#He never saw a ghost with such a consistency | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rollinouttahere-writes-misc · 2 months ago

Text

Delicious

Mr. Silvair x Reader

4.2k words

Summary: After finding yourself damned to being trapped in a terrifying ghost building, you do your best to adapt to it. The only thing you refuse to adapt to is the local cuisine, but how much longer can you truly avoid that? Reader is not the MC, and this does not take place during the time of the game.

Warnings: gore, violence, forced cannibalism, mind break/loss of self

The otherworld language is depicted bold and crossed out like this.

It’s good to be honest with yourself. There’s nothing to gain from deluding yourself into believing things that aren’t true, which is why you’re quick to admit that you are a coward. It saved you from plenty of situations and kept you from feeling the need to put on any sort of false bravado.

For the most part, this was a flaw that you had come to accept. It wasn’t until recently that you wished you were at least a bit more courageous. If you had only braved out the heavy rain and lightning and kept walking home, you never would have tried to take cover in what you had thought was the lobby of an apartment complex. If you were less of a scaredy cat, you wouldn’t have dashed deeper into the building all because you saw an ominous looking man with an umbrella standing at the end of the hallway you had just walked down.

But you did, and now you’re stuck suffering the consequences of that for the foreseeable future. Possibly for eternity. You were still unclear as to how the rules of this strange dimension worked. Honestly, you weren’t sure if there even were rules. Maybe this place was functioning off of wonderland-type logic where everything goes and nothing is consistent. You didn’t understand, but it would seem that you’re going to have plenty of time to at least try to.

Shortly after finding yourself lost here, you had made a terrifying discovery upon opening a door and finding a severed head dangling from a hook by its hair. You screamed out of shock, only to then scream louder when the head screamed back.

Fortunately for the head, rather than running, you completely froze up. That gave him the chance to start talking. While you couldn’t understand a single thing coming out of his mouth, there was something about the obvious distress on his face that made you feel a pang of sympathy for him despite your abject terror.

Sure, you couldn’t understand whatever strange language he was speaking, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he wanted help. There was a bit of hesitation on your part. Picking up a living severed head was far from appealing… but you couldn’t just leave him hanging there. If you were in a similar situation, you would want someone to help you. So, you unhooked his hair and held his head that was mercifully at least not leaking blood or other bodily fluids.

The period right after rescuing him was extremely confusing. He kept speaking to you like you could understand him, but it really wasn’t helpful. You had no idea what he was trying to convey and just started wandering aimlessly, figuring it was in everyone’s best interest to get away from the room you found the head in before whoever did that could come back.

Eventually, you were at least able to establish what “yes” and “no” sounded like. Trying to turn down some hallways or open certain doors would result in an outburst from the head, who you eventually started referring to as Mr. Chopped, while others elicited a much more positive and encouraging reaction. Where he was leading you was a mystery, but you felt safe in assuming that a defenseless head wouldn’t lead you into danger. If you get incapacitated or worse, he’s going to be completely on his own again.

His reaction when you came upon a staircase with an ominous door at the bottom was particularly enthusiastic. You could only assume that this place was his end goal, though you weren’t sure what would be waiting at the other side of the door. Would you find an empty room that he just so happened to like staying in? A headless body that he would expect you to reattach him to? A friend?

Was he leading you into a trap?

You didn’t know, but you chose to trust him as you slowly made your way down the stairs and towards the door with the creepy flickering light above it. After taking a steadying breath, you forced open the heavy door and stepped inside. Despite the eerie build up, you found the room to look shockingly normal. It was very bare bones, but seeing a relatively clean and furnished room was downright comforting after running around those barren, dilapidated halls for so long.

But then you heard footsteps and looked to the side only to find an absolutely massive man looming over you. Naturally, you screamed at the top of your lungs and tried to bolt back out the door, but he blocked it and grabbed your free arm to keep you in place. You thought for sure that you were about to die, but then Mr. Chopped started excitedly conversing with the man. Yet again, you were left completely in the dark about what was being said. All that you could do was stare at the tall man like a deer in headlights. You didn’t think it was possible for a person to be that tall, but then again, the head in your arms shouldn’t be alive either.

Once the silver haired man, who you dubbed Mr. Silvair, realized that you couldn’t understand their language, he guided you to sit down in what appeared to be a living room and started teaching you what various things were called. While you were absolutely still intimidated, it was hard to feel completely terrified of someone who was taking time out of his day to educate you. If he wanted to hurt you, he most certainly could have already. That, and what was the point of teaching you words if he was just going to kill you after?

While you still felt a little uneasy given the current situation, you felt like you were at least safe in this room and with these people.

… but then you went into his “research room”.

The horror you felt when you saw the contents of the room was indescribable. There was a blood stained operating table, a chair with restraints, a whole litany of tools that could rip you to shreds, and there were even hooks dangling from the ceiling. When the door behind you opened, you were rooted to your spot. That was it, you were sure of it. Mr. Silvair lulled you into a false sense of security just so he could lure you back here and do god know what to you.

Rather than forcing you into the chair like you had assumed, he simply entered the room and started tapping the things in there while slowly enunciating their names. Despite the absence of aggression, you couldn’t help but still be terrified. None of the words he was teaching you were being absorbed. All that your mind could focus on was trying to figure out how to escape with your life.

As soon as he finished telling you the names of the objects in the room, you bowed your head as a show of thanks- because you were NOT about to be rude to someone with a whole ass torture room at his disposal- and promptly excused yourself. You power walked out of the room and through the living area, not even sparing a second to look around for Mr. Chopped. He wanted to come here, so you figure that he’ll be fine. It’s not like he had much to him to torture anyway.

You were taking the steps two at a time when the main door opened behind you. Once again, your life flashed before your eyes and you were positive that this time he was actually going to kill you. You should have ran, but you froze just like you always do. All you could do was slowly look over your shoulder at Mr. Silvair’s figure. Much to your surprise, he was remaining by the door and was empty-handed. Rather than lunging at you, he simply waved and said a word that you guessed may have meant “goodbye”. You echoed the word back to him with a trembling voice, then promptly hurried up the stairs before he could change his mind and drag you back down.

However, your freedom from that room would be extremely short lived. Not even five minutes later, you found yourself walking down a dimly lit hall when you saw something at the end of it. You weren’t sure what you were looking at at first, thinking that maybe it was a pile of fabric or something. But then it moved. You froze again as the creature inched towards you until it was properly illuminated.

It was a man with long, dark hair that covered his face, and he was crawling at you on all fours. He raised his head slightly as if he had just noticed you, which made you flinch. Then a wide grin split across his face and he let out a high pitched giggle before crawling towards you faster.

Naturally, seeing an ominous looking man speed-crawling at you was absolutely terrifying, so you sprinted away from him screaming and crying and ran all the way back to where you had just come from. You didn’t exactly trust Mr. Silvair, but at least he didn’t crawl at you like some sort of sleep paralysis demon.

When you burst back into the room that you’re assuming to be his home, borderline hysteric, you weren’t sure what you were expecting to happen. He had every right to be annoyed by your presence and throw your sorry ass out, or worse. Much to your surprise, neither Mr. Silvair nor Mr. Chopped appeared to be upset by your intrusion. If the quiet chuckles coming from Silvair were anything to go off of, they were amused by your terror more than anything.

Most shocking of all, they let you stay. Even now, after all this time, you couldn’t believe they let you in so easily, but they did. Sure, there were some strings attached, but it felt more than worth it to have the protection and safety of having someone like Mr. Silvair around. You learned quickly that the other residents of this strange world did their best to not get on his bad side. Or intrigue him too much and end up in his research room. Ignoring the screams was difficult at times… but better them than you. All that he ever asked for from you were blood draws and periodic examinations, both things that you could live with providing.

The main way that you earned your keep around here was by helping Mr. Chopped. Mostly by taking him wherever he wanted to go; which became much easier thanks to Mr. Silvair teaching you the words for directions. It was scary at first, venturing out into the unknown with nothing but your own wit to protect you, but you forced yourself to power through it lest you risk being deemed no longer useful and thrown out on your own.

As nerve wracking as your excursions were, they weren’t all bad. As you slowly met more and more of the residents down here, you learned that not all of them were bad. The hairdresser was one of the people you saw the most often since Mr. Chopped was very particular about his hair. While you wouldn’t exactly consider her a friend, you weren’t scared of her either. Unlike most of the stylists you’ve met before this, she really wasn’t much for conversation, but at least she wasn’t hostile.

And then there was the extremely unlikely friend you made in the form of Mr. Crawling, the man that had sent you running the first time you saw him. In hindsight, your reaction to him felt ridiculous. While he was scary to look at, you came to realize that he was possibly the nicest person here. You didn’t always see him when you went out with Mr. Chopped, but when you did encounter him, he would take the time to accompany you two to wherever you were going and keep the less than friendly residents away from you. He was easily the person you were closest to next to the ones you lived with.

All of that brought you to where you are today. You don’t know how long you’ve been down here- the concept of time didn’t even seem to be a thing in this place- but if you had to make a guess, you would think it’s been around three months. A lot has happened in these “months”. You’ve learned quite a bit of the mercifully simplistic language, established positive relationships with some of the spirits here, and… you’ve changed. Physically.

When your skin tone became ashy, you thought it was an issue with the piss poor lighting in this damned building or the effects of a vitamin D deficiency. But even when there was genuinely decent light, your skin color was completely off to a very unnatural extent. Your hair went through a similar transformation. Like with your skin, you didn’t think much of it at first. Given the stress you’re under, it wasn’t weird that you were getting gray hairs. But it changed so quickly that you doubted it was just the stress getting to you.

Then you found that you could reach things that you previously couldn’t. When you mentioned this oddity to Mr. Silvair, he very nonchalantly confirmed that you had grown taller, saying it as if this was completely normal and like he was surprised that you hadn’t already noticed it. It was impossible to ignore by that point. Your body was changing. You were evolving into a new form, one similar to that of the other people here.

That, and you didn’t miss the fact that everyone here had stopped referring to you with the word human. Now they just call you you.

You weren’t happy with this development by any means. You didn’t want to be trapped here forever. You had been holding out hope from day one that you would stumble upon an exit while walking around with Mr. Chopped, but you never did. And now you don’t think you ever will. This was your existence now, and you were trying to force yourself to accept it. But there was one thing you refused to adapt to.

The food.

Much to your horror, the only thing the people here ate was flesh. Human flesh, ideally. Though you have also witnessed residents attacking and cannibalizing each other at times. There weren’t any grocery stores down here, and you haven’t really had any luck scavenging for normal food. The most that you’ve found up to this point has been the rare piece of hard candy, though they always tasted gross and stale.

Mr. Silvair has offered you flesh before. After he was done experimenting on his latest victim, he would carve up whatever was left of them and divy up the meat between himself and Mr. Chopped. He also tried to give some to you, but you’ve always refused his offers, though they were getting more and more insistent as time went on. You could tell that he was starting to get annoyed with your stubbornness, and you couldn’t blame him. You weren’t oblivious to the state you were in.

Yet another unclear aspect to this world- or more specifically, its residents- was how the need for sustenance worked. Even in the early days, you noticed how your body reacted to not getting food. Or, more accurately, the lack of a reaction. There was an underlying feeling of hunger there, but it felt much more muted than you know it should be. You should be starving. The gnawing hunger pains should be ripping you apart, but there was none of that. The most prominent symptom of your unintentional hunger strike was exhaustion. You were lethargic more than anything, and it was getting harder and harder to cope with it, but you refused to cave. This was a line that you weren’t willing to cross. This was your last remaining bastion of humanity, and you couldn’t live with losing it.

Just today, you had to go chasing after Mr. Chopped thanks to that damned kid running off with him again. You understood that they were a child and likely have suffered a lot just by being here, but in your current state, you genuinely couldn’t tolerate their bullshit anymore. You were in a perpetual state of being hangry, and you don’t think it’s going to be much longer before you snap and dropkick that little shit down a flight of stairs. But, lucky for them, they disappeared before you could make today the day.

By the time you trekked back home, you were dead on your feet. You all but collapsed onto the couch and curled up on it with Mr. Chopped nestled between you and the back of the couch in hopes that it would make it harder for that kid to run off with him again. Mr. Chopped asked repeatedly if you were okay, but you were too out of it to give him anything more than one word responses, and you fell asleep not long after laying down.

There was no way of knowing how long you were asleep for. When you awoke, it was to the sensation of something cold on your neck. You pry your eyes open blearily and look over your shoulder to see Mr. Silvair looming over you. Your eyes follow his arm and you realize that the coldness is coming from his fingers on your pulsepoint. You dropped your head back down and relaxed again. He was just doing his usual examination of you. The transformation you were going through seemed to greatly interest him, and he’d begun doing this more often as a result. You don’t mind. You’re just glad that he’s letting you stay on the couch rather than making you get up and go into his research room.

Just as you’re about to fall back to sleep, he speaks quietly, “you not healthy.”

Ah. This conversation again. You sigh softly and keep your eyes closed, “sorry.” The word is hushed and croaked out. Even the simple act of speaking felt like a herculean task.

Mr. Silvair sighs as well, then pulls his hand away and stands up, “rest.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. Within seconds, you had slipped back into a peaceful slumber. The next time that you woke, it was again from a feeling of discomfort. You were no longer on the soft, albeit lumpy, couch, and you could feel something cold on both your wrists. You groan quietly as you open your eyes and look down to assess what’s going on. It takes a few moments for your foggy mind to process what it’s looking at, but when it does…

What you see makes your blood run cold.

You’re shackled to a chair. Not just any chair. This is the one in the research room.

Adrenaline courses through your veins, making you more alert than you have been in a long time. Your head snaps up and you look around, confirming your worst fears. You’re in Mr. Silvair’s research room, and this time it definitely wasn’t for a simple exam. Tears sting at your eyes as the implications of your situation hit you all at once. It finally happened. He’s grown sick of you, and now he’s going to get out of you whatever is left that he wants. And then he’ll kill you.

The door opens, forcing you to whip your head around to see who came in. It was exactly who you thought it would be. Mr. Silvair enters, his head not even turning to face you. He stops in front of you and sets a bucket that you hadn’t even noticed he was carrying until now onto the table.

Panic fills your mind as you scramble to find the right words to convince him not to do this, “please research not me!”

Mr. Silvair regards you for a moment, then smiles at you. It brings you no comfort, of course, and you flinch when he reaches out and pats your head. He speaks in a calm voice, “not research. not now.”

You stare at him with wide eyes, waiting for him to elaborate. You didn’t understand what he was getting at. If he wasn’t going to experiment on you, then why were you restrained? You didn’t understand. You thought… You thought that everything was okay. That you were all friends. And now he’s turning on you like this out of nowhere?!

He firmly grabs your chin and forces you to look at him as he kneels down to be closer to eye level with you. He speaks slowly, seemingly wanting to make sure that you understand every word, “you not eat, you die.”

No… He wouldn’t…

“we not want you dead.” Mr. Silvair stands up and reaches into the bucket. “me take care you.” You can hear his hand close around something wet and malleable, then he pulls it out. A small portion of human flesh is in his hand. Organ meat from the looks of it.

All rationality leaves your mind in an instant. Your frantic mind can’t even begin to try and translate your thoughts into words that Silvair would understand. A flurry of words spews out, “Wait, wait, wait! You don’t have to do this! Please don’t do this! You can’t do this to me! I’m begging you!”

The words are unintelligible to him and obviously have no effect. Rather than engaging with you, he brings the “food” to your mouth. That shuts you up. You clamp your mouth shut, clenching your teeth and pressing your lips together as hard as you can. Wet, viscous flesh rubs against your lips as Silvair attempts to force you to consume it. You hold your breath in a desperate attempt to keep yourself from gagging, which you’re certain you will if you smell it.

After a few more seconds, Mr. Silvair pulls his hand away with a huff. The meat is tossed back into the bucket as he returns to his full height and goes over to his medicine cabinet. You couldn’t be bothered to pay much mind to what he was doing. Instead, you frantically wiped your mouth off on your shoulder, desperate to not let even a drop of blood find its way onto your tongue.

A sob rips out of your throat as the betrayal stabs you through the heart. You never thought that Mr. Silvair would try to force this on you. You thought that he respected you enough to not make you do something that you don’t want to do, but apparently you’re a poor judge of character on top of being a coward. You try in vain to pull your arms and legs free from their restraints, but they hold strong.

Mr. Silvair comes back to you, this time holding a syringe. His free hand grabs your face and presses it back against the chair, effectively holding you in place. You tried to squirm free, but he was far stronger than you. You can’t even plead with him to stop because his hand is over your mouth and muffling your words. One of your eyes can still see what’s going on through his fingers, but all you can do is watch helplessly as the needle is pressed into your neck and you’re injected with whatever was inside.

The drug is fast acting, and you find your muscles growing limp within seconds. Your mind remains sharp despite this, so you’re guessing that he injected you with some sort of muscle relaxer to keep you from fighting him. You try to force yourself to move, but your muscles aren’t responding the way you want them to. While you aren’t completely paralyzed, your limbs feel impossibly heavy. It takes everything you have just to curl your fingers.

A pathetic whimper leaves your throat as Mr. Silvair repositions his hand to be cradling your jaw. With a light squeeze, he forces your mouth open. All you can do is stare as he grabs the piece of previously refused meat again and brings it to your lips. You want to clamp your mouth shut. You want to stop this more than anything, but you can’t.

As the flesh passes the threshold of your mouth, the first thing that strikes you is how cold it is. You had assumed that it would be warm, but you suppose that any natural body heat it had once possessed had long since dissipated. Cooled, partially coagulated blood flows into your mouth, coating your tongue and running down your throat.

