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starkeymeow · 7 months ago

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chrysanthemums ₍₁₎

drew starkey x reader zombie apocalypse au

— “you’re the gun in my lips that will blow my brains out.”

content: zombie apocalypse, death, violence, guns, lowkey actor!drew x camp counselor!reader in an apocalypse, drew saving reader & reader being stubborn asfuck i fear

authors note: me after rewatching twd asf LMAO im on s6. if u wanna be added to the tag list for this upcoming series, feel free to lmk thru replies, anons, dms, or reblogs !!

drew steps into the house, its rotting frame creaking under his weight. the walls sag like old men, peeling wallpaper revealing layers of neglect beneath, as if countless lives have been lived and lost within these confines.

he shuts the door behind him, careful not to lock it; the last thing he needs is to be trapped in here if things go south.

his heart pounds in his chest as he takes another step forward, his eyes scanning the dark corners of the room, wide and alert. he grips his baseball bat tightly, knuckles turning white against the wood.

the floorboards groan underfoot, each creak sounding like a warning, and he winces at the noise. if there’s a stiff inside this house, it’ll hear him for sure. every instinct screams at him to turn back, but he forces himself to move deeper inside, driven by a desperate hope that maybe—just maybe—he’ll find something useful.

he drops the bat to one hand, using the other to push open the door to the nearest room. the stench hits him like a wall, forcing him to pull his mask up over his nose, just below his eyes, and he glances around.

he rummages through the debris, sifting through old clothes and broken furniture. there’s nothing here but memories, and he wipes his hands on his pants in frustration.

he turns to leave, swinging the door back open, but he’s met with the cold steel of a gun pressed to the side of his cheek.

“don’t . . move,” a voice commands, low and steady. he freezes, heart racing, eyes darting to the figure standing before him. and you’re the one there, gun raised. it isn’t anything fancy, just a glock 19 you scavenged from a body at an overrun gas station weeks ago.

your finger rests near the trigger, tense and ready.

you size him up, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. drew can feel the heat radiating off your body, but once you see that he’s just some random guy, you lower the gun, stepping back slightly. “jesus christ,” you mutter.

he watches you, the gun hangs loosely at your side now, but he can see the edge of caution still lingering in your posture. your eyes are wary, scanning him for signs of threat, and he takes a slow step back, raising his hands slightly in a gesture of peace.

he can see the shadows under your eyes, the blood on your skin and clothes.

“i thought you were one of ‘em,” you say as you regain your composure. you reach down and grab the bag of cans you’d found just moments ago. the metal clinks softly as you pull it off the floor.

you don’t want to linger any longer. the silence stretches, and you know you need to keep moving, find your next shelter, your next meal. you turn sharply on your heel, ready to head out the door, but the moment you step toward the kitchen, you hear him behind you.

“hey— no, wait!” drew’s voice cuts through the silence, and he steps forward, but you quickly glance back over your shoulder, every instinct telling you to keep your distance. “one’f who?”

he quickly pulled his mask down from his face, revealing his expression—breathless and earnest, like he’s just realized how much he needs you in this hellish world.

“nobody,” you reply, your voice sharper than intended. your eyes narrow at him. he places his bat on the ground beneath him, then raises his bare hands slightly as if to show you he means no harm, that he’s unarmed, but you can’t shake the feeling that this could all turn sideways in an instant.

“look,” he says, his voice casual yet urgent, “we should— we should stick together. it’s safer that way, right?”

you don’t falter, “not happening.” you start moving again, but he quickly intercepts you, stepping toward your path.

“c’mon,” he presses, “you can’t be out here alone. it's a death sentence. we have a better chance if we watch each other’s backs. there are worse things out there than me.” his eyes scan the room, then dart back to you, a flicker of desperation beneath the charm.

you squint at him, trying to gauge if he’s being genuine or if it’s some trick to win your trust. “and how do i know you’re not one of those worse things?” you retort, standing back on one of your legs. your mind races with the memories of the past year—trust has gotten you burned more times than you can count.

“because . . . i’m not a monster,” he replies, dropping the friendly act. “i’m just tryin’ to survive. there’s safety in numbers.” he pauses, seemingly aware of your silence. “i’m drew, by the way,” he adds, but you don’t respond with your name, keeping that information to yourself as a protective measure.

you look him over, “i don’t need a partner,” you insist, the words feeling more like a defense than a conviction.

“maybe not,” he concedes, his voice softening, and he follows you into the small kitchen, “but you don’t have to do this alone. just . . . think about it. we could cover more ground, find better supplies.”

you shake your head. “i’ve done fine on my own,” you argue. drew’s gaze is steady, not giving up on you, and it annoys you more than it should. you take a step back, glancing toward the door.

“look, we could—”

“no,” you cut him off sharply, your patience thinning. “you don’t know me, and i don’t need deadweight slowing me down.”

he opens his mouth, likely to say something else, but you turn abruptly, stepping outside into the dim light of the fading day. as you walk toward your car, a small hatchback parked in the driveway, you can feel his presence behind you, like a shadow you can’t shake off.

“where are you going?” he calls, his voice trailing after you.

“my car,” you reply curtly, not bothering to look back. your mind races with the possibility of getting out of here, of leaving him behind. but then a small voice in the back of your head—one that you’ve trained yourself to ignore—reminds you that you can’t keep running forever. maybe it would be easier to team up, to have someone who knows how to navigate this decaying city.

“do you even have gas?” he asks, quickening his pace to catch up with you, his footsteps crunching on the gravel. “we should check—”

“i know my car,” you snap, opening the door and peering inside. a few old cans roll around on the floor, remnants of a past scavenging trip. it’s not much, but it’s yours. “i can handle myself.”

“i believe you,” he says. “but gas is running low everywhere. i could help with that, you know. if you let me.” he leans against the car, his baseball bat resting against his thigh. you can’t help but glance at it, reading his mannerisms.

no.

you slip into your car. your heart races as you grip the steering wheel, torn between the urge to drive away and the nagging feeling that you’re leaving someone behind. glancing in the rearview mirror, you catch a glimpse of drew as he watches you leave.

there’s a flicker of disappointment in his eyes, but you shake it off, convincing yourself that he’ll manage. he’s resourceful, right? he’ll find a way to survive, just like he’s been this whole time anyway.

the engine hums to life, and you pull away, the tires crunching against the gravel. the sun dips lower in the sky, and you remind yourself that you can’t afford to be weak—not now, not in this world.

as you drive, the evening air grows cooler. it’s getting dark. then, ahead, you spot movement. a dog is darting between a cluster of empties and a man, barking wildly. your instincts kick in, and you slow down, eyes narrowing as you assess the situation.

the man chasing the dog doesn’t look like its owner. there’s a wildness in his eyes, a desperate edge to his movements, and the knife glinting in his hand sends a chill down your spine. this isn’t a rescue mission; it’s a hunt.

you stop the car just in time, your heart pounding in your ears as the empties turn their heads, slow and shambling, drawn to the sound of your engine. you curse under your breath, the instinct to protect the dog outweighing your better judgment. you can’t let them hurt it, and you can’t let the dog end up being that man’s dinner.

grabbing the machete from the passenger seat, you open the door and step out into the fading light. the dog continues to bark, but you move swiftly, cutting through the first two like butter, the blade slicing into their skulls. blood and decay spray against your skin, but you push the discomfort aside.

the dog’s barking intensifies, and you leap into action, striking down another empty. you feel the rush of your heart as you move, each swing of the machete is quick and precise, but the smell of rot fills the air, overpowering and sickening, making it hard to concentrate.

but you can’t stop now. you push forward, cutting through the ranks of the undead, clearing a path toward the man and the dog. you’re almost there when he notices you, eyes narrowing in irritation. he shifts his weight, ready for a fight.

he lunges toward you, and you barely dodge his first strike, the blade missing you by inches. you sidestep, retaliating with a swing of your machete. he blocks you, and you can feel your heart racing as you circle him, trying to find an opening.

he charges again, and you duck as his knife whips past your ear. you retaliate with a slash of the machete, catching him across the arm. he hisses in pain, dropping his knife, but he doesn’t back down, lunging forward with renewed fury.

you back away, but the ground shifts beneath you. you stumble, catching yourself just before you lose your balance, but he’s on you, driving you back toward the treeline. you slam your foot down, pushing against him, but he pushes harder, and you feel yourself going down.

you grapple, fists flying as you wrestle for control of your machete. his grip tightens around your wrist, and for a moment, panic surges within you. you can’t let him win—not now, not like this. with a sudden burst of strength, you twist your body, throwing your weight against him, and finally, finally, you manage to free your machete.

without hesitation, you drive it into his neck, feeling the sickening squelch of flesh giving way. he gasps, surprise flooding his features as you twist the blade, but before you can pull the weapon free, he collapses, taking you with him as you tumble down a hidden slope you hadn’t noticed, “shit!”

the world spins around you as you roll, slamming against the ground hard enough to rattle your bones. pain erupts in your head as you hit a rock. the last thing you see before darkness creeps in is the dog barking at the top of the hill, confused and agitated.

then everything fades away into silence.

you wake slowly, vision blurring as you try to make sense of the world around you. a dull ache pulses through your skull, and your body feels heavy, weak. blinking, you try to take in your surroundings.

a small fire crackles in front of you, the orange flames licking at the night air. it’s dark, and the sky above is blanketed in stars. confusion prickles at your mind—where are you?

you shift, but your head throbs with a vengeance, and your muscles feel like lead. beneath you, something hard gives slightly under the pressure: a backpack wrapped in a jacket to act like a pillow, just something to lay on. you hadn’t even registered it was there until now. as you move, the material rustles, and a small twitch of pain shoots through your neck.

god, your head hurts.

blinking again, you force your vision to focus. in your peripherals, you spot the dog from before. it’s lying nearby, tail flicking with calm awareness. oh—right. the dog. you were protecting it before everything went sideways, before that asshole with the knife and the tumble down the hill.

the hill.

the guy died.

he’s an empty.

panic grips you, and you spring up, or at least try to like the empty will attack you at any moment—your limbs are weak. your hands automatically search for your machete. first, your boot. nothing. then, the sheath that’s supposed to be strapped to your calf. but it isn’t there either.

panic claws at your chest, making it hard to breathe. your leg is wrapped in a makeshift bandage, clean but light, and you can’t feel a thing from it. what the hell happened?

your breath quickens, a desperate, uneven rhythm as you struggle to find your weapon around you, your fingers scrabbling at dirt and a few wood chips. where is it?

that’s when you hear him. “relax,” the voice says, dry. “you’re not exactly in fighting shape, anyway.”

your eyes snap to drew. he’s sitting a couple feet away, leaning against the base of a tree. there’s a bar clamped between his teeth, and he’s tearing off a piece with a mixture of irritation and exhaustion. he chews, watching you with that same exasperated look he wore back when you left him on the road.

the day hasn’t been kind to him, either; his face is lined with fatigue, and his clothes are more scuffed and dirty than before. the granola bar he’s eating must’ve come from some recent scavenging effort, something you don’t remember finding yourself. at least he hasn’t gone through your supplies—or maybe he has. you wouldn’t know.

you glance around the makeshift camp. your hatchback sits a tree or two away, its dirty, beat-up exterior looking just as you’d left it. a tiny sense of relief washes over you, though you’re still on edge.

the dog from earlier trots up to you, sniffing your leg before nuzzling your head. you watch it, feeling a rare warmth unfurl in your chest. it’s safe. you’d saved it. no more running, at least for now.

drew’s still sitting there, silent as he chews, gaze unfocused and distant, watching the dark woods. he hardly notices you looking at him until he turns slightly, catches your eye, and acts. biting down on the bar to hold it in place, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out another granola bar.

without a word, he tosses it over. it lands in front of you, and you stare at it, your lips pressing into a thin line. drew mutters something under his breath. “not much, but it’s what i could find this morning. for both of us.”

you don’t move. you’re too stubborn to accept his food or the silent offer of care. your hand flexes against the dirt, trying to push yourself to your feet. drew sees you trying to stand and quickly drops his bar, scrambling into a crouch. he moves forward with practiced precision, catching your wrists just as you’re about to collapse again. he holds your arms gently but firmly, pinning you back against the makeshift pillow.

“fuck—!” you yelp, frustration breaking free. rage sparks in your eyes, and you glare up at him, teeth clenched, breath coming in shallow gasps. drew is hunched over you, worry creasing his forehead, his gaze scanning your face and hair for any signs of new injuries or, god forbid, crawling insects.

“what the hell is wrong with you?” you spit out.

“what’s wrong with me?” he echoes, voice even but laced with exhaustion. “what the hell is wrong with you? you nearly killed yourself trying to play hero. maybe let someone help you for once.”

he lingers there, doesn’t pull back, still making sure you’re not about to hurt yourself—or him.

you grow quiet again, the fight draining from your body as drew watches you closely, his shoulders tense, but when it becomes clear you aren’t about to launch another desperate attempt to stand, he releases his grip on your arms and leans back. he picks up the granola bar you rejected, his movements resigned.

you sit up, slower this time, shooting him a glare as your hand moves cautiously to your leg. your fingertips brush the bandage. it’s secure but not overly tight. you feel the slightest prickle of guilt mixed with irritation as you look back at him.

drew meets your gaze, his jaw set. “when you fell,” he begins, voice low as he swallows, looking down at his granola bar, “you scraped your leg. nothin’ that’s gonna kill you, but it was bad enough to need wrapping. infection out here is just a different way to die. we can’t afford that.”

you catch the way he says ‘we,’ and your brow furrows. “we?” you echo, your voice colder than you mean it to be.

he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “yeah, we. as in, both of us. like it or not, we’re out here together now. you got hurt trying to save that dog, and—hell, i know you think you don’t need anyone, but . . .” he pauses, choosing his words carefully. “i couldn’t just leave you there. especially when that stiff was gonna come back to life while you were out.”

your eyes narrow, “i didn’t ask for you to find me. or to save me,” you snap, bitterness lacing your voice. the implication hangs in the air: you’d rather be on your own, even injured and vulnerable, than owe anything to him.

drew’s mouth twists. “yeah, well, maybe you didn’t. but i found you anyway, and that’s where we’re at. it’s not just about what either of us wants anymore; it’s about surviving. and as much as it annoys you, we have a better shot together than apart.”

you grit your teeth and your mind fights the idea, refusing to accept that this stranger—this person who insists on sticking around—might be right.

he studies you for a long moment, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. “you gonna tell me your name?” he asks, breaking the silence, his voice softer than before. for him, it’s been a full day since he first introduced himself, and yet he’s still left in the dark about who you are.

you clench your jaw, your lips pressing into a thin line as you consider staying quiet again.

his gaze is steady. “you think i’m a liability?” he asks you.

“i know you are,” you reply, tilting your head. “and if you keep bothering me, i might just throw you to the empties myself.” it comes out half-jokingly, but it’s a warning that carries weight—an unspoken understanding that you will do what it takes to protect yourself.

“empties—yikes. and that’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” he replies, a lopsided smile breaking through his frustration.

“harsh is surviving another day in here,” you say. “i can handle myself, thank you very much. if you can’t keep up, then you’ll find yourself with the rest of them.” you nod around you, not an actual direction, indicating the danger that lurks just beyond the trees you can see from there.

he shifts his weight, contemplating your words. “i’m not asking you to babysit me. i can keep up,” he insists. “i just think we could help each other. you might be able to throw me to the stiffs, but what happens when there’s more than just one? or when you run out of supplies?”

