as it is. and we already know how Deku feels about being a burden to them:

and so instead, he leaves. of course he does. in hindsight, I think this was inevitable.

the question is, did anyone else also put the pieces together in time to realize what Deku was planning before he actually left? specifically, did Katsuki, who understands Deku’s self-sacrificial nature better than anyone else, see the signs and put two and two together? like he did back at Jakku?

and if he did, would Deku have been willing to accept his help again?

somehow, I can’t help but think it might not be that easy this time.

anyway, so that was a lot of rambling, lol. sorry about that. I JUST HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS about all of this angsty shit. tired nomad Deku needs hugs and comfort and someone to reassure him that he doesn’t have to face this alone, and that everything is going to be all right. HE IS JUST A LITTLE BOY. this is too much, and I cannot handle any of these feels, and oh my god, somebody please help him.

[reidgraygubler]

look at my son (spencer reid/reader)

Title: look at my son 

Request: no

Couple: dad!spencer reid/fem!reader

Category: fluff w/ a side of angst

Content Warning: spencer’s pov, mentions of an absent father, mentions of child birth, crying, anxieties about parenthood, new parents, talks about spencer’s past (prison, addiction, kidnapping), brief mentions about past suicidal thoughts, mentions of drugs (Dilaudid) and needles

Word Count: 3,957

Summary: spencer has a heart to heart with his newborn son while his wife sleeps.

A/N: totally based on dear theodosa from the hamilton soundtrack. I am not afraid to say that. Definitely big feels happening and there’s no regrets. this is possibly my favorite thing i’ve ever written. my best friend said it was soft and adorable, and so sweet she needed a dentist. i love it so much.  thank you all so much for the love and support! check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

“Go to sleep, please, you need rest,” I whispered as I looked down at my overly-exhausted wife. Although her face was looking up at me, her eyes were somewhere else. They were on a small figure just to the left of me. Her eyes had a certain glossiness over them, and it was most certainly from her exhaustion or the hours of pain she just endured to bring our son into the world. 

“B-but,” she finally looked away from the figure and up at me. “What… What if he wakes up… And, and he needs me.” Her voice was soft and cracked at the end of her words. I smiled softly as I tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

“It’s a good thing I never sleep. Please, you really need the rest. I’ll be here,” I returned the whisper before pressing my lips to her forehead. Her hand gripped mine as I went to move away. I looked down at her, appreciating the way the dim lamp lit up her face. Even though she was extremely tired, she still looked beautiful to me.

“If he wakes up… Or… Or cries… Or moves the wrong way… Please, wake me up," she whispered, her eyes still on me. The grip she held on my hand wasn’t super tight, but it was tight enough for me to keep my hand in hers.

“Please trust me… He’ll be fine and I’ll be fine. If I need help I’ll get a nurse,” I lifted a hand and gently held her face. She slowly blinked and nodded. “Everything will be okay for an hour, okay?” 

“Okay, okay,” she looked between me and the sleeping baby, “An hour is so long,” she whined. I smiled before laughing softly. 

“Get some rest,” I pressed my lips to her forehead, again, before to her lips, “I love you,” I looked down at her with a soft smile.

“But...”

“Go to sleep,” I stared at her. She grumbled a little bit before pulling the blanket further up her body. I finally pulled my hand from hers and went back to the chair. I kept my eyes on her for a few minutes, watching as she tossed and turned before eventually falling asleep. I felt a little bad for forcing her to go to sleep, mostly because I knew she wanted to spend every waking moment with our son. But when she was actually awake, she was so exhausted that it looked like she’d pass out at any moment.

When I was sure she was asleep for a little while, I flipped my book open and began to read. Of course, my attention only lasted for so long when a soft sound came from the bassinet beside me. I pulled my eyes off the book and looked towards my son. He was wiggling slightly in his spot, but just a little bit. If you were just looking in the room, and not right at him, you wouldn’t have noticed him moving. But my attention was solely on him, so I could see his movements.

I looked over at my sleeping wife, noting that she was stirring slightly. My eyes stayed on her for a moment, waiting till she got comfortable again before I stood from the chair and walked over to the bassinet. 

“Hey there,” I looked down at the wiggling form. I know he wasn’t looking at me, but my heart grew as he moved his head to face me. “Your mom is asleep right now. So, you’ve got me. Your dad,” I whispered as I carefully rested my hand on his body. He was so small, my hand was almost the size of him. “I’m your dad.” 

I stayed silent as I stared at him. I didn’t want to pick him up, in case he went back to sleep. Of course, luck would not be on my side. Because the second I pulled my hand from his body, he started screaming and crying. 

“Oh, please, please don’t,” I cringed as I quickly looked over my shoulder at my wife. She had begun stirring again, slowly waking up. “I got it, it’s okay,” I spoke loud enough for her to hear. I turned and looked back at the screaming boy. 

“Shhh, it’s okay,” I whispered as I picked him up, holding him close to my chest with both my hands. The second he was close to me, he calmed down. A small sigh of relief came from me as I turned to sit back down.

My wife was still, her eyes on me with a small smile on her lips. “Go back to sleep, I got it,” I looked back at her as I adjusted my hold on the baby. 

“He’s so little in your arms though…” she whispered as she kept her eyes on me. I looked up from our baby and at her. “Just a widdle man,” she closed her eyes before sighing deeply. 

“Yeah, he is, isn’t he?” I asked, bringing my hand to his face. My fingers gently brushed across his cheeks before down the bridge of his nose. 

I was happy I didn’t get an answer from my wife. I was even happier when I looked up at her and she was asleep. Actually asleep too. I could only hope it was a restful sleep this time. 

My attention was drawn back down to my son when he started crying a little bit. I was instantly looking at his face. The longer I stared at him, the more my heart swelled or fluttered or whatever it was it was doing. I knew a lot of things. But, I didn’t know the feeling I was having for my son, my own child. Of course, I felt this feeling before with my wife. But this was somehow different.

“So, anyway, I’m your dad… That’s so weird to say… that I’m someone’s dad now,” I whispered as I brought my hand to hold the back of his head. “I never thought I’d ever say that, but we’ll keep that between you and me, okay?” I smiled softly. My body carefully swayed back and forth to try to keep him quiet. 