You should be retching and gagging. This should be the single most revolting experience of your life. But… But…

It tastes so good. It’s delectable. This raw, cold slab of organ meat tastes better than any fine dining dish or lovingly crafted home cooked meal could ever hope to. It’s so good. You want more. You need more.

more more more more mORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE-

Mr. Silvair begins to withdraw his hand as he sees you eagerly swallow the food, but the movement catches your attention. Before you can even think, you lunge forward, biting down onto his hand and easily severing multiple fingers.

delicious

#homicipher #homicipher x reader #mr silvair #mr. silvair #mr chopped #mr. chopped #mr crawling #mr. crawling #mr silvair x reader #mr chopped x reader #mr crawling x reader #reader insert #x reader

154 notes · View notes

cutehoons02 · 2 months ago

Text

I need a nerdy boy in my life

*pairing: Han hot nerdy boy x popolar girl obsessed with christmas

*tags: Han is obsessed with her, touching, shy boy with people but not with the protagonist, christmas trope, jealousy, kiss, smut, fluffy

*synopsis: Han always had a crush or maybe obsession with the campus influencer but it seemed that she did not see him or maybe it was just the other way around?

comments are appreciated

*word count: 4k (Tell me if you like this kind of stories:

—REBLOG if you enjoyed

The computer science department was with the economics and engineering department consisted of more men from all over the campus, guys who spent hours in front of a blue screen designing software, video games, and applications or trying to hack at illegal sites; the only course in that department with a fair percentage of girls was Communication and Social Media and Y/n was among the most popular and well-liked girls from the course, both because she had a fair number of followers in the various social platforms and tried to make friends with as many people as possible but also because she was excellent as a student.

She decided to graduate in Communication and Social Media because she loved the social and developing world that could be there. Still, she never expected her course to go from the economics department to the computer science department for her second year of university only because the president of the institute had the brilliant idea to let his nerd students know that in addition to developing video games or software, they had the opportunity to express their emotions with someone instead of being attached to the computer or saying it all the president knew that most students had "sexual repression".

The winter air mixed with that of the first days of December put me in a good mood Y/n, had a serious obsession with Christmas, in his room there were I don’t know how many candles to the various perfumes in limited edition for the holidays, Under the entrance of her room there was a small mistletoe (even if she did not go out with anyone seriously wanted to believe that sooner or later someone would kiss her under that famous stick), lights decorated the whole room and in his collection of accessories there was a section of bows to attach them to hair and he put one white with small glittering silver snowflakes.

She was simply a romantic and spent her nights watching Christmas movies with her best friend but she was extremely jealous because they didn’t seem to care about the love that you could feel during the holidays but they were only thinking of which other guy to take read especially if he was a computer science student, had received some flattery from some boys but none made her heart beat or come failles to stomach except one in particular Han Jisung, god hated him with all of herself had tried in every way to attract his attention with small gestures, let’s talk clearly he did not act like a pick me girl too because it was not in his character but sometimes he sat in front of or next to him in the library, Other times he saw him exhausted even after the library hours and brought him some limited edition coffee to drink in autumn or Christmas but always noticed that he drank a sip and then left it all in the glass, During the computer classes she had tried to make friends with everyone but he seemed not to care about her worse it appeared that she was like a ghost.

When he entered the classroom he saw with his surprise Han lift his eyes from his pc and when he saw her with a small mistletoe in hand he threw an ochiattaccia from the back of the classroom, was extremely irritable because they had spoken yes and no few times since the beginning semetre and it seemed that he hated her without having done them anything wrong, the computer class was one of the few classes where the teacher was a woman and Y/n had asked if he could cheer up and decorate the classroom a little with something Christmas and to his surprise the teacher had given him permission to put a mistletoe branch over the door so Without disturbing the very few people who had taken a chair and put it under the door and went to take the scoch and the razor wire to attach it to the branch, when she put her chair over the top she didn’t think it was so high so she tried to stand on her toes but felt the more stable chair below her and saw Han behind her holding his chair and trying in every way not to let those few male companions see their legs Discovered by the skirt slightly too short for his standards.

"Pixie next time before you try to hang something see if you can get there because in this way you’re showing off your half-naked legs under your skirt, let me attack that stupid mistletoe branch." you sundown to look at Han and have his classic nerd glasses, a black oversized sweatshirt, cargo and hair all ruffled, who knows what it would have been like to touch them and pull them slightly...

"Nerd nobody asked you for your help and don’t call me Pixie you’re not that much taller than me, if you can’t look at legs with socks it’s not my fault if you’re perverts." You felt the chair slightly flutter and Han had moved away that little not to hold the chair anymore

"Pixie seriously even if you stretch a little with the tips of your shoes you will not be able to stick it, let’s finish this show, and let me get on this chair, quiet is not among my hobbies to watching your legs half naked"

It was a serious lie every time you wore those fucking gowns like a good girl He would have wanted to put one of his big hands on your thighs and let everyone know that you were his property but he was too shy to do so

"I already told you not to call me Pixie i am Y/n and you know well what my name is, if you insist so try to put it otherwise i will call some other guy"

you went down from the small chair and Han put himself on the chair, ok he was slightly taller than you, and surely for him, it was a breeze to hang that stick, stretched slightly, and from the sweatshirt you saw come out a piece of leather you knew that Han had a passion for tattoos and had one on his chest but you didn’t think he had another, a slight hint of musk and poo invades you and you look carefully Han hangs the stick and swings it a little to see if he held the small knot that he had made, with a small jump Han got down and you found him a few centimeters from you and lowered slightly at your ear.

"Next time wear jeans, not skirts Y/n because you never know maybe I will start to look at your legs even if they are covered by socks like all the other perverted guys of this course!".

It was exactly a week since that episode in the classroom and most of the kids, when they walked into the classroom, smiled when they saw the little mistletoe over the door instead the only one who didn’t care at all was Han, you had arrived slightly earlier to the computer class and i put you between the last benches in the back of the room, you had to edit a vlog that you had made with your friends last weekend so you were focused on the computer without paying attention to what was happening around you until you saw next to you a computer of the latest generation and a case of glasses, you sunflower and next to it was Han who watched carefully how you were dressed and a slight grin formed when he saw that you wore jeans with small tears and a slightly over red Carharrt sweatshirt that matched perfectly your bow you wore to hold Tie your hair.

"I didn’t think i had so much effect on you pixie, it’s since i told you that i preferred to see you in jeans that i haven’t seen you with a skirt on campus" you raised your eyes and kept editing your video.

"You do not affect me Han, the temperatures have dropped and i prefer not to die of cold with skirts maybe it’s you who are obsessing about me if in all these months you rarely spoke to me and looked if now you notice every time how i’m dressed."

You felt the chair approaching you and leaned awkwardly to the table to be closer to your ear.

"Who said i didn’t look at you? Maybe you were too busy making friends with all these idiots that you never noticed the glances i threw at you"

"Stop teasing me Han, i see how i don’t like who knows how nice and the glances you throw at me when i make a presentation or when i’m in the company of others"

The professor came in and started to explain something about computer security but you already knew that so you kept editing the video until you felt slightly cold fingers coming into contact with your skin under the small tear you had in the jeans near your thigh, You watched Han’s slightly venous hand squeeze your thigh and then make some light circles going up as far as he could and then come back down and squeeze your thigh again. Fortunately, you were on the last bench so no one could see you but you felt the temperature of your cheeks rise more and more and you watched the profile of Han slightly relaxed while with the other hand he took notes, how he could be so casual if his hand was inside your legs and every time he tried to go higher he even left you little pinches with his long fingers.

Just a few minutes before the end of the lesson, the teacher said that you should go ahead with the person sitting next to you to study the chapter that she hadn’t finished explaining and write down what you thought was right to introduce on safety inherent technology artificial intelligence.

Han immediately took his hand from your thigh and approached as before with his body pressed close to yours "I never made fun of you Y/n, i always looked at you and maybe too much for my standards and maybe i have a serious effect on you if before every time i touched your thigh slightly you would decrease in the chair and blush. Luckily you had jeans because if you had the skirt of last week i would have touched you slightly higher and maybe I would have made you moan in front of the whole class" Have you watched Han take his stuff and get out of class, how much did you hate him as a nerd if he behaved that way to you? He had no shame if he thought to pottery you moan or even touch your pussy in class...

The city was full of Christmas stands along the main street to enter the university, you and your friends had arranged to go for a little ride and then go skating all together but someone else had other plans in servant for you and to your surprise, you found the group of friends of Han in front of the stand where they sold freshly fried melles over the cinnamon and an impromptu craving for food made you approach the stand and the group of 8 boys, You looked at him for a moment before you stood in line and saw a boy with blond hair smiling to you and I did the same, he was a nice guy but your eyes stopped on Han’s back for a few seconds and you were slightly happy that he didn’t see you, Two days before the next computer class and you had not yet taken up the courage to write him to find you studying. You acted as if you were the loser of the situation and not him, you had thought that you wrote instead you had not received any message but you always displayed the stories among the first people and even when you posted a photo were always among the first to like.

<<Isn’t that girl with the white bow and the mutton, Hannie that girl you’re obsessed with watching every story and vlog on YouTube?>> Han when he heard these words coming from Felix felt his cheeks turn slightly red and looked in your direction and saw you taking pictures definitely for your ig at the apple stand.

“Don’t tell me you brought us to this Christmas village just because you saw his ig stories on his profile," said Chan, laughing and pinching his cheeks slightly, Han gave a slight tap to the big hand Chan and began to approach you but saw that you were in the company of your friends and his shyness was imposed, god because I wasn’t extrovert like Felix or Chan?

Felix gave a slight push to Han and he found himself next to you and looked at the Australian boy.

“Pixie didn’t think I’d find you in the Christmas village don’t tell me that you’re following me and missing you already!"

You were in the head and next to you was Han, He wore a jacket of The North Face and cargo, It was strange not to see him with glasses but unfortunately he was even more beautiful gave him that area of the boy next door and no longer the nerd who spent hours on hours in front of the computer.

"Maybe you’re obsessed with me Han, I saw that you were among the first to view stories and fatalities find you in my place.”

"Why should I be obsessed with you Y/n? I have other things to think about and it was a fatality if I watched the story just put on ig"

You laughed and the line started to go ahead in front of you there was a nice guy and he immediately smiled and passed his hands through his hair while paying for the two fried apples, Before you left the stand you heard the cashier talk to you and give you a small sheet of paper but I did not now open it that with one hand Han took it and put it behind a pocket of jeans.

“Seriously Han what do you want from me? You tried to leave but a slight grip on Han’s hand made you stop and you looked at the nerd in front of you with an interrogative look.

"Would you like to go to my house and get on with the project? I know it’s Saturday afternoon but tomorrow I have to go to training and on Monday I have a class at 20”

"I don’t go to a stranger’s house even if you are in class with me and you are my age you could be a serial killer, let’s go to my house where i feel more comfortable than surely there is some roommate of mine"

"Yes, sure, I didn’t even think about it, sorry if I was too hasty to say immediately go to my house if you feel more comfortable we can also go to the library" Han was slightly eating the skin off a fingernail and at the same time he was also snapping his fingers for embarrassment or maybe anxiety? You took one of his hands and put it in your pocket with

"We can go to my house there is no problem, if you are okay and if you feel comfortable staying in a room full of Christmas stuff and basic girl fond of music, make-up, and shopping"

Han laughed lightly and looked until you arrived at your date and shared the hand braided to her inside the pocket of your mutton.

"Should I seriously be afraid of what I might find in your room or can I just sit still or some killer puppet could eat me alive if he sees a boy of the opposite sex in your room?"

"There’s no killer puppet in my room just a teddy bear that will be like a few years younger than the two of us" Han walked into your room and a little whistle came out of his lips, you had the view of the mountains of Seoul and the light sunset contrasted with the cream-colored walls of your room, there were a lot of albums of old and new artists and obviously above the door was a light mistletoe branch.

"Pixie i understand that you like Christmas so much but also in your room you have to find this branch of mistletoe. I read on the Internet that if you kiss someone under mistletoe love will last forever between the two lovers and it is a plant that brings luck and that drives away the difficulties and pressures between the couple"

"Who’s the obsessed Han? I sure don’t, if you research my favorite things!" You saw him blush slightly and sat in the big gamer/ youtuber chair that you had, instead, you sat in your comfortable bed and for almost two hours you studied with him, You weren’t surprised that while studying he was representing exactly the nerd you knew and that nothing was distracting him or maybe there was something or someone who could distract him and that was you.

You got up from your bed and you sat on the armrest of the comfortable chair next to him to make them understand that you were tired of studying but it seemed that he did not care what you were doing, then slowly sundown the series and you found him with a light smile and grin looking at you.

"Who is it now that needs the attention?" You were afraid to make a first move with Han also because you didn’t know him at all but he had put his long fingers for almost an hour and a half inside that little slit in your jeans and told you that if you had a skirt she would touch you so who cares if thought you needed him. Without taking your eyes from your face you sat between his muscular legs and felt his big hands between your hips "You want what treasure? Where is the popular girl who talks to everyone and wants to be at the center of attention all the time?" His words were provocative for the silent nerd who was in class, you spread your legs a little put over his length and tried to kiss him but he moved and a grumpy took possession of your lips

"Baby i need words who is now the shy couple?" a slight grin took possession of his lips and began to look at your lips as if it were a challenge only between your two worlds.

"I want to kiss you Han but don’t get too excited."

"Pixie fuck is since i saw you first come through that fucking classroom door i dreamed of hearing you say. But where is the romantic girl who wants to be kissed under the mistletoe by his beloved before Christmas?

"I think that before to make me kiss under the mistletoe i need to feel how it is to kiss you"

"You’re saying that you need to have a nerd in your life but you need to figure out if this nerd is the right one for you?"

You felt slightly more comfortable and you slammed your lips with hers and a slight taste of sugar invaded your tongue, He was fucking good at kissing and after a few seconds, you felt slightly biting your lower lip and a little moan came out of your lips and put his tongue into your mouth and at the same time began to gently touch your spine with his hand's cold ones that contrasted with your hot skin. Han had dreamed of this moment for months now and now that he held you close if he did not want to scare you, felt Han away from your lips to take a breath.

Han’s fleshy lips moved in your neck and began to give you a gentle kiss trail between the neck and collarbone.

"You’re perfect baby, your taste is driving me crazy. I always hated these sweet flavors that know from Christmas but i can make an exception for you" The feelings that you felt only with little kisses and lollipops were sending you off your head because this guy was called a nerd and what do you know about kissing?

You felt his cock swell more and more when you moved slightly above its length to feel the atrium between your jeans.

"I hate you because you have two Han personalities? How is it that in class you are perfect and then you are like this with the girls?" You felt the light laugh of Han in your neck and began to bite your neck until you felt his name come from your lips and at that moment he understood that you would be forever because no other name should and could come out of your lips if it was not his.

You pulled off his sweatshirt and a chest carved with around a small compass tattooed made you lick your lips so you returned the work he had done on your neck kissing her neck, her collarbones on display, Going down to his chest and with your hands caressed the ridges of his abs and you began to kiss his chest "Pixie moves into bed" You didn’t care about the uncomfortable position you had sitting between his legs while kissing and licking his abs.

"Pls Y/n" When you heard your name begging you got up from his legs and threw it into your comfortable bed and put yourself on him and watched him with his perfect tattoos and short of breath for the pleasure you were giving him, You wanted to let everyone know that the nerd not looked at by anyone had filled you with suckers and almost came in your pants without even touching you.

#han x reader #han jisung #han jisung x reader #han jisung x you #han jisung hard thoughts #han jisung smut #han jisung stray kids #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #bang chan hard hours #bang chan x reader #felix x reader

207 notes · View notes

hotmencoreplus · 1 year ago

Text

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 ‘𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭’ 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲’𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

Pairing: Simon Riley x sister!reader (she/her)

Summary: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, the infamous, relentless and fearless Task Force 141 soldier. And the particulars of him being the guardian of his baby sister.

Warnings: Talks of war and deployment, mentions of a traumatic childhood, language. Attempted to do it chronologically, but have added bits here and there

Word count: 3300+

A/N: Basing this off the theory that he is mid 30’s in mw2.

Likes and reblogs are much appreciated! Copying and reposts are not! My fics are only posted on tumblr, under this sideblog @hotmencoreplus for the account, @hotmencore

‣ Simon wasn’t at all prepared to be an older brother, but when he saw you, he knew it was his job to protect his little baby sister.

‣ You were the only one who was fortunate enough to not be killed by Washington, so when Simon was made aware of your survival, he took you in as his own.

‣ He doubted himself at first, fearing he would turn out like his dad, but also didn’t want to abandon you like he had been as a child.

‣ He wasn’t experienced in any way shape or form with taking care of a baby, so most of his days when not on deployment consisted of him watching youtube videos and going online to figure out how to do stuff and take care of you properly.

‣ When on deployment, he left you with a trusted neighbour who he had known for years before. (I feel like this would either be like a man who he would call his ‘best friend’ when home, or an old woman who has kids of her own, that use to babysit him)

‣ He would spoil you the best he could, and make you as happy as possible, not wanting you to have a childhood anything remotely like his.

‣ He definitely still gets help off of google for some things. He isn’t really too good with knowledge on ‘girly’ things.

‣ When home, you and him would always sit at the kitchen table of an evening, you playing with barbies whilst he sat across from you modding his rifle. As you got older, it would be the same just you with homework. You didn’t speak much when sat with each other, though it was always a comfortable silence for the both of you.

‣ Once when in primary school, you came home with a pout as you were jealous of your classmates pigtails and plaits, seeing that Simon only really knew how to brush your hair. So that night, he spent an hour watching videos over and over so that he could learn how to plait your hair.

‣ He felt stupid watching the videos, and frustrated that it took him so long to get the hang of it, but he knew it was all worth it when he saw the grin on your face the next morning as you looked at your hair in the mirror to see it all pretty and plaited.