“i’ll take my chances,” you respond. “i’ve gotten this far on my own. it’s worked for me.”

he sighs, clearly exasperated but not willing to give up. “you’re stubborn,” he states, but he can’t help but admit that he admires it about you. “but that won’t get you everywhere. sometimes you need to lean on someone else.”

you shake your head. “i said no. if you keep pushing, i swear—”

“you’ll throw me to the stiffs, yeah, i get it,” he interrupts, a wry smile playing on his lips. “but let me just say, it’s a hell of a lot easier when you’re not facing down a horde alone.”

you hesitate, contemplating his words. trust doesn’t come easy, not when you’ve seen what people are capable of when pushed to their limits, even though you can go for a companion out here.

“you don’t even know where to look for supplies,” you say, trying to sound tougher than you feel. you can almost hear your heart thudding in your chest, “i’ve been doing this for months. i can find what i need.”

“you act like you’re the only person in this universe who’s been practically living in a cemetery this last year! it’s getting harder out here,” he replies, his eyes serious now. “you’ll wish you had someone watching your back. you probably already have.”

you push your hands into your pockets, feeling the rough edges of the cans you collected earlier. the truth is, the thought of partnering up is enticing, but the fear of betrayal hangs heavy in the air.

you let out a reluctant breath, muttering, “y/n.”

he doesn’t miss the way you almost bite down on the name, as if even giving that small piece of yourself away is a battle. but drew’s expression softens, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face. it’s not a grin of triumph but rather a look of someone who knows that even the smallest steps matter.

“y/n,” he repeats, testing the sound, as if committing it to memory. “nice to meet you, officially.”

he shifts slightly, his eyes searching yours. “look, just think about it. we’re stronger together. and if it helps, i promise i won’t let you down.”

you hesitate, glancing back at him. there’s a flicker of something—a potential alliance, perhaps—but the instinct to protect yourself runs deeper than any desire for companionship. finally, you turn your back on him, determined to get to your car.

“fine,” you say, voice steady but laced with reluctance. “but if you try anything—”

“you’ll be the first to know,” he cuts in quickly, a ghost of a smile appearing as the tension between you both shifts, just a fraction, toward something resembling partnership.

early tags: @iissza @lotuslovers @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @yootvi @skyslowalking @hoelesslyt @ariiwritess @beebeerockknot @0-tatiana-0

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it-was-summer · 5 months ago

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... And Fall In Love Whenever You Can.

A/N: This fic genuinely had me tearing up as I wrote it. Therefore, it shall hold a sweet place in my heart. As a kid, I used to say, "If something makes you feel, then it is good." I still believe that today. If it makes you happy, sad, flustered, ANYTHING! To feel something while reading is such a beautiful reaction to media. I often cry at movies, I cry when I read romance novels, I cry when I read poetry, and I laugh when I do, too. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you feel something, Em <3 (I also apologize for vanishing; I got sick, and it made me feel brain fog)

Link to the Ao3: ... And Fall In Love Whenever You Can Link to the: Yee olde masterlist Tags: Grief support group, mention of death(s), loss of romantic partners, struggling with mental health, tears, the rise and fall that is nonlinear healing, fear of forgetting a loved one, falling in love after tragedy, Spencer sounds like he had therapy, Maeve mentioned, guns mentioned, she/her pronouns for reader used at like one point, Reader's POV for the most part, Reader is in extreme denial and feels guilty, a secret other thing??, lightly proofread tehe!

Genre: Light Angst, Some? Hurt/Comfort, Fluff! Pairing: Season10! Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Plot: Meeting Spencer at a grief support meeting might be the best and the worst thing to ever happen to you- but it's all relative in the eyes of love.

Word Count: 9,791

You were pacing a dimly lit parking lot outside of the funeral home. It had been eleven months, two weeks, and three days since Alexander’s death. The grief meetings occurred every third Wednesday, and everyone was lovely enough. You just couldn’t find it in yourself to go inside this particular Wednesday. Because it was on this date, two years ago, Alexander had gotten on one knee at the aquarium and asked you to marry him. It was two years ago that you had said yes, not knowing that a little over a year from then, he’d be dead.

Your feet kept making strides to the double door entryway, only to slow to a stop when your hands reached the door’s push handle. Then, you’d shake your head and turn around to circle the parking lot once more. With your luck, the meeting would be over before you even got the courage to go inside.

A groan escapes your throat as you firmly put your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the Summer sky. “I’m sorry,” Your voice is raw, barely a whisper as you struggle to keep yourself from crying. You knew everyone said not to keep it in, to express your grief freely. It minimized stress. At least, that’s what the grief counselors say.

The worst part was no longer knowing who you were apologizing to— yourself or Alexander.

You were walking around one of the parking lot’s street lamps when you saw someone standing at the doors, frozen in place. It was like watching a mirror of yourself—rigid shoulders, twitching hands, shaking head.

You approach the man slowly, your image warped in the reflection of the glass doors. He turns to face you before you can speak, and he looks like you did eleven months ago. His eyes have dark circles around them, tinted with a red water-line and dull cheeks. That doesn’t stop you from gracing him with a gentle smile, “Are you going inside?”

His eyes meet yours for a second, looking away to glance back at the doors. “I’m not sure.” His voice is quiet, scared. He sounds like he is still on the fence. You nod, drawing your lips into a tiny line as you drop your hands to your sides. “Are you?” He asks, stepping out of the way for you.

You feel your mouth open to say you are going inside, but the words never come. Instead, you shake your head side-to-side timidly. “I’m not sure either,” You laugh out feebly. He nods, a dull smile gracing his delicate features for a millisecond before looking off with a forlorn expression.

“I was thinking about walking around the parking lot again… to try to gain the confidence to go inside. You’re,” you pause, wondering if it's a good idea to offer the man an invitation, “You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.”

The man looks at you again, his eyes widening for a second. You’re sure he’s about to decline, return to his car, and drive away, but he nods. You feel yourself smiling. It’s a little subdued, but it’s real. You mouth a silent ‘okay’ as you move your hands to your pant pockets, stepping away from the doors with this mourning stranger. You figured you didn’t have to talk if he didn’t want to, so everything was quiet as the two of you slowly walked around the large parking lot.

Eventually, your quiet stranger speaks, “Thank you,”

You shrug a little, sniffling, “It’s daunting, especially the first meeting.”

He frowns a little, watching your eyes flit over to him and then back to the night sky. “That obvious?”

“Only a little, but that’s not a bad thing.” Your voice is gentle as your feet slow to a stop, a light smile appearing on your face as you stare into the night. Spencer tilts his head to look at the stars, silently hoping that what makes you smile will make him smile, too. ��Do you see her yet?” You ask, voice like honey.

He feels like crying as he says, “No,” He doesn’t even know who you’re looking at.

Your right hand is coming out of your coat pocket as you point to Cassiopeia slowly, tracing the stars with your index finger. “Cassiopeia, she’s a little low right now, but in a few months, she’ll get higher. You see her?”

And Spencer does. He feels his body relax, just for a moment. “I do.” He feels himself smiling a little at the sky, and the feeling feels almost foreign. His gaze falls back to you as you stuff your right-hand pack into your pocket, “I’m– I didn’t introduce myself earlier. I’m Spencer.”

“That’s alright; I didn’t introduce myself either,” you sigh before you tell him your name. He nods at your response and follows you once your feet start moving again.

“Have you—” He motions to the funeral home in the distance, “ever been inside?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m a funeral home grief support group regular.” You joke lightly, though the soft chuckle you let out sounds like a sad one.

He nods, nervously adjusting the beige cardigan on his chest. “Is everyone—I mean—” He draws his lips closed as he tries to gather his thoughts. “Do you like it?”

Your feet slow for a second as you think about it. Sure, everyone was friendly, and the support was more helpful than harmful. But did you like it? You give him a little nod when you answer, “Yeah, it’s been nice. Less,” You tilt your head slowly like you’re choosing your words carefully. “Less Lonely.”

Spencer lets out a relieved-sounding sigh as he mutters a gentle “Right.”

“I just,” You swallow carefully, “I’m having a hard time going in today. My fiancé proposed two years ago today. I just— I mean everyone inside knows, I just,” You trail off for a second, sniffling lightly as a cool breeze brushes against your watering eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”

Spencer didn’t know what to say to that. With Maeve, he had barely met her in person before she was murdered in front of him— the future pulled out from under him. Nowadays, he spends his time rereading books, remembering conversations on the phone, and mourning her silently in his apartment. Sometimes, he didn’t know which would be worse: losing her when he did or ten years down the line. Nonetheless, there is no Maeve to help him answer that question.

He struggles to find the words for a second before he nods, slow and unsure of himself, “It matters.”

You grin at how scared he sounds, the sound of a man holding on to the memory of a face that keeps fading away in his mind. “I know,” you can feel the ghost of the engagement ring on your left hand, a ring that now lies in a coffin.

As the two of you get close to the building once more, you ask, “Are you going to go in?”

Spencer swallows hard, the knot in his throat making it difficult for him to breathe. “Maybe next meeting,”

You nod, “Me too.” You stare at your car in the distance before you feel yourself standing in the parking lot with Spencer— unmoving. “I know it’s not a lot, and I know that I can’t help that much, but,” You pull your phone out of your pocket, opening the keypad cautiously before holding it out to him. “If you ever want to talk about it, or anything really, I’d be happy to talk with you.”

Normally, Spencer would decline such a kind gesture. He would thank you, drive home, and find solace in something familiar. His fingers twitch lightly as he reaches out for your phone, staring down at the keypad for a second before he puts in his number. He doesn’t know why he wants to talk with you. He thinks it’s because talking with a stranger about Maeve seemed less daunting than talking about it with his coworkers— his friends. You barely know him, and that makes your offer seem safe. No preconceived notions, pity, or gentle promises of being there for him, just a stranger talking to another stranger.

Two weeks go by like usual— no text from your stranger named Spencer, coffee for one at the café that was Alexander’s favorite, taking his mom to dinner on Thursdays, and so on. Sometimes, the days blur into a muddled painting filled with muted tones, and you try your hardest to remember when everything had a vibrant hue.

Most days are easy, easier than most, at least. It’s not that you forget about him. You remember him when you see a couple holding hands or golden retrievers going for walks, you think about him with everything you see, and it feels good to remember him. You’re happy to have known him so well, loved him so deeply. But all the love inside you has nowhere to go, so you go to his grave on Saturdays, hoping you can pour all the love in your heart onto a tombstone with his name on it. It never works, of course, but it helps.

You're running late this particular Saturday morning. You have two coffees in hand—one of which always goes untouched—and you’re stuck on the metro. That’s when you see him again, your stranger sitting in the fluorescents of the railcar.

Pushing through a small crowd, you approach him, slowly taking the empty seat next to him. Spencer doesn’t look up at first, his eyes glued to the book in his hands. That is until you’re leaning over to him to say a small “Hello,”

He jumps at the sound, head snapping to look at you with wide eyes. He doesn’t know why he’s so surprised you remember him, but he is. “Hello,”

Your eyes meet his, “Do you remember me? I-I’m sorry I shouldn’t have invaded–”

“No! I mean, yes, I remember you. You’re not invading my space. You’re fine.”

You let out a relieved sigh, looking away from him for a second to look down at the cups in your hands. His eyes follow your gaze, and he offers you a shy smile, “Are you meeting someone?” Small talk was never his strong suit.

You look at him, eyes lingering on his polite smile. “Oh,” you laugh like it's funny. “No, it's just me.” Spencer gives you a confused look, and you quickly answer his silent question. “I visit Alex’s grave. He loved black coffee. It was the most unsettling thing about him.”

Spencer doesn’t know how you’re smiling so wide as you say it. How could you talk about someone you lost and smile so wide talking about them? Would he smile like that one day? Would he even have things to smile about, or would what-ifs haunt him until the day he dies?

You find that you hate the silence that follows, the lack of sound creeping over your skin, making you itch to say something more. “I’ve always liked cemeteries too, so bonus, I guess.”

That gets you a sharp laugh, “You’ve always liked cemeteries?” Spencer’s eyes seem slightly brighter now, less red than two weeks ago, and they’re laser-focused on you.

You happily nod, “Always thought they were beautiful. It’s a creation of love, a way for your love for someone to live on.”

“Not sure everyone thinks about them that way,”

“Well, I guess they wouldn’t, and that’s alright with me.” You hum softly as the intercom announces in a static-filled voice that the railcar will be moving soon. “It’s quieter that way.”

Spencer glances towards the intercom for a second before turning back to you, “I suppose you’re right— about the quiet thing, not sure I agree with always liking them.” And he’s smiling at you, a real smile.

You feel yourself smiling back, wide as ever, “What’s your opinion on cemeteries then?”

“I’d like to say I don’t have an opinion on them, but if I had to form one, I would say they’re…” He trails off for a second, thinking about it more now. He laughs for a second, “Well, I suppose I find them rather serene.”

Your eyebrows raise for a second as you study him. How he seems to be relaxing in the conversation, and you can’t help but consider extending him an invitation to your weekly visit with Alexander. The longer you stare at him, the more you think the worst he can say is no, so you ask. “Would you like to join me?”

Spencer reels back slightly at the invitation; it feels intimate, yet he doesn’t want to say no. He wants to see what you see, to understand your mind, “I–” He looks away for a second, staring at the still-opened book in his lap. “If you’ll have me.”

Once you are on the street, you hum lightly while walking beside him. Spencer doesn’t seem to mind very much, his fingers fiddling with the edges of his book that now resides closed in his hand at his side. He’s nervous for some reason. He doesn’t understand why you invited him, nor why he said yes. He thinks maybe he should announce that he has other plans, turn on his heel, and book it in the other direction.

But when the two of you tread closer to the cemetery gates, you start talking again. “I hope you don’t find it strange that I invited you. It’s been a little under a year– well, a year next week– and I know it might seem weird, but I’d like to think he’s happy about me having a new friend.”

He knows it is a coping mechanism, and he knows Alexander cannot feel anything anymore. Spencer’s a man of science, but hearing you say that makes him feel at ease. His shoulders unwind slowly, “He sounded like a nice person,”

You let out a playful hum, “Sometimes. If he didn’t like you, he made it pretty obvious.” You pause for a second, glancing over at Spencer. “He was tall, kind of like you, and nerdy. But he was so funny; no one knew how funny he could be. They never listened hard enough, you know? I hated that people would talk over him in a crowd. To me, he was the only person worth listening to.”

Spencer finds him smiling at that, following you as you take a left. He sees that you're smiling, too, and when the two of you get to his grave, you’re still smiling. You let out a happy sigh as you talk, introducing Spencer as “Your new friend.”

For a while, you tell him stories—memories from when Alexander was still alive—and he finds he doesn’t mind listening to them. He sees them as a great distraction from his lack of happy stories with Maeve. You’re laughing a little as you tell him of the time that Alexander’s mother wouldn’t stop sending him a massive, bulk-sized trail mix every time she sent him a care package in college. He had so many bags that they lived under his bed for the better part of four years.

“Did he even like trail mix?”

“Honestly? Yes, but he only liked the chocolate and peanuts. It would just be massive bags with an abundance of raisins inside.” You shake your head a little as you stand next to Spencer.

Spencer lets out a slightly amused hum. His mind keeps going over how good you are with everything. You talk about Alexander openly. You don’t hold your feelings back. You smile so wide, even when you look at his headstone. He wants to know your secret— some secret to grief that he has yet to uncover.

His mouth opens briefly, closing quickly as he shifts his weight awkwardly beside you. He sucks in a nervous breath as he tries to muster up the courage to speak. “How do–” He sighs heavily, “I mean, I’m sure you struggle–” He licks his lips nervously, your eyes meeting his slowly. “When does it stop hurting?”

You’re silent for a second, your soft smile fading as you stare at him. He’s scared that maybe that’s the wrong question to ask as he watches you turn your head to look down at Alexander’s grave. He is about to apologize when you whisper, “It feels different now.”