I stayed quiet as I stared at him. I wasn’t scared that I’d wake him up. No, I was just scared I’d say the wrong thing. But can you really say the wrong thing to a baby who was 12 hours old? I wasn’t entirely sure, but it was one of my fears.

“You know, growing up I didn’t exactly have a dad. He left me when I was just 10,” my voice was hardly a whisper as I stared at him. I could feel tears begin to well in the corner of my eyes. There was nothing I could do to stop them either. I just had to let them roll down my cheeks.

“I just had my mom. And, well, my mom just had me." I brought my hand back to rest on his body. The way he breathed seemingly calmed me down. But I think it was the fact that he was okay that was calming me. He’s been okay since the first day we knew about him. In fact, he was more than okay. He was perfect.

“But I promise,” my voice was shaky as I stared at him, “I’ll be around for you. You’ll have a mom and a dad.” I tried to keep my voice from cracking, but it was hard not to let the emotions show. 

I pressed my head back into the headrest behind me. Just as my eyes closed, he started moving around against my chest. I looked down at him and saw him looking back up at me. 

“Hey there,” I laughed as I looked at his eyes, “You have your mom’s eyes,” I wrinkled my nose as I stared at him. 

I tried to not think about all the monsters in the world outside of our hospital room. All the horrors and terrors his mom and I have gone through to get to this very moment. I’d do whatever it takes just to make sure he’s safe and sound. The thoughts of the monsters made me scared. Is this what parenthood would be? Being scared every waking moment, while simultaneously being in love, and embracing the ups and downs of everything? 

Was I prepared for this? Was I prepared at all to be a father? I mean, I didn’t have a father figure till I was 22, but even he left me. I tried to not think about it, but it was becoming increasingly harder the more I sat in silence.

With a deep sigh, I looked down at him. I was happy he was quiet. He had a long day too. Being born can do a lot to a person, well to more than a person. I think I’m more happy than tired, to be honest. That he’s here, and he’s perfect, and no one would ever be as perfect as he is to me.

I’ve waited for this moment for… I don’t even know. I don’t think there was a starting point, the feeling was just always there. 9 months ago just fueled this feeling. And, now he’s here. It took him a long time today, too. He really wanted his first appearance to be grand. Just like his mother.

“I’m a dad,” I whispered, this time letting my words break. My eyes stayed glued to him. It was impossible to say how much time had passed, but I knew it was a while. And his mom stayed asleep the whole time. Just like how he did. 

If I had known I’d become a dad 15 years ago, when I was kidnapped by Tobias Henkel, when I thought I’d die then… I probably would have been safer and stayed with JJ. I wouldn’t have split up with her. Or, all those times after I was kidnapped, sitting in a bathroom stall with a needle in my arm while Dilaudid ran through my bloodstream, waiting for the high to kick in or take me for good. Or… Or my time in prison, where there were the times I almost got killed… I could go on, really. I have too many near-death experiences to count.

“I can’t wait to tell you all the stories I know, you’ll love them,” I ran my finger back down his nose before resting it gently on his lips, then on his chin. “Russian folk tales… Chaucer, like my mother told me… Stories of cases your mom and I were on,” I smiled as his nose twitched slightly. I sighed deeply before pressing my head against the chair behind me. “Maybe someday I’ll teach you chess.”

Even though all he did was just be born, he still went through some traumatic stuff. All of that can do a lot to a person. And when he was finally here, and in our arms, he cried. He cried to let his long awaited parents know he was finally here. It made my wife cry, and it made me cry. But it was the way he cried that broke my heart. The sharp ear-piercing screams resonated in the room, and I knew for sure I’d never forget it.

My arms stayed still, holding him close to my chest. I couldn’t stop my eyelids from shutting, like miniature garage doors closing. My body was yelling, shouting for sleep. Even though I never slept before this, watching my wife give birth, and all the moments leading up to this moment here, were exhausting. But they’re precious moments. All 3 of us may be exhausted, but it’ll be worth it all. 

Although, it was this moment that I decided every day was going to be for him. He was going to be the reason I’d return home instead of staying at the office late. Before his birth, and even before we found out about him, I never envisioned my life turning domestic. To be honest, even though I longed to be a parent, I never truly envisioned myself adopting a domestic life-style. 

 As long as he stayed still in my arms, he could stay with me while I slept. I think even if he squirmed a little bit in my arms, he couldn’t get very far. His tired little body was wrapped tightly in his blanket. Thankfully he was fast asleep, not a care in the world. He was still entirely too little to have anything to care about, other than eating and sleeping. 

It was early in the morning, or some would say late at night. Our room was dark, the only light coming from the small desk lap on the nightstand beside me. Outside, the sun was just starting to rise, making the sky a dark pale blue. Usually I’d watch the sunrise, but… my son. 

The quietness of our room mixed with the whispers of the nurses out in the halls, and their squeaky shoes, and the whirring of the hospital machinery became my soft lullabies, lulling me to sleep. The three of us slept peacefully, not a bother in the room.

But what it was that actually got me to sleep was the thought of him growing up. I thought I was smart, but the images and thoughts of him older, and even now, made me so… happy that I felt dumb.  

{***}{***}{***}

“When did you say they were coming?” my wife asked, looking between me and the baby. I looked down at my watch, trying to remember when the team would come over to visit. It wasn’t that I forgot when they were coming over… I just had other things on my mind. Like my son and wife for instance.

“I think, any minu-”’-te now.’

“Alright, where’s my precious godson!” a woman exclaimed, cutting me off, as she entered the room. I looked over at the door for a brief moment, watching as 4 people walked into the room. A small smile grew across my lips as I recognized the 4 people as Penelope, Luke, JJ, and Emily. 

“Hey,” my wife looked at everyone with a big smile and exhausted eyes. 

“Good morning, mom and dad,” Penelope looked between us. The smile she wore was bright and cheery, like usual. She carried a balloon, a stuffed animal, and a few large gift bags. 

“It’s so nice seeing you guys,” my wife smiled as she spoke.

