#If there is anything else anyone wants to know just send something my way

[darkmxgician]

Promises Break- Part 3

pairing: fem!reader x noah. tags: drinking, trauma/PTSD, smut, choking, praise kink

word count: 1.9k

story song: what do you want from me? 

taglist: @sorrowsofsilence @angelsdevils @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @montgomery-929496

18+ below the cut

Part 1 - Part 2

~ Reader ~

Noah closes the distance between us, he grabs me and roughly pulls me into his embrace. His hand on my throat, pushing my head up, he looks at me like he’s waiting for something. I feel frozen, I can’t fathom why I’m not pushing him away, my traitorous brain not reacting when it should. That’s when he kisses me, and I lose every ounce of my being, his mouth moulds into mine, teeth grazing my lips, the force of it knocks the breath out of me. I get lost in it, a moan slips from me, the sound foreign. I loose my grip on my dress and grab him, needing to pull him closer, needing more. I’ve been wasting away lately, the memories from my past threatening to pull me under. It was wave of grief and sadness for the child I never got to be, so strong I was doing anything and everything to keep my grip on my current self, on the present, on reality. I opened my mouth fully, letting him sweep his tongue inside, losing myself in the moment, in him. Something snaps in him at that, the kiss turns into something savage, his grip on my throat tightening, I can feel his erection pushing into my stomach. I’ve never done this before, I’ve never even kissed anyone before, and yet I don’t feel nervous, I don’t try to back away. Further proof of how lost I am, how fucked the inside of my head is. I’m letting someone I normally can’t stand touch me in a way I’ve never allowed anyone else before. The worst part is that I’m enjoying every second. 

Noah seems to need this as much as I do, he pushes me back, my knees hitting the bed and I grab onto him to stop myself from falling. His mouth leaves mine and starts trailing down my neck as he grips my ass with both hands, pulling me up and letting me wrap my legs around his waist. I moan at the feeling of him against me, circling my arms around his neck and grabbing his short hair. He climbs onto the bed and pushes me into the mattress with his body, I’m completely trapped, and I’ve never been this turned on in my life. His attack on my throat gets more aggressive, he’s biting and sucking the skin so much I know I’ll have bruises tomorrow. Small moans escape as he ravages my bare skin, his groans of pleasure sending me over the edge. His mouth starts to trail down again, his tongue flicking over my nipple bar, his hands all over me, like he can’t get enough. I gasp at the sensation, he looks up through his hair, his eyes totally black, his mouth still around my breast. I nearly climax at the sight, I’ve always found him good looking, but I hated him enough that it negated any attraction I felt. Noah always sees right through me, through every wall I’ve built to protect my sanity, my sense of self, and those around me from knowing how much I’m crumbling. He sees past every defence and relishes in letting me know that, and nothing pisses me off more. After years of hating him for seeing how fucked up I am, he’s now on top of me, his mouth trailing further town, toward the waistband of my shorts. Any comfort I felt during his assault on my mouth, my neck and my breasts washes away. “Noah” I rasp, my voice hoarse. “Yeah little one?”, usually that nickname pisses me off, but the way his voice has dropped, the way he’s focussed so entirely on my body, it triggers something in me. It’s not like I’m a complete prude, I read a lot, romance books in particular, I just haven’t found someone who makes me feel comfortable, enough to explore my sexuality. I realise, as he’s paused above my stomach, looking up at me, that I don’t actually want him to stop. “I-I’ve never..” I trail off, stuttering. How the fuck am I supposed to tell him I’m a virgin, he’ll probably laugh in my face. He moves back up my body, his hands roaming over my bare skin as he does. Until he’s leaning over me, one hand above my head pushing him up, the other tracing lines on my throat, like he’s feeling my pulse. His eyes meet mine and I could get lost in them. “Are you a virgin y/n?”, his voice was guttural. I nod, slowly. He grips my throat and kisses me so aggressively I lose the ability to breathe, to think. “Do you want me to stop?”, his eyes stay locked on mine, assessing as our breath mingles. “Please don't” I whisper, not sure why I felt so confident all of a sudden. That was his undoing, he sits up and pulls my shorts and underwear off in one quick movement, I gasp as the air hits me, every inch of my skin feeling sensitive. He pulls me by my legs so I’m half dangling off the bed, and hooks them over his broad shoulders. Before I can even adjust to the new position he unleashes himself on me, his tongue feasting on me, his teeth biting at my swollen clit. I lose myself in the pleasure. My only experience is with a tiny vibrator, and I now realise that I’ve been missing out on a lot. My moans turn into loud groans, my hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer to me as I lose all control of my limbs. My body shakes like I’m having a seizure as the pressure begins to build, stronger than I’ve ever felt it before. His grip on my hips tightens and when he pushes one of his long fingers inside me, I shatter completely.

~ Noah ~

I cannot get enough of her, she tastes better than I could have ever imagined, and her whimpering, her moans, are threatening to undo me. She was soaked before I even started. I knew she’d not dated since I met her, and could tell she was inexperienced when I kissed her. But finding out she’s a virgin, it did something to me. Completely innocent, untouched. I almost came at the first taste of her, so fucking wet. And when I put one finger inside her, I felt her entire body let go, her scream as she came undone completely only fuelled by own sadistic tendencies, made me grip her so hard I knew it would mark her. I continued to feast on her as she came down from her high. Her body shaking so much I had to keep hold of her. Slowly her breathing returned to a slow pant, she let go of my hair and tried to move. Did she think we were done? I look up at her, my mouth around her clit, her eyes are hazy with pleasure, her mouth open slightly, a shocked but sated expression on her face. I add a second finger and she groans, her back arching and head falling back into the mattress. “Good girl” I mutter against her, and I feel her clench around my fingers. Does the little virgin have a praise kink? “Such a good girl, so wet for me, you taste like my new favourite meal”, she moans, hands flying back to my hair. I smile as I continue to eat her out, my fingers moving slowly, stretching out her tight cunt. It’s like she was made for me, so fucking perfect. 

I manage to pull two more orgasms from her with mouth and my fingers. I move back onto the bed to kiss her, to show her how good she tastes. Her face is red, tears staining her cheeks, her make up running down her face. Marks are starting to form from my previous assault on her throat. I pull her mouth open with the fingers that were just inside her, she goes pliant, letting me do what I please, so fucking perfect. I spit her release into her mouth, and kiss her greedily, hungry for more. She groans and fists her hands in the fabric of my t-shirt, pulling me closer. My cock starts straining against my trousers. I pull them down, positioning myself between her legs and driving inside of her, losing control completely. I feel her hymen break, she screams and the sound is like kindling to my arousal. I pull out completely and ram back inside her, a throaty groan comes from her, the noises she’s making are as animalistic as I feel. I know I should be gentle, but she’s so soft and wet and tight. I fuck her mercilessly, my hand around her throat, my tongue in her mouth, owning her completely. I stop only to take off my clothes. The sight of her laid bare for me, legs spread, chest heaving, eyes wide with lust and fear, it sends me into a frenzy. I grab her legs and flip her so she’s on her stomach, the movement pushes all the air from her lungs and she gasps. I pull her hips up and bury myself inside her, over and over, until her screams turn hoarse and I feel her climax building. I pull her up by her hair and wrap my hand around her throat again, “are you gonna come for me y/n?”, I keep thrusting inside her at a devastating pace, “that’s it, you’re taking me so well, like you were made for me”, she comes apart at that, “good girl” I growl in her ear. I can feel her muscles contracting and it sends me over the edge, my own release coming faster than usual. We stay there for a while, her tight cunt still squeezing my cock, both of us panting as we come down.

She hisses as I pull out, gasping at the soreness between her legs. She’s pliant in my arms and I gently lie her down on her back, her eyes are swimming with curiosity and pain, she’s fighting to stay conscious. All her shields are down, I crumbled every wall and defence she’s built around herself and I relish in the sight. She reaches out and traces lines across my face, until sleep finally takes hold and her arm drops to the mattress. I pull my underwear and joggers back on and head to the bathroom in search of a towel. After cleaning myself up I return to my girl, spreading her legs again to clean her. My erection grows again at the sight of my cum mixed with her blood, the red bite marks covering the inside of her thighs. I quickly clean her up before I decide to break her entirely, and wrap her in a blanket so she can sleep. What is wrong with me? I have a severe need to both shatter and fix her. I need to claim her, own her, I need to understand her, to uncover the darkness that takes over. The only thing I know for sure is that she’s mine, whether she likes it or not.

[mywitchyblog]

Can someone please explain to me who the hell is so upset with me that they’ve resorted to going into other shifters' ask boxes as an anonymous user and started bullying them in my name? It honestly baffles me that someone would stoop so low. If you have an issue with me or something I’ve said, be direct. I’m not one to hide behind anonymity or drag innocent people into something they have nothing to do with. If I had a problem with you, trust me, I’d say it to your face. I don’t need to hide in the shadows.

Now, there are only two possibilities for what’s going on here, and neither of them reflect well on the person responsible:

The first possibility is that this person is intentionally creating drama by sending themselves an anonymous ask. Maybe they’re looking for attention or trying to stir up conflict where there is none. It's sad, honestly, if that’s what’s happening because it just shows how far some people are willing to go to manufacture chaos.

The second possibility is that I’ve managed to piss someone off to the point where they’re now impersonating me, using my name to spread hate and start fights in spaces where I’m not even involved. If this is the case, I can’t say I’m surprised that someone would go this route rather than confront me directly, but it’s still frustrating. I don’t hide from criticism, and I won’t shy away from addressing issues head-on. But to use my identity in such a toxic way? That’s crossing a line.

To the person this happened to (I found out about this through a mutual, and I want you to know that I’m aware), I am truly sorry. I hate that this situation has dragged you into something you didn’t ask for, and I genuinely wish it hadn’t happened. But let me be absolutely clear: it wasn’t me. I did not send those messages, and I would never engage in that kind of behavior. It’s not how I handle things, and it’s certainly not how I treat others.

You are fully entitled to your own opinion, just like I’m entitled to mine. I’ve never denied that right to anyone, and I wouldn’t start now. We don’t have to agree on everything, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to attack you for your perspective or allow someone else to use my name to do so. That’s not how this works.

And just to set the record straight for the final time: I am not a pedophile, nor do I endorse, encourage, or support anything related to that disgusting behavior. It’s beyond insulting that I even have to keep repeating this, but here we are. In fact, I went out of my way to age myself up by a few years or to completely discard the DRs that felt problematic or uncomfortable. I’ve always been mindful of the spaces I navigate, especially when it comes to shifting, and I’ve made conscious decisions about what I’m comfortable with.

If you’re unhappy or confused about something I’ve said or done, talk to me like a human being. Bring it to me, and let’s figure it out. Don’t jump to conclusions or, worse, involve other people who aren’t even a part of the conversation. It’s cowardly and completely unnecessary. This whole thing could’ve been avoided with a little bit of maturity and honest communication.

At the end of the day, it’s honestly pathetic to bully other people just because they happen to have a different opinion than yours. Why are you so bothered by someone else’s perspective that you’d go out of your way to hurt them or cause unnecessary drama? We’re all individuals here, and our experiences with shifting, our journeys, and our beliefs are going to vary. No two people will see everything the same way, and that’s okay. It’s actually something to be embraced. What’s not okay is tearing each other down because of those differences. That only reflects poorly on you and shows how little respect you have for other people’s paths.

So, let’s try a little harder to be civil and respectful. You don’t have to agree with me, and I don’t have to agree with you, but at the very least, we can treat each other with decency.

[souliebird]

[[last call for sinners]]

fandom: Kin (AMC) pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader Rating : explicit tags: Dom/Sub, Explicit Sexual Content, Subspace, P in V sex word count: 8k Summary: The weight of the world feels like it is on Michael's shoulders and you are there to make sure he doesn't crumble under it

The weight of the world feels like it's on Michael's shoulders even when it shouldn't be. 

Business is good. Anna texted him earlier without prompt. No one's been going at each other. He hasn't had an episode in a while.

Things are Good.

But his shoulders and neck are tight, his nightmares are flaring up again, and little things keep irritating him. It feels like something is winding up right inside of him, getting ready to explode. He feels trapped. 

Even walking back to his house after a fantastic dinner with Birdy, he feels like he's sinking into the earth, waiting for it to swallow him whole.

He turns the corner and sees your bike parked in his driveway, hidden from the street by the wall.

Part of him wants to turn around, go back to Birdy's so he doesn't drag you don't into his darkness. But he's selfish, so very selfish, and he doesn't want to be alone in the dark and you are such a bright light. 

Michael goes to you like a moth drawn to a flame, unlocking the door and calling out for you. 

"Here," is the response from the sitting room. It still feels like he can't pick up his feet, trudging through mud to get to you. 

You're sitting on the couch, looking like you just came from work. One elegant leg is crossed over the other and you are typing away on your phone.

"How long have ya been waiting, love?"

You look up at him with your eyes slightly narrowed and like you're about to lecture him and he freezes in his spot. 

If anyone else gave him that look, he'd put them in their place. 

But with you, you and that look and how he feels, he bows his head just a fraction. You don't say anything, just keep him pinned to his spot with your gaze. Until you tilt your head to the side just a fraction.

The air is squeezed from his lungs and Michael drops to his knees. 

You finally put your phone to the side and uncross your legs with an exaggerated slowness. His mouth goes dry as he watches you stand. You take your time, smoothing out your dress before you walk around the coffee table to him. 

The only sound is the clicking of your heels.

He keeps his eyes on your face and you don't look anywhere but his. 

You stop in front of him, looking down at him with that same hard look. You reach out and cup his cheek, rubbing your thumb along his beard. He can't help but close his eyes and lean into the touch. 

It's like a tether, keeping him grounded and stable, your touch.

"My sweet puppy," your voice low, just barely a whisper. He doesn't dare open his eyes. "Look at the state of you. Lost in that handsome mind of yours." You turn your hand just slightly so you can scritch your nail across his jaw. 

He swallows a moan.

"What do you think will happen if I let you stay down this path, hmm? How dark will those thoughts go? Do you think it will be anything good, Michael?"

"No, ma'am."

"I don't think so either and I don't like the thought of anything not good happening to MY puppy. And you are mine , right, Michael?"

"Yes, ma'am." 

You give a pleased hum and it sends a shiver down his spine. You continue to drag your nails along his beard and he's so glad you asked him to grow it out. He presses into your hand more. 

"That's right. So I think I'll bring you back where you belong."

Michael turns his head so he can kiss at your palm, "Thank ya."

You allow him to nuzzle and kiss at your palm for a moment before pressing your index and middle finger under his chin, guiding his head up. He opens his eyes to look up at you.

He feels so so heavy and he knows you know, the way your eyes dance over his face.

"Let's go upstairs, pup."

He stands up from kneeling, your fingers staying under his chin until he is at full height, then tracing down his arm to take his hand. You give his fingers a light squeeze then turn and walk towards the staircase. He follows, letting you guide him across the room and up the stairs. 

Michael doesn't know what he's done to deserve you, to deserve this. You always know when he falls too deep into the dark, even when he says nothing. No one sees him like you do - not Jimmy or Amanda or Birdy. You know what he needs even when he doesn't know.

"I can hear you thinking, Michael," you say, giving his hand another squeeze.

He doesn't respond, he knows he doesn't need to with you, but he does tighten his grip on your hand. He doesn't want you to let go. He needs you to anchor him.

You lead him into his bedroom, to the foot of the bed and you turn to face him without letting go of his hand. He doesn't feel like he's under a microscope when you run your eyes from his head to his feet. It's almost comforting knowing he can't hide anything from you. 

"Take off your clothes," you order, letting go of his hand to run your fingers back up his arm and placing your hand in the middle of his chest. 

He knows he nods, he just doesn't process it. You drop your hand from him as he peels out of his Henley. He drops it to the ground and goes for his belt next. 

His heart starts beating a little faster when you step away from him. He doesn't want you to leave him. He needs you. 

He needs you.

He steps after you, just to match the one step you took away from him. You watch him with those sharp eyes and it makes his throat go tight. You told him to do something and he's not doing it.

Instead of an order or a reprimand, your eyes soften and a fond little sigh escapes your lips.

"Oh, my poor puppy. You really need this, don't you?" He doesn't know how to respond, so he doesn't. You touch his cheek again and he presses into it so hard one of you might lose balance. "Help me out of this dress. After you finish doing what I already told you to do."

You keep your hand on him as he pushes his pants and briefs off as quick as he can, having to kick off his shoes mid process. He manages to get his socks off as well, and in less than five seconds, he's nude and half hard in front of you.

You rake your eyes over him again before dropping your hand again and turning so your back faces him. Your hair is already tied up in a bun, so it's easy for him to find the hidden zipper of your dress and drag it down. 

The sheath dress falls off your shoulders and to the ground and Michael is surprised to see nothing under the dress. 

His cock twitches with interest as he remembers you rode your bike here.

As much as he doesn't want to, he keeps his hands to himself. 

You step out of the dress and face him again, now only in your high heels. 

You start to walk past him, beckoning him to follow with a finger. He's at your heel as you head into the bathroom. 

Two towels are already set out and he can't help licking his lips. You've planned all this - what you're going to do to him and he just wants to melt into it. Let you take control.

God, he needs it so much. You're too good for him.

He waits as you turn on the shower, watching as you test the water with your hand. Once it's how hot you want it, you glance over to him. All it takes is a look and he knows what you want. 

He goes into the shower, hissing as the spray hits him. It's scorching hot but feels good against his shoulders. He tilts his head down so it centers on the back of his neck, hoping for some relief from the tension.

You step out of your heels and into the shower behind him, your hands going to his shoulders and smoothing down his back. Michael shudders under your touch.

You don't speak as you run your hands over him, digging your nails in just enough that he can feel them. He closes his eyes and tries to focus solely on your touch.The shower feels like a cage, closing in around him. The spray is so loud in his ears and he doesn't like the feeling of the water clinging to his beard, weighing his head down more. Everything is just so much, except for your fingers on skin. They start going higher, dancing up his neck and teasing the ends of his hair. 

He doesn't know if seconds pass or hours, but eventually, you start wetting his hair, combing through it until it's slicked back. He hears you uncap a bottle and a moment later you are massaging product into his scalp. You coat his hair in it, then start digging your thumbs into the base of his skull. He leans back into it, inhaling steam into his lungs as he does. 

Whatever you are using isn't his normal shampoo. There's a hint of mint to it - nothing overwhelming. He rather likes it. It reminds him of the tea you drink in the mornings - when it's just you and him before everyone else wakes up. When the world is quiet. 

When he knows he's happy. 

When he knows you're happy.

As you wash his hair, Michael feels the stiffness start to bleed out of his shoulders.

 It never feels this good when he showers. You're using your nails and rubbing in little circles and he swears you must be a witch because it's not just the tightness in his body you're washing away, the tightness in his chest is fading. For the first time in hours, it feels like he can breathe. 

He lets himself inhale through his nose. 

Behind him, you give a pleased purr, "That's my good pup. Let me take care of you. Be good for me. Let go."

Michael hums in response. Letting go would be nice, wouldn't it? He trusts you - the only person outside his family he trusts. You're the only person who's seen him like this - this vulnerable. Others think they have, but they haven't. They haven't come close.

You kiss his shoulder then gently tilt his head back so you can rinse his hair out. It feels nice, the warm water with your fingers. He likes it when you run your fingers through his hair. You only do it when you're alone together, so it's become a little special to him. You always make him feel special.