Spencer’s mouth snaps shut as he waits for more, his eyes scanning your side profile slowly for some sort of sign that you’re uncomfortable. “Last year, it just felt like–” A pause, your free hand rising to your chest slowly. “It felt like someone had plunged a dull knife into my chest and left me for dead.”

Spencer’s chest tightened for a second, his own heart feeling painfully dull as he listened to you.

“But, I’m not the one who died. Alex did. I was so angry— disappointed that he had the nerve to leave me when we were about to start the next chapter of our lives together. I had–have– all this love inside my heart for him, and he’s gone. It took me a long time to understand that, to be okay with it.”

Your words catch in your throat, and you clear your throat quickly. The familiar burn of tears threatens to build in your eyes as you force yourself to look at Alexander’s grave. “He was so kind, and once I got past that feeling,” your voice sounded thick. “Life kept going, and so did I. He wouldn’t have wanted me to stop living my life. When you love someone, you only want them to be happy– with or without you.”

You sniffle lightly, relaxing your shoulders slightly, “It never stops hurting, I guess, but days get better. I’m happy that I got to be a part of his life. I find some comfort in that. Somewhere, in the story of him, I’m there.” Eventually, you find the courage to look over at Spencer. When your eyes meet his, you find that he’s staring at you with a compassionate expression. You can see the understanding in his eyes. You swallow hard, pushing the emotional lump down your throat.

“It does get better.” You whisper, your voice warm.

Spencer nods quickly, mouthing a little ‘I know’ before his eyes trail away from you for a second. A cool breeze passes between the two of you when he says, “Just needed the reminder,”

The next time you see him, it’s the third Wednesday of the month, and he sits right next to you. You find yourself smiling a little when he does, nudging his shoulder playfully as more people fill the space. He scoffs playfully, the silent gesture letting you know he’s happy you’re here.

The meeting passes like usual: New members share their stories, grief counselors hand out business cards with their phone numbers, recurring members offer kind sentiments, and then, just near the end, your seat partner stands up.

Your eyes widen for a second as you watch Spencer stand, his eyes laser-focused ahead as people turn to look at him. You watch how his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. A shaky breath leaves him as he tries his hardest to start talking. His hands flex for a second, pressing against his pants to wipe off what you can only assume is sweat.

He stutters for a second, his confidence creeping away from him. You’re surprised when he turns his head to look at you. His breathing steadies as he watches you. “I’ve been having difficulties sleeping again. After,” His hands move a little as he speaks, his eyes periodically looking towards the rest of the group before trailing back over to you, “I just– I used to have a hard time sleeping, and lately, it’s been happening again. Every time I sleep, I see her, and I feel so–” He used to dream of her after her death, dreamt of touching her, but these were different. Dreams that constantly left him waking up feeling devastatingly alone.

He shakes his head a little, “It’s been seven months, and I keep dreaming of everything that could have been.”

The confession is met with comfortable silence and sympathetic looks, but not from you. You’re nodding, an encouraging smile spreading across your face. For some reason, he likes that better. “I don’t like leaving her when I wake up.” The admission feels like a weight lifting off his chest when he says it.

There’s a pause of silence before he sits down, unsure of what else to say besides his admission. As one of the counselors begins to talk to Spencer, he finds himself listening intensely. Seven months, and he’s finally willing to take some much-needed advice.

After that month’s meeting, Spencer has back-to-back cases. He’s keen on keeping in contact with you, which you’ve said he doesn’t have to do if he doesn’t want to, but he insists. He likes having someone to update, a friend waiting to see him when he’s free.

The next time he’s free, it’s a rare Saturday. He’s been awake since five and can’t seem to go back to sleep. He does keep dreaming of Maeve, but they’re a little different now. This time, he was in a cemetery with you. It was freezing, the kind of cold where you could see your breath, and you were laughing about something when the two of you bumped into her. Maeve’s not angry. She just laughs and glances at Spencer before hugging you. You hug her right back and say something– and that’s when he wakes up.

Spencer doesn’t like the feelings that stir inside him with that dream: confusion, curiosity, sadness, something else. The feeling is warm, tinged with an overcoat of sorrow, and he finds himself needing a good distraction.

However, reading isn’t helping, nor is the crossword. So eventually, he finds himself getting ready to go out for the day in the search of a good distraction that will get his mind off his dream.

He doesn’t know why he thinks about the cemetery where Alex’s grave is on his way to get coffee that day, but he does. A part of him feels that a nice walk will do him good, so, coffee in hand, he finds himself walking… then taking the subway… then ending up in front of Alex’s grave… alone.

Spencer’s lips slightly pout when he sees no coffee cup on the headstone. He knows that you have yet to visit your late fiancé today. He doesn’t exactly know why he’s visiting your late fiancé today; without you, it feels… strange.

The longer Spencer stares at the letters etched in stone, the more he feels a realization dawn on him. He feels guilty… guilty for dreaming of you, guilty for craving your warmth right now, and guilty for a million different little reasons.

Spencer feels his lips part for a second, a sigh escaping his lungs, before he whispers, “I’m a mess. " He knows he’s talking to thin air, but he feels lighter, admitting it to himself.

“I don’t know what I’m feeling. All I know is that I shouldn’t be, and it won’t do anyone any good, and secretly I think–” He sucks in a cold breath of air, “Secretly, I think I don’t deserve it.” The grave is silent, of course, but Spencer smiles anyway.

For a while, he thought his future had passed him by. A brief image graced his vision before leaving him blind. He can see now. He sees that he still has things to do, goals to accomplish, people to meet. Then he’s walking away.

Two meetings and four coffee ‘dates’ later, you’re rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet as you watch Spencer laugh over something with one of the grief counselors. It’s a strange feeling to see him laugh so openly. It's heartwarming if you’re being honest. It’s hard to explain it, and the feeling is too intense– too raw. It’s a feeling you dimly remember, and suddenly, you’re nauseous.

You have a crush, which is incredibly laughable because you’re an adult. The last time you had a crush on someone was three years ago, Alexander. This almost feels cruel. The longer you stare at him, the more real it becomes.

Spencer catches your eye for a second and excuses himself from the conversation in his polite Spencer way. When he reaches you, he smiles warmly: “Somebody’s all smiles.” You hum with a playful roll of your eyes.

Spencer pouts for a second, good-natured and playful, as he mutters a little, “When did smiling become a crime?”

“It isn’t. I’m just being observant, and you have a nice smile.” You try to keep your voice calm and level, but he seems to catch on anyway. Spencer’s eyes seem laser-focused on you, studying you carefully. Internally, you’re beginning to pray that his profiling skills fail to notice the classic signs: your sweaty palms, wandering gaze, and too-tense shoulders.

And if he does notice… you hope he doesn’t say anything. That’s not Spencer’s way, and you know it. “Everything okay?”

You nod quickly, “I’m good, sorry, I was just thinking about… bills.” You know he catches the lie the second you say it; you can see it in his amused smile.

“Bills?”

“Bills.”

“I’m not sure I like this story you’re going with, but if you’re sticking to it, I won’t pry.”

You nod, letting your shoulders relax as you sling your bag over your shoulder. “Thank you,”

“I was thinking,” Spencer starts as he grabs his messenger bag, following you out. “We could get dinner together Friday night.”

“Why?” Your tone is a little flatter than you’d like it to be as Spencer walks you to your car. You'll admit the idea of being alone with him is nice, but the admission feels strange— still too raw, surreal.

“Because…” He trails off slowly, hoping to find a better reason than it being because he wants to have dinner with you, but the longer he sits with the ideas, the more he feels like you’ll turn down his idea. He feels self-preservation take over, and for the first time (and what he hopes is the only time), he lies to you. “My teammates are having a get-together.”

“Oh!” You say as the two of you reach your car. “And you want me to meet them or?” The idea seems less daunting. Yes, Spencer and you had been to get coffee together, but that was just coffee. Dinner seemed too intimate, but dinner with friends? Now, that was less scary.

“Yeah! Yes, I think it’d be nice!’ Spencer’s voice cracks slightly before nervously clearing his throat in a weak attempt to control the anxiety that creeps into his tone. “Would you… like to meet them?”

You’re leaning against your car door, and the air smells sharp with the promise of snow, and Spencer’s sure you’ll decline. You grin, nodding slightly, “Sure, I mean, it’s just dinner with friends. What time Friday?” Your arms fold over your chest, pulling your coat closer to your body.

“Six.” He doesn’t know how his fake dinner has a time, but he’s surprised at how easy it is to come up with one. “Nothing fancy. I’ll, um, text you the address.”

You watch him for a second, trying to read him the way he reads you. His voice seems higher in pitch, and his eyes keep glancing at yours. You chalk it up to him being nervous. The combination of two groups already frying his nerves before it even happens. “Can’t wait. See you Friday.”

Spencer stuffs his freezing hands in his pockets as he watches you enter your car and drive off. Then, the panic sets in.

He’s tailing Derek desperately, “Listen, I know it’s rushed, but–”

“I don’t see why you can’t just text her the address and ask her out. Straightforward.” Derek says as he takes the left towards Penelope’s office. “Or you could say we canceled and make it just the two of you.”

“Considering I already lied to her once, I’d rather not lie twice. And–” He fumbles with his words for a short second. “It’s not a date. I just thought she thought it was one, and I panicked.”

“What’s wrong with it being a date?” Derek asks, knocking on the door gently before entering Penelope’s office.

“Date?” Penelope echoes back as she turns in her chair.

Spencer holds out a hand defensively, “It wouldn’t— it’s complicated! Please say yes. You’re the first person I’ve asked.”

“Asked what? Am I going to be asked?” Penelope chirps as Derek hands her a coffee.

“Pretty boy here,” Derek motioned to Spencer with a light wave, “Lied to one of his ladies. Invited her to a team dinner that doesn’t exist.”

“A team dinner would be fun! With a new addition, too!” Penelope said with a sip of her coffee. “When?”

“Friday,” Spencer mumbles, avoiding her gaze.

“Friday, as in, tomorrow Friday?” She sucks in a breath of air, “Spencer…”

He frowns and mouths a little, ‘I know’. He looks at them, pleading, “Please, even if it’s just the two of you…” He trails off slowly, watching Penelope and Derek share a look.

“I’ll text the rest of the group.”

“Not the whole story,” Spencer adds as Penelope pulls out her phone. “Please.”

“I’m already doing you one favor, boy genius.”

Spencer is surprised at how many of his team members agree to dinner. JJ, Penelope, and Derek all promise to bring their respective partners. Rossi and Hotch politely decline, but given his sudden plans, he doesn’t blame them.

However, by the time five-thirty rolls around, he can see that he’s been played. The first text comes from JJ, claiming that Henry is sick and that she can’t make it. Derek follows, saying that he accidentally double-booked and cannot cancel his reservation with Savannah. He can feel himself sending a silent prayer to Penelope before she, too, is texting him to cancel.

So now, he stands outside the restaurant in a long brown trench coat and purple scarf tied tight around his neck. When you arrive, adorned with a cream sweater and rosy cheeks, you ask him the inevitable: “Where’s the team?”

Spencer's throat tightens as he answers, “They’ve canceled, so it’ll be just us if that’s alright with you?”

He can see your smile falter momentarily before you nod, “That’s fine, another time.” You shiver a little, glancing towards the restaurant. “Should we…?” Spencer, silently elated that you aren’t leaving, nods and hurriedly rushes over to open the door for you.

Once seated, you are greeted by a slightly uncomfortable awkward silence. You’re sure that it will soon resolve itself, but Spencer seems too lost in his thoughts, and it becomes clear that if you want this long silence to end, you’ll have to speak first.

“I’m sorry every–”

“Do you–”

The two of you stare at each other briefly before laughing softly. Spencer’s eyes crinkle a little when he’s laughing, a feature you seem to be adoring silently before he says, “I’m sorry that everyone canceled.”

You push out a little breath, your gaze falling to the menu on the table. “That’s okay, I’m sure everyone has busy lives.” You shrug a bit before glancing up at him, “I do have a question for you, though,” You watch as Spencer’s back straightens, and he gives you a small smile as the ‘go ahead.’

You flatten out the front of your sweater nervously, “Do you think it’s weird that I was supposed to meet your friends— the team?”

Spencer gives you a slightly confused look before you quickly add, “I don’t think it is, but I was talking to my coworker about tonight, and she said it seemed like an excuse for a date. Then I explained it, and she called it weird, and I don’t know—Do you think it’s weird?”

Spencer can feel his cheeks heating up against his will, and his head shakes from side to side, “No! No, it’s not weird.” he pauses, thinking about it for a second. “Well, maybe a little. But not for you, for me. You’ve never expressed an intense interest in meeting them, but they mentioned bringing someone, and I thought—” He motions to you with a shaky hand, “Thought you’d be a good person to bring to dinner. You’re lovely, and my friend, and I—” he feels the rest of his words die in his throat. He wants to tell you that he wants the team to meet you. He wants everyone to see how wonderful and kind you are.

He feels his mouth dry, realizing he wants you to meet the team now. He wants a third party to witness your calming effect on him, and, most importantly, he wants them to like you because he likes you.

A slow ringing grows in his ears at the full realization of his feelings for you. Your smile, usually calming, has his heart leaping in his chest. He finds himself leaning closer when you say, “I didn’t think it was weird either,”

Spencer lets out a little huff of relief, “Good, that’s good.” His heart was beating fast in his chest. He knew he had feelings for you but was unaware of how deep they ran.

“Though I will say, it is strange that they all canceled.”

He feels awful lying to you. He can count two lies now and doesn’t want to tell a third. “Yeah, I can’t explain that one. They all did it at the last minute. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind, though I was scared this was all a set-up for a date.” You laugh as if it’s the silliest idea you’ve heard.

Spencer can feel his heart in his throat, his breathing quickening slightly. “Would it be bad if it was?” he can’t stop the words from spilling out, his eyes widening at his sentence.

Your surprised face stares back at his, breathless as you look at him. You’re about to say something when the waitress comes by to take your order. You manage a slight, polite smile as you order before you’re staring off at Spencer. His nervous eyes flicker between the waitress and you as he orders quickly.

When she’s gone, you stare at each other with bated breath. You draw in a slow, calming breath when you say, “I don’t know,”

“You don’t… know?”

“I just, I haven’t thought about—” You pause, knowing it’s a lie. “I have—” You correct gently before you let out a frustrated sigh. “I thought we were friends.” Your voice cracks slightly.

Spencer draws his head back at that, “We are friends. We are. I didn't know if you ever thought about—” He doesn’t know what he’s saying. What is he aiming for here?

“Anyone dating you would be lucky, Spencer.” You say, sweet and gentle. You don’t know how to save this situation. Your love for Alexander will always be in your heart, strong and genuine, but… looking at the man across from you.

You watch his fingers nervously trace patterns on the glass of water in front of him, how he’s looking at you with such a sweet expression. You just didn’t think this would happen to you. You were sure that Alex was it. He was all you would ever know— you had resigned yourself to it.

Would you be a bad person if you fell in love again? After everything, it feels… selfish, dirty, wrong, terrifying. “I’m not sure I’m your best option.” Is what you settle on.

Your heart silently breaks as you watch Spencer’s face fall. His nervous fingers slow their movements until he whispers a sad, “Right.” There’s a pause, like he’s deciding what to do next. He then nods, like he’s coming to terms with something.

“Right, I’m not saying I’m looking–” His brown eyes scan your face, “I’m not even sure I want something like that. I don’t know why it sounded like I was. I just want you to know that I—” He swallows thickly, “I like being your friend.”

“Me too! I like being your friend, too.”

“Good!”

“Great!”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, “So we’re on the same page?”