‣ He also felt the same each birthday or christmas when you were little, worried that the little amount that he was able to get you wouldn’t be enough to make you happy. But 100% of the time, it was just him underestimating himself.

‣ When you were young, he never bothered to mention his own birthday. But one year when with your neighbour, you found out his birthday was a couple days after he came back from deployment. So you saved up money for the 2 weeks before he came back, and bought him a little teddy bear and a bar of chocolate. You also made him a little loom band bracelet, and haphazardly wrapped them up and hid them under your bed.

‣ When his birthday did arrive, you came downstairs to him in the living room, holding the parcel out in front of him. He lifted you up onto his lap, taking the parcel from you. “What’s this?” He asked, looking at it as he peeled his fingers from the cellotape of which you’d badly wrapped it with.

‣ “Happy birthday” you say softly with a smile, and that right there made Simon’s heart melt. He unwrapped the gift, and held the bear out in front of him. You looked at him eagerly, though his expression was confusing to you. “I hope you like it” you say with a slight hint of doubt. But Simon smiles at you, yes, smiles, and pulls you closer to him, placing a small kiss on your cheek, “I love it, thank you Y/N” he says, and the grin returns to your face.

‣ Simon had never felt more appreciated by anyone in his life.

‣ He let you off that one morning to share the chocolate with him, after eagerly placing the loom band on his large wrist, showing him that you now had matching ones.

‣ And he wears it everyday, even on deployment, under his uniform.

‣ And he still does to this day, years later.

‣ He also has a tattoo tucked away somewhere that he got for you, most likely your initials.

‣ When he first joined 141, Price was the only one who knew about you, and that Simon was the one who took care of you.

‣ He knew from Ghost’s files, as when he joined the task force, you were at the age where Simon wanted you written down as who was told when he died.

‣ You were at the age where it was harder to just pretend he never existed. Because when you were a baby, that was his plan. Before he joined it was your neighbour that was put down, just as a telling that you would need to be put in someone else's care.

‣ When Ghost requested the change to his file, he asked Price that someone could go over and tell you in person, rather than just a phone call, or his dog tags through the mail. Which caused for him to have to let Price know of your existence.

‣ He also asked for Price to tell Laswell, as he trusted her and wanted someone there for you who was in the UK more than he was, and in case both him and Price were on a mission/ far away.

‣ He also did it as he believed that you needed at least one female figure somewhat a part of your life, though you've only met her like once or twice.

‣ It takes a good amount of time and full trust in a person for Simon to be comfortable with them meeting you, or even just knowing of you. Which is why Johnny found out so randomly.

‣ You were late pre-teens when Simon was coming home from deployment, and got a call from his friend, apologising that he couldn’t pick him up from base. Johnny overheard the conversation and insisted that he dropped Simon off, though he was perfectly fine getting a taxi.

‣ Simon did message you to stay in the house, but you weren’t paying any mind to your phone, just looking out the window waiting for his arrival. Your own excitement blinded you to the fact it wasn’t the car of Simon’s friend dropping him off, so when you saw his skull mask through the car window, you jumped off the couch and ran out the door to him without a second thought. You didn’t hesitate in giving him a massive hug, which, though Johnny hadn’t pulled off yet, Simon reciprocated, as he knew there was no way of exactly hiding you now.

‣ It wasn’t at all that he didn’t trust Johnny enough, Simon just always felt awkward bringing it up and didn’t expect the circumstances of which he was in, so wasn’t prepared at all.

‣ Soap didn’t like to pry, but was curious and immensely shocked to see a young girl run out of his house and jump onto Simon’s huge frame. He knew it couldn’t have been his daughter as Simon would have simply been far too young for that to be true. So he made the conclusion of you being his sister, and tried to keep it to himself.

‣ Though on the next deployment, Johnny did ask about the young girl he saw, and with a grumble of a reply, he then understood that his guesses were correct. By then he trusted Gaz enough as well, so the whole of 141 eventually knew of Simon’s little sister.

‣ Simon keeps a little photograph of you in his uniform, in an inside breast pocket, above his heart. It’s a photo of you when you were little, the first year he put aside his fears, and took you trick-or-treating. You were dressed as a little fairy, grinning up at the camera, your face covering most of the shot as you leant forwards into the frame.

‣ You two don’t have any proper photos with each other, apart from one from when it was your birthday one year, and you told Simon that the only thing you wanted was a photo of the two of you together. So Simon begrudgingly granted your wish after a lot of convincing.

‣ In the photo, you are stood next to each other in the hallway of your home, you grinning with your short arms attempting to wrap around his large waist, and him stood looking emotionless with his simple skull mask on, his arm behind you resting on your back.

‣ It wouldn’t look sentimental at all to anyone else, but you treasured it. It stays on your bedside cabinet, with one of his old dog tags that he let you keep. You also have another old one of his attached to the zip of your school backpack.

‣ Simon never really decorated your room too much when you were younger, as he was new to the whole thing and decided that he would let you do it with him when you were older and found your own passions and interests. So first off for several years your room consisted of a small single bed, a wardrobe, and littles shelves for your toys, all of which he built with you sat on the floor of your room with him one day.

‣ But when you did find yourself and what you liked, you both spent a couple days decorating it. As it was just you and Simon in the house, you weren’t ever very ‘girly’ so the walls were painted a pale blue, and he bought you some new shelves and some fairy lights/ LED’s to hang up around your bed.

‣ When you use to get nightmares or just couldn’t fall asleep, you would sneak into Simon’s room, and wake him up so that you could stay with him. Although due to his own nightmares, was usually awake before you came in anyways. But there was something he secretly found so sweet about hearing your little feet try to quietly pad down the hallway to his room.

‣ He never minded, because he had nightmares all the time. Simon would never admit it, not even to his baby sister, but he enjoyed the nights where he would have her with him. Because in the long run it did actually help him fall asleep, knowing he wasn’t completely on his own.

‣ He had you.

‣ Due to him being away quite a lot, you have been aware of his job since you were little.

‣ Though when you got older, you wanted to know more about it. Simon didn’t really want to tell you much, as he didn't believe it was something he wanted his sister knowing about, but after so much pestering from you, he caved in. You learnt about his callsign, and how he always wore the skull mask.

‣ Once meeting Soap properly, he was the one to tell you about how infamous your brother really was on the field.

‣ You found it pretty cool that you were one of the only people in the entire world who new what the Simon Riley truly looked like, and secretly took pride in it.

‣ You have always known Simon with and without his mask, so it never feels weird. He rarely wore it when you were a toddler, though when you were first born he mostly kept it on, scared his scars were gonna frighten you.

‣ But the first time he took it off in front of you, you babbled and giggled, and reached out to his face. So from then on, he didn’t bother wearing it around you.

‣ There was one occasion when he came to pick you up from a neighbours after almost a year long deployment, and you were shy with him. It hurt Simon a bit, and made him feel guilty for not being there, and that you had grown so much in the time he was away. But the feeling soon melted away once your neighbour gave you a little push from behind their leg, you softening in Simon’s touch as he held you close in his arms.

‣ His teenage years were the most traumatic for him, so when you transitioned into yours, he became even more protective of you. You sometimes fought over this, and Simon felt bad, but you knew that he was doing it because he wanted nothing more than for you to be safe.

‣ When he bought you your first phone, he definitely made you have Life360 or something like it, so that he knows where you are just in case he needs it.

‣ He would never go crazy on where you were and who you were with. He trusted you. But when away, every night before he went to bed himself, or whenever it was late in the UK timezone, he would check that you were at home. It made him relax slightly about being away, knowing that you were safe.

‣ You were about 15 when you were properly introduced to the 141 team, as behind Soap’s teasing and pestering, Simon knew that you needed some other adult figures in your life. So, much to your own surprise, he messaged you asking if you wanted to come get him from base one time with his neighbour.

‣ You knew that Simon wasn’t really much of a physical affection type of guy, but you could never resist when he was coming back home after a deployment. And even less so now that you were able to come to base. But he also knew that much to his dislike for the public display of it, there was nothing he could do to stop you from doing so.

‣ And with that fact in mind, he knew he had to reciprocate the gesture, so when you did run up to him with your arms out, for a second he forgot about that fact the rest of the guys wouldn’t let cold old ‘Ghost’ hear the end of it, and wrapped one arm around you, lifting you up with ease, his bags clutched in his other hand. You practically squealed to him how much you’d missed him, as he mumbled back in your ear that he did you, too. Lucky for him the others didn't hear that.

‣ Once he had put you down, he very much awkwardly introduced you to the others in a grumbly tone.

‣ When you turned to them, the first thing that they all collectively noticed were your eyes.

‣ You had Simon’s eyes.

‣ Johnny’s hello was an enthusiastic “Good to finally meet you lass,” Simon glaring at Soap, aware of the amusement this brought him, knowing his lieutenant was annoyed as hell.

‣ Gaz nodded at you with a smile, and Price said hello in a deep but warm tone, looking on at you with an almost proud gaze.

‣ Price didn’t know what to expect when Soap loudly made everyone aware of Ghost’s new visitor at base pick up, as Johnny was the only one of them who had seen you before to recognise you as Ghost's sister, though they knew you existed (much to their inital surprise). But when you turned to the rest of the team without hesitance, Price instantly felt an even higher level of respect towards Simon as it was clear from your confident and polite hello that he had raised you well.

‣ Much to Simon’s own self doubt.

‣ One night when the 141 were all at a bar, Price quietly told Simon about how he had done well with you, knowing that he was definitely uncertain of his own worth in your life. But Simon heard the sincerity in his Captain’s voice, and with a quick look of appreciation towards John, he then didn’t doubt himself as much as he had before.

‣ Simon sometimes does mess up though with his language around you, only recently now that you have gotten older. But he isn’t too fussed, just as long as he doesn't hear you repeat any of it.

‣ Seeing that it is only you two in the house 24/7, you both surprisingly get on really well, and there have only been a rare few occasions when he has had to put his foot down.

‣ But these rare occasions would mainly consist of something silly to the point that he got sick of your nagging, like when you begged him to have ice cream for breakfast.

‣ “Please Simon, just this once-“

‣ “No, Y/N! You said that last time. Now drop it.”

‣ There have definitely been times where neither of you can sleep, and now that you're older, you both just sit with each other in comfortable silence. Occasionally just putting a random film on in the living room, but most of the time you would just be at the kitchen table, with a bowl of cereal at like 2am. That is until, and this is 98% of the time, you fall asleep with your head on the table and Simon has to carry you to your room.

‣ When you got to the age where Simon was comfortable with you in the house on your own, you once mentioned to him that the first day of him being away was always the hardest, and that it felt really weird in the house.

‣ You both knew he couldn’t do much about that, but he tried little things to make it somewhat bearable.

‣ For instance, he knows one of your favourite things is leftover takeaway from when you two have one, so the night before every deployment, he always orders takeaway for dinner so that there is always some in the fridge for you on the first day of him being gone.

‣ It’s the little things that Simon does for you despite his mostly cold heart that mean the most to you.

‣ On long deployments, you write Simon letters for him to read. You do message him too, but prefer writing them, as you know he will write back, which you feel is more sincere. His letters are never as long or heartfelt as yours, but you know your brother, and that he loves you dearly.

‣ His replies would often be a few sentences, praising you on anything that you would mention about school or just exciting stuff in general, signing off with ‘Simon’, and a barely noticeable ‘x’ next to it.

‣ You keep every single one of the letters he sends back, your favourites being the ones that he would occasionally send to you, first. And secretly Simon does the same, keeping your letters tucked away in his bag under his bed.

‣ He tells you unless its an emergency, that you should stick to letters or texts, so that he can still stay focused with his job and that if you do one day call him, he knows straight away that it’s an urgent matter.

‣ There was one time when you forgot about the emergency rule, and called him to tell him you passed a test you had been stressing about.

‣ He was about to shout down the line asking what was wrong and where you were until you beat him to it with a loud “I PASSED SIMON, I PASSED THE TEST!”

‣ “That’s amazing Y/N, but you just scared the fucking life out of me.”

‣ “Oh crap. I forgot, sorry. But I passed!!!”

‣ "Great love. I'm proud of you. But next time stick it in a letter, yeah?"

#call of duty #modern warfare 2 #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon riley x sister!reader #platonic #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 platonic #soap x reader #captain price x reader #gaz x reader #modern warfare x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

2K notes · View notes

cupidkenji · 10 months ago

Text

ghost in the machine

Pairing: Unsub!Spencer Reid x Agent!Fem!reader CW: Fluff, longing, mild angst, one paragraph with heavy implications of sex, cursing, mentions of reader being in a car accident, mentions of suicide and death, suggestive Ig? idk Spencer kind of taunts reader, if I miss anything please tell me! Summary: An unsub targeting local political powers starts calling you. With virtually no memories of your life before 15, you're tasked with finding out why his voice feels like home. Disclaimer: Reader is chubby. She's not physically described in this but reader is literally always a bigger person. Anyone can read but I wanna clarify <3 WC: 7.8k I lokey feel like I fumbled this one but this idea has been in my head since I saw a post about it like last month so i'm sorry in advance if it sucks 💀 I'm not saying looping ghost in the machine by SZA while reading this will elevate the experience but just know it's strongly advised and im even giving you a link to the song for easy access.

The fourth case this month. This was the fourth battered politician you’d forced into handcuffs while ducking away from the recoil of blood spewing from his mouth. The men you’d arrested had all protested strongly - and wetly - while being walked to the back of your cruiser, demanding to know why you were arresting them even though they were the victims. They were always the victims. They’d been burgled and beaten - yes- oftentimes you were restraining them while they sat in bathrobes or pajama pants, but this unsub always jumped the gun. Somehow they managed all this damage while simultaneously kicking the dirt that had been sedentary for years out from under the rug. The men would call the police themselves - I’ve been robbed, I’ve been beaten - always astounded when you’d taken their statement then turned them around and recited their Miranda rights. This unsub was meticulous, planned down to the second. Somehow, the media always broke the story hours after the arrest with full fledged details on the crime - ones the BAU didn’t even have yet.

The first time this happened, you’d questioned every media worker from Quantico to DC. His target zone never seemed to reach beyond that, giving you an offender right in your backyard. Those were always the hardest to stomach. Journalists, Newscasters, even cameramen had been turned inside out as the team scoured for any connection. He was just too good.

“How can it be just one man?” Derek spoke first, but that was the question all of you were about to ask.

“Wife and kids were outta town. It was a sleeping 50 year old man against the element of surprise.” Prentiss was right, it wasn’t a difficult job when viewed like that. “Description is consistent with all the victims. All black attire, mask over the face.” She flopped the folder down in front of her for emphasis.

“Either he has another guy or he’s incredibly tech savvy. Some of this information was encrypted, it would take weeks to compile all of this. If he’s hitting a new vic every week that’s not nearly enough planning time for something this orchestrated.” Hotch checked the time on his watch. “We’re not finding him tonight. The local PD are investigating. We don’t have clearance until tomorrow. Everybody go home and get some rest, we need to crack down on this.”

As much as you loved your job, the departure was a welcome relief. The day had drained you, you had to basically drag yourself back to the BAU for the regroup after the case. It was routine, and incredibly necessary as this unsub continued his streak, but your brain was mush, and you didn’t know if you were capable of any breakthroughs in your current state. You were grateful, currently, that at least you weren’t dealing with a serial killer. He had an agenda, that much was obvious, but chasing a serial killer for a month bred a different kind of stress than chasing an anarchist.

The AC blast that hit you upon entering your home seemed to steal the tension from your shoulders. It was summer, so on top of hunting an unsub who was essentially a ghost, you were also bearing through the violently humid nights. You locked the door, pulling up your sleeves as you walked deeper into your house. The lights were on, you never left them off for long, and your eyes locked on the pile of notes sitting on your counter. Three small papers, torn at every edge, were draped over each other. Evidence, you thought. You’d kept them for evidence. Once you told the team the unsub had been reaching out, you would show them the notes. It was that simple, you were planning to tell them. You didn’t know why the information hadn’t entered their radar yet. This unsub was clearly infatuated. You could be a valuable part of solving this case, the notes could be the reason you solved it at all. Those were words straight from the source, they would tell you more about the unsub than any crime scene analysis would. Something about them just stilled your tongue, though. You never particularly liked the feds, the cops, the higher ups. You became one of them begrudgingly, you’d been good at reading people your whole life. You wanted to solve things, see justice. It was never primarily about helping people for you, and you feared the reputational repercussions if your team members ever found out about that. You weren't ignorant, you had morals. You simply lacked the place of purity they came from, the virtue your team members carried was one you were void of. Half of the time you walked away from a case, you disagreed with the verdict, and you were ashamed.

You had only realized you zoned out when the phone rang, effectively breaking your gaze away from the notes and onto the ‘Unknown caller’ screen glaring at you from your cell. Morgan just got a new phone, you remembered. He’s probably checking in. You picked it up, stating just your last name in greeting as a reflex from almost exclusively talking to other agents.

It was quiet for a moment, reaching the period of time where your stomach knotted up and almost forced you off the phone. “Hey, Y/n.” The voice was a new one, it pulled at certain strings within you. You knew him, but you didn’t recognize him.

“Who’s this?” The spark of familiarity filled you with guilt. A car accident when you were 15 had stolen most of the memories from your childhood and left a bountiful amount of scars in their place. You barely remembered your own parents, if this man was an old relative, you definitely didn’t know who he was. As much as your family tried to be empathetic, you could tell it hurt them when you were none the wiser.

“God, it’s good to hear your voice.” The man was smiling as he spoke, you could hear it in his tone. “Your number was shockingly hard to find. Feds really don’t mess around, huh?” Your shoulders tensed, you looked around. Blinds were closed, your house was the same as when you left it. You're sure it wouldn’t be hard to find your address if he’d found your number. “I’ve been trying, believe me. I left those notes while I was looking, although it’s really not the same, is it? Phones are so revolutionary, I mean writing you a letter is one thing but it’s so underwhelming in comparison. A piece of paper doesn’t let me listen to you, doesn’t let me hear those little breaths you take when you get scared.” You didn’t even realize your breathing had changed until he called you out.