“It’s hard to believe that you just had a baby. You look… Amazing,” JJ laughed as she looked at my wife. My wife looked over at JJ with a certain exhaustion in her eyes. 

“I don’t feel like I look amazing,” she laughed lightly. The baby in her arms wiggled slightly, causing everyone to look at him.

“Oh, look at him,” Penelope cooed as she looked between me, my wife, then finally at my son. I smiled as I looked at the small baby in my wife’s arms. “You must be so proud, Spence." “Well, I wouldn’t say proud is the word I’m looking for,” I laughed as I peeled my eyes off my child and looked at Penelope, Luke, JJ, and Emily. Although I was half expecting them to be looking at the sleeping baby, they were looking at me. How did they not want to look at my baby? He’s all I wanted to look at. He had my undivided attention now. 

“It’s so weird that you're a dad now,” JJ laughed as she walked around the other 3 guests and came to stand closer to me. I smiled, watching as she placed a small, pale blue gift bag on the small table. 

“Do you want to hold him?” My wife looked up at JJ with a smile. JJ looked down at the baby before up at my wife. 

“Are-are you sure?” JJ laughed lightly as she looked between my wife and child. I smiled as I looked at JJ. I laughed lightly at her hesitance. To be fair, she just wanted to make extra sure it was okay, since we’re new parents. 

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t sure,” my wife laughed as she carefully held out her arms. JJ smiled as she carefully picked our baby up from her arms. I smiled as she sat on the edge of the bed, holding my baby close to her body.

“He’s… precious,” JJ whispered as he looked down at him. “He has your nose,” she looked over at my wife, who was lovingly looking at our baby. A small smile grew across her lips as she nodded. 

 “Well, he has his father’s eyes.” My wife looked up at me with a small smile. If we hadn’t already argued over his little facial features, I would’ve argued with her that our son looks the most like her. That was why he was perfect. 

“Has Derek come by yet?” Emily asked as she looked away from the baby and at me.

“He said he’d visit when we got back home,” I nodded as I looked over at her. Emily nodded before returning her gaze back to the baby. Everyone was looking at him, and I didn’t blame them. 

“You guys… You take all the time that you need. Don’t rush back to the office,” Emily nodded. 

“But please come by and visit us all you want,” Penelope spoke as she looked between my small family. I laughed and nodded.

“We’ll definitely come and visit you guys.”

“You all know Spence. Can’t stay away from the office for a long time,” it was my wife’s turn to talk. She looked at me and lifted a hand. I looked back at her, adoring the way she smiled at me. I lifted my hand and placed it in hers. When she finds out that my days of staying late at the office are over, I’m sure she’ll be more than excited.  

“Maybe those days are over,” I shrugged as I looked down at the baby. I smiled softly and felt a sudden wave of calm wash over me. Everyone looked away from the baby and up at me with mild shock on their faces. 

“Really?” My wife asked as she gently pulled on my arm. I looked down at my wife, noting the way she was looking back at me. 

“I’ve been thinking about it. No hard answers,” I spoke as I looked back at Emily.

“Take all the ti-” She was unfortunately cut off by her phone ringing, “time… I’ll be right back,” she nodded before leaving the room. 

“I can’t wait to spoil the little sucker,” Penelope clapped her hands together as she looked between us. I laughed, watching as Luke looked at his partner. 

“Sure, spoil,” he nodded. The moment was ruined by our son unexpectedly screaming. JJ looked over at my wife, an apologetic look on her face.

“It’s okay. You know how newborns are,” my wife laughed as she took the baby from JJ. 

“With that, we should probably go. Little guy’s probably hungry,” JJ nervously chuckled as she stood. I shoved my hands in my pockets and stepped over to the three. 

“Thanks for stopping over. You guys seriously don’t know how much this means to me… To us,” I gestured over to my wife as I spoke.

“Oh, Spence, of course! Wouldn’t miss visiting you guys the first day as parents,” JJ smiled as she hugged me. I hummed as I hugged her. 

I wasn’t sure how long I had been asleep, if I had slept at all. I wasn’t even sure if it was a restful sleep either. But what I did know that one second later my body jerked awake when the loud sharp cries of a baby. 

My eyes snapped open and I looked down at the screaming figure. I cringed as I glanced at my wife, who I hoped was sleeping. But she was awake. Her eyes were glued to me and the baby.

“What are you doing awake?” I asked as I looked over at my wife, who was looking at me with wide, dewy eyes. Her exhausted smile told me that she’d been awake for a while. I looked down at the screaming baby in my arms before looking back at her. “Figured that one out myself.” I laughed when I realized the redundancy of my question. I stood up and lightly bounced to try to quiet the baby.

“I can take him.” My wife smiled as she looked up at me and lifted up her hands. Her eyes were glued to the small figure in my hands. I looked down at the baby and nodded.

“Yeah, I knew you were about to say that.” I laughed as I stepped over to her. She finally looked away from the baby and up at me with a smile. “How’d you sleep?” 

“Well, I slept.” She sighed deeply as she held the baby close to her. She looked down at him and smiled. “Hello, little man," she whispered as she brought her finger down his nose. “How did you sleep?” 

“To be honest, I don’t think I did.” I wrinkled my eyebrows as I sat back down. “Just… I’m not sure anymore. I didn’t sleep before he was born… But now I think I’ve lost all chances of sleep with him.” I chucked as I looked over at them. 

“Well… I mean, I’m sure your 12 cups of coffee a day won’t help that situation.” She laughed as she glanced at me. I slouched back in my chair, resting my head on my fist. “Or, well, I take that back. Keep drinking your 12 cups. I don’t want to wake up at 3 in the morning for diaper changes.” She sighed as she looked at the baby.

“Guess I’m going to need all of the time off in the world then,” I spoke through a yawn. My wife smiled at me and nodded. “Surely Emily won’t care if we’re both off for a while. She’s got plenty of help with the team.”

“I think I’ll need the help more than Emily,” my wife chuckled lightly. “You should get some rest, Spencer. You look more exhausted than me.” 

“How do you know what you look like?” I furrowed my eyebrows. She glanced at me before patting the small space beside her. I looked at her hand before yawning again.