“Same chapter and everything.”

Spencer lets out a huff of a laugh at that, nodding slowly.

The rest of the dinner seems normal; the interaction from earlier seems to be brushed under the rug, and you’re grateful it is. However, the topic kept worming its way into your train of thought. The nagging thought of ‘What if…’.

It's not a terribly horrible idea to date Spencer. If you were honest with yourself, you had thought about it before—not obsessively, just in passing. A little whisper of an idea, lovely and new. It was nice to fantasize about love, but it was just a fantasy. You had a great love, and you were grateful.

Wanting more than that was greedy.

After dinner, Spencer insisted on walking you home. He wouldn’t listen to a single one of your protests and simply convinced you with a firm, “I’ve seen what happens to people when they go off alone late at night,”

The reminder made you readily accept his company on the cold December night. Walking by his side, watching how your feet started to sync in step, your mind began to wander. What did a date even feel like? It had been so long since you’ve had a date… you weren’t even sure you would know if you were on one unless it was explicitly said.

The thought makes you chuckle, earning the interest of one Doctor Spencer Reid. “What’s on your giggling mind?”

“Nothing,” You sigh, glancing over at him. “I was just thinking about how long it's been since I’ve been on a date. I don’t even think I would know if I was on a date if I was on one. Someone would have to sit me down and explain it to me,”

Spencer’s lips quirk upwards at the idea, listening to you. The sweet look he’s giving you is not lost on you as you continue to ramble, “I mean, I’m not even sure I remember the last time I tried to look for a date.”

“Care to take a guess?”

“Uhm,” You draw out the sound as you think, your tongue wetting your lips. “Six months ago, maybe, kind of, sort of?”

Spencer’s clever mind quickly realizes that this failed dating experience happened a month before he met you, and then he notes that it also happened ten months after Alexander’s death. “And.. What do you mean by that? How does someone, kind of, sort of, maybe look for a date?”

You roll your eyes, “It wasn’t really my idea. My friends convinced me to go on some dating apps, and I tried!” You laugh lightly, “Well. I pretended to try. I just didn’t like it. It wasn’t what I expected.”

“What were you expecting?”

Your feet falter momentarily before finding their pace next to Spencer again, “Something from a Nora Ephron movie, maybe? Something like You’ve got Mail.” As you say it, you see the strange look on Spencer’s face, and it makes you grin. “It’s a romantic comedy.”

He mouths a soft ‘oh’ and feels awkward because he still doesn’t know what you mean. You’re quick to explain, “It just means I had high expectations. Alexander and I were friends for a while before we,” You trail off before you wave the sentence off with your hand. “I just didn’t like it. Felt too forced.”

Spencer understands that part, slowly taking a left with you. “Haven’t tried that yet.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it.”

He grins and nods, “What do you recommend?” His curious mind was getting the better of him. His left hand slipped out of his coat as he waited for your answer, his knuckles dangerously close to yours.

“In a world seemingly becoming increasingly dependent on technology for everything? I’d recommend shooting your shot with every pretty stranger you see.” It's a joke, but the idea of Spencer asking for the numbers of every pretty person in DC made your chest feel strangely tight— a light reminder that your crush was still going strong. And you’ve already turned him down.

“I’m not sure you’ve been paying close attention to me these past four months,” He jokes lightly.

“Oh, trust me, I have been.” The words tumble out before you can stop yourself, and you can feel your cheeks growing impossibly hot.

Spencer’s quick to tease, “You have been?”

You nod, trying to act like it's nothing but friendly, but your nervous breathing might give you away. You take a steady breath, happy to think that if he sees red on your cheeks, you can blame it on the cold weather.

Instead, he slows to a stop just steps away from your apartment complex. You stop, turning to look at him, and when you see him, all composure leaves you with one little glance. Spencer’s ears are red, his hazel eyes glued to yours, and his hands nervously fidget with his long purple scarf.

He draws in his lower lip nervously, his brow furrowing in the way that lets you know he’s meditating on something in that beautiful brain of his. His hands move as he begins to talk, “I have been too,”

With that, you feel all the air knocked out of you, and your trembling fingers hide in your pockets. You’re not sure what he wants you to say or do. It feels like a confession, making your heart pound in your chest. His sweet eyes study you, “I’m not sure what I—” He steps closer.

“Not sure what I want. All I know is that I feel something—” He makes a weird motion with his hands like he’s trying to shape his feelings with his hands. “Hopeful? I don’t know! I just,”

“I know.” You rasp out, nodding quickly. “I know.” You repeat it because you do know. You know what he’s feeling, that dangerous feeling of tentative hope, the sense that something is beginning again. The world shifting into focus and becoming colorful again.

Spencer’s gaze softens as that, and then the two of you just stare at each other for a moment. Guilt seemed to creep into your chest, invading your heart the longer you stared into those pleading brown eyes. Some part of you wanted to give it a shot, take him in your arms, and just let go. The stubborn part of you couldn’t let go of what you once knew.

What would you say to your friends— or worse, Alexander’s family? Thinking about being happy with someone else again felt like a betrayal.

Spencer could see the shift in your demeanor, the way your eyes glossed over with emotion, your back rigid, and he knew you weren’t ready. The feelings you were feeling were ones he wrestled with weeks ago after visiting Alexander’s grave. “I visited his grave without you a few times.”

Your brows knit together at that, stuttering gently as you manage a soft “Why?”

“I felt guilty about how I feel about you. I thought visiting his grave would make me back down, but it didn’t. I visited Maeve’s grave and thought about my feelings there too. She would have liked you.”

“Spencer, don’t–”

“You told me once that he would’ve wanted you to be happy with or without him. Why can’t you let yourself be happy? I know it’s uncharted territory; it is for me, too, and he knows you don’t love him any less–”

“You didn’t even know him!”

Spencer's lips draw into a tight line at that. You can’t stop yourself before saying, “You don’t understand the love I had for him. It was different from how you felt about Maeve. It was special.”

Your breathing is heavy, and you're trying to stop yourself from crying. The second you say it, you regret it. Your rigid posture slacks, and you step towards him quickly, but he steps back once you get closer.

“You don’t get to say that,” his voice is colder, his eyes cast down to his hands. Then he takes a sharp breath and looks up at you; his warm hazel gaze turns cold. “My love for her was just as special as yours was for Alexander. I can see that, even if you can’t. But at least I can see when something exceptional is right in front of me. Unlike you, I didn’t want it to slip through my fingers again.”

Your mouth feels dry as you try to respond, anger and guilt fighting an internal war inside you before Spencer turns on his heel and says, “Goodnight,”

The snow starts again as you watch him walk away, blinking flakes out of your lashes, cheeks red from the tears falling as you watch him disappear around the corner.

The conversation is still fresh in your mind at dinner with Alexander’s mom Tuesday night. She lives just outside the city in Maryland, so whenever she made her way into the city, you made it a point to meet up.

She watches the way you’re staring at your sandwich. The intense look you’re giving the meal almost makes her laugh. “Don’t be upset with the club. We can always get you another sandwich, dear.”

You raise your head slightly at that and let out a nervous laugh, “No, the sandwich is fine. I’m just thinking. I’m sorry, Shannon.”

Shannon lets out an understanding hum, waving you off with a simple flick of her wrist as you apologize. “Is it work?”

You give her an easy smile, “Ah, no. It’s… confusing and probably boring; don’t worry about it.” She gives you a little look that says, ‘Come on, really?’ and it makes your smile widen.

“When you retire, everything is confusing and boring, so lay it on me.”

“Shannon, please, I promise you don—”

“I will make you pay for this meal; do not force my hand.”

“I am paying?”

“Exactly. Now tell me what’s on your mind.”

You slump in your seat and nod in defeat. “Alright, well,” you wet your lips nervously, trying to figure out the best way to tell her. “You remember last time I mentioned that I had that friend from the group? The genius—Spencer.”

Shannon nods, motioning for you to keep going slowly, “Well, lately, he and I have become aware of some feelings for each other, and I–” You can feel your legs trembling, “He just doesn’t get it. I can’t do that to Alex or you. He just doesn’t understand—”

“Sweetheart, slow down.” She held up a hand, an amused look on her face as you rambled at the speed of light. “Start over.”

You let out a little huff, trying to calm your growing nerves. You roll your shoulders back, gaining some composure, “I have feelings for him, and I thought it was just a passing crush, but now it’s getting so messy. And he told me that he has feelings for me too, but I told him off, and we haven’t talked in four days– which would be fine if we didn’t fight, but we did— and I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“He’s really sweet and great, but I just… I keep thinking about my love for Alex and don’t want to let go of him.” Your voice gets quiet with the admission. “I’m happy loving just him, only him.” Your voice shakes lightly, forcing your gaze down, your eyes filling with tears.

You hated telling her this— hated telling her that your stupid heart found itself attached to someone other than her son. You mentally prepare yourself for something, anything, yet you still cringe when you feel her hand rest on yours.

“He’s dead–”

“I know–”

“No, listen,” Shannon says sternly, watching as you lift your gaze to meet hers. “He’s dead. Every day, I have to remind myself he’s dead. I know you do, too.” She frowns for a second before she gives you a weak smile. “But, you? You’re alive. You’ve experienced a loss no one should have to experience at your age, and yet here you are. Would he be ecstatic over you falling in love with someone else? Not quite, but I know my son. He wouldn’t want you to be alone. Or worse, unhappy.”

You blink away tears, your bottom lip trembling, “I don’t want to forget him,”

“Who said you’re going to?” Shannon jokes lightly, giving your hand a light squeeze. After a moment, she whispers, “Knowing Alex, he probably sent Spencer your way.”

You laugh at the idea, but the sound dissolves into a little sob, “He would.”

Shannon brightens momentarily, “He was always jealous of how good you were at trivia night. Maybe he wanted someone to beat you for once?”

“Spencer can!” You laugh harder than you should, but you can’t help it. You picture Alex’s face, joking about how you have too much useless knowledge in your brain.

As your laughter dies away, a wave of anxiety rolls over you. “I was awful to him last Friday.”

“Then make it up to him,”

After much deliberation, you knew you would, or at least, you would die trying. The next meeting was in two weeks, which seemed too far out. After three texts, two calls, and one voicemail, you decided to go to him.

You had been to Spencer’s apartment once before and were sure it was on this block… maybe. It was early Saturday morning, and you could only hope he would look out his window and see you pacing the sidewalk.

But an hour passed, and the cold wind forced you into a coffee shop down the block. Shivering as you waited for your coffee, you glanced at the unread texts you sent him one last time before stuffing your phone back into your pocket.

Clearly, he didn’t want to see you, much less talk to you. You chewed on your bottom lip, lost in thought until you resolved that seeing him at the next meeting would have to do if he didn’t text you back before then.

And so, two weeks and no texts back later, you sat in your usual foldable seat and waited. But he never showed. Your eyes watched the doors patiently, and you counted every last participant, thinking that the next one had to be Spencer.

But they weren’t. He was nowhere to be found. You had sat on your feelings for him for weeks, sat on with nasty comments and behavior for two weeks, and found yourself still waiting. He didn’t have to attend every meeting, but you felt even more desperate than before. Hating the feeling, you left halfway through.

It wasn’t like you could force him to talk to or forgive you. But it hurt knowing just how much you had hurt him. Were you being selfish for wanting a chance to confess to him again? Was it selfish how you looked for him in every crowd?

The unfortunate reality of your pain was that you were so scared of falling in love again that you pushed love away before it could even touch you. You found yourself driving to Alex’s grave that night. It was out of your way, but you didn’t want to go home just to wait by the phone again.

After parking in a nearby parking lot, you found yourself standing in the middle of a very dark, isolated cemetery. If Spencer were here, he would say how dangerous this was, maybe even throw in a statistic just to solidify his point.

You smile, eyes adjusting in the moonlight as you look down at your dead lover’s grave. You crouch, touching a bouquet of almost-dead flowers at the foot of his grave. “Was I bad at this with you, too?” Your fingers trace the brittle petals of a dying rose.

You can hear the crunching of gravel and slush approaching you, and a part of you freezes. As the sound gets closer, you can hear panting, your head turning cautiously to look for your rapidly approaching company.

When you see the silhouette of a man not too far down the trail, you tense. How stupid were you to be in a secluded area in the middle of the night? You curse under your breath and stay crouched, hoping it’s just a late-night jogger passing through and that he won’t see you if you stay low.

Your eyes stay on the figure, and you mentally go over possible escape plans when you see it— a messenger bag. What kind of serial killer or jogger wears a messenger bag? Your tense shoulders briefly relax for a second at the thought.

Then, a hint of moonlight illuminates your huffing stranger— messy brown hair and a crooked tie. You stand, “Spencer?” You say his name when he approaches you, the moonlight letting you get a glimpse of his soft eyes for a moment. “What are you… How’d you know I’d be here? What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t at the meeting,” He huffs, leaning over to rest his palms on his knees.

“I–” You scoff, slightly amused. “I left early. Did you show up?”

“No,” he admits, his tone becoming sharper as he catches his breath. “No, I–” he hesitates for a moment, “I saw your car on my way home, and I got worried, and I–” He roughly drags a hand through his curls, “You shouldn’t be in isolated places like this late at night.”

Your shocked expression melts, and your lips quirk into a slight smile. Spencer sees this and responds sharply, “I’m being serious!”

You hold up both hands, “I know, I—” You sigh, a slight chuckle following the sound before you say, “I knew you were going to say that. I could hear your voice when I parked across the street.”

“Maybe you should listen to it sometime,”

You nod, and then a moment of cold silence follows. The two of you stare at each other for a long moment before you feel your lips moving against your will, “You never called,”

Spencer can feel his heartbeat quicken, “Wasn’t aware I had to.”

“You didn’t have to. I just would have–” You cut yourself off, nervously licking your lips. “I wanted you to.”

Spencer stays quiet before he replies with a soft “I’m sorry,”

You find your smile returning as you shake your head, “That’s my line,”

He lets a little chuckle at that, ready to tell you it’s okay, when you quickly add, “I’m sorry for how I acted three weeks ago. I shouldn’t have been so cruel or close-minded, and I should have been honest with you about my feelings. I’m sorry I pushed you away. I’m sorry for implying your love for Maeve wasn’t special. Oh, Spencer,” You let out a heartbroken sigh, “I feel terrible. I was such a bad friend, and these past few weeks, all I’ve wanted to do is make it up to you.”

You can feel the tears threatening to fill your vision, your cheeks burning in the cold as you let out a meek, “Tell me there’s something I can do to make it up to you,”

Spencer can see your pleading eyes in the moonlight, and his chest tightens at the sight. Ignoring your calls and texts wasn’t easy, but he was convinced that it was the right thing to do. You weren’t ready to move on, and neither was he— not completely, but he didn’t want to try with anyone else. He only wanted to try with you.

He swallows thickly when he says a sweet “You’ve already done it,” Then you’re beaming at him, and he’s right back where he was three weeks ago. As you dry your misting eyes, he softly confesses, “I watched You’ve Got Mail.” He pauses, smiling lightly when you give him a surprised look through your tears. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, so I–” He nervously moved his hands as he talked, “I watched any Romcom that I could get my hands on because I—”

You smile as he trails off, his hands twisting together in that nervous way that tells you he’s scared to say the rest of his sentence— he’s too afraid to say he missed you. “Me too,” You confess, “I missed you, too.”

He nods, a grin on his face as he looks at you. He can feel his confession rising in his throat, his lips moving awkwardly as he tries to gain the confidence to confess to you again.

But, before he can say anything, you’re speaking, “I don’t know if you still feel the same as you did three weeks ago, but I–” You swallow hard, clearing your throat softly. Your hands move with you as you speak, the cold making them feel slightly stiff. “For the longest time, I couldn’t imagine myself happy with anyone other than Alex.” You blow out a sigh, glancing back at his tombstone. “I thought one great love was enough— I only deserved one. I was happy with that, and I felt lucky for it.”