He doesn't know if he makes you feel special. You put up with so much shite for him. He doesn't do nearly enough for you. 

He doesn't deserve you. He doesn't deserve this. 

"Shhh, none of that, now," you say, dropping your hand to his shoulders and nudging him to face you. He turns and you put your hands on his shoulders again - stepping forward. He steps back until he's pressed against the shower wall. You stop in front of him. You cup the side of his head and guide it to the nape of your neck. He buries his face into you, arms starting to shake from emotion and restraint.

"You can touch, pup," you whisper into his hair. 

Before you even finish giving permission, Michael's arms are around you, clinging to you.

You resume running your fingers through his hair as tears start sliding down his cheeks. He doesn't sob or shake, it's a sort of quiet release. It doesn't hurt and he's not angry - he just breathes deeply through it, letting it happen. 

You're holding him. You choose him. You don't sneer or run away. You know who he is - what he is. 

He wants to be yours so badly.

And you call him yours. 

You slide your free hand between you and wrap it around his cock.

He didn't realize how hard he was and it makes him whimper.

You start to stroke him, from the base, achingly slow up his shaft until you get to his head, which you squeeze just perfectly before starting back down again. Michael groans into your shoulder, dropping his hands so he can squeeze your waist. You tug at his hair a little and he nuzzles against your neck in apology.

You graciously accept and continue dragging your nails over his scalp. You pump his cock at a slow but steady pace. 

You're breathing into his ear. All he can smell is mint and you. All he can feel is you - your hands touching the most vulnerable parts of him, your body against his. He darts his tongue out so he can taste the salt on your skin. He wants to be consumed by you. 

He is consumed by you. 

You cradle him as you stroke him over and Michael is completely lost in the sensations. He wants to stay here like this for however long you will allow. To him, there's nothing outside your arms.

It is you and him. 

He wants all of you. He wants to give himself all of you. 

You kiss the shell of his ear as you work over his cock and Michael moans your name.

You respond by squeezing at his base, "Being so good for me, Pup. Always so good for me." He shivers at the praise, desperately needing it, needing you. He presses his face more into your neck, tightens his hold on your hips, and even attempts to shuffle impossibly closer. You're practically flush against each other.

"Let me take care of you," you purr against him and he nods, not really processing the words. He trusts whatever you're saying. He trusts you. He needs you. 

You press another kiss to his ear, then let go of his cock. An upset noise comes from the back of his throat and you gently shush him again. He rubs his cheek against your shoulder, needing more of you touching him.

"Don't you want this, puppy?" You breathe into his ear, tugging his head by the hair enough he lifts his head up to not be completely hidden against you. You press two fingers against his lips and smear something on them.

It's your own arousal and he greedily sucks your fingers into his mouth, wanting to taste you. 

The fact you want this, want him when he's like this, makes his own arousal even more intense. It's a heady feeling, at the base of his skull where you're petting him, and wrapping around his mind like a fog. But it's you, you're the fog, wrapping him up in all of you and it's not anything he wants to fight.

You're taking care of him. You always take care of him. 

He wants to take care of you. Be good for you. 

Be good to you.

"I think it's time to get out of the shower, puppy," you hum, pulling your fingers from his mouth. He tries to follow them, but the hand in his hair keeps him in place. "You need to put that mouth to good use."

His cock twitches so hard he can feel it and he nods, licking his lips for a lingering taste of you. 

"Please?" He asks, his own voice sounding far away to his ears. 

You know him so well because you don't let go of him to turn off the shower. Instead of hanging onto his hair, you take his hand again and step away. He doesn't cling. You're not leaving him.

He holds onto your hand and leans back against the cool tile wall. He manages to open his eyes to watch you. You placed the towels so you wouldn't have to leave the shower to get them and when you fully return to him, one is in your hand. 

You squeeze his fingers before letting go so you can use both hands to start drying his hair off. He tips his head forward so it's easier for you and for a few moments the towel blocks his vision of you. 

It makes his heart flutter nervously, but you are still there. He can feel your hands rubbing around his head through the towel and he can see your feet are only centimeters from his, but you don't have skin to skin contact and he doesn't like that. 

But he has to be good for you. He has to be, so he stares hard at a bead of water dripping down your leg. 

As he starts to feel his breathing get heavy, you flip the part of the towel covering his face up and back, so it's folded over his head. 

You cup both of his cheeks and bring him forward so his forehead is touching yours. 

"There's my puppy," you say, a soft little smile on your lips. You look so relaxed and happy and you're touching him again. He feels himself smile back at you as a pleasant calm settles over him again. You reward him with a feather light kiss to the cheek.

You once again take his hand and step out of the shower. He follows, looking down to where you are connected. Your fingers are hooked around his, thumb ghosting over his knuckles.The small comforts you give him make his head spin - he doesn't understand how you always know what he needs. 

And right now, Michael needs you. 

You lead him back to the bed and with your free hand, point to the ground. He kneels down slower this time, keeping a hold of your hand and nuzzling into it once on the floor. You turn your hand so you can pet his cheek, smoothing your thumb over his skin. He leans into it, tilting his head up to look up at you. 

"I have something for you," you purr. 

A questioning noise comes from deep in his throat. You hum, your lips turning up into a pretty little smirk. You scritch his chin and step back slowly. He doesn't like you stepping away, but he trusts you to come back. He doesn't want the buzzing in his head to fade. 

He doesn't want to be alone with his thoughts. Not like this. 

He closes his eyes and waits, because he doesn't want to see you walk away from him.

"You've been so good to me, so good for me, I thought you deserved a little treat. Something special."

He listens to your voice as you go to the closet. You rustle around briefly, then you are back in front of him in a few steps. 

Michael opens his eyes when you touch his cheek again. You're holding a slim but large black jewelry box and he doesn't understand how it could be for him. He furrows his brows, tilting his head a little in question and you just smile down at him. 

You tilt the box so he has the perfect view as you slowly reveal what is inside. Laying on a bed of deep green velvet are two pieces of matching jewelry.

In the center is a watch. It's sleek and all black and he knows by the brand it is an expensive model. It's a luxury piece, but it isn't showy. It's subtle. He doesn't know a lot about watches, but it's beautiful - it's something he would have picked out for himself if he was in the market for a luxury watch. 

Resting around the watch is a necklace - a thick black chain with an O ring in the middle. Like the watch, he can tell it's an expensive piece. 

It's not a collar you would have bought down at the local sex shop. 

Because it is a collar. You're presenting him with a collar and it is making his mind spin. 

He wants to be yours so badly, to submit himself to you fully, but a collar is a lot. He knows it is a lot and his Pride wants to fight it. He can't even imagine what his family would say.

But he wants to wear it for you. You got it for him and you want him to be Yours and that thought alone has his cock weeping. 

"Can I put it on you?" 

Michael nods, his mouth going dry and throat going tight. 

He wants it. If he doesn't like it, he trusts you to remove it, he knows you will, but he wants to feel it around his neck. He wants to know what it feels like to be truly yours.

You place the box on the bed so you can lift the collar up. It feels like he's watching you in slow motion and all he can focus on is your fingers around the chair. 

He wants them on his skin instead. 

There's no closure on the collar and it just barely slips over his head. You rest it around his neck and the O-ring rests just above his collar bone. It's heavy, much heavier than he expected it to be. It's not a weight he'd be able to ignore - he'll always know it's there. 

He'll always know he belongs to you. That you want him. That you need him in the same way he needs you. That despite everything he has done, everything you've seen about him, you still choose him. 

His fingers shake as he reaches up to feel where the chain rests. It's so cool against his hot skin. It sits loosely, not constructing his neck or making it hard to breathe. It feels Good. 

His attention is pulled away from the collar as you remove the watch from the gift box. You hold out your hand in front of his face and it takes a moment to process what you want from him. 

Michael places his left hand in yours and you slip the watch onto his wrist. It's heavy like the collar - he won't forget it's there. 

"The collar," you hum, latching the watch so it's snug, "is for just us, but this is for always, my pup. So you always know you are mine, every hour of every day." 

You bend down so you are face to face and cup his in both of your hands, smoothing your thumbs over his beard, "what do you think, Puppy? Do you like what I got you?"

He doesn't know how to answer. His throat is getting tighter and burning and he wants to scream and cry because _yes_ . He loves what you got him. So very very much. He just doesn't know how to express it. It's all too much and not enough. He tries to give a shaky nod, but all he manages to do is press his face into your palms with a whimper. 

It isn't until you kiss away his tears does Michael realize he's crying. 

You brush your nose over his and part of him wants to just bury his face into your shoulder again. 

You have other plans for him - one hand wraps around his cock again and it sends a full body shudder through him. You use the heel of your hand to smear precum over the head of his cock, teasing with the pressure but not giving him the pleasure. His hips start twitching and he wants so much to fuck up into your hand.

But he wants to be good for you, so good, deserve his collar and what you do to him, so he tries his best to not move. He closes his eyes and lets you consume him again.

It's easy for him to sink into your light. The buzzing and headyness are taking over his skull again and it's just as good as any high he's ever had. All other sensations are lost and all Michael feels is your hands on him and the cool metal hanging around his neck. 

It's perfect. It's so fucking perfect and good and you finally, finally, curl your fingers around him again and pump. The tightness is coiling in his belly and his thighs are starting to shake. 

He's so close. 

He's so close but then you take your hand away again and he wants to sob. 

You start to stand again, but you lean in so you bump against him as you raise. Your chin brushes his nose, then your sternum, and Michael groans and leans a little bit forward so his lips drag over your stomach. When you're fully standing, your cunt is just in front of him. 

His cock is so hard and leaking everywhere but none of it matters - not when you're asking this of him. 

Michael tilts his head back, and he feels like he's praying up to you. 

"Please?"

You put your leg over his shoulder, and using the hand still cupping his cheek, guide him to your core. 

Your cunt is dripping wet and Michael wastes no time burying his face into you. 

"Good boy," you moan, pushing your hand up to thread your fingers through his hair. Your grip is tight, but he doesn't care because he's where he should be. Where he wants to be. 

He rubs his nose over your clit a few times before nuzzling down. He just wants to breathe in deeply but he's so greedy that he can't wait and buries his tongue inside you. 

You tug him even closer into you and he reaches up one arm to wrap around the leg on his shoulder. His fingers dig into your thigh, half to cling desperately to you, half to help hold you up. The hand not holding onto his hair drops to hold onto his arm and your nails bite into his flesh. 

Michael eats you out like a man starving because that is what he is. He's starving for you. Your juices are soaking into his beard and all he cares about is More.

More of you. More for you. More You. 

If you want to ride his face until the sun rises tomorrow, then he will be on his knees all night for you. 

He fucks his tongue in and out of you, wanting to prove you aren't wrong to want him. He wants to show you how good he can be for you. 

You're the one who deserves to cum, not him. 

You start to grind your cunt into Michael's mouth. His other hand shoots up to grab onto your hip, encouraging the motions. He wants you to use him. He wants to beg for it but that would mean removing his mouth from you, and that's something he won't do unless you direct it. He's yours and he will do whatever you ask, and right now you want his mouth on your cunt.

He drinks greedily from you, helping you keep balance as you use him. It's not harsh, you're enjoying him. Your soft breathy moans are going straight through him and his cock twitches hard with each one. 

He dares to open his eyes. You're looking down at him, looking blissed out as he feels. 

He moans loudly when he feels your legs start to shake and tightens his grip on your hip and thigh, pulling you even closer. You hunch over him and you push your hand through his hair to the back of his neck. You start to grip the hairs there, but then your hand drops and grabs onto his collar. 

You yank on it and Michael's vision goes white. 

It feels like he's fucking floating. His toes are curled so tightly it hurts but in a fucked up good way. 

He knows your legs give out and you crumble into his lap, and the sudden change causes him to topple you both over, but it's like he's not aware of it. All his fucked out mind thinks is he can press his face into your neck again. 

You roll so both of you are on your sides, legs tangled together. You move his arms so they are wrapping around you loosely, then cradle his head to your neck. He hugs himself to you on instinct and buries his face into you. 

You hold him, one hand cupping the back of his neck, still holding the collar, the other tracing up and down his back.

He can feel it, on the edge of his haze, the soothing motions of your fingers. Part of him wants to give into the haze, follow it until he falls asleep. It's such a strong urge. 

But he wants to be with you more. Like this. Wrapped in each other, nothing else in the world mattering. 

He can feel you smiling against his temple. 

He did that. He made you smile like that - from his mouth, his hands, his actions. 

He just feels warmth radiating through him. 

He doesn't know how long you lay there on the floor, but eventually his hip starts to hurt and that pulls his mind away from the lazy way you were petting his spine. 

Michael turns his head so he can kiss your cheek while rolling you onto your back. Once he's over you, he presses his forehead to yours and smiles sleepily down at you. You return his smile with your own.

"Hey there," you whisper, stopping your motions so you can cup his jaw. "How're you feeling?"

He gives a pleased hum in response and nuzzles his nose against yours. Your smile grows and you close your eyes. 

You just barely put pressure on his jaw and guide him down to kiss you. 

It's slow. He still feels calm and hazy and he wants to stay in it a bit longer with you. You're on the same page as him - you keep the kiss nice and lazy. 

You hum against his lips and he pulls back just enough so you can speak, "Don't think I'm done with you yet."

"Yeah?" He asks, starting to pepper sweet kisses over your cheeks and chin. You melt under him, just a little bit, giving a happy sigh.

He takes the opportunity to start kissing down your jaw to your neck. He starts sucking a mark into you and you tilt your head to give him more access. It is a gift and he treats it as such, taking his time to enjoy you. The salt on your skin tastes so good on his tongue, where it's mixed with your juices. He lives for this raw essence of you. 

Michael starts to slide down you, intent on getting your nipple into his mouth, but you give the faintest tug on the chain around his neck. His head snaps up to look at you.

You're looking at him through your lashes, a hint of amusement in your pretty eyes. 

"The floor isn't very comfortable, Michael," you tease, dropping your hand away from him.

 He licks his lips and pushes himself up so he is kneeling between your legs. As he stands, he helps you up and as soon as you are in front of him, his hands go to your waist. You loop your arms around his shoulders while leaning forward so he is supporting your weight. 

"Can I take ya to bed?"

You push up on your toes so you can give him a sweet peck on the lips, before whispering against him, "No." 

Michael furrows his brows, confused. You kiss him again.

"But since you've been so good, I'll let you follow me into it."

You drag your nails across his back as you step away from him, stretching your arms out to put distance between you. He doesn't want that, so he tightens his grip on you and closes the gap, stepping into your space again. 

You smirk at his silent challenge. You hook a finger through the O-ring around his neck and lean in until your lips are barely brushing his.

"I said I'm not done with you, yet, Michael Kinsella. Don't make me change my mind."

He feels his cock start to twitch back to life with that and can't help the grin starting to spread across his face. 

"So how do ya want me?" 

You tilt your head towards the bed and he huffs a little laugh, "Aye." He drops his hands from you and lets you go to the bed. You sit on the mattress, then scoot back until you're fully on it and at the head of the bed. 

Michael waits until you are settled then climbs onto the bed and kneels by your feet. You lazily drag your eyes over him, sizing him up like you plan to devour him. 

You probably do. 

He's already half hard at the thought.

He wants to lean in and kiss you. He wants to show you how thankful he is for you, what you have done for him, but as you said, you aren't done with him, yet. 

Michael's more alert now - the feelings of drowning in his thoughts long gone and the wonderful drop you gave him fading away. He wants you. He wants you in every way you'll allow him. 

He's yours, heart and soul and body, and you are his. He wants to remind the world of that. He wants to mark you and fill you and claim you in every way that matters - to the world, to his family, to you. 

You lounge there, like you are waiting for him to make a move, but he won't. You told him to behave and even though he's itching to do just the opposite, he'll do as he's told. 

Michael's usually the one more in charge in the bedroom and this dynamic is still new and he doesn't want to mess it up. He didn't know how much he needed it until you proposed putting him on his knees and now he doesn't know if he could live without it. He wants to be your Pup, now and forever. 

You turn from him and arrange the pillows so you can lean back and be slightly propped up as well. You take your time with it and he enjoys just watching you, even if it is a tease.

You finally lay back and relax into the pillows. You go back to looking him up and down and while you do, you spread your legs. 

Michael leans forward so he can crawl on his hands and knees around your leg to get around it. He can't help but smile up at you. 

You reach for him and he very eagerly goes to you. You once again guide him towards you. He keeps his hands on the bed as he leans in to kiss you. 

"Woof," he whispers as your lips meet. 

You huff in fondness before he surges in to deepen the kiss. You melt under him, parting your lips for him and sinking down into your pillows, but he knows better than to think he's in charge. He just needs to be closer to you and you're allowing it. 

Michael resists the urge to grind his hips against yours. He's already worked up again, cock bobbing against his stomach, but he wants to take his time getting you to the same level. He's yours, and he'll do whatever you desire, but after you did such a good job caring for him, he wants to return the favor. 

He kisses down to your neck, nipping lightly as he does. It earns him a pleased sigh. Your fingers find their way to his hair, carding through it again. He's careful to not leave more marks, not because you don't like them, but because you haven't given him the permission again. 

Right now he just wants to touch and feel and be Yours. 

He bends his elbows so he can kiss down your chest without putting any of his weight on you. He nuzzles at your breasts, teasing your nipples with his tongue, but continues his path down instead of latching onto them. Michael wants his face between your thighs again and he doesn't want to wait. You don't redirect him, just drag your nails over his skull.

"Yer fuckin' perfect," he whispers as he lowers himself to lay on the covers. You put your legs over his shoulders and he turns his head so he can kiss your inner thigh, unable to stop the smile forming on his lips. He drags his lips down until he can nose at your slit. 

You're still so very wet given neither of you even attempted to clean up. He makes sure to get your juices all over his mouth, in his mouth. He wants to waste none of it, and once he's licked it all up, he finally starts towards your clit. You give a little whine when he first nudges it and part of him wants to tease, listen to all your pleading little noises because he's so addicted to them, but the weight of the chain hanging from his neck reminds him of his place. 

Michael finally sucks your bud into his mouth and the moan you give is music to his ears. He wants so badly to make you fall apart, to thank you for pulling him out of the darkness he was starting to drown in. 

"Michael," you gasp, arching your back just slightly and he has to resist grinding into the sheets like a teenager. 

He squirms a little to get more comfortable, repositioning his arms to hold your hips up just enough where he has the perfect angle to worship your cunt without making his neck ache. 

And worship Michael does. 

You grip his hair just enough he can feel it but it doesn't hurt and when he does something you like, your fingers curl and you scratch his head. He knows it's developing into something for him, because every time you do it his dick jumps. 

Between the two of you, his comforter is going to be soaked with your juices and his pre-cum. 

He growls at the thought and pulls you closer. You moan, digging your heels into his shoulder blades so you can push your hips up. 

He gets up into a kneel, gripping your hips to raise you up with him. Your knees go over his shoulders and he slides one hand to the small of your back to hold you up. You gasp at the sudden change but trust him to hold you up. Your thighs start to shake around his head. 

"Fuck, Princess," Michael groans when you rock into mouth. 

The hand not holding you up comes up over your belly and down to your clit. His thumb takes over for his mouth and he starts to fuck you with his tongue.

You taste so fucking good and your noises are just spurring him on. 

Your hand is so tight in his hair in the most perfect of ways. It's keeping him right against your cunt. He couldn't ask for anything more perfect. You are starting to pant and gasp. Your walls are pulsing around him and all he can do is chase your noises. 