“Just a guess. C’mere,” she looked at me as she moved her hand back and forth on the space. With a deep sigh, I stood up and moved so I was sitting beside her on the bed. “There, now you’ll sleep better.” 

“And where’d you get this science from?” I asked as I rested my head on her shoulder. She chuckled lightly and shrugged.

“On the science that I’m your wife and I know you sleep better when you’re beside me instead of a crappy hospital chair.” She looked down at me. I looked back at her before blinking lightly.

“Okay, that’s pretty sound logic.” I nodded as I looked down at the baby, who was back to sleep. It was amazing what a mother’s touch could do.

“See, like father, like son," she whispered as she brought her hand back up to her face. I furrowed my eyebrows before smiling. “Please get some sleep.”

“Beginning to sound like me there.” I lifted my head slightly to look at her. She looked back at me before pressing her lips to mine. 

“Sleep tight.” She ruffled my hair slightly. I smiled before resting me head back on her shoulder. 

I was happy when sleep came to me. It felt more restful than before… Maybe my wife’s scientific logic made sense...

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𝗮𝘁 𝗱𝗮𝘄𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝘂𝗻𝗰𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗼𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗼𝘄𝘀 | Simon Riley x Reader

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟯 | 𝖠 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝗄𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗐𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗄𝖾𝗒

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 ↬ 𝖥𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖺 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝖫𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗏𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖴𝗋𝗓𝗂𝗄𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇, 𝗈𝗋 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖺 𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗋 𝗓𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗒 𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗋 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖬𝖾𝗑𝗂𝖼𝗈, (𝗒/𝗇) (𝗒/𝗅/𝗇)'𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗉𝗁𝗋𝖺𝗌𝖾: 𝖨𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌? 𝖲𝗂𝗆𝗈𝗇 "𝖦𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗍" 𝖱𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗒.

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ↬ 𝖠𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝖧𝗎𝗆𝗈𝗋 | | 𝖦𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗁𝗂𝖼 𝖣𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 | 𝖯𝖳𝖲𝖣 | 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗎𝗆𝖺 | 𝖥𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖠𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍 | 𝖠𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖠𝖽𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 | 𝖤𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝖲𝗆𝗎𝗍 | 𝖲𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖡𝗎𝗋𝗇 | 𝖥𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖫𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌 |

𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 ↬ 𝖠𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾. 𝖲𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌. 𝖣𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗊𝗎𝖾!  

𝗢𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀 ↬ 𝖠𝖮𝟥 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 | 𝖶𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗉𝖺𝖽 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 | 𝖯𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼̧𝖺𝗂𝗌, 𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗎𝗏𝖾𝗓 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗅'𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼̧𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗋 𝖠𝖮𝟥 𝗈𝗎 𝖶𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗉𝖺𝖽

𝖬𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 | 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟣 | 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟤 | 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟥 | 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗂𝗍𝗋𝖾 𝟦 | 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟧 | 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟨 | 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟩 | ... |  

───────────────────────────────────

145 dead and 322 injured.  

A distressed sigh escaped me as I closed the lid of my pressure cooker, ready to simmer the stew inside. I wiped my hands as I walked out of my small kitchen, which opens onto my dining room adjoining my living room, and reached for my remote to turn off the television, where a continuous news channel was running, making my quiet flat a little more lively while I cooked.

Three weeks had passed since the series of attacks in London, which had rightly monopolised media attention. My family returned to France as soon as possible, after I refused to follow them. I couldn’t be the support they asked for and they couldn’t be mine. I had always preferred to walk on my own after such events, pretending like nothing happened, or with such detachment that it became distressing for others. ButI was like that, and to do otherwise would be far too difficult for me to handle and mentally impactful. 

I slumped on my green Mario Bellini, contrasting with the Georgian architecture of my flat and the building itself, immersed in calm. Coming home was always one of the strangest moments. Going from absolute chaos, to the most familiar calm. For the past few days, I felt drained, physically and psychologically, but always with the sentiment of having done the best I could.

There was always a before and after anyway. And we had to accept it, get used to it. That was how life goes after all. Everyone lived with their ups and downs. And the beautiful and less beautiful things. But after such traumatic events, I needed, I felt, to keep a positive perspective. And to try to escape in vain from pessimism and the idea that the darkest part of the human being will come out at some time or other. 

But today was my day off. These hospital shifts and series of surgeries had exhausted me. With no idea what to do, I decided to watch a boring movie and fall asleep to it, but my phone vibrated. Thinking a medical emergency at first, I was surprised to read an unknown number. I hesitated to answer, suspecting a scam. 

"Hello?" I said, finally picking up the phone. 

"Hello (y/n)?"

That accent, that voice...

I suddenly stood up on my couch, awakened by this call that I hadn't expected for a long time.

"Simon?" I asked, still unsure of who I was talking to. "Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me. It's been a long time." 

"Long time? Is the remorse of being stood up on Halloween too much to bear?" I teased.

I heard him clear his throat, probably embarrassed. 

"I'm kidding." I added. "I don't really care. How are you doing?" 

"I guess that's more like my job to ask. I heard about London, are you okay?" 

"Oh... Uh..." I started to stammer, taken aback.

He only called to see if I was alive after the attacks? Strange. Even after our first meeting a few months ago, he didn't even bother to contact me. And I couldn’t on my own, without his number. 

"As much as it can be." I say, before hastily inquiring. "What about you ? I hope your family is fine and that no one close to you has been hurt or killed."

"Don't worry about that." He assured me.

He didn't pursue the conversation, and not knowing what to say, I asked the first thing that popped into my head.

"How is the weather in Manchester? Does it snow? We had our first snow yesterday in London."

I slapped myself in the face. Rain or shine. What kind of uninteresting conversation was this? I came across as a conversationless goof and made the exchange all the more uncomfortable.

"I'm not in Manchester right now. I'm in London for work." 

"You're in London?" I exclaimed, pleasantly surprised. "Well, why don't we meet this afternoon? I know a lovely tearoom near the British Museum! They make delicious cakes and their teas are very good.”

I felt my heart racing slightly, apprehensive about his refusal. But as I liked saying to myself : nothing ventured, nothing gained. 

