#I have mixed feelings about that fic honestly

[viasdiary]

luigi’s always taking advantage of us in bed but when do we take advantage of him?? #usehim

love this prompt i definitely need to write more sub luigi fics

☆ please (luigi mangione x reader)

☆ warnings: rough sex, overstim, crying, begging, corruption, noncon if you squint?

☆ reader takes luigi's virginity and rides him until he's crying and begging

you’re sprawled out on the couch, half-watching tv, but your attention keeps drifting to luigi. he’s sitting beside you, one leg casually tucked under him, his broad shoulders filling out his black t-shirt. the shirt fits him just right—snug across his shoulders, stretching slightly over his chest and arms. it’s simple, but it’s working. the gray sweats he’s wearing hang low on his hips, letting the band of his boxers peek out.  his posture's stiff as he nervously fiddles with his phone. the two of you have hung out plenty of times before, but tonight feels different, there's some tension in the air, some feeling you can’t quite shake.

you’ve noticed it for a while now: how he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, how his smile lingers a little longer than it should. you know he's into you. and honestly? the fact that he's a little clueless about what to do with that attraction just makes it more fun.

"so," you begin, glancing over at him with a smirk, "you ever hooked up with anyone at one of your little frat parties?"

he pauses, clearly not expecting you to ask that, then chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

“uh, i mean… yeah, i’ve... hooked up with people, just not, like... that much, y'know?” he looks down at his phone, like maybe he can escape the conversation if he stares hard enough.

you let the silence hang for a moment, taking a calculated breath before leaning in slightly, watching the way his body tenses. "really? i find that hard to believe, especially for a guy as handsome as you," you say, your voice low.

he glances at you quickly, his eyes darting away when they meet yours. it’s cute—his usual cocky frat boy act falling apart under your attention.

“i mean, i’ve just been busy with school, that's all. not like i’m... avoiding it,” he mutters, but you can tell by the way he avoids your gaze that there’s more to it than just being "busy."

you smile knowingly, then shift just a little closer on the couch, your knee brushing his. it's subtle, but you notice the way he freezes at the contact. "y'know," you say casually, your voice low, "if you haven't had a real hookup, maybe i should, like, show you what you’re missing."

luigi's eyes widen, his gaze snapping to yours. for a moment, he seems frozen, processing your words. his brows press together a little. "and what exactly would that entail?"

you lean in closer, your lips nearly brushing his ear. "well," you murmur, "i could start by showing you how to properly kiss someone." your hand slides onto his thigh, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin material of his sweats. "then maybe we could explore a few... other things."

luigi swallows hard, his breath catching. you can feel the tension in his body, the way he's holding himself back.

"i, uh... i think i'd like that," he manages to say, his voice barely above a whisper.

you pull back slightly, meeting his eyes. there's a mix of desire and nervousness in his gaze that sends a thrill through you. you decide to take charge, knowing he needs a little push.

"come here," you say softly, cupping his face with your free hand. you guide him closer, feeling his warm breath against your lips. pausing just a tiny bit away from his face, you let the anticipation build for a moment before closing the distance.

the kiss starts gentle, almost tentative. luigi's lips are soft, and you can taste a hint of the beer he'd been drinking earlier. as you deepen the kiss, you feel him relax into it, his hand coming up to rest on your waist.

you break away briefly, watching his face. his eyes are closed, lips slightly parted, a flush spreading across his cheeks. when his eyes flutter open, they're dark with want. "how was that?” you ask, grinning   "so good."  luigi's voice comes out barely a whisper. his eyes are still locked on yours, filled with a mixture of awe and growing desire. you can't help but feel a surge of satisfaction at his reaction. "oh, we're just getting started," you murmur, running your fingers through his soft curls. he leans into your touch.

"show me more," he breathes, and the vulnerability in his voice sends a shiver down your spine.

you shift, swinging one leg over to straddle his lap. his hands instinctively move to your hips, gripping tightly as if to steady himself. you can feel the heat radiating from his body, the slight tremor in his fingers.

"you’re so shaky," you whisper, placing your hands on his chest. you can feel his heart racing beneath your palms. as you sit in his lap you can feel him hardening beneath you.

“are you already fucking hard?” you scoff, a smug grin playing on your lips. he can’t even look you in the eyes. “sorry,” he mutters. you look down at him,

 "that’s right." you say, your voice husky. you grind down against him slightly, eliciting a soft gasp.

luigi's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your skin. you can see the internal struggle playing out on his face—the desire to let go warring with his nervousness.

you lean in, trailing kisses along his jaw. "relax," you murmur against his skin. "just feel."

his head falls back, exposing the column of his throat. you take the opportunity to nip and suck at the sensitive skin there, leaving a mark that will be visible tomorrow. the thought of everyone seeing it, knowing what you did, sends a thrill through you.

luigi lets out a low moan, his hips bucking up involuntarily. "god," he breathes.

“i've never done this before, i'm sorry” he says, looking up at you with his wide brown eyes. he says it so desperately, and you know in that moment, you need to fucking ruin him.

"shh," you soothe, cupping his face in your hands. "i'm gonna take care of that."

his eyes search yours, vulnerability and trust shining in them. you lean in, capturing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. as you explore his mouth with your tongue, you feel some of the tension leave his body.

your hands slide down his chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath his shirt. when you reach the hem, you break the kiss just long enough to murmur, "can i take this off?"

luigi nods eagerly, lifting his arms to help you remove the shirt. as it comes off, you can't help but admire his toned physique. your fingers trace the lines of his abs, feeling him shiver beneath your touch.

"you're fuckin’ perfect," you breathe, leaning in to press kisses along his collarbone. he's unbearably hard beneath you and you can feel his erection pressing into your inner thigh. you grind down against him again, relishing the way his breath hitches.

"please," luigi whimpers, his hips jerking up to meet yours. 

"please what?" you tease, nipping at his earlobe. "use your words, lu." he swallows hard, his cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of red.

"i... i need..." he trails off, struggling to articulate his desires. you decide to take pity on him.

"you want me to touch you?" you ask, your hand hovering just above the waistband of his sweats.

luigi nods frantically. "yes, god yes." he breathes.

slowly, torturously, you slide your hand beneath the fabric. when your fingers wrap around his length, luigi lets out a strangled moan, his head falling back against the couch. he's already dripping precum  you stroke him slowly, savoring the way he trembles beneath you.

his cock is hot and heavy in your hand, pulsing with each movement. you use his precum to slick your motions, making each stroke smoother.

"fuck," luigi gasps, his hips bucking into your touch. his eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted as he pants heavily.

you lean in, pressing open-mouthed kisses along his neck.

"does that feel good, baby?" you murmur against his skin.

he nods, unable to form words. his hands grip your hips tighter, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks.

you speed up your strokes, twisting your wrist on the upstroke in a way that makes him cry out. "you're so responsive," you mutter, nipping at his earlobe. "i love it."

“i'm close,” he whines.you stop abruptly, pushing off his chest to look down at him. he’s looking up at you, wide eyed and needy.

“why'd you stop?” he practically begs.

“did i say you could fucking finish?” you chuckle cruelly.

“please,” he whines, his voice shaky.

“please let me finish,” he groans.

"anything you want, luigi" you coo, sliding down his lap and kneeling on the floor in front on the couch, both your hands planted on his thighs. you drag his sweatpants and boxers down to his ankles, letting his erection spring free, his tip pink and swollen, glistening with precum.

"i'll let you finish," you say, taking his length in your hand before guiding the tip into your mouth. he's completely overwhelmed by the sight of you stroking him, taking him in your mouth and sucking softly.

"fuck," he breathes, his head falling back against the couch. his hands grasp at your hair as you slide your mouth down around his cock. you let him hit the back of your throat as you look up at him. you move up and down, the sound of you gagging on his thick cock fills the room.

he's lost in the sensation, his hips thrusting forward into your mouth, trying desperately to chase his release. he's so close, his entire body tense.

"fuck, please," he pleads, his voice strained. "let me cum, please." you pull off him, stroking him hard and fast. "beg for it," you tease, a smirk playing on your lips.

"please," luigi begs, his voice cracking. "i need to cum, please let me cum." you continue to stroke him, feeling his cock throb in your hand.

"let go, baby" you murmur, leaning forward to swirl your tongue around his tip.

"oh, fuck" he moans, his hips jerking erratically as his orgasm hits him.

you swallow down every drop of his cum, continuing to stroke him through his climax. he's gasping and shuddering, his fingers tangled in your hair.

when he's finally spent, you sit back, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb.

"you felt so fucking good," he pants, a smile spreading across his face.

"oh, you thought we were done?" you stifle a laugh.

"i'm nowhere near fuckin' finished with you." you say, his smile fading as you pull down your skirt and panties before climbing back onto his lap.

"but i just finished-" he says softly before you cut him off.

"you didn't think i was done with you did you? i haven't even come yet, luigi" you say, guiding his hand between your legs.

"just touch me," you command, pressing his hand firmly against your dripping cunt. he can feel how wet you are, how much you want him. he has no idea what to do, his fingers fumbling around between your thighs, his hand shaky.

"god, you're fucking useless." you mutter, gripping his cock firmly, slowly guiding him towards your entrance.

"you have no idea how much i've thought about this." you whisper, almost to yourself, slowly lowering yourself down on him, inch by inch.

you let out a low moan as you sink down fully, taking him all the way inside of you. he lets out a sharp gasp, his hips bucking up involuntarily. he looks up at you with those sweet brown eyes, his lips slightly puffy from being kissed.

"god, you're fucking perfect" you moan, your head tilting back in pleasure as you start to move. he's still overwhelmed by the new sensations, his eyes squeezing shut as you ride him.

"god, it's too much" he gasps, his fingers digging into you.  you're lost in the feeling of him inside you, filling you up.

"i know, baby, i know." you mutter, moving more roughly. he moans with every movement, his hips thrusting up to meet yours. he's completely under your spell, his body responding to yours.

"fuck, i'm close" he moans, his fingers digging into your hips.

"not yet," you order, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking his head back.

"i can't take it," he whines, looking up at you once again, his eyes glassy, tears hanging from his dark eyelashes.

"shut the fuck up and take it." you groan, picking up the pace. he cries out as you ride him harder and faster, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing through the room.

"god, you feel so good," you moan, leaning down to kiss him deeply. you break the kiss, staring at his pretty face. he's all fucked out and crying,

"you're being so rough," he sobs.

"cum for me," you murmur, feeling your own orgasm approaching.

"god, i'm close" he manages to say, his voice strained and shaky.

"cum." you respond harshly, riding him harder.

he lets out a loud groan as he cums inside you, his cock twitching inside you. the feeling of him spilling inside you pushes you over the edge, and you cry out, your walls clenching around him.

as you both come down from your highs, the realization of what just happened starts to sink in. luigi's gaze falls away from yours, and he lets his head rest against the couch.

"you okay?" you ask, a little out of breath.

"yeah, just... a lot." he sniffles.

[spookythesillyfella]

ominous and threatening sketchy ... sniffle ...

★ some extra stuff under cut :

some concept drawingz i made for the little guyz of an unfinished fic of mine

and headshotz that i redrew digitally

[snailpebbles]

your fic about Chishiya was so good I feel like you captured his character perfectly 😩 will you write more about him? I can barely find any good writings about him and yours is truly so perfect 😔💓

Patchwork Love

pairing: Chishiya Shuntaro x gn!reader

summary: after being injured in a game, Chishiya drags you off and is somehow more silent than usual. What's his problem?

tags: friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, they're both so stupid

warnings: descriptions of injuries including blood, non-sexual unwanted touch, emotional constipation, Chishiya cries lmao

a/n: hope you enjoy :) my writing is rusty lol but I love this trope

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Everything was going fine at first; you were on your own in a level three spades game, lightwork! It was a construction zone with many metal rails and walkways, and multiple wide pipes at the very top. The objective was simple - get to the top before the time runs out. At first it was that simple, that is until the freezing cold water began to pour in randomized sections. A game of strength and luck it seems. There were others from the Beach with you, so of course you figured you'd just team up and make sure no one slips. Wrong! To save their own asses just as the four of you were getting towards the top, they used your body as an easier to grip ladder. Not only did you feel violated, you also felt icy cold fear mixing with white hot rage. What the fuck? You pulled those three up so many times at the risk of drowning and for what?

The water pours down on you as they cheer from the top with just two minutes left, freezing and blinding you as you struggle to actually breathe. Two hands on one thin bar that's already trembling under your suspended weight. Fuck. Everything felt like a blur as you hauled your leg over another bar, using all your strength to not drown from the water rushing across you and to pull yourself onto the walkway. For a moment it seems like something had snapped, your leg overstretched and arms overexerted. You aren't built for this! Your life before consisted of studying and absolutely destroying kids on x-box! As you lay on the metal grating, water having ceased with a heaving chest, Chishiyas face flashes in your mind. Well fuck - you're realizing you like him at the worst possible time. With that motivation in mind alongside the need to deck those three in the balls, you force your aching body up the rest of those rails with ten seconds left on the clock.

The three boys are obviously shocked to see you alive and rush off, once again leaving you behind with no transportation back. Lovely.

You aren't quite sure how you managed to get back to Beach but by the time you do, the sun is beginning to rise. Damn, what if they vacated your room? The morning air is chilly and you know you have some sort of hypothermia if your chilled fingertips are anything to go by, not to mention the way your head is beginning to swim - pun intended.

As your torn up, shaking form stumbles through the gates past a few surprised militants and even more surprised party-goers, Kuina barrels towards you. She looks both put together and a mess, her eyes red rimmed and seeming to water - pun intended - as her warm hands cup your ice cold cheeks. She chokes up at this realization and ushers you inside, muttering something about Ann being a little busy with some project as she leads you two to a familiar door.

Chishiyas face, as calm as ever, cracks when Kuina barges in. He's up in an instant and wasting no time as apparently one look at you is enough to know what you need - or maybe he just knows you. A blanket is around your shoulders before you can blink and now you're on his bed, unfortunately not in the context you'd wish for now. Kuina runs off after Chishiya instructs her to get a whole load of things, but you honestly have no idea what because you're too busy staring at him. Chishiyas face is contorted in a way you've never seen before or at least haven't been the recipient of. His eyes are focused in solely on you, his brows furrowed and typical smirk gone in favor of a grimace. Most notable are his hands resting heavy on your shoulders as if you'd shrug the warm blanket off. Those hands you now realize match those in your dreams are surprisingly warm and unsurprisingly steady - Chishiya was a little less smart than you thought if he didn't know by now that you knew of his profession. The idea of him in a doctors coat distracts you as he gets up from where he was crouched in front of you, reappearing with bandages and disinfectant.

"So..how'd your game go?" You break the awkward silence and feel your cheeks warm at how scratchy your voice is. Must've been the borderline constant drowning. His sharp gaze makes you almost flinch with the weight in it, your own eyes dropping back to your lap. Of course he doesn't respond, only making some vaguely disapproving noises as those eyes scan your wounds. His silence begins to piss you off, that rage from earlier being misdirected at him. Seriously, you almost died in a frankly horrific way and this is all he has to give?

"I can patch myself up. I'm not helpless." The tension rises, twisting uncomfortably in your gut as Chishiya stays in place while you glare at him. With a huff as he refuses to speak, you get up on weak legs. This seems to snap him out of it as he grabs your hips - and just at the right time. Your legs give way as the exhaustion hits all at once to only fuel that anger, a frustrated sound coming from you as Chishiya tuts disapprovingly again.

"Stay still. You're hurt and too tired to move." His voice is rough and annoyingly calm. Is he allergic to worrying? You obey though as he unravels the bandages and uncaps the disinfectant, steeling yourself for the following pain.

The blond has the grace to look at least a little apologetic at every wince and soft cry your battered form gives, even letting you hold onto either his shoulders or jacket. The cuts, scraps, bruises, and blood staining your body worry him even if he doesn't show it. Images begin flashing in his mind of internal bleeding, broken ribs, torn muscles-

"Are you..crying?" Your soft voice breaks the less tense silence, your own tears having dried up some time ago. Chishiya pales as he becomes aware of the liquid dripping down his cheeks and hastily wipes them away, refusing to meet your gaze or lift his head.

"No." He replies shortly, heart picking up its pace as he realizes he has to patch your torn hands. You follow his gaze and readily hold both hands out, skin raw and bleeding still. He winces internally at the sight of your beautiful hands so heavily marred.

Warmth spreads through you as he takes your hand in his non-dominant one to carefully disinfect it, whispering apologies as you hold back cries of pain. Somehow you aren't too shocked by this display of care, an inner part of you having sensed something was different by the lingering looks and the way he is always there. Chishiya wraps your hand with a gentleness you weren't sure he possessed, repeating the process with your other hand until every wound is patched up. Not a word was properly shared, your eyes rarely met, and you didn't comment again on the occasional slip of tears you caught.

"Go change in the bathroom." He mutters after passing you actual clothes, aka his own sweatpants and a t shirt. Once you step back out of the bathroom - definitely not after taking a moment to admire yourself in his clothes - Chishiya does just what you definitely didn't. The admiration is well hidden yet you catch it in the way he turns his head slightly to the left and steps back, as if you're a danger.

"These are really comfy, thanks." An appreciative smile brightens your face and threatens to blind him, so he sits down where you were moments earlier. You take a seat beside him and try to hide your steadily growing flustered state when that damn white jacket is placed around your shoulders. He says nothing so neither do you, the silence now companionable even as sparks burn its edges.

"What happened." It's not a question and you know that, just as you know what happened isn't your fault. The tears, anger and irrational shame, prick your eyes anyways. He doesn't comment, he only takes your pinkie with his.

After a deep inhale and calming exhale, you speak. "It was an easy spades game and I teamed up with three guys from here, but towards the end they just.." You choke up momentarily, but with the way his hand moves to rub your forearm, you know you'll get it out.

"They knocked me down so I was hanging and used me like a fucked up bridge- their hands were everywhere and I know it was for survival only but it was so..so dehumanizing." The words come out softer and softer until you aren't even sure Chishiya can hear, but he does. He only ever listens for you. His face is as calm as ever as you cry, arm light as it wraps around your shoulder to bring you into the only safe haven you have in this fucked up place.

Time passes, you aren't sure how much but you are sure you've dozed off, yet Chishiya hasn't moved once. He holds you close and his fingers still rub circles on your shoulder, mindful of a bruise there as he's memorized your injuries. There's some snacks and another blanket on the small dresser, presumably brought by Kuina.

Chishiya knows you've slipped into that numb state, so he doesn't mind helping you eat some crackers and drink that tea you're so obsessed with. He doesn't mind keeping you right there, right where he can protect you and you can rest; where you can heal yourself. What he does mind is you deciding to break out of this numbness by pestering him.

"You cried." You whisper, poking his chest lightly as his arms tenses around you. For a moment you fear you may have misjudged the air and his actions, envy flooding - pun unintended - through you at the idea that maybe all his patients get such treatment. His answer calms your thoughts.

"Yes, you could say I was..worried. Don't do that again." His warm breath brushes across the top of your head and a faint smile tugs at your lips from the slight roughness to his typically smooth voice. Your head props up on his chest so you can see him and he can't resist looking down at you. His eyebrow raises in a silent question that has you grin, that familiar smirk returning.

"If it gets me this treatment.."

"No."

"Worth a shot."

"..You don't need to be hurt to get my attention." The one-sided banters comes to a halt as your eyes widen, staring at his ever calm face like he hand painted the stars for you. If he could, he would.

With a slight grunt you manage to sit up a little better, worry flickering over Chishiyas face at your show of pain. Damn you could get used to this. Words aren't his thing so what better communication than action? Even with bandages, your hands ever so carefully cup his jaw, moving slowly incase he doesn't want this.

Chishiya really fucking wants this. With the way you're being so gentle, so considerate, when others in his life haven't almost keels him over. But you're injured, mentally and physically, so slow and steady will win this race. The kiss is soft and unhurried, as if there isn't an invisible timer looming over your heads. Time is irrelevant when he whispers your name oh so quietly and his hand oh so carefully caresses your matching tear stained cheek. With every touch, every shared breath, the previous hands are washed away for now. They'll haunt you at night but Chishiya will be there to wipe them away, whether that be with affection or simply being there as you get a snack to soothe your brain.

You know why he cried, why he looked so worried, why it's his clothes you're wearing, and why Kuina said Ann was busy when you actually passed by her lounging in the hall. He loves and he cares, the same as you. It only took almost losing you to realize it.

As you separate slowly and lay down, drawn together as if magnets, you drift off. Chishiya waits patiently as your breath evens out before slipping away.

It's the next morning when you wake up alone in the cold bed, insecure heartbreak seeping in until Chishiya quietly walks into the room, not hesitating with the gentle squeeze to your shoulder and kiss to your head. No words are exchanged when you settle in the chair next to him by his desk, watching him build who knows what as you munch away on those snacks. His ankle his hooked with yours and that is all that matters - you can ignore the split knuckles and prideful hint to his face because he's yours, and you're his.

[lesbianherald]

hiii I’m curious : what’s your process for creating your stories? like character development, plotting, creating arcs, etc?

thank you for asking !!! i'm going to get way longer and more thorough about this than necessary I feel it in my bones so I'm going to read more this now (I included a few tidbits from my miro board for carry the blade :) )

it's such a mixed bag ! part of this is my adhd lmao, and part of it is because, genuinely, I think each story needs something different.

almost ALWAYS (with one rare exception of a sci/fi fantasy world I've been building for years) I start with character, especially in original work. Because character is everything it's who we're following it's what the audience/readership will grab onto. Usually I have a basic premise and setting already there, but I don't build on it until I get to know who we're dealing with in the story. And then after building up the premise, setting, and plot I do even more character work after.

sometimes.... sometimes I get really impatient to start and start writing half way through the planning process. But anyways.

so I come up with character. do the basics. think about what their deal is. What is the journey they need to have, the lesson they need to learn, what themes and emotions do I want to explore with this character? Why is she important to me? Why will she be important to others?

I also think a lot about relationships

i just wrote a coming of age dramatic comedy for instance, and for that one, I broke up the story into my protagonists relationships. Wrote out the arc/story of each relationship and then combined each of these arcs into the key points that made up the film. Each relationship I wanted to be relevant to her grieving process, as she had just lost her mother. IDK if that makes sense. I wish I could show you but unfortunately I cannot.

for fic its honestly similar, but we already know character, so I usually ask what about this character/these characters am I most excited to explore.

that being said, coming home came to me in the idea for what they'd be like in modern day, and then a single idea for a single scene - their first kiss in the lab. I wrote that first, then asked myself what the context I wanted to give it was. Of course, I changed it a little once I actually got to writing and fleshing out chapter eight.

but this fantasy fic i'm writing is a fun example. I'm building out a lot. I'm building out characters, the world, the themes. - using visuals to help me kind of guide myself.

but because I have adhd and get impatient. I am outlining throughout this process to keep myself entertained. perhaps ideally you'd figure out everything first then outline then write but my brain just doesn't work that way.

in fics, especially, the relationship is so important that I really like to see how the obstacles they face, both due to their own psychology and internal pressures, can reflect the themes, create tension, etc.

but i also like to reflect on side characters too - their motivations and desires. So they don't just become like - flat little reflections of the central love story.

Finally, and this i learned from acting theory mostly - but I love it - is in each scene I like to think of what each character wants, what they are going to do to try and get that, and why they want it. In this fic, wants are something I also look at from a chapter by chapter basis.

side note - and i'm only saying this this far down so hopefully not too may people will see it - but I do have a secret subplot going on throughout the first half of this story that the audience doesn't know about.

in order to make this work I've been mapping out everything going on behind the scenes, and making sure they pair up well with events that people reading will see. it helps me plant little hints and seeds while hopefully not giving too much away (secret subplot in blue, actual story in red)

sorry i know this is such a ramble I just took my meds and had a double shot of expresso so I am buzzing right now lmao! Obviously I'm not the expert and there's not only one way. And also it really is so different for me every time. It's important to think about what the story actually calls for !

[waynes-multiverse]

Aww, glad you enjoyed the first part of this! I tried to capture him as best as I could. I definitely had too much fun with all the twists 😂🤍

(A hot tub in the back, huh? Wayne, stop giving me ideas for ESC one-shots. 🥵🫠)

Yesssss, girl! Please write that!!! 🥵🔥🫠

Ooh yep! You really picked up on aspects of Russell's personality that I felt inherently when I was watching (studying) him, but hadn't consciously put into words. 👌🏽

He's for sure a little enigma 😏 (and a little shit lol) I found it interesting when I read the books that he was described as reclusive, and even though he comes off as charming and quirky in the show, I still get the feeling he's hiding the biggest stuff underneath the surface... I really wanted to showcase that his behavior and words don't always match his feelings and thoughts 👀

It's also so interesting (and crazy) how little Russ and Colter know about each other now as men. There's got to be shades of who they were when they were younger, but it's bittersweet in a sense. And now they're both trying to suss each other out like lone wolves that are kinda sorta friends. 😂

Yesss!!! That's always something I wanted the show to address, so I had to weave it in there! 😂 And considering they grew up pretty isolated and only had each other, it made sense to me they would've had a pretty close relationship as children (kinda like Sam and Dean if they'd ever been ripped apart for 20+ years 🥲)

But naturally, they wouldn't trust one another fully after all this time. I had a lot of fun writing their suspicion mixed in with brotherly banter 🤓

Okay, this whole thing with the reader is fascinating. Because why does he have to go through all this trouble to find her if they've been a thing for 10...12...14...20-something years?! (Love how the number in Russell's "memory" just kept getting longer. 🤣🤣)

Russell giving vague estimates of numbers actually became a running gag lol I used it first in the prequel before sprinkling it in here too 😂😂

Not the "we were on a break" gif 🤣🤣 (But the topic of how broken up they really were comes up in the next part lmao)

I'm full of questions, but I know you have a brilliant master plan for all of this. I've noticed this about the most recent stories you've created, but you're so very good at writing these law enforcement/military men paired with heroines that share their world, almost the "same foxhole" type of deal. Except for that his heroine partners usually outrank him. 😏

Haha thanks!! I honestly think I get hung up too much on details and then it escalates into a monstrosity 😂

And you already now I love all things SVU, crime etc. A year ago, I then got super into spy/CIA novels and media (Homeland, The Americans etc.), so I've been dreaming to write something like this for ages and jumped on the chance with Russell's background 🤓

Lol yes they always outrank him, don't they? I might go with the "tough love" approach a little too much, but I always feel like the Beaus, Deans, Soldier Boys, and Russells of this world need that 😂🫶

Also something about a little submission in a strong guy is a turn-on... 🫠

I tend to go the opposite route, partly because I'm interested in the dynamic between these kinds of men and a "civilian," but also because I don't think I'd be able to do the "same foxhole" trope justice. So that's something I really admire about you as a writer. 💜

Oh, I know! It's actually why I love your stories so much because you go the opposite route of me and I get a different experience. I usually struggle more with the "civilian" characters 😂 For fluffier fics, I go more civilian as well, but I clearly had an agenda for this one lmao

The push and pull banter between Colter and Russ in this chapter was also so fun to read lol. I could literally quote every moment because it was all so well-written and priceless. And it just kept building up the mystery of the reader and why Russell is doing all of this, right up until that awesome cliffhanger!!

Aww, thanks! That means a lot 🥰 I had so much fun writing those two. At some points, they even gave me Sam & Dean vibes 🥲❤️

Thanks so much for that sweet comment, Alex!!! 🤍

Btw, I'm so excited to read the last parts of ATW and the ESC one shots!! I so wanted to read them before the new year, thinking a week-long stay with baby's grandparents would get me some Mommy time, but... family. My husband actually sent me this after we left and I still feel it deeply 😂👇

The Exit Strategy – Part 1

Summary: Russell is ready to hang it all up and retire, open up a brewery, and enjoy the rest of his civilian life. However, there's one important thing missing before he can take the big plunge. Luckily, he knows just the right person to help him find it.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, language, mystery, a tinge of angst, humor & brotherly banter, one tiny surprise 🤓

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: Happy holidays, guys! Enjoy 🎄❤️

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Part 1: This Is Not a Pipe

The heavy truck door slammed shut behind him as Russell slid into the passenger seat with an exhaustive sigh. Colter’s big pickup was parked right next to his beautiful Chevelle in that same old motel parking lot in Virginia.

Russell hadn’t moved – yet. Well, sort of. He’d been away on assignment in some frosty region for a couple of weeks. He wasn’t allowed to say where exactly he’d been, and he knew better than to put it into writing, so let’s just agree he was at the North Pole looking for Santa Claus.

He could’ve ended up anywhere he wanted once he touched ground in the States again, but a very appreciated phone call from a former colleague made the decision for him. Besides, Russell knew this particular motel well. The coffee was more than decent and got the job done, the owner and employees were nice, comforting, and, most of all, trustworthy, and there were always fresh towels.

“Extra fluffy for you, Mr. Russell,” Rosa, the maid, would say every morning with the brightest smile.

Oh, and they had a hot tub in the back…

“Thanks for coming, man,” Russell extended his greeting without glancing at his younger brother once. He could feel Colter’s scrutinizing eyes on him, though, drilling for answers. Granted, his request had been rather unusual, so Russell understood where his younger brother’s ever-frozen furrowed brow stemmed from.

Providing answers didn’t come easy for the older Shaw, however. In fact, it had always been sort of a problem for him – even in the past. Especially in the past. Russell never lied, but he did omit things. Important things. On purpose.

“Yeah, uh, sure,” Colter replied with a polite smile as he started the car and rolled out of the lot.

Ah, yes, politeness…

That was what they were at, although it was progressively improving. It was only the third time the brothers were seeing each other since they had reconnected. And while the last two encounters had given the Shaws some well-needed time to talk things out and build trust, Colter was still naturally wary of his estranged sibling. As was Russell.

“So, what’s this about? You were pretty vague on the phone. You in trouble?”

That finally caught Russell’s full attention. He quickly shook his head, causing his hair to fall into his face. “What? No! No… No trouble,” he swiftly assuaged his brother with a dismissive hand gesture and a lighthearted chuckle. “Just need your help tracking down an old friend of mine, is all.”

Colter quirked an eyebrow at that. “Another Army buddy of yours?”

“Uh, something like that, yeah,” Russell replied rather mysteriously and didn’t even try to conceal the fact that he was hiding something more behind his ambiguous answer. But Colter only intensified his stare at him and wouldn’t let go that easily. Russell knew that. After all, they were related.

Persistence was a Shaw family trait. Another survival skill, if you will.

But this time, Russell wasn’t hiding a big government secret (or maybe he was). No lives depended on this particular mission (or so he thought). He wasn’t protecting a client, a company, or even his dubious employer (but someone else). He wasn’t choked by an NDA or about to save someone in grave danger (as far as he knew).

No, if anything, it was the fact that Russell didn’t know how much he could or should share with his brother. They were related, yes. But, technically, they hadn’t seen each other in decades, so they weren’t just considered merely estranged but strangers. Russell had always been aware of that fact, and Colter was beginning to catch on.

Especially during this mission.

See, once upon a time, the two hadn’t been just brothers. After moving to the cabin, societal contacts became scarce for the siblings. All they had was them. They were friends. Best friends. Always competitive, but friends nonetheless.

How much did they really know about each other now, though? How much of the old was still there?

“So, who are we looking for? What’s the guy’s name?” Colter asked, suddenly eager as he jumped into gear. He had always been restless, even as a kid, which fondly reminded Russell of their childhood.

But how much was he still the Russell that Colter once knew?

Well, Russell, on the other hand, remained calm and ruffled a casual hand through his beard. “Well, she’s, uh–”

Eyebrow cocked, Colter snapped his head to the passenger seat where his brother started to squirm. “Oh… Oh, so it’s a she,” he emphasized with a small grin. “Now I think I get it.”