For the second time that night you come on his tongue. He only pulls away when you tug at his hair. 

Despite how Hungry he is for you and his cock being so hard he feels like he wants to scream, he lowers you down to the bed with all the care in the world. 

He kisses your calf as he removes it from his shoulder. 

You relax into the bed, twisting a little to stretch out, a happy smile on your lips - enjoying the afterglow of your orgasm. He drinks in the sight of you and it makes his heart soar. 

You look so fucking beautiful and when you smile up at him, his brain just tells him to get closer to you.

Michael crawls forward until he can oh so gently kiss your lips. 

"Good boy," you purr, cupping his jaw and using your thumb to pet his cheek. "My good boy."

"I need ya, Princess," he says, pressing into your touch, "please let me have ya. Need to feel ya around my cock. Need all of ya."

You hum against him then take his bottom lip between your teeth to tease before releasing again, "Need you, too. Fuck me, Michael. Fuck me like you mean it."

He doesn't need to be told twice. 

He reaches between you so he can guide his cock to your opening. He rubs his head over your slit, getting himself nice and slick with your juices before starting to sink into you. 

You're so perfectly tight and start squeezing around him before he can fully sheath himself in you. 

"Gonna cum if ya keep that up," Michael grinds out, trying to keep control of himself. He wants to bury himself in you, but he doesn't want to hurt you.

"Want that, Puppy," you pull him back into a sweet kiss and you're biting at his lips again, "Want you to fill me up 'til it's leaking out of me. Want you to fuck me 'til there's nothing left in you to pump into me. Hear me? Can you do that for me, Puppy?"

Michael swears and rocks the rest of the way into you, only to pull back out halfway so he can slam back into you.

You want to be fucked and nothing is going to keep him from giving you just that. 

The pace he sets is brutal. 

But it's what you want and as he fucks you, you push the pillows down the bed until they are under your hips. The angle changes and he can bury himself even deeper into you. He growls out your name, tilting his hips as he pounds into you until his cock starts dragging across that sweet spot inside you. 

"Right there, Michael, puppy, my puppy, right there," you start to chant, wrapping your legs around his waist to keep him deep in you. 

He nods, sweat starting to drip down his face and arms. "Whatever ya want, love, I'm yours. Yours," he pants, words just falling out of him. 

One of your hands grips onto his bicep, nails digging into his flesh so hard it sends jolts down his spine. He gives a hard thrust in response and you cry out again. Your walls are squeezing him, pulling him deeper into you, and he just wants more.

He needs to feel you come undone around him. 

Michael's hand goes to your throat, wrapping around it and squeezing. 

Your entire body goes rigid as your orgasm rips through you. The headboard bounces off the wall repeatedly as he fucks you through it, but the loud thuds are covered by you screaming his name.

You're going to wake the whole damn neighborhood and the mere idea of it gives him a third wind.

He wants everyone to hear you. To know what he does to you. What you bring out of him. 

Michael is so lost in you, in making you feel like you're on another world, he doesn't notice your hands go up to his shoulders until you grab onto him. With a sudden movement, you roll, flipping your positions so he is under you. You snatch the wrist of the hand around your throat and pin it to the bed right above his head, that hungry hungry look back in your eyes. 

He is still inside you somehow and you purposefully squeeze around him. He rolls his head back with a loud groan, "Fuck, pet. Are ya trying to kill me?"

You drag your nails down his chest, digging in enough to leave angry red scratches. Michael hisses, the pain making his dick twitch inside you. You lean down so you can bump your nose against his, a wicked smile playing across your lips, and whisper against his lips, "I'm not your pet tonight, Michael. You're mine."

He almost loses it right then, needing to close his eyes tightly so he doesn't come before you are through with him.

"Put your other hand up, Puppy. Can't have you touching me again without my say so."

He easily obeys, throwing his other hand above his head. You cross his wrists and pushing them down into the bed with one hand.

"I'm sorry," he chokes out, having to focus so he doesn't buck up inside of you. 

Your other hand crawls up and you press it down on his throat, enough he can feel the weight of you, but there is no danger of you hurting him.

You so very slowly start to swirl your hips and Michael throws his head back. You know just how to work him - taking your time in teasing him. You're keeping him fully in you, just grinding your cunt against him. It is completely agonizing in the best of ways. He could spend forever like this and be over the moon with it.

Your lips brush his as you begin to speak in a hushed but authoritative tone.

"You belong to me, Michael Kinsella. Isn't that what you promised me?"

He tries his best to nod, but your hand keeps him in his place, "Aye, yes, I did. I promised ya. I'm yours. I'm yours."

You bite his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. 

His thighs start to shake. It's taking Everything in him to not flip you over and fuck you into the mattress. 

"What was the condition? What was the condition that I get to put Michael Fuckin' Kinsella on his knees and call him My Puppy?"

"That ya be Mine. I needed ya to be mine."

"So make me yours, Michael."

He flips you over and fucks you into the mattress.

He buries his hands into your hair, gripping it and tugging enough to make you cry out again. You squeeze around him and he nearly sees stars. 

He smashes your lips together and all teeth and hunger and Possessive. 

 You're his. 

You've seen all of him, every side of him, the happy, the sad, the anger, the blankness, the coked out of his mind, and quiet somber mornings. You've seen him beaten with a bat and held him after he spent the nights taking lives. 

And you're still his. 

"Michael, please!"

Your cunt clenches around him and you start to milk him as he starts to spill into you. He fucks you until he's completely spent, then all of his strength leaves him and he collapses down onto you. 

You catch him with a happy little noise and bury your nose into his hair. 

He still has enough awareness to pull out of you and roll over onto the bed so he won't crush you. You tuck yourself against him, throwing your arm over his chest and resting your head there with the most content sigh. He wraps his arm around you, holding you close against him. 

The moment he closes his eyes, Michael knows he's going to be asleep. When he looks down at you, he sees you are almost there. You look so peaceful and happy and it makes his heart soar. 

He presses his lips to your forehead. 

"Thank ya, Princess."

You tilt your head up, eyes just cracking open and smile up at him. 

"Thank you, Puppy."

And that's all you need to say between you.

You close your eyes at the same time as Michael and he drifts off without a single thought.

--

a/n: I posted this previously but realized i never posted it on tumblr, so im throwing it out there while I'm unable to write for ATIMY.

[cynic-spirit]

The Fear

Bucky didn’t like to admit it, and neither did any of the others, but there was a subtle, unspoken truth that they all shared: they were afraid of Yn when she got angry. Not the kind of fear that made them cower, but a deep-seated respect that bordered on trepidation. Yn, with her intense eyes and commanding demeanor, had a presence that could send just about anyone into a state of apprehension.

It wasn’t just her formidable intellect or her scholarly achievements; it was the way she could channel all that intensity into a look, a stance, a few well-chosen words that made even the toughest of them reconsider their actions. Bucky had seen her in such moments—her eyes narrowing, her posture straightening, and her voice taking on a steely edge that brooked no argument.

There was a time when Sam had accidentally spilled coffee on one of her prized first edition books. Yn’s reaction had been swift and fierce. She didn’t raise her voice, but the disappointment and frustration in her eyes had made Sam feel smaller than he ever had. “I expect better care for things of such value, Sam,” she had said, her voice low but cutting. Sam had apologized profusely, his usual confidence evaporating under her intense gaze.

Steve had experienced it too, when he’d once made a flippant comment about her meticulous nature. “Steve, the precision and care I put into my work are what set it apart. I would appreciate it if you respected that,” she had said, her eyes boring into his. Steve had nodded quickly, feeling the weight of her words and the unspoken command behind them.

But it was Bucky who felt it the most keenly. He, who could face down adversaries without flinching, found himself on edge when Yn directed her anger at him. There was something about her unyielding integrity, her unwavering sense of right and wrong, that made him want to be better, to avoid disappointing her at all costs. He remembered a time when he had been too rough in handling a delicate situation, and she had called him out on it. “Bucky, there are ways to handle things that don’t involve brute force. I expect you to find them,” she had said, her voice like steel wrapped in silk. He had nodded, feeling the full impact of her words.

No one dared to cross her when she was in that state. It wasn’t just fear; it was respect for the strength and depth of her convictions. They all knew that beneath her calm exterior lay a core of iron, and when that iron was heated by anger, it became a force to be reckoned with.

Yn’s anger was not wild or uncontrolled; it was focused and precise, like a scalpel. She wielded it with the same skill and precision she brought to everything else in her life. And it was this that made them all, even Bucky, tread carefully when they saw that look in her eyes.

In the quiet moments, away from the intensity of her gaze, they would joke about it, teasing Bucky about how the only thing that could make him truly nervous was an angry Yn. But deep down, they all knew the truth. Yn’s anger was something to be respected, and they were all better for knowing it. It kept them in line, reminded them of the standards they needed to uphold, and most importantly, it showed them the strength of the woman they all cared about in their own ways.

And for Bucky, it was a constant reminder of why he loved her so deeply. Her passion, her integrity, her unwavering strength—they were all things that drew him to her, even as they made him wary. She was his guiding star, the one he wanted to be worthy of, and he would do anything to avoid seeing that look of disappointment in her eyes.

It was a typical evening at Bucky’s club, the low hum of conversation mingling with the clinking of glasses and the soft strains of jazz playing in the background. Bucky sat in his usual spot, a quiet corner with a good view of the room, his eyes scanning the crowd with a practiced ease. Steve, Sam, Thor, and Nick were scattered around the room, each engrossed in their own conversations, but always keeping an eye on the door.

The atmosphere shifted the moment Yn entered. Her presence commanded attention effortlessly. She moved with a quiet grace, her dark academia style standing out in the dimly lit club. Tonight, she wore a tailored blazer over a deep green turtleneck, her pleated skirt brushing just above her knee-high boots. Her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, and her hair was swept up in a half updo, with a few strands elegantly framing her face.

As she stepped further into the club, her eyes scanning the room, she spotted Bucky. She took a deep breath and called out, her voice carrying a tone that was both commanding and unmistakable, “Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes!”

The sound of her full address, crisp and authoritative, sent a shiver down Bucky’s spine. It was rare for anyone to use his full name, and when Yn did, it was never without reason. He felt the weight of her words, the seriousness they carried, and knew that this was not a moment to be taken lightly.

All activity in the club seemed to pause for a split second, a brief moment of silence before the storm. The eyes of the staff and patrons flickered towards Yn and then quickly away, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. The members of Bucky’s inner circle, who had been so relaxed moments before, now exchanged quick, knowing glances.

“Good luck, Buck,” Steve murmured, clapping him on the shoulder before stepping away.

“You’re gonna need it, buddy,” Sam added with a sympathetic grin, his eyebrows raised in mock concern.

Thor chuckled, his deep voice rumbling, “Looks like you’re in for it now, Barnes. Best of luck.”

Nick, always the pragmatic one, gave a curt nod. “Hope you survive this one, man,” he said, before turning on his heel and heading towards the bar.

It was as if they were retreating from a battlefield, leaving Bucky to face the incoming storm alone. Bucky watched them disperse with a mix of amusement and apprehension. He straightened up in his seat, trying to steel himself for whatever was coming. Yn’s eyes were locked onto his, and as she approached, he could feel the intensity of her gaze.

The club’s lively buzz fell to an eerie quiet as Yn’s commanding voice echoed through the room. Her words hung in the air, causing a palpable shift in the atmosphere. Bucky’s friends, who had just been trying to make a hasty exit, froze in their tracks.

“I would like to talk to all of you if you would kindly oblige and take a seat,” Yn continued, her tone firm yet polite.

Steve, Sam, Thor, and Nick exchanged uneasy glances. They weren’t used to being on the receiving end of such authority, especially not from Yn. Despite their tough exteriors and formidable reputations, there was something about Yn’s composed demeanor and intense gaze that made them hesitate. It was as if they were back in boot camp, being called out by a superior officer.

Steve, ever the leader, was the first to move. He gave a subtle nod to the others, indicating they should comply. He walked to the nearest chair and sat down, trying to maintain a semblance of calm. His mind raced, wondering what had prompted this unexpected summons.

Sam followed suit, his usual confident swagger replaced with a cautious tread. He lowered himself into a chair next to Steve, casting a quick look at Bucky, who remained standing. Sam’s mind was already spinning scenarios, trying to guess what this could be about.

Thor, who was rarely intimidated, felt a strange sense of unease. Yn’s quiet authority was a stark contrast to the boisterous and often chaotic world he was used to. He took his seat with a bemused expression, his mind not quite processing how Yn, with her calm and scholarly demeanor, could command such presence.

Nick, always observant, noted the shift in the room’s energy. He knew better than to question it. He took his seat, his eyes darting between Yn and Bucky, trying to piece together the puzzle. There was a hint of admiration in his gaze; it wasn’t easy to command the attention of this group, yet Yn had done it effortlessly.

Bucky remained standing for a moment longer, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. He was torn between his protective instincts and the respect he held for Yn. Finally, he took a deep breath and moved to sit, his eyes never leaving Yn’s. He could feel the tension in the room, the unspoken questions hanging in the air.

The others watched Buckyfor cues. As he sat down, they settled into an uneasy silence, their anticipation palpable. They were all seasoned fighters, used to facing danger head-on, but this was different. This was Yn, and her presence had a way of cutting through their defenses.

As they sat, the room seemed to shrink, the distance between them and Yn closing in. Each of them felt a mix of curiosity and apprehension. What could she possibly want to discuss that required all of them? They waited, their breaths held, for Yn to speak again.

“It has come to my attention that there are certain activities happening without my explicit permission,” she began, her eyes scanning the room.

The men exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of her words sinking in. No one dared to speak, the silence amplifying the gravity of the situation. Yn’s gaze was piercing, leaving no room for evasion or deceit.

“Now I would like an honest answer,” she continued, her tone unwavering. “Who allowed four of my underage students into this club and gave them free drinks?”

She asked the question calmly, quietly, yet with a clarity that left no room for misinterpretation. The silence that followed was deafening. Each of the men shifted uncomfortably in their seats, avoiding her gaze.

Steve was the first to break the silence, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Uh, Yn, we didn’t… I mean, I don’t think any of us…” he trailed off, his usual confidence faltering under her intense scrutiny.

Sam glanced at Steve, then back at Yn. “Yeah, I mean, we didn’t know they were underage,” he added, his voice lacking its usual bravado. “We just thought they were… you know… guests.”

Thor, who rarely found himself at a loss for words, remained silent, his brows furrowed in confusion. He looked around the room, trying to piece together what had happened.

Nick, ever observant, was the most composed, though even he felt the weight of Yn’s question. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, Yn,” he said, his tone measured. “But we genuinely didn’t know. It must have been a mix-up at the door.”

Bucky, however, felt a surge of protectiveness and guilt. He knew that, as the leader, the responsibility ultimately fell on him. “I’ll handle it,” he said, his voice firm but not meeting Yn’s eyes. “This won’t happen again.”

Yn's disappointment hung heavily in the air. Her words cut deeper than any reprimand they had ever received.

“I am very disappointed in all of you,” she said, her voice firm and unyielding. The men looked down, unable to meet her gaze. The weight of her disappointment was palpable.

Then, with a deliberate motion, Yn took off her glasses, revealing her intense, penetrating eyes. She pursed her red lips slightly, a gesture that somehow amplified her authority. Turning her focus to Bucky, she pointed her glasses at him like a weapon.

“And you, Mr. Barnes,” she continued, her voice tinged with both hurt and reproach, “I expected a little more honor from you. You almost got me fired for your carelessness.”

Bucky’s heart sank at her words. The regret was clear in his eyes, but he knew that no apology could erase the mistake.

Without another word, Yn turned and left the room, her exit as calm and composed as her entrance. The door closed behind her with a soft click, leaving the room in a heavy silence.

For a moment, no one moved or spoke. Then, the tension broke with a collective exhale.

Steve was the first to speak, his voice a mix of respect and disbelief. “Well, damn. I don’t think I’ve ever been scolded like that in my life.”

Sam chuckled, though it was laced with unease. “Yeah, no kidding. I felt like a kid being told off by my mom.”

Thor, ever the straightforward one, looked around the room with a puzzled expression. “Why did she take off her glasses? Was that supposed to make it worse?”

Nick, shaking his head, gave Thor a knowing look. “When a woman takes off her glasses and points them at you, it’s serious. Trust me, you don’t want to see it again.”

Bucky, still reeling from her words, rubbed the back of his neck. “I really messed up this time.”

Steve, trying to lighten the mood, grinned and slapped Bucky on the back. “Hey, Buck, at least she didn’t throw the glasses at you. That would’ve been worse.”

Sam joined in, a playful smirk on his face. “Or worse, made you wear them as punishment.”

Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle, despite his lingering guilt. “You guys are idiots,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Nick, ever the voice of reason, leaned in. “Alright, jokes aside, we need to fix this. We can’t let this happen again. We need to tighten our protocols.”

The group nodded in agreement, the playful banter giving way to a renewed sense of purpose. Bucky, despite his initial embarrassment, felt a surge of determination. He wouldn’t let Yn down again. He couldn’t.

Just then, the door opened slightly, and Jorah poked his head in. “Is it safe to come back now?”

The men laughed, the tension finally dissipating. “Yeah, Jorah , it’s safe,” Steve said with a grin. “But be careful. I think Yn’s glasses are still loaded.”

Jorah entered cautiously, looking around as if expecting an ambush. “Noted,” he said, a hint of a smile on his face.

As the group began discussing the necessary changes, Bucky couldn’t help but think of Yn’s parting words. Her disappointment had cut deep, but it also fueled his resolve. He would prove himself worthy of her trust and respect. And he would ensure that nothing like this ever happened again. As the group continued chatting, Bucky suddenly spoke up with an unexpected confession. “You know, I’m so turned on right now for her. I swear, when she takes off those damn glasses and looks at me with those brown eyes, I can’t think straight.”

The meeting ended on a more serious note, with each member committed to preventing such mistakes in the future. But the playful banter would return, as it always did, a testament to their bond and resilience.

[running-in-the-dark]

it really sucks when you know you could fix something soo easily if you just.. you know, had a functioning brain and all that

[weaselle]

i want to talk about real life villains

Not someone who mugs you, or kills someone while driving drunk, those are just criminals. I mean VILLAINS.

Not like trump or musk, who are... cartoonishly evil. And not sexy villains, not grandiose villains, not even satisfyingly two dimensional villains it is easy to hate unconditionally. The real villains.

I had a client who was a retired executive for one of the big oil companies, i think it was Shell or Chevron. Had a home just outside of San Francisco that was wall to wall floor to ceiling full of expensive art. Literally. I once accidentally knocked a painting off the wall because it was hanging at knee height at the corner of the stairs, and it had a little brass plaque on it, and i looked up the name of the artist and it was Monet's apprentice and son-in-law, who was apparently also a famous painter. He had an original Andy Warhol, which should have been a prize piece for anyone to showcase -- it was hanging in the bathroom. I swear to god this guy was using a Chihuly (famous glass sculptor) as a fruit bowl. And he was like, "idk my wife was the one who liked art"

I was intrigued by this guy, because in the circles i run this dude is The Enemy. right? Wealthy oil executive? But as my client, he was... like a sweet grandpa. A poor widower, a nice old man, anyone who knew him would have called him a sweetheart. He had a slightly bewildered air, a sort of gentle bumbling nature.

And the fact that he was both of these things, a Sweet Little Old Man and The Enemy, at the same time, seemed important and fascinating to me.