“Do I scare you?” He sounded so domestic, the contrast between the genuinity laced in his words and the actual words themselves just about knocked you over. “I hope I don’t. I’m not trying to.”

“What are you trying to do?” Your mouth felt sealed shut, just barely managing to grate out the words.

“If you’re asking about my agenda, I’m afraid that’s a private affair for now.” He was so casual about this, sarcastically sucking air in through his teeth like he was telling you he couldn’t meet for coffee next week.

“What do you need with me, then? You don’t want to share and you aren’t calling to gloat. What’s the point?”

You heard him click his tongue at the question. “Everything is so technical with you agents.” You could basically sense his lips quirk up, gaining some type of sick intuition for the man’s tendencies. “Maybe I just wanted a word with the pretty detective working my case.”

Your knees were trembling, your grip getting looser on the phone as you struggled to keep your hold through the tremors of your hands. You had to focus, you could take advantage of this. “Why politicians? What happened to you?”

“Personal grudge.”

“How do you get their data so fast?”

“I know a guy” He knew a guy?

“So you have a partner?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s no one of importance.” Sibling, maybe?

“It’s important to me.”

He chuckled at that. You needed to hang up.

“Y/n-” Could he sense your fucking muscles tensing? “Don’t tell your friends.” He could hear your heartbeat from where he was, you were sure of it.

“Why?” You were instantaneous, barely letting him finish before responding. “You gonna hurt me?”

“No.” He scoffed. “If you tell them, I’ll have to stop reaching out.” You swore you could feel the weight of his eyes on you. “Is that really something you want?” Cold sweat pierced through the skin on the back of your neck. You yanked the phone down from your ear and hung up.

No, it wasn’t.

–

You dreadfully greeted the sun as it peeked through the slits of your blinds. You’d slept maybe a half hour in total last night, sleeping in five minute increments while bearing through a paranoid haze only comparable to the first time you’d smoked weed. The world felt unreachable. You could see it like a screen but your true consciousness sat captive in his hands. He’d known you. That was the fact stuck in your throat, that’s why you couldn’t sleep. Does that mean you knew him?

“Jesus.” If you had to guess, the sight of your sunken eyes and hunched shoulders was the trigger for Morgan’s reaction to the sight of you. Walking into work wasn’t going to be fun, you knew that, but you hadn’t expected such an immediate acknowledgement. “Someone have a rough night?”

You wished you could banter with him. Morgan always made working here feel lighter, he was fun to be around, but you were guilty. If you were tired from a one-night, insomnia, even if you were drunk and puking your guts up all night, you would have joked back with him. Now, you had to force yourself to make eye contact. A childish part of your brain was scared he'd smell it on you. At this point, you were fraternizing with the enemy, and it’s repercussions were draped over you like a curtain. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Clearly.” He handed you a mug of coffee. “Is it the case? If it’s bugging you that much, one of us can stay with you for a couple nights. It’s no trouble.”

“No, Morgan, that’s not necessary.” He was so kind it was nearly suffocating. If someone stayed, he either wouldn’t call or you’d have to decline it. Both of those options making an uncomfortable amount of unease stir inside you. “I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine.”

“Just tell me if you need anything.” He nodded at you, you nodded back, then you both headed into the conference room.

“Any leads?” You walked to your seat as you asked, unsure what you were hoping to receive as an answer.

“None.” Everyone else was gathered around the table, Hotch scanning through the file as he replied to you.

“We’ve pretty much ruled out the media workers.” Prentiss spoke up. “This guy’s most likely an anarchist. His previous victims haven’t belonged to a consistent party so he’s not lashing out at the opposing side.” She thought for a moment. “What path leads somebody to anarchy?”

“Maybe he’s been kept out of office.” Morgan started speculating, just trying to sweep together something they could pin to him. “If he’s been running long enough, maybe he gets angry, changes course. He could be jealous of his targets.”

Your brain was half focused on the case, half focused on him. Two sides of you were fighting, one instilling a sort of protectiveness over him, one howling at you to do your fucking job.

“I don’t think he’s an anarchist.” You leaned forward in your chair, revving up to present your theory. “He’s been described in the same outfit for every victim. Long Sleeve, cargo pants, gloves and a ski mask - all black. That’s as minimal as it gets. Some pretty low income areas are well within his safe zone.” You paused, looking around to see if they were understanding what you were getting at.

“He’s poor.” Hotch had a glint in his eyes. Almost.

“So - what?” Morgan prompted. “He’s doing this for money? This is way too elaborate for somebody needing cash.” He shook his head as he spoke. “Hotch, there was evidence of Scopolamine injections. A man who either knows how to make the chemical or already has enough money to buy it wouldn’t be in a position that warrants this. Plus, the kind of tech it would take to get the information he steals? Way more than your typical Best Buy - this is Garcia level stuff. He injects them and probably forces them to help with the robbing, he beats them senseless - he’s getting some kind of kick out of this.”

“He’s not poor” You concluded. “But I’m pretty sure he used to be.” You sat up straighter to elaborate. “A lot of times, kids who grow up homeless or with no money feel wronged by politicians. Here they are going to school hungry while the mayor rolls in cash and lets them bear the consequences of a put-off promise to help the community.”

Prentiss sat back in her chair as she considered your words. “To build this type of anger, though? This is a vendetta.” She glanced down at the crime scene photos as a reminder.

“Exactly. Anger is expected in normal cases. Something extreme clearly had to happen to explain this type of outburst.” Personal grudge, you remembered him saying. You felt like you were airing out his secrets as you spoke. A weak sense of betrayal tugged at your guts. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot, going over what type of event could cause something like this and I think I have an idea.” You pulled out your phone while talking to call Garcia, the woman answering immediately.

“Garcia, can you look up children in the Quantico to DC area who died from complications with chronic illness? Probably late 90’s to early 2000’s, I don’t think our guy is old enough to have been running for office.”

“That’s gonna be a large list. Any more parameters you can give me?”

“Look for families making less than 20,000 a year.”

“Got it. There were three families making under 20,000 that reported losing a child of illness. One was of stage 4 cancer with no plausible recovery and the other two said they couldn’t afford the medication needed for treatment. I just sent them over.”

“You’re the best.”

“Don’t I know it.” You hung up the phone, pulling up the files she found.

“What exactly are we looking for here?” Morgan looked to you.

“We can rule out the first family. Dying of cancer wouldn’t create the effect needed for our unsub.” He looked like he was about to reiterate his question. “What we’re looking for is a sibling. If your family is struggling, you already have the seed of anger that this guy has. I think a family member dying from the lack of money might just give him the motive he needs.”

“That’s good thinking, he could be avenging someone.” Praise from Hotch always felt better than others. “The Bryson family was just the mother and the daughter who died. She worked in janitorial for the local middle school.”

“Doesn’t exactly fit the profile.” Morgan was right, all the testimonies had described a man. Plus the assumption of decent financial prosperity didn’t fit someone still working at a middle school.

“Who does that leave?” You were searching for the answer to your question, but Prentiss was quicker.

“Diana Reid and her two sons. Henry had type 1, seems like they could afford the insulin for a little while but something must have happened. He went into DKA and died a week later.”

Two sons. “What about his brother?”

“Uhhhh-” She scrolled down on her tablet. “That would be one Spencer Reid who…” She scrolled just a little bit further to find the whereabouts of the man, the hope in her eyes snuffing out with the information she read. “is dead. Says he committed suicide a couple years after his brother died.” The whole table deflated a bit as she said that.

“It was a good idea.” Hotch, despite being a monotone man, usually tried to keep things optimistic. “We’ll continue pursuing that angle. Morgan and Prentiss, I want you to go back to the first crime scene. I’ll call Dave and we’ll head to the latest.” The mentioned agents nodded their heads and started making their way out the door.

Your eyebrows furrowed at your lack of instruction. “And me, sir?”

“Go home.” He looked you over for a moment. “You look like hell.” Then he was gone, calling Rossi on his way out. How mortifying.

–

It had been three days since Hotch’s dismissal of you. You managed to get some sleep, convincing your co-workers of normalcy when you went back into the office the next day. In truth, you were anything but. You had been noticeably distracted but the others chose not to mention it until it hindered your performance, which it had yet to do. You were on a timer, counting down the seconds until your next call with him. You seemed to be endlessly tugged back and forth between excitement and pure dread. Everytime you got home, you took a moment to stare at your phone, almost like you could will him to call if you glared at it long enough. The day was just shy of a week since his last attack, and you were nervous as hell. Your phone buzzed once, then it buzzed again. He was calling.

“You’re early.” You didn’t find it fitting to greet him. You knew who it was, why be friendly? “Is there another one?”

“Relax, honey.” His voice lit a fire in you. Jesus. “I didn’t know I was only permitted one call a week.”

“What are you playing at?” You tried to sound sturdy, but your voice hit your ears with more desperation than you’d ever expressed.

“I could ask you the same.” You could hear the tilt in his words, he was so sure of what he was doing. “You didn’t tell them about us.”

“How would you know?”

“I’m not in cuffs, am I?”

“You think we’d catch you if I told them?” Was it your fault he was still free?

“No.”

“Maybe they’re listening.”

“Maybe.” He was so unbothered by the notion. You were never a good bluffer.

“It wouldn’t bother you?” You narrowed your eyes at nothing, staring at your wall as you tried to read him through the phone.

“You could bring in the whole nation, Y/n.” You listened more intently than you ever had. “It wouldn’t keep me from you.” You felt like you were choking on your own heart, feeling it beat at the confines of your throat. Jesus Christ.

“Do you know where I live?” Your lips were too weak to hold back the question. It’d been the only thing on your mind since the first note had been left on your car.

“Why?” His smile bled into his words. “Are you inviting me over?”

“Answer the question.”

“Why don’t you answer a question of mine?” He was so intentional, his MO proudly showing in the way he spoke to you. “Haywood or Clancy?”

“Are those your actual choices?” You tried to analyze him, justifying your actions with the ruse of investigation. He’d tell you more if he wasn’t monitored. “Or are you trying to throw me off your trail?” It was certainly plausible. Get you running after two men not of interest, leaving his real victim neglected by your team.

He laughed, breathy and soft. “I don’t know.” You could almost picture him tilting his head, faceless and so enticing in your imagination. “Pick one for me. Maybe I’ll do him next in your honor.”

“What do you know about honor?”

“Everything I do is about honor.” What did that mean?

“The only thing that would honor me is you turning yourself in.”

“What do you know about honor, agent?” His voice was taunting, you heard his body shift. “What do you think that team of yours would think about us, hm? Those are their words, not yours. You’re the one who’s waiting on calls from the enemy.” Shock paralyzed your tongue. You felt your head pulse with the blood rushing to your ears. “You don’t have to be guilty about wanting it, honey. You don’t fit with them.”

“As opposed to what? Fitting with you?”

He chuckled. “You’ve thought about it.”

“Nightmares, maybe.”

“That’s the angle you're going with?” He saw through you. “If you dreamt of me, I doubt they were nightmares.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t know where you are.” You didn’t feel relieved. “I have no interest in hurting or robbing you. Why would I want your address?.”

You slipped your hand under your shirt to trace the scar across your chest. Gift from the accident, now a nervous habit of yours. “What do you want?” God, you were a broken record.

“It doesn’t matter what I want, Y/n.” You could barely hear him over the thrum of blood in your veins. Your entire body felt tuned into his words. You’d never felt so far away while connected. “Only what I can do.”

“You take everything from them. More than just money. Clearly you lost something.” You were so sick of asking this question but you were getting farther from the answer with every conversation. “Why are you doing this?”

“They made the first move.” Jesus what did they do to this guy? “I’m not the bad guy, honey. I’m just defending my side.”

“This isn’t a game.”

“It might as well be.” He was quick with his responses. “It’s all the same to men like them.” You stayed quiet for a moment. How did you reply to something like that? “Get some sleep. It’s late.”

“Give me less crime scenes to look at and maybe I’ll sleep more.”

He smiled, you could hear it in his tone. “Every mean has an end, agent.” You held your breath, and as if gaining consciousness, you hung up the phone. You felt the brick of the encounter sit heavy in your stomach. He wasn’t lying. You were guilty, and you wanted it beyond belief.

–

You’d talked to him four more times over the past two weeks. There’d been two more victims corresponding with those calls, continuing his routine of a new one each week. Your understanding of your feelings had become less hazy as you talked to him more. Your guilt wasn’t from withholding information from your team, it was from the fact you wanted to. It stemmed from your instinctual desire to keep him to yourself. Let him exist differently in your home life than he did in your work life. It was difficult keeping something from profilers. It made you feel worse that they definitely knew something was up, but chose not to push it because they trusted you. Did this truly make you untrustworthy? You were only human.

You’d spent what was meant to be your day off at the BAU working. When there was a case like this, rest time seemed to take the backseat. You were drained, more emotionally than physically. You were lying to your friends, but truly, you didn’t know how deeply you considered them friends. They were good people, easy to like and easy to work with. You were starting to wonder if that's where it stopped, though. Everything about their company was easy, but it lacked gratification. His company was hard on you, but it was so rewarding, so filled with feeling that you started to wonder what your morals even were. You wouldn’t find them here, you thought. You certainly tried. You stared into the chipped white paint aging poorly on the brick wall of the bar as if the pigment of the words would organize your thoughts better than your malfunctioning mind could. The liquid in your glass was nearing it’s end. The drink had loosened your joints, loosened your mind. You hadn’t come here to get drunk, you were basically still sober, you just needed the warmth of a drink. There was a certain coldness within you, there had been since the accident. You accredit the feeling with driving away any potential love interests of yours. There was always a sense of being stuck, like you were interrupted in the middle of moving on, and never fully got to close the chapter. This wasn’t hard for others to sense. You were as emotionally nonreciprocal and unresponsive as a corpse.

“Mind if I join you?” A man who’d immediately caught your eye upon entrance gestured to the barstool next to you.

You motioned to it. “Please.” A casual invitation. You didn’t know how to talk to random men in bars. You took a good look at him, something subconscious stirring beneath your skin. The minimal buzz of the drink you had making you write it off, preferring the focus of his eyes on yours.

“What’s your name?” The smoothness of his voice could have rivaled the most expensive whiskey in that place.

You told him your name. He nodded, murmuring a “pretty” under his breath as he took a sip from his glass.

“I’m Matthew.”

“Pretty.” You reiterated, raising your eyebrows slightly as you joked. He chuckled, and you asked if he was new to the area.

“I’m a local, actually. I grew up here, surprisingly never been to this bar, though.”

“Really? I grew up around here too. This place is old as dust, been here forever.” You looked down, finishing the last of your drink.

“I know. I’ve wanted to come here for a while because it’s so old.” Something about him was so off putting but so irresistible. You’d never encountered such an uncomfortable concoction. It was intoxicating. “I lost the knack for drinking I had in my teen years. Back then my friends and me would just buy a 12 pack and get drunk in the field on Fromage.”

You lacked the memories to know if you related to the man, but you weren’t going to delve into why and kill the mood, so you lied. “That field used to scare the shit out of me. Everyone at my school said there were bodies out there.”

His eyes held a certain glint in them when he looked at you, his lips perked up at the edges slightly, if you hadn’t been a profiler you might have missed it. “Really?” Maybe you imagined it all, that or he caught on to you, the look leaving his eyes after lingering for a moment. The slight promise of something more sinister pulsed throughout them. The hairs on your arm were standing. “Mine said the same thing.” He smiled, looking away, shaking his head fondly as he remembered. “My school was full of dumbasses though so I never really took it seriously.” And you laughed.

You laughed a lot throughout the time you sat there with him. A few hours, you’d guess. He lowered your guard so easily, walking leisurely through the gates of you. You’d practically rolled out the red carpet for him. You wondered if he could see how easily he got in, how much you welcomed the feel of him in your veins. He didn’t seem to mind if he could. When he’d wanted to take you home, your lips parted, and you said you’d like that. You don’t really remember driving, knowing one of you did, both of you sober by the time you’d left. He’d been so gentle, so all-consuming. He’d run his thumbs along the scars he encountered, punctuating the sensation with his lips following close after. Mumbling praises against your skin and rhetorically asking “does that feel good, honey?” as your legs shook around him. He melted you down to pure liquid gold with just his touch, knowing exactly how to map you out. You’d felt him everywhere, his fingers burning their respective shadows on your skin, seeping slowly into your soul to leave marks there too. He’d felt so safe, the pure want joining the two of you together. A euphoric distraction from all the disaster you’d let befall you. He was gone before you woke up the next morning, but you saw him in your shadow, felt him in the soreness of your legs. He’d been a deviation, something put in your path to confuse you. What a brutal fucking night.

–

The same day, you’d gone to work, gone home, and then ended up back at the BAU an hour later. There had been another victim. Two days early. This was his eighth, and up until now he hadn’t strayed from his weekly pattern. This was a bad sign, if he was ramping up, who knows how many more he wanted to hit. The story had stayed the same, and that night you were arresting another board member, this time for solid ties to human trafficking. He really knew how to pick them. You’d give him that, at least.

The meeting post-arrest basically just shared what you were all thinking. He was ramping up, and you were getting no closer to catching him. Stating the obvious was doing nothing but wasting time. He was good. One of the best you’d ever seen. Nobody really knew what to do at this point. You watched their faces get more and more helpless and you felt bad. Nothing in your calls with the man would have helped you solve this case, you were almost positive. Any aspect that could have helped was one you explored.