There it is. I knew it, Russell thought with an internal sigh. In order for this mission to work, he knew he had to reveal some things. Private things. Things about himself and his life. Going in, Russell knew he couldn’t ask Colter for help without giving him something.

Their father had loved tests (and so did you – but that’s another story…). Russell always thought it had been the professor in him. So, Russell saw this as a test as well.

Could he trust Colter? And more pressingly, considering some long held accusations of murder, did Colter trust him?

A clear of Russell’s throat cut right through Colter’s chuckle. And then, the eldest tried his best to give no reaction at all. “Yes, she’s a… woman, but hold your horses. It’s not what you think, okay?” Colter lifted his eyebrow once more, causing Russell to heave another exhaustive sigh. “Fine, alright? It’s exactly what you think.”

Well, close enough, Russell thought. He knew Colter couldn’t even possibly imagine the reality in his wildest dreams.

Usually, Russell was an expert in avoiding uncomfortable questions. He was a pro at ditching answers and keeping secrets, even under torture and duress. However, there was just something entirely unique about dodging questions posed by little brothers.

And Russell saw it as a perfect bonding opportunity. He wanted to fill the chasm between them that their father’s death had caused – once and for all. But he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t walking around on eggshells most of the time – something that reminded him of you again.

Learning from past mistakes, Russell wanted Colter to experience the fun side of him. The one that brewed his own beer, cared too much about his car, and had weird tastes in food. He chose to leave out the rest – the dark stuff and the very best stuff, too.

After all, Russell was good at omitting things.

Colter chuckled triumphantly. “Does this mean you’re finally giving up on Reenie?”

Amused, Russell let out a snort. “Ha! You wish… First things first, alright? Let’s just see how this thing pans out. It’s kind of a long shot. You know that exit plan I told you about?”

“Yeah, you wanna open your own brewery, right?”

“Yeah, well, let’s just say in an ideal world this, uh, woman would be part of that exit,” Russell said and sounded purposely casual as if he didn’t care the mission was successful or not in the end, omitting yet another thing – he did care.

He cared a fucking lot.

“Really? Okay.” Colter scratched his jaw and gave his words some thought. Then he offered a small, yet kind, smile. Honestly, Russell didn’t know what he had expected. “But, you know, if you want me to find the future Mrs. Shaw, I’m gonna need more information to go on. A name, last address, or a-, uh, a picture, maybe?”

“Well, name’s not gonna help you much in this case.” Your first name might’ve been shareable intel, but your last name was of the highest classification. “Her last address that I know of was in Berlin. And while I do have one photo of her, it’s not meant for your eyes, brother,” Russell said with a firmly territorial look that still carried a mischievous twinkle, revealing the exact nature of the photograph to be indeed inappropriate.

Russell had one naughty photo, yes. But he had a whole giant box of others, too.

Colter’s eyebrows met above his nose as he licked his lips. Customarily, people gave him more details when they needed him to find someone. But then again, those people usually weren’t his brother. “Do you know anything about this woman? How long have you two dated?”

“Uhm… not that long,” Russell supplied with a clear of his throat before mumbling the rest of his answer, hoping his beard would swallow most of his words. “Ten years. Give or take…”

What is time anyway if nothing but a concept, right?

Colter blinked at him and almost steered the vehicle off-road before gripping the wheel a little tighter. “I’m sorry… Did you just say ten years?”

“Well, might be more like twelve,” he admitted finally. “Well, anyways, saw her last three years ago.”

“Wow, okay, uhm…” Colter became quiet for a moment, speechless probably, the tiny bits of information running on a loop through his mind. He figured his brother still had lived a life while they hadn’t been speaking. Of course he had. He just never thought about what that life might have entailed, aside from classified military operations. “So, you’ve dated a woman for twelve years…”

“Fourteen.”

“…haven’t seen her in three, and know basically nothing about her?”

Russell snorted a laugh. “Yeah, I know. Ridiculous… Not even sure the name she did give me was her real one,” he said. It was a joke. He did know the name. He knew everything there was to know about you. So, maybe he did lie – sometimes. “But it’s the job, you know? It’s-, uh, it’s complicated.”

That part was true. Truer than he could ever possibly describe in words.

“I guess so…” Colter sighed, and Russell could hear the growing frustration. “So, she does what you do?”

Russell nodded. “In a way, yeah…” And Colter knew what that answer meant – he couldn’t say more. Again. “But don’t worry. We won’t have to turn over every stone on the face of this planet. I have a general idea of where she lives these days,” Russell provided. “One of my, uh, associates was working a job with her not that long ago. That’s how I found out she’s back in the States.”

Colter nodded in acceptance, knowing it was no use to try and prod more answers out of his brother. “Alright. Guess that’s something. So, where are we headed to?”

Russell then flashed him a grin with newfound determination sparkling in his green eyes. “Falls Church.”

The short drive had remained quiet for the most part. Colter refrained from asking more questions, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get straight answers out of his older brother in one form or the other. To accentuate Colter’s assumption of receiving non-answers, Russell mostly stared out the window with an intensity that had Colter believe his brother was counting trees when, in fact, Russell was pondering what he would, could, or should tell Colter.

Of course, Colter could also always ask more questions about their elusive father, but he didn’t do that either. Sure, one could say he was curious. More than that even.

What did Russell really know about his death? Their mother? Their family? Their work?

Another time, he kept telling himself throughout whenever he stole glances at his long-lost sibling. It was too soon. What was the point when Russell was so clearly reluctant to share anything at all?

Thus, there was nothing left but silence among peaceful woods and dense foliage till Colter pulled his truck over curbside in the idyllic town center of Falls Church.

Patiently, he waited a moment for Russell to open the floor and tell them their next logical steps. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, blew raspberries, clicked his tongue, and waited and waited and waited…

Nothing.

If Colter didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought someone carved a lifeless wax statue out of his brother and planted it on his passenger seat. Russell’s entire body stood motionless, only a set of green eyes flickered alive every once in a while and swayed out the windshield in search of something – or someone.

“So, what’s the plan here?” Colter asked with a clear of his throat. “You just wanna stay here and wait till she accidentally runs across the street?” It was meant as a joke, but to Colter’s dismay, Russell remained dead serious.

“That’s exactly what we’re doing,” the older Shaw confirmed and squinted his eyes at the busy street. Again, he had omitted a few things. In his mind, Colter didn’t need to know why Russell knew to be in front of the post office at exactly 15:03 (UTC–4) on a Tuesday.

Colter snorted a laugh. “What? C’mon, that can’t be the plan… Do you know how many people live in Falls Church? Or in the general Washington metropolitan area? We could be here for days. Weeks even…” The younger Shaw then switched fully into work mode, grabbing his phone from the Bluetooth car mount. “We’re never gonna find her like this. You got a phone number, maybe?” But before Russell could answer, Colter replied himself, shaking his head at his own silliness. “What am I even asking? Of course you don’t.”

Russell only smirked at that. Restless, he thought again.

“What about an old one? Maybe even that would help. I could call Bobby, Reenie… You got anything? Nothing?” But the younger Shaw’s questions apparently stumbled upon deaf ears. “Russell? Russ? Are you even listening to me? I’m trying to help you here. You could at least–”

“Found her!”

Russell almost jumped out of the car as his voice rang with sheer excitement. His heart was beating a mile a minute when his emerald eyes landed on the target. It felt like the very first time all over again.

Granted, the first meeting didn’t go so smoothly – there had definitely been some bumps (all on his part). Then again, he expected this next meeting to go a little roughly too (again, all on him).

“Wait, what?!”

Russell downright beamed. “Told you this would work.”

Colter only scoffed under his breath, the familiar competitiveness crawling back to the surface. “Yeah, well, beginner’s luck, okay?”

One boot had nearly touched asphalt before Russell remembered this wasn’t a situation that required him to storm in guns a-blazing – not even covert. Gentle hands, he reminded himself and swiftly closed the car door again, falling back into his seat. His lungs deflated.

Colter, on the other hand, was more confused than ever. “What-, uh, what are you doing?” Half-amused, his brow furrowed a bit more. “If you’ve found her, go talk to her. Where is she? Who is it?”

Curiosity could only be contained for so long. Colter wanted to know who had been a part of his brother’s life for almost as long as he had. He felt this was a key piece of information that would cause the first domino to fall. And then, revelation after revelation about Russell’s past would unravel.

Basically, Colter was waiting for the big epiphany. No pressure.

Russell vehemently shook his head. “Can’t. At least not like this. I need more intel first. You need to find out her name, and then we need your guy Bobby to get onto this.”

And yet again, guess what? Yes, Russell was, indeed, omitting things.

“Me? Why me?” Colter blinked at him. Surprise, surprise…

“‘Cause, obviously, she’d recognize me,” Russell pointed out. Again, omission. Like he had explained earlier, it was a real problem…

Colter exhaled a deep sigh. “Okay, and I’m guessing you’re still not gonna tell me why we’re doing all of this, right?”

“Nope.”

“Yup, thought so.” Still not convinced, Colter narrowed his eyes at his clearly paranoid brother. Maybe paranoia ran in the family. Not to point fingers – he recognized it in himself, too. “Do we really need to go through all that trouble? I mean, you’ve known that woman for, what, fourteen years, you said? Isn’t that a little extreme… even for you?”

Fifteen, Russell corrected in his mind. Close to sixteen. Nineteen max.

“Just trust me, okay? It’s necessary,” Russell reassured, knowing those words bore some weight. Hurriedly (he was getting antsy – this was a time-sensitive issue), he pointed a finger out the window to the sidewalk across the street. “You see that woman walking into the post office? That’s her.”

“What, the brunette in the flowery dress with the golden cross necklace? That’s her?”

“Yup.”

“Wow, okay…” Surprised didn’t come close to explain how Colter felt. He had expected… different. His brow almost met his hairline, but he still tried his best to conceal his wonder – to no avail.

Suspiciously, Russell leaned back in his seat and assessed his brother’s demeanor with a small glare. “What?”

“Nothing.” Colter threw his hands up in surrender, swallowing. “Just… She doesn’t really seem like your type.”

Amused, Russell stifled a chuckle. “And what exactly do you think is my type, little brother?”

“I don’t know…”

“What, you think some nice Christian girl is too good for me?” Russell deadpanned. Admittedly, he enjoyed bantering with his little brother. It reminded him of what he had missed out on for years. This was what he had wanted and longed for since he had left the family at eighteen.

Well, “left” wasn’t really the right word for it now, was it? It implied a voluntary act, and his leaving wasn’t so voluntary.

“That is exactly what I’m saying,” Colter countered, laughing. “It’s just, you know… dental hygienist in a motel hot tub springs to mind.”

“Okay, alright… You done?” Russell huffed, shaking his head. He refrained from showing his honest amusement. “You’re gonna follow her in or not?”

“Alright, I’ll go,” Colter finally agreed somewhat enthusiastically and jumped out of the car, swiftly following the woman inside. After all, he was curiouser and curiouser…

Russell kept his eyes trained on his younger brother until Colter vanished inside the post office. Now, it was out of his hands, only hoping his little brother wouldn’t blow it. Chances were high he would. Not that Russell didn’t have some faith.

He just had more faith in you.

Colter spotted you picking up mail from a PO box and decided on a plan of action in a matter of seconds. After all, he was quick thinking on his feet and the best at what he did. That’s why he was here. That’s why Russell had picked him for the job, right?

As you made your way back to the door, Colter eloquently intercepted you without disturbing the crowd. Another thing he had learned from his father.

He bumped straight into your shoulder and almost tackled you to the ground by the sheer force of his sneak attack. The mail in your hands scattered to the tiled floor like autumn leaves, and as Colter bent down to help you pick it up, he took a peek at your name on a postcard.

“Oh my God, would you look at that… I’m so sorry, Miss–,” the younger Shaw apologized clumsily, “Nora Laurier.” He uttered your name with a suave smile as he handed you back your pile of letters. The flirt in his eyes, however, he only added for Russell as revenge for Reenie. “Beautiful name.”

Your hands lingered on the letters between you for a moment as you took in his features and tall stature. It left you with a strange haunting of familiarity.

“Thank you,” you finally said with a hint of a smile as he let go of the mail. “Be more careful next time.”

“I will. Sorry again.” Colter chuckled with blushed cheeks and watched you leave. He waited till you had passed the row of windows before exiting himself.

He was a good actor, too.

Antsy, Russell almost bit his lip bloody as he stared the post office down till a migraine began to form. God, what he wouldn’t pay for some X-ray vision and super-hearing. He could be downright Superman with that – and the hero always got the girl.

His heart dithered anew with longing as you walked out – it took his breath away. You always did that, and you did it well. But then, you stopped short for a mere second, which wouldn’t have caused a civilian to raise a single brow. But Russell did.

“Shit…” he mumbled in the silence of the truck and lowered himself down to the dashboard. He watched you reach for your phone in your purse and call someone as you headed down the street.

Eventually, you stopped three houses east and finished your call in the shade of a tree next to a busy (and noisy) bus station. Russell caught your eyes drifting back to the doors of the post office, though, just as his little brother walked out and jogged towards the car.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Russell ducked even further down, hitting his head in several places. “What did that knucklehead do?”

The driver’s door opened as Colter casually slipped inside. “Got a name,” he announced victoriously. Part of his happiness emanated from gathering yet another puzzle piece of his mysterious brother – meeting you. “She goes by Nora Laurier now… And she seems nice. Way too nice for you, actually…” As he drifted off, his eyes searched for the elder one before finding him almost kissing the floor mat. “Russ, uh… What-, uh, what are you doing down there?”

“What the hell did you do?” Russell’s tone was both snappy and frustrated.

“Whoa, what d’you mean what did I do?” Colter waved off defensively. “I did what you told me to do!”

“She made you!”

“She did not make me,” Colter brushed off with a laugh, quite confident of his own skill set. They’d had the same teacher. He would know if you had suspected anything.

“Then why did she wait and look after you, huh?” Russell pointed out in annoyance.

Colter’s lips itched to break a smile. He couldn’t help it. It was the perfect opportunity to teach his flirt of a brother a well-needed lesson. “Well, maybe I caught her eye… piqued her interest, you know?”

Russell cocked a brow from below, his stare lethal. “Did you flirt with her?”

Colter hesitated for a moment. Mostly for dramatic effect. “I-, uh… You told me to get her name. ‘Sides, I told you Reenie was off limits.”

“Oh, so this is about revenge? Very mature.” Russell frowned. “She still there?”

“Where?” Colter stretched himself a bit as he looked out the windshield.

“Tree. Bus station.”

An amused smile formed on Colter’s lips as he spotted you. “Oh, yeah. I see her. I don’t think she suspects anything. She’s not even loo-… No, uh, wait… Yup.”

“What?” Russell’s brows drew together as he rose a little from his crouched position.

“Yeah, she’s definitely looking over here.”

“Well, stop looking down,” Russell hissed through gritted teeth. After a deep breath, he spoke in a calmer, more advising tone, “Pretend I’m not here.”

“Trying to, trust me… Should I wave at her? Smile?”

“Are you nuts?! Just look ahead. Pretend you’re getting a phone call.”

Colter did as he was told and held his phone to his ear. “She’s still looking,” he informed with a pressed smile, barely moving his mouth when he spoke.

“Okay, what’s she doing now?”

“There’s a-, uh, there’s a car coming and pulling over by the bus station. Dark gray Audi A6. Virginia Plates. Yankee-Papa-Charlie-5824,” Colter said as Russell hauled a pen from his pocket and began to jot down the plate numbers on his left palm.

“Copy that.”

He’d memorize them anyway, but one could never be too safe. He could get a concussion in the next hour or so (most likely because of you), and then what?

“Okay, she’s getting in,” Colter narrated. “Driver’s in his late-thirties. Male. Glasses. Medium height. Medium build… I think you could take him,” he added with a teasing grin.

“Shut up,” Russell retorted. “Are they gone now?”

“Pulling away from the curb and… Yep, they’re gone. Headed south down the road,” Colter affirmed.

“Alright.” Russell popped back into his seat with a sigh and some sore muscles. He had been sure he’d heard a few bones crack while he’d been cowering down there. He might be finally getting too old for these missions. But that was part of the reason why he was here in the first place – retirement was calling. And Russell wanted to fill the chair next to him on the porch.

“You good?” Colter checked and choked the small laugh that wanted to escape upon the ruffled sight of his older brother.

“Yeah, go ahead and follow them. Just keep a low profile,” Russell instructed. “On our way, you might wanna call your op analyst, too. See what he can find out.”

“Alright,” Colter agreed somewhat reluctantly but still tailed the sedan. “You sure this is a good idea?”

“What d’you mean?” Russell said mindlessly, keeping his eyes focused on the target vehicle.

“Us… stalking your ex-girlfriend?” Colter noted with a cocked brow. “And her potentially new boyfriend?”

Russell only laughed at that. “We’re good. Trust me.”

Admittedly, though, a small part of him wondered (and worried) if this was all real. Maybe Nora Laurier wasn’t your real name, but it might be your actual new one – one you’d adopted as a safety precaution after you’d left it all behind. Maybe you had finally done it and retired, found a perfectly normal guy, and settled down – just without him.

Or:

Maybe you were still in the game, after all.

Russell was hoping it was the latter. Otherwise, he could probably expect a hefty restraining order in his future, but he wasn’t about to tell Colter that. Not until he knew for sure.

The Audi parked in front of an organic grocery store a few blocks down. Colter chose a spot across the parking lot, keeping a reasonable distance with the perfect view. Russell watched as you and Unnamed Man #1 sauntered into the store, an arm slung tightly around your waist and a smile on your face.

While on the phone with Bobby, Colter could tell that the sight of you in another man’s arms stung. “Okay, uh, thanks, Bobby.”

“What’d he say?” Russell fired as soon as Colter had removed the phone even just an inch from his ear.

“Uh, well, there’s some bad news,” Colter revealed hesitantly and licked his lips, not knowing how he was supposed to break his brother’s heart. “Bobby ran the plate number through the DMV. It’s registered to an Aiden Laurier.”

“Laurier?” Undeniably, Russell’s heart flinched at the connection. “Maybe a brother. Cousin…”

Or a colleague, Russell’s mind stubbornly added.

Colter bit his lower lip hard before he spoke, “They’ve been married for two years. I’m sorry, Russ.”

A hand comfortingly patted Russell’s shoulder. A part of him wanted to scream heavenward, but something else inside was gnawing on him.

He clicked his tongue. “No… No.” Sure, one could argue that denial was always the first step of grief. “No. No way she married sweater-vest John Mulaney over there.”

“I’m pretty sure she did. Bobby sent me the marriage certificate,” Colter countered and showed him the screenshot on his phone.

Russell glanced at it for a short second, not even bothering to waste more time on fake news. He shook his head. He knew better.

“Nah. I’m not buying it. You need to go in there and tell me what you see.” He sealed his words with an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

Colter exhaled deeply. “Russ, I-, uh, I think you need to let this go, man. You’re starting to… Never mind.”

“No. Go ahead. Say it,” Russell prompted with some thunder in his voice. “I’m reminding you of Dad, don’t I?”

Colter only twitched his shoulders. “I mean, yeah. A little.”

Russell’s head bobbed in thought before he met his little brother’s eyes. “You really don’t see it?”

“See what?”

“The post office, the road crew over there, the-, the fake documents?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“C’mon… Just think about everything Dad taught us, huh?”

Was Colter really not getting it? Russell found that quite hard to believe. He had known his little brother to be as sharp as a whip. While Russell didn’t always have the nicest things to say about their father, he could admit the old man had prepared them well for life. Well, one life at least. This one.

The nomad life, the odd jobs that required them to have a particular set of skills like Liam Neeson.

Colter shook his head. “I have no clue what you’re talking about, Russell.”

Russell let out a sigh and leaned back in his seat. “Alright, if you don’t see it, you don’t see it.” A smirk twitched in the corners of his lips. “It’s your funeral, brother…”

With narrowed eyes, Colter pursed his lips. “Alright, just tell me one thing, okay?”

“You know I can’t tell you anything,” Russell reiterated and brushed his beard.

“I know. I know… It’s not that kinda question,” the younger Shaw reassured.

“Go ahead,” Russell relented and curiously looked at his brother.

Within a second, Russell could think of a million questions Colter might want to ask him, but this hadn’t been one of them:

“In the past three years, how many times have you thought about her? And I don’t just mean ‘crossed your mind’ every couple of months. I mean ‘seriously thought’ about her?”

“Hmm.” Russell pondered for a moment before replying, “Every damn day.”

It wasn’t a lie, no omission of anything, and Colter could tell. You were the first thought that popped into Russell’s still groggy mind when he woke up and the last one every night that fluttered across his weary eyelids. Obviously, he didn’t give Colter the soppy answer, though.

“Fine. I’ll go,” Colter softened his stance. “You owe me,” he added with a pointed finger before setting foot outside the car.

“I do owe you. Anything you want, brother,” Russell agreed with a broad grin. “How about we start with a full case of my homebrew, huh?”

Colter danced gracefully through the aisles, spying through canned goods and boxes of cereal. He watched you carefully select fruit with your husband, move through the dairy talking about “organic” and “locally sourced” till you landed on a few choices of toothpaste and finally strolled to the cash register.

Everything seemed boringly normal and ordinary. You chatted with the cashier. They handed you a coupon, which you slipped into your purse. Your husband paid with his credit card (which carried the same name matching the DMV records), and both of you left the store with two paper bags in your arms.

Once through the sliding glass doors, you stopped and turned to your husband. “Darn, honey, I think we forgot the milk.”

“You want me to grab it?”

“No, I’ll do it.”

“Okay, I’ll wait by the car and load the rest of the groceries.”

Now, Colter found that odd. He had watched you spent at least five minutes in the dairy aisle. How could you forget something as basic as milk?

As you hushed inside, your husband sauntered back to the car, and Colter followed you back in. You passed right by the dairy and, with a few looks that resembled a scan of your surroundings, you slipped past the door that led to the restrooms.

Waiting a beat, Colter went in after you. But you were long gone – just not to the restroom. An ‘Employee Only’ door that led to a dumpster alley outside was just falling shut.

Granted, Colter had a bad feeling about this. It was the same feeling he always got shortly before walking into a trap. In his defense, though, you were not a seven-foot-tall, 300-pound kind of guy. He wasn’t about to be ambushed by Shaquille O’Neal, which is probably why Colter didn’t find it necessary to pull his gun.

In hindsight, he should have.

The narrow alley was quiet and empty, except for some trash littering the ground around the dumpsters. It was closed-off, too, wedged between buildings with no view to the parking lot or nearby streets.

And then, something hit him. Or better yet: You hit him. With an elbow to the face and a stiff, flat palm to his throat, Colter stumbled forward before you gave him the final blow and knocked him off balance, tackling him to the ground.

Pressing his cheek into the rough and unforgiving surface of the asphalt, you jumped on him and restrained his arms tightly behind his back. While he squirmed to get out of your hold, he didn’t use as much brutal force as you expected he would.

“Shit,” he muttered below you, his voice muffled by the gravel. A light chuckle escaped him. “Okay, you got me.”

“Sounds about right,” you agreed with a smirk and tightened your grip on his arm.

Then, Colter heard a gun click above him. Hoping to see his brother, he looked up – only to find your husband with a weapon in hand as he stared down the barrel.

“Ah, I think you broke my nose,” the younger Shaw mumbled with a groan.

“Good. You’ve been following me. Why?” you prompted sternly. “Who are you? Who are you working for? Jafari? Mueller?”

“Listen, I-I think you’ve got the wrong idea. I’m not who you think I am,” Colter argued with a strained voice. What the hell had Russell gotten him into? “This is just a big misunderstanding.”

“Uh-huh.” You could only roll your eyes at that. How many times had you heard that line before?

“Let’s hood him. Get him to the Market,” your partner suggested. “We’ll see if he talks then.”

“No, really,” Colter insisted, growing a bit more uneasy. He had no idea what the Market was, but it didn’t sound pleasant. “You know my brother.”

“Who’s your brother?” With your elbow, you put more pressure on his back.

“Ow, alright…” Colter groaned once more as the pain intensified. “Looks kinda like me. Think two decades younger. He was in the Army, so probably didn’t have long hair and a beard. Uh, kind… green eyes? No? Doesn’t ring a bell?”

Colter watched your brow furrow in his periphery as he squinted upwards. He could see the gears starting to turn in your head. You just needed one final push to put all the puzzle pieces together.

“If it helps, my name is Colter. Colter Sh–”

“Shaw,” you shot like a missile. Your jaw plummeted to the ground, your heart springing right out with it. Your grip on the man caught between your thighs loosened, hearing Colter’s sigh of relief before you heard his voice.

“Hiya, sweetheart.”

Your head darted up, the man beneath you long forgotten. You swallowed as your eyes landed on an all too familiar face – even when it was covered by a bunch of hair that had never been there before. The heart-crushing smile was still the same as if it had been ripped straight from an old photograph you had of him.

“Russell?!”

Part 2: This Is a Russell Mission

Quite the entrance! Writing Russell reminded me somewhat of Plastic Hearts Dean (minus the addiction problems unless you count lying) because of all the wild overthinking 😂

If you enjoyed this story, then I'll gladly keep working on its prequel. Was a bit nervous to post this since I filled in some family history gaps myself 😅 I also dove into the books a little and added some things that kinda fit their "show" personalities.

Please let me know what you think and if you'd be interested in a young soldier!Russell series 😉🤍

TAGS:

Forevers: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

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@deansimpalababy

[winter-spark]

Why I started both rewrites back to back, idk. But now I'm having a hard time focusing on one at a time. Maybe I should start rewriting the Apartments one or try to come up w/ a new one altogether... 🤔

[mechazushi]

Heart-To-Heart {A Kaiju Number 8 Short story.}

[Warning: Major Character Death] [Warning: Depictions of Gore]

It was a long drive back to the First Division base. It felt even longer since you could feel everyone collectively reeling from the news. It hadn't hit the front-liners just yet. The higher ups were waiting to see just how many were going to come back from the fight alive first. Mina and Soshiro couldn't bring themselves to tell Reno or Kikoru just yet either. They knew something was off when they rushed their friend into an armored truck as soon as the dust settled. They were just going to have to writhe in a lack of understanding for a little while longer. At least, just until the captain and vice captain could get a better understanding of what Kafka; or, they guess in this new situation, Kaiju Number 8, was now.

"You seem to have developed a new staring problem." Hoshina observed bitterly.

Him and his captain were riding in the back of a mostly empty armored box truck. Other than them, there was what was to be assumed to be what remained of Kafka. That being just... the kaiju itself. It wasn't clear what had happened to Kafka after the end of the fight, but that's why they were in here. Although, neither of them felt like getting a head start on questioning.

"Apologies. It's just... you, remind us... of someone. Someone... we miss." Kaiju Number 8 spoke as it cocked its head to the side, it's sight not leaving the commander's face.

It was strapped to a metal chair again, similar to the one they had placed their friend in three months prior. It's voice wasn't the same as Kafka's anymore. Even when Kafka was in his Kaiju form, you could still hear it and tell it was still Kafka, even if it had developed a deeper tone and a rolling grumble. Now... there was nothing of that jolly voice left. It sounded more like listening to a stadium of people talking in unison behind a closed door. It was almost hard to listen too... in more ways than one.

"We? All I see is the one knucklehead." Hoshina retaliated, his voice unchanging. A brief pause was filled with a low, clicking growl. Almost like thunder rolling over mountains.

"Was that a purr? He fucking purrs now?" Hoshina thought as he continued to return the stare down the Kaiju was giving back.

"Looks like... we, won't miss... him... for much... longer." Kaiju Number 8 said with an uncanny level of hope in its voice. It was an odd sight watching the kaiju speak. It moved its mouth like it was talking, but the movement didn't match the words themselves.

"We. You keep saying we. Why is that?." Mina spoke up for the first time since they entered the vehicle. They watched the kaiju as it took its time coming up with an answer.

"We are... gone. All gone. We are now... shame. Regret... Fear. Rage...Revenge." Kaiju Number 8 said cryptically.

"Well, that wasn't exactly helpful." Mina thought.

"Revenge? Against what?" Hoshina questioned on his turn.

"To finish... what we started. To kill... Kill all Kaiju." It said as it's voice became more threatening, dropping in tone and developing a deeper growl.

A harsh, wheezing laugh came from the vice captain as he got up to walk around the container.

"Great. The damn thing's turned you worse than a mindless, killing dog." He muttered to himself as he was turned away from both of them.

"Hoshina." Mina said with a warning tone, having heard what he had said very clearly.

"Oh, don't act like you're being okay about this! How is anyone going to be okay about this? How's he okay about this?" Hoshina suddenly became very shrill and his movements became exaggerated despite him still feeling the toll the back-to-back fights had put on him, "This is Kafka we're talking about! Or, well, at least it was Kafka."

"Our host... is still here." the kaiju interrupted, "He has joined... the others." There was a weighty pause as the information settled into the commanders.

"Is there... a way to bring him back?" Mina cautiously questioned, trying to not let her hope betray her tone.

"He was presented... a choice. To heal his own heart... and walk away. Or to let it become... our new core." It spoke longer now, gaining speed as well as confidence while it acclimated to it's new state. That harsh laugh rang out again from Hoshina's bruised lips as he tried to not shake his head at the absurdity.

"Why am I not surprised. Ohhh, I should have seen this coming." He sighed as he gently rubbed his face, "He didn't have to do any of this. I had that fight handled." the vice captain continued to mutter as he paced the metal box. This earned a disappointed look from his captain and a curious head tilt from the strapped down Kaiju.

"Oh, don't give me that look." Hoshina said quickly.

"You said he's... that Kafka is still around. Do you think that... it's possible he can hear us?" Mina continued to question cautiously, her heart quietly grasping at any straws that Kafka could have a chance. A chance to understand, to come back to them, or anything that would assuage the pain she felt in her chest, she didn't know.

"He can... He is." the Kaiju answered. Mina tried to prepare a statement, something that could have be reassuring to the both of them at the moment, but the words were killed on her tongue as Hoshina stomped over to their altered friend and slapped a hand on one of the metal arm cuffs while he rudely pointed his finger at it's chest.

"Good. Then that self-sacrificing, one-percent lump of dead weight can hear in great detail about how I'm going to jump down your throat and drag his hairy ass back into the sunlight the second the option seems viable." Hoshina was growling and practically frothing at the mouth by the time he finished his tirade. He took a deep and shuddering breath as he stared the unflinching Kaiju down before calmly turning his head to side-eye his captain.

"You've picked one hell of a friend, captain." he said, his tone unfortunately still harboring misplaced resentment. Mina's normally unflinching face cracked as her brows furrowed and her lips pinched as she got up from her seat.

"You're the one that wanted him on the force." her voice was dark and deceptively even as Hoshina rose to meet her eyes.

"You might want to rethink your tone, captain." He said, trying not to spit it back in her face. The tension in the air pulled tighter and tighter behind the sound of the road noise, only to be cut short as the Kaiju in the room spoke up.

"Kafka... Were you and Kafka... friends?" It asked softly. The two of them turned to face it with puzzled expressions.

"Did having him melt into your little hive mind not already clue you in to that?" Hoshina scoffed.

"It did." The kaiju answered.

"Then why ask?" Mina questioned slowly, becoming deeply curious as well as a little worried for the answer.

"He felt he had... lost the honor." it said as it's white pupils flicked away sympathetically, "He had... broken his promise."

Hoshina shook his head a little at the answer, not understanding completely what that would mean to Mina. He was already aware at this point that her and Kafka were childhood friends, but without any deeper knowledge as to what that friendship meant to each other, he just felt left out of the loop. What ended up grabbing his attention was a shallow, rattling breathing next to him. He turned to look at his captain and saw an emerging and disheartening marvel. Mina seemed to be on the verge of tears. Lips quivering and tears threatening to spill from her shocked eyes.

"Hadn't he?" the kaiju asked, tilting it's head again.