He reminded me of some antagonist from fiction, but i couldn't put my finger on who. And when i did it all made sense.

John Hammond.

probably one of the most realistic bad guys ever written.

If you've only ever seen the movie, this will need some explaining.

Michael Crichton wrote Jurassic Park in 1990, and i read it shortly thereafter. In the movie, the dinosaurs are the antagonists, which imo erases 50% of the point of the story.

book spoilers below.

In the book, John Hammond is the villain but it takes the reader like half the book to figure that out. Just like my client, John is a sweet old man who wants lovely things for people. He's a very sympathetic character. But as the book progresses, you start to see something about him.

He has an idea, and he's sure it's a good one. When someone else dies in pursuit of his dream, he doesn't think anything of it. When other people turn out to care about that, he brings in experts to evaluate the safety of his idea, and when they quickly tell him his idea is dangerous and needs to be put on hold, he ignores his own experts that he himself hired, because they are telling him that he is wrong, and he is sure he is right.

In his mind, he's a visionary, and nobody understands his vision. He is surrounded by naysayers. Several things have proven too difficult to do the best and safest way, so he has cut corners and taken shortcuts so he can keep moving forward with his plans, but he's sure it's fine. He refuses to hear any word of caution, because he believes he is being cautious enough, and he knows best, even though he has no background in any of the sciences or professions involved. He sends his own grandchildren out into a life-threatening situation because he is willfully ignorant of the danger he is creating.

THIS is like the real villains of the world. He doesn't want anyone to die. Far from it, he only wants good things for people! He's a sweet old man who loves his grandchildren. But he has money and power and refuses to hear that what he is doing is dangerous for everyone, even his own family.

I think he's possibly one of the most important villains ever written in popular fiction.

In the book, he is killed by a pack of the smallest, cutest, "least dangerous" dinosaurs, because a big part of why we read fiction is to see the villains face thematic justice. But like a cigarette CEO dying of lung cancer, his death does not stop his creation from spreading out into the world to continue to endanger everyone else.

I think it is really important to see and understand this kind of villainy in fiction, so you can recognize it in real life.

Sweetheart of a grandfather. Wanted the best for everyone. Right up until what was best for everyone inconvenienced the pursuit of his own interests.

And my client was like that too. His wife had died, and his dog was now the love of his life, and she was this little old dog with silky hair in a hair cut that left long wispy bits on her lower legs. Certain plant materials were easily entangled in this hair and impossible to get out without pulling her hair which clearly hurt her. When i suggested he ask his groomer to trim her lower leg hair short to avoid this, he refused, saying he really liked her usual hair cut.

I emphasized that she was in pain after every walk due to the plant debris getting caught in her leg hair, and a simple trim could put an end to her daily painful removal of it, and he just frowned like i'd recommended he take a bath in pig shit and said "But she'll be ugly" and refused to talk about it anymore.

Sweet old man though. Everyone loved him.

[sol-flo]

i'm going to destroy this damn phone

- the boss avoider

[happy74827]

Say Yes to Heaven

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Sometimes all it takes is one look. One gesture. One word. One action. To remind them that not everyone sees them the same, and It's enough to send a person over the edge.

WC: 3690

Category: Fluff, First Kiss, Logan’s POV

Another Grumpy!Logan x Sunshine!Reader because it’s my comfort trope ✨🫶

『••✎••』

He never realized how much he wanted someone to care for.

It was something he didn't know he desired. A year ago, he didn't care for a single thing. He felt nothing. He was so numb. So empty.

He was an angry man. The kind of man people kept their distance from. Wade ruined that; he aggravated him so much that Logan started actually caring about his life. And for as much as he despised his fugly ass, he was internally grateful for him. He started to open up more and more.

Wade had a part in taking him out of rock bottom, as they say, but you… you aggravated him in the most endearing way possible. You were so bright, so happy, and full of life. Logan couldn't understand how someone could be like that, and he hated you for it. He thought it was so ignorant of you.

"I mean, come on, how could she be that happy all the time? It's fucking dumb. She doesn't even know me!"

That's what he said to Wade, but his roommate only laughed. He found his frustration hilarious and made fun of him constantly.

And don’t even get started on the way you spoke. Never once have you raised your voice at anyone. You always talked softly, and even if you were pissed off, you still found a way to make your words sound gentle.

The man couldn’t wrap his mind around the way you acted, you weren’t a mutant, but you damn well could have been with that forever customer service smile you wore every day.

The level of patience and understanding you held for people was insane to him, especially the amount of patience you held with him.

He was constantly telling you to fuck off, and you took no offense; you just returned that stupidly kind smile and told him that if he needed anything, you were there for him.

You had no clue what he’s done, what he's capable of, and yet you treat him with the utmost respect. And being a mutant, respect, and kindness were two things he hadn’t received in a very long time.

It made him realize things—about himself and others. He started noticing you a little more—the way you looked and the way you acted. It started out as simple confusion and disgust… the typical reactions one would have when one sees an overly happy person.

But it evolved slowly into intrigue and curiosity.

Then something else. Something he couldn't describe.

His first instinct was to push it away. To try and convince himself, he was disgusted. He did this with everything he felt, but he couldn’t keep lying to himself.

It wasn't disgust.

He couldn't name it; he wasn't ready to, but he knew it wasn’t that.

Wade had noticed the change in him, the way he looked at you, the way he started being a little less rough with the words he chose to say. He didn’t bring it up, but the shit-eating grin he gave each time Logan walked in and saw you was more than enough proof that he had picked up on it.

Of course, it only resorted to grins because the one time he opened his mouth, Logan didn’t restrain himself. He popped his claws and had to go couch shopping the next day.

Whoops.

So, with Wade keeping his mouth shut after being chewed out by Blind Al and Logan trying his best to push away the foreign feelings, it finally reached a point where he could no longer ignore them.

He didn’t understand why, of all nights, it had to be this one, but it was.

It was 3 am, and his old nightmares had come back to haunt him. He was restless, sweaty, and couldn't take another second of sleep.

It took a rinsing of the bathroom sink and a pitiful glare at his reflection for you to return his gaze.

He froze for a second.

You were wearing a large T-shirt, with a pair of shorts underneath. Your hair was messy, but it looked so soft, and your face was clear of makeup, leaving the imperfections of your skin that made you all the more beautiful.

Always wearing a smile. Always greeting him with a soft voice, sometimes a little raspy if just waking up, butnonetheless soft.

But once he rubbed his eyes and let out a tired yawn, you weren’t there anymore.

Because you were never there, you lived across the street. You were in your apartment, sleeping, with no idea that, at that moment, the man who constantly told you to fuck off realized he couldn't stop thinking about you.

The same man who would grunt, scoff, and throw away every kind gesture now realized he secretly cherished them.

He stood there for a moment, just pondering his thoughts. His eyes were still on the spot he saw you in.

His head turned to the right, seeing the digital clock that rested on the nightstand.

3:02 am.

You were asleep…. most likely asleep. You would be unhappy if he came over and woke you up, wouldn't you?

He looked back at the sink.

You could be upset, but you could also be happy. You could give him that smile. That sweet, warm smile.

It would be worth it, right? Just for that?

3:04 am

He didn’t think about it. Not even for a second. Ironically, it started raining as if to test him, but the man was determined.

He put on a jacket to cover his bare chest, threw on some random shoes, and was out the door before his mind could stop him.

3:13 am

He knocked on your apartment door. He was completely drenched from the rain. His hair was messy, his jacket sticking to his body, and his shoes were so wet that the squelching sound they made was the only thing audible.

He heard shuffling. Soft steps coming closer. He could smell your scent. It shocked him how easy it was for him to recognize it.

You unlocked the door. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

His mental image of you being in sleepwear, messy hair, no makeup, had been confirmed. You were beautiful.

You had a tired look, one of the many looks he wasn’t used to. But it was still a good look, and it still held your signature kindness.

He had a feeling it would.

You didn't look too shocked, just tired and confused.

You spoke. "Logan, is…? Are you okay?"

Your voice was even softer than usual, the raspiness it held only making it more comforting.

You were genuinely worried about him, and it hit him then that he was being an asshole. Making you wake up in the middle of the night, and for what? Just because he wanted to see you?

Just because of that, he should’ve given you a reason. An explanation.

He should've asked. He should have done so many things differently, but he didn’t.

His head was in the clouds, and all he could think about was you.

You. That was all.

But his expression gave away that he was in a daze, and your worry only grew.

"Logan? What's wrong?"

You stepped out into the hallway and reached a hand to him.

His heart jumped a bit when you did so. It was just a gesture—one simple act of compassion.

He wasn't worthy of that, but he couldn't resist. He didn't want to.

Your fingers barely brushed against his upper arm before he moved. He grabbed your wrist.

His grip wasn't hard. His hold was gentle, as he had no intentions of hurting you. You could’ve easily pulled your arm away if you wanted to, but you didn't.

His eyes locked with yours. He wasn't sure what possessed him, but it felt so right, so he followed his instincts.

He tugged at your wrist, causing your body to fall into him. Your chest pressed against his. His arms wrapped around you, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other resting on the small of your back.

The embrace was so sudden, and he knew the situation was far from ideal, but his senses were overflowed by your presence, your scent, your softness.

His chin rested atop your head, and his eyes fluttered closed.

It wasn’t the first time he ever hugged someone, but it was the first time he hugged someone in such a way. He held onto you tightly, his grip possessive but not painful.

He was afraid to let go.

He felt your hands press against his chest. You were probably going to push him away, he thought, and he tried to prepare himself. He told himself he would let you go because it was the right thing to do, yet he didn’t need to.

You hugged him back, and he almost lost his footing.

How long had it been since he last received a hug? Since the last time, someone held him and showed him affection?

Too long.

Your hands went inside his opened jacket and held onto him. Your fingers pressed against his skin, and your soft, warm breaths caressed his neck.

He could stay like this for eternity, and he would never grow tired of it.

Your voice reached his ears.

"Logan, did something happen?"

He had been standing there for quite a while. He wasn’t aware of how long. Time seemed to freeze around you, but he didn’t mind. He wasn't one to believe in such nonsense, but when it came to you, he was ready to accept it.

Your hand rested on his arm, and he knew you were subtly prompting him to move, and so he did.

He pulled away from the hug just enough to look at you.

Your lips were turned upwards. The corners of your eyes creased.

"Logan?"

It was then that his actions registered—how utterly close the two of you were, how intimately you were holding each other. He was already warm just from genetics alone, but now he felt everything around him heat up.

"I-"

He didn't know what to say. It was like he was back in that bar, drinking away every thought. He couldn't think. There was nothing. Nothing but the feel of your body against his.

But what truly sealed the deal was when he felt your thumb gently caress his knuckles. It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but it was centered exactly on the scars his claws made.

That little movement made his brain short-circuit. His hands twitched. His grip tightened. He held onto you with his entire body as if scared to let you go.

"What happened?"

You were patient with him. The fact that he hadn’t even answered any of your concerns said enough.

But, eventually, he did find some words to respond with. It wasn’t the answer you were searching for, but it was a response.

"Why are you always being so fucking kind?"

It was such a simple question, and yet the amount of pain it carried was overwhelming. He knew you could hear every word behind it. Every word he couldn't bring himself to say.

He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a good man. He did horrible things, and sure… he made an attempt to make up for it. To be better, but it couldn’t have been enough, could it?

You were still here, looking at him with those soft eyes.

Why couldn't you look at him the way he deserved to be looked at? Like he was a monster.

Why did you have to look at him with those goddamn beautiful eyes?

"You deserve kindness, Logan. We all do."

And then, your voice became even softer and a little shaky. Your hands went back to massaging his knuckles. His scars.

"Just because you see yourself a certain way doesn’t mean the rest of us do. I see the good in you. Always have since we first met."

You spoke so softly, yet your words were heavy with emotion.

"I know it's not easy, but try to have a little more faith in yourself."

You didn’t deserve the harsh words he always threw at you. You didn’t deserve any of his anger. You didn't deserve him.

"Why?" He repeated his question, his voice strained, and you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched. "Why should I?"

His arms loosened their hold around you; his hands moved down your sides, and his touch feathered light. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he couldn’t quite let go just yet.

You paid it no mind. Only staring back into his eyes with the same kindness he was so used to, the one he had grown to treasure.

"You have a right to feel the way you do, Logan. And I can't claim to understand what you've been through. I can't begin to imagine. But you are a good man. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but you’ve shown me time and time again that you're trying."

A smile crept its way onto your face, and a soft giggle escaped past your lips.

Now, to be fair, he was used to hearing your laughter. With your… odd sense of humor, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. But, this would be one of the firsts to add to his collection.

The one reserved for him and him only.

Your laughter wasn’t loud, or annoying, or anything like Wade's. It was soft, sweet, and oh-so pleasant.

You were looking at him. Staring up at him with such love and warmth. You didn't even realize it, but he did.

"Besides, who wouldn't be a little grouchy waking up to that handsome face every morning?"

And, now, he was repulsed by the unwelcome vision of a certain masked man making his way into his head. He was so disgusted by the thought he didn’t bother responding. He didn't want to.

So, instead, he moved.

He had a habit of moving on his own and not thinking about it. It went from his hands going to your sides, and now, his hands reaching out to press against the door behind you.

You were pinned against the door, and the way you looked at him didn’t change. Of course, it didn't. Your eyes were always kind. They always were.

You were leaning against the door. Looking at him, waiting.

And he stared back.

He was so close, and he was tempted to pull away. To take a step back and leave. It would be the best for both of you; at least, he thinks so.

He couldn't give you anything.

He had nothing.

There was only himself. His body. His mind. His past.

His claws, too, if that counted for anything.

But, besides those, there was nothing.

He wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn't good either. Not like you were. He couldn’t possibly begin to match you, not even if he tried.

Which is why he had no intention of trying.

Yet, even as he thought that, his body moved even closer. The dog tags he had never taken off since he was given them hung loosely, dangling in front of your face.

One of your hands was on his chest, the other gripping onto the material of his shirt.

"Logan."

You spoke his name so softly. Almost a whisper, and yet, the sound of it was all his senses were focused on.

Your gaze shifted between his eyes and lips, and the hand that had been holding onto his shirt moved, reaching up to his shoulder.

The touch was light, as if hesitant, and it caused him to lean even closer.

It was so close. You were so close. You had been before, but never like this. Never in the way he wanted.

He wanted you so badly.

And you were right there. Looking at him with those eyes, with a soft, tender smile, and with an expression he didn't recognize.

He knew that was an invitation. You were always an open book, and your body language was no different.

And it wasn't the first time you did so.

There were many times when you looked at him. Your eyes trailing over his face. Your gaze went downwards, lingering before you snapped out of it and looked away.

He always saw it, always knew it was there, but he just chose to ignore it. He wasn’t in the right mind, then. He was just another broken man, struggling to get by, trying his best.

Trying to find some meaning in his life.

But, even now, he was still hesitant. Even after coming all the way here and making his intentions clear, he struggled with it.

"Are you sure?"

Because you were so much better than him.

Because he could still remember the day the two of you met. How much of an asshole he was, how rude, how angry.

It wasn’t until the seventh time you approached him that he realized that he had met someone who genuinely, wholeheartedly cared.

It wasn't until the twentieth time you approached him that he finally accepted it.

He could never forget the way you smiled and spoke to him, even though he had given you no reason to.

"Hi, Logan!"

You would say.

"Good morning!"

You would wave.

"Have a nice day, Logan."

You would nod, even though the man himself chose to ignore you. Goddamn it. You were so much better than him.

Much purer. Much more innocent.

You had a heart of gold, and a soul as white as snow. You were so good, so kind, and the thought of soiling you, of ruining your light with his darkness, it scared him.

It was the sole reason he didn't give in, even now, with you offering yourself to him.

He didn't want to ruin you.

"Yes."

No hesitation. No second thoughts.

Your eyes were so kind. So full of love, and the same emotion reflected back in his own.

But, even with the clear sign of assurance, he still felt the need to create one last line of defense.

With the hand against the door, he peeled it back enough to have your eyes catch sight of the fist it made.

In a millisecond, he unleashed his claws and slammed his fist against the door, the sharp adamantium easily slicing through the wood, causing the door to crack.

And, yet, no reaction. Not a single flinch, not a wince, not even a hitch of breath.

You weren't afraid. Not at all. Even as the claws were mere inches from your face, you weren't scared.

The corners of your mouth twitched. Upwards, and it soon bloomed into a bright smile.

He retracted his claws, and gave you another once-over, just to be sure, and you responded by lifting your hand, grasping the metal chain hanging from his neck.

Your fingers grazed against the cool metal, and your smile softened before turning into a small grin.

"For a man who states he isn’t scared of anything, you sure have a lot of defense mechanisms, Logan."

Teasing. That was a new one for you.

He liked it.

"Say it again." Now, finally, you showed a different expression. Confusion mixed with curiosity. You were wondering what he meant. "My name."

"Logan."

For you, his actions were mere seconds. You had no time to process the feeling of his breath against your lips. The feeling of his stubble tickling your skin. The feeling of his warm, dry lips pressed against yours.

But, for him, it was a slow, steady motion. He took his time. He pulled you closer, his hands moving from the door and cupping the back of your head and your waist.

The kiss was soft. Gentle. Nothing rushed.

He held you like you were fragile. Like you were made of porcelain and could break at any moment. He could, theoretically, but he would rather go through Cassandra’s entire repertoire of torture than hurt you.

He lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck, his own pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your skin.

You tasted exactly how you were. Pure. Sweet.

Like heaven.

He was sure he was leaving that of the bitter alcohol he had downed on your lips, but you didn't seem fussy about it.

Not that he could focus on anything else, anyway.

He was too distracted by the way his tongue danced with yours.

Too focused on the taste of your mouth.

Too distracted by the way your hands made themselves a home in his wet hair. They would tug every once in a while, releasing a groan he hadn’t known was there.

He was too distracted to care.

He was too lost in your scent. Wade always called him that character from that shity vampire movie due to his nose.

He always disagreed until you happened to mention the resemblance. Then, and only then, did he see the logic.

And you saw the logic here, too—the logic of how good you melted together. Experiencing it now made him question his decision to stay away.

If it was always going to be this good, this intoxicating, he should’ve done it a long time ago.

He should've taken the chance.

It would've saved the two of you a lot of frustration, and a lot of headaches.

But it didn't matter. He was here now.

And, as his foot broke into the door, mouth still latched onto yours, with him figuring his way about your apartment, he thought:

It doesn't matter.

As long as I’m here.

As long as you’re in my arms.

It doesn't matter.

Fortunately, that meant he didn’t have to wake up to that toupee-stapled face every morning, as he had so dreadfully imagined.

Unfortunately, it also meant that the next time he saw Wade, he would have to deal with him talking his ears off about what had transpired.

But, for now, he could live with that.

He was more focused on the fact on making sure you weren’t regretting your choice.

Because he sure as fuck didn’t.

[bluebellhairpin]

What does it mean if boy you've been talking to for a few months asks you which of the trio you like and then presents you with an Armin pop the next time you meet bc you said you liked Armin best?

[fingertipsmp3]

This thing I've just coded for my assignment is genuinely dogshit but I think I kind of have to just submit it 🫠

[luveline]

could you write plss write something about JJ’s confession and spencer is with bombshell reader and loves her entirely but she gets extremly scared and insecure??