Emily had said the name ‘Spencer Reid’ and the way your stomach lurched made you feel like you had to be onto something. You’d never had such an intense gut feeling about something only for it to be absolutely impossible. You hadn’t told them, but you looked more into him. His death was an easy one to fake. As much as you hated speculating on what could very well have been just a heartbroken boy, you couldn’t deny the theory you were building. His mother had found a suicide note, they hauled a body out of the river a month later and just assigned Spencer’s name to it, marking it down as conclusive. You weren’t convinced.

–

You got home within the hour, locking the door and pulling out your phone. You hadn’t called him before, but it was the same number every time, and you needed to talk. The phone rang so long you were almost sure he wouldn’t pick up. Almost.

“Y/n.” He greeted you. “This is new.”

“You broke your pattern.” You started with the topic at hand. “Why did you do that?”

You heard a chair squeak slightly as he leaned back. “What can I say? You being so interested gave me some extra motivation.”

“Interested?” What the fuck was he talking about? “This isn’t - I’m not fucking interested in anything. You’re a criminal.” You were slightly out of breath. When you lied to him, no matter how small the lie, air seemed to gain a disinterest in staying within your lungs.

“Mhm.” He was smug. That wasn’t a good sign. “I don’t believe that. You seemed pretty interested last night.”

He had pulled a lever, and your stomach dropped to your shoes. “That was you?” You sounded as defeated as you felt. Your eyes were watering from the pure shock, feeling the drop of the bomb shake you down to your core.

“You kept tracing that scar on your chest, you know that?” You hadn’t known that. “Almost like you could feel it.” Feel what? He didn’t elaborate. “You sounded so pretty when I touched it, when I kissed you. Been thinking about it all day.” He was breathy, sounding like he was trying to put himself back in it as he spoke.

You steadied yourself before you opened your mouth. “You lied to me.”

“I’ve never lied to you.” He sighed. “You lied to me, though.” You hadn’t imagined it. “That field used to scare you?” He laughed slightly. “You were the one who told me about it. Took me over there once to look at the moon in the back of your dad’s pickup.”

God, this was frustrating. “Who are you?” The tears were dancing the border of your eyes, begging to run down your cheeks. “I knew you?”

“You know me.” He was so sure of it. “I’m still in there. Everything is.”

You had to ask, at this point you were near certain of it. “Spencer?”

He sighed, relief intertwining with his words. “There she is.” It was such a soft delivery, the moment he took before replying had you wondering if you’d said anything at all.

What kind of situation even was this? “Is this about your brother?”

“You know, when we were younger, my mother knew the mayor. He used to babysit my brother and me when she worked nights.” His tone was humorous, bitter, like he couldn’t believe the stupidity of what he was explaining. “I listened to him promise us he would change the community when he got the time. Get us a house with more than one bedroom, get us into a school system deserving of us. He used to call me a genius.” He scoffed at the thought. “Then my mom couldn’t afford the insulin, and he let my brother die.”

You didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“The payments wouldn’t have even made a dent in his pockets.” You could visualize him, alone in a room somewhere, that familiar crease between his eyebrows as he talked. You were going to be sick, you thought. “One man for every year my brother got to live. Seems only fair.”

“Two more to go, then?” You couldn’t identify a single thought in your head. All of them speeding past you like bullets before you could latch onto one. “Is it helping?”

“Yeah.” He sniffled, quiet and subdued. “It is.”

“I - um” A tear finally fell, breaking the dam. You wiped it away quickly, two more taking it’s place almost immediately “I have to go.”

“Y/n-” but you were gone already. You put your hand over your mouth, laughing into it slightly at the absurdity of your situation and sobbing into a moment later as you took the cold plunge into reality. You texted your parents, knowing they were asleep, asking if you could swing by when they woke up. If anyone would know something, it was them, and you had every intention of shaking them down to find out exactly how you’d known the man. You had to know. You spent the night preparing the questions you’d ask and trying to fall asleep. You were almost paralyzed with the weight of him on you. There was no getting out of it now.

–

The outside of this house always felt alien. You knew you’d grown up here, but it lacked any sense of home. You wondered as you stood out front how much Spencer had to have meant to leave more of a mark than the place you spent your first 18 years in. The sun was nearing it’s peak in the sky, it was almost noon. Your parents had texted back at eight am, worried and eager to know what was wrong, eager to see you. You’d fallen asleep barely an hour before that, waking up at eleven and quickly getting ready after seeing the text. You were scared. These were practically strangers to you, and you were betting an ungodly amount on them. That’s not fair, you thought. But honestly, nothing was fair, and you calmed your guilt with promise of filling the void in your gut. You broke your staring contest with the front door and leaned forward to knock, the thing opening almost immediately.

“Hey.” You spoke before they did. You found that being the first to talk usually decreased the amount of warmth in their greetings. “It’s good to see you guys. Thank you for having me, I know my texts were sort of alarming. I just needed to talk about something.” You held eye contact to the best of your ability. They brought out a deep feeling of shame, knowing they didn’t blame you for the distance but still being responsible for it nonetheless.

“Of course.” Your mother talked while your father looked down. “It’s good to see you too. Come in, please.” Your father broke from her side to go sit down, while your mother opened the door to usher you in. You stepped forward, nodding at her in thanks as you passed her, joining your father where he sat.

“Um…” You faced both of them as your mom took the place by his side. How did you even start this? “Well, in a case I’ve been working on, somebody came up.” You couldn’t tell them he was alive. “And he just…seemed familiar, I guess. Did I know a boy named Spencer Reid growing up?” You watched the sparks of recognition ignite in their eyes as you said the name. Your mother’s grew teary, while your father’s seemed to harden.

“Knew him?” Your mother chuckled at the thought of it being so simple. “You two were more in love than your father and I.” She rolled her eyes as she held your father’s arm, the man laughing lightly at her words.

“He was the first friend you talked about. I remember picking you up from the first day of kindergarten and listening to you rave about the boy who was ‘smarter than the teacher’.” Her tone got lighter at the end, seemingly trying to imitate the excitement of your adolescent self. “You two were always close, you know?” She seemed to remember him fondly. “When you got older, you would get so defensive if I asked after him so eventually I stopped. But I knew. I knew you two would end up together from your first playdate.” She was on the verge of tears, giggling at her own words as the stories she told surrounded her, smiling at the past.

“His family really struggled. Such a sweet kid, him and his brother both. They were over here a lot.” Your father took the role of speaker as your mother’s emotions got the better of her. “We went back and forth for a while after the accident on whether to tell you or not. It just seemed cruel to. He died the night before you got hit, and you were such a wreck we just -” He struggled to find the words. “We considered it a blessing you didn’t remember him.” Your father’s guilt was apparent, twisting his features slowly as he explained their choices. “You were so in love, sweetheart. You didn’t know who he was when you woke up and we figured, you know, what’s the point? When the only thing that could come from it was pain, it just seemed futile.”

You don’t think you blinked the entire time they were talking to you. You only knew you were crying when your vision went blurry, completely neglecting the beading of tears down your cheeks. You remembered the day your mother was talking about, seeing the children you once were illustrate the world in front of you. You could almost see his face, how it would have looked when he died, how he used to look at you. Like he was staring at the universe’s secrets, easing his hands through the veil to touch them - to touch you. You remember the feeling he gave you, something warm and distinct, reserved for the two of you only. If you could have seen yourself in the moments you shared, you’re sure you would have worn the same look in your eyes.

You started speaking, but couldn’t manage much. “Yes, yeah, you’re right.” Reassurance usually worked well. “It was a…a good call.” You had trouble with your words, remembering the feelings of him but lacking the visuals. “Do you have any pictures?” Your mother nodded in response, detaching from your dad and going to retrieve something that held the memories you sought.

“I’m-” Your dad started. “We’re sorry.”

You shook your head. Your parents were the last people who owed an apology. “It’s ok, dad. I’m glad you did it.”

“I could never myself look back at these. Thinking about what happened to them I just…I can never look at them knowing they’re gone.” Your mother re-entered the room holding a camera, dark pink and cheap. “It was meant to document your childhood, but he was around so much, it’s basically just a compilation of you guys.”

You held the thing in your hands. It was everything you wanted to happen but you couldn’t force your fingers to move. Did you even want this? He was alive, sure, but you’re certain the boy next to you in these photos would never see the light of day again. All your birthdays for thirteen years, field trips, science fairs, even just the two of you sitting together reading. It was all here. All consumable. You felt the urge to boil them down and burn your skin with the residue. Anything to keep a semblance of this life with you. You had a right to them, they were yours. Your teeth clenched at the sting of the absence. He had been yours and you couldn’t even remember. “Can I keep this?”

“Of course.” You’re sure the thoughts in your head were obvious to them, spinning like a cyclone in your eyes zoning out on the camera. “I’ve thought about giving it to you for a while now anyway.”

–

They’d made you lunch, then dinner. They told you tales of your past and you let them glance into your present. It was dark by the time you left, setting the goal to talk with them more. You walked to your car, having parked down the street, and tried to shake yourself out of the trance that house put you in. You thought you were seeing things at first, squinting slightly to focus on the chunk of passenger door that was shrouded with out of place darkness. Someone was leaning against your car. You didn’t feel defensive.

“Spencer?”

“Hey.” He pushed off the door and walked closer to you, facing you on the sidewalk. You could see him now, lit up by a streetlight. He took you in, too. Glancing at your hand and grinning. “I remember that thing.” You had forgotten you were holding the camera until now.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I don’t know, honey.” He shrugged, matching your exhaustion at the situation. “I guess I wanted to see how much you remembered.” He looked at you, his eyes just as bright as they’d been a decade ago. “How much I could make you remember.”

You sighed. God, if only it worked that way. “Do you want to-” What the fuck were you thinking? “Do you want to come over?” You’d looked through every picture on that camera. You missed him. You missed him in your space, on your bed, waiting for you at the bus stop. That knot of feeling stuck only wanted to unravel if it were his hands tugging at it. “I can drive us.”

He raised his eyebrows, surprise blending seamlessly with the undiluted hope he carried as a kid. “Ok.” He smiled, just a tiny lift at the corners of his lips. The image of that smile resting on his teenage face struck you so violently you felt it in your bones. You looked at him, starstruck. His presence was a trance of it’s own.

“Ok.” You repeated him, trying to elongate the moment. You weren’t sure when you’d be ready to look away. He’d have to move first, and he knew it, so he walked to the passenger door. You blinked, grounding yourself, and unlocked the car.

You were preparing for an awkward car ride, but clearly your subconscious was more than familiar with him, being silent with him came as second nature to you. You took the long way back to your house, trying to enjoy the comfortability as long as you could. He added an elevation to your existence that you hadn’t been aware you were lacking. You pulled into your driveway ten minutes later, parking and turning off the car.

“Did you really not know where I lived?”

“No.” He was looking out your windshield, taking in the sight of where you felt safest. “I meant what I said. I never needed to.

You walked into the house first, hearing him shut the door softly behind him. You’d been listening to see how he’d close it, not sure what it would tell you, but deeming it important regardless. He’d been nothing but respectful of your space both times he’d been here. You sat down, nodding your head to the chair near you.

He let a moment pass, waiting to see if you had something to say. You had too much to say, too much to articulate. “I want you to leave with me.”

“Spencer-”

“Don’t.” His eyes were pleading, glistening with his unique mix of hunger and control. “Don’t write me off, Y/n. Nobody would know. They’re not gonna catch me. You can quit, and we can leave.” You looked away, down towards your hands. “Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it.” It was all you’d been thinking about. Usually in dreams - obviously your mind was more up to date than you were. You were going to do it, you thought. Of course you were. You looked at him and knew you’d go anywhere he asked you to. Still, though, you had a life. One you needed time to wrap up before you could leave it. You were a federal agent, if you went missing, they’d send the entire nation to step on your heels.

“Can I think about it?

He looked at you, suppressing a smile and tilting his head slightly. “Sure, honey.” He could read you so easily. He’d known he had you from the moment he asked. “I’ve still got two more.” The burning in your stomach wasn’t a resistance to the words. It was an admiration, a feeling you could wallow in. You weren’t an opposing force to him. Had you ever been? Truly?

“What happens if I don’t go?”

His eye contact had a way of transferring, enveloping any part of you it could reach. You were testing him. “Don’t force my hand, Y/n.”

You didn’t plan on finding out what that meant.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #x chubby reader #x fat reader #x plus size reader #spencer reid x chubby reader #spencer reid x plus size reader #spencer reid x fat reader #spencer reid fanfiction #suggestive #probably ass #im sorry for this #cupid:SR

350 notes · View notes

gremlingottoosilly · 10 months ago

Note

mafia!reader x mafia!konig where they’re from rival groups and heeeeyyy guys check it out who we have as a hostage!

(yes that hostage is ambiguous)

You can fool yourself enough that you're smart, that you're capable, that you won't ever get too cocky when your prey is right in front of you...but honestly, seeing Konig, leader of The Fucking KorTac, bound to the chair in a tort... interrogation room, is far too alluring. You never saw the guy before - always thinking he is like a ghost. Not the Ghost, that guy was pretty well known and seen by everyone, but a ghost. Apparition, urban legend, something straight up from those freaky German fairytales. The guy is big, wears a fucking bag over his head, and no one, who saw his face, ever lived to tell the tale.

No one before you, of course. Honestly, you don't have a reason to hate him. You're just a little cog in the big mafia machine, nowhere near enough the boss levels. You never as much as saw his top dogs in action, not even speaking of the man itself - but, he got sloppy. But, you got lucky. A group of unimportant thugs and "tax" collectors, you never thought you could catch the leader of an enemy group lacking. He was at the bar, chatting up with you - admittingly, you were too dumb to know who he was, at first, so you just did the usual. Chat up with an already drunk guy at the fancy bar, flash a little tiddy, make consistent eye contact, and caress his hand to distract him from all the shit you're pouring into his drink. The plan was to rob this guy blind, but then your colleagues came over and freaked out. You accidentally snatched up the leader of the most dangerous family in the city. Looking at him all bound in the small chair, it's almost obvious how much of a human he is. Not a myth, not a monster. A guy, a big guy, who smells of expensive cologne and sweat with a bit of blood. And he is waking up. The next thing you know is the ears-shattering crack of the chair as he lifts himself with ease. The second thing you know is the way his hands are going over your neck, squeezing just right to make you whimper. Then he suddenly stops, looking you in the eyes, your gang members too terrified of the guy who could effortlessly get out of the fucking handcuffs. He laughs. The monster of this city just told you that he is going to get what he is paying for all the way back into the bar. You think you hear your teammates screaming - but it all blurrs down with gunshots, yelps, and the pounding in your head as Konig pushes you against the wall. He picks you up later, a broken doll in dirty thief clothing. He says he would make you a proper lady. His lady. You almost wish you were smarter and killed him before taking his money in that fucking pub.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod #mafia!konig

334 notes · View notes

starry-bi-sky · 1 year ago

Text

Another small Clone^2 thought

Danny's hands are scarred.

Really, every part of him is. His arms, his legs, his torso. All of them littered in nicks and scratches and scabs that he's picked at over, and over, and over again. And then bigger ones, jagged scars from debris stabbing at him, and burns of ectoplasm blasts that melted through his regular clothes and hit his skin.

The one thing that never really got scarred were his hands. They were callused, of course, from all his climbing, and hitting, and hanging on for dear life to things. But never really scarred, not really. Maybe he just got lucky, maybe it was the fact that he wore gloves and they leather, and leather is harder to get through than cotton. Maybe both.

But, well, that's no longer case. But the scars on his hands take place on his palms. Two clean, thick lines going diagonally over his palms. Not from any enemy he's ever faced, but proof of his meeting with the little boy sitting between his knees, running his tiny fingers over those same scars.

Damian, his little brother. He scarred them, with that katana of his.

First when they first met, when Damian called him an imposter and proceeded to attack him. It was really only from Danny's exposure to the quick movements of ghosts that kept him from getting shish-kabob'd by Damian's sword.

And it was only because he was an idiot, and his brain was not faster than those reflexes that he kept grabbing the blade with his hands. That it kept cutting into that leather until it started cutting skin.

And then numerous times over on those rocky first months of Damian staying with him, when he didn't know any English, and Danny didn't know any Arabic. When Danny would piss him off or go looking for him when he ran off, he would have to grab his katana while Damian was swinging it at him.

His hands wouldn't heal for months because of it. The wounds kept being re-opened. Kept bleeding. Kept hurting. Until they slowly stopped hurting, and he knew that it wasn't a good thing.

Danny's parents were very upset when they saw his hands. It was hard to lie about where he got them - the lines are too clean, too consistent, to have been accidents. Danny didn't know how to lie and say it wasn't because of Damian. That it wasn't his katana that they knew nothing about that was stained with his blood.

He found a way to anyways, because he thought Damian was worth it at the time. He was a kid. He was scared. He was hurting other people and that's all he was ever taught to do.

So Danny thought a little pain was worth it.

(He still does.)

Oh, fun fact. There are three nerves in the human hand. the radial nerve, the median nerve, and the ulnar nerve. From what he could find on it, the ulnar nerve traveled up into the pinky and the ring finger, the median went through the middle of the palm and the ring, the middle, and the index, and the radial nerve went into the thumb and the index.

Fun fact, did you know consistent (or deep enough) lacerations to the palm could end up cutting a nerve? And that such lacerations can cause numbness, loss of feeling, and weakness in the hand, fingers, and thumb?

Here's a final fun fact: Danny had to go to physical therapy after his hands finally began to heal. Because Damian's katana had cut his radial nerve. There are seventeen thousands touch receptors in the hand, Danny's lost some of those.

His hands still hurt when he closes and opens them, the scarring pinches a little. He doesn't know why but his fingers hurt now when its too humid or too cold, or when its about to rain. It sucks. It's worth it.

He lied about before; here's the final fun fact:

There is a deeply, deeply, guilty look on Damian's face as he runs his little hands over Danny's scarred palms, carefully closing and opening his fingers in a slow rendition of his physical therapy workouts.