You can feel yourself trembling, and you don’t know if it’s the cold or your nerves getting the better of you; nonetheless, you keep going, “But lately, I’ve been thinking— hoping really— that you’re the expectation.” You squeeze your eyes tight at that last bit, trying to calm your breathing as you wait for his response.

“If anyone deserves more than one great love, it’s you.” Spencer’s voice sounds closer, soft.

When you open your eyes, you realize he is closer, inches from you. You gaze up at him, giving him a light smile when he whispers, “We can take it slower,”

“I like slower.”

He laughs and nods, “Me too,” he holds out a cold hand for you to take, “Let me walk you to your car?”

You stare at his palm, watching your cold fingers intertwine with his. The sensation makes the tips of your fingers buzz with anticipation. You feel his hand gives yours a slight squeeze before guiding you to the parking lot across the street.

It’s not the last time you walk side-by-side, holding hands in the middle of the cold East Coast winter, and he’s determined to make sure it’s not your last.

And whenever anyone asks how the two of you met, Spencer lets you tell the story, his hand slipping into yours as you say, “Well, it’s a bit of a long story.”

#fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #dr spencer reid #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #spencer x you #spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid criminal minds #dr reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #...and fall in love whenever you can #it-was-summer

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coqhee · 1 month ago

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﹙✧﹚ㅤㅤ TO THE MOON AND BACK, I LOVE YOU

ALT ✷ you never liked astronomy until you met han taesan, your crush since freshman year. in an attempt to get closer with him, why not drag along the boy that's been there all along? ∘ ∘ ∘ catalogue \ romance told

西村力 x f!r ―ㅤ fluffㅤ comedyㅤ &&ㅤ f2lㅤ ⨯ㅤ 3533

em's note ★ yay!! first romance: told fic out!! it only took this long!!! hope the anon who requested it enjoyed :3 btw I've never been to a planetarium lawl...

─── ♡

when you found out that your crush, han taesan, was taking astronomy for an elective in senior year, you immediately put that down instead of your originally planned “late arrival”. a free point five elective credit AND a chance to see your crush one last time? hell yeah. but then came the realization—you had no idea who else was in the class, and the last thing you wanted was to be stuck alone with a bunch of people you barely talked to.

so, naturally, you turned to nishimura riki. the weird boy that you had always been friends with since before you could even fathom.

“riki, please take astronomy with me,” you had begged, practically hanging off his arm.

“absolutely not,” he had deadpanned, barely looking up from his phone. “i’m not trading MY late arrival so you can go the tan haesan.”

“it’s han taesan, but whatever. don’t leave me alone.” you had whined, poking his shoulder. “what if everyone sucks? what if i end up next to some weird freshie who smells like expired milk?”

“then don’t take a class that would have freshmen in it?”

"but jungwon is taking it," you pointed out, as if that was all the reasoning he needed.

riki sighed, finally glancing up from his phone. “so? what does that have to do with me?” riki hates to admit it but he knew he would already be talking to his counselor the next day to swap out his cherished sleep period.

you huffed, dramatically slumping against his shoulder. “because I don’t want to suffer alone,” you mumbled. “i need my best friend with me.”

at that, riki stiffened for just a second before rolling his eyes. “you’re so annoying,” he muttered, but you caught the way his lips twitched—like he was already considering it.

“please?” you dragged out the word, gripping his sleeve and giving him the best pleading look you could manage.

“fine,” he grumbled, shoving his phone into his pocket

you beamed, throwing your arms around him in excitement. “i knew you loved me.”

“yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but his ears burned a little red.

he made it sound like a hassle, like you had dragged him into it against his will. but really, it wasn’t like he needed much convincing. if there was anyone he’d willingly lose his late arrival period for, it was you.

─── ♡

on the first day of the new year after summer break had ended, you walked into period 1 to see taesan already sitting in the middle row, scrolling through his phone. your heart did that stupid little flip it always did when you saw him, and for a split second, you forgot riki was even behind you.

“oh my god, you’re so obvious,” riki muttered, elbowing you in the side as he followed your line of sight.

“shut up,” you hissed, shoving him back before making your way toward an empty seat behind where taesan was sitting.

before you and riki could bicker further like you always did, class started to your dismay and it was finally starting to settle in that the two of you were in for a class, neither of you cared about.

riki let out an exaggerated sigh as he slumped in his seat. “this is your fault,” he whispered, tapping his pencil mindlessly against the desk. “we could be in bed right now.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “oh please, you would’ve just spent that extra hour playing video games.”

“exactly,” he grumbled. “prime gaming time, wasted on stars.”

before you could retort, the teacher started going over the syllabus, droning on about assignments, projects, and participation. you tried to pay attention, but your gaze kept flickering to the back of taesan’s head, watching the way he absentmindedly spun his pen between his fingers.

riki caught you staring and groaned. “this is painful to watch.”

“then don’t watch,” you shot back, crossing your arms.

he gave you a deadpan look. “i have to. it’s like witnessing a car crash in slow motion.”

you stifled a laugh, “shut up and take notes.” shoving his hand back to his paper, away from doodling on your fresh blue, 70 page, college rule notebook.

“uh huh”

you shook your head, turning your attention back to the front just in time to hear the teacher announcing partner assignments for the semester-long project.

“please let me be with riki,” you whispered under your breath, fingers crossed beneath the desk.

riki hummed in agreement. “i swear if i end up with some guy who doesn’t know the difference between a planet and a star, i’m dropping this class.”

but, of course, fate had other plans.

“y/n l/n and han taesan.”

your stomach flipped. riki turned to you slowly, horror written all over his face.

“no way,” he whispered.

but there was no taking it back now. taesan turned slightly in his seat, a small smile tugging at his lips. “guess we’re partners,” he said, voice smooth and easygoing.

“yeah,” you breathed, hoping you sounded normal and not like your brain had short-circuited.

riki gagged dramatically beside you.

“nishimura riki… you’ll be working with…oh, looks like we have an odd number, you can join y/n and taesan,” the teacher called.

riki perked up instantly, all traces of his previous horror vanishing. “oh, sick,” he muttered under his breath, shooting you a victorious smirk.

you, on the other hand, were caught between relief and something dangerously close to disappointment. you weren’t even sure why—you wanted riki to be your partner, didn’t you? but now, instead of getting to work one-on-one with taesan, riki was right there in the middle, like a human buffer.

taesan didn’t seem fazed, though. he turned back to you both with a nod. “works for me.”

riki leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “yeah, totally. wouldn’t want my best friend suffering alone.”

you elbowed him under the desk.

the teacher moved on, and taesan shifted slightly to face you. “do you guys wanna meet after school to start planning?”

“sure,” you answered at the same time riki groaned.

the rest of class went by in a blur, the lecture on introductory astronomy terms barely registering in your brain. every so often, your gaze would flicker to taesan, watching the way he twirled his pen, the way his lips pursed ever so slightly when he was concentrating. it wasn’t fair how effortlessly cool he looked doing the most mundane things.

“you’re doing it again,” riki muttered beside you, barely moving his lips.

“doing what?” you whispered back, eyes still locked on the front of the classroom.

“staring at him like he hung the stars in the sky.”

─── ♡

riki had been enduring your hopeless crush on han taesan for seven full days now, and, frankly, he was over it.

“you know, i really just don’t get what you like so much about him. he’s just a guy,” riki muttered, barely dodging the kick you sent his way from across the library table.

“oh my god, shut up,” you whispered harshly, glancing around to make sure no one had overheard. “and just a guy? you make it sound like i’m drooling over some random dude.”

riki raised an eyebrow. “you are drooling over some random dude.”

you ignored him, instead recalling your advances towards taesan, convincing yourself that it was going just great.

on the second day of class, and you had strategically chosen to sit beside taesan instead of riki, much to the latter’s dismay. you figured starting small was the way to go—nothing too forward, just a simple, friendly compliment.

“i like your hoodie,” you had said, giving him what you hoped was a casual but cute smile.

taesan barely glanced up from his laptop. “thanks, my mom got it for me.”

…that was it. no follow-up, no return compliment, no you’d look good in one too—nothing. you had expected something to work with, but instead, he had gone right back to typing like you hadn’t even spoken.

gosh, it was like he wasn’t even interested in you.

on the fourth day of class when you figured you were going to make another attempt to talk to him.

“oh, i saw that you listened to understand by keshi on your story” you had mentioned casually as you slid into your seat beside him. “such a good song.”

taesan had nodded. “oh yeah, it’s good.”

you had stared at him for a moment, waiting for anything more, before finally just pulling out your own notebook in defeat.

and of course, riki, from his seat across the room, had been watching the entire thing unfold, shaking his head in barely concealed amusement. riki had been patient—far more patient than he normally was—but after an entire week of watching you fumble through failed attempts at flirting, he had reached his limit.

"alright," he announced, slamming his notebook shut. "i can’t take this anymore."

you blinked at him, caught off guard. "what?"

"this," he gestured wildly between you and the table, "this pathetic, one-sided crush. you’re driving me insane."

you scowled. "wow, thanks for the support, best friend."

he ignored you, leaning forward with an exasperated sigh. "look, it’s not happening. you’ve tried, like, four different approaches, and taesan has given you nothing to work with. it’s time to move on."

"i can’t just move on," you grumbled, crossing your arms. "it’s not that simple."

"oh, it’s that simple," riki countered, standing up and grabbing his bag. "and you know what? i’m gonna help you."

you eyed him warily. "help me how?"

he smirked. "by showing you what it’s like to actually have fun with someone who does pay attention to you. plus i already bought tickets to the studio ghibli movie fest for tonight and the rest of next week, so you’re going.”

“you’re joking,” you gasped with excitement, jumping up and down, loud enough for the two of you to get kicked out of the library. but who cares when you could go see ponyo tonight, howls moving castle tomorrow and every other ghibli movie for the rest of the week.

he shook his head with that familiar, comforting smile, "this is already more fun than whatever you thought you had going on with taesan," he said, nudging your temple with his knuckles.

you sighed, leaning into his side for a moment. "yeah," you admitted, and for the first time in a week, you actually believed it.

─── ♡

throughout the week, you still found yourself looking for taesan, but not nearly as much as you used to.

by the third night of the ghibli fest, you had almost forgotten why you had been so fixated on han taesan in the first place. between sneaking in your own snacks, debating over which ghibli protagonist had the best character arc, and riki dramatically reenacting scenes on the way home, your mind was too occupied to obsess over every little interaction with taesan.

but that didn’t mean you never looked for him.

in class, your eyes still wandered toward his seat before you could stop yourself, scanning for any hint that maybe he had started to notice you back. but taesan was always the same—calm, polite, distant.

“you’re doing it again,” riki muttered under his breath, flipping his pen between his fingers.

“doing what?” you asked, even though you knew exactly what.

you shot him a glare. “i’m not staring.”

riki gave you a pointed look.

“…i was just glancing,” you clarified, sinking into your seat.

he snorted. “whatever helps you sleep at night.”

but the thing was, riki was right.

taesan was never rude—if anything, he was nice in that effortless, detached way that made it impossible to tell whether he actually cared about your presence or was just being polite. he answered your questions, acknowledged your comments, but never extended the conversation past necessity.

and after a week of being around riki—who never once let a moment fall flat, who filled every second with banter, laughter, and the kind of easygoing energy that made everything feel lighter—you were starting to realize just how dull it was trying to get taesan’s attention.

“hey,” riki nudged your arm, bringing you back to the present. “movie’s at seven tonight. spirited away. we’re going, no excuses.”

you sighed, but you couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at your lips. “yeah, okay.”

maybe looking for taesan wasn’t worth it anymore.

on the final night of the ghibli fest, you and riki found yourselves in your usual seats—middle row, slightly to the left, close enough to the screen without being too close. you had gotten used to this routine by now: sneaking in snacks, arguing over who got to hold the drinks, riki making dramatic commentary under his breath just to annoy you.

but something about tonight felt different.

it could’ve been the way that he already had bought your entire movie theater snack order before you even arrived, the way your heart skipped when he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "if this movie makes you cry like you always do, i won’t judge,”

“i never cry at movies,” you shot back, ignoring the way your face felt weirdly warm.

“uh-huh,” riki smirked. “that’s what you said during my neighbor totoro, and yet—”

“i had something in my eye,” you interrupted quickly, shoving a handful of popcorn into your mouth to avoid further discussion.

it felt like it could’ve been normal, but the air between the two of you had shifted, and part of you didn’t want to jump to a conclusion or even admit that it had shifted to begin with by any means.

he just chuckled, settling back into his seat. but his arm stayed where it was, fingers still lightly tapping against your shoulder. while you should’ve been focused on the movie, every fiber of you wasn’t. instead you were focused riki, taking a second longer glance everytime the two of you leaned over to make some dumb and stupid comment.

when the movie was over and riki had teased you for how you cried once again, you rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag and following him out into the cool night air. but as you walked side by side down the quiet street, the warmth of his arm against yours lingering like an unspoken thought, you couldn’t help but wonder—

when did everything start feeling like this?

since when did your heart start beating so fast, pumping so much blood it felt exhilarating just being around riki.

you didn’t know when it started.

you just knew that it had.

─── ♡

the next day in class, you found yourself sliding back to the seat next to riki as usual, all of a sudden not finding the back of taesan’s head that interesting.

you were doodling on your page listening to your teacher explain the moon’s orbit in relation to earth, then somehow get onto a tangent about the moon’s symbolization in cultures.

before you could zone out completely, the teacher clapped their hands together, bringing the class to attention.

“alright, everyone! before we continue, i have an announcement—next friday, we’ll be taking a class field trip to the planetarium.”

your head perked up at that.

“you’ll need to complete a small assignment while we’re there,” the teacher added over the mix of groans and excited whispers. “but other than that, you’ll have plenty of time to explore.”

immediately, you turned to riki, already knowing he’d be your partner. he was grinning, kicking your foot under the desk. “guess that means we get a free pass to mess around.”

“or,” you corrected, “we could actually pay attention.”

he snorted. “we both know that’s not happening.”

you just rolled your eyes, shifting back in your seat as the teacher dimmed the lights to play a video about the moon’s phases.

a few minutes in, riki nudged your elbow. when you glanced over, he was pointing at his notebook, where he’d drawn a very questionable-looking moon with a lopsided smile.

you bit back a laugh. “what is that?”

“the moon,” he whispered, as if it were obvious. “but, like, happier.”

you shook your head, flipping to a new page in your notebook. with a few quick strokes, you sketched out your own version—a smoother crescent with little stars around it. riki peeked at it and scoffed. “show-off.”

you grinned, flipping your pencil in your fingers. “you’re just mad mine looks better.”

“whatever,” he muttered, turning his attention back to the video—but not before sneaking one last glance at your drawing.

toward the end of class, as you were packing up, taesan passed by and nodded toward your desk. “what were you two so focused on?”

before you could answer, riki shoved his notebook under his arm, grinning. “just academic excellence.”

you snorted, and taesan just gave a small, amused nod before heading out. once he was gone, you turned to riki with a knowing look.

“academic excellence?”

“obviously,” he said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “what else would it be?”

you just laughed, shaking your head as you fell into step beside him.