Your usual confidence is shaken after JJ’s confession, but Spencer is emphatically in love with you. fem, 1.5k

Spencer gives you a rundown after every case. Not just as a colleague who missed it, but as his partner who he loves. This one comes out slowly. Maybe even reluctantly. 

He’s recounting the moment JJ had been forced to tell a secret. “She told me she’s always loved me, but that things are too complicated now.” 

You freeze in total bewilderment, your mug of hot tea swelling over the rim to warm your fingers. Further overwhelmed, you set it down on the coffee table. 

You’re in pyjamas on the couch. Spencer sits in sweatpants on the other end of it, his own cup of tea in hand. He’s watching you carefully. You’d felt generously comfortable only moments ago, riding the high of his continued survival, but now you’re feeling sick.. 

“She told you she loves you?”  

“That she was too scared to tell me before.” 

“And what do you think about that?” 

“I think if I never met you, I would’ve spent half of my life calling after her.” His lips quirk into one of those typical awkward Spencer smiles. “What should I think?” 

“I can't really tell you what to think, Spencer.” 

If he never met you, he’d still want JJ? Or if you weren’t in the way, he’d be with her now? Or what? 

You’ve never been the insecure type, to begin. You met Spencer when you were both rookies trying to establish themselves in the BAU, Spencer as a new member, and you as a hopeful applicant. Each time you liaised, or came around to annoy your good friend Derek Morgan, Spencer would be there, looking cute and lonely as ever. It was easy to become his friend. Easier again to fall in love with him. 

Not easy to convince him you truly wanted to be with him, but you were persistent, and… honestly, you’ve never been in love with someone like you have Spencer. That’s why JJ’s confession sends ice water down your back. 

He lets you steep for a few minutes, but ultimately can’t take the weird silence. 

“Hey,” he says, clear worry in his tone as he puts his own mug on the coffee table and moves to sit beside you, his hand falling onto your knee. “Hey, what’s that face about?” 

“What face?” you ask, schooling your expression. 

“That face.” His head tips to the side. 

“I’m not making a face.” 

“I know you…” he says, a tenderness to him as his hand slips under your leg, his fingers pressing into the softest skin behind your knee. 

“What else did she say?” 

He nods with understanding. “She said she was too scared to say it before, and that things are complicated now, I guess because everything’s changed so much.” 

“She has a family.” 

“Angel, even if she didn’t, you think that would make a difference?” He finds your hand for kissing. “What do you think I said to her? I love you. I told her I love you, she already knew that, but I told her again. I said there’s nothing complicated about it.” 

You stare at him. 

“Nothing complicated about it,” he repeats, pressing your kissed hand to his neck and covering it soundly with his own.  

You’re not expecting the insecurity of it. You and Spencer have never been on surer footing. Every day with him seems to guarantee the next. He just has to look at you and you know he’s your person, but you forgot he could just love somebody else if he wanted to. You forgot he even liked JJ to begin with. This sudden reminder is like having your legs kicked out from under you. 

You panic. 

“I love you,” he says, your hand moving down, pressed with fever to his chest. “More than anyone.” 

“I love you too… I just– I guess I thought JJ was my friend,” you say. 

“She is. She said she needed something that would shock the UnSub… I don’t think she expected anything to change. We just needed to get out of there.” 

He almost died and you’re thinking about JJ. Shit, JJ could’ve died. 

You bow your head. “I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, no, for what? For what?” He sandwiches you to his side. “I’m sorry, it’s not fair. It puts you in a bad position. But you don’t have anything to worry about, I love you, and I don’t have any feelings for JJ.” 

You wonder if that’s true. 

You’re being unlike yourself. Embarrassed, you hide your face in his collar and let him hug you gently. 

“Sorry.” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I have no idea what to do right now.” 

Insecurity isn’t your style, but it’s not something that can be helped. You have, through everything, pioneered desperately to put your best foot forward. You wear clothes ordered to fit and then tailored for good measure, you take care of your appearance in a way that others might find objectionable. Who you are outwardly is just as important to you as the inward, which makes this all the worse. You hate being out of control. 

Spencer can make it better, despite his insistence on cluelessness. “You know it could never be anyone else but you, right?” he asks softly. 

“Sorry, I’m just… I’m not angry because she didn’t have a choice, but do you really believe she didn’t mean it? She could’ve made up a hundred different lies.” 

“I think she meant it,” he says, still speaking softly. 

“You understand why that would freak me out, right? If you never met me, you could be with her.” 

“I can’t imagine a universe where we don’t meet,” he says. 

Spencer delivers it with that sincere yet shy honesty that he tends to say many things. Like it’s simple, like he’s aware of how cleanly cut it is, and like he’s worried you won’t agree with him. 

You try not to act so small, straightening your back, and sewing an arm behind his neck and over his shoulder. You’re not feeling a hundred percent just yet, and so you press your forehead to his cheek, his hair kissing your  ear. Spencer drags your leg across his thigh and lets you stew for a little while. 

“I don’t want to be with JJ.” He squeezes you closer, nearly has you in his lap. “Is that what you’re worried about? If I never met you, I wouldn’t want to be with her, because she had no interest in me, or– or maybe she did, but she didn’t show it. I know exactly what it feels like now to be loved without remorse, to– to never be told I’m too much. JJ is one of my best friends in the whole world, but you’re my heart. You’re the only person who’s ever liked me for me, all of me, even when I know it wasn’t easy.” 

“It’s always easy,” you murmur.

“That’s not the only reason I love you, but it’s important. JJ’s smart and she’s beautiful and she’s such a good mom, but she’s not you. She could never be you, and I don’t want anyone that isn’t you.” 

You don’t want him to say cruel things about JJ and you’re glad when he doesn’t, but you definitely need his assurance that he prefers you. Then you feel silly, because it’s your bed he comes home to, your hip he’s caressing as he waxes poetic for you. 

You feel less like he doesn’t love you and more like you’ve made a fool of yourself for even suggesting it. “Am I your best friend?” you ask (childishly, depending on who you ask). 

“You’re my best friend. You’re the best friend. Every day I get to be with you is perfect.” 

“That’s really romantic,” you mumble, nearly not quite kidding as you rub the tip of your nose into his cheek. 

“You bring it out of me.” 

You sigh and wrap your arms around him tightly. “Thanks, Dr. Reid. I think you fixed me.” 

“You’re still making a face.” 

“You almost died today, baby. JJ isn’t the sole thing on my mind.” 

“Almost died is an exaggeration. We almost die all the time.” 

You sniff his hair at your discretion. When he holds you like he’s doing now, you realise you have no need to worry. How can he squeeze your soft sides and chase your nose with his if he doesn’t mean what he says? Spencer’s not like that. 

“I’m sorry I overreacted,” you say. 

“I don’t think you did. But would you feel better if I say it’s okay? Because it’s okay. I’m sorry for telling you something I knew would upset you, but we don’t–”

“Have secrets, I know.” 

You give him a teeny kiss by his ear. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs pleasantly. 

You press another right on top of the first. Slower, you peel away to stroke his hair. His eyes hold all the proof you need —you’re loved without competition. 

[okaylikeschaewon]

KAMPFyre: Part 3 - Future

~6.5k words, final part to this trilogy (more info in A/N at end), smut

“Where’s your phone?”

Responding was barely a possibility for you as you gasped for air, your chest heaving up and down as you lay on the couch. Without saying anything, you motioned generally towards your pants which were haphazardly thrown across the room in a mess on the floor.

“Code?”

“That’s… a secret…” you huffed, slowly regaining your breath.

Karina walked across the room and held your phone up to your face.

“Hey, that’s cheating,” you whined while making no effort to stop her.

She ignored you and started typing into your phone.

“You don’t have a girlfriend do you?” she asked, pausing and looking up from the screen.

“I feel like that’s something you should have asked earlier,” you laughed as you slipped your shirt back on.

“Do you?” Karina snapped at you. “I’ll delete my number right now if you do.”

“No, really, I don’t,” you chuckled, reaching for your underwear.

Karina held your phone up for a second as you were about to put on your underwear before she started typing into it.

“Did you just take a picture of my dick with my phone?”

“Yeah, I needed to send myself a message,” Karina replied nonchalantly before holding your phone out to you. “Don’t worry, as long as you didn’t lie about the girlfriend thing, no one else will see it.”

“You didn’t actually send it, did you?” you pressed as you slipped your underwear on.

“Of course I did.”

“Delete it.”

“No,” Karina laughed in your face. “Here, since you’re being such a baby about it,” she added after seeing your expression. The girl held your phone up and posed for a selfie. “There you go, the picture you got is worth way more, trust me.”

“What am I supposed to do with your number?” you asked, catching your phone as Karina tossed it to you.

“Oh my God,” Karina paused, shirt in hand, staring at you with mouth agape. “Did I just fuck an idiot?”

“Ha ha very funny,” you rolled your eyes and gestured towards your pants. “You know what I mean.”

“Well,” Karina replied while picking up your pants and handing them to you. “Depending on how tonight goes, maybe I’ll reply when you text me.”

“Tonight?” you inquired, a bit too excitedly.

“Awh, look at you,” Karina teased, staring at your crotch, not missing any opportunity to give you shit. “You’ll have to wait until we’re back at the hotel, unfortunately I’m in a bit of a rush and don’t have time for another round.”

After you slipped your pants on, you patiently watched Karina dress herself. She checked herself with her phone’s camera, clearly unhappy with the state of her hair. Despite her frustration, she settled with pulling her hood up before walking over to where you were sitting. Without any warning, she straddled your lap and stretched the neck of your shirt over your shoulder.

“What the fuck!” you shouted, almost instinctively throwing her off you as she bit into your skin.

“Something to remember me by,” Karina giggled as she stood up. “We’ll continue this at the hotel,” she instructed you while walking towards the door.

Naturally, you began following her when she stopped and turned around.

“You can’t come with me you idiot,” Karina said, looking at you in disbelief. “I swear you’re as dumb as Winter.”

“Why not?”

“Obviously because if anyone sees us they’ll start dating rumors,” Karina tutted. “Especially if they see that mark I left you.”

“How am I supposed to know how this shit works?” you countered. “I’ve never had to deal with dating scandal bullshit.”

“And to keep it that way, you’re going to arrive separately,” Karina instructed in a sarcastic over-the-top sweet voice. “Neither of us wants to deal with that, trust me.”

As soon as Karina closed the door behind her, you pulled out your phone and were about to delete the text she sent. Your plan changed, however, when you opened your phone and were greeted with the selfie she took; It definitely came as a surprise to see the selfie included much more than her face.

—

“You didn’t tell me you were sharing a room,” you whispered as soon as you heard the sound of the shower running.

“Oh fucking relax, you’re very familiar with her already,” Karina entered the hallway and closed the door behind her. “After I’m done with you, maybe you can convince her that your magic nut will make her skin glow or something.”

“It’s Winter? Wait then why are we leaving?” you joked as you followed Karina down the hallway.

“Ex’ fucking ‘scuse me?” she stopped and turned on her heels, glaring at you. “Go.”

She glowered at you, arms crossed, daring you to push the joke further. Part of you considered it, but you decided against risking it. Not an easy choice, not when Karina looked so fucking sexy when she was mad - a great combination when paired with her very short temper.

“That’s what I thought,” she turned back around and continued walking.

“You didn’t give me much of a choice,” you said while catching up with her. “I don’t have the keycard.”

Without missing a beat, she reached into her pocket and pulled it out, tossing it on the floor as she kept walking. She definitely let out a smug chuckle after she heard you pick it up and keep following her; The rest of the walk was silent until the two of you arrived at your destination - the rooftop.

“Wow,” you muttered as soon as the doors opened. “This is gorgeous.”

In front of you was the most luxurious and magnificent rooftop pool to have ever blessed your eyes. The dark blue water was dimly lit from underneath. Around the pool were a number of lounge chairs, also dimly lit by lamps. The whole scene was overlooking the city below, creating the most surreal atmosphere.

“I assume you can swim?” Karina asked, looking over her shoulder as she stepped out of her pants. “Hello?”

While the rooftop and everything was beautiful, you were at an absolute loss for words as your eyes fixated on Karina. Your brain didn’t even register that she had just asked you a question, all you could do was stare at her perfectly shaped ass in the dim light. Karina giggled, shaking her head before slipping off her shirt and bra, tossing them to the side, giving you a view of her toned back. She took just two steps before jumping into the pool, disappearing under the water.

“Aren’t you worried about getting caught?” you asked as you walked up to the side of the pool. “Anyone could come up here.”

“That’s the point,” Karina replied, pushing her hair out of her face. “I woulda brought you into my room otherwise, but where’s the fun in that?”

“Oh I’m sure there would be a lot of fun in that,” you began stripping down. “Maybe when we’re done here we can confirm?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Karina scoffed. “Who says I’d want you in my room after?”

“Who says?” you repeated her words before pretending to hold up a phone. “What’s taking so long, I don’t want to be able to walk tomorrow, hurry up.”

“Oh shut up,” Karina laughed, splashing water at you before swimming to the middle of the pool. “Coming in or what?”

Of course you were, that wasn’t an offer to refuse. You quickly stripped down as well after taking a quick look around to make sure the roof was still empty before jumping into the pool - luckily it was heated, a marvelous blessing. You swam over to where Karina was playfully spinning around in the water.

“Are you always this wild?”

“That’s for you to find out,” she teased, moving her body closer to yours and turning around so that her back was facing you. “Don’t be shy now.”

Exactly the words you wanted to hear from this completely drop-dead gorgeous nude girl. You wrapped your arms around her body, under her arms, and grabbed two full handfuls of Karina’s beautiful tits. She leaned back against you, her ass pressing against your cock while you squished and squeezed her soft chest.

“You’re by far the hottest girl I’ve ever touched,” you whispered into her ear.

“Yeah? Tell me more,” she replied, pushing her ass back onto you.

“You also have the best tits I’ve ever held,” you breathed into her neck before kissing it.

“Careful,” Karina spun around so that she was facing you. “Can’t have you leaving any marks on me.”

“Like the one you gave me?”

She smirked as she placed her hands on your shoulders, gently rubbing where she bit you earlier.

“Does it hurt?” she teased, pressing down on the wound.

“Yeah it fucking hurts,” you answered while your hands grabbed her ass under the water and squeezed hard.

“I’m sure you’ll survive,” she smirked playfully. “Didn’t I make it worth it?”

“You’re still making it worth it,” you answered, giving her ass another rough squeeze.

“How about you stop treating me like a sex doll and tell me a bit about yourself,” Karina suggested, gently floating away from you.

“It’s tough when you look so much like one,” you teased back before moving your hands up from her ass, resting them on her hips instead. “Alright, what do you wanna know?”

“Anything,” she replied, her arms dangling on your shoulders now as she walked around the pool with you. “Other than your magical vocal cum, I really don’t know anything about you.”

“Well, I graduated last year, since then I’ve kinda just been trying to find a place for myself.”

“And you feel that place is working events?” Karina inquired.

“Nah, that was a part-time thing,” you replied. “Partially for the money, partially because I was bored.”

“How come you didn’t go into whatever you studied in college?” Karina continued. “Don’t tell me you have some useless arts degree or something.”

“For a singer, I figured you’d respect the arts a bit more.”

“Fair point,” Karina chuckled. “What was your major anyway?”

“Some bullshit in a field I’d never want to work in.”

Karina cocked an eyebrow at you.

“Not that I’m judging you for it, but then why…”

“Because I was lost coming out of highschool, didn’t know what I wanted to do.”

“I get that,” she said sympathetically. “It’s not an easy decision to make, especially at that age.”

“You say that, but didn’t you make your decision when you were way younger? It’s something I read when I was looking you guys up.”

“True, doesn’t mean it’s easy,” Karina continued. “Everyone goes through their own journey, I wouldn’t ever discredit that.”

“That’s quite the mature stance.”

“What, you don’t take me as mature?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it.”

“I can’t tell if it’s the fact that we’re both naked,” you paused to look at her body. “But I feel some tension.”

“We’ll relieve all of that tension soon enough,” Karina smiled. “Tell me more about yourself, first. Relationships?”

“I told you I didn’t have a girlfriend,” you rolled your eyes.

“Stop being silly,” Karina giggled, flicking a few droplets of water onto your face. “Have you had any?”

“I ended my last one after my senior year,” you answered.

“Bad terms?”

“Not necessarily,” you replied. “She moved away, I wasn’t interested in long distance.”

“You weren’t interested in long distance or long distance with her?”

“I haven’t really thought about that before,” you pondered her question, it was an interesting one now that you had it in your mind. “Honestly, I want to say in general.”

Even in the dim light you noticed Karina’s face dropped just a tiny bit at that comment.

“But I’m not sure,” you continued. “I just haven’t done it before, so maybe with the right person?”

“It’s not easy, though,” Karina commented. “It usually doesn’t work out.”

“Maybe not, but I think for the right person it wouldn’t matter how difficult it is.”

“That’s a nice way to look at it,” Karina smiled at you.

“Who would have thought I’d be having a meaningful conversation in a setting like this tonight,” you chuckled. “You’re really just full of surprises.”

“Sometimes being vulnerable leads to good conversation,” Karina giggled. “So, what’s your next adventure?”

“I wish I knew myself,” you answered honestly. “I guess I’ll just see where life takes me.”

“Regardless of where you end up, I’m glad you decided to work the event tonight,” Karina again smiled warmly at you. “Somehow some way it led to where we are now.”

“Where we are now? You mean me having a bite mark on my shoulder?”

“Poor baby,” she mocked before pushing against your chest and swimming to the edge of the pool. She began climbing out, pausing with her ass facing you to look over her shoulder. “Come on, get your revenge then, I’m waiting.”

By the time you swam over, she had climbed out of the pool, standing there watching you as the night sky illuminated her bare body, hands on her hips. You climbed out of the pool and turned her around before slapping your palm against her ass, sending droplets of water flying in every direction.

“Oh yeah,” she cooed into the night sky. “Fucking punish me.”

“You done with your interview?”

“I guess so,” she responded. “Now let’s get to why you’re really here.”

The tonal shift of the night was music to your ears. She wanted it now, and that’s exactly what she’d get. You pushed her forward until she made contact with the railing at the edge of the roof, then you pushed some more until she was completely bent over.

It was the most beautiful sight. You dropped down to your knees and spread Karina’s ass cheeks apart before shoving your face into them. Your tongue made contact with her pussy, giving it a couple of deep licks before you slapped her ass and stood back up, grabbing your cock. Eating her out from behind was so tempting, but you knew you had to get on with it already.

“Come on, hurry up,” she gasped as soon as your cock rubbed against the entrance of her pussy, confirming what you already predicted. “Don’t make me bite you again.”

“You’re insatiable,” you moaned as your cock finally invaded her pussy.

“Fuck. Me.”

There was no easing into it, no point in taking it slow. Karina wanted your dick and she wanted it now. Really, it was your responsibility to deliver. You began thrusting into her pussy, spraying more water around as your skin slapped against her skin. Under your palms, her hips began shaking with each shove of your cock.

“Oh fuck yeah there we go,” she moaned. “Fuck me like your little whore.”

No matter how hard you slammed into Karina’s cheeks, the girl wanted more. It was absolutely overwhelming, this complete fuck-doll of a girl was absolutely breathtaking the way she took your dick. This girl left you esurient over her, forcing your body to try desperately to give her what she wanted - which was also exactly what you wanted.

“Harder,” she begged in desperation. “Fuck me harder.”