(Because even if it's ended, he still has to do them. Pain doesn't go away even if it's healed.)

"I'm sorry." Damian says in a meek, thick voice. He's said it before, when they've done this before at all hours of the day. Danny's wondering if Damian does it on purpose - hurt himself with this, that is. Not apologize. "I hurt you."

Danny sighs, deeply, and leans forward to press his face into his little brother's hair. "It's okay." He mutters, again. And he'll say it again, and again, and again, until Damian finally believes him. "I'm not mad."

"I am." Damian insists, his voice wobbles. "I hurt you, Danny."

"And I say it's okay that you did, Damian." Danny repeats, and wraps an arm around Damian's middle to sit him on his leg. Damian doesn't look at him, just curls his fingers around Danny's other hand and looks at the scar there. "Like I said, I'm not mad. I would do it again."

"Do not."

So, Danny's hands are scarred.

812 notes · View notes

nrdmssgs · 2 years ago

Text

Little things, they do (Alex, Soap, König) (headcannons)

Masterlist

Part 2 (Price, Ghost, Gaz) here

Ok, guys, first of all, thank you all for giving this little sketch THAT much love. Honestly, I'mm shocked. I'm blaming mister Riley here, but boy, thank you so-so-so much for 100 beautiful followers. I`ve actually had something for this milestone, but I was sure, it would be hit somewhere in the end of the summer. Hope, you like it!

Little things, they do, that get you every time. Silly, warm, heart-melting, wholesome things.

Alex Keller

Almost unconsciously lowers his head to stay on your eye-level whenever you two are sitting at a table and chatting.

If you are cooking and even insisting on doing it solo (maybe it's just your thing, maybe you like to have more room in the kitchen), he is never leaving you. He will just sit there and keep you company, or tell you some stories, or maybe find a youtube video for you both to listen to, while you're doing your magic.

Talking about your cooking, he never turns down anything, you've made. Never. “Alex, don't take that bun, I burnt it!” Eats it anyway, because it's your effort that counts and makes anything you cook so special to him.

If you are dating, and he needs to go early in the morning, he covers your eyes with the corner of his blanket (very carefully so as not to wake you up!). That way, he can turn on the light and collect his clothes without waking you up.

Def pulls you closer in his sleep. Buries his face in your hair, mumbles some sweet nonsense, places a soft kiss on the top of your head. (by gods I need more headcanons on this man sleeping)

Sometimes just stops whatever he is doing to say “I love you” and give you a kiss. The fridge is still open, his sweater is halfway off him, his hands still wet and water runs on uncleaned dishes? Doesn't matter, the kiss is what important to him.

Johnny Soap MacTavish

Once Price saw how you two interact and commented it like “Looks like our Tweedledum finally found his Tweedledee…” And while other pairs could get offended, you two weren't bothered at all (you're two chaotic crows, nothing can stop you!). In fact, from that moment anything he buys or makes for you, comes with a small handwritten note, saying, “to: my Dee. from: your Dum.”

Once he cooked an absolutely amazing pie. You were practicaly moaning, while savouring it and he just sat there all bright with pride. In a few years you saw the same kind of pie in a menu in the pub, where you were supposed to meet Johnny and others from the 141. Once you pointed it out to Johnny, others flinched and looked at each other. In response to your uncomprehending look, one of them admits that Soap was so worried that you would not like his cooking that he practiced at the base for several weeks. Because of it, their diet consisted only of Johnnys` pies for these weeks.

Has no concept of “too girly stuff”. Will gladly go shopping with you, paint your nails, help you dye your hair at home, if you feel like it. Will sneak your eye patches, because they smell so nice, and he feels so fresh after using them!

During his deployments, sends you tons of the most random photos just to calm you down and cheer you up (because every time you are too scared, this could be his last mission). “Ok, bonnie, this time I present you the collection of random rocks, I've met on work.” For the next week, you keep getting… exactly that. Photos of rocks with short comments like “Here's wee one.”

You don't know why the last photo he sent you that week was a photo of some guy in a creepy mask. You also don't have a single idea, why Johnny then goes radio silent for two days and why he has a brand-new phone, when he's back.

König

You have a stiff back? He will gladly take you by the hands and lift you up so that your spine is extended. "König! No, no, wait, don't, OH!... Oh… Sweet mother of jesus, I actually feel better..."

Even if you are just friends, and you are staying over at his place - he presents you with a shampoo, shower gel, conditioner and body lotion of EXACTLY the same brands as you're using at home. He just notes these small things and wants you to feel relaxed and taken care of when you're around him.

You can call him anytime on any occasion and if his phone is on, he will answer in SECONDS. You had a bad dream, and it's 4 am, and he lives on the other end of the town? In another town even? No problems, he answers almost immediately and comes to you as soon as he can. Even if It's just to hold you for 15-20 minutes, while you slowly drift to sleep, and then to drive back to his place for another good hour.

Thanks you for everything, and not only verbally! Writes small notes and leaves them on your bag or just straight gives them to you. He doesn't take anything for granted. Every your intention is a gift for him.

And that goes not only for the time, when you two have just met each other. You are his wife or husband since 10 years, you already have 2-3 beautiful kids? He still writes you notes, thanking you for the most incredible goodnight kiss, you gave him yesterday (every your goodnight kiss is the most incredible to him).

1K notes · View notes

hailthegodsong · 4 months ago

Text

LOVE IS OLD, LOVE IS NEW

Two-Shot Part 1 ~ Daniel Wagner / Female Reader 𓅪

Word Count: + 10.6k

AN: This is a comfort fic! Danny is not the cheater! This fic changed a lot from when I started writing it to when it ended, so I hope you enjoy wherever my mind went while I wrote this…

Content Warnings: Hurt/comfort heartbreak, crying, cheating, insecurity, nudity, deprecating thoughts, intense sadness, self-isolation, boner, mentions of sexual situations, lots of skin touching including breasts (but in a non-sexual way), love confessions, mentions of sex, considerate Danny.

𓅪

“You alright?” Danny asked, pausing the movement of his fingers and ripping his intense attention from the melodic chords he had been working on, letting his acoustic guitar falter in his hands.

You looked up from your phone, “What? Oh, yeah, fine.”

You weren’t really fine. It was your boyfriend, Otis’s birthday, and you hadn’t been able to get a hold of him all day. You swiped through your text chain, seeing that your message at 7am wishing him a happy birthday was followed by an embarrassing amount of messages almost once an hour asking what he was doing, how he was doing, and if he was okay.

You had grown unbelievably restless, your anxiety bordering between genuine concern for his well being, and fear that he was shutting you out for some reason.

Though, this wasn’t completely unusual for Otis. He had always been distant, emotionally elusive in a way that left you second guessing your every move. Sometimes, he would go an entire day without a word, shutting down for reasons you could never quite figure out. You attributed it to the way he must’ve been raised, but often, and without warning, he would go into a mood. You had tried to understand, tried to make excuses for it. Maybe he just needed space. Maybe you were overreacting.

It was terribly confusing, but you’d grown used to it, trying your hardest to take note of anything that may be a consistent trigger in his moods.

Danny, who was by far your closest friend, did not approve of his behaviour at all. In fact, he didn’t approve of Otis full stop. You had grown up together, graduated together, and were now splitting the rent of some small, shitty apartment in Nashville together, and it was hard for you to conceal the faults in your relationship when Danny seemed to always be there.

“You sure? You’ve been staring at that phone all afternoon,” he argued pointedly.

You huffed and ran a hand down the side of your face, “It’s just Otis…it’s his birthday but he hasn’t texted me back all day.” You paused, and Danny set his guitar down, its neck leaning against the arm of the couch you were both seated on. “I’m getting kinda worried,” you added.

Danny’s jaw tightened at the mention of Otis, a familiar tension brewing in his stance. You knew what he thought of your boyfriend, he had never been shy about it. As your best friend since childhood, Danny had always been protective of you, and he couldn’t stand how Otis treated you. To Danny, Otis was an undeserving ghost, always there, but never really present.

But it wasn’t as if Otis treated you poorly. No, you wouldn’t be dating him if he was. He just was a bit flaky sometimes- physically and emotionally.

Danny’s brows furrowed, “That is weird. Maybe he’s just busy with friends or something?” he suggested.

You shook your head, “No, he told me he was celebrating with them on the weekend. Told me he would see me today too,” you said anxiously, biting at the corners of your nails.

“Stop that,” Danny warned, pulling your hands away from your mouth.

It was a habit you seemed to have only picked up only recently, and Danny was always quick to stop it as soon as he saw you begin to nibble at the uneven edges of the nail.

“You’re right, ‘s a bit worrying. I would be pretty worried as well. Did he go out last night?” Danny asked.

“No.” You were beginning to feel more and more nervous, anxiety flooding through your body as you wondered what was going on.

You suddenly stood, “I think I’m gonna go over to his place. Maybe he’s just been sleeping all day.”

Danny glanced at his watch and grimaced when he saw that it was 5pm. He refrained from telling you he highly doubted it, not wanting to worry you any further.

“Shit,” you cursed as you looked out the window and saw that it was absolutely pouring with rain. You hurried to your bedroom to find a raincoat.

“Let me drive you,” Danny suggested, his voice now coming from his own room as he grabbed himself a sweater. You both emerged from your rooms and met in the hallway, and before you could protest he added, “Please. I don’t feel good knowing you’re driving in this weather.”

You scoffed, “Underestimating my driving skills, Wagner?” You carried the gifts you had bought Otis, including the bouquet of flowers into the living room with you and placed them on the table next to your handbag.

“Maybe,” Danny teased and you rolled your eyes at him playfully.

It took less than five minutes to gather your things. The bouquet of flowers, a few small wrapped gifts, and your handbag. Once you had hastily gotten your things in order, Danny grabbed his car keys off the table and opened the front door for you.

“Need me to hold anything?” he asked, watching in amusement as you fumbled with the flowers, presents, your bag and your phone.

You laughed, “Yes please.”

He took the flowers and a few gifts from your arms and you both descended the long, winding stairs wordlessly until you were in the shared car park.

“I’m sure it’s all fine,” Danny assured he held the door open for you to get into the car.

“Yeah me too. Just really wanna see him, you know?” You immediately regretted saying it once the words left your mouth.

You usually tried to keep the Otis conversation minimal with Danny, knowing that he didn’t really like him. Danny hummed anyway, despite his disagreement, and started the car before reversing out of the garage. He handed you your favourite Beatles CD for you to put into the stereo while he drove, and you felt overwhelmingly appreciative of his attentiveness.

You wanted to believe that nothing was wrong, and that Otis just hadn't had a chance to look at his phone yet. But with each mile closer to Otis’s apartment, the pit in your stomach grew heavier, and the knot in your chest tighter. Each time you checked your phone, there was no new message. No missed calls. Nothing.

Throughout the drive, it was clear to you that Danny was trying his hardest to keep you from overthinking. You felt like he didn’t stop talking for the majority of the ride, telling you about the latest disagreement between Josh and Jake and how he, like usual, had to save the day with his mediation skills. He managed to make you laugh too, always knowing just what you needed when you weren’t feeling your absolute best.

You had to direct Danny the way there, which was quite difficult thanks to the bucketing rain that restricted visibility of anything twenty metres in front of you.

Eventually you made it to his apartment, and Danny pulled over on the side of the road to drop you off, seeing as there was no carpark for him to stop in.

“Alright, be safe please. Text if you need anything,” Danny recited, the words he told you each time you parted. It had been that way since you could remember.

“I will! Thanks for the lift!”

Balancing your things in your arms, you quickly jumped out of the car to not hold up and more traffic.

Danny drove off when one of the impatient cars behind him gave him a beep for taking so long. You rushed up to Otis’s apartment building front door, bullets of rain almost soaking you completely as you covered the short distance.

Your shoes splashed heavily on the street which had become one big puddle. You sighed when you finally reached the building, protected from the rain by the large overhang that wrapped around the large building.

As you made your way into the apartment and climbed the levels to his, you glanced at your phone once more to check if he had messaged you, and frowned when there was nothing. A little puffed, you finally reached his unit. Before you knocked, you peeked a glance at the crack at the bottom of the door where a light was beaming through. So he was home.

You bit back a shiver as you raised your hand and pressed the doorbell. You always liked the tune Otis’s doorbell made. It was quite unconventional, not the normal tune they made and not a jarring ring either, but a nice melody all the same.

You hugged yourself tightly in the cold as you awaited a response, and when you didn’t get one, you rang the doorbell again. Finally, the front door swung open, and you were met with Otis, his slim figure on full display as only a pair of white and blue striped boxers hung low on his hips.

You smiled brightly, despite his state of undress and the fact that he had neglected speaking to you all day. “Happy birthday!” you exclaimed.

He shot you a quick, tight smile, before his face turned serious, eyes scanning the scene behind you. “Thank you Baby, but uh… what are you doing here?” he asked.

You faltered, “What do you mean?”

He looked at you as if you had done something ridiculous, “Well we didn’t plan anything. I hadn’t exactly said you could come over.”

You took a step back into the hallway, “Oh, I just thought that…”

You were mortified. But you were also incredibly upset. It was his birthday, but you had still felt some kind of obligation that he at least see you on the special day. He was your boyfriend after all.

“I got worried. You weren’t responding,” you explained, feeling a deep set frown fall to your face.

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, and you suddenly became very aware of his positioning. He was standing in the doorway, hands on either side of the frame and letting the door hang almost closed behind him while he stepped marginally closer in each moment and effectively backed you further away from the entrance.

“Yeah well, I just got caught up in something.”

Just as you were about to ask what, a slender hand, adorning deep red acrylic nails raked across his bare abdomen.

“Baby, what’s taking you so long?” a sultry voice asked, and you could see longer dark hair peeking behind his body.

Unable to believe your eyes, your mouth parted in silent shock, face dropping in realisation, and you peered over his shoulder to see the most beautiful woman you had ever seen, clad in only her underwear behind him.

Blinking, you watched as his face morphed into course red embarrassment, and his eyes widened in fear.

“Oh,” you stated.

“No Baby, it’s not what it-” he started, moving towards you to take your arm.

“Stop it. Don’t,” you shook his hands off you, “Don’t touch me.”

Tears instantly welled in your eyes and the lump in your throat felt like it was going to choke you.

“Wha- why?” you managed to choke out. He looked at you sympathetically, but before he could open his mouth, the woman behind him appeared at his side.

If you thought her face was gorgeous, her body was bound to make you pass out. Her breasts were full and round, and her slim, toned waist was a beautiful compliment. Her hips widened at just the right spot, and were void of dips or stretch marks, and it suddenly became glaringly obvious to you where everything had gone wrong.

She gave you a harsh look up and down, assessing your clothing and you could only assume your body. Your arms crossed over your front in insecurely, now regretting the old coat, faded jeans and casual shoes you had thrown on in your state of worry and anticipation.

You hiccuped a sob back when she placed a hand on his chest and leaned up to whisper something in his ear. Otis, to his credit, looked wildly uncomfortable by her actions and tried to shrug her off, looking at you pleadingly.

You couldn’t see any more. You couldn’t stand there for another second longer or you were going to explode.

You wished you were more angry. You should have been furious, yelling at him and ripping your keys out to key his car. But instead, you felt a deep pit of sadness in your belly. The type of pit that drags everything down with it. The type of pit that consumes all it can from its host just to continue its relentless torment.

You needed to get the fuck out of there.

Breathing turned shakey, you turned and walked so quickly down the hallway that you thought you were going to pull a hamstring.

Otis called your name from behind you, and you thanked the Gods that he was too naked to follow you. You descended the stairs in a daze, hot tears running down your cheeks, but you were too focused on getting out that you knew you needed to hold them back.

Once you made it to the building's exit, you realised that you were still cradling the birthday presents you had bought him. In an act of anger, you stormed out of the complex and threw them in a heap onto the grass beside the door, letting all the money you had wasted on him get destroyed under the unforgiving downpour of rain.

Then you realised you were also in the rain. And you were getting soaked. You quickly pulled your phone out and pulled up Danny’s contact to call him.

Restricted sobs began to shake your body, and you were having an incredibly hard time maintaining your composure, if you could even call it that anymore.

The phone only rang twice before Danny’s voice spoke through the speakers.

“Hey, what’s up,” he answered casually. You could hear his car keys hitting the little key bowl you had by the front door, indicating he had quite literally just gotten home, making you feel even worse about asking him to come and pick you up.

He called your name in question when you didn’t respond.

“Did you- did you just get home?” you asked, trying feebly to conceal the emotion in your voice, but the sobs and sharp inhales did close to nothing in helping.

“Fuck, are you okay? What’s happened? What’s wrong?” he asked frantically, and you could hear the keys jingle again, accompanied by the front door slamming shut.

“I’m,” you tried to say through broken sobs, “I’m okay. I just need- can you come and pick me up? Ple- please?”

“I’m already on my way.” True to his word, you could hear the engine vibrating in the background of the call. “Please tell me what happened. Are you safe?” he asked frantically.

You nodded, before realising that he couldn’t actually see you, “I’m- I’m okay. Just cold,” you began scanning the area, looking for a spot you could stand that was concealed from the rain.

There was no way you were going back inside the complex building, and you quickly realised that your best bet was a tree nearby. You hastily made your way over, sneakers getting ruined in the dirt, each step accompanied by a squelch. The rain wasn’t as relentless under the cover in the tree, but thick drops still fell and coated your skin, hair and clothes. You were shivering violently now, wondering why on earth you hadn’t brought an umbrella.

"Where are you?" Danny's voice was soft but laced with concern.

"Same place you dropped me off," you muttered, feeling the hot flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks. It wasn't hard to guess that Danny probably knew something had gone wrong with Otis. But you could bet he'd never imagine the full extent of it.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and you could sense Danny was biting his tongue, holding back from asking the questions swirling in his mind. He knew better than to press you when you were like this, though. Whatever had happened, it wasn't good. That much was obvious.