"Near the British Museum?" 

"If that's too far for you, I can find a more convenient one. Where do you stay?"

"No, no. The museum suits me."

"So you accept?" 

"Yes, but I'm only free after 4pm."

"Then we'll meet at 4.30 or 5pm in the tearoom! I'll send you the address by phone. See you later!"

"See you."

I hung up, more than delighted. My watch indicated 2pm, leaving me two solid hours to wash and get ready. Clearly, this was not a date. Or... maybe it was? But at the same time, did I really want to? 

After William... This was so recent. And this whole story had made me really question myself. I was not ready and even less made to commit me in an umpteenth relationship. And all these failures in love had made me realise one thing: my work came first. With each break-up, the subject came up like a landslide: I didn't invest enough in the relationship, I didn't offer enough affection, and when I went out into the field, I barely made a call. But as the expression went: no news is good news, right? 

More seriously, despite my desire to laugh, it was painful. Painful to know that no matter how hard I tried and how much I loved someone, that person will feel lonely and neglected enough to be forced to commit infidelity. But what could I do about it? My work meant everything to me. This was my life, my identity. It pushed me beyond my limits, stimulated me, and gave meaning to what I did. To lose him would be to lose a part of myself. 

So no, I didn't want another relationship while I continued to mourn the last one, understanding that this problem which all my partners blamed me for, will never find a solution. 

════════════════════════════════════════════════

How I adored this sweet tearoom nestled between two London streets. It was tiny and cosy, run by a welcoming family. I had arrived first and so had taken the initiative to wait inside, booking a table for two of us. The best for my taste. Near the frosted window that let you see the few passers-by wrapped up in their coats and hats, under the light snowflakes getting lost in the city. I had settled into the low wicker chair, leaving the pretty Victorian sofa for Simon if he came. It was a bit crowded, and I regularly checked the entrance behind me, and my messages, hoping for a sign of life from him. 

"(y/n)?"

I jumped at Simon's voice, not having heard him move quietly near me, too focused on my phone. My eyes went up to him. And my memories didn't fail me. Except for his stubble, better trimmed, he looked exactly the same as that night, contrary to me who, I hoped, was much more presentable. I pointed to the settee, which he accepted after taking off his coat and cap, letting his short brown hair breathe.  

"Did you find it easy?" I asked, trying to get the conversation going as quickly as possible.

"Yes, and you're right. The place is sound, must-see their tea now."

"Oh! I promise they're excellent! I always drink their black smoked vanilla tea, it's just so good. That, along with their lemon cakes. Lemon pies are my favourite. But I also recommend their banoffee." I jabbered, handing him the card that our waiter came to bring us.

He finally took an orange-flavoured Ceylon black tea, without sweets, and we could give the waiter our order.

"You look fine." He finally said, after a few seconds of silence while I fidget with my napkin.

Perhaps he realised my slight embarrassment. At least, I took this chance to talk about the latest events in my life, without confiding all the woes that weighed on my heart either. I never talked about myself, or more precisely, about my feelings, about something so intimate. I myself found it hard sometimes to put my finger on what I felt. I struggled with vulnerability, and I just didn’t understand how people could feel so comfortable sharing their pain, their uncertainties, their problems with others. This was so personal. Nevertheless, Simon was clearly intrigued by the series of attacks in London, and what better way to share my experience with him. 

"I'm actually a bit worried about my family." I confessed, glancing up at him. "I was with them in Leicester market the day of the attack and... they're deeply affected by it. Of course, I was advising them to go to a wartime psychologist, a normal psychologist would be useless, they've been through something that a normal French or British person can't experience. But I realise that it will be difficult for them to get past this event, and it kills me not to know and be able to help them as I would like."

"And you? Won't it be difficult to live with that?" He asked, clearly intrigued.

I let out a small sigh. The last thing I wanted was to come across as insensitive or mentally deranged. I needed to find the right words, and not speak without thinking as I was so good at doing. 

"I've been to war zones before, where I've been confronted with difficult things. The London attacks have... surprisingly not affected me in the way I thought they would. I don't have nightmares, I don't have post-traumatic stress disorder. But it could have."

"It's the kind o'thing you can't anticipate, after all." He added. "Ever been to a war zone?" 

"I'm a humanitarian doctor." I informed him, just as our orders arrived.

I thanked the waiter before continuing.

"I worked in the Sahel and Afghanistan with the Red Cross. Then I went to other countries, in short-term missions, especially during natural disasters." 

"And now?"

"Now I'm taking a break for a year. I'm a trauma surgeon at the St. Thomas Hospital. In spring, I'll go to Urzikstan, for six months. At one of Basat's hospitals."

"The second largest city after Sakhra." He noted. 

"Hmm..." I approved, pouring myself a cup of tea. "You know your geography well.”

"And isn't hard? Humanitarian doctor. Going from the comfort of St. Thomas to a Basat hospital."

"Of course, it's always a bit of a shock and takes time to adjust. But humanitarian medicine is such an exciting profession that requires so much commitment. Once you taste the world of humanitarianism, it's pretty hard to return to a quieter life. So this tea?" I queried as he dipped his lips into his cup.

He nodded with contentment to my great pleasure. A little more talkative than when we first met, he was interested in my job, then our conversation drifted to my life. I invited him to taste my delicious lemon pie, but he refused, claiming not to have a sweet tooth. In spite of this tête-à-tête which presents quite well, of the few jokes he was slipping here and there, a typically British humour which made me roar with laughter, something bothered me. In his behaviour, his look. 

"You know, if I ever bother you, just tell me and... we'll stop now. I don't want you to feel obligated, or to force yourself out of pity." I suddenly declared without warning.

I took him visibly by surprise at his astonished expression. Perplexed, he swallowed his steaming sip of tea as best he could and immediately asked. 

"Well, I'm enjoying myself. What makes you think not?"

Now it was my turn to feel flabbergasted, but mostly stupid. It had always been hard for me to grasp people, and more importantly to understand them by their body language. That was partly why I had always had a deep respect for these charlatan mediums, who knew how to read non-verbal language well, passing off this cold reading as clairvoyance. 