─── ♡

the planetarium was dim, lit mostly by the soft glow of the exhibit lights, casting shadows across riki’s face as he stood beside you. the hum of other students echoed faintly in the background, but you hardly noticed.

the two of you took your seats underneath the large screen and gazed up into the above, admiring the way the stars swirled in the galaxy.

just how small the two of you were in the giant universe, yet here this moment existed for just the two of you to remember.

you smiled softly to yourself. there was something comforting about it all. something warm and endless and beautiful.

but you didn’t notice the way riki never looked up.

while you sat there, eyes wide with wonder, his gaze never left you. not even for a second.

he watched the way your lips parted just slightly in awe, the way your eyes shone under the artificial starlight. how still you became when you were lost in something you loved. and maybe it was dramatic—maybe it was just the darkness, or the quiet, or the closeness—but in that moment, you looked more magical than any of the stars above.

“the earth and the moon: an eternal dance. though nearly 400,000 kilometers apart, the moon’s pull shapes the tides of the earth. it never strays far, always orbiting—faithful, constant. even in darkness, it reflects light. it stays.” the narration continued on,.

you smiled faintly and pointed up. next to you, riki followed your gaze, then tilted his head.

“sounds kind of dramatic,” he murmured, nudging your elbow. “like some tragic love story.”

you continued looking at the spherical projected figure, amused. “i think it’s kind of sweet. the moon never leaves.”

riki hummed in response. then, so quietly you almost missed it, he said, “i’d stay, too.”

your breath caught in your throat.

you tried to play it off with a gentle nudge to his side. “stop being weird.”

you finally looked down, ready to say something about the way the moon was just so pretty.

riki was already looking at you.

and he wasn’t embarrassed about it. he didn’t look away, didn’t pretend to be interested in the show you’d both come to see.

his eyes were soft, unblinking. like you were the one he had come for.

“you’re not even watching,” you whispered, voice shaky, heart louder than it should’ve been.

riki tilted his head, lips curving into the smallest smile.

“i am,” he said quietly. “just not the stars. or the moon for that matter.”

you froze, breath caught somewhere between your chest and your throat. he didn’t look away. not even for a second.

“you know,” riki continued, voice just low enough for only you to hear, “if the moon really is 400,000 kilometers away, i think i love you to the moon and back,”

“riki…” you whispered, unsure what you meant to say next. you felt breathless, like the words were still catching up to the moment.

but he only leaned back slightly in his seat, his shoulder brushing yours. “you don’t have to say anything,” he said, softer now. “i just… i wanted you to know.”

your fingers twisted in your lap, eyes flickering back up to the stars for just a second, like they might tell you what to do next. they didn’t. they just kept spinning silently across the domed ceiling, beautiful and endless.

you turned to him again. “i think,” you said slowly, “that maybe… maybe i’ve been looking in the wrong direction.”

he looked at you then—not surprised, but quietly hopeful. like he’d been waiting for you to realize it.

“yeah?” he asked, voice steady but a little too careful.

you nodded. “yeah.”

suddenly, the stars or the moon weren’t the brightest thing in the room anymore.

and somewhere above you, the moon kept orbiting the earth. steady. constant. never fully leaving the planet’s side.

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sexilene · 1 year ago

Note

MORE 80s SLASHER JOHN B!! PLEASE I BEG

YESSS OFC!!! (sorry about any misspellings, ignore em lol!)

₊ ⊹ warnings! 18+ - pinv, slight gaslighting, violence, death, spanking, drowning, dark!john b but also kinda sweet john b in a concerning way lol- ₊˚⊹

john b watched you from afar, sitting on a picnic table in the shade making yarn bracelets with some of the kids in his group, his eyes never leaving your figure for more than a few seconds. you were chatting away with one of the other counselors and a few of the little girls in your group. the little girls were teasing you and the guy, richie, by asking if you were boyfriend and girlfriend and to "kissss" each other.

"no way am i kissin' him! i happen to think that boys are pretty gross don't you think?" you smile playfully, placing your hands on your hips.

"awwe come on! i'm not gross am i?" richie pretends to be offended and places his hand over his heart, making the little girls giggle.

"mm hmm, you sure are!"

you squeal when richie suddenly lifts you over his shoulder and walks towards the shore of lake like he's going to throw you in. john b decides that's enough and jogs over before richie can throw you in.

"hey man, put her down…wouldn't want any accidents right? the nearest emergency room isn't for a few miles, and the camp hasn't got the best first aid." john b warns, squinting his eyes and tilting his head, almost like he's implying something else.

"we were just kiddin' around johnny!" richie laughs as he sets you down, your feet touching the sand again. john b clenches his jaw at the nickname and nods like he understands.

"s'alright johnbee, got him just in time!" you smile, trying to relieve the tension between the clearly upset brunette and the cocky red head.

"alright girls! how about we go see if we can use the finger paints now?" you ask the group of little girls who nod and agree, two of the girls taking your hands and leading you back up the hill, leaving john b and richie there.

the next morning, the older kid group and their counselor decide to use the canoes for a morning activity. as they make it out onto the lake one of the kid's ores smacks against something causing all the kids to look at the water. the boy in the front then points to the object, yelling out a loud "HOLY SHIT!". there, floating face up, is richie's blue, dead body, with some froth present around his nostrils and mouth.

you stand outside with the other counselors in pajamas after keeping all the kids away from the area and doing activities elsewhere. the paramedics take richie away in a body bag and your heart sinks, john b stands behind you, the warmth of his body and just the smell of him somehow calming you down a bit.

"what do you think could have happened to him?" you look up at john b with wide teary puppy eyes, worried he might have something to do with it since the…incident.

"i dunno sweetheart, he must have gone out for a late night swim, probably accidentally drowned…" he wraps his arm around your front and you bring your hand up to place over his.

"let's hope we can get through the summer without the parents pulling their kids out," he whispers.

"johnbee?"

"hmm?"

"you didn't- you know…" he just sighs and attempts to pull you back into his embrace, but you won't get any closer until he answers your question. when he only looks at you and doesn't say a word you start to walk away from him, and back to your cabin, confused and frustrated. but of course that doesn't go well with him, he won't tolerate you walking away from him like that, so he follows you and enters your cabin room behind you and shuts the door.

"lisetn to me, hey hey, look at me. i know you might still be a little scared of me but you don't need to be. okay?" he starts off gently, trying to level with you as calmly as he can be.

"ohkay…" you sigh and turn to look at him, you really don't want to have this conversation with him right now after being overwhelmed with so many things happening at once.

"i'd never do anything to hurt you, m'just trying to keep you safe that's all."

"i know…" you whisper

"good. that's why i do the things i do…i have a responsibility to watch out for these kids and when i think someone is dangerous then-"

"i don't want to hear you say it…" you interrupt him and shake your head with tears springing at your waterline. john b knows how you get when you feel conflicted or rather overwhelmed, he's seen it before when you get stressed while dealing with the kids.

"okay, alright…hey c'mere," he pulls you into a hug, his bulky body effectively enveloping you as you press your cheek to his chest.

"you really scared me that night-"

"didn't mean to bub, i promise not to do that again." he sighs, shaking his head though you can't see him.

"i really liked you."

"liked?"

"i- still do, s'just that-" you ramble.

"hey hey stop, breaaathe…breathe for me. let's do something okay? something to calm you down a little, y'gonna let me do that for you?" he soothes, bending down to meet your teary eyes. the minute you make eye contact with him you nod.

"words." he chides, needing to hear you confirm that you wanted it.

"yes, yes john b.." you whisper shyly.

"'m gonna take these off, aaand these pretty panties," he whispers gently, taking you through what he is currently doing. sliding down your little pink sleep shorts and white cotton panties, the fabrics pooling around your feet. john b then takes off his loose-fitted cropped sleep shirt and tosses it to the side, nodding his head over to your bed. he takes your hand and guides you over, taking a seat and lifting you up onto his meaty thigh.

"just gonna sit you on it and its gonna relax you alright?"

"its not gonna fit,"

"fit last time." he laughs through his nose and pulls himself out of his plaid pajama pants, you looked down at his dick, much bigger than you remembered and your cunt already began to clench around nothing. picking you up like nothing, you wrap your arms around his neck, john b impales your drippy wet cunt on his huge cock. the stretch making your eyes roll back momentarily and muffle you your cries on the skin between his shoulder and neck

"shshsh, its in, its in…" he coos, rubbing your back. "just turn your brain off bubba."

as soon as he can feel that you've relaxed and adjusted to his size he starts to move your hips back in forth with a gentle grip of his huge hands.

"i did kill riche, i had to do it to protect you baby…it's my job." you mewl at his confession and clench around his dick, earning a low groan out of him. he knew you wouldn't really register what he was telling you but at least he wouldn't feel guilty since he did just tell you the truth.

"jus' don't want you to hurt me," you whine.

"never, never…love you so much," he assures you, now using his strength to bounce you up and down slightly.

"don't gotta think about anything bub, just let me do all the work." he looks down and the bulge that presses against your lower stomach, making him hiss and squeeze the meat of your ass roughly.

"reall-really like you jombee…" you cry, tangling your fingers into the back of his hair, trying to keep yourself grounded as he bounces you on his fat cock.

"need to hear you say you love me, baby." he grunts, smacking your ass cheek harshly.

"love you, love you somuch, i really wanna cum please!" you squeal as he continues to use your sloppy wet pussy.

"i know bub, whenever you want, m'right there." john b stops bouncing you and lets you sink back down on him fully, then presses his thumb down hard on your clit. you mewl out pathetically as you cum and pulse all over him until he fills you up from just feeling you cum on him.

"fuck, so pretty, my pretty puppy." he smiles and presses a wet kiss to your cheek and wipes away the tears that happen to fall down your face.

"y'feel better now? hmm?"

"mm hmm…" still seated on him, leaking cum around the base of his dick, you hazily drop your cheek on his shoulder.

575 notes · View notes

seouljazzbar · 11 months ago

Text

BUNK 19

SONG EUNSEOK (송은석)

☆ BUNK 19

ABOUT 𓂃 ࣪˖ what happens in bunk 19 does in fact stay in bunk 19. and the boathouse. and the dining hall. and the tennis courts. and the counselor jacuzzi.

WARNING 𓂃 ࣪˖ language, fake camp name, aespa + nct appearances, a smidge of angst, penetrative sex (f. receiving, both vaginal and anal), lots of spitting, a challengers reference if you squint, object insertion (do not try this at home), unprotected sex, daddy kink, random fluff, two seconds of physical violence

PAIRING 𓂃 ࣪˖ camp counselor!eunseok x camp counselor!reader (camp counselor au, summer fling to...?)

WORD COUNT 𓂃 ࣪˖ 8k of wickedness

THIS FIC FEELS LIKE 𓂃 ࣪˖ buzzin by shwayze

“Who else is here?”

It was the first question out of Eunseok’s mouth when he got settled into his cabin for the summer: bunk nineteen. That was the very first bunk he stayed in when he became a counselor freshman year of university. Now a recent graduate, this was going to be his last summer at Camp Watauga before entering the workforce. He intended to soak up every minute of it with no regrets.

“The staff are filtering in slowly, but not too many counselors just yet. You, Mark, and ___.”

His ears perked up at the mention of your name, but he kept a cool exterior. “Oh, really? Not too many indeed.” His hands made home in his pockets as Director Irwin led him to the main hall. There was nothing but the echo of footsteps and birds chirping just outside as they walked to the break room, and that’s when he heard it. Your voice.

Mark was laughing at something you said, something Eunseok missed entirely. “Hi, ___. Mark.”

You spun on your heels without thinking twice, eyebrows shooting up at the sight of all five eight and eleven inches of him. He looked different— hair lighter, jaw sharper, shoulders wider. But you didn’t let yourself focus on him for more than the appropriate amount of time to stare at your coworker: one and a half seconds, exactly. “Eunseok, hey!” Your tone was light, casual. Easy breezy.

“Alright, well now that you’re all checked in, you’re free to roam! Kitchen’s doing meals same time as regular camp hours, if you get hungry. Just, please, no illegal substances where I can see ‘em. I wanna be able to keep plausible deniability.”

Director Irwin left without a glance back at the three of you, all of you erupting into a fit of giggles the second you heard the door shut. “Dude, he’s so funny without even trying to be.” Mark nudged at your shoulder, looking at Eunseok with a goofy grin on his face. “Right?”

“Yeah, I always forget just how weird he gets,” Eunseok returned the smile, looking over to see if you were smiling too. That gorgeous, sparkling smile. “What are you two gonna get into for the rest of the day? At least until dinner.”

Mark stretched his hands in the air, his shirt riding up just enough to expose his taut abs. Eunseok noticed your eyes on Mark’s skin, your teeth sinking into your lower lip. “I was thinking about going into town, getting a couple cases of beer or something for the kickback tomorrow night. Minjeong, Jimin, and Haechan get in tomorrow and we’re gonna have a pre-camp rager. You guys down?”

“Ooh, I’m always down for a party with Jimin. She knows how to let loose.” You winked at Mark, blush instantly striking his cheeks.

“Alright, cool, I’ll make sure to get enough then,” His head turned over to Eunseok, “What about you, bro?”

A party was not his plan for tomorrow night, but he figured it’d be easier to play along for now. “Yeah, sounds fun,” He pulled his sunglasses down over the bridge of his nose, “I like Modelo.”

Mark laughed, heartily. He was so easily amused. “Alright, I’ll catch y’all at dinner?” He was out the door after two quick side-hugs, shaking his keys all the way to his car. The engine was loud as it started up, and you could hear the car shifting its way up the gravel driveway. The hall was quiet otherwise, just the smacking of Eunseok’s chewing gum, the minty peppermint wafting far enough for you to smell it on his breath.

You moved first, pushing him by the shoulder as he kept his arms crossed against his chest. “Oh, c’mon. You can’t really think I want Mark.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

“I mean, he’s cool and all. And really hot, but… you’re sluttier.”

Eunseok rolls his eyes, closing the gap between the two of you, caging you against one of the break benches. “Hm, that’s it? You only want me because you think I’m a sure thing? Well I never!”

You giggle, glancing around the break room before swooping in for a kiss. Sweet, soft lips that you had been dreaming about for nine long months. His sunglasses smushed against your face but you ignored the slight discomfort as his hands found your ass. A handful for each of his palms, fingers kneading into each cheek with appreciation. You could feel your nipples hardening against his chest, the paper thin material of your bra heightening the sensation of his firm pecs. Eunseok was making you all warm and fuzzy again. “I missed you.”

“Yeah? You sure? Sure you didn’t miss Mark Lee more?”

“You’re so annoying! Wasting valuable time talking about a nonissue.”

His hands spread your cheeks apart just barely, just enough for you to take notice. “Valuable time? What else do you reckon we could be doing right now?”

Your mouth fell open as he kissed along your jawline. “W-Well I was thinking…”

“Mhm?”

He took a detour down your neck, floating right to your sweet spot just beneath your earlobe. “The counselor cabins are really close by, i-if you’re free.” Keeping your eyes open was a chore as he nipped at the skin of your neck erotically. “Eunseok, seriously. We’re gonna get caught.”

“What, that doesn’t turn you on anymore?” His palm revved back to strike your ass, squeezing afterwards to soothe the skin. “You know I’m always free for you, ___.”

Eunseok could smell your arousal through the thin material of your panties and shorts, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as all the blood in his body rushed to the front of his pants. Any notion of taking it slow with you went out the window as he grabbed your wrist, pulling you in the direction of BUNK NINETEEN. Since Mark had already started his journey into town and Director Irwin never left the movie room during his downtime, Eunseok didn’t feel the need to be sneaky while getting you into his cabin.

Sure, there were unspoken rules about how awkward it would be to have counselors wreaking sexual havoc for three months straight, but nothing in the handbook. The secrecy derived from how private both you and Eunseok were with your personal lives. It was nobody’s business who you were fucking, and if you two ever decided to stop, you didn’t want relative strangers feeling emboldened to ask questions. Plus, the sneaking around made everything that much hotter.