In an attempt to give the wanton girl what she wanted, you placed your hands on her shoulders, giving you better leverage. You started thrusting your hips even harder into her backside, each slap of skin on skin echoing into the night. Anyone with their window open would hear the wet smacking of your thighs into Karina’s ass.

Her pussy was gripping your cock hard, nearly cutting off circulation. She was incredibly tight, yet so easily fuckable. Not only did she manage to squeeze your cock hard with her pussy, she also gave you almost no resistance. Perhaps it felt this way because you were thrusting with all your strength - it didn’t fucking matter.

What mattered was Karina’s moans, her pussy around your cock, the warmth and wetness of her body combining with yours. Her pleasure became your pleasure. All the sexual tension between the two of you led up to this moment. Fucking her hard on this roof couldn’t be compared to anything else.

This was so much better than the post-show quickie from earlier. This time you had as long as you wanted. You could probably fuck Karina all night - she’d like that. Your body was the only thing holding you back, but even as you continuously plowed Karina’s soft body, you somehow found the strength to keep going as if stamina did not exist.

Your fingers squeezed her shoulders hard in an attempt to hold her steady. You couldn’t see them clearly, but even from behind you could see her massive tits flinging back and forth with each thrust. Her body was fucking perfect. Part of you wanted to reach around her and grab them again, but you weren’t capable of changing a thing right now. All you could do was keep the rhythmic thrusting of your hips going.

“I’m going to fucking cum!” she cried out, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the railing.

She deserved no reprieve, not that she wanted any. You knew exactly what she wanted, and you were going to keep giving it to her. In and out your cock went, destroying her pussy, pushing as deep as physically possible. Her body was starting to go limp, her legs starting to bed as she began depending on the railing to keep her upright.

Just as she was about to collapse, you let go of her shoulders and wrapped your arms around her body, holding her up for the final barrage of fucking. You drove as hard and fast as you could for what felt like minutes (but was probably just a few seconds) until a slurry of cuss words spilled out of Karina’s mouth in all of its orgasmic beauty.

Karina was practically sobbing as her body convulsed into a pile on the ground in front of you. She slipped one hand between her legs and began touching herself, her legs still squirming as her back arched towards the clouds above. With her free hand, she tried reaching up for your cock, missing entirely until you grabbed her wrist and guided her to your shaft.

“Fucking cum on me,” she panted, eyes still closed as she started jerking you off. “Wherever you want.”

Your cock was already itching to explode, and her repetitive ‘cum for me’ requests as she stroked your length had brought you as close to your own climax as possible. The possibilities quickly flashed before your eyes: cover her face, down her throat, on her tits, and anywhere else on that beautiful body of hers.

Ultimately, you didn’t even bother choosing, you simply enjoyed the sensation as Karina jerked you off. She opened her mouth, her eyes still closed at this point, and tried to feebly aim your cock towards it, but it was futile. As your cock began erupting, the initial massive spurts landed directly on her chest.

With any remaining consciousness you had left, you grabbed your cock and pushed it against Karina’s mouth until it entered her lips. She started sucking at your tip, letting the rest of your seed fill her mouth. The hand she had around your cock was now rubbing your cum all over her tits, leaving a glossy shine on her beautiful breasts. Her other hand was still working between her legs.

Once your cock had finally emptied itself, Karina opened up her eyes and looked straight up at you. With your tip still in her mouth, she began licking circles around it, coaxing out every last drop of cum until she was satisfied you were empty. Before letting go of your cock, she had already swallowed.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” you moaned, sliding down against the railing to sit next to her.

“I’m also covered in your cum,” she commented nonchalantly before turning to you. “Oh sorry, I thought we were sharing obvious truths.”

Both of you started giggling.

“Where the fuck have you been all my life,” you sighed, staring up at the sky.

“What matters is that I’m here now,” Karina replied, turning her head towards you.

“You’re right, there’s no point in us wasting any time,” you responded, reaching your hand over and sliding it between her legs.

“Now who’s insatiable,” she teased, spreading her legs to give you easier access while she reached her own hand towards your lap, grabbing your semi-erect cock. “Ooh, still sensitive are we?”

“Give me a moment,” you moaned as electric shocks shot up your spine at Karina’s touch.

“No,” she giggled as she continued to stroke your cock, making you squirm in her hand.

It was too much for your body. You grabbed her wrist and forced her away, and before she could protest you had already pushed her onto her back so that she was lying beneath you. With one hand on each of her tits, you slid your face down her body until you were right in front of her pussy.

Karina placed her hands on top of yours, squeezing your hands into her tits as soon as your lips touched her pussy. Her breaths started getting heavier as your tongue probed at her clit. By the time you pressed your mouth against her pussy, she was panting. You went from licking all around her pussy to shoving your tongue inside her, tasting her from inside. She let go of your hands and grabbed your hair, pressing your face deeper into her delicious pussy.

Your own hands slowly slid down her body, smearing the cum on her tits all over her. You moved your face back and shoved two fingers into her pussy, watching her writhe in pleasure for a moment before planting your lips on her clit, stimulating as much of her body as you could.

“Oh fuck- please- fuck-” Karina gasped, incapable of forming any coherent sentences. “I’m- fuck-”

With your free hand, you grabbed your cock and gave it a couple of strokes. It was rock hard and ready to go, but you waited until Karina’s body stopped squirming so violently - depriving her of this pleasure would be an unforgivable crime.

“You’re making me fucking cum,” Karina cried out, almost pulling the hair off your scalp. “I’m…”

She calmed down suddenly, the energy draining out of her. The only movements left were the deep breaths she took and the little jolts every time your fingers moved inside her. Slowly, you withdrew both fingers and sensually ran them up her body towards her mouth. She opened her lips just wide enough for you to put your fingers into her mouth, sucking on them with any remaining energy she had left.

After giving her a few moments to compose herself, you got up onto your knees and positioned yourself between Karina’s legs. Your cock was throbbing at this point, begging you to enter her pussy again. You gripped the base and slowly rubbed it up and down Karina’s pussy until she opened her eyes and stared at you. Just as you were about to push into her, she shook her head.

“Stop,” she mumbled before sitting up in front of you.

Karina pushed you back with her hand until you were sitting with your back against the railing. The sheer sexiness she was emitting as she crawled forward towards you, her massive tits hanging down in front of her as she bent over you, had your cock ready to erupt already - and she hadn’t even touched it yet.

She held her mouth over your shaft, eyes looking down, parting her lips enough to let a glob of spit fall down onto your tip. Then, in one single motion, she brought her mouth down to your cock and slowly lowered it until she had engulfed your entire shaft, spreading her saliva evenly across your cock.

“Oh my fucking God,” you gasped as her tongue gently toyed with your tip. “Karina…”

Slowly, she brought her lips back up and sat up straight in front of you. She stared directly into your eyes with the most lascivious gaze you have ever seen in your life as her hand grabbed your cock, giving it a single stroke before she straddled your body. She already had your cock trembling and she knew it.

With one hand guiding your cock, she slowly lowered herself onto you. Your body entered her seamlessly, reuniting with that divine feeling of Karina’s pussy. She lowered herself all the way, letting go of your cock and putting both of her hands on your shoulders. She went up and down a couple more times, painfully slowly.

Each time she moved her body, you were scared she’d send you right over the edge. You didn’t want this to end - not yet. In an attempt to draw it out as long as possible, you sat still, closing your eyes tight. Steadily, she began speeding up just a bit. As you got closer and closer, she moved quicker and quicker.

“I’m really fucking close,” you moaned. “You’re going to make me cum.”

“Let it happen,” she whispered before grabbing the back of your head and pressing it into her chest. “Cum in me.”

That was too much for you. As soon as you heard her words and felt her soft tits engulf your face, you knew it was over. You were seconds away from exploding, nothing could stop you now. Knowing this, you reached your arms around her body and grabbed her ass with each hand.

With Karina’s tits still pressed against your face, you started thrusting your hips upwards. Each thrust pressed her tits harder against your skin. It only lasted probably ten seconds before you began unloading. You had no more energy to do anything but hold onto Karina’s body, you held steady as your cock launched cum deep into her pussy.

Each spurt of cum felt like a bullet with the force it launched out with. There was a lot, more than you thought possible considering all the previous events of the night; Your cock felt like it was never going to stop. Burst after burst of your seed painted Karina’s insides, overflowing as some of the warm mess slid down your shaft as well. Eventually, your cock did manage to calm down.

“Holy fucking shit,” you moaned, letting go of Karina’s body slowly.

She leaned back, smiling proudly at you before slowly lifting herself up. A gush of your cum spilled out of her pussy immediately, landing all over your crotch.

“How was that?” she slurred before bending over and licking at your tip gently.

It almost made you want to cry with how sensitive your cock was right now, but at least Karina was being gentle for once.

“Fucking perfect,” you moaned.

Karina played with the mess of cum, using her pinky finger to scoop some into her mouth before she went back to playfully licking at your tip.

“Let’s get cleaned up,” she suggested after giving you a few moments to gather your strength. She stood up and held her hands out for you.

The two of you rinsed off using the outdoor showers by the pool before grabbing towels.

“It’s getting kinda chilly up here” you said hesitantly, hoping the night would last forever.

“Down to come to the room for a bit?” Karina asked, equally hesitantly. “I know it’s late-”

“Yes absolutely.”

Her bright smile could have put the moon to shame.

—

“Winter is probably asleep by now, so just come out to the balcony,” Karina whispered as she carefully closed the door behind you.

Sure enough, Winter was asleep on the bed. The shocker, however, was the fact that half of her body wasn’t covered by the sheets. In fact, it wasn’t covered by anything, apparently Winter liked sleeping nude. The two of you carefully stepped out onto the balcony, closing the door behind you.

“What a night,” Karina sighed, leaning against the railing.

“I know right,” you agreed, taking in the beautiful view before you. “Wherever we end up now, I’ll never forget this night,” you muttered, staring into the night sky.

Karina took a step closer to you and leaned her head against your shoulder.

“I still don’t quite understand how things happened like this, but I’m glad they did,” she whispered softly.

It was oddly intimate - not something you expected from an arrangement born out of pure lust, but it felt nice. You stood there silently, simply enjoying Karina’s company, almost forgetting about the more carnal activities of the night. Seeing Karina’s sentimental side really put into perspective how unorthodox everything was.

Not that it mattered, this would probably be the last time you’d ever talk to the girl let alone see her again. To think, this girl who you didn’t know existed this morning, was now making your chest thump as if you were about to lose a significant part of your life. It was just one night, but why did it feel like so much more? It’s not like this was your first one night stand with a girl.

“This sucks,” Karina mumbled quietly.

“Well shit, my bad, I’ll leave.”

“Oh shush,” Karina lifted her head off your shoulder and turned to face you, leaning on the railing with you.

The amount of pure melancholy in her eyes was not something you were prepared to see. Carefully, you used your thumbs to wipe under her eyes before any tears fell.

“A girl my age…” Karina explained. “I just… I love sex, but it fucking sucks not being able to do this back home.”

“I hope I’m not overstepping with this, but why exactly can’t you?” you probed gently. “I only mean that a girl as beautiful as you… it shouldn’t be very difficult?”

“Ever since I became an idol, I’ve essentially been banned from anything related to guys,” she sighed, her breath filled to the brim with sorrow. “I love it of course, don’t get me wrong, I just miss this one part of my life from before.”

“Again, risk of overstepping, but why-”

“Why’d I do all this with you?” Karina finished your sentence. “I don’t know, maybe it was just seeing your cock out when I walked in the room earlier, maybe it was because Winter mentioned that you had no idea who we were, or maybe I’m tired of not getting any action.”

“I… don’t really know what to say.”

“I guess I just trust you, can’t really explain it,” she continued softly. “Probably why I took that picture on your phone.”

“Yeah I was gonna ask about that actually.”

“It doesn’t really matter,” Karina laughed. “Even if you did post it somewhere, everyone would just think it’s fake.”

“I’m not going to post it.”

There was a moment’s pause between the two of you before Karina spoke up again.

“Come back with us.”

“What?” you couldn’t believe your ears. “What do you mean?”

“Quit your job and come to Korea with us.”

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” you chuckled. “As much as I wish I could just get up and move to Korea, I don’t know if I can.”

“How about you at least stay with us for the next week while we’re in the US?” Karina pleaded. “What’ll it take to make you quit your job?”

“Holy shit you’re being serious right now,” you responded. “I mean, working the event was a part-time job, this was my last night…”

“Great, so how about for just the next week you stay, and we’ll figure the rest out later.”

“Karina-”

“We’ll cover the costs, food, transport, whatever you need,” she continued. “Please?”

Before answering, you took a second to think about what to say.

“Are you sure this is what you actually want?” you asked cautiously. “We obviously just had a lot of fun tonight, but I don’t want that to influence you into doing something you’d regret.”

“Fuck’s sake, stop overthinking it,” Karina rolled her eyes at you. “Spend the next week sleeping with me, and if I get bored I’ll just kick you out.”

“When you put it like that, what’s there really to lose?” you laughed as her aggressive nature returned. “Alright, for one week your sweet ass belongs to me.”

“Belongs to you?” Karina’s head launched back as she burst out laughing. “That’s so cute coming from a glorified dildo.”

“Glorified dildo? I’ll take it.”

The two of you laughed together, simply enjoying each other’s company. The way her eyes, lit up by the scarce moonlight, shined through her squint. Those adorable upside down crescents were making your heartbeat just a little bit quicker. As the laughs subsided, she stared at you tenderly with a smile on her lips.

“Can I kiss you?” she asked suddenly.

After everything the two of you did tonight, one would assume this was an irrelevant question, but it was potentially the most attractive thing she did all night. You didn’t even answer her with words; Without a second thought, you stepped right in front of her and grabbed her face with both hands before tilting your head sideways and pushing your lips to hers.

She kissed you back, her arms wrapping around your back, pushing you closer to her. Her lips, so plump and full, felt absolutely perfect. The kiss felt perfect. She felt perfect. The sun could have come up for all you cared, nothing would make you want to end this moment - that was until you heard the door open behind you.

“I heard laughing,” a groggy voice came through the curtains.

Karina immediately stepped back from you as both of you turned to see Winter step onto the balcony, rubbing her eyes with her hands.

“I’m sorry, we didn’t mean to wake you,” Karina pulled her into a hug, patting her back. “Let’s go inside, you’re not dressed to be on the balcony.”

It was very true, the girl who would sleep nude only bothered putting on a shirt before coming out to the balcony. You followed the two of them into the room where Winter slipped back into her bed and Karina sat next to her.

“So is someone going to explain what’s going on?” Winter asked, still in her groggy state.

“We were just chatting,” Karina started.

“About what?” Winter pressed before turning to look at you. “Oh also, hello! It’s nice to see you again.”

“Hey, likewise!” you responded warmly, waiting for Karina to take the lead.

“I was thinking,” Karina continued. “If you really felt like your arrangement with him worked, why don’t we keep him around until we have to go back home?”

“Do you really believe me now?” Winter asked Karina excitedly.

“I… do…” Karina faked a smile back.

Winter jumped up and pulled Karina into a hug, letting the bed sheets fall off her, revealing her bare ass to you.

“Thank you thank you thank you for this!” Winter cheered, any sleepiness from a moment ago completely absent. “This is an amazing idea!” Winter let go of Karina and turned around to face you, sitting on her knees on the bed. “And thank you for doing this for us!”

“Us?” Karina interjected.

“Yeah, you’re also going to keep swallowing loads, right?” Winter asked innocently.

“Of course she is,” you answered before she could say anything. “In fact, Karina was telling me something about it making your skin glow.”

“Really?” Winter gasped, covering her mouth. “I’d love to try that.”

She really made it too easy.

“How about tomorrow?” you suggested. “That way the two of you can rest up, it’s pretty late after all.”

“Great idea,” Karina replied from behind Winter’s back, shaking her head at your ridiculous plan. “I guess you might as well spend the night, like you said, it’s pretty late.”

—

Your brain turned on before your body. At this moment, nothing could get you to open your eyes and get out of bed, especially after that phenomenal dream. Maybe laying in the soft sheets would let you relive it some more, experience that vivid sensation of fucking this mystery girl named Karina. You let yourself relish in the state of bliss for just a bit longer before opening your eyes.

That’s when it hit you - it wasn’t a dream. In the next bed lay Winter, peacefully exhaling through her nose. You got out of the bed and then the next segment of reality hit you - you were incredibly sore.

“Fuck,” you whispered quietly to avoid waking Winter as you clutched your abs.

Once you stood up, you stretched as far as you could, reaching towards the roof. The curtain was left mostly open, letting in the morning sun. You walked over to close it, not wanting to disturb the peaceful girl sleeping. As you started walking towards the bathroom, curiosity got the best of you and you took a little detour to walk next to Winter’s bed.

Carefully, to make sure she didn’t wake up, you lifted the sheets and took a peek under them. Just as you thought, she was wearing nothing but a shirt. You gently put the sheets back as the reality was really starting to set in; Everything that happened last night was real.

After using the bathroom, you stood in front of the sink and splashed your face with water a couple of times to help wake you up. That’s when the next question hit you - Where was Karina? Maybe that part wasn’t real? Then you remembered something, you stretched the neck of your shirt over your shoulder and sure enough there it was, the bite mark she left. You let out a sigh of relief as you realized everything was real.

Your calmness didn’t last long as someone started slamming on the door.

“Are you almost done? I need to pee!”

“Sorry, go ahead,” you opened the door to see Winter standing there

She ran in and didn’t even bother closing the door. You quickly stepped out of the bathroom, giving her privacy. Once she was done, she came out into the room and stood in front of you.

“Can we try the skin thing now?” Winter asked innocently, not caring that she was still wearing nothing but a shirt.

“Skin… oh right, that.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Oh, um, of course we can,” you replied. “Do you know where Karina went by the way?”

Almost as if she was waiting for you to ask, there was a knock on the door.

“I got it,” you quickly stopped Winter from answering it, gesturing downwards.

“Oh, right,” Winter giggled. “Let me put on some clothes.”

“You still have my keycard,” Karina announced as soon as you let her in. “I ordered breakfast.”

“You know you could have just called them,” you said.

“I didn’t want to wake you up,” Karina replied, her cheeks tinted slightly pink.

“Oh.”

There was a moment of silence in the room before Winter broke it.

“Is there something going on here?”

“Nothing like that,” Karina answered immediately.

“Okay, good,” Winter said cheerily as she jumped onto her bed. “I, for one, am very excited for my upcoming vocal lessons.”

“And a new skincare routine,” you added.

“Skincare routine,” Karina repeated quietly so only you could hear, shaking her head. “I can’t believe my life right now.”

“Get used to it, you’ve committed to a week,” you whispered back to her.

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

---

A/N:

There we go, since the last part had such a phenomenal reaction and because I've really been wanting to write Karina, the not-very-long awaited sequel is here. As I mentioned above, this is the final part to this trilogy. HOWEVER, I'm not opposed to continuing this story in another fashion, perhaps a small time skip leading into another trilogy. I'll have to think about what exactly I want to do, but I have a strong feeling this won't be the last time I write this version of Aespa.

Hope you guys enjoyed, I wouldn't expect another update from me any time soon. I'm still working on my Dating Seraphs series, this was just a small yet fun detour, but I have no idea when the next update will be for it. Huge thanks to everyone who left a kind comment or message or simply just read and enjoyed the last part, it really helped inspire my "return" to writing!