The final nail in the coffin it seemed. Mina spun around on her heels and sprinted to the container's reinforced doors as she put her finger up to her ear comm.

"Stop the vehicle." She commanded, her voice not betraying an ounce of what she felt at the time.

A brief pause was held before she commanded again, this time screaming the order into the comm. Hoshina quickly widened his stance against the force of the truck breaking suddenly.

"Mina?" Her voice captain called out as he watched the back doors fly open and his captain hop down and out of the vehicle.

He tried to rush forward and catch up to her, only for the doors to be slammed back in his face before he could leave. He banged his fist on the metal for a moment, hoping for someone to open them back up. All he felt was the truck rumbling back to life and continuing down the road. He shook his head in disbelief and concern, not knowing why his captain reacted like that.

"Do you believe... that this is not a good price... to pay?" that infinitely echoing voice rang out from the back of the truck.

"What?" Hoshina spat, not understanding the question.

"You continue to fight against... what has already been decided. Do you think that... this form... was not a good price... to pay?" It spoke slowly, not in intentional mockery, to be sure, but it felt like it to Hoshina.

"Pay? Pay for what?" he shouted back.

"No more lost lives... No more shattered families... No more broken promises." It spoke, leaving the idea open ended. It didn't need to expand further anyway. Hoshina got the idea pretty well as he calmed down.

The only thing worse than a predictable friend, was knowing how predictable you were yourself. Because Hoshina asked himself the same hypothetical question and found himself coming to the same answer. A heart for a core... a thousand times over.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

"Epidermis breached. Eight, you're up!" Soshiro called as he leapt back from the entry wound he caused in their newest threat.

Some sort of bastard child of the Meraki Kaiju a year earlier. It hadn't developed Number Nine's shape shifting abilities or possessed any way of speaking, but it damn sure inherited its intelligence. Emerging without warning in the northern part of Japan, it made it clear it still had an ax to grind. A writhing mass of acidic smelling meat, tentacles, and eyeballs, it looked the part to start a spaghetti monster themed cult.

Kaiju Number Eight made a mad dash from the sidelines, focusing solely on getting to the gaping wound the Vice Captain had started. Getting to the weeping slash, it pried the edges of it apart with as much force as it could muster, sending violent arterial sprays of acid around, over, and behind it. From then, it was just a fury of movement. Strong claws ripping and yanking large chunks of hazardous flesh from the threatening mass of black and sending it away from them so it could dig ever further to its center. An example of perfectly honed equilibrium comprised of streamlined intent and raw berserker rage. A flicker of bright, webbed strings of multi-colored light let it know that its destination had been reached. Quickly scrapping the muscle around the core, the Kaiju noticed that the monster had picked up another thing from its progenitor; a hard-light barrier around the core.

"Core two of three located. Beginning demolition." Eight called out loud enough to be picked up by its custom ear comm.

"Core sighting confirmed. Begin neutralization." Okonogi had said on the other end of the link.

It reared back its fist as it felt the thruster tubes in its forearm slide out and into position. It waited for the jets to build up sufficient pressure before letting it send its fist rocketing forward to the shield with each punch.

First hit.

Second hit.

Third hit. Shields gone.

Fourth hit.

Fifth hit. Core shattered.

"Energy readings dropped. Core Destroyed! Good work Kaf-I mean, Eight!" Okonogi let out a reserved cheer as she read out the information at her station.

That wasn't the only surprise the monster had in store it seemed. Just as Eight turned to launch itself out of the slowly enclosing wound, a barbed tentacle shot out from behind the broken core and propelled through its chest with enough force to send its body flying out and down the street. When the tentacle stopped moving, Eight's body flew off of it, feeling the barbs rip through its flesh as it tumbled through the air. Eight hit the asphalt, hard. Would have sent any ordinary officer unconscious with a concussion even if they had the suit's shield. It felt itself rolling down the street and over the harsh edge of a curb. With the wind knocked out of it's lungs and the very obvious sign that it's blood was pouring out from its chest, it made the now monumental effort to prop itself against a solid surface and take a mental rundown of the damage. Bringing a clawed hand to its chest, it made the devastating discovery.

"Well... shit."

On the other side of the offending mass of destruction was Mina and Narumi, tag-teaming their attacks to crack the first layer of the Kaiju. Dodging the slashing appendages coming for them left and right, they felt they weren't any closer to breaking its resistant shell. The fight had been going on for so long that the both of them could feel their fortitude percentage dropping with every twitch of muscle. Out of nowhere, Mina saw her vice captain drop from the air in front of them and plunge the sword in his suit's tail to cut a deep gash in the beast top-to-bottom.

"Heard ya'll were having some trouble." Hoshina panted with a bloody and cocky grin.

"Hoshina! You're supposed to watch Eight's back!" Mina yelled as she shifted her cannon's muzzle away from him.

"Kafka got his mission handled. He should be on his way." Hoshina replied as he dashed in a circle around her, dicing up any tentacles shooting out her way.

"About that! Eight's vitals just dropped off the map!" Okonogi cried in panic, watching the screens turn red.

The captain and her vice immediately looked to each other as their faces turned to shock. Okonogi could only watch as she witnessed everyone's vitals go haywire at the news. Mina could just barely bring herself out of her nightmarish thoughts and leveled her cannon at the kaiju's gaping wound, making sure it stayed open a little longer.

"Go to him! Me and the Bowl-cut Bastard can handle this!" Narumi cried as he fought off his own barrage of barbed obstacles.

Mina looked over to her vice as he reassured her with a quick nod before jumping into the fray with Narumi. She whistled hard and loud, calling her faithful tiger to her aid. She leaped onto its back and held on tight while they tracked down their fallen comrade, trying not to think the worst.

Back on the other side, Eight had managed to prop itself against a shockingly still intact dumpster next to one of the few miraculously standing buildings this close to the fight. Black rivulets of blood trailed behind it and stained its path to false safety. A jagged tunnel had been left behind from the tentacle's blow, acting as the main source of agony and fear for its health. This kind of an injury wouldn't normally be a problem, even the acid melting away at his chest wouldn't have raised any concern. It's healed from worse before, but not this time. No, this time was a problem as it could feel where the barbs had ripped and shredded its way through its core and the acid making quick work of whatever was left to touch.

Inside the dark, flesh textured walls of their mind, Kafka's presence manifested as a battered and broken soldier. Redder blood leaked from various gashes on his face and body. Dark, angry bruises littered his sore chest and limbs. Outside of the pain, he mostly felt numb. At most, a dull ache in his chest where his heart-turned-core would have been. He turned to one of the other presences in his mindscape, the samurai soldier that held his powers before him, and smiled a weak smile. He couldn't tell if the samurai was as badly battered as he was, but he could tell in the way he held his chest they at least felt the same pain. Kafka chuckled raspingly as he turned and shuffled toward the last being in the brain, the big Kaiju bug that held all the power, and painfully shambled his way over to it.

"So... Was that a damn good last run or what?" Kafka playfully mocked as he carefully settled himself to the floor, leaning back against the equally battered Kaiju bug.

"No... We're not finished. We have to finish the fight!" The samurai shouted wheeling around to Kafka, still clutching his chest.

"Can't do that if there's no more fight left in us, Papaw. Face it... We're fucked." Kafka panted from the pain as it spread more viciously and his muscles released its tension.

"How dare you call yourself an officer! There are still lives on the line back there!" the samurai angrily shouted at him.

"AND HOW DO YOU EXPECT US TO CONTINUE WITHOUT ANOTHER FUCKIN' CORE, HUH?" Kafka screamed back with more rage than the samurai could ever express.

There was a lot of words that both of them wanted to say, things to be said in anger and fear, in hopelessness and tiredness. But they were getting tired themselves, feeling the energy being sapped from their muscles and the warmth being leached at the same rate as their blood. There was no denying that this... this was it. No more hearts for cores, no second chances, no turning back the clock. Kafka never got to feel what it was like to be by Mina's side. The Samurai won't get to see other people live a life without fear from otherworldly threats. The kaiju that made all this possible will never know what a quiet mind could have felt like.

"But we got close though, didn't we?" Kafka softly begged, "Tell me we got close, Papaw."

The samurai looked down for a moment, seeming to think his response over, before looking away entirely.

"Even if one fails to reach the moon, one still lies among the stars." He finally said, still not looking back.

Kafka gave a soft smile in return, leaning his head back as his head grew heavy with a lead-like feeling. He knew he didn't mean it, but appreciated the effort anyway.

"And not a night sky to be seen." Kafka muttered to himself as the dark started to overtake his sight.

Something in the back of his mind wouldn't let him rest completely, however. He could sense something coming closer and moving in rapidly. He could tell it was a kaiju, but a smaller one giving off an abnormal but familiar signature. Mina's tiger, no doubt bringing its owner along with it.

"Shit. Can't let Mina see us like this." Kafka groaned painfully as he tried to stand both inside and outside the body, "She doesn't need to see this."

The samurai just eyed his mental roommate from the unchanging confines of his mask and made no move to help the struggling Kafka up to his feet. In their mind's eye, they watched as Mina dismounted and bolted forward to their devastatingly injured remains. Her voice was muffled, but they could definitely sense the distress in her tone as she dropped to her knees by their side.

"Oh God! Nonono, KAFKA!" Mina cried as she harshly dropped to her knees beside his still body. She brought up a hand to its chest wanting to slow the profuse bleeding, only to feel the massive opening staying warm through the power of the acid alone. It became all too clear to her that at this moment... that her friend couldn't be salvaged

"Mina... please. You need to go." Eight muttered out as more blood dripped from its teeth.

"No, Kafka, this can't be it! Not like this. I can't lose you again." Mina's eyes rained its tears freely, taking advantage of their privacy to stop holding back in this vulnerable moment.

She could barely hear the sounds of the on going battle in front of them through her wet sniffling and ragged coughing. She held on tight to its chest and shoulder, trying to focus her thoughts away from another time. An earlier time where this had happened before, where she lost the last pieces of her long gone friend. Her cheeks were hot with anguish as she bowed her head against its shoulder, thinking of any and all prayers she could think of. She didn't want this moment to finish and take the last shreds of hope she had with his passing.

Back in the dark passages of their mind, Kafka had only managed to drag himself to his hands and knees as he tried to speak to Mina. He barely had enough strength to keep himself upright, let alone to project his voice out of the confines of his mind. The samurai just stood still as it quietly watched this all go down.

"Mina... Mina I'm so sorry *cough* for everything... I... I know this is going to be hard... but I know that... you can be strong-" Kafka coughed again and almost landed on his face from exhaustion. Planting his trembling arms as firmly as possible underneath him, he tried to look over at the samurai standing next to him.

"For fuck's sake, Papaw! Can you help me up sometime today, please?" He called out as he managed to lean back onto his legs somewhat.

He watched as the samurai continued to ignore him, not even bothering to look his way. As Kafka busied himself with finding the strength within him to push Mina away in any way he could, he missed the telltale sound of a sword being pulled out of its sheath. As Kafka got off of one knee, he felt something hard and sharp push its way through the back of his neck and out of his mouth. He instantly felt all of his limbs going numb in that second and all of his weight being carried by what was shoved through his neck.

As the sword pulled itself back out, Kafka felt warm trickles of his blood start running down the back of his throat. He couldn't swallow the blood into a different direction and could only feel it all sliding right into his lungs, making him choke reflexively. As he fell onto his face, he felt the growing pain from the wound grow from the back of his head and slowly turn into the worst, practically splitting headache he had ever felt before now. Feeling his body twitching from the numbness and his lungs quaking in the fight against being able to breathe, he just laid there and saw his Ancestor flick his sword and clean it on his sleeve before placing it back into the sheath. Had Kafka not been choking on his own blood or had enough feeling in any of his limbs, he would have certainly returned the favor. What happened instead was the feeling of the floor opening up underneath him and dropping him down into that familiar, watery, bottomless pit in their shared conscious, eyes and mind growing darker the further down he drifted.

Back up top, his Ancestor took control of the body and started talking to the grieving Mina.

"Mina..." He called out.

"Kafka? Kafka, are you still with me?" Mina cried out desperately as she continued to hold the body close.

"We need... another heart." He asked, trying to stretch out whatever remaining willpower he had left to finish his request.

"A heart?" Mina questioned in the interlude, slowly gaining control over her tears.

"Yes... Another heart... for another core." He finished, hoping for Mina to understand what he was asking of her.

"A... a heart." Mina reiterated as the request she began to realize what was being asked of her, "I-I can't... I can't ask something like that from anyone..."

"You don't have to ask... If they're not here to question..." He answered, hoping he wouldn't have to spell it out further than that.

Mina's eyes grew wide as the tears threatened to spill over again. He was asking for her to drag over an already dead body? Just to continue fighting? Warning lights went off in her head as this ask dawned on her. Kafka would never ask for something like this, it was too underhanded. But then again... Maybe this wasn't Kafka talking anymore. Maybe Kafka was gone, and it was whoever made Eight was talking now. It had to have been, because Kafka's hate for the Kaijus was never deep enough to warrant this.

Still... some part of Mina refused to give up on him. Even if he wasn't the one talking right now, Eight was all she had left of her friend. Mina was strong, she led the forces, she joined the Division because of Kafka. She had watched him struggle year after year to catch up to her, falling back to square one every time. This Kaiju helped him on his last chance to get his foot in the door, and she hated to admit that it was probably the biggest reason as to how he managed to stay this long.

It wasn't the only reason, however. If the Kaiju helped him physically, his promise to her helped him in every other way. All he wanted was to be by her side, and even after every roadblock and setback and debilitating snag he hit, he got to this moment... this fight, and it was the closest he had ever gotten to fulfilling it. But one can't be expected to carry that kind of fight alone. She knew that well enough after blitzing through the ranks to Captain. At some point, a hand needs to be extended, a branch to hold on to, a sign that this isn't a one sided fight. That someone else wants what they want too, and wants to see that dream realized for them... with them. It took both of her hands to muscle the slackened arm up to her chest and placed the bloodied and acid-stained hand over her own heart.

"Take mine... You can take mine." She said, her voice betrayed no cracks, only a solitary hiccup.

"Mina... no. Anyone else..." The ancestor argued, knowing well enough that this would hurt more than just Mina.

"Well, you're not getting anyone else, goddamnit!" Mina screamed, " I've wanted too damn long for you to be by my side and watching you sacrifice everything on the dotted line, just for it all to stop here! I'm tired of waiting. I'm done waiting."

She placed her head back on its shoulder, waiting for it to decide. She worried that she took too long and that there wasn't any life left within it to finish the task. Eight found enough strength to bring his head over to the top of her's and lightly placed his closed mouth on it. For he had no lips to kiss away her fears, or a voice left to reassure her that everything would be okay. All it could give was a low, throaty rumble as her tears fell down like a storm.

'I'm sorry... for everything.' It thought.

A loud squelching noise was heard in tandem with a dull ache suddenly spreading out in her chest. Mina looked down and could see that Eight's hand had pushed itself through the barriers of her suit and was now being drenched in warm rivers of red blood. Her lungs spasmed irregularly as that dull ache started to feel more and more staticy. As she coughed, she felt a little spurt of blood splatter out of her mouth. Eight waited for her eyes to roll into the back of her head and for her body to grow limp before he sucked her heart out of her chest. Warmth began to travel down its arm and flowed freely into the rest of its body. It shed one lone black tear as the cavity in its chest began to close up.

Soshiro and Narumi's fight with the Daikaiju had gotten only a little further than nowhere in the time that Mina had left them. Soshiro had managed to keep the wound that he had made earlier open and could only stand by and watch as Narumi ventured inside it while slicing his way deeper in. A weighty moment had passed before he saw that back of Narumi's suit being propelled toward him at unbelievable speed. The two of them made contact and were sent flying backwards. Hoshina took his own fair share of damage as he ended up getting abruptly sandwiched between a broken piece of a stone wall and the full weight of Narumi in his numbered suit and weapon.

"Augh! What the hell, Narumi?" Hoshina cried out in pain as he rubbed the back of his head.

"Damn thing must have learned from the last two times we hit its core! It tried to skewer me with a tentacle and launch me backwards. I managed to deflect it with my weapon, but Jesus! That acid stings!" Narumi yelled as he shifted off of Hoshina's lap, trying to use his now ruined jacket to wipe off the rest of the acidic blood from the suit.

Hoshina tried to get back onto his feet, but could only manage to slowly shift himself onto a knee. Bracing himself against the wall, he leveled his one undamaged eye toward the hulking monstrosity before them. He panted heavily as he weighed his options, finding all of them to be far from satisfactory plans to finish this brutal beast once and for all. Still, no one could rest until that thing was put down for good.

"Get up Narumi." Hoshina growled through his pain, "We need to finish this." Narumi just squinted up at him with a question on his mind, before deciding that the smack talk back wasn't worth the effort. As they propped themselves to their feet as best they could, an unearthly voice came over the ear comms.

"Hoshina. Narumi. Stand down and head to safety." the voice commanded with easy authority.

Hoshina peered his head over the chunk of wall first. Off in the distance he saw a slim figure walking towards them. The sound of metal dragging over asphalt matched the sight of the stilted silhouette and its heavy looking object it brought with them. He grabbed Narumi by the shoulder and dragged them both off to the side of the street to hide behind more rubble. Leaning against a shattered chunk of roadblock, Hoshina watched with great interest as the figure got closer and closer. The sound of metal being dragged got replaced with the sound of metal being loudly pried apart, sheets and gears popping and buckling under great pressure. He studied the new arrival as best he could from his distance and made one startling discovery after another.

The being that approached looked almost like Eight and carried Mina's cannon. Only now that cannon had looked like it was caught in a tangle of thick, black, jungle vines that had wound itself into every part of the complex machine. The body that was connected to the cannon looked very different from what he remembered as well. Eight looked taller, leaner, and not as wide. And he certainly knew that Eight didn't have a full head of long black hair.

Narumi watched the new figure as well, but was focused on a very specific part of them. He watched the new kaiju open one set of eyes, then a second set below that, then a third set above them both. It only got stranger as he saw the borders of the eye's sockets stretch and lengthen out to the borders of the other eyes. Once the edges touched, the sides popped open and the eyes melded into each other, forming one long, glowing, teal band extending across the width of its face.

The tentacles on its arm had finished their job of weaving their way through the cannon and lifted the whole mess level with its target, the Kaiju everyone had been fighting. Hoshina watched on in slowly dawning horror as he heard the voice on the comms match to the movement of the teeth on the new Kaiju warrior in front of them.

"All should know better than to be caught in their Captain's line of fire."

Inside the mind of the new beast, Kafka could feel his mind turning on to a sense of alertness. It almost felt like waking up from a paralyzing nightmare. As he blinked his eyes and got them to focus, he tried to recall what had sent him sprawling over the floor in his own mind. His memories slowly worked their way forward from the moment he entered the fray, to when he felt the acidic sting of the tentacle pierce his core. He rolled onto his side and brought up a hand to rub his face, trying to dislodge anything more important or at least relevant. Even moving around in his listless state, he could instantly tell he felt different. His arms didn't feel sore or bruised, his chest had lost its weighty pain that had settled deep in his core. His core. If that had been broken, then how was he still able to think? As Kafka landed on his back and pushed himself up onto his hands, a deep, reverberating thump rattled in his chest as more recent memories started to crop up.

The fight. The killing shot. Crawling away to hide his shameful death. Mina... Oh gods, Mina! She found him, and... and... His Ancestor, the samurai. What did he do to him? Kafka felt his chest tighten as his breathing became labored and ragged, quick puffs of angry air sucking its way past his teeth. He shot up to his feet quickly, the lack of pain making him all the more angry at the thought of his Ancestor committing some atrocity that somehow fixed this. His only reasoning for this being that if it wasn't supposed to be a bad decision, then why bother silencing Kafka at all?

"WHERE ARE YOU?" he screamed out into the vast space of his mind, "FACE ME AND EXPLAIN, YOU COWARD!"

Kafka made a slow turn, viciously eyeing down any shadow in the dark recesses of his mind that could have been his murderer's form. Spying a dark shape off in the distance behind him, he turned and ran toward it, thinking it to be the samurai. As he got closer and closer, it became very clear that this new person wasn't the samurai. His Ancestor didn't have a flowing curtain of black hair, nor did it wear a defense force suit. He slowed down his pace for a second, becoming worried and praying that his mind had just decided to play a cruel joke on him, now of all times.

"Mina?" Kafka hesitantly called out, a thousand prayers for salvation from this fear echoed in his heart.

He watched on in horror as the familiar shade turned to the sound of its name and faced him with shock in her eyes. He picked up speed again, this time not with intent to maim and harm, but to approach this mirage of agony faster with the hopes that he'll just run right through it.

"No. No, no, no, nononono, MINA!" He cried as he got close enough to see that this wasn't a horrible joke, but a nightmare made flesh.

Carelessly plowing right into her, Kafka held her tight as they fell to the softly giving floor. Sobs racked his ribs and shuddered his lungs as he scrambled to his hands and knees. His hands roughly busied themselves with pulling her onto his lap and brushing strands of hair out of her face, chanting that simple word over and over. They slowed as the realization of this, of her physically being in his mind really meant, began to chip away at his already war-torn heart. He could feel himself rocking back and forth, cradling Mina's warm body close to him as he looked into her unbothered expression with his being stained with a flood of tears. He supposed it was him trying to bring comfort to Mina, but as her gentle hand placed itself on his cheek and stroked with her thumb, he knew that this was all to comfort him.

"No, Mina why? Why would you do this? You had to have known, right? I would never ask you to do this, you had to have known that it wasn't me! Why, Mina? You didn't have to do this." He whispered

Kafka could barely get the words out over the snot and bile building up in his throat. His tears soaked his cheeks and fell like rain onto Mina's hand. His face felt like it was on fire as he sniffed hard and tried to clear his throat. Holding her in his hands made any attempt of composure in vain as it just reaffirmed to him that what was done was irreversible. The Third Division lost its captain, but it certainly didn't feel like he had gained back his friend. He tried to restrain his violent sobs as he felt her arms tighten around his neck, pulling his body down over and closer to Mina. His arms tightened in return as he felt the other hand come up to play soothingly in his hair, the other rubbing gentle circles over his spine.

"My heart... was already yours." She whispered into the crook of his thick neck, the vibrations of the words sending small shockwaves through his torso.

All Kafka could bring himself to do was cry. Cry and scream and cry again until his voice became shot and he had no more tears to shed. Hands forever tight around his new heart.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

(Some thoughts I had while writing this that won't fit into tags well)

Real quick, I just wanna mention that this is based off of a recent theory that I developed after reading chapter 118 and its that Kn8' true power isn't that fact that he's a shape shifter, or that he's got super strength or a sonic screech or anything else.

His true power is that he can turn hearts into cores, indirectly making itself partially immortal. (we could be immortals, immortals...)

So I see the end of this story going one of two ways:

One: Once the Third Division finds out what happened, they all come to a mutual agreement that they want their hearts cryogenically frozen after death so that Kaiju Number 8 is forever supplied with back-up cores. This ending kinda gives off this lovecraftian feel where in the future, Kaiju Number 8 stops being considered a Kaiju at some point and is more of an amalgamation of undying spirits that haunt the base forevermore.

Two: Kafka pulls a Hellsing Ultimate Abridged. He fights against Papaw first and then proceeds to fight and kill every soul that inhabits his core, ultimately evicting the collective consciousness that made his powers in the first place and distills it into himself. The only better way I think I can explain this is "Imagine Venom bonding to Eddie and then something happening to Eddie, causing Venom to sort of... recreate Eddie. But it's just Venom, so now it's like if Venom was his own host." Kafka is now Kafka, the parasite, and the Kaiju all at once. (He also somehow figures out a way to spit Mina out into her own body so she's fine.)

He's not a human that can turn into a Kaiju or the other way around. By Legal Definition he is, technically, the first, true, Human Kaiju.

[giallos]

a truly terrible idea has latched hold of my gremlin brain which is, buck and tommy do break up so that buck can pursue eddie because either tommy thinks buck is in love with eddie or buck feels like he should be with eddie because everyone else keeps suggesting there's something more there BUT buck/eddie getting together changes their dynamic so much that neither of them are enjoying themselves (and they're worrying about losing what made their friendship so special because of all the changes to the dynamic) AND buck and tommy keep hooking up [air quotes] platonically (with tommy stumbling into inconvenient feelings and pining pathetically for buck while fucking him) while buck struggles to sort out intense feelings toward eddie (which obviously have to be romantic of course) vs. his calm, more settled feelings toward tommy (they're not as intense as his feelings about eddie so they can't possibly be romantic) blah blah long story slightly less long but buck realizes he's been in love with tommy the whole time and was having trouble separating strong but platonic feelings for eddie from his romantic feelings toward tommy and then tommy's like "newsflash asshole i've been in love with you the whole goddamn time"

i'll never write it because it's irredeemably stupid and i value my peace but it IS sitting in my hindbrain tormenting me right now

[transingthoseformers]

Is the fic you're reading named Violation of Article 3? If so, how prominent is the StarOP? It's a massive NOTP for me, but the fic sounds interesting!

Yeah, the whole fic's title is "Violation of Article 3, Sub-section 3A of the Autobot Code"

StarOp mentioned more than a few times and I'm pretty sure it's important to the story (especially considering the structure of the fic), but I don't know if I'd call it prominent or not because I'm not sure I'd call any of the pairings prominent? A lot of them are presented in this almost snapshot style rather than it being written the way we usually see fics (which? Honestly? I love that. The formatting and emojis and usage of various named apps and sites and technology is fun)

Though I do have to say if it's that big of a NOTP of yours I wouldn't suggest reading it, just as I wouldn't suggest anyone chancing something they consider a big NOTP

[dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3]

I can't say whether this is a good thing or not, but TPWP is now officially the top fic in the Ishimondo tag when you look at the number of hits. 🙏🏻

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

For consideration—

Danny is many things. Student, hero, teenager, tired. Teenager and tired are shared, student is what he wants, and hero is what he has to be.

So when he’s fighting Val—Red Huntress, as dubbed by the general populace—and they get interrupted from their highly dangerous not-quite game of hide and seek by the Justice League offering her all of the training and support any hero could ever want… well.

It’s a good thing he’s already hidden, because he has no idea what to feel and ghost faces are significantly more stretchy and allow for frankly horrifying face journeys. He could just be a kid. He wanted to have mentorship. He wanted Valerie to be a great hero. He hopes she’s not getting dragged into it. He’s been given an out, possibly.

Or at the least, as Jazz would put in during the video call later that night, he could take a vacation.

Her reasons were fairly pure. He overworked himself by necessity, and he deserved time and rest and the ability to go for his own hobbies.

Danny’s were very much in the petty revenge territory. Blob ghost populations would be outright swarms in about two weeks, and that’s if the ectopi didn’t start hunting them as prey, sending them into a tizzy. Any bigger threats—well. Red Huntress was the hero, the only hero, as Superman said in his little ‘join us’ speech. Clearly, she’d been handling it so far. She’d be fine. There was even Justice League backing and support for her.

He still hid during ghost attacks. Everyone always thought he was scared of ghosts anyways and the rogue gallery had no qualms about kidnapping or otherwise targeting him as a regular teen.

Things… quickly spiral.

For Red Huntress, that is.

Suddenly, her new ghost alarm system that Batman helped her build is going off constantly. She expected an uptick, but she’s gotten maybe five hours of sleep in about as many days. It was a good thing that one of the support benefits was a paycheck, because if she hadn’t quit Nasty Burger they certainly would have fired her by then. Her grades were slipping, even with her best efforts, and her mentors who were supposed to help weren’t listening to her.

It wasn’t them ‘challenging her beliefs’ and asking her to ‘really consider if ghosts are always your enemy’ that made her fights suddenly harder. It wasn’t some adjustment period to her new training. There was just ghosts, all the time, constantly, and she didn’t even know what to do with all of them. She always just ran them off, and she had assumed they went home. She hadn’t realized the reason Phantom always captured them was because otherwise they just would not leave.

And Phantom. He was one of her rogues, play acting as hero for people he’d just put into danger. Sometimes he did—kind of—help, but it seemed more coincidental. A giant bobcat in the yard keeping the bears away sort of situation. Still dangerous, still unknown, no matter how similar he looked to something or someone friendly.

But. He’d been MIA since their last fight. And she didn’t know why.

Sure, she could guess that maybe he had heard the whole acceptance into the Junior League, or whatever it was called, that had happened. And with his whole ‘hero’ shtick, he’d maybe be a little weird about it. Not emotional, ghosts didn’t have true emotions. No matter what Black Canary was currently researching on the topic, Valerie was sure of it.

Just like she’d been sure that she was actually helping Amity Park.

If she heard one more property damage assessment, she’d strap one of her ecto guns to the lecturer and let them have a crack at it. Ghosts didn’t care about material things that mattered to other people. They might have attachments to certain types of objects or things they considered ‘theirs’, but if that thing was a living human’s… it didn’t matter, it’d be taken or broken just the same.

Sam was, of course, leading a small protest asking for Phantom’s return. She and Danny had at least three fights about it, and it wasn’t pretty.

Paulina had a different approach to the same issue, asking for recognition of her ghost boy.

Tucker was egging both on, mostly to distract Sam from actually bothering Danny, but also because he loved a good cat fight.

Danny was getting so much sleep, and he’s getting caught up in school. Sure, the school is usually at least a little on fire these days, but he actually read the assignment book for Lancer’s class. That hadn’t happened like, ever! And his Doom stats were getting pretty high, since the only grinding he had to do now was against virtual enemies that didn’t try to snap his spine… Technus notwithstanding.

As these things usually happen, Valerie blames Phantom for all of her woes, again. The Fenton Parents, being thoroughly exhausted at this point as well, completely back her.

And Danny has had a lot of time to rest and think on the actions of himself and others.

He’s been declared a menace, again. And he’s kind of tired of people not realizing that if he WANTED to be a villain, he could be. He wanted his town safe, and honestly, the ghost populace explosion was getting annoying. Red Huntress’s last “big fight” had nearly killed someone.

… He wouldn’t be Dan, oh no. He wouldn’t cause damage, he’d prevent those from being hurt, and he would generally look at the Hero Guideline Handbook he had… temporarily borrowed and copied from Val’s backpack. He’d be campy and totally not serious to anyone who didn’t realize he actually was just playing around. And him actually taking on ‘big fish’ persona in Amity Park’s ‘little pond’ should help get rid of at least some of the lower level guys.

It’s not like it’s be hard, honestly. He’d get to make his own hours, at least. And since Valerie saw Fenton as someone to protect, someone that he well knew she broke up with to ‘keep him safe’, she wouldn’t think of him twice as being Phantom. Danny wouldn’t use their friendship against her, but he could easily admit that it was a little scummy to do. But. Well. He’d always fought a bit dirty, and she had literally tried to kill him. Multiple times.

If Red Huntress was going to be a villain-like Hero, then it was simple.

Phantom just had to be a hero-like Villain.

Prompt

The justice league FINALLY investigates Amity, and realizes that they’ve made a grave mistake by letting a burgeoning hero shoulder a large problem without any training or support. They rectify this immediately by offering a position in the JL along with an assortment of mentors and other teen heroes to bond with. 

Red Huntress receives this invitation in front of Phantom, while actively trying to hunt him down.

[not-neverland06]

Hey I’m just begging for a fic of Logan with a shy reader that she has a crush on him but thinks he’s never going to fix on her since Jean exists (maybe the reader can make her hair color change depending on the emotion or something

a/n: sorry I haven’t been responding to asks. The new job has officially killed my spirit. But I got to work out finally and do some yoga so hopefully I’ll start feeling more motivated 🤞🤞this one will be shorter

Logan Howlett x X-men!reader (Chameleon)

“Chameleon!” You jump, shoulders flying up to your ears. Almost immediately you can feel the tips of your fingers tingling. Sure enough, when you look down they’re already disappearing. Sighing, you turn around and glare at Scott. 