Oh God, how I lacked this, as at that precise moment when I misinterpreted Simon's behaviour, which was clear after all.

"Uh... ugh... For nothing. Never mind." I stammered before I managed to make up for it. "I just felt like I'd forced your hand on this meeting, and didn't want to ruin your day on top of that."

"Your company is more pleasant to me than mine." He joked. "Don't worry."

"You're harsh with yourself. You're a man of few words but of pleasant company." I bugged him. "I swear." 

"I get that a lot."

"Of what? That you're pleasant company?

"Hell, no. That I'm a man o' few words."

I laughed heartily and we continued joking until we finished our drinks. I insisted on paying, to his displeasure, but clearly I was much more stubborn than him. I had my way with him, and he proposed to take me home. As a gesture of gratitude, he said. I accepted without hesitation.

The first thing that greeted us as soon as we left the small tearoom was a glacial breeze winding through the city streets, slowly covered by a thin layer of snow. With a contented sigh, I completely closed my long vicuna Harlan coat, in an attempt to prevent the sudden wind from sneaking through the few openings my warm outfit could leave.

I then looked up at Simon, to see him wrapping his blushing face in the thick grey scarf he was wearing, leaving almost no skin exposed. The poor guy seemed to be enduring these winter temperatures rather badly. I let out an amused chuckle, causing him to tilt his head in my direction.

"What's so funny?" He queried in a gruff voice, muffled by the thick layer of wool covering his mouth.

"Nothing, nothing..." I reassured him as I set off.

In spite of the wintery temperatures, we preferred to walk all the way. It was a crepuscular promenade in the snowy alleys of London, still illuminated by Christmas decorations, despite the new year having started a few days ago. The two of us strolled peacefully through the quiet streets, and I had no hesitation in enlivening our conversation with anecdotes that are as far-fetched and comical as each other. My cheerful voice rose in this night as dark as ebony, shamelessly disturbing the lull of the district in which we were walking.

"Yer wot?" He exclaimed. "Did you really put a fucking whoopee in the confessional?" Simon scoffed. 

"But I was sick of it! My parents forced me to attend catechism even if I didn't want to!" I protested, faced with these events perceived as real injustices in my childhood. "After a while, my rebellious side got the better of me, and too bad if I would never be at one with God again according to my parish priest or my family." I sneered.

"I vaguely remember my childhood, but in my family, it was rather as one with whisky."

I tried to hold back my inappropriate laughter, but the strange sound that came out of my mouth didn’t go unheard.

"Sorry, I shouldn't laugh about it, it sounds awful." I said, still chuckling. "My grandpa was also more at one with wine than God."

Without further ado, I took one of my usual paths. It was a pleasant, seldom used alley. Simon began to reflect on the umpteenth conversation about a misadventure experienced during his adolescence. But he was immediately interrupted by an unexpected and disconcerting collision, shaking the back of his head. 

"Bloody fu..."

He froze, probably feeling the instant afterwards, a cold, disturbing fluid flowing down his neck, inevitably penetrating his coat. He let out a disgusted grunt as he tried in vain to prevent the snow from doing more damage. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who caused this sudden snowball attack. My contagious laughter as always shaking the serenity of the place was a perfect clue to unmask the culprit. He turned to me, who contemplated him mischievously. Although far from irritated, he was clearly baffled by my juvenile action.

"Are you serious?" He declared, bewildered as my hilarity intensified, giving him a clear answer.

I bent down, gathering enough snow in my two gloved hands, and formed a new ball which I threw with no hesitation. But this time prepared, he easily dodged it. He ran to hide behind a parked car.

"You know that's a war declaration you just made?" He exclaimed as I giggled.

"And I'm willing to feed you some snow, Brit!"

He took the opportunity to create a snowball and immediately to throw it in my direction. Far from being as skilful as him, I barely avoided it, but almost tumbled to the ground. Nevertheless, I managed to regain my balance. This moment of distraction earned me a second snowball, in the face this time. However, a satisfied smile appeared on my lips when I saw that he was playing the game, despite his apparent seriousness. I immediately resumed our fierce bloody fight which ended in a bitter defeat on my part. But I accepted it in good faith. I managed to touch him and to push snow into the collar of his jumper, and that was priceless. 

"Are we almost there?" Simon asked, after we started our way again.

And I could only understand his impatience. After our childish interlude, the snow had covered my poor coat so well that its once beige colour was barely noticeable, and my scarf had just frozen solid. I preferred not to mention the clothes under my coat, as they were both soaked and frozen. A very bad combination. The same was probably true for Simon.

"Just two streets away”, I assured him.

"You live in Mayfair?" He wondered, and rightly so. 

"Yeah... But the flat belonged to my great grandfather, and I took it over when I moved to London for William a few years ago. I know, it still sounds very bombastic, and I hate that, considering that I have no credit for acquiring it."

"Don't need to justify yourself." He reassured me, and I thanked him for that.

We soon arrived at the door of my building. And with all my gratitude for this most pleasant day and afternoon, I offered him a warm goodbye while an idea arose in my mind. But I still had to summon up the courage to do it. 

"Wait, Simon!" I shouted abruptly as I stepped outside, greeted by a gust of wind that made my scarf flutter.

He turned towards me, to see myself running after my goddamn scarf spinning away from him. It fell into the gully next to the road, and in this double misfortune, I slipped on an icy surface, falling firmly to the pavement. I hissed as I felt pain shoot through my coxal bone. 

"You're ok?" Simon worried, hurrying to my side.

He picked up my soaked scarf, and helped me up. 

"More scared than hurt," I informed him. "Shit, I just wanted to ask you for dinner with me. I've prepared a bit too much daube, which I can accompany with mashed squash and an excellent Châteauneuf-du-Pape of 2005…" I drift in a whisper.   

"And in English? How would that sound?" He scoffed, walking me back to the entrance of the building. 

"How about a nice French dish with marinated beef and fine wine?" 

"I thought you're a terrible cook."

"Well, I've got a reputation to uphold as a French woman. I'm not a great head chef, but I have some basics."

I opened the door, then turned to him. He seemed conflicted about this last-minute offer. 