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FOR FEELING SAFE / EXPRESSING COMFORT * assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary, send "reverse" for the reversal of action prompts. suggested by judgementdaysunshine

DIALOGUE PROMPTS

i haven't felt like this in a very long time.

i wanted to thank you for protecting me back there.

you stepped in when you didn't need to.

for once in my life, i feel safe.

this place gives me a good feeling.

i feel safe in your arms.

it's been a while since i slept through the night without any nightmares.

i could get used to this.

i won't let anything happen to you.

you make me feel safe.

you didn't have to step in and help me, but you did, and i appreciate that.

no one's ever stood up for me like that before.

my whole life has been filled with conflict and pain. not anymore.

maybe i'll finally know peace with you.

we deserve an easy life.

you're my port in the storm.

i can't tell you the last time i actually felt safe.

you know me. i don't let my guard down for just anyone.

something changed to make me feel this way.

you're safe here with me.

they won't come after you, and if they do? they'll have to go through me.

it feels nice, being here with you.

you make me feel like i can accomplish anything.

i can be myself with you.

we're looking out for you.

you won't judge me for the things i say.

just stay here a while, if you don't mind.

so this is what safety feels like.

i can finally breathe again.

nothing can touch you while i'm here.

you can go back to sleep. it's safe.

no one will hurt you anymore.

my life is in your hands.

promise me you won't abandon me?

i'll be right here when you wake up.

you taught me how to protect myself.

ACTION PROMPTS

[ lean ] sender slowly leans into receiver's shoulder and rests there for a while

[ sleep ] sender manages to fall asleep in receiver's presence

[ snuggle ] sender snuggles closer to receiver as they sleep

[ reach ] sender reaches for receiver in their sleep

[ shelter ] sender uses their body to shield receiver from danger

[ seek ] sender seeks out receiver for a protective hug

[ choose ] sender has plenty of options on where to sit in a crowded space, but chooses to sit directly beside receiver

[ reassurance ] in a tense moment, sender takes one of receiver's hands to hold

[ stay here ] sender guides receiver to a safe place and tells them to wait there while they deal with a problem

[ interrupt ] sender stops a confrontation between receiver and someone else, stepping between them and coming to receiver's defense

[ home ] sender shows receiver their new home

[ nightmare ] sender comforts receiver after they wake up from a nightmare

[sincerelybubbles]

it's a date || spencer reid x reader

part 2

warnings: cannon-typical violence/mentions of murder and kidnapping, slow burn, fluff!, early seasons spencer, not proof read

word count: 6.1k

You sigh and crack your knuckles, staring down at the pot simmering on the stove. You know that the sauce would be okay if you left it for a few minutes, did something else, but you remain standing, uselessly stirring it every few seconds. Truthfully, you’re bored. Your mind shifts from cooking to work tomorrow, itching to pull out your documents and scan through them one more time. But you know you shouldn’t, advise about work-life balance tugging at your attention. 

You’re debating if you should pick up a book and try to read, something light to take your mind off of the day, when a knock sounds from the front door. Your dog, Penny, a lovely golden retriever you rescued a few years ago, lets out a weak woof before slowly standing and trotting to the door. She’s old, more grey than golden, but she never fails to answer the door with you. 

You turn the stove off and move the pot off of the burner, wiping your hands as you walk, when another knock echoes through the hallway. It’s sharp, official, loud. The sound fills you with anxiety. You stand on your toes to look out of the peephole.

“Hello?” You ask through the door, not recognizing the men standing outside and seeing no package in sight. 

“Hello, Jason Gideon, FBI, could we have a word?” The older man says, voice stern but not unkind. 

You open the door without unlatching the chain, peering out through the crack. “FBI?”

Jason Gideon, the one who spoke, pulls out his badge first. The lankier man next to him follows in suit. Your eyes linger on him for a second longer than the other agent, taking in his toussled brown hair. You scan the badges for a second before shutting the door to undo the chain. 

“Sorry, you can’t be too careful, you know?”

“Oh, we know that all too well,” Gideon says good-naturedly, “it’s good to be cautious.”

He asks your name, you give it, and nods sharply, looking to his partner. “Well, like I said, I’m Jason Gideon with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, FBI, and this is my partner Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“Well, come on in, Agent Gideon and Dr. Reid,” you say, waving them both in and shutting the door. 

“Just Gideon is fine.”

Dr. Reid sends you a tight lipped smile as he walks in, adjusting his shirt and otherwise avoiding your gaze. He seems nervous. 

“Would you two like something to drink while you tell me why you’re here? Coffee, tea, water?” You ask, twisting the dishcloth between your hands as you lead them inside.

“I wouldn’t say no to some coffee,” Gideon says. You nod and turn to Dr. Reid, who is staring at you with his mouth slightly agape. 

“Oh, yeah, coffee for me too, please.”

“Of course, have a seat,” you say, waving them to the small table in your kitchen and moving to prepare their drinks. Neither of them sit.

“How well do you know your neighbors?” Gideon asks as you start the coffee. 

You shrug. “As well as anyone does these days, I guess. I wave when I drive past them, smile when they’re out front at the same time. Why, has something happened? I saw the police cars earlier, on my way home from work, but I haven’t heard anything else.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dr. Reid says, even though he looks your age, maybe even a few years older. “Your neighbor across the street was murdered last night, Mrs. Furgison, and her eight-year-old son is missing. Did you hear anything?”

You fall still, facing away from the two officers. Numb, you shake your head, “No, I didn’t. I wasn’t home last night. I was watching my niece for my sister.” You turn around to face them, leaning back against the counter. “But there are cameras outside, I’m assuming that’s why you’re here?” “Yes,” Gideon confirms with a nod. “Would you be okay if we took a look at the last few weeks of footage if you have it?”

“You want to see if he’s been visiting before last night,” you mumble, nodding. “Yes, of course.”

“Do you work in law enforcement?” Dr. Reid asks, the question erupting from him like he couldn’t hold it back. “You’re shockingly calm and seem to know what we’re going to ask before we get to it.”

“Oh, yeah,” you chuckle, waving a hand in the air and turning to pull the pot of coffee out. “BAU, of course, you’d see right through me. I’m a victim liaison. I read through this process hundreds of times a week. Sugar?”

“No, thanks,” Gideon answers as Dr. Reid blurts out, “Yes, please.”

You set the mugs on the kitchen counter along with a container of sugar.

“Help yourself, I’ll grab my laptop to get those files for you.”

When you come back, laptop in tow, Gideon and Dr. Reid are having a hushed conversation, both holding their mugs of coffee. You round the corner slowly but loudly, aware that sometimes agents can be jumpy. Gideon smiles at you while Dr. Reid looks over sharply. 

It fits, given their ages and presumably how long each have been in the field. You try to send him a reassuring smile. He reciprocates but still looks obviously awkward, fixing his hair and taking a sip of coffee.

“Would you like me to put the files on a USB? Email them somewhere? Or just,” you motion with the computer, offering it over. 

“I can take it,” Dr. Reid offers, “send the files to Garcia.”

You let him, passing him the computer easily. With your job, the government is already elbows deep in that laptop, anyway; you have nothing to hide. 

You watch as Dr. Reid begins typing away on your computer, leaning over the table and resting his forearms on the edge. 

Both of the agents are dressed professionally: button-down shirts, slacks, dress shoes. Guns ready at the hip.

“You like to cook?” Gideon asks, nodding toward your forgotten pasta on the stove. 

“Yes and no,” you admit, chuckling and turning your attention to him. “It always tastes better than takeout but it’s hard to get the motivation. Are you hungry? Can I offer you anything else?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, but thank you.”

“Of course. I know how overworked you lot can be.” You cross your arms and lean back against your counter. “What about you? Do you cook?”

“Not as often as I should,” he admits, smiling sadly. “Victim liaison, you said?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You seem a little young.” “Could say the same about him.” You nod at Dr. Reid who doesn’t hear you, too focused on his work. “But I guess drive and pretty much no social life can get you anywhere,” you admit with a laugh. 

“Garcia should have the files in a minute,” Dr. Reid interrupts, looking up from your laptop.

“I’ll give her a call.”

He steps out with a nod to you, walking back into the front hallway of your small home and leaving you alone with the doctor. 

He opens his mouth to say something before his eyes focus over your shoulder and his attention is stolen. “Sorry,” he says, moving past you and into your living room, toward your bookshelf. “Is that a Russian copy of Crime and Punishment?” He asks, brushing his finger over the spine of the book. 

“Oh, yeah, it is.” You follow him, staring up at your own bookshelf like you’ve never seen it before. It’s crammed full of books. There are more filling your bedroom down the hall as well. “It’s a slow read, I have to use a lexicon a lot of the time, but I sort of like the work. Translating’s a hobby of mine, I guess. When I have time. Sorry, that might be weird.”

“No, it’s not weird at all! Not to me, at least. Are you using a Dictionary-based lexicon? Can I see it? I have one that I love. I haven’t read much Russian but I have one for Greek. They’re rarely used anymore, falling out of popularity with the creation of the internet where everything is readily available to just search up, but I find them fascinating and I’ve never seen one for Russian before.”

He talks enthusiastically with his hands. His eyes shine, the interest lighting up his face. You think, before you remember the reason why he’s there, that he’s actually quite handsome. You become slightly breathless at the realization. You don’t really notice people like this often. But, towering above you, buttoned shirt pushed up to show his forearms and a self-concious smile stretching across his face, you’re a little flustered.

You take a breath, remembering that your neighbor is dead and a little boy is missing, sending Dr. Reid a small smile and motioning behind you.

“It’s in my office if you want to go look at it. I prefer it to just typing out the stuff I don’t know — mostly because I don’t have a Russian keyboard — and it’s easier to learn when you have to research it.”

“I would actually love –”

“Reid,” Gideon interrupts, ending his call, “Garcia got the files, we have to go.”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

“Thank you so much for your help,” Gideon says, walking toward you and offering his hand. “And for the coffee. So sorry to have interrupted your cooking.”

“Anytime detective,” you say, shaking his hand and smiling up at him, “always happy to help. I can give you my card if you need anything else?”

“That would be great, thank you.”

You rush to your bag to pull out one of your cards and hand it to Gideon before turning to offer Dr. Reid your hand. 

“It was nice to meet you, too, Dr. Reid.”

He takes your hand firmly. “Spencer’s fine,” he says, stumbling over his words slightly but still smiling. “Thank you for your help.”

“Anytime,” you repeat, letting them out and returning to your sad pasta. 

Your mind wonders, not to the murder or kidnapping, but to Spencer Reid. Wide brown eyes, tousled hair pushed out of his face, a sweet smile. Smart, too. Way too smart. 

You’re not exactly experienced when it comes to dating, you hadn’t lied to Gideon when you said you don’t make time for a social life, dating included, but you do know that an interest in a too-smart profiler might spell bad news. 

Still, as you portion out your meal, you can’t help but think that you’re feeling awfully motivated to return to working on Crime and Punishment. You don’t lie to yourself about the origins of this sudden spark of motivation, but you do rationalize it. What’s the harm in a fleeting crush, then? Especially if it gives you the push to finally finish one of the many projects hanging on your ever-growing list?

You suppose you might see them arround the office if they’re working in this jurisdiction, but then he’ll be gone and it’ll fade away. In the meantime, you make yourself a plate of food and settle down in your living room with the book and lexicon.

||||

“Well, that certainly poses an interesting problem,” you hear Cheif Saunders say as you walk into the police department the next morning, arms full of files ready for sorting. 

You round the corner to escape this attention but aren’t fast enough and he calls you over by name. Cringing, you turn on your heel and are faced, once again, with Gideon and Spencer. With them are two more men and two girls, all intimidating and confident. 

All FBI, if you had to wager a bet. 

“Morning,” you say, nodding to Gideon and Spencer respectively. “Nice to see you two again.”

“You’ve met?” The tall man next to Gideon asks, pointing the question to Spencer. He grins, white teeth overtaking his dark, handsome face. He reaches his hand out to shake yours, “Morgan, nice to meet you.”

You introduce yourself, explain your position, and receive introductions from JJ, Elle, and Hotchner as well. 

“Where did you meet our friends?” Chief Saunders asks, folding his hands in front of him and setting an accusatory glare on you. “Still preening for a new job?”

“No sir,” you say, uncomfortable. The chief is often cold with you, refusing to acknowledge your knowledge or work. When he found that you were looking to transfer stations to the one a district over, he’d still thrown a fit, though. You guess he can’t ignore how well your numbers reflect on him as easily as he deflects your accomplishments to your face. 

“We stopped by to get access to her cameras, she lives across the street from the Furgison’s,” Gideon explains, watchful eyes glancing between you and the chief. 

“They proved to be surprisingly useful,” Spencer interrupts. “We now know the make, model, and color of the unsubs car as well as his general height. Garcia is still trying to make out plates, but we are able to confirm at least pieces of our profile with the information.”

“You live across the street?” The chief asks, still staring at you. You shift your weight, holding the files closer to your chest. 

“Yes, sir. In a duplex.”

“Then, fellas, I’ve found the solution to our problem. You’ll set up with our little liaison, then.”

“Sorry?” You ask, startled. 

“We have reason to believe that the unsub is returning to the crime scenes after the police have left the area and allowed the family to return. But, if we know our guy, and we think we do,” Elle says, begrudingly, “he’s smart. He’s going to notice if we’re camped out in a car. And, in a residential street, it’s much harder to hide in a building.”

“So, you’ll have the opportunity to make yourself useful,” Chief Saunders chuckles, laying a heavy hand on your shoulder and shaking you.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” Gideon adds, glancing at you with a patient expression. 

“Yes, it would be a complete invasion of your privacy, agents would be there twenty-four-seven monitoring. We would only stay in the front areas of the house, of course, but you needn’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. There are always other ways.” Agent Hotchner fixes you with a level look, voice sincere. 

“Oh, she’s comfortable, aren’t ya?” The chief says, shaking you again with a wide smile. 

“Yes, of course,” you say, nodding at the others. You mean it, you’ll do whatever you can to help out, you just wish you could’ve made the choice yourself.

“This way, you don’t have to worry about confidentiality, either. Little Miss has full access to ongoing investigations, she’ll be there for all of the briefings and such.”

You nod, discretely moving a step back so his hand falls from your shoulder. 

“Yes, I’m meant to be kept up to date with all ongoing, violent investigations where and if possible to act as a bridge between law enforcement and victims and families of victims. Especially those with children involved — I should have mentioned we would cross paths again last night, I just wasn’t thinking.”

“Yes, we’ve worked with our fair share of liaisons,” Gideon chuckles, looking over his shoulder at JJ who gives him a small smile. 

“Then it’s all set. You boys let me know when you have your profile ready.” Elle watches him walk off with a hard stare, obviously just as rubbed wrong by him as you are. 

“Lovely man, isn’t he?” You joke, trying to make the situation lighthearted. 

“We’ve interacted before. Our headquarters isn’t actually far from here, just a twenty-minute drive, we’re up in Quantico. He doesn’t get any better with time, though.” Agent Hotchner shakes his head, turning to grab a file off of the desk behind him. 

“Well, he always forgets to offer his office space to visitors so I usually keep mine available. It’s quieter and there’s a whiteboard, follow me.”

||||

Since you started renting the small duplex by yourself, you’ve never felt awkward in your own home. Now, though, you feel odd taking up your own space. 

The majority of the Quantico team is set up in your front room with laptops, cameras, and microphones. 

“We don’t know exactly how long he usually takes to come back to scenes, only that it typically happens within the week,” Elle explains to you apologetically. 

“No problem — comes with the job, no?” You say, smiling and trying to brush it off. Elle laughs gently, nose wrinkling as she shakes her head. 

“No, not really. I wouldn’t be thrilled if these boys set up shop in my house, you’re taking this with much more grace than I would.”

You shrug, crossing your arms and tilting your head from side to side. “I won’t act like it’s normal, it is pretty weird having you guys here, but if it helps you catch this guy, why would I say no? Better me than some random civilian.” You hesitate, scrunching up your nose, “Better now than waiting for him to kill someone else.”

“Much more compassionate than I am,” Elle jokes, shaking her head and walking away as Gideon calls her name. 

The main problem, you think, is that the duplex isn’t very big. The part of the team that’ll be staying with you — Spencer, Gideon, Elle, and Morgan — have all settled in. They won’t come and go, their car is firmly parked in your garage, and they’ll keep a low profile to prevent the unsub from noticing their presence. You’re meant to come and go as normal to keep suspicion low in case he’s cased the entire neighborhood. But, with only two bedrooms, a baths, and a small office, you’re feeling slightly cramped. Whenever you turn, you feel like you’re coming toe-to-toe with someone. It’s awkward, considering you’re very used to living alone. 

Still, you’re determined to be a good host, so you set to preparing lunch for everyone. They’d insisted that you didn’t need to, but you really don’t know what else to do. You’d been given the day to help them all settle in and provide assistance wherever possible, but there isn’t much to do other than wait. 

You’re pulling out the things for sandwiches when Spencer walks in. 

“Hey, do you have an extra ethernet cable? Garcia thinks that a direct line would be better,” he asks. 

“Maybe, you’re free to check in the office if you want. If you need, you can always pull the one from my desktop,” you say, shutting the fridge and trying to balance everything in your arms in one trip.

“What’re you doing?” Spencer asks, reaching forward to grab the ham and mayo from the top of your stack. 

“Making sandwiches!”

“You really don’t have to. We can have food ordered, it’s okay.”

“I wanna make myself useful, I feel weird just standing around watching you guys work,” you say, dumping the materials on the counter. “I hope you guys like ham or turkey, it’s all I have.”

“You are being useful, though. You’ve let us set up in your home, how much more useful can you be?”

“I could provide food as well,” you say, sending him a smile. “Ham or turkey?”

Spencer looks exasperated, setting the ham and mayo down and shaking his head. Nervously, he uses both of his hands to push his hair back. “Either. Either is fine, thank you.”

You start to prepare the sandwiches, Spencer watching and still looking like he wants to say something. 

“Hey, Reid, I found one, we’re all set,” Morgan says, rounding the corner and waving the white chord in the air. “Oh, what’re you making?” He asks, stepping closer and leaning over your shoulder. 

“Sandwiches. I was asking Spence if you guys like ham and turkey but he wasn’t being helpful.”

“Well, Spence can be like that,” Morgan says, throwing Spencer a smirk over his shoulder. “But we’d appreciate anything.” “I was trying to tell her,” Spencer interrupts, “that it’s entirely unnecessary for her to make us lunch. She’s already done enough for us letting us set up here. The effort is appreciated, of course, obviously, you just shouldn’t have to. Because we’re already intruding.” He trails off as Morgan sends him a look, raising his eyebrow. 

“Well, I, for one, appreciate the offer,” Morgan says, leaning on the counter and smiling down at you. You laugh at him. 

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it! I do,” he says, turning to you and holding one of his hands up in a placating way, “I just don’t think, it’s very kind of course, I just –”

You cut him off, taking pity, “He’s fucking with you. Relax.”

||||

“I just can’t believe that you’re actually processing any of what you’re reading at that speed!” You say, throwing your arms up. 

“I actually am. Speed reading, when done right, doesn’t take away from comprehension at all. Plus, with my eidetic memory, I can always think back and process later if I need to,” Spencer explains. 

“Fine, you’re understanding what you’re reading in a general sense, but where’s the enjoyment in it? How can you possibly understand all the intricacies of the writing, what the author is doing, and appreciate the characters and their growth if you don’t take your time with it?” “I tend to focus my reading moreso on informational writing, so that’s not often a problem. And when I do read something fictional or with more nuance, I’m never lacking in any way when it comes to my understanding of the content, even when speed reading.”