“What have I told you about scaring me?” 

He grimaces, raising his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I forgot.”

You roll your eyes and turn back toward your project. “Every time,” you mutter bitterly. You’re not an idiot. You know he thinks scaring you is funny. The whole school does. They all like to see you yelp and blend in with the nearest surface, the only thing visible is your stupid hair. 

“You’re, um, turning red.” Scott points to your head and you don’t have to look to know your hair is shifting colors.

You reach over and swat harshly at his arm, “Because you pissed me off! I know you scare me on purpose,” you accuse, jabbing your finger into his chest. He laughs and stumbles away from you. 

“Alright, alright, calm down. I was just messing around a little. Look,” he glances down at the lesson plans before you and sighs. “All this will have to wait. Charles needs us all for a mission.”

You huff and shove the papers into your desk drawer. “Alright, lead the way.” You feel Scott’s eyes still lingering on your hair and glare at him. “Move it, Summers,” you demand. 

You were already in a bad mood, you didn’t need him making it worse. It honestly shouldn’t be such a big deal for you. You get scared by everyone all the time. You used to enjoy it, enjoyed the way it felt like you all had your own joke. But, eventually, it started to feel less like an inside joke and more like you’re the unwitting butt of one. 

Some mutants get amazing powers, like Jean or Charles. Logan’s abilities are incredible, even if he doesn’t believe you when you tell him that. But yours, well, you're better suited as the cheap gimmick of a children’s birthday party than an X-Men. You’re just a walking mood ring that blends in with her environment. 

The only thing you’re good for is reconnaissance missions and embarrassing yourself. You don’t know what Charles sees in you. You’ve never understood why he insists you’re such a good asset to the team. Yes, you are good at spying on people, but you don’t need to when Charles has such strong telepathic abilities. You’re essentially useless in a fight due to a lack of regenerative or strength abilities. 

More often than not you feel like a child playing dress up, chasing after the big kids. You know the others don’t mean anything bad by it when they tease you into going invisible or laugh when your hair changes. It’s all in good fun. But it doesn’t make you feel any less like easy entertainment rather than a teammate. 

It doesn’t help that you’ve got little to no control over your abilities when it comes to Logan. You’ve never had such a horrifically bad crush like this. Anytime he opens his mouth around you, you're fighting off the urge to just go invisible and run away. You feel like you go feral around him. You don’t know how he hasn’t caught onto what the colors of your hair mean when you’re near him. 

It’s constantly switching between some odd mix of red and pink when you talk. Which, you know what it means, but you’re praying no one else does. Red can mean angry, depending on whether you’re talking to Scott or not. You know, though, that with Logan it just means you want to jump his bones and you’re hopelessly in love with him. 

Thankfully, like the others, he associates red with anger. Which isn’t great for you because that just means he thinks every time he opens his mouth you’re pissed off. At yourself, maybe, but at him, never. It just means when he wears those stupid tanktops you want to dig your teeth into his biceps and never let go. 

Scott opens the door to the meeting room and you slide in past him. Charles gives you a brief smile as a greeting. You take the chair at the end of the table, which just happens to be next to Logan - completely coincidental. He gives you a tense smile and you return it stiffly. You tug your hood over your hair, praying he doesn’t notice the red in your strands yet. You don’t want him to think you hate him. You completely prefer that over him knowing how feral you are for him, but it’s not conducive to your slow plan to finally get him to acknowledge you as a sexual partner. 

You swear, if your name isn’t Jean Grey, you might as well just be a shapeless blob of nothing. He glances over at her, that smoldering look in his eyes, and you try not to throw up in your mouth. Scott wraps an arm around Jean’s shoulders and they break their lingering stares. 

Logan glances over at you and catches the glare on your face before you can get rid of it. He huffs and turns towards Charles. With a sigh, you sink back into your chair and focus on not just going invisible. 

“Chameleon,” Charles says your name and your eyes widen. You wonder how much you’ve missed while you’ve been glaring at the back of Jean’s head. “Does that sound alright with you?”

You look around the table for help but they’re all staring expectantly at you. “Sure,” you stumble over the word, racking your brain for any answers. It seems not even your subconscious was paying attention to Charles droning on. “Sounds great.” He gives you a satisfied nod. 

“Good. Off to the jet, all of you.” he rolls out of the room and you wait until he’s out of earshot to kick Logan under the table. 

He glances back at you, smirking. “Don’t know what you agreed to?”

You purse your lips and shake your head. “Nope,” he gives you a look like he knew you’d say that. You hate how well he can read you when it feels like you’re constantly hitting walls trying to understand him. 

“You’re scoping a place out for us. Making sure it’s safe so we can retrieve some information.” You give him a thankful look and he chuckles. “You need to start paying attention, kid.”

You groan and get up from your chair, brushing past him. “I told you to quit calling me that.” It makes you feel like that’s all he’ll ever see you as, some kid invited onto the team. You want him to see you as someone he could have sex with, hopefully, love one day. 

He glances past you at Jean. She smiles at him and you fight everything inside you to not roll your eyes and gag at them. She’s holding onto Scott and making fuck me eyes at Logan, which he’s happily returning. This is just too disgusting for you. 

You shove past him and ignore how he calls out your name. Your real name. He’s the only one that uses it. For some reason, most people just refer to you by Chameleon. You don’t understand why. They just don’t seem to think of you outside your abilities as a mutant. 

You make it to the jet before the others, taking the private time to change into your X-Men suit. If there’s one useful thing about your ability, it’s that it affects whatever’s touching you. Which means, you don’t have to strip naked to go completely invisible. And if anyone is around you, all you have to do is hold onto them and they’ll blend in too. 

You’re tugging up the zipper of your top as Logan walks in. He gives you an odd look, sitting on the bench in front of you. “Angry about something?” He asks, gaze darting up to your head. 

You drag your fingers over the ends of your hair and sigh. “No,” you tell him bluntly, taking the seat beside him. 

His brows furrow in confusion. “It’s red, though,” he points out, his tone colored in suspicion. 

You laugh a little, “Red doesn’t always mean angry.” It’s the most you’ve ever confided about your hair colors to him. The largest hint you’ve ever given him that you don’t hate him. You’re worried if he knew how you really felt about him, he’d think you were a little creep. 

He slides his arm behind you on the bench, leaning in until you’re practically sharing the same air. You know your eyes are comically large, you don’t even want to know what color your hair is turning right now. “What else does it mean, kid?” He whispers and you don’t even pay attention to the nickname. All you can see and hear right now is him. How close he is, how close your lips are. 

You could lean forward an inch or two and you’d be kissing. “Um,” you swallow harshly around the lump in your throat. You don’t even know what he asked you, all you can think about now is kissing him. 

“Logan!” Ororo’s voice echoes through the jet and you leap away from him, trying to calm your racing heart. Logan sighs and leans back in his seat, giving Storm a tense smile. She glances at you and laughs, “She’s nearly see-through, what are you doing to her?”

You frown and look down at your hands. Sure enough, you’re going translucent. You let out a silent groan, and tuck your knees into your chest. You take a few deep breaths until you’re one solid form again. It’s so embarrassing when that happens, when you lose control over yourself like that. 

But it’s even worse when Logan does it to you. He gives you hope, stupid, hateful hope, for one minute that he might feel something deeper. Only for it to be another joke. You’re a walking mood ring, nothing more than a quick laugh to all of them. 

Jean walks up the ramp, her gaze going to Logan first before drifting towards you. “Are you alright?” She mutters, trying not to let the others hear. Of course, Logan can, with his stupid enhanced abilities. “You’re turning blue,” she points out and you roll your eyes. 

You can feel Logan’s stare burning holes into the side of your head and it only makes you feel worse. You hate being a joke, but you also hate showing them just how much it affects you. You don’t want to seem like a crybaby that can’t handle a little teasing. But you’d thought coming to Charles’ school meant people would stop poking fun at you. It feels like being dragged right back into high school. 

“I’m fine,” you tell her. She doesn’t look like she believes you but she takes a seat anyway. Of course, placing herself right next to Logan, even though her fiancee is a few feet away from her, looking just as hurt as you. They lean into each other and whisper. They’re not even trying to hide it anymore. You let your glare bore into the floor, ignoring how much seeing them together hurts. 

The mission had gone well, Logan had been hoping to go to the bar and grab a drink with you. But the second his back is towards you, you’re running off the jet. Logan calls out your name, trying to catch up. You glance back at him, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. He smiles at you and your eyes widen. You go invisible and Logan glances around, baffled. 

He calls out your name again but the door ahead of him opens and closes quickly. He can only assume you’ve run away again. You always run away from him. You’re always pissed off at him. He doesn’t know what Jean’s talking about when she says you like him. 

Logan’s never met anyone more repulsed by him. 

“Would you just trust me?” Jean tells him lowly, creeping up behind him. 

His face falls and he turns to her, glaring at her knowing smirk. “She just fuckin’ ran away from me. Pretty sure that’s about as good a hint as I’m gonna get, Jean.”

She glances over her shoulder, waving Scott away and looping her arm through Logan’s. “You’re an idiot, Howlett.” He scoffs and she swats at his shoulder. “Trust me, I can read minds, remember?”

Of course, he knows she’s got some pretty decent telepathic abilities. But he didn’t think she would so brazenly breach your boundaries. There’s an unspoken rule that the mind readers of the school don’t delve into your brain without permission. 

She sees the look on his face and sighs. “I didn’t read her mind. She got drunk a little while ago and told me about her raging crush on you,” she laughs a little at your expense and Logan lets out a short chuckle. You can be a pretty sloppy drunk if they let you go too far. He figures it was one of those girl’s nights he wants nothing to do with. You’d probably let the tight reigns you keep on yourself slip for once. 

“She goes red every time she sees me. I don’t know what else that could mean other than she hates me.” Logan isn’t surprised that you’re not taken with him like he is with you. He’s used to the rejection, but it hurts just a bit more coming from you. You’re so welcoming to the others. 

You embrace every new member of the school with open arms. Yet, with him, you get angry whenever you see him. You see through his walls, see the rot lurking underneath them. And, rightfully, want nothing to do with him. He understands your reasoning. 

Most days he barely wants anything to do with himself. He’s made a lot of bad choices in his life, half of which he can’t remember. But he’d hoped, for one minute, that you might give him a second chance. As much as Jean insists otherwise, he can see the truth of how you feel about him every time you run away. 

“Red doesn’t always mean anger,” Jean tells him elusively. It’s the same thing you’d said to him on the jet. It makes his brows furrow in confusion and he glares at her. 

“What else could it mean?” He demands sharply, sick of her teasing him with the possibility you might feel the same way. 

She bites her lip, looking suddenly sheepish. “I can’t say-”

“Jean,” Logan snaps. He stops her from walking any further, keeping her planted in one spot with him. “Tell me,” he’s sick of the games you’re both playing with him. He just wants some straight fucking answers. How hard is that?

She sighs and looks away from him. “I promised her I wouldn’t tell.”

“And I’m sure you promised you also wouldn’t tell me how she feels about me,” he points out. There’s a sharp tone to his voice, it’s rude but he can’t bother feeling guilty about it. 

She can’t meet his eye, a smirk fighting at the corner of her lips. He waits impatiently for her answer, irritation broiling quickly in his gut. He’s about to snap at her again when she finally meets his eyes. 

She speaks through a laugh, like what she’s about to say is so ridiculous she can’t hold it in. “She wants,” she cuts herself off with another laugh and Logan groans in frustration. He begins to walk away from her when she yells, “She wants to fuck you!” At his back. 

His eyes widen in surprise before he turns back to her with a displeased look. “Are you fuckin’ with me?” He demands, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously. 

She shakes her head and brushes past him. “You didn’t hear it from me,” she warns, tone grave as she leaves the room. 

Logan is left standing in the same spot, stunned at the revelation. He’s not sure how much of that he believes. But he doesn’t understand why Jean would possibly lie to him about this. She gains nothing by setting him up for failure. As much as he doubts the honesty behind her words, he’s got no other choice but to trust them. 

He heads to the most likely place you’re hiding out. Charles has a private library that’s blocked off from the kids. There are too many first editions in there, he can’t risk any of them accidentally blowing them up. You like to head there when you’re trying to avoid people. 

He tries to stay quiet as he walks in, not wanting you to run off again. It’s hard to confront someone who goes invisible whenever she feels like it. He sees light blue hair draped over the back of an armchair. He feels like a creep as he stalks towards you, sneaking and pouncing on you so you can’t run away. 

He can’t imagine how Jean ever thought him approaching you would be a good idea. He whispers your name, trying not to startle you. It doesn’t take a genius to see how much you hate when the others scare you. They might not mean anything bad by it, but they have to be blind not to see how much it pisses you off. 

You still jump, glancing up at him with a surprised look. He looks to your hair for any tells of how you feel. Some pink weaves its way through the stands but it otherwise stays relatively blue. His brows furrow in confusion, he can’t tell if it’s a good or bad sign that there’s no red. 

“How are ya, kid? Ran off pretty quick earlier.” 

“Don’t call me that,” you mutter, giving him a brief glare before staring absently down at the book in your hands. Logan kneels beside your armchair, covering the pages with his hand. You huff, giving him an expectant look. “Yes, Logan?” You demand, tone short.

Logan tilts his head, examining you and your body language. You seem relatively closed off, irritated at him or something else. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s never been good with words or trying to express how he feels. He’s more comfortable showing how much he cares for those around him. 

Throwing caution to the wind, he lets his hand drift to your wrist and tugs you forward. Your eyes widen as he drags you toward him. The kiss is short, he doesn’t want to push you too much. But it takes everything in him to stop himself from deepening it. All he wants is to pull you into his arms and devour you. 

He holds back, parting from you with a low exhale. Your eyes flutter open and he grins when he sees the bright red your hair has turned. “What,” you sputter and stumble over your words. You shove him back and leap to your feet. “What the hell was that?” You demand, voice higher than he’s ever heard of it. “What was that?” You ask him shrilly, again. 

You almost seem to be stuck in a loop, blinking rapidly and asking the same thing. Logan chuckles and gets to his feet, he gives you a knowing look and you narrow your eyes at him in disbelief. 

“Jean told me.”

Your brows furrow and you shake your head. Realization dawns on your face and you gasp, looking up at him with something like horror on your expression. “No,” you tell him lowly. “She didn’t,” it almost sounds like you’re begging him to tell you otherwise. 

He laughs again and your face falls. You start going clear, he can see the bookshelf through your stomach and he sighs. He grabs your hand, holding onto you before you can run again. You don’t even seem to be aware that you’re slowly disappearing from view. 

“She’s, uh,” he struggles to figure out what to say to make you feel better. “She’s been coaching me,” he admits shamefully. “Trying to help me talk to you.”

You glance up at him but he can barely see your expression. The only thing reassuring him you’re here is his grip on you and your voice. “What? But I thought that-” You cut yourself off quickly and Logan glares down at where he thinks your face is. 

“Thought what?”

You take a long pause and exhale deeply. “I thought,” you mutter, “you liked her.”

“She’s with Scott,” he points out bluntly. He can practically hear you roll your eyes, even if he can’t see it. 

“Yeah, I know. But you guys are always whispering to each other and making googly eyes.”

“Googly eyes?” He interrupts, disgust clear in his tone. 

“I was wrong,” you continue, ignoring him. “I see that now, but I thought you didn’t care about me.”

Logan huffs, he hates that you thought that. He should have just been open with you from the start. He’s faced rejection his whole life, he shouldn’t have been so petrified of it just because it could come from you. If he’d just manned up and told you earlier, it would have saved you both a lot of time and hurt. 

“Kid,” he hopes he’s making eye contact with you and not just staring at some random book. It’s really hard to tell when you go invisible like this. “You’re the only person I care about in here.”

You’re quiet for a long while and he worries you’ve somehow slipped away without him realizing. But, ever so slowly, you start coming back into view. Logan awkwardly averts his eyes from your breasts, he’d been hoping he was making eye contact with you, clearly, he was wrong. 

“You mean that?” You ask, and he hates the trepidation in your voice. He’s never been good with words, he doesn’t know how to tell you how much you mean to him. But he can show you. 

His hand drifts up your arm, wrapping around the back of your neck and tugging you towards him. You trip over your feet, hands landing on his chest to stabilize yourself. He leans down, hovering over your lips for a moment. He waits until your eyes drift shut and your lips purse impatiently before he finally kisses you again. 

He doesn’t hold himself back this time. He pours every racing thought he’s ever had about you, every one of his wanted-to-tell-you-how-he-feels-and-hasn’t moments into the kiss. Your hands slowly curl up into his shirt, wrinkling it and tugging him further into you. 

To his surprise, you deepen the kiss, mouth moving over his like you want to devour him whole. He’s sure if he opened his eyes your hair would be a bright roaring red. He smirks against your lips, happy that, for once, he actually listened to Jean. If it gets him results like this, he might have to do it more often. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡ 

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allllium @insomniachox @izbelross  ♡ 

[alsofoundinpeas]

No One's Ever Had Me (Not Like You)

Summary: After JJ's insensitive remarks toward Spencer become too much to ignore, Y/N steps in to comfort him, igniting a friendship that rapidly grows into something more. Though Y/N falls for him first, Spencer soon finds himself falling even harder, realizing no one has ever cared for him the way she does—and he's ready to return it in full.

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Oral/Facesitting (f!receiving), dirty talk, praise kink (if you squint), masturbating (m!only), fingering (f!receiving), unprotected sex/PinV sex (wrap it before you tap it lovelies pls), c** swallowing (I don't know how else to put that HAHAHA), slight overstim (for both parties), slightly ooc!JJ (for the plot), one brief argument scene between the reader and JJ. Fluff and smut. Coworkers to friends to lovers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader/afab!reader

A/N: I love a little "she fell first, he fell harder" trope, so I'm hoping you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. :) I am once again pleading my case that I am NOT a JJ hater!! I just saw a clip of this scene from season 3 and was inspired because I too have been in Spencer's shoes and honestly it hurts, so I wanted to change up the outcome a little bit. The title comes from Taylor Swift's "So High School" but the fic isn't necessarily based around the song if that makes sense. As always, please tell me what you think! If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends. <3 Thank you and I love you all!! :)

Y/N had never been particularly fond of JJ. They worked well together, of course—professionalism came first—but there was something about JJ that rubbed her the wrong way. It felt so high school to say, but Y/N had always seen her as a bit of a "mean girl."

Y/N had joined the BAU a year after Spencer, and she’d witnessed firsthand the awkwardness when Spencer, shy and eager, had asked JJ to go to a football game with him as a date after Gideon had given him tickets. A sweet, innocent gesture, only for JJ to show up with Penelope in tow, turning the evening into a humiliating disaster for Spencer. That was just one of the many moments Y/N had found herself bristling at JJ's treatment of him. Despite JJ’s consistent indifference and occasional cruelty, Spencer’s feelings for her had never wavered. 

Until today.

Spencer sat across from JJ on the jet, eager to share his excitement about the book he was reading and its similarities with Pinocchio, his voice bubbling with enthusiasm as he rambled on. He barely noticed the lack of interest in JJ's eyes, her eyebrows raised in a near-sarcastic expression as she muttered a disinterested "Wow" in the middle of his sentence. She tossed the case file onto the table without a second glance and stood. "Interesting. Coffee?" she asked, her voice dripping with faux sweetness, her smile a brittle, saccharine mask. 

Spencer froze, his words dying in his throat as she swiftly walked away. He felt a sinking sensation in his chest—an awkward mix of humiliation and disappointment. Was he that annoying? His hands trembled slightly as he glanced down at the book in his lap, the pages now feeling heavier than they had moments ago. He cleared his throat, but the discomfort lingered, thick in the air.

Y/N had been watching the whole exchange from her spot on the couch, her eyes narrowing as she watched JJ throw her head back in a loud laugh at something Morgan had said about “escaping the robot” from across the jet. That was the breaking point. Y/N's stomach twisted with frustration. She was tired—so tired—of watching JJ repeatedly gut the sweet boy simply because he had a hopeless crush on her, one that JJ clearly saw as beneath her.  

Swinging her legs from where they were tucked underneath her, Y/N stood and made her way to the seat JJ had previously been occupying, sliding into it abruptly.

Spencer’s head jerked up as she quickly filled the seat, blinking hard as confusion washed over his features. “Oh! Uh, hey Y/N… was there something you needed?” he asked softly, his gaze dropping back to the table, hoping she wouldn’t notice the wounded look in his eyes.

“I was listening to your conversation earlier and wanted to ask if you would continue. Please.”

Spencer’s mouth parted in surprise, unsure if he’d heard her correctly. She… wanted to listen to him? He swallowed, his brows furrowing slightly as he hesitated before speaking. “You... you don’t have to do that just to make me feel better, you know.”

Y/N shook her head firmly, her hands coming together on the table as she leaned in slightly, her eyes never leaving his. “Spencer,” she said softly, her voice steady. “I’m not asking you to continue because I feel sorry for you. I’m asking because I actually want to hear what you have to say.” Her tone was gentle yet sincere, and there was no mistaking the genuine interest in her words.

Spencer’s heart raced as he stared at her, his mind struggling to catch up with the moment before he finally opened his mouth, stumbling over the words to continue his excited rant from earlier. Spencer felt something shift inside him with every hum of acknowledgment, nod, and occasional question or light joke. It hit him all at once—this was how she always spoke to him: fully engaged, genuinely curious. She didn’t see him as the genius or the outcast. She saw him as... just Spencer. A person. Not a curiosity. Not a burden. Just him.

And for the rest of the flight, Y/N encouraged Spencer to spill every single thought that came to mind, entranced by the sweet boy in front of her for the entire time.

It was late when they finally landed, the team worn out and eager to get home. With quick goodbyes and Hotch’s promise of a day off tomorrow, the group trickled out of the office, one by one. When Spencer was left alone in the bullpen, he let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair as he sat at his desk under the guise of needing to look for something before leaving. His thoughts kept drifting back to the interaction with Y/N on the jet. He couldn’t shake it. And for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why.

It wasn’t like they weren’t already friends—talking to her was nothing out of the ordinary. But something about their interaction today felt different. Maybe it was how quickly she’d stepped in when she saw he was hurt? Then again, the more Spencer thought about it, the more he realized that wasn’t all that unusual either. He’d often felt out of place—whether it was the team’s teasing that sometimes went too far, JJ’s backhanded compliments that left him more bewildered than flattered, or the officers who looked past him because of his age or appearance.

And every time, without fail, Y/N had been there. She was always the one picking up the pieces of his bruised confidence, offering him quiet support with nothing more than a kind word or a warm smile, never asking for anything in return.

“Spencer?” 

Spencer jumped, the unexpected voice pulling him out of his thoughts. He spun around in his seat, heart racing, to find Y/N standing there, her hands raised in a placating gesture. He’d thought she’d already left with the rest of the team, but apparently, he’d been wrong.  

“Whoa, take it easy—it's just me. Are you okay?” Y/N approached slowly, her expression softening with concern as Spencer took slow, deep breaths, trying to steady his racing heart.

“Uh, yeah! I-I’m fine,” Spencer stammered, wincing as his voice cracked. “I just… I thought everyone had already left.”

“Oh, sorry,” she said with a chuckle, flashing a sheepish grin. “I told Hotch I’d drop everything off in evidence before heading out, but I kind of took my time.” She shrugged, then glanced at him. “What about you? Why are you still here?”

Spencer hesitated, his brow furrowing as he thought about her question. What was he still doing here, other than overthinking a simple conversation on the jet? He cleared his throat and stood up from his desk. “I thought I left a certain book here, but... it turns out it’s actually at home.” The weak excuse was followed by a nervous laugh as Spencer fidgeted with his fingers, silently hoping she wouldn’t question him further. 

It seemed luck was on his side, as she nodded slowly—her disbelief clear, but deciding not to press. Instead, she offered a soft smile and tilted her head toward the elevator. “Well, if you're heading out now, would you like to walk with me to my car?” Y/N asked, her voice laced with a hint of hope. “I can give you a ride so you don’t have to take the metro so late.”

Spencer was momentarily surprised by the offer, but before he could overanalyze it, he found himself nodding. She’d offered him rides before, and he’d always turned her down, worried he’d be inconveniencing her or that she was just being polite. But tonight, after the grueling case, he felt too drained to talk himself out of it. Honestly, he wasn’t opposed to spending a little more time with her—just the two of them.

“Um… that would be really nice, actually. Thank you.” 

Y/N waved it off with a playful grin. “It’s really no big deal, Spencer. I honestly wish you'd take me up on it more often. I worry about you on those late trains, and I live just five minutes from you. It’d be nice to have some company on the way home.” 

They continued their light conversation the entire way to the parking garage, pausing only when they got to her car. Y/N fumbled with her keys, unlocking the doors quickly before they slid inside.

The first thing Spencer noticed was the sweet fragrance of her perfume, filling the small space around them. He hadn’t really noticed it before, but now he found himself trying hard not to breathe in too deeply, captivated by the scent and wanting more of it. The smell of her shampoo blended with the fragrance, intensifying as she turned her head to back out of her parking spot. Spencer hadn’t even realized the car had started until that moment.

The next thing he noticed was the sticker on her dash reading Amor Fati. A faint smile curled at his lips as he shifted his gaze to her. He watched her silently for a moment as she focused on the road.

“Lover of fate, huh?”

“Hm?” Y/N frowned in confusion, shooting him a quick sideways glance as she stopped at a red light. It took a moment before she realized what he was referring to. “Oh, yeah. What about it, doc?” She chuckled, her voice light and teasing.

Spencer hummed, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Oh, nothing… But, did you know that Friedrich Nietzsche built most of his philosophy around that phrase?”

They plunged into a lively conversation, exchanging thoughts on various philosophers and their personal interpretations of the phrase. Spencer was captivated. The only other person who had ever indulged him in such “nerdy” discussions was Penelope (mostly about Doctor Who, of course). It was oddly refreshing, but at the same time, it only added fuel to the fire of his overthinking.

What was it that kept him so hopelessly fixated on JJ? She could be a good friend at times—he wouldn’t deny that—but there were moments when he felt like nothing more than a charity case. Like that kid who clings to someone at school, oblivious to the fact that they don’t actually want to talk to them. She was beautiful, of course—anyone could see that. But they didn’t share much in common, and their hobbies barely aligned. So why did he always end up seeking her out, when there were so many other people he could spend time with?

After the incident on the jet, Spencer had made a decision. He was done pouring so much energy into the blonde liaison and instead would focus on building a genuine friendship with Y/N. Not just the casual co-worker relationship they had, but something real. Maybe that’s why her sudden attention on the jet had caught him off guard. Maybe it wasn’t a crush forming, but rather a deep-rooted loneliness, a subconscious desire for a true friend. That had to be it.

The drive to his apartment seemed to fly by, and as Spencer stepped out of the car, he was surprised by the sense of reluctance that settled over him. He murmured his thanks and goodnight to Y/N, offering a shy smile, his thoughts lingering on the brief but unexpected moment of connection.

"Hey, Spencer?" Y/N called just as he was about to close the door. He paused, and she went on, her tone genuine. "I meant what I said. If you ever want to skip the metro and ride with me instead, I’d love the company. Honestly, I enjoyed our drive so much more than the usual Top 40 hits on the radio."

Spencer’s smile grew, a hesitant nod accompanying the soft bite of his lower lip. This was the opportunity to build something real with her, and for once, he decided not to second-guess it. “I’d really like that, actually.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, a blend of relief and excitement bubbling up inside her. A smile spread across her face as she let out a soft breath. "Great. I’m looking forward to it," she said, her voice warm. "Goodnight, Spencer. Enjoy your day off tomorrow."

The first week of Spencer’s newfound behavior had Y/N feeling… disoriented, for lack of a better term. It wasn’t a bad feeling, not at all. She was genuinely thrilled by the extra attention, but she couldn’t quite figure out what had caused the sudden shift in their dynamic.

Spencer had begun riding home with her after work, both of them quickly growing fond of the newfound companionship. Throughout the day, he found himself gravitating toward her desk more often, offering to help with paperwork or providing a second opinion when she second guessed something. As they spent more time together, their conversations became easier—what had started as awkward exchanges soon evolved into Spencer initiating talks, no longer waiting for her to take the lead.

The irritated huff that escaped JJ’s lips as she stormed past everyone and into her office after Spencer politely declined her offer to sit with her and sort through case files, made it clear—Y/N wasn’t the only one noticing the change.

The next notable shift came when the BAU was called to California for a case. As everyone filed onto the jet and took their usual seats, there was one exception: Spencer Reid. When Y/N settled onto the couch, she was greeted by a soft, uncertain voice.

“Can I join you?” Spencer asked, his fingers nervously tugging at the end of his cardigan sleeves as he blinked at her with those sweet, vulnerable brown eyes.

The entire team glanced up in surprise, caught off guard by Spencer's decision not to take his usual spot across from JJ. Y/N, both puzzled and pleased, quickly moved to make space, patting the seat beside her with an encouraging smile.

"Of course, Spence. Go right ahead."

Spencer let out a quiet sigh, his shoulders drooping in relief as he settled into the seat next to Y/N, the tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying easing from his body. Ignoring the gawking from the others, he leaned in slightly, feeling more at ease in her presence. As Y/N opened the case file, he glanced at her with a small smile, ready to dive into the work with her by his side.

Morgan chuckled from across the jet, looking at JJ with raised brows as she scoffed to herself. "What'd you do to piss off the kid?"

“I didn’t do anything! And when did she start calling him ‘Spence’?” JJ grumbled, her arms crossed defensively as she narrowed her eyes at the two of them.

“Whoa,” Morgan muttered, his smile dropping into a frown. “Didn’t realize I was hitting a sore spot. What’s it matter what she calls him, anyway?”

JJ stiffened, her words catching in her throat as she struggled to respond. Morgan was right—she wasn’t the only one who could give Spencer a nickname. But that was her name for him, and it stung a little more now, given the distance that had been growing between them.

"It’s nothing," JJ replied quickly, forcing a casual shrug. "I was just surprised, that’s all." But even as she spoke, she couldn’t shake the unease lingering in her chest, unsure why it bothered her so much.

The remainder of the flight was spent with the team discussing the case, Hotch assigning tasks for when they touched down. Once they had gone over everything they could, the conversation tapered off, and silence settled over the cabin. Each team member retreated into their own thoughts, but Y/N and Spencer remained deep in discussion, quietly exchanging ideas about the unsub.

As they leaned in to continue their conversation, they unknowingly inched closer, drawn together by the ease of their shared focus. And when Spencer felt Y/N's knee brush against his, he kept his leg still, savoring the contact in silence—his secret to keep.

It took Spencer just over two months to finally gather the courage to ask Y/N to hang out outside of work or their shared car rides—something he had started contributing to so he could get more comfortable with driving. She’d quickly climbed the ranks of people he favored and felt comfortable with, but the fear of rejection still held him back. He didn’t want to jeopardize the connection they’d built, especially when it felt so important to him.

Spencer’s fear dissolved when he asked Y/N to come over and watch a film he’d picked up at an antique shop. Her excited smile and enthusiastic "Duh, I'd love to!" made him realize that she’d likely been waiting for him to take the first step all along.

He was grateful for how Y/N allowed him to move at his own pace, understanding that his accelerated path through high school and college had made it difficult for him to form connections. She never rushed him, giving him the space to open up when he was ready and letting their relationship develop naturally.

Y/N arrived at Spencer’s apartment, her arms loaded with snacks and dressed in cozy clothes, her excitement palpable. She enjoyed their car rides, of course, but an hour together hardly seemed enough compared to the time she truly longed to spend with him.

Y/N had been captivated by Spencer for years, but the more time they spent together, the harder her heart beat for him—every smile, every laugh, every conversation only added to her growing feelings. She told herself she was content with just being friends, that having him in her life, even in the smallest way, was enough. But deep down, she knew the truth—her heart yearned for something more, something that seemed just out of reach.