"Take it or leave it, Simon. But know that you'll never taste a better daube than this. It's an ancestral recipe."  

"You know how to sell it, but I decline. I'm busy tonight." He admitted.

I puckered my lips in a resigned smile, wishing to disguise my disappointment. But I accepted his choice, and let him go with a final goodbye. My building door closed behind me, bringing an end to the most delightful day I had lived in weeks. I started to walk up the wooden staircase, my flat being only on the first floor, but three knocks against the door resonated in the hallway and stopped me. I turned towards the entrance and recognised the large and high figure of Simon. I hurriedly opened the door for him. 

"You forgot something?" 

"Even if I've always preferred whisky, I felt a good wine from time to time seems fit." He confessed. "Un Châteauneuf-du-Pape." He tried to repeat in his adorable English accent.

My eyes immediately sparkled, understanding what he meant. I willingly let him into the hall, and didn’t hesitate to tease him about his changeable, fickle persona, versatile in his opinions or views.

"I didn't know you were such a weathervane, but it's a great pleasure Simon. Always."

───────────────────────────────────

𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 ↬ 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟥 ! 𝖧𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 :) 𝖣𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗐 𝗌𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗏𝖾! 𝖠𝗇𝗒𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 ! 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇-𝗉𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗒𝗇𝖺𝗆𝗂𝖼 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 (𝗒/𝗇) 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖦𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗍, 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝖾'𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖲𝗂𝗆𝗈𝗇.

[rowansparrow]

By Any Other Name

Summary: Recovering from a traumatic loss, you, the reader, own and operate The Rose Lounge, a high-end club designed to be a safe space for the clones to unwind and mingle with civilians that isn’t confined to the shady Coruscant underworld. You spend your days caring for the clones – your friends – in all the ways you know they deserve to be treated, whether it’s throwing parties, giving them space to grieve, someone to talk to, and more. But when a face from the past reappears, you find yourself pulled in two directions: clinging on tightly to the past, or surging forward into the future. 

By Any Other Name is a story of loss, joy, heartbreak, and love, in all its prevailing forms, as faithful and promising as a rose. 

Chapter Rating: Teen

Warnings: uhh brief mention of sexy times but nothing too overt? Mild cursing, alcohol.

Ships: Rex x Female!Reader, Fives x Female!Reader, Clone OC x Female!Reader, other ships tbd. 

Tags: #ByAnyOtherName, #BAON

Word Count: 2k

A/N: This is just chapter one! Enjoy! Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future updates. :) 

You’d been cooking for the past three hours, careful to time out everything right to when your beloved would be coming home. He’d called you the night before, said the campaign was almost over and he’d be home by the following evening. You grinned, biting your lip as you surveyed the carefully set table and hot food waiting for him.

You walked back down the hallway of your apartment, following the trail of rose petals from the table back to the bedroom. You’d been very liberal with spreading them on the bed – maybe a little too liberal, you couldn’t really see the sheets very well anymore. But that didn’t matter. It had been four long weeks since you had seen Rose in person, and nothing was going to temper your excitement at this point.

You couldn’t help the little squeal that slipped past your lips. He’d proposed the idea to you right before he’d left, and you’d wanted time to think about it before making a decision. But you were ready now. You knew. You’d never been more certain of anything in your life.

A knock on the door, and you grinned. You paused for just a beat to check yourself out in the mirror, making sure not a hair was out of place on your head and your pretty blue dress hugged your body in all the right ways before scampering to the door.

~

You kept your eyes closed, even as the chrono on your nightstand blared beside you. If you held perfectly still, while the blankets were still pulled up around you and the fogginess of sleep clouded your brain, you could almost imagine his arms around you again.

You lingered, for as long as the screeching chrono would allow before you finally succumbed and slammed your palm lazily against it, turning it off at last. You rolled over, staring up at the ceiling of your bedroom and deliberately not looking at the other side of the bed. Empty and untouched, the pillow undisturbed in quite some time, but still neatly made as though the bed’s second occupant might one day come home.

It is with measured care that you dress, careful to avoid his half of the closet. His clothes were gone – long gone, not that he had many to speak of anyway – but the burn in the back of your throat at seeing the empty shelves was still there, even after all this time.

You move on to the bathroom, and your eyes don’t meet your reflection. Instead, you focus on the way the water swirls down the basin, the way your spit bubbles in the stream, tinged with the slightest crimson. Your lips were chapped.

You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, and finally braved a look at your own face in the mirror. For the long days and even longer nights you’d had the past year, you could have looked a lot worse. You’d lost weight, your cheeks a little hollower than usual – the grief or the exhaustion, you couldn’t be sure which – but your eyes were bright and alert. You nodded once at your reflection, and made your way into the kitchen.

Time, as fickle and cruel a mistress as she may be, had made things easier on you. You couldn’t deny that. Over the past year, the pain had eased, and you’d found other things to focus your attention on.

A smile crossed your lips even as you thought of it. The Rose Lounge had turned into something even better than you could have ever imagined, even if it was built from the savings that were supposed to be for your life together, your happy ending with him.

You pushed those thoughts away. It didn’t do to dwell on the past. 

Your commlink beeped at you rather insistently from the counter, and your smile widened, quickly picking it up.

“I was wondering when you’d call.”

“Hey, I promised I’d be there for opening night, and I’m a man of my word.” You could hear the smile on ARC Trooper Fives’ face already.

“Have you landed yet?”

“Just finished debriefing with the Captain. I invited him along, but he declined.”

Your gut twisted at the mention of Captain Rex.

You opened the door, your smile faltering slightly when you saw who was on the other side. Captain Rex took his helmet off slowly, holding it at his side. You knew. You knew before he even spoke. You could see it in his eyes.

“Y/N…”

“Don’t.” You shook your head, the tears welling up in your eyes before you could stop them. “You’re wrong. Don’t say it. It’s not – It’s not true.”

You pressed on. “Shame. He could stand to relax a bit.”

“Ah, you know him. This probably wouldn’t be much of his scene anyway.” Fives said something hurriedly to somebody else – another trooper from the sound of it – and turned his attention back to you. “So listen, I know you said this was a soft opening, and I was only supposed to invite the guys.”