"Okay, honey, I’m nearly there. Can you try taking some deep breaths while you wait for me, please?" His voice was steady, trying to ground you through the phone. It was only then that you became aware of the sound of your own ragged, gasping sobs.

"Ye-yes... okay." You forced yourself to breathe deeply, letting the air fill your lungs, but each inhale felt heavy, the weight of your chest pressing down harder with every beat of your racing heart. You tried to follow Danny's request, but every time your pulse began to slow, your mind betrayed you. You couldn't stop the image from flashing in your head, those sharp red acrylic nails raking across his chest.

Your stomach churned, nausea rising as you cursed your vivid imagination. What would those hands look like wrapped around his neck, or worse, holding his hand? What would those nails look like tracing against his skin, trailing down his back in the heat of the moment as she whispered his name in his ear? The thought made your blood run cold, and tears welled up in your eyes once again.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the thoughts to vanish. But they clung to you, persistent and cruel, reminding you of everything you were afraid to face. It wasn’t just the physical imagery, either. It was the emotional betrayal of the way his eyes might soften when he looked at her, the way he might laugh at her jokes. She probably made him feel something you couldn’t. And he had probably been slipping away for quite some time.

A broken sob escaped your lips, and you clenched your fists at your sides, wishing you could stop thinking about it, wishing you could stop hurting. You knew Danny was close, but the minutes felt like hours. You hated how powerless you felt, sitting there, cold and waiting, suffocated by your own thoughts.

“It’s okay. Whatever it is it’s okay it’ll be okay. I’m nearly there, just hang on a little longer for me, okay?” Danny repeated, hearing your breathing pick up again.

You crouched on the dirt to hug some warmth into you, humming in response to his question. “Danny, can you- can you put the heat on in the car… please. I’m really cold,” you asked and you immediately heard him shuffle with the knobs on the dashboard.

“Are you- are you in the rain?” he asked with urgency.

“I was… I’m standing under a tree now.”

He sighed, “Okay I’m rounding the corner now, can you see me?” he asked and you looked up at the road. True to his word, you could see his black car nearing you as it sped down the road.

“Yes.” You got up and quickly walked to the edge of the street. The rain soaked you again, and you abandoned even attempting to cover your head from its assault.

He pulled up to you at record breaking speed, and breaked harshly beside you on the road. You swung the door open and practically fell into the passenger seat, being immediately engulfed by the warmth of the car.

You slammed the door shut, and muttered a small ‘sorry’ through your shudders as you did up your seat belt.

Being a busy street, Danny had to take off as soon as you were buckled up, and you looked down at the water dripping off your shoes into the car.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he commented, as you tried to take off your top jacket to avoid completely soaking his seats.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised, trying to keep your back from the seat to not soak the interior of his car. He had already given you a lift to and from Otis’s house, and the least you could do was not ruin his car in the process. You were trying your hardest to withhold the sobs, but hot tears mixed with the wetness of your face as the lump in your throat began to burn.

“Honey…” Danny comforted when he saw your emotional state. He found the closest quiet street and pulled over on the side of the road.

As soon as the handbrake was on and the car was in neutral, Danny turned to you, clipping off his seatbelt to reach you better. He reached to unclip your seatbelt too, and without hesitation, he pulled you into his arms.

Though it had been steadily trickling since you left Otis’s house, the dam completely broke when you felt the familiar and comforting embrace of Danny. He rubbed soothing strokes up and down your soaked back with a soft flat palm, his hand shuddering against each shaky breath you took.

“Are you hurt? I need to know you’re okay, physically,” he asked, still keeping you tight in his arms.

“I’m not hurt. I’m okay,” you sobbed, clutching at his shirt behind his back.

“Shhh,” he cooed as your sobs continued, “What’s going on? What happened?”

You pulled away from him, slipping back into your seat and wiping furiously at your red and wet eyes. “There was,” you shuddered, “There was a woman,” you explained, eyes now trained on the window wipers that feebly tried to push away the waves of water that fell from the sky, “They were both naked.”

“What?” The volume of his voice was jarring in the otherwise silence of the car. You dared not speak, feeling embarrassed and ashamed. Danny had warned you that Otis wasn’t a good person, but you had ignored him, and you were now putting the weighted burden of your mistake on his shoulders.

Danny ran a frustrated hand through his hair and you kept your eyes before you, silent tears now running down your cheeks.

“She’s really pretty,” you added, and Danny eyed you carefully. He stared at you for a long time, as if trying to see through your skin and into your brain to read every thought that was running through your mind. When he couldn't find anything other than self-loathing and depreciation, he ran a hand through his hair.

“I- fuck I don’t even know what to say. I’m so sorry.”

You shook in the cold as you stared out the window, unspeaking as silent tears rolled down your cheeks. When he realised you weren’t going to respond, he turned in his seat again and popped the car back into gear before he continued the drive home. He was watching your body shake violently from the cold and knew that as much as he wanted to hold you until you were better, you needed to get out of your wet clothes and into something warm and dry.

“Don't do that,” Danny said, pulling your thumb away from your mouth as you attacked the skin around it.

“‘M sorry,” you muttered with a sniffle, pulling your hands to your lap and fiddling with your fingers instead.

“Don’t need to apologise.”

You were quiet for the rest of the ride. You replayed the moment over and over in your mind, looking back on how he had blatantly told you that he didn't want you there, that you weren’t invited. All because there was another woman. Had she always been there? Was she just a one night stand or had he been cheating on you for longer?

Danny bit his cheek each time he heard you sniffle, every small sound cutting through him like a knife. He glanced over at you, watching as you hastily wiped your eyes, your fingers trembling with the effort of holding yourself together. The sight of you in pain made his chest ache, and every time your hand darted up to your face, he wished he could reach out, pull you close, and wipe your tears away for you. But he didn’t want to push, didn’t want to smother you when you were clearly teetering on the edge.

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel as he navigated the darkening streets, the quiet hum of the car engine doing nothing to soothe the thick tension in the air. You sat next to him, staring out the window, barely moving, but he could see the steady stream of tears that continued to roll down your cheeks. They glistened in the streetlights as you passed them, and he wanted to say something, anything, but he knew no words could fix what you were feeling.

The ride home felt agonisingly long, each second dragging on as Danny tried to focus on the road and not the heart-wrenching sight of you unravelling beside him. He kept biting his cheek, hard enough to taste blood now, but he couldn’t stop himself from glancing over at you every few seconds, praying you’d somehow find a little bit of peace before they made it home.

When Danny finally rolled into the parking spot, the familiarity of your apartment complex looming ahead caused the tears that had slowed for a brief moment on the drive started to pour again, the sight of home making everything worse. The thought of being so close to your bed, to the space where you could collapse and let yourself fully break was overwhelming.

Your breath hitched, and you hugged your arms around yourself, trying to stop the shivering that had taken over your body. The cold had seeped into your bones, making you shake uncontrollably, but you couldn’t tell if it was from the freezing rain that had soaked through your clothes or the sadness that seemed to settle deep in your chest.

Danny killed the engine and turned to you, eyes soft and full of worry. “Let’s get you inside, okay?” His voice was gentle, but the concern was clear. He didn’t wait for you to respond, opening his door quickly and jogging around to your side, pulling open the passenger door.

“Come on, I’ve got you,” he murmured, offering his hand to help you out of the car. You hesitated for just a second, but the exhaustion in your body won out, and you took his hand, letting him guide you. As you stepped out, your legs wobbled beneath you, and without a second thought, Danny wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his side.

You leaned against him, your sobs becoming louder now that you were out of the confined space of the car. His warmth was comforting, but it wasn’t enough to stop the tidal wave of emotion that had hit you. As he helped you up the steps to the apartment, you clung to his sweater, your cold fingers digging into the fabric as if you could hold onto him and stop yourself from spiralling.

Each step felt heavy, the weight of your sadness pressing down on you like a physical force, and you stumbled a little as you climbed. Danny tightened his grip on you, steadying you with every step, whispering quiet reassurances even though he wasn’t sure you could hear them over the sound of your own sobbing.

You weren’t crying for any reason now, yet it felt like your emotional capacity was a heavy ball that had been pushed off a hill. Once it started rolling, you couldn't stop.

Once inside, the warmth of the apartment hit you, but it did nothing to thaw the ice in your bones. You barely registered Danny closing the door behind you, his arm still around your shoulders as he led you deeper into your apartment. Despite his support, your mind had already begun its familiar descent into destructive thoughts. If Otis didn’t want you, then who would? The rejection felt like a punch to the gut, and the more you thought about it, the more it hurt.

Without a word, you pulled away from Danny, feeling the loss of his warmth immediately but ignoring it as you left him standing in the middle of the living room alone. You made a beeline for your bedroom, your body moving on autopilot. The door clicked shut behind you, and even though there wasn’t a lock, you knew Danny wouldn’t come in. He respected your space, your boundaries, but that knowledge only made the ache in your chest deepen. The loneliness pressed in harder, suffocating.

Inside the sanctuary of your room, you didn’t care that you were drenched to the bone, or that your clothes clinging to your body uncomfortably. The cold had long since numbed your skin, and now it was creeping into your muscles, making your limbs ache with a dull, persistent throb. You shivered violently, your teeth chattering so hard they ached, but it was a distant sensation compared to the emotional storm raging inside you.

You toed off your soaked shoes, not even bothering to untie them properly. Normally, the thought of tracking dirt or water onto your bed would have horrified you as your bed was your sacred space, always spotless, always prepared for sleep in clean pyjamas after a long shower. But tonight, none of that mattered. Your mind was too far gone, too consumed by the thoughts that swirled around relentlessly.

You crawled onto the bed without a second thought, the damp sheets immediately sticking to your wet clothes. The fabric clung to your skin, cold and uncomfortable, but it didn’t register. All you could think about was curling into the tightest ball possible, as if making yourself small enough would somehow make the pain disappear.

The sobs wracked your body violently, each one more painful than the last. You pressed your face into the pillow, muffling the sound, but it didn’t stop the flood of tears from soaking the fabric. Your whole body trembled, not just from the cold, but from the anguish that had taken over.

And still, despite the physical discomfort, despite the relentless sobbing, your mind couldn’t stop fixating on Otis. You kept replaying every word he’d said, every look, every action that made you feel like you weren’t enough. You kept thinking about how he didn’t want you, how he didn’t choose you. That gut wrenching feeling of rejection echoed through you like a broken record, and no matter how much you tried to push it away, it lingered.

But it wasn't the loss of Otis that hurt you so much as the feeling of being left behind for someone better. Your self esteem had plummeted, all feelings of security and trust torn apart with no remorse.

Minutes passed, maybe longer, until you were dimly aware of the soft knock on your door, Danny’s voice drifting through the wood gently.

"Hey… I'm just gonna leave some dry clothes outside your door, okay?" he said, his voice calm but clearly worried. You didn’t respond, too lost in the flood of emotions, but you heard him shuffle around outside before retreating.

A little while later, Danny returned, seeing the pile of clothes left outside untouched. He called your name gently with a brush of his knuckles against the wood, “Can I come in?” he asked cautiously.

“No,” you called out, muffled in the pillows your face was buried in.

He hesitated in the silence. “I don’t— I think you need to get out of your wet clothes,” he commented, voice still quiet behind the door. “You might get sick.”

“Don’t tell me what to do. I’m an adult, I’ll do what I want,” you snapped.

You had no idea where that outburst had come from. You immediately felt guilty as you imagined how Danny would have recoiled at your words and tone of voice. It was glaringly obvious to both you and Danny that you were only acting hostile as a way to protect yourself. Protect the fragile feeling of trust you had so carefully maintained throughout your life.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that… you can come in,” you said so quietly, that Danny may not have even heard you.

Though with heavy caution, Danny reached down to twist the handle. He knew you didn't mean what you were saying. You were hurt, and had been betrayed in arguably the worst way someone could be. He knew you just needed someone to be in your corner.

You didn't dare look behind you at Danny as he entered your room, and instead kept your head buried in your pillows.

“Hey,” he whispered, and you felt the edge of your bed dip as he sat down. He reached out hesitantly, and put his warm palm on your bare arm. He flinched the feeling of your skin, chilled from your still soaked clothes. “Shit, you’re freezing,” he commented.

With your back still turned, you stared blankly into the plush pillows in front of you, your eyes fixated on the growing wet stain spreading across the fabric. You couldn’t distinguish if it was from your soaked hair or the relentless flow of tears that you had cried. Your pillowcase, usually soft and comforting, now felt cold and uninviting, just another reminder of the misery that clung to you like the dampness in your clothes.

Your chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, each one laboured as you tried to suppress the sobs that threatened to rise again. The wet patch in front of you seemed to expand with every tear, but you couldn’t muster the energy to wipe your face or even shift positions.

Everything felt heavy. Your body, your heart, your thoughts. It was as though the weight of everything Otis had said, everything you felt, was sinking into that single spot on the pillow, and no matter how long you stared, it wouldn’t disappear.

“Hey,” he carefully pulled you away from your thoughts. Sniffling, you rolled over to face him, and his heart ached at the sight of you. Eyes and lips swollen, red and raw from your crying, and incessant rubbing.

“Will you please change into something warmer?” he asked, eyes soft and genuine as he stared at you, his thumb stroking against the cold skin of your arm, “I can help you if you need,” he added. You sighed, hard and long before pushing yourself up from your bed into a sitting position.

“Fuckkk,” you groaned, letting your head fall into your hands as you groaned, “This is such a mess.”

You looked back up again, assessing the damage you had done to your bed, which carried the consequences of you collapsing in it while still wet. Danny got up quickly, taking the clothes he had left for you outside of your bedroom door and bringing them to you at the bed.

“I think a warm shower would do you good,” he suggested, “It’ll help you warm up quicker.” The thought of the warm water pouring over your tired and cold muscles seemed like heaven, but now that he was here, you didn't want Danny to leave.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you agreed, moving to get up from your bed. Danny rushed out of your bedroom and searched through your shared hallway cupboard for the softest towel he could find.

He watched as you slowly emerged from your bedroom, posture slumped and insecure, arms wrapped securely around your body. Your jeans and top clung to your body tightly from the slick, and your hair left a wet residue on your neck.

“I can put the towel in the dryer for you while you shower. That way when you get out it’ll be nice and warm,” he suggested. His attention to detail made you smile.

Though his offer was kind, you knew what you wanted more than a warm towel. The thought that came into your mind was absurd, and could very possibly make Danny uncomfortable by crossing the boundaries of your friendship that you had both treaded in all those years. But you didn’t want— you couldn’t be left alone, or you feared you would curl up onto the cold tile floors and cry until you died.

“What's up?” he asked, hand raising to the side of your face to thumb away the remaining tears left on your cheeks. You glanced up at him shyly, trying to reign the confidence to ask him the question.

He frowned at the look of conflict on your face as you debated with yourself, “Hey. Whatever it is, you can tell me. You can tell me anything, you know that,” he offered with a kind smile. That same smile that had dried your tears too many times over the years, “‘S only me.”

You took a deep breath, “I just… I don’t know how to say this. I don’t want you to leave me alone. I want— I’m scared of being left alone again,” you admitted though still skirting around the truth of your sudden discomfort.

“I won't ever leave you alone, you know that. I’m always here for you,” he comforted, stroking your wet hair away from your face in a way that felt so intimate, so domestic, that you nearly began to cry again.

“That’s not… that’s not what I mean.” You took a deep, steadying breath, “Will— um, will you come with me?” you added in a mumble, cheeks heating at your question.

He cocked his head in confusion, “Come with you where?”

You swallowed thickly in embarrassment, physically unable to say the words. You were ready to dismiss it, and tell him it didn't matter when realisation struck his face.

“You mean… come with you to shower?” he asked quietly, surprise reigning his features at your admittance.

You were a fool. You had just ruined the relationship you had with your boyfriend, and you were already on track to do the same with your best friend.

“I— I’m so sorry. I don’t even know why I suggested that, seriously, just forget it, I—”

“No, no, stop. I… I’m happy to… if uh, if that’s what you need,” Danny answered, his heart thumping in his chest at your suggestion. This was a boundary that neither of you had ever crossed. Sure you had seen each other close to nakedness before, but only by pure accident or in the form of skimpy swimwear.

Both of you knew that doing this was different. Even suggesting it had changed something between the two of you, and it had brought to life the truth that you had both been hiding beneath platonic smiles for your whole lives.

You couldn't look at him, and instead looked at the towel he held tightly in his hands, “Are you sure?” you asked quietly.

Jaw tight and eyes cautious, he nodded silently. “You go and get started, and I’ll uh, join you in a minute, okay?” he suggested and you tucked a tuft of hair behind your ear.

“Okay,” you whispered. As you turned to walk away, nerves swelling in your stomach at your decision, Danny cleared his throat again.

"Are you... do you want me to keep my... um, boxers on?" Danny’s voice was as gentle as ever, like slow dripping honey that coated each word with the tenderness you had come to depend on. It was just Danny, always so considerate, always thinking of how to make you feel comfortable, especially in moments as vulnerable as this.

The question, though spoken with the utmost care, still startled you. Your heart skipped, and you felt a small flutter of uncertainty rise in your chest. You feared that whatever answer you gave might lead to discomfort, but there was a deep, aching need inside you to be close to him. Closer than you had ever been before. Something unspoken tugged at you, a silent yearning to connect with him in a way that transcended the physical.

"If you want. But I don't mind if you don't," you murmured, your voice softer than you intended, as if afraid the wrong words might break the fragile atmosphere.