The cabins had been updated in recent years, and with that came much needed aesthetic and technological improvements. A few touches made the bunks a little less shabby chic and a bit more glamping. It was still ‘granola’, so to speak, but the doors locked automatically behind you. The interior was softer around the edges, no chances of splinters or wolf spiders keeping you up at night. Eunseok had made sure to make up his bed when he first unpacked an hour or so ago, knowing that he’d have company in the form of his summer lover.

“Cute sheets.” They were the same sheets he’d brought to camp for the last four years, with a flower you’d embroidered for each year you and Eunseok had done camp as counselors together. Three wacky looking blossoms in different colors with the years stitched beneath them, a little reminder of your place in his life. You couldn’t wait to add this year’s.

“Thanks, this girl I’m seeing really likes stabbing at it every year.”

He grabbed onto your arm as you shoved at his chest, pulling you into him. “Shut up, you like it.”

“Never said I didn’t like it.” His mouth was warm against yours, lips still wet from the kiss in the break room. Your nerve endings were on fire now that it was truly just the two of you, no chance of being interrupted. Swallowing the taste of your cherry cola lip gloss, a long lasting favorite that Eunseok mentioned liking the first time the two of you kissed back when you were mere campers. A clumsy, barely there kiss during a game of spin the bottle. ‘Wow, delicious’ he said offhandedly, making everyone giggle and making you quite popular with the guys that summer. Everyone wanted to get a taste of your fizzy lipsmackers. “Tastes so good.”

Your cheeks ached as you smiled involuntarily, his compliment flying straight to your ego. The idea that he craves you when you’re apart made you feel powerful beyond comprehension. “What, none of your little Stanford groupies wear lipsmackers?”

“What groupies?” His slightly calloused hands eased up your torso, fiddling with the fabric of your bralette to roll it up above your chest. Your breasts felt so heavy in his hands, full and swollen just waiting for him to play with. “No groupies. Just the memory of you and my right hand.”

He lifted your shirt clean off of your body, leaving your chest exposed to the balmy air of the cabin. “I always took you for a lefty.”

Another fit of laughter befell the two of you as he pinched your hip, kissing you with resumed passion. The way the sunlight hit you through the moss colored blinds made his heart skip a beat, the golden flecks in your skin glittering for him with radiance. “Take off your shorts for me. Slowly.”

A string of saliva fell onto your chin as you stepped away from him, eyes on his that were already watching you as your hands pushed down atop your cotton shorts. You were slow, following his instructions exactly and leaving your panties on underneath. The material hit the wooden floor with a dense thud, your gaze never leaving Eunseok. Your bralette rested awkwardly beneath your armpits for just a few more moments, Eunseok moving just enough to pull it off for you. And there you stood, almost completely naked in your Birkenstocks while he was fully dressed in his usual Camp Watauga garb. “You’re a siren sent for my demise.”

He was sincere, eyes glinting in their candor. “You’re spoiling me.”

“Because you deserve it.” Eunseok kicked his shoes off as he walked the two of you to the bed, his touch tender as your back hit the mattress, careful not to bump into you roughly. The wet patch of your underwear was blatantly obvious as he got a flash between your legs, and it turned him on even more to know you were just as worked up as he was. “What do you do when you think about me?”

You shuddered under the intensity of his leer. “W-what makes you so sure I think about you?”

Eunseok scoffs, lowering his hips to press them square against yours. “Please, I’ve heard the audio messages you send me at two in the morning. You’re so wet the microphone picks it up. I swear, the way you cry into your phone just thinking about what I’d do to you is louder than how you get when I’m actually with you.”

The feeling of his cock swelling against your thigh made you wrap your legs around his hips, locking him flush against you; nothing but thin panties and his basketball shorts keeping you from what you really came here for. “Mm, okay, so what. You win. I think about you. You get my fingers nice and sticky.”

“So show me… tell me what you think about.” He sat back to pull his shirt off, chest exposing a well hidden surprise.

Your fingers flitted across his nipples, both of them sporting little silver hoops pierced through them. “Woah, Seokie, I had no idea how hardcore you were.” In the roughly forty weeks that you were apart, he’d gotten drunk on a night out and got his nipples pierced.

“Make fun all you want, but I know you like ‘em.” Your tongue replaced your curious thumbs, swirling around the jewelry like you were trying to find the center of a tootsie pop. Eunseok’s hips undulated your drenched underwear while you got lost in sucking his pecs, giving each one equal attention until tugging at one with your teeth. He hissed, bucking against your pussy harshly at the sting. “Ah, fuck, ___. That hurt.”

Kiss swollen lips all moistened, you pulled away from Eunseok’s chest with a sardonic grin. “What, that doesn’t turn you on anymore?”

His hands shoot out to pin your thighs to the bed, leaving your cunt exposed for him to grind against in a choppy rhythm. “You’re feeling feisty today, aren’t you?”

“Just like messing with you, s’all.”

Eunseok wasn’t in any mood to punish you, using his fingers to feel the outline of your pussy lips through the flimsy cotton. “I’ll give you a pass. Reunion immunity, or whatever.”

“Thank you, daddy.”

He was instantly smug at the name rolling off your tongue, chest swelling with pride as you pawed at the waist of his basketball shorts. “Can only call me that if you’re gonna be good the whole time. Are you gonna be good?”

Eyes aglow with mischief, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, you nodded. It was hard to promise obedience when you were so used to being defiant with him, so used to being a brat because Eunseok always has so much fun taming you. But you’d try, if it was what he wanted from you.

“Wanna hear you say it for me, darling.”

His fingers were no longer idle by his side, instead cupping your mound as he waited for you to speak. “I’ll be good, daddy, I promise.” A sharp tug at your panties threatened to tear them but he stopped his movements just in time. Your wetness was the star of the show, glistening in the bright light of day for Eunseok to relish in. Basking in just how riled up you were, leaking with arousal without him really getting to touch you. He slid your panties down your legs, tossing them just over the edge of the mattress so you wouldn’t have to go searching for them later. “Wan’ you to finger me.”

“Thought I told you to play with yourself for me,” Another gush of wetness dribbled out of your core as he blew at it. “Though it doesn’t look like you really need it, you could take it all in one thrust.”

You pulled at the hem of his shorts so they’d hang lower on his hips, the base of his cock visible from the way they hit his thighs. “But, daddy, I want it.”

“You’re so full of it, ___, you said you’d be good for me,” Eunseok pushed away from you just long enough to pull his basketball shorts off. “You’re awfully greedy, like you haven’t been fucked properly in far too long.”

His cock bobbed as it was released, twitching at attention while you drooled at the sight of it. “It’s been so long, Seok.”

Eunseok decided in that moment to give you what you’d been begging for, slathering his cock in the wetness that was smeared across your pussy lips. He was completely soaked in you without even putting it in yet. “Think you can take it all, baby?”

He knew you could, you’d been taking his cock like a sleeve for the past four years. But watching your bottom lip quiver in anticipation, nails gripping into the mattress, arms propping yourself up so you could have an unobstructed view to him fucking you open; it made him want to perform for you, give you something mouthwatering to remember him by.

Your body welcomed him like it had a hundred times over. It felt like coming home, having him stuffed inside you again after dreaming about it for so long. Eunseok always fit so perfectly inside of you, like you were a match made in heaven blessed to find each other in this lifetime. Your mewls were a forgotten melody against his ears, his stomach turning at the sight of you underneath him again. “More.”

“Take what I’m giving you like a good slut and I’ll give you more.” Your nose was buried in his neck as his body caged you against the mattress— completely drenched in him as his skin fused to yours, the slight tackiness of sweat emboldening the waves of Eunseok enveloping your senses. That winsome and creamy essence would always remind you of his hips grinding against yours, deep and slow just to tease you. Just to make you gasp out beneath him and beg for more. And begging wouldn’t be a problem if he wasn’t so damn cocky.

Eunseok was so good at talking you through his strokes, the vibrations of his voice louder against your chest than he was in your ear. It was so easy for him to make your mind feel all fuzzy just by being around you, that sweet peach smell so specific to him. You liked being so inundated by him, liked feeling like you were drowning in a sea of nothing but him all the time. Loved not knowing where he ended and you began because he was just so all consuming. You loved being his. “You look so beautiful like this.” Your breath caught in your throat, fingernails digging into his bicep as his lips ghosted your cheek. You were convinced he’d never felt this good before. “So pretty.”

“Fuck me hard,” your voice was whiny and pathetic, just the way Eunseok liked it (even when you were defying him). “I’ll be prettier— I-I’ll be prettier if you fuck me harder.”

Something flashed across his face far too quickly for you to catch it, his eyes widening just for a moment as he faltered from the leisurely pace he’d set. Eunseok was trying his hardest to be a little gentler with you since so much of your sex life was rough and fast. He didn’t mind slowing things down and showering you with a bit more affection and flowery sweet nothings. But he was only so strong, couldn’t resist you pleading with him, voice so desperate. How could he possibly deny you when you asked him like that?

His hips snapped forward as your hands snaked down his back, mouth cracking open at the delicious change in rhythm. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you dizzy?”

A whimper escaped your throat as one of his thumbs flicked at your pert nipple, toying with it like he usually toyed with your clit. “Fuck me dizzy, daddy,” His jaw clenched as you spoke, your tongue licking at the shell of his ear like you had dozens of times before. “I'll be so good for you, please.”

The bed creaked obnoxiously as he forced your legs back as far as they could go, pinning them out of his way so there was nothing holding him back from absolutely battering your cunt. You were certain that the wet smacking sound of his hips meeting your soaked center could be heard from just outside the cabin. Your body was suddenly hotter, the air thick with humidity, sex and oh so sweet Eunseok. It was moments like these where you thought you’d do absolutely anything for him, no matter how dark, if it meant he’d drill into you like this whenever you wanted. You’d consider signing your life away to be his own personal cocksleeve.

“Gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t walk anymore. Show Mark that you’re taken.”

With the way he was fucking into you, that wasn’t too far off. He shifted his weight to his knees so he could wrap his hands around your hips, dragging your body down on his cock in time with his thrusts. Your stomach coiled with hot orgasmic bliss as he angled his hips to rub your clit with each thrust, the pressure taking over your entire body in the form of mind-numbing pleasure.

“Yes, yes, yes.” Your body twisted in on itself as he pinched your nipples, applying just enough force to throttle you over the edge. “Fuck!” His lips met yours in a heated kiss that you were too fucked out to reciprocate, just moans and whimpers tumbling out as he licked into your mouth.

You were barely restored from your orgasm before he was bucking into you again. “Tell me, ___, tell me about the guys you slept with while you were waiting for me.”

“E-Eunseok!” It wasn’t a secret that you weren’t committed to one another, but telling him the details was going too far. You certainly didn’t want to hear about all of the girls he was railing at Stanford. “Too embarrassing…”

He stilled your hips flush against his pelvis, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. “Tell me, or I’ll stop altogether.”

Catching your breath, gasping for air you didn’t even really know you were deprived of, you opened your eyes to face his demand, “It was only two, I swear.”

Eunseok grunted, resuming his thrusts with exaggerated force. “Were they keeping you satisfied?” Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, not wanting to think about the meaningless hookups that you only went through with because you were horny. “Or were they greedy? Huh? Were they taking care of my baby the way I do?”

“Mnh, no! The first guy was terrible, nothing compared to you.”

He slowed his thrusts, gripping onto your thighs a bit harder. “And the second guy?” You didn’t respond as quickly as you had the first time. In fact, you didn’t speak up at all. Eunseok was starting to think you didn’t hear him.

“Ma— The second guy was… he took care of me, daddy.”

Eunseok wasn’t expecting you to say that at all. He was expecting you to wax on about how nobody was better than him, but this threw a wrench in his plans. “Turn around, get on all fours.” His cock slipped out of you unceremoniously, his jaw clenching as you scrambled to turn over.

“I’m sorry, Seok, it didn’t mean anything.”

He folded you in on yourself, leaving your ass perched in the air for Eunseok to play with as he saw fit. His cock lodged back in your cunt in one motion, filling you to the brim like he’d never pulled out. Your cries were muffled by the pillow your face was pressed up against, arms limp above the mattress as Eunseok fucked you like a rag doll. All of your neurons were short circuiting at the same time, leaving you a braindead slut for your camp boyfriend’s fat cock. Drool soaked the pillowcase beneath you, and it only made Eunseok laugh at your tremors of pleasure.

“Remember what I taught you last summer?” His deft fingers fluttered just over your puckered hole, laughing as he watched you jerk at the featherlight touch. “Yeah?”

A rivulet of his saliva dripped onto your hole, his index finger stretching through the ring of muscle. The fit was tight and you arched your back at the intrusion, a shaky moan rolling off your tongue. “E-Eunseok…”

He was still thrusting into your cunt shallowly, rocking forward just enough to prolong the pleasure. “Don’t tell me,” His long fingers slapped your opening harshly, sending down another glob of spit. “Was all our training for nothing? Am I the only one who’s fucked you here?” One more dribble for your entrance before he added another finger, pressing them against your walls that were still wrapped around his cock. “Hm? Am I the one and only, baby?”

You whimpered at the memory, his fat cock splitting you open in a way you’d always swore you’d never do. But he was just so charming and intoxicating, his charisma your fatal weakness— you’d never dream of saying no to Song Eunseok.

“Y-yes. You’re the only one.”

He loved that answer. He wasn’t stupid, he knew you were fucking people the other three seasons out of the year. But there was a very large part of him that took pride in knowing there was something reserved just for the two of you, something no one else got to experience with you. It made him slip his cock even further inside of you, testing out a third finger as you bit into the pillow beneath you. “That’s what I like to hear, baby,” Gliding his cock out of your heat and tapping the tip against your hole, gaped open by his fingers that were still pressed inside. “You ready for me?”

You nodded slowly, nervous to take him after such a long time without it. “Slowly, Eunseok. I’m scared.”

Eunseok ducked his head so his lips were pressed right against your ear, “Baby, you know I’m always gentle with this one.” His free hand wrapped around your ponytail, pulling you towards him to arch your back at just the right angle. You barely registered the switch from his fingers to the head of his cock, his touch so delicate and the added gloss from your juices making it so seamless. “God, baby, you’re so hot.” His hand snaked around to your breasts to fondle them as a distraction to his length sliding deeper inside of you.

“Oh, fuck,” so that’s what you had been missing this past year, “oh, Seok, I’m so full.”

He’s never been shy around you, groaning out curses and moaning your name as he so pleases. His voice sends vibrations through your head, and all you can focus on is trying to breathe right. You were so overwhelmed with the feeling of Eunseok inside of you, you felt like you were pulsating. His hand in your hair tugged at you so you’d turn towards him, whining into your mouth before locking you in a sweet kiss that tastes like peach rings. “I’ve thought about this… everyday for the last nine months.”

That was true, or at least you wholeheartedly believed it. Very rarely, once every few months or so, Eunseok would text you into the wee hours of the morning, checking to see if you were awake. And every single time, you were. It was like you could sense that he was going to text you, your body wide awake until the very moment the text came through. It always ends with the two of you on the phone, talking each other through a filthy orgasm or two. You’d actually catch up once you finished, mesmerized by the facets of his life that you’d never seen before. And then you wouldn’t hear from him for another two or three months.

And when the wait was over, you were back in his arms, breathing in the sweat canvasing his body as he fucked you like his own personal toy. You were so pliable, so obedient, so in sync with his every desire; you were the high he chased September through May.

“Put your fingers in your pussy.” A quick slap to your ass before grabbing onto it, “you were dying for it earlier, go ‘head.”

You didn’t even have to move your fingers once they were inside of you, Eunseok’s thrusts providing enough friction to stimulate your g-spot. “Oh, fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum.”