"Y/N! Hi, welcome in!"

The door swung open to reveal Spencer, his grin wide with excitement as he motioned for her to step inside. The sight of him—beaming with an almost childlike enthusiasm—made her smile in return. His apartment matched her expectations in the best way possible: shelves overflowing with books and quirky knick-knacks, soft, ambient light spilling from lamps that cast a cozy glow across the room, and a desk strewn with an organized mess of case files and open journals. It was a perfect reflection of Spencer—intellectually chaotic, but with an undeniable charm and warmth.

Spencer's heart skipped a beat as she entered the living room, and for a moment, he lost track of everything around him. He had always seen her dressed up for work—polished, professional, a perfect image of control. But now, in her casual clothes, with her hair down and no hint of the usual makeup, she looked entirely different.

She was still stunning, but it was a softer kind of beauty, one that crept up on him and left him breathless before he even realized it. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable at first glance, but once he took her in, he couldn’t seem to pull his focus away. Spencer had always thought he knew Y/N, but this version of her… this version felt like a secret he wasn’t ready to discover yet.

"Where would you like these?" Y/N asked, lifting her arms up with the snacks.

The sound of her voice broke Spencer from his daze, and he quickly moved to help, grabbing a few items to set them down on the coffee table. "Oh, uh, you didn’t have to bring snacks," he stammered, his hands fumbling with the food as he awkwardly rearranged it. "I was just going to order takeout or something. You’re the guest," he added, his words tumbling out in a nervous rush. His mind was racing, still caught in the subtle sweetness of her perfume that lingered in the air as he leaned in to grab the bags, making it hard to focus.

Y/N shrugged, a small grin playing on her lips as she set the snacks down. "I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. And if you’re still craving takeout later, I won't stop you from ordering it. Sound good?"

He nodded, his nose twitching as he grinned, feeling his tension ease. It was just Y/N, he reminded himself. There was no reason to feel this flustered.

An hour later, with the movie playing and a bag of gummy bears between them, Spencer quickly realized he'd been wrong. He had plenty of reasons to feel flustered.

The film, which had subtitles, was riddled with translation errors. Each time a jumbled sentence appeared, Y/N would lean in close, her breath warm against his ear causing shivers up and down his spine as she whispered, "What does that one mean?" Her thigh brushed against his, neither of them making any effort to break the contact. Spencer felt an almost electric warmth spread through him from the slight touch, his body aching for more. Was he really that starved for affection?

That night seemed to crack something deep inside him, like a dam giving way to a flood of longing for touch.

Spencer—who had always been wary of physical contact—now found himself drawn to Y/N in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Every time they handed each other papers or worked on case files together, he’d make sure their fingers brushed. As he passed by her desk, he’d let his fingers trace along her shoulder blades, offering her a quiet smile that she always returned. After particularly exhausting days, he’d seek her out, leaning into her embrace, letting her arms offer him comfort and grounding. And during their hangouts, Spencer no longer hesitated to inch closer, letting his side press against hers, or allowing her to stretch her legs over his lap. The proximity felt natural, and he couldn’t help but crave it more.

It only got worse as time went on. He couldn't keep his hands off of her. It wasn't just casual touches anymore—it was almost as if every opportunity to be near her was a chance to close the distance between them. Y/N couldn't get enough of it. And the team? They definitely noticed. JJ, in particular, seemed to pick up on it right away.

JJ had attempted to confront Spencer about his growing closeness with Y/N before, but each time, he waved her off, insisting that he and Y/N had simply discovered they had more in common than he'd realized and that he just wanted to be her friend. JJ wasn’t convinced—not for a second. It was obvious to her that Spencer was falling for Y/N, and for reasons she couldn’t fully explain, it left a bad taste in her mouth. It wasn’t that she harbored romantic feelings for him, but she had grown accustomed to his attention. As much as she hated to admit it, she missed being the one to receive it.

The tension finally boiled over when the team was dispatched to a case in Oregon.

It had been six months since the incident on the jet, and Y/N and Spencer had become almost inseparable. Garcia and Morgan, delighted by their closeness, often teased them and playfully begged them to just admit they were dating—though both vehemently insisted that their relationship was purely platonic. Rossi and Emily often exchanged knowing looks on the jet, with Emily even going so far as to snap a picture of Y/N and Spencer sleeping on the couch after a case—a cute picture featuring Spencer’s head resting on Y/N’s and her face tucked into his shoulder as they peacefully dozed together. Even Hotch seemed to approve, having reviewed the Bureau’s internal fraternization policies just in case Strauss raised an issue. The only person who didn’t seem thrilled about it was JJ.

Two days in Oregon, and the team was already facing an uphill battle. They’d been working non-stop to build a profile for the unsub, but so far, nothing had gone right. There were no witnesses who could provide a description, a local officer had already compromised key evidence from the first crime scene, and the victims seemed to have no clear link to one another. Frustration was mounting for everyone, but for JJ it was mounting for an entirely separate reason.

Spencer had been managing his frustration through subtle touches with Y/N—brief brushes of his hand against her lower back as he passed, pressing his head into her shoulder with a frustrated groan after combing through their limited information for hours... But the moment that pushed JJ to her breaking point was when Spencer, noticing an officer staring at Y/N, pulled her possessively into him, his hand firmly gripping her waist until that officer left the room.

"Y/N?"

JJ's voice was tight as she stepped into the conference room the local officers had set up for the BAU to use during their case, spotting Y/N standing in front of the pinned-up map of the area as she studied the locations where the victims had been found. Spencer had just left, going to start more coffee for them since they were running low. The rest of the team was out in the field, reinvestigating the crime scenes for anything that may have been missed initially.

Y/N looked up, her brow furrowing as JJ closed the door. They weren’t close on a personal level, and Y/N couldn’t think of any reason, related to the case or otherwise, for JJ to want to speak with her alone.

"...Yes?"

JJ lingered near the end of the table, her arms crossed across her chest as she leveled Y/N with a look that immediately had her on edge. "I’m not trying to pry, but as his best friend, I have to ask… what’s going on between you and Spencer?" Her face was twisted in a scowl, her head tilting as she waited for a response.

Y/N's eyebrows nearly shot up into her hairline at that, a scoffed laugh leaving her lips before she could stop it. His best friend. Was she serious?

"Excuse me?"

"What's going on with you and Spencer?" JJ repeated, her voice deliberate. "Everyone’s noticed how he’s been acting—the constant touching, for one, is a bit much, don’t you think? He never wants to hang out with me anymore. It’s like he's all about you now. So, are you two seeing each other or what?"

Y/N turned to face JJ fully, her lips tightening into a thin line as she took a steadying breath. Her audacity was astounding, truly. The last thing she wanted today was to argue with this fucking—

"That's hilarious, Jennifer. Really," Y/N chuckled lowly, shaking her head. "Have you ever considered that maybe—just maybe—Spencer is an adult who can make his own decisions? I’m not the reason he doesn't want to spend time with you."

JJ stiffened at the mention of her name, scoffing in response. "Oh, clearly you have something to do with it. Before you started driving him home, he followed me around like a lost puppy. Now he barely even wants to be around me!"

That struck a nerve in Y/N, like a live wire finally sparked to life. A lost puppy? Was that truly how little she thought of him? Y/N's head tilted, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone as she spoke again.

"Don't you ever talk about Spencer like that again. He's not your fucking pet, Jennifer!"

Her voice was menacing as she stepped forward, grim satisfaction coursing through her as JJ stumbled backward.

"Spencer is a brilliant, capable man who’s never deserved the way you or anyone else have made him feel less than that. We’re not dating. But if we were, I wouldn’t be ashamed of him. Unlike you, who found the idea of a man like him adoring you repulsive instead of seeing it for the gift it was. Spencer Reid is a fucking treasure, and it’s entirely your fault you never realized how lucky you were to have his attention."

Y/N's face was flushed red with anger, her chest heaving as she seethed.

"So again, I have nothing to do with him not wanting to spend time with you anymore. Maybe he finally realized that you're just not as great of a person as you pretend to be."

Rather than waiting for the teary-eyed, speechless blonde to reply, Y/N grabbed her things and stormed out, heading out to take an early lunch. But as she swung the door open, she was met with Spencer standing right there, and before she could react, she collided with his chest. His hands immediately flew to her waist, steadying her as she looked up sheepishly.

"Shit! I’m sorry, Spence," Y/N muttered, still fuming from her conversation with JJ. Her face turned even redder when she realized he might have heard some of it, but she didn’t regret a word of what she’d said.

He hadn't just heard some of it... He'd heard all of it. When he’d left earlier, he’d turned back, intending to ask if she wanted to take a break from the map. Instead, he had been met with the sight of JJ closing the door, and he curiously (shamefully) pressed up against it to know what was going on.

Admittedly, it stung to hear JJ talk about him like that, even though he already knew she'd taken advantage of his past crush on her. But Y/N's words and how she defended him hit him harder than expected. It became clear in that instant—no one had ever been there for him the way she always had been, and somewhere along the way, he'd fallen deeply in love with her.

"Hey, hey, it’s alright," Spencer said quietly, his hands smoothing over her waist before resting gently on her shoulders. "Go take your lunch. You’ve earned a break. I’ll keep working on the geographical profile until you return."

Y/N offered a weary but grateful smile before walking away, leaving Spencer alone to process the revelation weighing on him.

That night, Spencer paced his hotel room, caught between waiting until they were home to tell Y/N how he felt or just saying it now. He felt like an idiot for not recognizing it sooner, for convincing himself his feelings for her were purely platonic. But now that he knew, it consumed him. He wanted to shout it to the heavens, to tell the world he was in love with her.

Spencer knew what he had to do. He realized that confessing his feelings in the middle of a case wasn’t ideal, but the thought of waiting any longer to let her know how much she meant to him was unbearable. That’s why, before he could talk himself out of it, he found himself standing outside her door at midnight, knocking softly.

"Spence? You okay?"

Her sleepy voice tugged at his heart as she opened the door, rubbing her eyes and letting out a soft yawn. She smiled faintly, gesturing for him to come in. The room was cloaked in darkness, but the moonlight spilling through the curtains illuminated the crumpled sheets, evidence of her restless sleep.

His heart hammered in his chest as he breathed in unsteadily, lowering himself onto the edge of her bed. She crawled back to the middle, flicking on the bedside lamp, the soft light casting a warm glow between them. His courage started to falter, but the gentle concern in her eyes anchored him. He remembered why he was here—because with her, he felt safe enough to face this, no matter how vulnerable he felt.

"Y/N, I—" Spencer began, his voice catching for a moment, but he continued anyway. "I heard what happened with JJ earlier, and it made me realize something I should’ve recognized a long time ago. I was so caught up in denial that it didn’t hit me until now. And I’m so sorry for that…"

Oh, fuck. He was starting to ramble. This isn't how he wanted this to go at all—

"Y/N... I'm in love with you. I am so, so in love with you that it aches. You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful person I’ve ever known. And it’s not just the way you look, though I could spend hours talking about how stunning you are. It’s who you are, the goodness that radiates from you. You make me want to be better, to wake up every day and try to be at least half the person you are. You care for everyone around you like it’s your purpose, and I want to be the one who takes care of you for once because you truly deserve that. I’ve never felt anything like this, and if you don’t feel the same way, that’s okay. But I just—I needed you to know."

Y/N’s jaw dropped as Spencer’s confession filled the air, her eyes welling with tears as the words she had longed for spilled from him. She moved swiftly, sitting up from the pillows and crawling toward him, a tear dripping down her cheek as she rested her hands on his shoulders.

"I love you too, Spencer Reid," she breathed, her voice trembling with sincerity. "I love you with everything I am."

Spencer’s lungs burned as he released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He returned her watery smile, his heart overflowing with love for the woman before him. Carefully, he cupped her face, his thumb following the line of her cheeks, his eyes filled with a quiet mix of wonder and adoration.

“Can I kiss you? Please?”

Her lips were on his the second he uttered the last syllable.

The kiss was both gentle and intense, their lips meeting with a deliberate slowness as if savoring every moment of crossing the line from friendship into something more. There was a hunger beneath the tenderness, an unspoken yearning finally being released. Their lips parted for only a second, allowing them to suck in a quick breath before they were back on each other. Each kiss was a quiet revelation, better than they had ever dreamed.

What started as an innocent declaration of their feelings for each other quickly evolved into something more ravenous as Spencer’s tongue prodded at the seam of her lips. The soft exhale Y/N released as their tongues brushed together had Spencer groaning, one of his hands sliding to cradle the back of her head as he savored the taste of her and the feeling of her lips against his. His other hand gingerly slid down her body, settling on her hip as he leaned forward, guiding her to rest against the pillows.

Y/N’s thighs parted eagerly to make room for him between them, her hands lacing through his hair as she tugged him impossibly closer. His elbows dug into the mattress beside her body as he hovered above her, swallowing the moan that slipped from her lips when their hips pressed together. He chased her lips when she tipped her head back, kissing her with an intensity that made her dizzy and had her whining into his mouth.

"I-I want— Spence, please—"

Y/N pleaded as his lips trailed down the side of her neck to suck a mark into her collarbone, though she wasn't even sure what she was begging for. She just knew she needed him. Her body felt like it was aflame, ignited by the spark that was Spencer's tongue soothing the possessive bruise now blooming across her skin. She needed him so desperately that her mind became a blur, consumed by an endless craving, unable to focus on anything but the overwhelming desire for more—more of him, more of this, more of everything he offered.

The thin fabric of their pajamas did little to conceal the feeling of his stiff cock grinding against her in subtle rocks of his hips as his hands began to roam her body, only adding to the overwhelming need she felt coursing through her. Spencer hushed her with a gentle peck, his lips lingering against hers for a brief, sweet moment before he moved to kiss her nose, her cheeks, and finally her forehead. With each gentle kiss, she couldn't help but giggle softly, her laughter melting into the space between them.

"I know, pretty girl. You're already so worked up and all I've done is kiss you," he cooed, the words taking her by surprise. He wasn't wrong. A wet patch had started seeping through the cotton of her pants, something his fingers had taken an interest in as he began to lightly skim up and down her clit with his knuckles over the damp fabric. "No one ever takes care of you, do they, baby? Let me be the one to take care of you, Y/N. Please?" He paused, gently lifting her chin so he could meet her gaze.

Spencer’s words quieted the storm raging inside her, and she took a deep breath, her body finally relaxing. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt such a strong desire to let go, to stop carrying the weight of everything alone. To finally surrender and let someone take care of her. So she did exactly that.

"Yes. God, yes. Please, Spencer," Y/N whispered, her eyes searching his, full of need and trust.

It was as if a switch flipped the moment Spencer got the confirmation he needed.

His lips were back on hers in an instant, devouring her as though she'd melt away if he stopped touching her for even a second. He rolled them over, breaking the kiss to glide his hands underneath the rumpled t-shirt Y/N had on for bed and lifting it over her head in one swift motion. Ignoring her soft squeal of surprise, he brought his hands down to her hips, massaging the skin there before sliding his hands under the waistband of her pajama pants to grip her ass.

"Look at you… You're nothing short of incredible. Absolutely breathtaking," Spencer murmured, staring up at her in awe. The soft brown of his eyes had faded, overtaken by the dark void of his dilated pupils, as if a veil had been drawn across them. "I can't even begin to express how lucky I am to have you... how beautiful you are."

Y/N’s cheeks flushed under his gaze, her teeth gently catching her lower lip as she placed her hands beside his head for support. She shivered as her nipples brushed against the fabric of his shirt, hardened by the cool air of the hotel room and the desire she felt coursing through her. She answered with a hum and ducked her head shyly, mouthing at the sensitive skin underneath his jaw as she wriggled impatiently in his hold.

Spencer chuckled breathlessly, squeezing her ass again before retracting his hands. His fingers danced along the waistband of her pants teasingly before he began to tug them down, dragging her panties with them. His heart raced as she wiggled out of them, hammering against his chest with a rhythm that felt almost deafening. He couldn’t comprehend what he’d done to deserve someone like her, but he would spend a lifetime making sure she knew just how precious she was to him.

"It's your turn to strip," Y/N mumbled as she sat up, straddling his waist as her hands found their way under his shirt. "I feel so... exposed."

Spencer’s brows quirked in amusement, a quiet laugh slipping out before he could stop it as she shoved the shirt up and over his head. She slithered down his body, grinning up at him before placing a kiss on his hip bone. His pants soon joined the growing pile of clothes on the ground, followed shortly after by his boxers.

"There. Is that better, sweetheart?" Spencer teased, but the words went completely unheard as she gawked at him.

Y/N kneeled between his spread legs, her hands planted firmly on his thighs as she took in the sight of him. He lay before her like something straight out of her most vivid dreams, more stunning than she’d ever imagined. He was effortlessly handsome—his hair tousled, lips slightly swollen from their kisses, and freckles and scars scattered across his shoulders and chest like a map of his past. His muscles were lean and toned, and the sparse hair trailing down beneath his belly button was far more enticing than it should've been. His cock was as pretty as he was, the flushed head of his more than impressive arousal matching the pink of his cheeks.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away.

"C'mere. I'm supposed to be taking care of you," Spencer grinned, motioning for Y/N to crawl back over him.

Instead of letting her settle with her thighs around his hips like she had previously been, he tugged insistently, her brows furrowing in confusion as she wobbled above him.

"Spencer, what—"

"Get up here," Spencer crooned, finally managing to maneuver her forward so her pussy hovered over his mouth. "And sit down."

Y/N's jaw dropped, her hands flying out to catch herself as she gripped the headboard. She was taken aback, utterly speechless. Here she was, being manhandled by Spencer Reid. The same quiet, awkward genius who rambled endlessly about statistics and couldn’t sit still for more than a minute was man-handling her and demanding she sit on his face. Was she dreaming?

"Are you— are you sure?" Y/N squeaked, staring down at him with wide eyes. "You really don't have to—"

Spencer turned his head so he could pepper open-mouthed kisses up and down her inner thigh, coaxing a soft moan from her as his warm breath fanned across her soaked folds.

"Stop all that worrying, pretty girl. I told you I'd take care of you—let me keep my word."

Before she could protest, Spencer gripped her hips, pulling her down at the same time he tilted his head up to lap his tongue over her core. Any hesitation Y/N had left evaporated from her body as a guttural moan ripped its way from her throat, her eyes fluttering shut as Spencer dragged his tongue over her clit. His movements were languid but hungry as he reveled in the taste of her, relishing her essence as though it was the very thing he needed to fuel his existence.

The air was filled with a mixture of moans and the slick sound of Spencer's mouth working between her legs, only amplifying the intense pleasure swimming through her body. Once Spencer was sure Y/N would stay put, he let one of his hands fall away from her hips, tracing it down his body until it wrapped around his cock. The breathy sounds she was letting out had him painfully hard, his thumb spreading the bead of precum spilling from the tip down the length of him as he began to pump himself.

"Oh, fuck—" Y/N whined as she forced her eyes open, turning to look over her shoulder at the sound of Spencer touching himself. The sight had her thighs trembling, a low groan rumbling in her throat as she turned her gaze down to look at him underneath her.

His eyes were squeezed shut, his brows pinched together in pleasure as his hand began to move faster. It was downright sinful. She'd never seen anything more beautiful.

Spencer alternated between fucking his tongue into her and sucking gently at her clit, the combination hurtling her toward her orgasm at a speed she never thought was possible. Y/N's hips rocked against his face, frantic whimpers slipping from her lips as her face began to scrunch in pleasure. The needy moans he was letting out against her skin pushed her over the edge as a sharp gasp broke free into the air, followed by a loud cry as her hands dropped from the headboard to tangle into his hair while she came.

Spencer whimpered as he let go of himself, instead using his hands to anchor her down while he gently worked her through her climax. He pressed a small kiss to her clit before she squirmed away, falling onto the bed beside him as her chest heaved. A look of adoration lingered on his face as he stroked her side and hair, pressing his lips to her forehead while she caught her breath.

Y/N flashed a small grin, rolling her eyes at his proud expression. A comforting heaviness settled in her limbs, pulling her deeper into the bed as she released a soft sigh. It took her a few moments to push herself up on her elbow, shifting to face him instead of lying flat on her back.

"How am I ever supposed to get anything done again now that I know you can do that?" Y/N murmured with a hint of exasperation, tilting her head to nuzzle her nose against his.

Spencer’s breath hitched as she draped her leg across his waist, hissing quietly as the head of his cock brushed against her warmth. He hummed, feigning thought before shrugging with a playful grin. "Could be a reward for a job well done," he teased, brushing a lingering kiss across her lips as his hand rubbed up and down her thigh.

"Yeah?" Y/N's hips began to slowly rock back and forth, the friction from his cock pressing between her folds making her head spin. "Well, can I reward you for a job well done then?"

Spencer's fingers flexed against her thigh, a low noise escaping him as he fought to keep his eyes on hers.

It made sense to him now why sailors would plummet into icy waters at the sound of a siren's call. If that call was anything as alluring as the sound of her voice, he'd happily do the same. She could demand the most heinous things of him right now and he'd do them simply because she asked.

But tonight was about her.

So instead of caving and begging for her touch, he shook his head, his lips quirking up at the pout forming on her lips. "As much as I would love to take you up on that offer, I'm supposed to be taking care of you, sweetheart. Not the other way around."

"Okay... so then take care of me by fucking me. Please?"

Spencer's resolve broke at her words. How could he possibly deny her? He'd be an absolute fool not to give her whatever her heart wished for.

His lips met hers in a fervent kiss as he moved to hover over her once more. Two of his fingers found her soaked pussy and sank inside of her with little resistance, a smug grin finding its way to his face as she gasped loudly into his mouth. He broke the kiss, trailing his lips along her jaw before he whispered into her ear.

"Are you sure that's what you want?"

Y/N bucked her hips up into his touch, writhing underneath him as she nodded frantically. There wasn't a thing in this world that she wanted more. "Yes, Spence, please. Please fuck me. I need it—"

Spencer groaned, latching his lips onto the side of her neck as he inhaled sharply through his nose before he sat back on his heels. His fingers slipped out of her, her eyes widening as he brought the digits to his mouth and sucked them clean with a satisfied hum.

"Flip over."

Y/N followed his command without hesitation, the rush of anticipation making her feel almost detached, as though she were on autopilot, waiting to see what he would do next. Her breath caught in her throat as his lips pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder before he reached for a pillow, tucking it underneath her hips to prop her up. A low whine emitted from her chest as she felt the flushed head of his arousal bump against her entrance, her hips canting back in an attempt to get him to push forward as he leaned forward, his chest brushing her back as he planted his hands into the mattress beside her.

"Do you want it like this, sweetheart? No condom? Because I can go find one..." Spencer murmured into her ear, his breathing labored as he teased her opening.

"Please— Wanna feel you, Spence," She whined into the pillow, arching her hips into his touch, though he remained just out of reach.

Spencer's eyes squeezed shut as a pang of arousal shot through him, taking a shuddering breath to mentally prepare himself not to blow his load before he even fucked her. With a kiss to the back of her head, Spencer began to press forward, easing into her inch by inch.

Y/N's mouth gaped open against the pillow she'd tugged underneath her head in a silent moan, the sensation of him finally filling her more intense than she'd expected. Her fingers gripped the sheets as he bottomed out, a pitiful whimper slipping free as she wiggled her hips in an attempt to adjust to the feeling. Her walls clenched around him instinctively as she adjusted, causing a broken moan to fall from his lips as his head rested against her shoulder, his breath puffing across her skin in warm bursts.

His right arm kept him braced above her while his left arm made its way under her chest, pulling her close as his hand began to grope at her breasts. His fingertips pinched one of her nipples, reveling in the soft moan she let out. "Are you ready for me to move, pretty girl?" He breathed, peppering kisses along the side of her face as he waited for her to relax.

At her nod, Spencer began to move, his thrusts slow but powerful as he repeatedly drove into her. He shifted up onto his knees, pulling her hips back into his languid thrusts as she moaned beneath him. The angle allowed him to brush her G-spot with every stroke, causing her toes to curl with each pang of pleasure that wracked her body. His hands squeezed the flesh of her ass, a low whine bubbling in his throat as he took in the sight of his cock sliding in and out of her.

It was downright erotic, the sight of her arousal coating the wiry curls at the base of him driving him insane. She was so fucking wet for him. The knowledge that he was making her feel this good made his head spin. He couldn't keep it to himself anymore. He needed to show her how deeply this was affecting him, to make her understand the intensity of the way she made him feel.

Everyone knew Spencer liked to run his mouth. It wasn't a surprise that this remained true during sex. What surprised Y/N, however, was how absolutely filthy of a mouth the man had. Spencer, the same Spencer who had barely uttered a curse in all the years she'd known him, was now stringing together words that would make even the most foul-mouthed person blush.

His pace increased with each word he murmured, small "ah, ah, ah's" spilling from her lips as he began to really pound into her.

"Does that feel good? Huh? Finally being taken care of the way you deserve?"

"Fuck— look at you, baby. Taking my cock so well. Do you like that? You like feeling me stretch you open?"

"Such a perfect pussy, sweetheart. So fucking good for me. So tight. My beautiful girl."

Every vulgar word he breathed into the space between them had her mind reeling, her body teetering on the edge of release as her walls fluttered around him. Desperate moans began to spill from her as she took everything he had to offer, her teeth digging into her lower lip to try to stifle the noises in an attempt not to wake everyone on that floor of the hotel. Spencer's gaze was locked on the way her ass rippled with each thrust, a look of pure ecstasy on his face as his brows pinched together and his mouth hung open.

"S-Spence— I'm so close—" Y/N whimpered, burying her face into the pillow beneath her as she moaned helplessly.

He dragged one of his hands away from where it was squeezing her hip, shoving it between her hips and the pillow propping her up as he began to stroke her clit in time with his thrusts. "Let go, sweet girl. Cum around my cock. Show me how good I make you feel."

She cried out at that, thrashing underneath him as the tension coiling in her lower belly finally snapped. Spencer's hips stuttered, a guttural moan wrenching its way from his throat as she squeezed around him, her legs trembling as one of the most powerful orgasms she'd ever experienced washed over her in waves.

"God— fuck, I'm about to cum," Spencer grunted, his eyes squeezing shut briefly as he swallowed hard, his chest heaving with exertion as he fucked her through it. "Where do you want it, pretty girl?"

"Wanna taste you... Spence, please—" Y/N slurred beneath him, weakly pushing up on her elbows to turn and look at him over her shoulder. Her bottom lip was swollen and lightly bruised from how hard she'd been biting at it, and her eyes were watery with unshed tears as the pleasure began to overwhelm her.

The sight of her looking so ruined almost had him spilling inside of her, and with a muffled curse he pulled out of her, fisting his cock as she rolled onto her back and stuck her tongue out patiently. He shuffled up her body, bracing himself with one hand against the headboard as he gazed down at her reverently. The amusement he felt from the brief feeling of deja vu from having her in a similar position earlier that night was short-lived as his head tipped back, a strained whimper filling the air as her tongue brushed against the head of his cock.

It only took a few pumps for him to cum, his eyes rolling back into his head when she sat up to take him further into her mouth as rope after rope of his essence flooded her throat. Y/N sucked gently, working him through his orgasm until his hips were jerking and he was whining, pulling off of his softening cock with a slick 'pop'. He crumpled onto the bed next to her, his heart pounding almost painfully against his ribcage as he struggled to catch his breath.

Spencer wrapped her tightly in his arms, his lips brushing against the top of her head with soft, repeated kisses. Between each tender touch, he murmured how incredible she made him feel, how he couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to share this life with her, let alone love her the way he did. Y/N whispered back, her voice soft but full of conviction, telling him how deeply she cherished him and how every part of her was filled with love for him.

Her fingers idly traced patterns across the flushed skin of his chest until he caught her hand, pressing tender kisses to her knuckles before quietly slipping out of bed. She groaned petulantly as he pulled her to her feet, ushering her towards the bathroom with a pat to her butt and a mumbled but passionate lecture on the timeframe after sex in which she needed to pee to avoid getting a UTI. Even though she knew he was right, she still rolled her eyes as she trudged into the bathroom. She decided to brush her teeth while she was there as well, giggling to herself at the thought of kissing Spencer with the taste of him still in her mouth.

When she stepped out, Spencer had changed the sheets and set a bottle of water on the nightstand, flashing a drowsy grin as she slipped into bed next to him and turned the lamp out. "What's all this about?" she teased, her smile breaking into a yawn.

"I'm taking care of you, just like I said I would."

It didn’t take long for exhaustion to settle in, both of them murmuring good nights between soft kisses. As they drifted off together, Y/N felt certain he would be taking care of her for the rest of his life—and she was just as sure that she would do the same for him.

Continued A/N's: Happy (late) start to December!! I really hope you guys enjoy this :') I plan on doing a little something (maybe, possibly ;) ) for Christmas, so stay tuned for updates on what that little something may be. Also, a loving reminder that my requests are open! :) <3 K

REMINDER: I do NOT give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, Tiktok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

[samsmissingshoee]

ANGEL — SAM WINCHESTER.

SUMMARY — sam starts to grow fond of an angel. they have grown more comfortable around each other, and tensions run high when dean leaves for a bar.

WARNINGS — no plot all porn... 18+, softdom!sam, unprotected sex, p in v, oral, f!receiving, unexperienced!reader, angel!reader, LOTS of praise, biting, creampie, mentions of religion, sam's a sweetheart. he's also a freak.

WC — 4.3k. i got carried away.

A/N — i feel like i'm going to hell just from the warnings alone. i erm. i don't even know. shout out the two people who asked to get tagged in this 🙏 first ever smut fic, if you hate i'll probably delete my account. i am not editing 4.3k words btw. i'm lazy.

angels weren't supposed to enjoy the feeling of a human. that much was well known.

and when you came from heaven to assist castiel in whatever the hell it was that he was doing, that was repeated to you over and over again. these 'humans', they weren't important. your only job was to make sure sam winchester didn't get hurt. that was all this was supposed to be. a casual round of protecting the winchesters.

you didn't understand human norms, and at first, sam didn't like you. you didn't take personally, of course, because, well, sam hated any angel at first. castiel quickly explained to you about the brother's and how you'd be spending more time with them while he awaited directions. honestly, you couldn't care less about either of the brothers, too. they were hunters, and you were an angel. you weren't supposed to mix anyway.

sam winchester was more interesting than his older and shorter brother, though. sam was thoughtful and a lot more curious about you than he let on at first. as you spent more time 'watching' over him, you realized he enjoyed asking you questions about heaven, and the angels, and about castiel. and you tried to answer them to the best of your ability.

sam was more open to learning about you than dean, and he was more considerate when it came to teaching you knew things. slowly, he started defending you against dean's antics, and he learned about how curious you were, too.

he spent many late nights awake with you, struggling with his insomnia. you made it much more enjoyable. on the off chance that he did get some sleep, he'd wake up to you in the bunker, lounging and reading one of his books. as soon as you saw him awake, you'd pounce on him, eager to talk all about it.

sam found you endearing in the same way you found him intriguing. you both taught each other different things. he taught you about different emotions and how to communicate them to him. he showed you his favorite movies. he told you about his time in standford and about how he was studying law. you taught him about the bible, about praying and how you'd always come if he prayed for you. you taught him about heaven and hell, and angels and everything in between.

eventually, you two become friends, as much as younger sam would have hated to admit that. he showed you what friendship was and what it was like to worry about someone more than yourself. he explained to you what love was and about heartbreak. sam watched as you turned from this unemotional, blunt angel into a person, crafted by the things you loved.

you two kissed about six months after hunting with him. you were unexerienced, and painfully so, and your first kiss was nothing but giggles and awkward stares. the second, third, and fourth ones weren't any better. sam was ridiculously dotting and patient, and even though you were an angel and didn't understand what a relationship was, you still tried for him, and he loved you for it.

after a week of sneaky kisses and rushing into each other's rooms once dean fell asleep, you seemed to have gotten the hang of it. you and sam hadn't done anything remotely sexual other than a few hands-under-the-bra's and one /bad/ attempt at a handjob. sam was enthralled in watching you become more confident and learning how to touch him the way that he liked and how to kiss him properly. so he didn't mind taking things slow.

you two agreed to not have sex yet, partially because to you, it was a sin, and partially because you didn't know what you were doing. sam had no issue waiting. that was, until tonight.

you don't even remember how this happened, honestly — the lingering touches became more frequent, more needy, and at some point, sam had slipped you out of your shirt and bra. you'd barely even made it to his room /thank god for dean being out at a bar tonight/, before he was kissing you, his lips hiding something more intense tonight.

you wouldn't have protested anyways, but as soon as your shirt was gone, sam was all over you.