Before he could respond, you turned and made your way down the hallway to the bathroom, the soft patter of your footsteps against the floor the only sound echoing in the quiet apartment. You gently swung the bathroom door shut, leaving it ajar just enough to let him know that he was welcome. You twisted the shower tap, letting the heavy stream of hot water fill the shower, the sound of it pounding against the tile, a soothing background hum that drowned out the noise in your mind.

Your clothes clung stubbornly to your body as you peeled them off, each article of fabric a reminder of the evening's cold and the emotions that had seeped into your bones. The chill in the air bit at your exposed skin, and a violent shiver wracked your body, leaving you trembling as you stood naked in the dim bathroom. You barely spared a glance in the mirror, catching only a fleeting, distorted reflection of yourself, a body that tonight, felt uglier than it ever had. The blotchy redness from your sobs clashed with the paleness of your cold skin, and you looked away quickly, unable to face the image.

Stepping into the shower, you sighed deeply as the hot water cascaded over your head, the sensation washing away the lingering chill. It was a simple pleasure, the heat sinking into your scalp, down your neck, and through your entire body. You tipped your head back, allowing the water to flow over your face, burning just enough to be distracting, before it slid down your shoulders and over the curve of your breasts. For a brief, blissful moment, you forgot about Otis, the heartbreak, the insecurity, everything.

Danny's soft footsteps padding into the bathroom snapped you back to reality, and your heart gave a nervous flutter as you saw his silhouette through the thin shower curtain. You turned your back to him, yet could still feel his presence as he shuffled with his things by the countertop, your senses heightened by the silence in the room. As he approached, the shower curtain shifted slightly, letting in a sliver of cool air that made you shiver again, but this time not entirely from the cold.

Wordlessly, you stepped forward, making room for him under the stream of water, and you heard his deep, contented exhale as the warmth enveloped him. You felt a shy smile tug at your lips, though you didn’t dare turn around. The thought of exposing yourself fully to him was daunting, even though you had never felt safer with anyone else.

Reaching up, you grabbed the bottle of vanilla shampoo, your fingers trembling slightly as you struggled to maintain your composure. But before you could open the bottle, you felt Danny’s warmth behind you, not close enough to touch, but enough for you to feel his steady, comforting force and hot, heavy breath by your ear. He reached over your shoulder, his hand brushing yours as he gently took the bottle from you. The touch was brief, but electric, sending a ripple of warmth through your chest.

"Let me," he offered, his breath tickling the skin beside your ear. The shampoo bottle clicked open, the scent of vanilla filling the air as Danny lathered up the shampoo by rubbing it between his large hands.

You stood still, your heart pounding in your chest as his hands moved to your head, slowly threading into your locks and pressing to your scalp. His fingers were strong but somehow gentle as ever, working the shampoo into your scalp in slow, deliberate motions, in a way that made your knees weak. You let out a whispered groan, the sound escaping before you could stop it as your body relaxed under his touch.

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch as he continued to wash your hair. His fingers traced soothing patterns against your scalp, moving with such care that you felt your chest ache with emotion. This wasn’t just an act of kindness. It was love. Pure, unspoken, and unconditional.

This was no longer just about getting clean either, you realised; this was something else entirely. The both of you, stood there, completely exposed, completely vulnerable, and yet there was no awkwardness and no sense of pressure or expectation. It wasn’t sexual, but it wasn’t entirely platonic either. It was something deeper, something built on years of quiet affection, of love that had been waiting patiently for the right moment to reveal itself.

He soon rinsed his hands under the water, and touched your shoulder gently as he pulled you back under the stream. He aided with washing the shampoo out of your hair with his hands, running through your scalp and squeezing at your hair as the soapy suds travelled down your hair and down to his feet.

You had completely forgotten about Otis, you realised, as Danny reached up to grab the bottle of conditioner, doing the same as before but only raking the product through the ends of your hair.

Your breathing was heavy, and you suddenly felt the urge to cry again, but not out of sadness this time. You turned around to face him, feeling no insecurity over the exposure of your bare body when his burning gaze remained on your face.

“Danny…” you started, frowning at the overwhelming feeling of your new realisation. Your face told him everything he needed to know, eyebrows pinched in desperation, and tears brimming at your eyes.

To your lack of knowledge, Danny had always felt a way for you that he shouldn’t have, loving you silently in the shadows under platonic guise. After years of yearning, only now did he see that you could finally feel it too. Be it only an inkling of affection, it was enough to make his heart skip.

He reached up and cupped your cheek, “I know, sweet girl.” He nodded, his thumb stroking the apple of your cheek lovingly, and you leaned into his touch. When he let go, you dropped your head, hanging it low between your bodies, your eyes closed in exhaustion.

Danny stepped forward slowly, his feet splashing against the pool of water at your feet, and he engulfed you in the embrace of his long arms. Your head fell into the spot between his arm and chest, and that same arm came up to cradle your head. You could feel his other bare arm on your back, your breasts pressed against his chest and you flushed at the proximity.

You desperately tried to hold him too, arms wrapped around his abdomen and folded up to hook your hands over his shoulders. You didn't notice the tears that flowed from your eyes, as they became one with the water that flowed between you both.

“Danny,” you whispered. He nuzzled into your hair, a comforting gesture that made your heart race.

“Hmm?” he replied softly, encouraging you to continue. The moment hung heavy in the air, filled with unspoken feelings.

The feeling was so overwhelming, that you realised you could no longer pretend to be just friends, as the desire to love him loudly completely consumed you.

Finally, you spoke, your confession bursting forth like a long held secret, “I think I love you.” The words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered, a rush of emotion that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

You felt his stomach tighten at your words, and he pulled back slightly to gaze down at you. You raised your head from his chest to meet his eyes to see them pleading in wonder. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. For so long, he had admired the beauty of your soul in silence, waited in suppressed agony, fearing that revealing his feelings would push you away. Your company was always enough for him to keep his feelings hidden, as just being near you to hear your laughter, your mind and your soul, had been more than enough.

But now, you were uttering the words he had dreamt of telling you for what felt like his whole life.

“Always,” he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. His sincerity washed over you like a warm embrace. He tucked your wet hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing your skin gently. “I always have.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief, searching his for confirmation. “What?” you managed to ask, your voice breaking. Instead of answering, Danny leaned down, closing the distance between you, and held his face close to yours. He lingered for a moment, as if giving you time to pull away, before he brought his lips to yours in a gentle caress.

His lips were soft and slow against yours, hesitant and testing at the new sensation. Neither of you could believe what was happening, and you marvelled at the intimacy of the moment, the tenderness. Never would you have thought this would be how you ended up, and now that it was happening, there was no going back.

Danny's hands rested hesitantly beside you, ghosting your skin as he resisted the urge to touch you, as he was painfully aware of your state of undress and didn't want to cross any boundaries. You took them into your own hands, and pulled them to rest on the sides of your waist. He gripped the skin softly at the sensation.

Your mouths explored each other, and you reached your hands up to tangle in his hair as you revelled in the new feeling. It felt as if you had searched every corner of Danny, as your years of friendship had taught you things about him even his family didn't know, yet this was unexplored territory.

Danny pulled away with a deep inhale, and he took in the sight of your flushed face, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide. A small smile crept onto his face at his realisation of what had just happened.

“You’re so beautiful, d’ you know that?” he whispered, hand gliding up and down the curve of your waist. You looked down shyly, at both the compliment and your own understanding of what had just happened.

“You are too,” you mumbled quietly, a blush tinting your cheeks. You could no longer look at Danny without your heart exploding, and when he smiled a bit wider at your words, you turned back around, reaching for the body wash and fiddling with the cap.

Danny was more hesitant to offer helping you clean your body than he was your hair, ever considerate of your boundaries. You had both taken huge steps in mere minutes, and the last thing he wanted was for you to feel rushed.

You of course knew this, and decided that your bold streak hadn’t ended yet. “Would you… help me with this one too?” you asked quietly, turning to look up at Danny through your lashes.

“Anything,” he answered with a nod, taking the bottle from your hands gently and pouring the soapy substance over his hands. You could tell he was still hesitant, the act of touching you was clearly daunting for him, and you tried your best to show him you were okay. You nodded at him to go ahead, and he gingerly reached his hands to your shoulders, massaging the product over them, pulling your arms out horizontally so that he could lather it across them too.

Avoiding the obvious, his hands dragged back up your arms and to your back. You turned for him, letting his strong fingers knead into your muscles, making you hum in approval, head dropping forward at the feeling. He tucked your hair over your right shoulder to move it out of his way. His hands travelled over the expanse of your back, fingers dipping into your dimples of venus, but not treading any further before he pulled them back up, running long stripes either side of your spine.

His hands travelled around your waist then, and you turned again for him as the warmth of his hands spread over your stomach, sides and ribs, hesitating just below your breasts.

Your stomach flipped as you became aware now that his gaze was not holding its respectful attachment to your face, and was now all over your chest, trying to touch you anywhere but there.

You bit your cheek, and slowly reached up to take his hand that was settled on your ribs into yours. His eyes zoned in on your own as you dragged his hand up your body and rested it on your breast.

“It’s okay,” you told him. To say that these moments were not entirely sexual anymore would be untrue. And you’d be lying if you said that you hadn’t caught glimpses of his situation down below, despite your efforts to keep your gaze above his waist.

Breath heavy, and feeling like he would pass out any moment, Danny tenderly ran his hands over your breasts, rounding at the swell and dipping in the valley as he lathered them in the soap. He wasn't hasty to move on, but he didn’t linger for too long, letting you know that he did not expect anything sexual from you. As he washed your upper half, you scrubbed at your bottom, running the soap in your hands over your legs and behind, to speed up the process.

Danny pulled you back under the stream, and quickly rejected your offer to wash him the same.

“You’re exhausted, and I’m worried if you spend another minute in the steam you’ll pass out,” he said with a teasing smile, half joking. You frowned at his words.

“I’m not exhausted, I can do it.”

“Honey…” he started, lifting your arm and showcasing your hands which were trembling without support.

You huffed at his consideration. “Okay, fine… if you’re sure.”

He smiled at you, his hand on your hip squeezing gently, “I am.” He dipped down and gave you a quick peck on the lips, the act startling you, as you had almost forgotten the events that just occurred between the two of you. As if you weren't just guiding his hand to your breasts. As if he weren’t standing before you in those moments, with an obviously painful erection.

You gave him one last smile before you pulled the shower curtain open and stepped out. The cold slapped you in the face and you were quick to shut the curtain behind you to keep Danny warm. Picking up your towel and wrapping it around your body was a beautiful reprieve from the biting cold, and when you looked out of the fogged glass of the bathroom window, you could tell that the rain outside was just as relentless as it was before.

You listened to foamy soap hit the floor as Danny washed through his own hair while you collected your hairbrush and other essentials, before you silently slipped out of the bathroom door, not bothering to close it all the way behind you.

Your mood now soaring at heights unimaginable, you padded to your bedroom, a small smile on your face as you thought back on the intimacy of the moments you had just shared. When you stepped into your bedroom though, you were reminded of the mess that was your life.

Your bed was soaked, sheets and pillows bore big wet patches and you were sure the moisture had soaked through to your mattress too. You shut your eyes and took a deep breath, before deciding what to do. You shuffled through your pyjama drawers and picked out some long plaid pants along with a white singlet and a hoodie. You changed quickly, not wanting the warmth of your body to succumb to the cold again, and once you were changed, you walked back out of your room and into the living room, where you set up camp on the couch.

Meanwhile, Danny was running his hands through his wet locks, the water cascading down his face as he replayed those moments over and over again in his mind. He had waited for you for so long. Loved you in silence for so long. And it was all worth it.

Once he left the shower he wrapped the last towel around his waist, squeezing the wetness out of his hair and leaving it otherwise to air dry.

As he left the bathroom, he could hear you humming softly in the living room, and he passed his room to see you again. Danny watched in admiration at you, dressed comfortably while you typed and scrolled on your phone, cross legged on the couch, Your wet hair hung down your back, but your sweater protected you from the cold this time.

He frowned when he saw the couch, set up in a way he could only assume was your attempt to sleep on it.

The sound of his arrival got your attention, “Hey, I’m ordering Thai delivery,” you said, eyes still trained on your phone as you typed in your card details.

Danny smiled warmly at you, “Great, thanks… um, what’s all this?” he asked, hands gesturing to the makeshift bed you had set up on the couch. Although just seeing him completely naked, and having that naked body pressed against your own, you stifled at the sight of him with only a towel around his waist.

You cleared your throat and averted your gaze, “Oh, my bed is really wet from… you know, lying on it earlier.”

He shook his head, “No, you aren’t sleeping on the couch. I have a double, you can sleep with me.” He immediately blushed at the alternate innuendo his words held, “Not like sleep together, just, you know, go to sleep,” he tripped over his words anxiously, making you force back a smile.

“Are you sure? I’m fine to—”

“Yes I’m sure. One hundred percent,” he assured quickly before he reached up to scratch the back of his neck, “I mean, we did just shower together.”

Now it was your turn to blush, and you looked back to your phone to hide your face, agreeing quietly.

Danny retreated to his room to get into his pyjamas, and quickly tidied the space up, feeling self conscious at the state his room was in, shoving his clothes into his drawers haphazardly, and others he took to the laundry basket. Once he was satisfied, he returned to the living room.

He sat down beside you, his thigh brushing yours and you suddenly became insecure of where you both stood. Usually, it would be normal to sit so close together, laughing and chatting through movies, but now, things were different. You didn't want to come across as pushy and rushed, but similarly didn't want to do the opposite, act cold or distant after the moments you had shared.

If Danny was having the same fears, he didn’t let it show, as he wrapped his arm around you and tugged you closer to him while he leaned over to reach for the TV remote with a grunt.

“Watcha wanna watch?”

You and Danny settled on the first movie you could, only pausing to get your takeout delivery from the door, before you returned to your position, which seemed to be steadily moving closer to Danny with each reposition or shuffle.

By the time the film was over and your bellies were full, you were exhausted. You had been emotionally wrecked throughout the day, ranging from betrayal and heartbreak, to renewal and love.

Danny steadied you by your elbow as you stood, helping you gather your things to take to his room. You were too sleepy to feel nervous.

“Which side do you sleep on?” you asked as you stood by the doorway.

Danny scratched the back of his head, “Usually the right, but I don't mind. I move around a lot when I sleep anyway.” Truth be told, Danny rathered that you slept on his side, as he knew that his pillow would smell like you by morning.

It apparently didn't matter though, as when you slipped under the covers of the left side of the bed beside him, his senses were overwhelmed with you. Your smell, your energy and your heat. It also wasn’t long before the two of you closed the distance between you, arms and legs tangled in your attempts to be impossibly closer to one another, your fronts pressed together just like the moments you shared in the shower.

It all felt so normal. You attributed it to being friends for your whole lives, giving you the ability to close emotional distance without second thought, but it was still startling nonetheless.

“Thanks again for letting me sleep here, it’s definitely more comfortable than the couch,” you whispered, and he reached behind him to turn off the bedside lamp.

Now cloaked in darkness, you relied only on your hearing to navigate Danny beside you. The rain was still pouring outside the window, and in a way, it felt fitting as a reminder of your day. While a disastrous storm brewed outside, you were safe and warm with Danny at home.

“Maybe… maybe we could make it a regular thing?” Danny asked nervously. “You know, since you love me and all that,” he teased, trying to ease the tension of his suggestion. You groaned in embarrassment and buried your head into his chest, hearing his chuckles vibrate in his chest.

“I would like that very much, thank you.”

“Don't thank me. You have no idea how happy I am to have you with me like this.”

You sighed deeply, and decided it was your turn to tease. “And just how long have you felt this way for me, hm?”

Danny chuckled dryly but swallowed, hesitating to tell you in case it made things weird. He didn’t want you to feel that his friendship had ever been false, or as a ruse to gain your attention in that way.

His nose brushed against your forehead, “I’ve known for sure since eighth grade.” His statement was heavy, yet honest, and it hung in the air wearily as he waited for you to respond.

You pulled your head away from him, “Eighth grade?! Danny… what— why didn’t you say anything?”

He sighed, “I didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

You understood, but wished he had told you sooner, as though you hadn’t ever realised it was quite love, you knew that you never would have turned away the idea of being with Danny like that.

“We wasted so much time,” you sighed.

“What? You mean you felt the same?” he asked, shock lacing his words as his hand tightened around your frame.

You nodded, “You’ve always treated me better than any boy I ever went out with. I just didn't think that— I didn't think that this was a possibility. I thought you were too good for that. Too—”

“Too good for what?”

“You know, like with your band and stuff. I don't know, I guess I thought you had more important people to see than me. I didn’t ever think you would— could actually see me like that,” you tried to explain.

Danny groaned, “Oh God. I’m never gonna live this down.”

Your brow creased in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“Sammy knew I liked you before I even did, used to tease me about it all the time. The three of them have watched me act like an idiot around you for years. I can't believe you thought that I was ‘too cool’ for you.” He chuckled, though regret laced the dry laugh.

You felt mild embarrassment at the thought that the boys, who you’d become close with the years that you knew Danny, were keeping the secret from you that would ultimately change your life indefinitely.

He whispered your name, pulling you from your thoughts, “I have always loved you. Nothing will ever change that.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, the words feeling new and foreign on your lips, yet somehow just right. You clutched his shirt in your hands and shuffled incredibly closer to him. He smelt like Danny, the comfort you had grown to turn to after many years of safekeeping your heart.

“Goodnight, sweet girl.” You felt him kiss the top of your head, followed by the feeling of his nose nuzzling into your hair and sighing deeply.

“Goodnight Danny.”

As you welcomed the blankets of exhaustion over your spent body, Danny began to hum a familiar tune, his voice sounding distant in your haze of sleep. Soon, the song became unmistakably recognisable.

Because, by The Beatles. Your favourite song.

𓅪

Complete the google form here to be added to my permanent taglist for any future fics!

Part 2

125 notes · View notes