“Fives.”

“I was just thinking, it might be kind of fun to invite some officers!” Fives said. He cursed softly under his breath, muttering to himself. “You know. Get some credibility behind the Rose? Just thought it might be a good idea, since we’re calling it high-end.”

“Who’s the we in this?” You asked, amused. “I’m the one who bought the building and renovated the entire inside.”

“I helped!” Fives protested. “You would’ve made some very poor design choices if I hadn’t gotten involved.”

“You mean if you hadn’t gotten Kix involved.”

“Same thing. I’m helpful.” Fives retorted. 

You shook your head fondly at the communicator. In truth, you were grateful to Fives. You don’t know how you would have gotten through those first few months if Fives and Echo hadn’t constantly come to visit you. Hells, Fives was the one who finally managed to get you out of bed. 

“I’m leaving the base now, I can meet you there in ten. See you soon?” Fives prompted.

“Yeah, see you soon.”

~

You hadn’t planned on going to 79’s that night, but a few of your girlfriends wanted to see what a clone bar was like. There was a certain thrill for them in the soldiers – something different, a spectacle to ogle at. You’d never had the chance to meet a trooper yourself, the only real exposure you’d had was the Coruscant Guard, and they didn’t seem like a particularly friendly bunch.

So you kept your wits about you as you’d followed them inside, lost in the sea of identical faces. Your friends were long gone. You spotted one of them getting friendly with a soldier in grey paint, and another was wedged between two men dressed only in black undersuits. You chuckled, and made your way to the bar.

“Corellian Whiskey, please.” You told the bartender, starting to take a seat in one of the stools.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

You jumped. A clone was eyeing you from two stools down, you were surprised you’d even been able to hear him over the roar of the music.

The soldier was dressed in full armor, blue accents notating the plates. He was handsome. Well, all the clones were handsome, but this one had a certain boyishness to his face. His hair was longer than the standard regulation cut, the curls smoothed back away from his face except for a single stubborn one that fell in the center of his forehead, tickling his eyelashes when he tilted his head towards you.

“It’s a bar.” You said when you finally found your voice. “Am I not allowed to order a drink?”

“No, I mean I wouldn’t sit in that stool.” The clone replied, tilting his drink towards the stool you’d been about to occupy. “Saw a shiny piss himself in that seat a few minutes ago. Guess he’d had a few too many.”

You didn’t know what a shiny was, but you recoiled from the seat anyway, wrinkling your nose. “Is that a common occurrence?”

The man chuckled, shaking his head as he took another drink. “You must be new here.”  

You edged away from the stool, instead reluctantly taking the seat beside the clone. “Nobody peed on this one, right?”

“Not tonight.” The clone replied. He was smirking now, his eyes shining even in the low light. The bartender returned, sliding your whiskey in front of you, and the clone raised an eyebrow.

“Strong drink.” He said, glancing up at you again. “You the nervous type?”

“Just a lot of strangers.” You said cagily, looking around for your friends again.

“What’s your name?”

You looked back at the man. His hand was extended to you, and you took it hesitantly, shaking it.

“Y/N.”

“I’m Rose.” He shook your hand, and flashed you a little grin. “Now we aren’t strangers anymore.”

“Rose what?”

He laughed. “Just Rose. Unless you want my number too.”

“Do you always give your number out to strange women you meet in bars?” You retorted.

He laughed. Not just a chuckle or a smirk, but a full laugh. Your heart fluttered.

“My CT number, di’kut. Not a comm number.”

“Your what? What did you call me?”

He giggled to himself, shaking his head and finishing his drink. “You and me,” he said, giving you a wink. “We’re going to be friends.”

~

You’d spent the better part of seventeen months creating the Rose Lounge, and finally, all your hard work was about to pay off. The club was extravagant – maybe more than it needed to be, given that it would be primarily occupied by the clones. But you’d seen the seedy interior of 79’s, the only other clone-friendly establishment, and damn it the clones deserved nice things too.

A loud whistle resounded from behind you, and you grinned, turning around to face your friend.

“She’s really come together.” Fives said, beaming as he hurried over to you. “Hey mama.”

“Hey yourself, you were supposed to get back yesterday.” You said, hugging him tightly.

“War’s war, what do you want me to do?” Fives replied, releasing you at last. He went over to the bar, peering behind it. “You got enough booze for everyone?”

“It’s a soft opening, there won’t be many people here.” You replied. “But yes, we have plenty of booze, even for an army of clones.”

Fives gave you a cheeky little grin, eyeballing the booths and loveseats scattered around the dance floor instead. “Comfy.” He commented, flopping facedown on one before rolling over to peer at you. “With enough low light and loud music, somebody could rub one out right here in the booth and nobody’d know.”

“Thanks for that.” You replied, rolling your eyes. “I half expected Echo to be with you.”

“He had to finish writing our reports, he’ll catch up later.” Fives said, sitting back up. “I came early to help with any finishing touches.”

Two men raced over to the bar, grabbing Rose by the biceps. One had a number 5 tattooed on his temple and the beginnings of a goatee.

“Rose, Rose, Rose, we need you, Jesse’s getting his shebs kicked in Sabacc and you’re the strategist, if we lose to the 212th again we’re gonna have to do latrines for the Marshal Commander -.”

The troopers paused for a split second, finally noticing you.

“Any other time, I’d encourage you to get laid.” The tattooed trooper said, tugging on Rose’s wrist again. “But this is life or death, vod.”

“Jesse’s in way over his head, Rose.” Said the second trooper. “Apologies, ma’am.”

Heat filled your cheeks at the trooper’s implications, and you once again found yourself opening your mouth to retort only to be cut off again.

“Perhaps we can finish our conversation another time.” Rose said, rising to his feet. “Lovely to meet you, Y/N.”

You looked around the lounge again, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Hey.” Fives spoke up from behind you, pulling you from your thoughts. He gave you a small smile. “He’d be proud of you. Of all this. He’d like it.”

You nodded, looking back up at the neon blue lettering above the bar: THE ROSE LOUNGE.

“I hope so.”

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