"i know it feels dirty, honey. but it's not. i wouldn't lie to you." sam hums against your throat, kissing the soft skin. when he talks like that, all low and soothing, you might just believe anything he says. he pulls back to look at your concerned expression, and his smile softens.

his movement stills, and you frown, almost wishing sam would convince you to do more. that feeling in your stomach, the one that felt close to nausea, started to feel nice. and you craved more of it. you craved more of sam.

although his desire outweighed his guilt for ruining the purity of an angel like this, sam still sat up for a moment, his hazel eyes practically begging you. he was nothing, if not a gentleman. "do you want this?" sam asks, hushed and spoken like a prayer, and you think you might get sent to hell just from how he's looking at you.

sam's hair is a ruffled mess, and his long sleeve black shirt was rolled up to his elbows. his carhartt jacket had long been discarded by you, tossed somewhere into the dark abyss that was the dingy, horribly lit motel room. he looks beautiful.

"i do, sammy, but—" you breathe out shakily. before you can finish answering, his hands are on your hips, tugging you closer to him. you're both standing up, his large hands moving up your skirt to trail up your sides. sam can feel your back arch against his hands slightly, and it's taking everything in him to not lose his resolve.

san, who previously said he was okay with waiting, felt like a selfish man tonight. he could honestly care less about your innocence right now. what he did care about was you, though. sam knew that if you wanted him to continue, he wouldn't be able to stop.

"but what?" sam mumbled, his fingertips digging against your hips. his erection was pressed dangerously against your thigh. he shifted you until you were pressed against him — he knew what he was doing and the effect it was having on you. you didn't answer and could only grumble a complaint out.

"just needa taste you, honey. we don't have to go all the way if you don't want to." sam's words are a contradiction to how he was staring at you. "although, i have thought about doing more." he hums, and he has a slight shit eating grin on his face. it's sort of surprising that this is your sweet sammy.

you're conflicted— this is wrong. sinful. but there was a bubbling heat in your stomach, and you wanted nothing more than to make sam feel good. maybe a part of being human was indulging in your sins. you pout at him slightly, and sam has to stop himself from moving his hips up against you. he doesn't just want this, he needs this. he needs to corrupt you, to ruin your innocence until all you can think about is him.

"fine. be gentle, though, sam. i mean it." you relent, although you didn't need much convincing. honestly, if he tried to pull off of you, you'd be the one begging him to touch you and not the other way around.

"oh, fuck—" sam groans, and he almost instantly falls to his knees. his hands are tugging off your jeans faster than you can process. "you don't know how long i've wanted this." his tone makes you feel dirty, and you can't help when your brows crumple into a slight glare. you didn't know what he was doing, but you wanted him to hurry it up.

you help him kick your jeans off around your ankles and step out of them. you're left in your cotton panties, and for some reason, it turns sam on more to know you weren't planning for this. honestly, neither was he.

"leave these on." two fingers slip underneath the elastic by your thigh, tugging them and letting them go, the fabric snapping against your skin. the action makes you suck in a breath. sam's lips make their way to your upper thighs, sucking and kissing at the sensitive skin. it's not enough, and he knows that. he's driving you crazy on purpose to see you squirm for him.

"sam—" you chastise, like a scold, your hand running through his hair and tugging on it gently, trying to bring your hips closer to him. sam fucking moans. he moans at getting his hair pulled, and it makes your brows crease in bewilderment. /you would definitely be keeping that in mind./

sam looks up at you with those same puppydog eyes, and you swear you're going to burst into literal flames and have your wings removed instantly. "needa taste my girl's pussy. y'gonna let me?" sam says softly, his voice muffled by your thigh, gently biting on a spot. when you whimper, he pulls back to kiss at the forming bruise, his hands massaging at the fat of your ass.

truth be told, you'd probably let him fold into a pretzel at this point, but you didn't want to stroke his massive ego.

the noise you make is answer enough, and sam deftly pulls your panties to the side. his hand brings yours to hold them. he needs *both* hands for devouring you. sam's two middle fingers move to collect your slick from your folds, and you shiver. his brows raise, and he smiles again. "you're soaked, baby. you really want me that bad?" he asks, and you're nodding quickly.

sam can't hold back when you look this pretty above him. you can feel his breath against you. even just looking at you bare in front of him is enough to make him want to cum in his fucking jeans.

he flattens his tongue against you, and your hips stutter against his mouth. you've never felt anything like this before. you can feel sam's grin against your cunt, his hands cupping into your ass and pulling your hips further into his mouth.

seeing such a large man, especially one like sam, at his knees, lapping at your pussy like a fucking starved man— it makes your head fuzzy.

without warning, his middle finger slips into you. your hands move to his hair to steady yourself, massaging at the brown strands, pushing some from off his sticky forehead. the concentration on his face is almost cute, but it soon becomes too hard to keep your eyes open.

another finger slips past your folds, and you're mouthing his name like a prayer. his fingers are rocking into you at a slow speed, but his mouth— it was fucking dirty, the way he'd suck on your clit, only pulling away to breathe. everytime he pulled away, a string of saliva followed, connected between you two. his chin was slick with your arousal, his chest panting with heavy breaths. and then he was right back to devouring you.

maybe sam winchester was the devil.

your hands tug on his hair slightly, and sam groans against you. the heat in your stomach was building and sam was near drunk on your pussy. when he looked up at you with those hazel eyes, you moaned, your thighs tremoring.

"sam— sam, it feels too good... please—" you breathed out, panting too now, and sam didn't relent, no matter how hard you were tugging at his hair. his hand was holding your hip hard not daring to let you squirm away from him. indents of his fingertips would ruin your pretty skin by the morning. you had to shy away from his intense gaze.

sam pulled away, still fucking his fingers into you. "eyes on me, baby." he mumbled, before sinking flush against your clit again. you listened, although your face was an embarrassing hue of pink. sam was just as loud and needy, if not worse than you. everytime your thighs clenched around him, or you tugged on his hair, profanities and groans slipped from his lips. he needed you.

sam kept his tongue latched onto you, his eyes showing that he was as desperate as you were to make you cum. the noises he was making were filth, soft grunts and groans, all muffled by your puffy pussy. when your eyes flickered down, you noticed that one of his hands were palming himself through his jeans.

with every shake and spasm, it was like sam knew you were close. he was using his hands to rock your hips more onto his tongue, your weight practically suffocating him. sam would gladly die a happy man in between your folds, if it meant getting to look up at your beautiful face contorting in pleasure. his chest swells at the fact that he is the one who gets to touch you like this.

that feeling returned as quickly as it left, and soon you were cumming on his face, your legs shaking as he kept his fingers curled into your folds. that was probably the best thing you'd felt since coming to earth. sam pressed a kiss to your overstimulated clit, before kissing up your stomach, your breasts, collarbone, and finally standing to his full height over you.

"how was that?" sam asks, licking the wetness off his fingers. as much as he wanted to ruin you, he also wanted to make sure you were comfortable.

heavy pants still wracked both of your bodies, your thighs aching and barely able to hold your own weight. he had the audacity to ask that after making you feel things you hadn't felt in your centuries alive? in between deep breaths, you shot him a slight glare.

"what do you think?" you tutted, puffing his lips out in that gorgeous pout that made sam was to kiss you stupid, holding onto his biceps so you didn't lose balance.

sam grins in response, his hands moving to your bare hips, pressing you into him. his cock was fucking painfully hard and he had to refrain from rutting against you. "i need to fuck you, honey." fuck sam and his beautiful eyes, pleading at you. his hand leads your to palm him from over his jeans, and he moans softly, so prettily.

you were conflicted. you knew his cock would feel so much better than his fingers, but this was wrong. "sammy—" you say in the same chastising voice that drives him insane.

"please, let me fuck you. need to feel you around my dick. fuck, doesn't even have to be all the way." sam pleads, and you have a hard time saying no to that. he was practically begging you. you sigh at how weak you were for this man. "please fuck me, sam."

sam eyes widen slightly, and he can't help his grin as he pushes you back against the bed. his eyes stay on you as he pulls his shirt off, discarding it across the motel floor along with all of yours. you can't help but stare at him. all tanned, scarred, and bruised, despite being young. it was so different compared to your imperfect skin, free of any blemishes or let alone scars.

sam's tantalizingly slow as he takes off his belt, followed by his jeans. he's fucking huge. that much you can tell by his bulge alone. your eyes widen slightly when he strips his boxers off.

he wanted to take his time with you, to treat you like the goddamn angel you were, to wrack every noise he can from your lips. but, sam was impatient as hell. and he was really, really hard.

"you're beautiful." sam coos, caging you in between his much larger frame. there is a shine in his gaze, so soft and loving, that it almost makes you feel queasy. he's not doing this because he's bored or because he wants to get off. sam's doing this because you're his world.

"you're alright." you respond, not able to hold back the giggle that escaped your lips afterward, especially when you felt sam's annoyed sigh against the crook of your neck. you can feel his irritated grin. sam fell in love with that devilish laugh of yours, and he found it endearing that even during this, he could make you sound like that.

it was such a sharp contrast from how emotionless and... awkward— you first were when you met the winchester brothers. sam has loved watching you adapt this sassy personality, loved eyeing you while you admire new things, hearing the way your voice heightened whenever you laughed, the way you took over parts of his and dean's own quirks and personalities.

"just alright? you wound me, angel."

this time, you rolled your eyes. you turn your head to the side to press your lips against the mole below his right eye. "you're beautiful too, sammy. you already know that." you huff out, your tone unmistakably soft. sam scoffed, nipping at her neck slightly. it was nice to hear that from you, regardless of what he thought about himself.

unfortunately for you, the compliment rushes to sam's head. he sits up slightly, his cock pressed against your lower stomach, a hand brushing over your cheek, moving your fanned hair out of your face. "are you sure you're okay with this? we can stop— i'll put on a movie, and we can forget—"

you interrupt sam's worries by pressing a kiss to his palm. "yes sam, i'm sure. please." and that small act of intimacy followed by your voice pleading for him was enough reassurance for sam. no need to tell him twice.

sam pumps himself a few times, his eyes not once leaving yours. "scoot your hips up for me, honey." you oblige, and you can feel his cock pressed against your clothed entrance. the sight leaves nothing for the imagination and sam sighs as his fingers pulls your panties down to your ankles.

sam looks like he's in fucking heaven, his lips parted and staring at you bare in front of him. his thumb habitually moves to your clit, rubbing soft circles against it just to watch you squirm under him.

"sam, quit being a damn tease." you frown and wiggle your hips into his more. his gaze is making you shy, something you didn't know was even possible as an angel.

"innocent angel, my ass." sam mumbles under his breath, but he obliges, lining up his cock to you. he collects your slick with his tip, dragging the wetness over your already overstimulated clit. sam rubs it against your folds a few times, before pressing only about halfway in. the moan that leaves your lips is heavenly, so much so that sam's head has to fall to your shoulder and bites it softly so he doesn't cum too fast like a damn high schooler.

"you're so fucking tight, shit—" sam groans and it's so dirty coming from him. he's usually so sweet to you, so hearing this is different. and arousing. but different. you'd expect this talk out of dean, not sam.

sam really wished he would've slept around a little more in college now because it was taking far too much concentration to not finish already.

"need to fuck you, baby. please." sam all but whimpers out. all of your beliefs, your nightly prayers, all of it was gone the second you felt him inside of you. you can only nod in response, your hands tugging at his waist to come closer to you.

sam stills, looking at you for a moment like he can't believe you want this. and slowly, he pushes in all the way, and you both share a pornographic moan.

sam is quiet as he lets you adjust to his size. he wasn't one to toot his own horn, but he was pretty big. and even though your vessel wasn't a virgin, mentally, you still were. sam had a mantra of things going through his head — the main ones being: please don't cum, please don't cum, please don't cum. don't say i love you. don't move too fast yet. let her adjust.

sam leans down to kiss your forehead. "good?" he hums.

you nod again. "hurts a little." and sam is nothing but patient, kissing each of your temples before brushing your hair away.

"i promise you're doing so good. it's gonna hurt for a moment. it'll feel better soon. just relax." sam murmured against your shoulder, his lips sighing down towards your collarbone. "gonna move now, sweet girl." calloused palms are pressing your thighs to your chest. he leans down enough so you can hold on to his shoulders if you need.

with one hand still on the back of your leg, and the other one cupping one of your breasts, he pulls out almost all the way before rocking in slowly. your eyes screwing shut from pleasure is enough to test the waters with a more heavy thrust. "that's it, baby. look at you—" sam groans, his fingertips digging into your skin. his eyes were glued to where his cock was entering you rhythmically, and god, he could get addicted to that sight. sam could fucking see where the tip of his cock was pressing into your belly. his palm moved over it, adding slight pressure to your lower pelvis. the feeling made him groan out your name softly. he was just as loud as you were. "so beautiful."

part of you wanted sam to shut up so you could focus on the feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock, but the other half of you enjoyed the flithy words leaving his flushed lips.

"oh, fuck. sammy, 's too much—" you whimpered out, your hand squeezing his biceps. your legs wrapped around his waist to bring him closer, the balls of your heels digging against his ass. sam think he likes that you're not very vocal. it makes every beg, every moan that much more special to him. he was the only one who got to see his angel falling apart like this.

everything about sam is fucking massive, from his height, to his sheer size difference over you. it shouldn't have been shocking that his dick was huge too, but you felt it now. you felt every single inch, stretching you out, your arousal slipping down his shaft. sam's thrusts grew more feverish, his shaggy brown bangs falling into his face as his head fell forward slightly. "i know you can handle it baby." he grunted in response to your plea, hazel eyes fucked out with lust.

that feeling in your lower belly returned, and now, at least, you know what it meant. it was overwhelming, but not enough for you. your hand reached for sam's hand, guiding it to you clit. sam thought that was the hottest thing he'd ever fucking seen, and shuddered slightly. "you wanna cum around my cock? is that it, sweetheart?" sam asks, a small, contemplating smile on his lips.

you're writhing under his cock, your back arching off the bed, his thumb rubbing soft circles around your nub. you tap his bicep in warning of your approaching orgasm, but he doesn't stop. he doesn't slow down either. in fact, he ruts his hips faster. the feeling of you clenching around his dick is enough to send him over the edge, too. he's biting down hard on his cheek to stop himself from cumming before you. he wants, needs to see you cum first, before he can.

your face contorts into pleasure, and you cum hard, sam still fucking you through your orgasm. he groans and his eyes close when he watches you making a mess all over him. "thaaat's it. that's my girl." he encourages, the feeling of your walls clenching around him tipping him over the edge. "fuck. gonna fill you up." he grunts against your shoulder, his hips stuttering slightly and you moan as you feel his cock twitch inside you, before you feel cum spurt into your cunt.

sam pulls out a moment after, his eyes blown out when he watches his spend leak from your pulsating hole. he uses two fingers to spread it around over your folds. once he's satisfied with his handiwork, he slumps down into the bed next to you.

you're still a panting, sighing mess. you feel your legs twitch occasionally, and you're finally coming to your senses. you were just fucked stupid by your best friend. a human.

"jesus, sam. is this really what humans are doing?" you ask, out of genuine curiosity, and sam pinches your side with a slight laugh. he looks spent, almost as bad as you. his head falls to your shoulder, pressing his lips to the soft skin present.

"the lucky ones, yeah." sam huffs in amusement. "you're okay, right? i didn't hurt you, or pressure you or anything?" his voice is a little persistent, worried, already overthinking like he wasn't just inside of you.

"'course not. that was amazing. i think i'd go to hell if it meant having sex everyday— i see why castiel was encouraging me into trying this." you tilt your head to the side, and sam raises an eyebrow. he didn't even dare ask what odd things castiel told you about. nor did he want to know. he couldn't see castiel doing anyone without scaring them away with his bluntness first.

sam chooses to ignore that, leaning over to pepper kisses onto your cheeks, nose, and forehead. anywhere you'll let him at this point. "you did amazing. absolutely drained me. y'sure you haven't done that before?" he teases, and you roll your eyes at him. your eyes watched him with concern when sam stood.

"alright, crazy girl. let's get you cleaned up."

[aceyalonso]

can you stay the night? - CHARLES LECLERC

pairing : charles leclerc x bestfriend!reader

summary : you and charles had always been comfortable with each other, comfortable enough to cuddle, go out on "platonic" dates, and maybe comfortable enough to leave a toothbrush at his place

warnings/notes : swearing, y/n is kinda dense, charles is a simp, sexual innuendos, romantic stuff that they think as platonic, suggestive-ish (??) scene (no actual smut)

word count : 14.2k

song : la vie en rose - édith piaf

a/n : happy 600!!! no angst this time around :p (this fic is a bit long because ik @nepobbylver is gonna love this HAHAHAH)

masterlist

May 26, 2024 - 5:12 PM

Y/n settled against Charles, his soft blond dachshund snuggled comfortably between them as they cuddled on the couch. She ran her fingers through the dog's fur, enjoying the simple moment of comfort in his presence. Charles wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer as they continued to relax in the quiet peace.

As they continued to snuggle together, a thought occurred to Y/n. She shifted slightly, looking up at Charles with a curious expression. "You know," she began, "I have to ask. Is this really how you want to celebrate your home race win?"

Y/n paused for a moment, her fingers still idly stroking the dachshund's soft fur. "I mean, don't get me wrong, this is nice, but I was just thinking...don't you want to go out to dinner or something? You've won your home race, after all."

Charles chuckled softly, drawing her closer. "Honestly, I just wanted to spend time with you," he replied, his voice low and warm. "But if you want to go out, we can do that too."

A small smile curled Y/n's lips. "And leave this little guy all alone?" she teased, looking down at the dachshund. The dog lifted its head, as if sensing they were talking about him, and wagged its tail lazily.

Y/n couldn't help but laugh, reaching over to give Leo's head an affectionate pat. "Sorry, buddy," she said, her tone playful. "Looks like it's nap time for you. Go back to sleep."

The dachshund yawned widely, as if in response to her words, before settling back against her and closing his eyes, content to ignore them again.

Charles chuckled, watching the interaction between Y/n and Leo. "Looks like he's already got it figured out," he said, his arm still around her. "A relaxing night in might actually be the perfect way to celebrate after all."

Y/n's smile faded slightly as she looked back up at Charles. "I know, but it just feels like… you should be celebrating more, you know?" she said, her voice softly. "You just won your home race. Shouldn't you be doing something bigger than this?"

Charles sighed, a mix of resignation and affection in his voice. "Alright, alright," he said, giving in to her insistence. "If you want me to celebrate that bad, we'll go out tomorrow. We can even bring Leo along."

Y/n's face lit up with satisfied surprise. She hadn't expected him to give in so easily, but she couldn't help feeling relieved. "Really? You don't mind going out tomorrow?" she asked, almost too eagerly.

He chuckled again, amused by her eagerness. "Yeah, really," he reassured her, his arm still around her. "We can have a nicer celebration tomorrow, with dinner and whatever else you want."

She held up her hand in a prayer gesture, looking upwards as if addressing some higher power. "Thank you, oh benevolent lord," she said dramatically. "For providing me with free food tomorrow, I am eternally grateful!"

Charles rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "You're ridiculous," he said, a hint of affection in his voice. "You're getting one meal, and you act like it's a gift from the heavens."

Y/n nodded in agreement, her exaggerated gratitude fading a bit. "I mean, you're not wrong," she said, a tinge of resignation in her voice. "Monaco is not exactly wallet-friendly, especially when it comes to food. I'll take what I can get, honestly."

Charles chuckled, his hand absentmindedly stroking along the dachshund's back. "Well, don't worry," he assured her. "I'll make sure you get a proper meal tomorrow. No more scavenging for leftovers for you."

Y/n's smile waned as she gave him a playful glare. "Now you make me sound like some orphan kid begging for scraps during the Victorian era," she retorted, a hint of mock indignation in her voice.

Charles laughed heartily at her comparison. "Oh, come on," he said, his tone both amused and affectionate. "I didn't mean it like that at all. You know I'd do anything to make sure you were never hungry, Victorian era or modern day."

Y/n's mock frown softened into a genuine smile, her heart fluttering at his sweet words. "I know," she admitted, leaning against him. "But I couldn't resist the chance to give you a hard time about it."

Charles chuckled, his grip around her tightening slightly. "Of course you did," he teased. "You never miss an opportunity to give me a hard time, do you?"

Y/n burst into a dorky laugh, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Hahah, hard," she echoed, the innuendo in her tone not lost on either of them.

Charles grinned, lifting his hand to gently cover her mouth. "Maybe you should just go to sleep," he teased, pretending to sound serious. "Save the innuendos for later."

Her eyes widened, a laugh muffled against his hand. She playfully wriggled against his grip, feigning protest but not really wanting him to let go.

He chuckled, enjoyed the way she struggled against him, the playful back-and-forth between them. "Careful," he warned, his tone filled with mock severity. "Keep that up, and I might have to keep you quiet another way."

Y/n's eyes widened with mock horror, her expression over the top dramatic as she stared up at him. "Oh, lord," she gasped, in a faux-dramatic voice, "You're not going to gag me, are you?"

Charles' smile widened at her reaction, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Keep up the smart mouth, and you just might find that out," he threatened, his voice low and teasing.

She scrunched up her nose in exaggerated disgust. "Ew, Charlie, ew" she says, her tone overly dramatic. She tried to look irritated, but the playful gleam in her eyes betrayed her true feelings.

Charles laughed at her reaction, shaking his head at her dramatic display. "Oh, come on," he teased, clearly enjoying the banter. "Don't act like you wouldn't secretly love it."

Y/n shot him a mock glare, refusing to admit that he might be right. "Oh, please," she said, her tone defiant. "As if I'd enjoyed being gagged. I'm too much of a free spirit for that."

He chuckled again, his hand still placed over her mouth "Oh, you're a free spirit, alright," he agreed, enjoying the banter. "A free spirit that could probably use a little lesson in restraint."

Y/n laughed, gently maneuvering Leo off her before standing up. "Get off me, you muppet!" she playfully mimicked, her voice filled with exaggerated indignation. She stepped away from the couch, a small grin still on her face.

Charles couldn't help but chuckle at her playful exit. "Yeah, yeah," he replied, his tone amused. "Go ahead and leave, but keep in mind, I now know one surefire way to shut that smart mouth of yours."

Y/n paused for a moment, her eyebrows raising slightly. She tried to maintain her mock annoyance, but the gleam in her eyes revealed her intrigue. "Okay, and just how do you plan to do that, smart guy?"

Charles leaned back against the couch, a smug smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You really want to know?" he asked, his voice low and suggestive.

She shook her head, feigning nonchalance. "Nevermind," she said, her tone dismissive. "I need to use the bathroom anyway."

He gave her a knowing smirk as she made her escape. "Sure, go ahead," he replied, not letting her get away without a snarky comment. "But don't think I won't remember this later."

She rolled her eyes as she walked away, pretending to ignore his snarky comment. "Oh, I'm sure you will," she called back over her shoulder, disappearing down the hall towards the bathroom.

Y/n had just finished washing her hands when she suddenly opened the bathroom door. "Hey, Charlie?" she called out, her tone casual.

Charles, who was still lounging on the couch with Leo, lifted his head in response to her call. "Yeah?" he replied, curious to know what she wanted.

Y/n stepped out of the bathroom, her hands still slightly damp from washing. "Hey, so," she began, a small smile on her face. "Are we gonna order food, or do you think maybe I should make something?"

He sat up a bit on the couch, mulling over the options. "Let's order in," he decided, a lazy grin on his face. "No need to cook when we can get food delivered, right?"

She raised her eyebrows at him, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "So, you're paying, right?" she asked, her tone half sarcastic, and half-serious.

Charles chuckled at her question, knowing she expected him to pay (as per usual). "Yeah, yeah," he agreed, not really bothered by it. "I'll pay for it, don't worry your pretty little head about it."

Y/n settled back on the couch again, cradling the sleeping dachshund in her arms. "Thank you," she said, her voice soft as she cuddled with the dog. She leaned back against Charles, her hand automatically finding its way to Leo's warm, furry body.

He wrapped his arm around her, drawing her closer. He watched her fondly, enjoying the peaceful moment. "You know, most people would take advantage of my kindness and order the most expensive thing on the menu," he teased lightly.

She chuckled, running her fingers through Leo's soft fur. "Oh, I won't go too crazy," she promised, her voice filled with pretend innocence. "Just a small order of caviar and a glass of champagne, nothing too extravagant."

Charles laughed heartily at her answer. "Right, not too extravagant," he repeated, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "A small side order of caviar, she says. You're lucky I'm feeling generous tonight."

Y/n smiled at his sarcastic response, enjoying their banter. "Hey, a girl can dream, can't she?" she replied, her tone lighthearted. "A little bit of luxury every now and then never hurt anyone."

Charles chuckled, shaking his head in mock resignation. "Oh, believe me, I'm all for spoiling you," he assured her, his arm tightening around her. "Just try not to bankrupt me in the process, alright?"

She laughed, snuggling against him, her fingers still idly scratching Leo's head. "I don't think I could bankrupt you if I tried," she teased. "You're a rich F! driver in Monaco, after all. I doubt a little caviar is going to break your bank."

Charles chuckled, his hand lazily running along her arm. "Hey, don't underestimate your powers of persuasion," he warned, his tone playful. "You could convince me to buy you the moon if you tried, I'm sure."

Y/n laughed heartily, shaking her head. "Oh, the caviar was just a joke," she clarified, her tone lighthearted. "I mean, who in their right mind actually enjoys that salty, fishy stuff? It's like eating fancy seawater, if you ask me."

Charles chuckled, enjoying her commentary. "Yeah, that's a fair assessment," he agreed, nodding his head. "I'm pretty sure the only reason people eat it is because it's expensive and somehow considered posh."

She nodded in agreement, a smirk on her face. "Exactly," she said, her tone amused. "it's like a status symbol for the rich and fancy. The more you spend on it, the fancier you are."

Y/n shook her head, her smirk turning into a thoughtful expression. "Alright, enough talk about weird expensive food," she said. "What do you want to order? Pizza, Chinese, something else?"

Charles thought for a moment, considering the options. "Hmm, I'm up for anything," he replied, his hand idly tracing patterns on her arm. "What are you craving, mon ange?

She thought for a moment, her gaze wandering towards the kitchen. "I kind of feel like pizza," she admitted, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "But then again, I could go for some old-fashioned comfort food like mac and cheese."

He nodded in agreement, his hand still trailing up and down her arm. "Pizza sounds good," Charles said, his voice casual. "And honestly, mac and cheese isn't a bad idea either. We could get both if you want."

Y/n looked up at him, a hopeful expression on her face. "Really?" she asked, her voice tinged with excitement. "You'd let me get both pizza and mac and cheese?"

Charles chuckled at her eager expression, unable to resist her excitement. "Sure, why not?" he replied, his tone indulgent. "We can have a bit of everything. No need to limit ourselves, right? Especially when I'm paying for it."

Y/n's eyes lit up, her smile widening at his agreement. "Oh, thank you!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. "I promise I won't get too carried away. We can get pizza and mac and cheese, and maybe a side of mozzarella sticks for good measure."

Charles laughed heartily at her enthusiasm, loving the way she got excited over food. "Mozzarella sticks?" he repeated, his tone amused. "Now you're pushing it. But, since you asked so nicely, I suppose we can get some mozzarella sticks as well."

Y/n grinned, her excitement growing with each added food item. "You're the best!" she declared, snuggling closer to him. "I swear, you give in too easily. All I have to do is bat my eyelashes and say 'please' and you're wrapped around my finger."

He chuckled, his arm encircling her waist. "I can't help it," he admitted, his tone fond. "You're too damn cute when you get excited about food. How could I resist giving you what you want?"

She smiled slyly, a hint of gloating in her expression. "See? I knew it," she teased, poking him in the side. "You're a softie, deep down. All I have to do is ask nicely and you'll cave."

Charles snorted, feigning offense. "Softie?" he retorted, his tone lighthearted. "I prefer the term 'indulgent' when it comes to you. I just like making you happy, that's all."

Y/n's smirk widened, her hand coming up to poke his chest playfully. "Indulgent, softie, whatever you want to call it," she teased, her voice filled with affection, "the point is, you can't say no to me. And you know what? I love it."

Charles laughed, shaking his head at her teasing. "Yeah, yeah, you win," he conceded, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I admit it, I can't say no to you. Especially when you look at me all cute and expectantly, begging for pizza and mac and cheese."

Y/n nodded, a satisfied smile on her face. "And mozzarella sticks," she added, her tone firm. "Don't forget the mozzarella sticks. I can't have pizza and mac and cheese without some fried cheesy goodness on the side, can I?"

She thought for a moment before turning to Charles. "And can we get some soda?" she asked, her voice hopeful. "You know, to wash down all this unhealthy food we're about to consume."

Charles grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Of course, we can get some soda too," he agreed, chuckling at her request. "We need something other than water to balance out all this greasy, delicious goodness."

Y/n smiled victoriously, clearly satisfied with his willingness to indulge her. "Yay, soda!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with childish excitement. "You know, I could get used to this whole 'getting whatever I want when I ask nicely' thing."

Charles chuckled, his hand giving her a playful tap on the head. "Oh, don't get used to it," he warned, his tone jokingly stern. "I have a feeling I'm going to regret spoiling you so much."

She laughed, leaning into his touch. "Oh, come on," she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "You know you love spoiling me. Admit it, you secretly enjoy it when I bat my eyelashes and ask for things."

Charles didn't bother denying her accusations; he knew she was right. He simply chuckled, choosing to indulge her playful banter instead. "You know me so well, don't you?" he said, his voice filled with affectionate amusement.

Y/n grinned, her smile widening as he acknowledged her observation. "I have a sixth sense for these things," she teased, her tone filled with mock self-importance. "I know when you're secretly enjoying spoiling me, even if you won't admit it."

May 26, 2024 - 8:12 PM

Charles groaned, his hand resting on his stomach. "Oh, I'm so full," he lamented, his voice tinged with mock despair. "I shouldn't have had that fourth slice of pizza, but it was just so good."

Y/n sat next to him, her own hand on her stomach as well. "I know what you mean," she agreed, her voice slightly strained. "I swear I can feel my stomach expanding. But you know what? It was worth every single bite."

She laughed heartily, her stomach feeling more and more stuffed. "You're right," she agreed, her voice tinged with reluctance. "We should probably clean up before all this grease and sauce dries up."

Charles groaned again, his hand still resting on his stomach. "Ugh, I don't wanna move," he protested, his voice filled with exaggerated laziness. "Can't we just take a little food coma nap first?"

She chuckled at his melodramatic reaction, shaking her head. "As much as I'd love to join you in your food coma, we should probably clean up first," she reasoned, her tone slightly authoritative. "Otherwise, we'll regret it later when everything's dried up and stuck to the plates."

Y/n had just stood up, plates in hand, when Charles gently pulled her back down next to him. She looked at him with a mix of surprise and confusion, her hand hovering in the air where the plate had been a moment ago.