“So you’re not actually taking the time to have fun reading is what I’m hearing.”

“Reading is inherently fun when you’re learning something, though,” he says, lips quirked in a slight smirk and a line forming between his eyebrows as he looks down at you. The look is so disarming that you find yourself deflating a little. 

You’re in your living room, a few books scattered on the coffee table between you two, debating the merits of each one. 

“I dunno,” you say, argument leaving you as you become distracted. 

“Just say I’m right! You know I am,” Spencer says with a chuckle, shaking his head and leaning toward you slightly, hands spread. 

You thought he was cute when he was shy, bumbling in your house yesterday, but after a few hours to warm up to each other, you can’t deny you really like him. 

The only thing that completely blocks the disappointment that they’ll all soon be leaving is that their UnSub will be caught when they have to leave. Your community and neighborhood will be better off for it. 

“No, I still think you’re wrong. Sure, you understand what you’re reading but I just don’t buy that you could possibly enjoy it in the same way that I am!” You’re trying your damndest to regain your confidence, shaking your head side-to-side with a wide smile to erase the vision of his own smirk, his hands, his rolled up sleeves from your mind. “I mean, nothing beats curling up with a book and taking your time with it.” “Well,” Spencer interrupts, lifting a finger, “how can you say if you’ve never tried my way?”

“Speed reading? I’ve done it, actually.” You shrug at his hesitating look, suddenly feeling vulnerable under the weight of his eyes. 

“Really? What method? What was your fastest time? What —” Morgan cuts off his questioning by walking in and calling for him. 

“Gideon wants you to take a look at something.” “Ah. Breaks over.” Spencer stands from where he was sitting on your armchair, brushing his hands off on his pants. He points at you while he walks away, “We’re not finished, though!”

“Oh?” Morgan asks when he’s gone, raising his eyebrows at you. “Unfinished business?” You scoff, moving to pick up the books you pulled out to talk to Spencer about. 

You like Morgan. He’s an easy one to like and he feels like the bigger brother you don’t have with his easy smiles. The chaos in your house hasn’t been easy, you appreciate his consistent presence to lighten the atmosphere. 

You’ve actually come to like all of them. Elle with her stories, Gideon with his dry smiles, and Spencer. Really, you just like Spencer. You’re an adult, you’re not ashamed to admit it. Just, only to yourself, lest you mess something up and make him uncomfortable. 

“You know, I can’t really say I haven’t seen him this excited before because the kid gets excited about everything but,” Morgan shrugs, pushing himself off of the wall he’s been leaning on and coming to sit next to you, “you do seem to get along well.”

“Oh, yeah, Spencer’s nice,” you say, standing to put the books away. 

“Nice,” Morgan muses, leaning back on the couch and crossing his arms. 

“He is! You all are.” You laugh when Morgan raises his eyebrows again. “I’m being serious, I would kill to work on a team like yours. You all actually work together.”

“We have to.”

“It certainly works out better when you do.”

“Yeah, your boss is a real dick. He usually walk all over you like that?” You wrinkle your nose at him as you sit down, pulling your legs under you. “More or less I guess. My personal opinion is that he’d like more men on the team and … no women,” you joke, giving him a what can you do? look, smiling sadly. 

“And you tried to transfer?”

“Stop profiling me,” you say, eyes narrowing. Morgan smiles, all teeth.

“Not profiling, just remembering him saying something like that when we talked at the station.”

“Oh,” you say, slouching back. “That’s considerably less impressive.” “Ouch.”

“Yeah, yeah, I wound you. But I did look into transferring a while back. I’ve been trying to move up for a while and keep getting blocked. But, no surprise, I got blocked again.” You raise an imaginary glass, cheers-ing with the air, “Go government!”

“That’s fucked,” Morgan says, letting out a low whistle. “So you don’t want to stay a victims liasion?”

“No, I do. But it’s not my only job right now. It’s a little complicated, but our office is too small to have a head liaison. So I really just run around filling gaps wherever I can until I’m needed to do my actual job. I’d love to do just liaison work, I really like working with the public. Feels like I’m actually helping people, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” “Hey,” you say suddenly, not wanting to keep the mood somber (or ignore the FBI agent in your house with your silly woes while a murder investigation is underway), “you want some tea? Coffee?”

“Sure doll, I’ll take some coffee,” Morgan says, a confused smile taking over his face, “if you’re offering.”

||||

“It’s actually pretty interesting,” Spencer is saying, flipping through files and leaning over to show Elle something. 

“Oh, I bet. Nothing better than vicious murder,” you say, dry, rolling a pen between your fingers. 

“I mean the process behind deciphering their reasoning,” Spencer says, shrugging. 

“I just don’t know how you look past it to see anything other than the violence,” you say, shuddering. 

He and Elle have taken the night shift and are giving you a rundown on profiling. You’ve worked with profilers before, but they’re small-town cops, more interested in closing cases than being scientific, or, at times, even correct. 

“How do you look past a crying mother after her daughter has been murdered to get the information you need?” Elle asks. “I’ve worked with hundreds of victims, I think I’m pretty good at it, but your records show that you’re one of the best.”

You heat at the praise, shrugging your shoulders. “I wouldn’t say I look past them. I actually try to get into their shoes to figure out what I can say to get through to them.”

“Often the victims families know more than they think. Every bit of information they can give us or the police about the victim only lead us closer to the unsub. We often rely on your job to get important information out of victims and families that we wouldn’t otherwise have. It requires tact, empathy, and extreme emotional control,” Spencer explains, setting the file down and brushing his hair back. 

“Well, thank you?”

“I think he’s trying to say what we do is similar,” Elle explains, “it’s just the opposite side of it.”

“I’m still not following — but I’m definitely not built to be a profiler, that’s for sure.”

“But you could be. You profile in your own way. We look at the bad guys, the killing patterns, stuff like that,” Spencer leans forward, enthusiastic. “You just profile less intense people. Gather information from them, figure out what they need. Get in their shoes, to use your words. You use their actions, small phrases, and what you can gather from their homes to approach them the best way, no?”

“Looking at their clothes and body language and stuff, sure.”

“We do exactly that with crime scenes. Recognize patterns. Just like you can’t imagine seeing past the violence, some of us can’t imaigne having to see past the emotion of someone dealing with fresh loss.” Elle smiles. “You’d probably make a really good profiler. You’re just a better victims advocate.”

You consider that, weighing their words. “Sure, maybe,” you admit. “I still think it’s kinda like magic, though. Your knowledge, your intuition, your teamwork. It’s cool.”

“Thank you,” Elle says kindly. 

Spencer jumps back into his explanation of the types of murder-kidnappers, musing with Elle again about their profile. Their ability to constantly return to the same evidence over and over without any hesitation is still amazing to you. Despite what Elle said, you’re sure you’d get bored. 

You’re even more sure that it would stick to you in a way that working with the victims never did. You visit crime scenes, sure, but you never do everything in your power to commit every bit of them to memory. 

As they talk, you move toward the window and move the curtains over slightly. It’s the middle of the night, the second the team has spent in your home, and you’re curious how much longer this unsub will take to be caught. 

You’ve done your best to keep to your usual schedule and luckily it’s not unusual for you to be up late. The movement behind the curtains won’t be suspicious, so you stand and peek out curiously at the home across the street. 

Penny sighs from her bed in the living room, snoring softly. She’s taken a liking to your guests who are always willing to give her attention and scraps of food. 

The Furgison house bigger than yours, a family home with a large backyard. It’s a faded blue, lightened by the sun, with a white door. Theres a dim porch light that’s been left on, throwing yellow shaddows across the street. 

You swear you see a curtain move in the window and your entire body freezes, breath stolen from your lungs. 

“Hey guys?” You say, dead quiet, as you see the curtains flutter again. Small, nearly inperceptable movement. Greys and blacks angainst more greys and blacks. 

“Yeah?” Elle asks, still reading over the file with Spencer. 

“You’re sure that nobodys gone in tonight?”

“Certain,” Elle says, moving quickly to stand next to you. “Why?”

“Curtains moved,” you say, nodding toward the house. 

“Maybe the AC was left on?” Elle suggests and you shake your head. 

“No, we would’ve noticed it before now. They have no animals, the house should be empty.”

Your heart is racing as Spencer joins you at the window. 

“You sure you saw it move?” He asks, moving to stand behind you, just out of sight at the window, a hand pressed to your back. Gentle pressure, just his fingertips, that makes you siffen even more. He moves his hand, whispering an apology. 

You wish he hadn’t. 

Your mind spins, distracted for a moment, shaking your head again. 

“Yes, I’m certain.”

“Go get Morgan and Gideon,” Spencer tells you, sharing a look with Elle. 

||||

You follow the team out, despite their insistence that you don’t have to, holding your own handgun out and following the light Morgan casts. 

You live in a relatively sleepy neighborhood. Shared duplexes and little houses line the streets, most with little flowerbeds out front. The Furgison house is no exception: it’s a little blue house with rose bushes out front. It backs the small patch of wood that runs along the length of the highway. 

Heart racing and head light from adrenaline, you stay out front to watch for any movement inside while Morgan and Hotch creep around one side of the house, Spencer and Elle take the other side. 

“Back here,” you faintly hear Morgan say through your earpiece. “The cellar door is open. It was deadlocked last time.”

You sitffen, readjusting your grip on your gun. 

“Wasn’t it cleared, though, when we were here last?” Elle asks. 

“Yeah, but he could’ve snuck in through the woods — there’s no telling.”

“Didn’t we position police cars on the highway?” Elle again. You can imagine them all standing behind the house, guns drawn. It’s intersting to hear them communicate so efficiently, voices low. 

“We’ll worry about it later. Morgan, you take the lead, I’ll take the rear, Elle stay out here.”

For a long few seconds, you hear Morgan, Spencer, and Hotch begin to clear the basement, until you’re jolted out of the repetitive “clear!”s by Hotch yelling, “FBI, put your hands up!”

The next few minutes turn into a whirlwind as police cars arrive and Morgan drags the UnSub out of the house by his handcuffed arms. 

The Furgison boy comes out next, disheveled and passed to the paramedics in the back of an ambulance. Once you see Hotch, Spencer, and Elle are okay as well, you jump into action, going to sit with the boy and comfort him. Morgan is there, too, crouched down to talk to the kid. 

“You’re all good now,” he’s saying, reaching forward to ruffle his hair. “And my friend here is going to make sure that you see your dad as soon as possible.” Morgan gestures to you and you nod at the little boy. 

The sight of him makes your chest ache: he’s scrawny with wide brown eyes and a mop of curls on the top of his head. 

“Agent Morgan is right, your dad is going to meet us at the hospital.”

The boy doesn’t say anything, shaking under his emergency blanket. 

“I’ll ride with you in the ambulance, too, and that’ll be fun, right?” You ask, jumping up to sit next to him. Slowly and sluggish the boy rests his head on your shoulder, still shivering. You wrap an arm around him before mouthing ‘I’ve got him’ to Morgan. He gives you a small sile, waves at the boy, and goes to join his team. 

After being checked over again by the paramedics, the boy falls asleep quickly in the hospital, holding his dads hand. You’re leaving the room, shutting the door with a soft click, when you see Spencer sitting in the hallway. 

“How is he?” Spencer asks, standing up at the sight of you. 

“He’s okay, some minor bruises and scrapes, dehydrated but on an IV. They’re just happy to be back together.”

“That’s good,” Spencer says, falling quiet and looking away. 

“And, hey, you guys caught the bad guy — now you all get to go home!”

“Yeah,” Spencer says, turning to look at you again, chuckling slightly without any heart behind it. 

“Are you not excited?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. 

“It’s always nice coming back home after a trip, even one as close to home as this one is. But it’s a little bittersweet.”

“How so?”

You practically see Spencer gathering his courage, straightening his shoulders and sending you a small but genuine smile. 

“Well, we have some unfinished business, remember? And you never showed me your lexicon.”

“Well,” you say, smiling, “you’ll just have to keep in touch, then. Maybe we can get dinner?”

“Yeah. Yes, of course. Dinner.” Spencer is fully grinning now, eyes squinting with the force of it. You can’t help but mirror him, laughing a little. “Well, I do have a car to catch. I just wanted to check on him and say goodbye.”

“Well, goodbye for now Dr. Reid.”

“Goodbye,” he says, smiling at you for a second longer before turning to walk to the exit. He makes it to the doors before he hesitates, one hand on the handle. He stands there, still, for a moment before turning around and asking, “Dinner, like a date, right?”

Giddy, your smile only widens as you nod. “I would really like that, if you’re asking, yeah.”

“I’m asking.”

“Okay, then it’s a date.”

i wanted more to happen here but then i got this far and still had so much more i could write about these two aahhh

lmk if u want a pt 2 bc i kind of have ideas :) tysm for reading!!

[dreamingonfilm]

✧˖*°࿐ Love Letters | d.m

Draco Malfoy x f!reader, fluff

Summary: In which Draco tries to find the girl who sends him love letters, unaware to the fact that it’s you.

W/C: 1.5k

Draco’s fingers traced over the writing on the pink envelope once again. His mind was not able to rest as he tried to piece together who left the note on his bedside in the middle of the night. Delicately opening it once more, he reread the words inside;

Draco, 

I hope you can learn to see yourself the way that I see you, with love and acceptance. You are what makes everyday worth it. Constellations are named after you, and each day I can’t help but to be thankful for the sun breathing on you once more. You are my light.

He carefully closed the envelope and placed it inside his bag. ‘They like me.’ the boy thought to himself, ‘someone actually likes me.’ 

It’s not that the boy was a stranger when it comes to love, but never once has he been perceived as something more than what he truly is. He’s always been Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy throne, son of Lucius, and most importantly a Slytherin. For this reason, he constantly rejected any advances that came from the female students around him. While his rejections came off as rude and cold-hearted, the other students failed to see that Draco, just like everyone else around him, was human too. He was scared of being hurt by the one feeling that he craved the most. 

The walk to class was almost unbearable, he couldn’t stop thinking about the letter. He wanted to know the poet behind those beautiful words, the ones that kept repeating over and over in his head as he tried stirring potions or taking notes. You are what makes everyday worth it. He became hyper aware of his surroundings, assuming that he would know when he sees her, but he failed to realize that she was not someone that could be so easily spotted. She came exactly when you needed her to, not by desire alone.

—-

“Draco,” his friend Blaise called to him, “focus.”

“Oh, right.” Draco replied, trying to get his thoughts together as he walked back to his seat. It was the middle of the school week and his mind was only getting more crowded with the thoughts of her. As he sat back down, his friends swarmed him with questions as to what it was that he smelled in his amortentia, assuming that this would be the first step to finding her.

“I can’t describe it.” He sighed, running a hand through his platinum hair in defeat. “She has me going crazy and I don’t even know her.” 

“Well,” Pansy spoke up, “I suggest maybe moving on? I mean, if she wants to be anonymous it may be for a reason. Plus, you have hundreds of other girls that would kill to be with you, Draco. Maybe try your luck somewhere else.” She flashed him a sincere smile before going in to hold his hand, but her efforts were cut short as the boy suddenly stood up. 

“I don’t want to be with anyone unless it’s her.” He sneered, shaking his head as he turned around and started heading straight to the door. He said a hushed goodbye to his friends before exiting into the crowded hall.

Why couldn’t his friends see that he didn’t want anyone else? He didn’t care about her wealth, status, or looks, all that he wanted was someone that could love him in full. Love him in a way that can’t be tamed, a love that lives long after they do. This was something that he knew he wasn’t going to find any time soon, for as long as he was at Hogwarts he could only be Draco Malfoy.

His hopes were on her.

He walked through the hall, pushing through students that stood in his way as he asserted dominance with a ray of confidence and high ego. Students glared at him but none had the guts to say anything, this fear that Draco instilled was not one that was going to go away any time soon. It was one that he brought upon himself and now had to live with. Somewhere in between his daydreams and the crowded corridor, he felt someone bump into him. Their shoulders collided as his books fell to the floor. The stranger mumbled a quick apology before running off.

In the midst of his anger, he froze. He smelt it. That same scent that clouded him only a few minutes before. There it was, it was her, but just as quickly as he smelled it, she was gone. Only seeing her hair as she turned at the corner of the hallway. 

He quickly got up and chased after her, pushing and shoving anyone that got in his way. This was his chance, he was finally going to meet the girl that’s been making him mad, the one that he’s been dreaming of. His heart was pounding as he ran faster and faster down the hall, students staring at him in confusion as he was passing them by, quills and journals flying out of his bag –  but he didn't care, he couldn’t let her get away.

Once he turned the corner, he couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sensation of defeat. His heart crushed as he stared into the empty hallway.

—- 

Two weeks have passed since the day that Draco and her collided. He sat in his bed, holding a brand new letter. The same shade of pink as the one before, with the handwriting that he’s fallen in love with. 

“Draco, 

I’m sorry for not writing to you. I’ve been thinking of you every day, and I just can’t bear to keep dreaming of you without letting you know that I’m sorry for bumping into you in the hallway. The truth is, I’m scared, Draco.

I’m scared you aren’t going to like me for who I am. I’m scared that writing to you was a mistake. I’m scared that the only way you will ever see me is through these letters. I see you every day, why can’t you see me? 

You’re always in my heart, shining above me every night, my constellation. If we remain strangers forever, just know that I’ve never come to love someone like how I love you.”

He was getting restless. Constant possibilities of who it could be running through him, he even considered the possibility that this could be a prank, but no amount of doubt could prevent him from finding her, his hope overpowered all the fear that he had.

Draco sat up once more and started getting ready for dinner. Brushing his hair and straightening out his tie, he needed to look presentable for the off chance that he could be meeting her today. 

He headed down into the Great Hall and that’s when he saw it. A pink envelope in the hands of a girl he’s never talked to, but not just any girl, it was you.

He shouted out into the void, but he wasn’t quick enough. “Hey wait!” he called out, as you quickly grabbed your things and ran off once more. He couldn’t see you like this, it wasn’t the right time. Your face flushed red as you ran, your breathing quickening as your legs started to grow tired, but you could not let him find you. 

Draco chased after you, he was only a few feet behind but with enough determination you knew you could lose him. As you sprinted through the maze of halls, you started to grow light headed, you knew that if you didn’t stop soon you would faint. 

But it’s not the right time 

You stopped in front of a random classroom, rushing to open the door before he could catch up to you, but it was too late. He crashed into you, both of you falling to the ground with a loud thump, his hands landing on either sides of you as you laid in between him.

He finally found you. 

“Who are you?” He asked, not wasting any more time to get to know the girl who stole his heart. You stared into his eyes, feeling a frog in your throat as you mustered up the courage to finally talk to him.

“M-my name is (Y/N).” You whispered, neither of you breaking eye contact. He smiled, grabbing hold of your hands as he went to pick you both up. You were both nervous, too scared of saying the wrong things, but wanting to say them all regardless.

“(Y/N),” he repeated, looking at you with a face full of love and adoration, “I’m Draco.” 

He brushed your hair with his fingers and went to pat the dust off your shoulders. You didn’t know what to say or do, but you didn’t have to.

This was the right time.

 “Come along then (Y/N),” Draco smiled, interlocking his hand in yours before leading you back down to the Great Hall, “we have a lot of catching up to do.”

[usurpator]

This was simultaneously one of the worst and best reading experiences of my life