Pumping two fingers inside of yourself, Eunseok added two of his own as he rubbed at your clit ruthlessly, thrusting into your ass still just as deep as before. The wave crept up on you in an unforgiving crescendo that raptured your soul from your body. Your body convulsed uncontrollably, hips thrashing against Eunseok as you squirted all over the sheets. The fingers crooked inside of you were a mess, covered in both your juices and cream from fucking yourself on them. You could just barely hear Eunseok hissing at how tightly your ass was squeezing him.

Eunseok was able to hold off on his own climax, thrusting shallowly into you until your tremors subside. “Felt good?” He took the risk of ruining his camp shirt by wiping his cock down with it, leaving your holes filthy and empty as he took an intermission for cleanup. “I thought about you every night at school, wishing my hand was you. Imagining pumping your sweet little pussy to the brim with my cum. Or painting your pretty face with it. Sometimes both,” His fingers curled inside of you and your eyes flittered shut. “Would think about you in my dreams, too, fuck. Had to jerk off before class because you’d get me so worked up.”

When Eunseok got like this— messy, generous, overruled by lust— there was no stopping him. You knew that you were effectively out of commission for the rest of the day.

The marathon fuck-fest went on for all three days you had before camp started, sneaking away to grab food at the very end of meal times, doing everything in your power to avoid everyone else. The days spoiled you, the reality of the situation escaping you until you were forcefully faced with it. The beginning of camp meant having no time designated for private moments tucked away with Eunseok. It was all about finding time throughout the day for stolen kisses, coordinating bathroom breaks so he could finger you hastily, slinking out on late night smoke sessions with Haechan and Minjeong to ride Eunseok until you passed out. The only guaranteed time you had with Eunseok was after campground curfew if you weren’t on cabin watch.

The nightly routine was the same— at eleven o’clock on the dot, you were knocking on his cabin door. The lights were already off but Eunseok would take the time to make sure every single light including the porch one was out. That’s when he’d open the door, just enough to peek out and ensure no one was watching before pulling you inside. It was the same for when you left, and all the hoops you had to jump through was just part of the fun. Having a three step plan before even being able to kiss him was worth it when he put his hands on your body, lips on your skin, knees knocking yours. He was yours only in private moments, but yours nonetheless.

Eunseok kissed you like you were the antidote to his incurable desire, and that wasn’t something you were willing to give up (even if you couldn’t tell anyone). But this summer was all about risks, evidently, as the two of you were quick to jump each other’s bones all across the campgrounds. Something about the looming threat of never being back at Watauga again made the two of you much more willing to test your luck.

THE BOATHOUSE

Your panties in your mouth was the only way you were able to muffle all the noises you were making, your ass sore from the way Eunseok was fucking into you. There wasn’t a sturdy enough surface for you to grab out for so you settled for pressing your hands against the wall, eyes trained on the rest of the counselors outside. The window was tinted, and small enough that they wouldn’t be able to see anything, but you couldn’t help but wonder; did they know? Know the reason you and Eunseok stepped away at the same time?

“Look at them. So clueless. Minjeong has no idea you’re getting your little pussy pounded right now.” His head rested in the crook of your neck, careful not to leave any hickies with his kisses.

“Oh, please, Seok, let me cum.”

The vibrations from his laughter permeated through your skin, “you wanna cum? Play with your clit for me. Rub it like I would.” Your eyes rolled back so far you were sure you’d go cross eyed, scorching hot bliss consuming your body as your orgasm swallowed you whole. The fear of being caught was the greatest aphrodisiac Eunseok had ever served you, the feeling reaching down to the tips of your toes as you curled them in rapture. “I know, baby, I know.” Quick fingers swirling around your clit as you spasmed on his cock, his own legs buckling in weakness. His arms wrapped around your torso, keeping you steady as cum spilled right into your cervix.

He pulled out before he went soft, cum hitting the floor with a quiet splat. You turned at the sound, mouth ajar as he looked back at you with eyes wide as saucers. “Eunseok!”

THE DINING HALL

It wasn’t on purpose, but you definitely didn’t stop him from peppering kisses along your neck and jaw as you filled the juice dispenser with ice. You wouldn’t bother getting fully undressed, lulling articles of clothing to the side amidst the grinding and heavy petting before he entered you smoothly. “So good for me, letting me fuck you out here.” His hands clasped atop yours as you gripped the dining hall counter, the prettiest gasp torn from your throat as he bottomed out.

Eunseok’s chin rested in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, warm breathing fanning the side of your face as your eyes screwed shut from the pleasure. His arms move to wrap around your neck as you let your head fall back onto the table, mewls slipping past your lips as he rammed against your g-stop. “Feels good baby? Want more?”

You frantically nod because you could never say no to more from him, back arching as his hands fondle every erogenous zone he could reach; nipples, chest, lower tummy, inner thighs. That paired with his deep thrusts sends you over the edge briskly, your cup of bug juice spilling over from the way you were thrashing in his hold. Your orgasm triggers his own, his teeth sinking into you as he fills you up to the brim.

THE TENNIS COURT

Twice a session, Camp Watauga organized Field Trip Day. No counselors ever want to go on the first trip, but you and Eunseok were smart— make the sacrifice for the first trip so that you both could hang back together when all the other counselors had to go on the second trip. It was the smartest thing you’d done in all your years at Watauga. The campgrounds were like a deserted island, just you, Eunseok, a few staffers, and a first year counselor whose name you kept forgetting.

“Would you let me fuck you with a racket?”

You didn’t need too much time to think about it. “Mm, a fresh one, yeah. If you really wanted to.”

Eunseok dug his hand through the duffel bag he brought out with him, “Like the brand new one I washed this morning just in case you said yes?” He wasn’t kidding. “I wrapped it in a clean towel to be extra safe.”

“Okay, I was under the impression the question was hypothetical.”

His head tilted to the side as he shrugged, a little embarrassed to be shot down so quickly. “It still can be. But I really want to.”

“How thick is that thing, anyway?”

A wicked smile spread across his lips— he knew he had you. “It’s thinner than my dick, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

And he was right, your skirt pulled up and your panties to the side testing your entrance with the edge of the racket. Your pussy opened up for him slowly, taking every centimeter of the racket that he sank into you as he tested the waters. Light, precise thrusts to get your body used to the feeling. “Feels…”

“Good? Do you want me to keep going, or do you wanna stop?” Eunseok halted his movements as he waited for you to respond, smiling like he’d won the lottery when you urged him to continue. “Be as loud as you want, baby, no one can hear us out here.”

Out on the tennis court, the very one you used to play on when you were a camper, you let your guard down. You leaned back into Eunseok’s chest, head resting on his shoulder as he worked you open with the racket. The ripples of pleasure already had you squirming in his hold, having to force yourself to calm down— he was just getting started. With Eunseok wrapped around you taking care of your sodden folds, you crept your hands beneath your shirt to fondle your breasts. The attention made your hips buck into the racket, a sharp cry soaring from your throat. “Fuck, the felt good. Aim it higher.” He did as he was told, in awe of your transformation from hesitant to in charge. The grooves on the handle added extra sensation, that soft spongy spot flourishing under all of the attention the racket was giving it. Your orgasm was rushing in on you hard and fast, and you couldn’t stop yourself from fucking the racket back. “Faster, fuck, right there! ‘M so close.”

Eunseok altered his position before granting you your demand, fisting the racket handle with one hand and caressing your clit with the other. You were unreservedly exposed to the woods before you, but the way you were spreading your legs suggested that you didn’t care. Another gush of wetness leaked out of you at the thought of a random hiker seeing you splayed open like this, drinking in your pussy like a pervert. You were gluttonous, your appetite for euphoria unappeasable; it was complete benediction that you’d found Eunseok to not fulfill your desires, but tempt you with entirely new ones.

“Give it to me, angel,” A string of spit dripped from his lips onto your cunt, “Wanna see you cum all over this racket like the hungry little slut you are.”

It was the kind of orgasm where you thought you might die, the ecstasy too much for your body to handle. Bathed in direct sunlight, heart racing like a marathoner, brain utterly devoid of any thoughts other than Eunseok, Eunseok, Eunseok!

The racket slipped out of you naturally as Eunseok loosened his grip and your seizing pussy pushed it out. Eunseok was hard as a rock as he watched you come to, your sweaty palms reaching out for him. “Just so you know,” your voice was hoarse from all the screaming, “I would’ve never let those other guys put a racket in me.”

THE JACUZZI

The perfect goodbye, in Eunseok’s words, was a tryst in the coveted counselor jacuzzi that required special permission from Director Irwin. “We won’t have to ask if we go while he’s asleep.” And just like everything he’d ever talked you into, you couldn’t say no to Song Eunseok.

Eunseok was already waiting for you at the jacuzzi when you arrived, arms spread out against the rim as the beginning flecks of sunrise teased the horizon.

It felt different than all the other times you guys had been together, except one— your first time with him. Neither of you were virgins when it happened, but he was so tender with his every touch. Gentle with the way he spoke to you, soft in the way he praised you. Sleeping together sprang from carnal desire, but his manifested delicately. All of those feelings came flooding back as he talked you through this time, lips sucking on your earlobe as you twirled your hips with his. Hands pressed to your back, tongue crying out about how beautiful you were. It gave you déjà vu.

And there, with your cheeks flushed and your hair pulled away from your face. With sweat dotting your hairline and your lips three shades darker. It had never been clearer to him. “I love you,” The sound of the jets in the water almost muffled him. “And I don’t want you to say anything just yet, alright? I really want you to think about it because I really think you might be the love of my life, and I don’t wanna rush through that. Just… think about it.”

Your head bobbed in understanding, not knowing how to just continue after a confession like that.

“Alright, let’s get out of here. Before someone catches us.”

It was the only time Eunseok had ever left you high and dry, and you were too frazzled to finish yourself off. You walked back to your cabin in a trance, combing over every moment you’d spent with him under a microscope. He loves you. Not just into you or in love with having sex with you. He loves you.

There wasn’t much for you to think about, but you’d already decided to humor him. You’d take the rest of the day leading up to the going away party to ‘ponder’.

The annual (unofficial) going away party for the counselors always took place in the woods, keeping the debauchery far away from the campers who liked to test their luck with curfew since it was the end of the summer. It was a childish celebration of all the time spent at Camp Watauga, but you wanted to entertain it, anyway. It was your last summer, after all.

Eunseok didn’t want to play Never Have I Ever, knowing that it was gonna leave him hungover the next morning since everyone liked to play dirty. He resigned to finishing his drink leaned up against a tree, soaking in the picture of all of you together for the last time. Sure, he was staying on the East Coast, but it wasn’t a guarantee that he’d be able to keep in touch with everyone. Although, the only person he really cared to stay in touch with was you.

“Okay, never have I ever hooked up with someone in the circle.” Giselle giggled at her own addition, knowing for a fact that several of her friends would have to drink. Minjeong and Jimin rolled their eyes as they took a sip, their relationship being a dead give away that they’d hooked up before. But Eunseok was far more concerned with the sip that you took than anyone else.

He wanted to say something, but he knew it would give him away immediately. So he was relieved when Jimin spoke up for him. “___! Someone in this circle?”

You cleared your throat, obviously avoiding Eunseok’s gaze as you tucked your hair behind your ear. “Um, yeah. Just a couple times, nothing crazy.”

“A couple times? Who?”

It was painful as you polished off the rest of your drink, fidgeting with the fibers of the rug you were sitting on. “Mark.”

Oh. Oh. The same Mark you’d told Eunseok you wanted nothing to do with, that Mark? Mark Lee who’d had a thing for you since you were a shy camper, nervous about spending the night away from your friends and family? Eunseok could kill him. “When was this? Was it right under our noses?”

“Eunseok—” You knew you shouldn’t have said anything, but lying would’ve been just as bad. Mark could’ve chimed in at any moment, and he wouldn’t have been exaggerating. Sure, the two of you knew it was just sex, but you never told him to keep it a secret. You weren’t ashamed of your sexual history with him, but you were afraid of how it would affect Eunseok.

“No, please, tell the class. I think we’re all just curious.”

You couldn��t feel the night breeze anymore, white hot humiliation burning you from the inside out. “It wasn’t a big deal. It was when Mark moved back to Connecticut for a few months for work. His apartment was like ten minutes from campus and he asked if I wanted to meet for a drink.”

“We never did get that drink, now that I think about it,” Mark chuckled to himself, locking eyes with Eunseok, “Never made it out of my apartment that night.”

The difference between humans and animals is quite simple; logical reasoning. Humans can think about certain things and are motivated by their instincts, intellect and logic. Animals are incapable of reasoning and are simply motivated by their instincts alone. Eunseok, by definition, was an animal. His fist cut through the air and into Mark’s jaw without a second thought.

You were almost certain you heard a crack upon impact, but Mark barely flinched. Like he was expecting it. He was ready to fight back with his hands curled into fists, fractured jaw bone an afterthought. Everyone else was shuffling to get away, screaming at the two of them to knock it off. The only person to jump in the middle was Haechan, arms flexing every muscle possible to keep Eunseok and Mark off of each other.

“Guys, stop! Why are you fighting?” Their fight was lost on everyone but you, the guilt you’d shoved down bubbling to the surface as you watched them claw at each other.

Haechan was able to get a handle on Mark, leaving Eunseok open for you to shake some sense into. He was so hurt as he finally looked at you, shoulders slumping as his chest heaved. “Eunseok, stop it, why are you getting so worked up about this?”

Mark was out for blood, cradling his jaw as he said what everyone was thinking. “Because everyone knows he wants you but he can’t admit it.”

“I have her! She is mine! I belong to her!” The hush that fell over the room was eerie, not a single peep out of anyone as you watched Eunseok with bated breath. “You guys might have fucked a few times, but she’s mine. Has been since year seven. Just because we set each other free from fall to spring doesn’t mean I’m not hers.”

So much for keeping it a secret. Everyone gawked at you, the shock of you and Eunseok actually being a thing greater than the shock of Eunseok punching the shit out of Mark. Like clockwork, everyone gathered their things and fled the area, whispering about how they’d never seen that side of Eunseok before.

You were still startled. “What was that?”

“Oh, don’t start. You’ve been nothing but distant this whole summer, you let me hang around Mark looking like an idiot, you made me feel fucking stupid!”

“Distant? Eunseok, we’ve spent everyday together. You’ve been my entire summer. And of course I didn’t tell you about Mark, there’s nothing to tell! We only hooked up like three times, and it was mainly because I was missing you,” He moved to interject but you cut him off with a wave of your hands, “Do you know how selfish it is for you to tell me you love me, tell me not to respond, and then accuse me of keeping you at arm's length all in one day? To paint me out to be this heartless tramp when I’ve only ever loved you?”

He kicked at the twigs by his feet, hair on the back of his neck standing up at those last two words. “You love me?”

“Does… does this really sound like the time for that? I’m in the middle of tell you that I’m pissed at you.”

That cocky smirk was back on his face, his front teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. “Yeah, but you love me.” He took his bruised hand to grab your chin, forcing your focus on him. “Say it.”

“Eunseok…” He hummed at the sound of his name in your mouth, angry demeanor nowhere to be found. “You big, dumb idiot, I love you.”

He kissed you like he was afraid he might hurt you, cradling your head delicately as you let yourself simmer in the feeling of love. The feeling of your fingers in his hair, his heart beating at the speed of light against your chest. It was a feeling you’d pushed down year after year, too afraid to confront the possibility of losing him. And now, wrapped in his arms post love confession, you weren't afraid of anything.

So, yeah. Maybe you felt a little corny walking into the dining hall the next morning with Eunseok’s arm thrown over your shoulder. But you’d do way cornier things for Song Eunseok.

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