Charles placed the plates back onto the table and pulled Y/n closer to him, his head coming to rest on her shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her, his body relaxed against hers, seeking comfort in her proximity.

Y/n didn't resist his pull, instead leaning into his touch. She reached up, her hand gently caressing his hair, her fingers running through the messy strands. "You know, you're just using me as a pillow now," she teased, her voice soft and affectionate.

He chuckled, his eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of her fingers in his hair. "Can you blame me?" he asked, his tone lighthearted. "You're so comfortable, and I can't be bothered to move right now."

Y/n sighed contently, her fingers continuing to play with his hair. "You're just being lazy," she retorted, her tone fond. "But I guess I can be your cozy pillow for a little while longer."

Charles smiled, his body relaxing even more as her fingers continued their soothing caress. "Good," he mumbled, nuzzling his head further into her shoulder. "I could stay like this forever."

She chuckled as Leo padded over to them, his furry little body weaving between their legs. "Hey, little guy," she greeted the dachshund, reaching down to pet him. "Did you enjoy your food too?"

Leo, his belly full and content, simply looked up at Y/n with his innocent little eyes. He wagged his tail happily, clearly content after his own feast.

Charles laughed, his head still resting on Y/n's shoulder. "Looks like Leo was just as successful at stuffing his face as we were," he commented. "He's got that satisfied, slightly bloated look for sure."

Y/n laughed, her hand still running through Charles' hair. "You can say that again," she agreed, her tone light. "I don't think I've ever seen a puppy eat that much. He's like a little vacuum cleaner."

She scooped up Leo, the dog happily settling on Charles' lap. Then she turned to Charles, her tone more serious. "Actually, I should really get going and start cleaning up all this mess," she said, gesturing to the collection of plates and takeout containers on the coffee table.

Charles groaned again, his hand still resting on his stomach. "But I'm so comfortable here," he protested, his voice laced with mock protest. "Can't it wait just a little longer?"

Y/n chuckled at his protest, her tone firm but affectionate. "No, no, you relax," she insisted, standing up again. "You did pay for the food, after all. I'll take care of cleaning up."

Charles watched her as she stood up, a pout on his face. "Are you sure?" he asked, his tone reluctant. "I feel bad just sitting here while you do all the work."

Y/n smiled at his concern, her tone gentle yet firm. "It's alright, Charlie," she reassured him. "I can handle this. You just stay put and digest all that food we ate."

Charles relented, his pout turning into a resigned smile. "You're too nice to me," he admitted, his hand rubbing his stomach again. "But alright, I'll stay here and try not to fall asleep."

May 26, 2024 - 8:30 PM

Y/n wiped her hands on the towel, and a satisfied smile appeared on her face. The dishes were clean, the leftover food was packed away, and the coffee table looked presentable again. "There, all done," she announced, her voice slightly tired but content.

She heard a soft, gentle snoring sound as she walked closer to the couch. She chuckled softly, her eyes falling upon Charles. He was fast asleep, his head lolling back against the couch, his mouth slightly open.

Y/n couldn't help but smile at the adorable sight. Leo was sleeping peacefully, his tiny body nestled in Charles' lap. His little paws were tucked beneath him, and his tail was twitching slightly as he dreamt.

Charles, on the other hand, was in a deep sleep, his face relaxed and peaceful. His chest rose and fell with each slow, steady breath he took. It was a sweet, innocent sight to behold.

Y/n settled down on the floor beside Charles, her elbow resting on the cushion of the couch, her face close to his. She looked at him, her eyes soft and content. The soft snoring filled the room, creating a soothing background noise.

She smiled, her eyes still on Charles. She knew all too well how exhausting race days could be for him. The physical and mental energy he expended was immense. It was no wonder he was sleeping so soundly right now.

Charles stirring in his sleep caught Y/n off guard. Suddenly, his hand moved and accidentally smacked Y/n in the face. It wasn't a hard hit, but it was enough to make her slightly recoil.

"Ouch!" Y/n exclaimed, her hand instinctively going to her face where Charles' hand had made contact. She rubbed her cheek softly, a mix of surprise and confusion on her face. "Charlie, wake up. You hit me in the damn face."

Charles roused from his sleep, his eyes slowly fluttering open. He looked blearily at Y/n, still slightly groggy. "What?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. "What happened?"

Y/n chuckled, her hand still on her face. "You accidentally hit me in the face while you were asleep," she explained, her tone light-hearted. "Looks like you were dreaming about a boxing match or something."

He blinked, his mind slowly catching up to what Y/n was saying. "I did what?" he asked, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Oh no, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

She laughed gently, shaking her head to reassure him. "It's fine, I'm okay," she chuckled, her hand still massaging her cheek. "You didn't hit me that hard. But maybe you should watch your hands next time you're dreaming about boxing."

Charles stretched his arms, a tired yawn escaping his lips. "Yeah, I guess I should head to bed," he agreed, his voice groggy. "I'm feeling pretty beat after that food coma."

He rubbed his eyes, then turned to Y/n. "Oh, and make sure you use my bathroom to freshen up," he reminded her, his voice still tinged with sleepiness. "You can use whatever you need in there."

Y/n looked up at Charles, a quizzical expression on her face. "Why can't I use the guest bathroom?" she asked, her tone slightly puzzled.

Charles sighed, rubbing his eyes again. "Right, I forgot to tell you," he mumbled, his voice tired but apologetic. "The guest bathroom's pipes need fixing. Can't use that one. Gotta use mine tonight."

She nodded in understanding, her eyes meeting his. "Alright, no problem," she said, a small smile on her face. "I'll use yours then. I don't want to be without a shower tonight."

He returned her smile, his eyes filled with exhaustion but also affection. "Thanks for understanding," he murmured. "Goodnight, and enjoy my bathroom."

Y/n watched him go, her eyes lingering on his sleepy form as he headed down the hallway to his bedroom. She smiled to herself, feeling a mixture of affection and amusement at Charles' tired but sweet gesture.

May 26, 2024 - 11:38 PM

Y/n sat on the bed, scrolling through her phone in the guest bedroom. She glanced at the clock on the wall and noticed the time was 11:38 pm. Realizing it was getting late, she decided it was time to get ready for bed. The thought of a relaxing, warm bath sounded perfect right then.

She gathered her small toiletry bag, a fresh towel, and a change of clothes. She quietly walked out of the guest bedroom and headed down the hallway to Charles' bedroom. Upon reaching his room, she gently turned the doorknob, not wanting to wake him if he was still asleep.

Charles' voice came from inside the room, his tone groggy but awake. "You can come in," he mumbled, his words slightly muffled by his pillow. "I'm awake."

Y/n smiled slightly, grateful that he was awake and ready for her. She pushed open the door and stepped inside, her eyes immediately adjusting to the dim lighting in the room.

Charles was lying in his bed, propped up against the pillows, his hair was tousled and his eyes slightly heavy with sleep. Despite his sleepy appearance, he was watching her as she entered. "You're taking a bath?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

Y/n nodded, holding up her toiletry bag and towel. "Yeah, thought it would help me relax before bed," she replied, her tone soft. "Is it okay if I use your bathroom for a bit?"

Charles nodded, a sleepy smile on his lips. "Sure, take your time," he reassured her, his voice slightly hoarse from sleep. "You can use the bathroom as long as you need."

She smiled in appreciation, and his kind words made her feel more comfortable. "Thanks," she said, her tone grateful. "I won't be too long. I just want to unwind a little before bed."

Y/n walked into the bathroom, her toiletry bag clutched in her hand. The soft glow of the bathroom lights illuminated the room as she entered, the door closing behind her with a soft click.

She set her things down on the counter, her mind already contemplating the warm, relaxing bath she was about to enjoy. The bathroom was neat and spacious, the fixtures and tiles gleaming in the soft light. The ambiance was quietly soothing, perfect for a late-night dip.

She turned on the faucet, allowing the water to run in the bathtub, creating a soothing, gentle sound that filled the bathroom. Steam began to rise, the room slowly filling with a warm, comforting humidity. The bathroom was now a miniature sauna, perfect for relaxing tense muscles and calming the mind.

After a few moments, the tub was filled to a comfortable level, bubbles foaming on the surface of the water. Y/n tested the water with her hand, ensuring that the temperature was just right. Then, she turned off the faucet and started to undress, her clothes being neatly folded and placed on the counter.

As Y/n stepped into the tub, the warmth of the water enveloped her. She sank into the bubbles, a sigh of contentment escaping her lips. The stress of the day, and the tiredness in her body, all seemed to melt away as she immersed herself in the soothing water. Her eyes closed, her limbs relaxed, and her mind started to unwind.

The steam curled around her, the scent of bath oil mingling with the warm, moist air. She lay back, the water lapping gently at her neck. A few moments passed, the only sound in the bathroom being the soft, gentle splashes of water. Y/n felt her thoughts drift further and further away, her body becoming more and more relaxed as she luxuriated in the tranquility of the moment.

Her mind wandered, memories, and thoughts coming and going gently like a light breeze. The rest of the world seemed distant as if nothing could disturb this blissful sanctuary. She closed her eyes, her breathing slowing, and her body utterly surrendered to the comfort of the water. Time seemed to stand still, her mind floating in a contented blur.

The soothing warmth of the water and the tranquility of the room lulled Y/n into a doze, her mind and body completely relaxed. She lost track of time, her thoughts drifting further and further away until she slipped into a light sleep, the bubbles and steam gently surrounding her.

However, the peaceful moment lasted only a few short minutes. The sound of the bathroom door opening gently roused her from her doze, the sound bringing her back to reality. Y/n's eyes fluttered open, blinking away the daze as she focused on the figure in the doorframe.

The bathroom door had opened, allowing a sliver of light from the outside to fall across the tile floor. Charles stood in the doorway, a slight frown on his face. He hadn't intended to disturb her, but his need for the bathroom had grown too great to ignore.

His hair was a disheveled mess, and his eyes were still half-closed with sleep. He tried to look away, to give her some privacy, but his voice betrayed his concern. "Sorry," he muttered, his tone soft and gravelly. "Just really need to go... I didn't mean to wake you up."

Y/n stirred, pushing up from the water. The bubbles clinging to her form, she sat up in the tub, her eyes on Charles. "It's okay," she reassured him, her voice still tinged with sleep. "I dozed off for a bit. I'll get out in a minute."

Charles hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting away and back to her. He tried to keep his eyes from wandering too far down, but the sight of her in the tub was a bit distracting. "You're sure?" he asked, his voice a bit hoarse. "I... I can wait."

Y/n chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the confines of the bathroom. "No, it's fine," she reassured him, her tone light but firm. "You need to go, I can get out."

She quickly grasped her towel and wrapped it around herself, securing it at her chest. Charles turned his gaze away, respecting her modesty. He kept his back to her, giving her the privacy she needed.

The sound of her getting out of the tub made a slight splashing sound, the water shifting as she rose. She stepped out onto the bath mat, her hair slightly damp, and the towel clinging to her form.

Charles nodded, still facing away to give her some privacy. "Alright," he said, his voice still a bit gravelly, "I'll be done soon. You can wait in there and brush your teeth when I'm done."

Y/n nodded, her grip on the towel tightening slightly. "Okay," she replied, her voice soft. "I'll wait here. Take your time."

As soon as the bathroom door closed, Y/n hurried to get changed. Although the bath was relaxing, the knowledge that Charles was waiting just on the other side of the door hurried her movements. She slipped into her fresh clothes, the material cool and comfortable against her still-damp skin.

Within a few minutes, she was fully dressed, her hair still a little damp but tucked away from her face. She checked herself quickly in the mirror, making sure everything was in place before taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

The silence in the room was broken only by the occasional sound of a car passing on the street outside. Y/n sat patiently, waiting for Charles to finish. Her mind began to drift, her thoughts a mixture of relaxation and anticipation.

Just as she started to feel a bit antsy, the sound of the bathroom door opening broke the silence. Charles emerged from the bathroom, his hair slightly disheveled but otherwise looking much more awake.

He smiled slightly as his eyes met hers, his expression a mix of tiredness and relief. "All done," he said, his voice still roughened by sleep. "The bathroom's all yours."

Charles leaned against the doorframe, still feeling a bit groggy, but also enjoying the sight of her moving around his bathroom. He tried not to look too closely as she bent over to reach for her toiletry bag, the sight of her in his bathroom quite domestic and slightly stirring.

He waited patiently as she rummaged through her bag, her fingers pulling out her toothbrush and toothpaste. She started to brush her teeth, the sound of the brush against her teeth and the water from the faucet filling the small space.

Charles watched her quietly, his eyes following her movements. He observed the way she moved, the way the light played across her skin, and the small sounds she made as she brushed her teeth. It was all very mundane, yet somehow strangely intimate.

The moment felt almost surreal, the quiet of the night and the intimacy of the bathroom creating a bubble of comfort and familiarity. Charles's mind was still a bit hazy with sleep, but he found himself enjoying the simple act of watching her brush her teeth in his bathroom.

Y/n continued brushing her teeth, her cheeks slightly puffed with foam. She then remembered the plan for the following day and spoke with a foamy mouth, her words slightly garbled. "Where... are we... eating... tomorrow?" she managed to ask, her toothbrush still swirling in her mouth.

Despite her toothbrush-filled mouth, the question was clear. Charles chuckled softly at the sight of her, her hair slightly messy, dressed in her pajamas, and talking with a mouth full of foam.

He leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest as he responded. "I was thinking we could go to that new café downtown," he suggested, his voice still rough with sleep. "I've heard they have great pastries and coffee."

Y/n nodded, the toothbrush still in her mouth. The idea of pastries and coffee sounded delightful, especially in the morning. However, the foam made her answer turn into a series of mumbled sounds, leaving Charles unsure of what she was actually saying.

Charles chuckled softly, amused by her foamy response. "I'll take that as a yes," he said light-heartedly, unable to keep a smile off his face.

She tried to respond but ended up sending a few drops of foamy toothpaste sputtering onto the sink. She quickly rinsed out her mouth, spitting the foam out. "Sorry," she sheepishly apologized, her cheeks slightly pink. "Hard to talk when my mouth is full of foam."

Charles chuckled again, the sound echoing around the small bathroom. "It's fine," he reassured her, his voice warm. "It was entertaining to watch, even if I couldn't make out half of what you were saying."

Y/n leaned against the counter, exhaustion beginning to show in her every muscle. Her shoulders sagged, and she let out a weary sigh. "I'm too tired to walk back to the guest bedroom," she mumbled, her tone weary and a bit whiny.

Charles saw her slouched form and sympathized with her fatigue. He knew it was past midnight and she'd had a long day. "You can just sleep here if you want," he suggested, his tone gentle yet practical.

Y/n perked up slightly at his suggestion. The idea of collapsing into the comfort of a bed without having to move sounded heavenly. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice a tired murmur.

Charles nodded, his eyes softening at her tired state. "It's fine," he reassured her, a small smile on his lips. "I don't mind. This bed is plenty big enough for both of us."

Y/n hesitated for a moment, her cheeks slightly warm. The thought of sharing a bed with Charles was undeniably intimate, but her body's need for rest was so great, that she couldn't find the energy to protest. "Okay," she agreed, her voice barely more than a weary murmur.

She stumbled to the bed, her weary steps almost resembling a slow run. She practically collapsed onto the sheets, the soft, cool fabric feeling luxurious against her tired body. She landed on the bed with a satisfied sigh, the impact sending the sheets billowing slightly.

Y/n sank into the bed, her limbs feeling like lead. A weary groan escaped her lips as she wrapped her arms around a nearby pillow, pulling it close to her chest. The pillows felt soft and supportive, the bed molding around her form like a cozy, welcoming cocoon.

Charles watched her with an affectionate smile, amused by her eagerness to be in bed and the speed with which she had buried herself in the pillows. He moved to the bed, sitting on the edge and watching as she settled into the sheets.

He couldn't help but chuckle softly at the sight of her, her body half-buried under the pillows and blankets. Her eyes were closed, the exhaustion of the day evident in the way she had slumped into the soft bedding.

"Comfy?" he teased gently, his tone a mix of amusement and affection. He reached out and ruffled her hair, his fingers briefly touching her forehead.

Y/n mumbled an affirmative reply, her words barely intelligible as she mumbled into the pillows. "Mmmhmm..." was all she managed to get out, her eyes still closed, and her body snuggled deep into the bed.

Charles smiled at her sleepy reply, finding her exhaustion endearing. He continued to sit on the edge of the bed, watching as she nuzzled into the pillows, almost melting into the bedding.

"You look like you're ready to hibernate," he teased her again, his tone gentle but amused. He reached out and ran his fingers through her hair once more, his touch tender but affectionate.

Charles smiled at her lack of reply, amused by her quick transition into sleep. He had barely finished speaking when he saw her body relax further into the bed, her breath evening out into the slow rhythm of sleep.

He chuckled softly, realizing she had fallen asleep mid-conversation. He stood up from the edge of the bed and walked over to the light switch, flicking it off. The room fell into darkness, the only light coming from the sliver of moonlight from outside.

Charles carefully slid into the bed, trying not to disturb Y/n's sleep. Once he was settled, he moved closer to her, gently maneuvering her body so she was pressed against him. His arm curled around her, pulling her close against his chest, and he held her close, her warmth and soft breathing against his skin.

He lay there, awake, listening to her breathe, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest. The soft sound of her breathing was like a lullaby, and he found himself soothed by her closeness.

Charles began to hum softly, his voice barely above a whisper. The melody was slow and soothing, the song a soft rendition of Édith Piaf's "La Vie en Rose." His voice was warm and gentle, the sound reverberating silently in the quiet room.

He continued to hum as he held Y/n close, the sound of his voice mingling with her soft breathing. The melody was a small, comforting addition to the silence, a soothing lullaby only meant for her sleeping form.

As he hummed, his eyes traced her features in the dim light. He could make out the soft curve of her nose, the gentle angle of her jawline, the fluttering of her eyelashes against her cheeks. She looked peaceful in sleep, her face relaxed and free from the lines and shadows of daytime.

His hold on her was gentle but tight, his arm wrapped firmly around her, keeping her close. The feel of her body against his was comforting, a steady reminder that she was there, safe in his arms.

Charles's voice trailed off as he finished singing the final note of "La Vie en Rose." He let the silence settle for a moment, his breath a soft sigh against her hair.

Then, he whispered, his voice barely audible in the darkness, "God, if only you knew how much I love you. If only you weren't so dense." His tone was affectionate yet tinged with a hint of melancholy.

Charles continued to hold Y/n close, his eyes still on her face, even in the dim moonlight. He whispered softly to himself, his words barely a sound.

"One day," he muttered, his voice a whisper. "I'll tell you one day."

His voice was filled with a mixture of determination and uncertainty. He knew confessing wouldn't be easy, and the fear of rejection was a constant gnawing in the back of his mind. Yet, the need to tell her how he felt was growing more powerful by the day.

For now, though, he'd continue to hold her close, appreciating the quiet intimacy of the moment. He closed his eyes, listening to her steady breathing, and willed himself to sleep.

May 27, 2024 - 8:16 AM

Y/n stirred, her eyes slowly fluttering open. The room was filled with the soft morning light, and for a moment she was disoriented. Then she became aware of her surroundings, the realization that she wasn't in her own bed slowly dawning on her.

She sat up, her head still fuzzy from sleep, and her eyes widened as she saw not Charles but Leo lying next to her, in the same spot Charles had been the night before.

The sight of Leo sleeping peacefully made her blink, a rush of surprise and confusion going through her heart. A million questions raced through her mind. Where was Charles? Was this a dream? But she quickly became aware that this was very real, and Leo was indeed sharing the bed with her.

Y/n's hand moved almost on its own, gently reaching out to stroke Leo's head. The soft fur felt warm under her fingers, a stark contrast to the cool sheets she had just woken up from.

Leo stirred slightly at her touch, his head nuzzling closer to her hand. He let out a soft, contented sigh, still mostly asleep.

She scooted closer to Leo on the bed, her eyes still heavy with sleep but her curiosity stirring. "Leo," she whispered, her voice soft yet a hint of worry in her tone. "Do you know where Charles went?"

Leo blinked open his eyes slowly, his intelligent gaze meeting hers. He yawned widely, showing off his little tongue before tilting his head to one side, clearly not understanding her question.

Y/n's head whipped around at the sound of a laugh, and her eyes met Charles's form standing in the doorway. A wave of relief washed over her as she saw that he was okay and had not disappeared into thin air.

"You're here," she said, her voice a mixture of surprise and relief. She pushed herself into a sitting position, shaking the last tendrils of sleep from her mind. "Where did you go? And why is Leo in the bed?"

Charles chuckled at her question, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. He walked over to the bed, a cup of coffee in his hand. "I went to get us both some coffee," he explained, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the room. He sat down on the edge of the bed, next to where Y/n was still sitting.

"And as for Leo," he added with a smirk, "he just wanted to keep you company."

Leo had also perked up at the sound of Charles's voice, his tail thumping softly against the sheets. He let out another soft sigh before stretching out, rolling onto his back and exposing his stomach.

Charles took a sip of his coffee, his eyes watching Y/n and Leo with fond amusement. "Seems like he's quite comfortable here," he commented, his voice laced with a hint of humor.

Y/n yawned and stretched slightly, her eyes still half-focused on Leo's adorable form on the bed. Her gaze then flicked to Charles, a sleepy smile on her lips. "Well," she teased, her voice still raspy with sleep, "who wouldn't be? Your bed is huge."

Charles chuckled at her comment, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I guess I have a lot of room to share," he replied, his tone lighthearted. He took another sip of his coffee, savoring the hot liquid.

"It's a good thing," he added, his tone becoming a bit more serious. "It means I have enough space for both you and Leo." He reached out, his fingers gently scratching behind Leo's ear, earning a soft, satisfied whine from the dachshund.

"See? He likes the bed," he said, his tone softening as his gaze met Y/n's again. He put down his coffee on the bedside table, his eyes studying her face. "How'd you sleep?"

Y/n took a moment to consider his question, a soft sigh escaping her lips. "I slept well," she answered, her voice still a bit dazed from sleep. "Although, I admit waking up to Leo instead of you was a bit of a shocker."

Charles chuckled at her reply, his shoulders shaking slightly with the sound. "Sorry about that," he apologized, his tone slightly sheepish. "I didn't want to wake you, and I didn't expect Leo to take my place so quickly."

Leo, as if sensing they were talking about him, let out a small, tired 'woof' before rolling over onto his front, his paws sticking out adorably. He let out another sigh, his eyes half-closed in contentment.

Charles bent down and patted Leo's head gently, his smile widening at the dog's adorable display. "Looks like I've been replaced," he joked, his tone playful but laced with a hint of affection.

Y/n chuckled softly, her eyes watching the interaction between Charles and Leo. "Looks like you have," she agreed, her tone light and amused. She reached out a hand, scratching behind Leo's other ear, eliciting another soft whine of contentment from the dachshund.

She pushed the covers off, reluctantly leaving the warm, comfortable bed. With a small groan of sleepiness, she stood up, the cold hardwood floor against her bare feet.

"I'm going to go use the bathroom," she announced, her voice still hoarse from sleep. She stretched her arms over her head, yawning widely as she made her way across the room.

Charles watched her as she moved across the room, her sleepy form padding towards the bathroom. "Take your time," he said, his tone gentle. "I'll be here when you're back."

Y/n nodded, her hair slightly mussed from sleep. "I won't be long," she said, her voice still half-slurred from sleep. She pushed open the bathroom door and disappeared inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Charles leaned back against the headboard, turning his attention to Leo, who was now rolling back and forth on the bed, seemingly enjoying every inch of the large expanse of sheets. He couldn't help but chuckle at the sight, reaching out to scratch the dog's belly gently.

Charles's hand continued to rub Leo's stomach, his eyes watching the dachshund lazily rolling around. His question hung in the air, the weight of it echoing around in his mind.

His expression softened, and he spoke softly, his voice just above a murmur, "When do I tell her?"

He hadn't expected a response from a dog, but speaking his thoughts out loud helped to somehow organize them in his mind. The sound of Y/n moving around in the bathroom filtered through the door, background noise to his contemplation.

Charles sighed, the weight of his feelings for her seeming to get heavier with each passing day. The need to tell her how he felt was becoming more urgent, the words threatening to spill out at any moment. But the fear of her rejection, the possibility of losing her friendship... it was enough to keep him holding his tongue.

As the moment passed, he shook his head slightly, forcing the thoughts away for now. Y/n would be out of the bathroom soon, and he didn't want her to see him too lost in his own thoughts.

He turned his attention back to Leo, continuing to rub the dog's stomach, the repetitive motion helping to soothe his own restless thoughts.

The sound of the bathroom door opening brought his attention back to the present. He looked up to see Y/n exit the bathroom, her hair slightly less mussed now. She walked back to the bed, her steps a bit less sleepy than before.

"Feel better?" Charles asked, his voice still a soft murmur. He watched her approach, the morning light from the window casting her figure into a soft golden glow.

Y/n nodded in reply, a small, satisfied smile on her face. "Yes, much better," she answered, her voice clearer now, having lost the sleep-induced huskiness. She collapsed back onto the bed, the soft sheets welcoming her tired form back into their embrace.

She scooped up Leo, her hands gently holding the dachshund's small body against her chest. She cradled him against her, his soft fur rubbing against her bare skin. Leo let out a soft, contented sigh, snuggling closer to her neck, his warmth and scent offering her comfort.

Y/n looked down at Leo, her fingers gently stroking the soft fur on his head. A soft, affectionate smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and she whispered, "Oh, you're my little baby, aren't you?" she cooed, her tone soft and affectionate.

Leo's ears perked up at her words, his small head lifting from where it was resting at her neck. He let out a soft whine, as if in agreement.

Charles watched the interaction between Y/n and Leo, his heart skipping a beat at her use of the word 'baby'. The casualness with which she used it, the affection in her voice... it made something stir within him.

He couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips, a mix of fondness and subtle jealousy swirling within him.

The word 'baby' echoed in his mind. He wanted to hear her say it to him, longed to have that affectionate tone directed towards him. But he pushed the thought away quickly, not wanting to dwell too long on his own unrequited feelings.

He chuckled softly, his tone purposefully lighthearted, "Looks like Leo's got a new favorite."

Y/n looked up at Charles with a playful, mock-mean expression, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "What do you mean, 'new favorite?' I've always been Leo's favorite," she declared, her voice carrying a hint of playful defensiveness.

Leo seemed to sense the playfulness in her tone. He let out a soft 'woof,' his little tail wagging fiercely as if agreeing with her statement.

She stuck out her tongue defiantly at Charles, her tone playful but laced with a hint of satisfaction. "He loves me more than you," she stated, holding up Leo as if to prove her point.

Leo seemed to know he was the center of their playful argument. He let out a soft whine, his head tilting from side to side as if unable to pick a side.

Charles feigned hurt, placing a hand over his chest in mock-shock. "Ouch," he joked, his tone light but with a hint of genuine amusement. He raised an eyebrow at Y/n, playing along with her banter.

"Traitor," he muttered jokingly to Leo, though his eyes were still on Y/n, the sparkle of humor dancing in them.

Charles leaned back against the headboard, a hand rubbing his chin in thought. "Unfortunately," he said, his tone laced with a slight hint of disappointment, "the café is closed today."

He paused for a moment, mulling over his next words before continuing, "Apparently, the owner is having his birthday party, and he's given all his employees the day off."

Y/n's expression mirrored Charles's disappointment, a small pout on her lips. "That's a shame," she replied, her voice softer, the playful banter from before replaced by a genuine hint of disappointment.

She looked down at Leo, who was now lying comfortably on her lap, his little eyes closing as if falling back asleep. "I was looking forward to their pastries," she added, her tone slightly wistful.

Charles reassured her with a small smile, his tone hopeful. "It's okay," he said, his words gentle, "We can stay here for now, and later we can go out for brunch."

He shifted slightly, turning his body to face her more directly, the morning light bathing them both in a soft, warm glow.

"Besides," he added, his tone a hint more playful, "we can have Leo all to ourselves for longer. He seems quite content right where he is." He nodded towards the dachshund, who was still lying peacefully in her lap, now fast asleep and lightly snoring.

Y/n looked down at Leo with a soft smile, her fingers gently scratching behind the dachshund's ear. "But is it normal for puppies to sleep this much?" she asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and concern.

Leo stirred slightly, his little nose twitching as if sensing they were talking about him, but he continued to sleep, his tiny paws moving occasionally in his dreams.

Charles nodded in confirmation, a small smile on his lips as the memories of Leo's earlier antics filled his mind. "Yup," he confirmed, his tone casual. "He had a major case of the zoomies this morning. Running laps around the living room, barking, the whole nine yards."

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise, a hint of disbelief coloring her voice. "I slept through that?" she asked, her tone laced with a mixture of shock and amusement.

Charles chuckled at her reaction, nodding. "Oh, yeah," he confirmed, his voice slightly amused, "You were out like a light."

"You were completely oblivious to all the commotion," he added, a hint of fond admiration in his voice. "Leo was running circles around the room, barking like his little heart was about to burst, and you didn't even twitch."

Y/n couldn't help but laugh at the mental image of Charles trying to wrangle a hyperactive puppy while she blissfully slept through the chaos. "I feel like I should apologize," she said between giggles, "but it's also kind of funny that I missed out on all the fun."

Charles chuckled along with her, his eyes sparkling with amusement at the memory. "It was a sight to behold," he said, his tone lighthearted. "Honestly, I didn't know what to do with him. He was like a little tornado, zooming around the room at top speed."

"I tried to get him to calm down a bit," he confessed, "but he was having way too much fun. He was chasing his own tail, running into walls, yipping and barking like he'd just discovered the meaning of life."

Y/n looked down at Leo, her initial shock replaced by a soft, affectionate smile. "Poor baby," she murmured, her voice soft and gentle. "He must be exhausted."

She gently stroked the sleeping dachshund's head, her fingers gently running through his soft, short fur.

Leo stirred slightly in his sleep, his little nose wrinkling as if in response to her touch. His eyes remained closed, but he let out a soft, contented sigh, snuggling deeper into Y/n's lap.

Y/n looked up at Charles, a soft yawn escaping her lips. "Can I go back to sleep for a bit?" she asked, her voice still a bit drowsy.

Charles smiled, nodding gently. "Of course," he replied, his tone reassuring. "You can sleep for as long as you want. Leo and I will be right here when you wake up."

Y/n's shoulders relaxed in relief, her tiredness seeming to overtake her. She let out another, wider yawn, her eyelids already starting to droop. "Thanks," she murmured, her words slightly slurred with sleep.

May 27, 2024 - 10:21 AM

He gently shakes Y/n's shoulder, drawing her from the pleasant world of dreams. "Y/n," he says softly, his voice warm and gentle. "Wake up, sleepyhead. It's time to get ready."

Y/n slowly opens her eyes, the remnants of sleep still clinging to her. She blinks a few times, her vision clearing, and meets Charles's gaze. "Already?" she mumbles, her voice still thick with sleep.

Charles nods, a small smile on his face. "Yep," he confirms. "I'm all set, and Leo's ready too."

He gestures towards Leo, who is now sitting by the bed, his little ears perked up and his tail wagging as if he understands the conversation.

Charles nods patiently, his smile still in place. "Sure," he replies, "Take your time. I'll wait for you here with Leo."

Y/n smiles in appreciation, and with a last, lingering glance at the duo, she heads into the bathroom to freshen up.

A few minutes later, Y/n poked her head out from the bathroom door, her hair still slightly damp. "Charlie," she called, her voice carrying through the open door, "Can you grab my dress for me? I left it on the bed in the guest room. I had it all ready last night before I fell asleep."

Charles looked up from where he had been playing with Leo, the dachshund now chewing on one of his shoes. "Sure thing," he replied, standing up and heading towards the guest room.

He navigated his way into the spacious guest room, the bed neat and tidy, the dress laid out meticulously on top. He picked up the dress, his eyes running over the delicate fabric and the design that Y/n had chosen.

He took a moment to appreciate the dress before walking back towards the bathroom, the dress safely in his hands. As he approached the bathroom door, he knocked gently, alerting Y/n of his arrival.

"I've got the dress," he called out, his voice soft so as not to startle her. He waited for a moment, giving her a chance to respond before proceeding.

Y/n peeps out from the bathroom door once more, a warm smile on her face. "Thank you, Charlie," she says, genuinely appreciative of his help.

Charles smiles back at her, holding the dress out for her to take. "You're welcome," he replies, his voice gentle. He takes a moment to appreciate the view of her standing there in the doorway, the morning sunlight catching the wet strands of her hair and making them sparkle.

He hands her the dress, their fingers brushing briefly in the exchange. There's a moment of silence, broken only by the sound of Leo's soft panting and the distant hum of city life outside.

Y/n emerges from the bathroom, the soft fabric of her dress falling gently around her legs. She smooths out any wrinkles, adjusting the straps and hemlines until she is satisfied.

Looking up at Charles, she says, "All ready," her voice cheerful despite the early hour.

Charles does a slow, subtle scan of her appearance, his gaze taking in the way the dress hugs her figure and accentuates her curves. He can't help the small appreciative smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth.

Y/n scoops up Leo, the dachshund snuggling comfortably against her chest. She grabs her phone from the bedside table and gives Charles's hand a firm pull, practically dragging him towards the door.

"Let's go," she urges, her tone full of eagerness.

Charles chuckles at her eagerness, allowing himself to be led by Y/n, their hands still linked together, and follows her towards the door. Leo lets out a soft little bark as if cheering them on.

The three of them head out into the hallway, Charles keeping pace beside Y/n as they make their way towards the front door. The soft pat-pat of their footsteps and the occasional squeak from Leo were the only sounds in the apartment.

They reach the front door, and Charles holds it open for Y/n and Leo, a gentlemanly gesture that seems almost second nature to him. "After you," he says, his tone light but filled with affectionate warmth.

Y/n grins at his old-fashioned chivalry, passing through the open doorway with Leo in her arms. "Why, thank you," she says, her words tinged with affectionate amusement.

Charles follows, letting go of the door as it closes behind him. He falls into step beside her, their shoulders nearly touching. "No problem," he replies, the corners of his mouth curving upwards into a small, private smile.

She notices Charles's unwavering gaze and asks, a hint of curiosity and amusement in her voice. "What? Is there something on my face? You've been staring at me the whole way down."

Charles's smile widens, caught in the act. He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck before replying, "No, no, nothing on your face. I was just watching you with Leo. You two are so cute together."

Y/n smiles, her gaze shifting down to Leo in her arms, who is oblivious to the conversation. "Oh, yeah," she says, a hint of pride in her voice, "We do make a pretty cute pair, don't we?"

He nods in agreement, his gaze shifting to both Y/n and Leo in her arms. "Absolutely," he says, his voice soft and sincere. "You and Leo are the cutest pair I've ever seen."

His eyes dart between Y/n and the dog, taking in the sight of the dachshund, so completely at ease in her arms. The elevator dings as it reaches the lobby, and he steps out, holding the door open for Y/n and Leo once more.

They step out into the lobby, the world outside the glass doors filled with the sounds of the city. Charles leads them out into the street, the sun warm and bright. As they walk, he can't help but glance at Y/n every so often, a small, fond smile playing on his lips.

The pair walk down the street, crossing intersections and passing by shops and cafes. Leo stays snuggled in Y/n's arms, his little head resting on her shoulder. Y/n and Charles walk quietly beside each other, the comfortable silence between them occasionally broken by a comment or a soft laugh.

They reach an open-air café, the outdoor seats under a shady tree filled with people enjoying their breakfast. Charles pulls out a chair for Y/n, gesturing for her to sit, his chivalry still very much in play.

"Have a seat," he says, his tone warm and gentle. "I'll go get us some breakfast menus."

Y/n smiles in appreciation, settling down on the comfortable chair with Leo still in her arms. She watches as Charles makes his way towards the counter, weaving through the tables and chairs with ease.

He reaches the counter, chatting with the employee behind it and perusing the menu on the wall. After a few moments, he returns with two breakfast menus, a smile on his face.

He hands one of the menus to Y/n and takes a seat across from her, a small gap between their chairs. He opens his own menu, his eyes scanning over the options. Leo stretches in Y/n's lap, his little arms and legs stretching out as he lets out a soft yawn.

Y/n grins at the sight, her fingers absently running through Leo's soft fur. She looks at her own menu, her eyes darting over the various breakfast items. "So many choices," she muses, her tone a mix of amusement and slight indecision.

Charles glances up from his own menu, a lopsided smile on his face. "Tell me about it," he agrees, a small huff of laughter escaping him. "I don't know if I want pancakes, eggs, or just a straight-up bowl of bacon."

Y/n laughs, imagining the sight of a plate stacked high with bacon. "A bowl of bacon does sound tempting," she replies, her tone jokingly serious. "But it might not be the best choice for breakfast."

Charles laughs along with her, the sound filling the space between them. "True," he concedes. "I don't think I want to start the day with a heart attack waiting to happen."

He looks back down at the menu, his expression thoughtful. "How about waffles?" he suggests, the word coming out slowly as if he's mulling over the idea.

Y/n considers the suggestion for a moment, her lips curving into a small, approving smile. "Waffles sound good," she agrees, nodding her head in agreement. "But only if they come with extra syrup."

Charles grins at her request, his eyes lighting up in amusement. "Extra syrup? That's non-negotiable," he clarifies, his tone still lighthearted. "Waffles without enough syrup are just sad, cold pancakes."

Y/n laughs in agreement, the sound ringing out around them. "Exactly," she says, a firm nod of her head. "Syrup is the most important part of a waffle. Without it, it's just a waste of carbs."

He wags a finger at her in a playful manner, his tone half-serious. "You know, I'm starting to think you just have a thing for sweet things. Coffee with too much sugar, syrup on everything..."

Y/n grins slyly, feigning ignorance. "Me? A sweet tooth?" she replies, her tone innocent. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I just like my food to have actual flavor."

Charles gives her a mock-skeptical look, a small chuckle escaping him. "Oh, really now? So that time last week when we shared a cheesecake and you almost went into a sugar coma..."

She laughs, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "That was for scientific purposes only," she clarifies, her tone light and playful. "I was testing my body's tolerance to sugar. It's all in the name of science."

Charles rolls his eyes in mock exasperation, his tone equally light. "Right, because science always requires two whole slices of cheesecake to be eaten in one sitting."

Y/n raises a finger in the air, a mock-serious expression on her face. "Science demands dedication," she says, her tone bordering on solemn, though her eyes still sparkle with amusement. "It's not my fault that cheesecake is the perfect medium for testing."

Charles watches her, his expression is fond and affectionate. He's so used to her antics and quick wit that even her playful arguments are endearing to him.

"Alright," he concedes, a small, affectionate sigh leaving his lips. "You win this round, scientific genius."

Y/n grins, a triumphant glint in her eyes. "I win every round, Charlie," she retorts, her tone smug. "It's a curse, really. My powers of logic and science-based reasoning are just too much for mere mortals like yourself to handle."

Charles laughs, shaking his head in good-natured defeat. "I should've known better than to argue with a genius," he admits, his tone filled with amusement. "From now on, I'll just stick to nodding along and agreeing with everything you say. Much easier that way."

May 27, 2024 - 11:42 AM

After they're done with their breakfast, Charles pays the bill and they head out of the café, Leo snuggles comfortably in Y/n's arms. As they walk back to Charles' place, he can't help but steal small glances at Y/n and Leo, his heart swelling with affection.

Leo gives a soft yip of recognition as they approach the apartment building, and wiggles in Y/n's arms, eager to get back to the familiar surroundings.

They enter the elevator, the metal walls gleaming in the harsh artificial light. Charles stands close to Y/n, Leo's weight between them, their arms occasionally grazing against each other.

The elevator dings, signaling their arrival at Charles' floor, and they make their way to his door, Leo's little paws tapping eagerly against the plush carpeted floor.

They enter the apartment, the door closing behind them with a resounding thud. Y/n sets Leo down, and he immediately barrels off, small paws thudding against the floor as he scurries into the living room, a little ball of energy.

Charles shuts the door behind them, his eyes lingering on Y/n for a moment before looking away, a slight flush creeping up his neck.

He clears his throat, the blush on his neck deepening slightly. "So, Y/n, I was wondering... when will you be driving back to France?"

His voice wavers slightly at the mention of her leaving, his heart heavy at the thought of not having her around. But he tries to hide it, maintaining a casual tone.

Y/n glances at her watch, her expression thoughtful. "I should be leaving for France before 5PM today," she replies, her tone firm. "The roads can get busy, so I want to make sure I have plenty of time."

Charles nods, a faint feeling of dread settling in his stomach. "Right, right," he says, forcing a small smile. "Gotta beat the traffic." He tries to match her casual tone, but the tightness of his voice betrays his emotions.

Y/n senses the change in his demeanor and steps closer, her voice softer now. "Don't worry, Charlie," she says, meeting his gaze. "I'll be back before you know it. And we can FaceTime every night until then. It's not like I'm disappearing off the face of the Earth."

She gives him a reassuring grin, her own heart heavy at the thought of leaving him behind. But she knows they need to face this reality, and her determination overrides her sadness.

Charles looks at her, his expression a mix of relief and sadness. "Yeah," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're right. FaceTime will be great. We'll stay in touch. And I'll plan our next movie marathon for when you're back."

He gives her a lopsided smile, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. "Just... promise me you'll drive safe, yeah?"

Y/n smiles, a genuine warmth radiating from her eyes. "You know I will, Charlie. Promise," she assures him. "And we're definitely having a movie marathon the moment I'm back. Just keep the popcorn ready."

He nods, a soft chuckle escaping him. "You know I always have popcorn ready," he says, his voice tinged with affection. "And we might as well make a day of it. Pizza, popcorn, the whole nine yards."

Charles glances at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room, the hands ticking softly, the rhythmic sound echoing in the small space. "You still have about five hours before you need to leave," he points out, his tone thoughtful.

He looks back at Y/n, his expression hopeful. "How about we watch a movie? Take our minds off the fact that you're leaving for a bit?" He offers her a small smile, the invitation genuine.

Y/n smiles, a bright sparkle lighting up her eyes. "That sounds like a great idea, Charlie!" she exclaims, a hint of excitement in her tone. "You make the popcorn. I'll pick the movie."

Charles nods in agreement, a grin spreading across his face. "You got it," he says, his tone light. "I'll whip up some popcorn. You get the movie set up. Just don't pick something too depressing, yeah? I don't think I can handle both of us feeling sad."

Y/n laughs, playfully rolling her eyes. "Please, I have impeccable taste in movies," she retorts, her tone laced with mock-affronted humor. "I wouldn't dream of subjecting you to a depressing film. We'll stick to feel-good, laugh-a-minute kind of stuff. We can save the melodrama for another day."

She makes her way over to the couch, the soft cushions beckoning her. She takes a seat, kicking off her shoes and getting comfortable. The sound of the grandfather clock continues, marking the passing of time, as Y/n scrolls through the movies on the TV, searching for the perfect film to suit the mood.

"Hey, Charlie!" Y/n's voice rings out across the room, her tone light and playful. "I've got two options here: 'Mamma Mia!' or 'Wild Child'. What do you feel like watching?"

Charles appears through the kitchen door, a bowl of fresh popcorn in his hands. He chuckles at her shouts, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, both sound tempting," he muses, his tone light. "But let's go for 'Mamma Mia'. Can't go wrong with some ABBA, right?"

Y/n grins, nodding excitedly. "You read my mind, Charlie. We can't pass up ABBA on our movie night. It's a crime against good taste." She taps a few buttons on her phone, queuing up 'Mamma Mia!' on their streaming service.

Charles hands her the bowl of popcorn, his fingers brushing against hers in a fleeting moment of contact. He settles down beside her, a comfortable distance between them, as the opening credits of 'Mamma Mia!' begin to roll. They munch on the popcorn and lose themselves in the familiar tunes and lighthearted storyline, enjoying the shared moment together.

As the movie plays on, Y/n finds herself singing along to the ABBA classics, her voice light and slightly off-key, filling the room with a contagious joy. Charles joins in too, his tone deeper and more confident, harmonizing with Y/n's vocals. They laugh at the cheesy jokes and dance along to the catchy songs, their worries momentarily forgotten in the shared fun of the musical.

May 27, 2024 - 4:22 PM

As the credits roll, and 'Hamilton' comes to a close, Y/n catches sight of the digital clock on the side table. The bright red numerals read '4:22 PM', and a sense of unease washes over her.

"Four-twenty-two?" she exclaims, a hint of panic creeping into her voice. "Damn, how did time slip away so fast? I need to get going soon."

Charles glances at the clock, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face. "You're right," he nods, his tone tinged with regret. "We need to get you back on the road soon. Can't have you driving after sunset." He rises from the couch, gesturing towards the guest room. "Let's get your things ready."

In the guest room, Charles helps Y/n pack her clothes efficiently. They work together in a comfortable silence, their movements synchronized. Charles carefully folds Y/n's clothes and tucks them into her suitcase, his touch gentle and efficient.

As they work, the atmosphere in the room is tinged with a sense of nostalgia and a hint of sadness. Although they're focused on the task at hand, they're both aware of the impending separation looming over them.

Y/n's gaze occasionally meets Charles as they pack, the unspoken emotions lingering between them. Charles steals glances at her, his eyes softening at the sight of her. Y/n, too, finds herself stealing glances at him, her heart growing heavier with every item packed.

Once the suitcase is packed, Charles closes it with a gentle click, securing the zipper. He steps back, his gaze meeting Y/n's with a mixture of sadness and affection. "All set?" he asks, his voice a soft whisper as if he's reluctant to break the comfortable silence that has settled between them.

Y/n looks at him, her gaze filled with an unspoken emotion, a mix of yearning and bittersweet acceptance. "Yeah," she says softly, her words barely above a whisper. "I think so. Just one more thing to do."

Without hesitation, she closes the distance between them, enveloping Charles in a tight hug. Charles wraps his arms around her, holding her close. The embrace feels like an unspoken promise, a silent assurance of their connection despite the physical separation that awaits them soon.

They stay like that for a few moments, and the world around them seems to fade away. For those brief seconds, time stands still, and they allow themselves to savor the warmth and solace of each other's presence. Eventually, Y/n pulls back slightly, her eyes meeting Charles's in a silent understanding. It's time for her to leave.

"I should get going," she says, her voice laced with a mix of sadness and determination. Charles nods, understanding the finality of the moment. "Alright," he whispers, his voice a tender caress against the stillness. "Drive safely, okay? And don't forget to FaceTime me tonight."

"Of course," Y/n confirms, her voice steady despite the pang of heartache. "As soon as I get settled, we'll FaceTime. You can't get rid of me that easily." A smile tugs at the corners of her lips, a bittersweet expression that echoes the emotions swirling within her.

Charles smiles, mirroring Y/n's bittersweet expression. "I wouldn't dream of it," he says softly, his fingers gently brushing a stray hair away from her face. "Until tonight, Y/n. Drive safely, and I'll be here waiting for your call."

May 27, 2024 - 5:42 PM

Y/n's car pulls into the parking lot of her apartment building in France. As she parks, a sense of familiarity washes over her, the sight of the place she calls home comforting after the long journey. But there's an emptiness, too, a void that she knows will only be filled once she's reunited with Charles.

Gathering her belongings, she steps out of the car, the familiar scent of the French countryside filling her senses. For a moment, she just stands there, soaking in the surroundings, a mix of emotions swirling within her - excitement to be home, sadness at the prospect of being away from Charles.

The sun dips below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the landscape. Y/n takes a deep breath, the cool evening air filling her lungs, and she starts walking toward her apartment building.

As she approaches the entrance, a bittersweet pang tugs at her heart. The thought of being separated from Charles for days, maybe even weeks, is daunting, but she knows they can weather this distance.

Y/n dives into her unpacking routine, meticulously organizing her things. However, she keeps getting side-tracked; a stack of books needing proper arrangement, a pile of photos requiring categorization, or a collection of trinkets demanding specific display spots.

As a result, she doesn't notice how time ticks away as she turns her simple unpacking task into a full apartment makeover.

By the time she checked the clock, 4 hours had passed. Her apartment looks spick and span, but she's only unpacked about half of her luggage. She lets out a laugh; it seems unpacking and cleaning were just covered for an impromptu interior design overhaul.

As Y/n finishes up the last of her unpacking, a sudden realization hits her. Her toiletry bag, a staple for any extended stay, is nowhere to be found. She recalls leaving it behind in Monaco. Frustration and disbelief flit across her face, the inconvenience of the situation sinking in.

Y/n stands in her spotless bathroom, torn between two unappealing options: going a night without brushing her teeth or making a late-night trip to the store for a new toothbrush. The thought of sacrificing oral hygiene isn't all that appealing, but neither is the idea of stepping out in the brisk evening air to buy new tooth-cleaning supplies.

Just as Y/n contemplates skipping her evening teeth-cleaning session, a sharp pang of longing for Charles hits out of nowhere. It catches her off guard, the realization of being separated from him sinking in once again. The empty toothbrush holder on the bathroom counter seems to echo the emptiness she feels without his presence

Suddenly, the truth hits Y/n with the force of a freight train. The feeling of having left something behind wasn't about a toothbrush at all; it was the poignant realization of leaving Charles behind in Monaco. Their separation weighs heavily on her heart, and in that moment, she misses his presence more than ever.

Y/n finds herself gazing at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, a sudden clarity dawning on her. A profound understanding washes over her as she whispers quietly to herself, "I love him."

The words hang in the air, echoing in the silent apartment. The realization brings a flood of emotions: joy, vulnerability, relief, and a sense of finally acknowledging what has been there all along. She loves Charles with a depth and intensity that leaves her breathless.

Without a second thought, Y/n hastily snatches her phone and car keys from the kitchen counter. She dashes through the darkened apartment, hastily flicking off lights and unplugging appliances as she goes.

Within minutes, she's out the door, the cool evening air enveloping her as she steps outdoors. A sense of urgency fuels her stride as she makes her way towards the parking lot, each step carrying her closer to the road that will bridge the physical distance between her and Charles.

Y/n's hands grip the steering wheel as she navigates the darkening streets, her heart beating with anticipation. The night is deep, but the city lights guide her way as she drives towards Monaco.

The prospect of seeing Charles again fuels her determination, her foot growing heavier on the pedal as she presses onward. Every mile feels like an eternity, but she knows that each one brings her closer to the moment when she'll be reunited with the one person who truly matters.

Her thoughts wander, imagining the moment when she'll see Charles. How his eyes will light up, or the warm embrace they'll share. The images fuel her determination to keep driving faster, to bridge the distance that separates them just a little bit quicker. The cityscape whizzes by, but she's resolute in her goal: to be with Charles once more.

May 27, 2024 - 11:09 PM

As Y/n stands outside Charles's door, a rush of emotions washes over her. Her heart races, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through her veins. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself before finally knocking on the door. The sound of her knuckles against the wood echoes in the quiet night.

Y/n braces herself, unsure of what awaits on the other side. Will Charles be surprised? Happy? Relieved? The anticipation gnaws at her, building with every passing second.

The sound of soft footsteps approaches from inside, and then the door swings open, revealing a bewildered Charles. He stares at Y/n in disbelief, his expression a mix of shock and delight. "Y/n? What are you doing here?" he queries, his voice tinged with both surprise and warmth.

Y/n musters up a shaky explanation, her voice filled with a mix of excitement and slight hesitation. "I... I left my toiletry bag here," she stammers, her words tumbling out in a hurry. "I didn't realize until after I had unpacked and organized my things. And, well, here I am." She flashes a sheepish smile, trying to downplay the fact that she drove all the way back just for her toiletry bag.

Charles stands dumbfounded for a beat, his mind trying to process the situation. But then, a slow grin spreads across his face. "You drove all the way back... for your toiletry bag?" he says, a hint of amusement in his tone. Despite the unconventional reason for her visit, he can't help but find the situation charming in its absurdity.

Y/n gathers her courage and blurts out her true feelings, the words spilling forth in a rush. "I... I missed you," she confesses, her voice filled with a mixture of earnestness and vulnerability. "I know it sounds crazy, but being separated from you, even for a few hours, felt unbearable. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing."

Her words come out in a rush, her emotions spilling over. "God dammit, Charles, I love you!" She can feel the heat rising in her cheeks as the words escape her lips, laying her heart bare in front of him. The vulnerability and intensity behind her confession hang in the air between them.

He doesn't waste a moment, pulling Y/n inside and pressing his lips against hers in a passionate kiss. There's a sense of relief and longing in his touch, the realization that their separation was unbearable for both of them. Y/n clings to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, matching his fervor and intensity.

Charles pulls away just enough to meet Y/n's gaze, his eyes filled with a mix of adoration and vulnerability. His voice carries a hint of awe as he continues, "You have no idea how long I've prayed for this moment. That maybe, just maybe, you felt something for me too."

His confession hangs in the air, the sincerity in his tone washing over Y/n like a wave of emotions.

Y/n's heart swells with a rush of emotions as Charles's words sink in. The longing she had tried to deny was mirrored in his own confession.

"I prayed for this too," she admits, her voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and tenderness. "I didn't realize the extent of my own feelings until the moment we said goodbye. The thought of being apart... it was unbearable. And now, here you are, saying what I've been too afraid to put into words."

Charles leans in for another lingering kiss, breaking away just long enough to ask, "Can you stay the night? I don't want to be apart from you any longer. Please." His voice is filled with a mixture of tenderness and longing, silently pleading for a positive response.

Y/n smiles, her heart filled with warmth and anticipation. "Yes," she whispers, the words barely above a breath as her lips brush against his. "I'll stay the night. Nothing would make me happier than being with you, right here, right now."

He gently pulls Y/n towards the bedroom, his lips never leaving hers as they make their way through the apartment. Once inside, he locks the door behind them, shutting out the rest of the world.

taglist

@nepobbylver @wobblymug @xoscar03 @irishmanwhore

[xosannie]

Head Empty, Mouth Full

☆Genre: smut 18+ MDNI

☆Pairing: soft bf!Yunho x needy gf!reader

☆Word Count: 1.9k

☆Warnings: pwp, oral (m receiving), praise, hair pulling, cock worship, just a sprinkle of deep throat, soft dom Yunho, cum eating, reader doesn’t orgasm (sorry) (let me know if I missed anything)

☆a/n: Short fic, I just can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to give Yunho head. Yunho makes me feral so I hope you enjoy this as much as I do ^_^

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You hummed softly at the feeling of Yunho‘s long fingers massaging your scalp. Your head rested on his thigh as he sat back against the headboard on your bed. You both enjoy each other's warmth as a movie played on the TV. 

You felt so warm and so safe snuggled up in the covers and nuzzling into Yunho’s lap. Every now and then he would glance down, smiling softly at the sight of your comfortable position. Your hair was so soft, he liked to brush the strands out of your face so he could see your pretty beauty marks better. 

“You’re so pretty,” he said in a low, gruff tone.

“You’re one to talk.”

Yunho chuckles at your reply, cupping your face to stroke your cheek. Yunho’s touch was so gentle, it made your heart swell. He felt so warm, and he smelled so nice. He just came out of the shower a few minutes ago, so you could faintly smell his body wash. It was a mix of musk and soft vanilla. 

You nuzzled your face in his thigh, taking in his scent and holding him closer. You loved his smell, his touch, and his voice. You loved his long fingers that felt good when they ran in your hair, and you loved how they felt thrusting deep inside you.

Woah, where did that come from? 

You try to shake those thoughts away. You and Yunho were having a wholesome time; let’s not ruin it with your degeneracy. Your eyes zeroed in on his crotch that was a mere inches away from your face. 

Oh no… Why were you feeling horny all of a sudden? 

You tried to ignore the small ache that began to grow in between your legs. You shifted around, legs entangling with Yunho’s under the covers. Yunho didn’t think of it much, assuming that you were just trying to get comfortable.

It wasn’t until he felt your hands slowly running up his thigh, gripping the fabric of his sweats, that made him put two and two together. He noticed the shift in your behavior, and a small smirk grew on his lips.

“Is my baby horny?”

You pressed your lips together, and you felt a blush creeping up on your cheeks. Of course, Yunho has always been observant; he can practically read you like a book. You didn’t know why you were feeling shy all of a sudden; it’s not like you both haven’t had sex many times before. You nod slowly, avoiding Yunho’s gaze.

“How did you know?” You ask softly.

“We’ve been dating for years; I can tell when my girlfriend is horny.”

You hear him chuckle darkly, the sound sending straight to your core. He runs his hands down under the cover to rub your arm in a soothing manner.

“What do you want to do about that, huh?”

Your eyes flickered back to the crotch of his sweats, your mouth starting to feel empty. You rolled over on your stomach, resting your weight on your elbows in front of you. You look up at a smirking Yunho.

He knew exactly what you wanted.

His hand cupped your jaw, thumb toying with your bottom lip, pulling it down just to let it snap back in place.

“Wanna suck my dick?” He says softly, his voice deep with desire, and you already started to feel hypnotized by it. 

You nod your head, looking up at Yunho through your lashes. He tsked at you, shaking his head side to side before speaking.

“Use your words, baby.”

"Yes, I want to suck your dick.”

He smiled wide, pushing your hair out of your face and behind your ear.

“Go on then. You have my permission.”

Without a second thought, you pulled the waistband of Yunho’s sweats, pulling them under his balls and admiring his soft dick. 

He watched in admiration as you took his length in your hand, slowly stroking it. It honestly didn’t take long for Yunho to start getting hard; the sight of you looking up at him with his dick in your hand alone was enough to cause a stir at his lower stomach. 

You loved the feeling of Yunho slowly getting more aroused; you took his half-hard cock in your warm mouth. You loved it even more when you felt him grow bigger against your lips. He let out a small huff, never taking his eyes off you. 

“That’s it, my good girl; get me hard.”

You moaned softly at his praise, encouraging you to bob your head slowly up and down his shaft. After you felt he was fully hard, you pulled off, collecting a wad of spit and letting it drip past your lips and down on his length. You use that as lubricant, stroking Yunho a little faster. 

Yunho’s breath started to grow heavier, and his eyes glistened with desire and affection. You just looked so pretty between his legs. He continued to run his hands in your hair, wanting to keep touching you any way he could. 

“You have the prettiest cock,” you whisper, placing a warm kiss on his tip while you looked up at him.

Yunho takes in a breath through his nose, your praise going straight to his dick. His eyes darkened a bit, watching the way your lips pressed against him. 

You trailed kisses from his tip all the way down to the base of his shaft; you stuck your tongue out and licked a long strip back up to the top. Yunho let out a shaky breath as his fingers started to grip at the roots of your hair. 

“You are so perfect like this.”

You whimper softly, licking his tip while you stroke the rest of his shaft. 

“I love your dick Yunho,” you whine.

He moaned at your words, feeling himself throb. You take the head of his length in your mouth, sucking softly while your tongue dances around his slit. Yunho let out a quiet moan, brows furrowing as he spoke in a breathless tone.

“I love when you worship my cock.”

You couldn’t take much more; you needed Yunho to fill your mouth. You slid down, taking him deeper, which caused Yunho to gasp. He wasn’t expecting you to take him in all of a sudden, and he held your hair back to keep it out of your face.

“Fuuckk, there you go.” He breathed out.

You bobbed your head up and down slowly, closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling of his throbbing length sliding against your tongue. You let out moans, subconsciously rocking your hips back and forth with need.

You core ached desperately between your legs. You loved sucking Yunho off so much; it was so hot and intimate. You swear you can get close just by having his dick in your mouth. 

“Mmm, you look so happy with my cock in your mouth,” he moaned, looking down at your blissed face.

You whimper at his words, your hand holding onto what you couldn’t reach. Yunho’s dick was long; you’re still training yourself to fully take him down your throat with ease. 

You pull off to let yourself breathe, stroking him faster as you pant heavily. A string of saliva connected from your lips to his tip, and Yunho groaned at the sight. He reached down to wipe the drool off the side of your mouth. 

You rested your head on his thigh while stroking his cock; he chucked at your behavior, petting your hair while he watched you endearingly. You started to feel yourself get more needy, but you didn’t want to stop pleasing Yunho. Not until he finished. 

“My pretty girl just can’t get enough of my dick, huh?” 

You whimpered, hiding your face in his lap. He gripped the roots of your hair, slowly lifting your head up to look at him. The action was both gentle and rough; it made your pussy throb. 

“Answer me when I talk to you.” 

“Yes! I love your dick. I can never get enough,” you moaned out. 

You loved how Yunho can manage to be both soft and demanding. Hearing his dominant words while he spoke in a gentle tone made you feel dizzy. He groaned, enjoying the look on your face and the sound of your needy voice. 

You take him back in your mouth, sucking while bobbing your head. This time Yunho helped guide you on his cock. He held onto your hair, pushing and pulling your head up and down. His moans grew louder, and so did yours. 

You tried to keep your eyes on Yunho, wanting to see his expression, but your vision kept blurring. Tears spilled out of your eyes from how turned on you were, and Yunho smiled while wiping them away. The sounds of lewd slurping and low moans filled the room. 

You wanted more; you needed more. You pulled off one last time, trying to even out your breath to prepare yourself for what you were going to do next. You saw the way Yunho twitched in your hand, his pretty cock glistening in the dim lighting as it shone with your saliva. 

You kissed his tip one last time before taking him back in your mouth. This time, you steadied your head, taking in a breath through your nose, and let your jaw relax. Yunho watched you intently, curious about what you’re doing.

“What is it, ba-oh my god!”

You take Yunho deeper in your mouth, going all the way down till your nose nuzzled against his pelvis. Yunho let out a loud moan, throwing his head back and tightening his grip in your hair. The feeling of your throat constricting around his length was enough to make him feel closer to release.

“I’m gonna… I’m close.” He whined.

You moaned, pulling off just to do it again. This time Yunho held you down, panting heavily as he moaned your name beautifully. You gripped his sweats tightly, feeling dizzy and, oh, so aroused. You felt him uncontrollably buck his hips up, fucking your face and making you choke. 

You choking is what pushed Yunho off the edge. And with one last whine from him, he came down your throat. 

You pulled off slightly so his hot seed could cover your tongue. You moaned at the taste of him; you swear you almost came right then and there. Once you felt Yunho pull you off by your hair, you looked up at him holding his cum in your mouth. 

Yunho panted heavily, head resting on the headboard after his intense orgasm. He looked down at you, cupping your cheek.

“Let me see,” he huffed. 

You opened your mouth, showing off his semen on your tongue and making sure not to let it spill out. He smiled weakly, patting your cheek.

“Good girl, now swallow.”

You did just that, opening your mouth again to show him that you swallowed every last bit. He cupped your face with both his hands.

“You’re so good to me; come here, sweetheart.”

Your heart swelled with pride at his words, sitting up to straddle his lap. You felt him wrap his long arms around your waist as he placed a soft kiss on your lips. You hum in the kiss, smiling wide.

“I like being your good girl.” You say softly, causing Yunho to chuckle breathlessly.

“That was amazing, baby.”

You giggle, placing a kiss on his nose, making him scrunch it up adorably. You both sat there for a moment, feeling his soft touches on your body as he tried to soothe you. He rubbed your aching jaw, placing kisses down your neck. 

“You really know how to make me feel good.”

“What can I say? It’s a gift.” 

You both laughed softly; you felt his arms tighten his hold around you. He grabbed your chin to pull you in for another slow kiss. 

“Now it’s my turn to make you cum.” 

“Fuck, yes, please,” you groan. 

~