#It spiraled unexpectedly from there but he started it! He always starts it!

[little-diable]

Reunited - Carlisle Cullen (smut)

What can I say, I’m a sucker for reunion fics. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: What has started out as another day of teaching for Carlisle quickly spiralled into something unexpected - all because of the woman sitting in his lecture hall, a woman he hadn’t seen for the last 301 years.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), only slight angst, mainly smut

Pairing: Carlisle Cullen x fem!reader (2k words)

He had his eyes focused on his phone, brushing past students who looked at him with wide eyes and warm cheeks. A soft smile played on his lips, excited about yet another class he got to teach, ready to start a new semester. The sound of his shoes meeting the cold floor echoed through the air, following him all towards the lecture hall he entered precisely on time.

Carlisle placed his things down before he let his gaze wander, trying to ignore the unfamiliar sensation simmering deep inside of him. A few familiar faces smiled at the professor, bright students who aspired to be like him one day - mixed with a few who simply wanted to impress the handsome man. Mostly unfamiliar big eyes stared at him, wondering if he was truly their professor this semester.

And then his eyes met a pair of golden ones, forcing him to freeze.

He was sure that if he were still a human being, he’d have choked on his breath, hand darting out to stabilise his frame before he could lose his balance. It had been too long since he had last seen her, 200, 250 years? Perhaps even 300? He couldn’t tell how long it had been while staring at the woman he had once promised to wed, a woman whose side he’d been ripped from all too unexpectedly.

Carlisle had to clear his throat, mimicking what others would do while they found themselves distracted. He turned his back towards the students, scribbling down his name on the big board before he recited his monologue, the words he always spoke whenever a new semester started, making himself familiar with those who decided to take his class.

But even as the minutes faded by, filled with questions by students who wanted to catch his attention, he couldn’t focus on anything but her. He asked himself what she was doing here; how she had found him; and why it had taken this long for their paths to cross again.

He wanted to end the class early, wanted to rush towards her to feel her frame pressed against his after all those years. But something held him back, something torn between sadness and fear. Would she still look at him with the same gaze that made him feel like a god? Would she still want to brush her lips against his like she had once done with every rising of the day and every fall of the night?

The second the bell interrupted his rambling he felt as if he could breathe again, watching the students rise to their feet while they all shot him soft smiles, already looking forward to the following week. And yet Carlisle couldn’t care about them, not when he watched her move all too slowly, set on letting the others leave the room before finally approaching him.

“I’ve always known you were good at this, it’s always been your passion.” His hands ached to reach for her, fingers balled into a fist to stop them from moving.

“What are you doing here?” The laugh he had missed ever since rumbled through her, clawing its way out of her dead fleshcage. Slowly, (y/n) took a step closer, and another, and another until she found herself pressed against his chest, arms finding their way around his neck.

“Why don’t we take this back to your office and I’ll tell you all about it?” Carlisle gently pushed her away, he reached for his things and wordlessly began to move, expecting her to follow him. He could almost feel his dead heart racing, pounding in his chest to call out to hers. Fuck, she had always been the one he ached for, high on her closeness, on her teasing character, on the lips that fit against his all too perfectly.

He unlocked the door to his office, holding it open for (y/n) before locking it again behind himself. Her eyes began to take it all in, fingers brushing along the spines of books older than he was, clearly reminding her of the house they had once shared judging from the sombre look tugging on her features.

“You’re a hard man to find, Carlisle.” (Y/n) plopped down in the leather chair, legs crossed over one another while her eyes burned into his. He mimicked her movements, finding rest in the chair closest to hers, unable to fight against the need to be close to her. “But it seems like you’ve forgotten your little promise to me, have you not?”

“What do you mean?” He stared at her with confusion laced in his gaze, something that made another almost sad laugh claw out of her. Carlisle watched her reach for her bag, pulling out an envelope that had a yellowish touch. Carefully he took it from her, staring down at the writing of her name on the paper, clearly written by him.

“It’s been 301 years, Carlisle. You promised back then you’d find me again, it was my one condition. But you didn’t, I waited for you to appear last year, so I needed to make sure you were still alive. But it seems as if you’re doing well, teaching, working as a doctor, you even have your own family now.” Her smile turned bitter, no longer filled with the warmth he had felt flushing through his veins moments ago.

No word rolled off his tongue as he pulled out the crumbled paper, barely able to read what he had once scribbled down due to the fading ink. But the parts he could still read were all too clear to him now, forcing guilt to settle in his stomach. He had forgotten, had forgotten about the one promise he had sworn to live and perhaps even die by.

“I,” he placed the letter down before reaching for her cold hand. “There are no excuses I can speak, nothing to make up for breaking this promise. I am sorry, so sorry, my love. Time has slipped through my fingers, with my family and all those things that have happened, I must have lost my focus. But I’ve always carried you with me in my thoughts.“

She squeezed his hand before letting go, eyes flickering back to her other hand. Carlisle followed her gaze, looking at the silvery ring he instantly recognised, reminding him of the day he had brought it home to her.

“Did you get married?“ Her voice was small, barely carrying enough strength. Carlisle's hand shot forward, reaching for her face to force (y/n) to look at him. He shook his head, while being certain that he would have broken out in tears had he still been human.

“My love, my pretty girl,” he shook his head while tightening his grip on her chin. “As if I could ever love another, my soul is bound to yours, and it will always be. My love for you knows no time limit, it’s eternal just like the future laying ahead of us. I am surrounded by those others call my children, but my heart has never been opened to house another love but yours.”

It took her a second to move, but the moment she found her strength, (y/n) leaned over the arms of their chairs to press her lips against his cold ones. Carlisle instantly replied to the kiss, shifting them around to pull her into his lap. The kiss was fuelled by their longings, urged on by the missed out centuries as they deepened it.

“You still taste the same, like home.” Her mumbled words made him chuckle, allowing Carlisle to tighten his hold on her before kissing her again for a short minute.

“Let me take you to my place, love, I want to do this properly when we make up for our lost time.”

…

“Carlisle,” she panted his name, back arched off the mattress while staring at him. He had his hands placed on both her thighs, keeping her held in place to properly brush his tongue through her slit. The second they had entered his empty place their bodies had found back together, set on finding out if they still harmonised as well as they had all those years ago.

“Shh, my love, let me search for forgiveness the proper way.” His words drew a soft chuckle from her, eyes fluttering close again. For the past 300 years (y/n) had imagined this happening over and over again, wondering if he’d still touch her the same, if he’d still find comfort between her legs, if he’d still fuck her with the same love connecting their bodies.

Moans clawed through her, sounds that left Carlisle grinning in success. He held onto her as if he was scared that she’d disappear before he could properly apologise, set on gaining her forgiveness. He stared at her with darkening eyes, high on her taste, on the sweetest sensation he had always been aching for ever since crossing paths with her. She choked on his name, calling it out over and over again like a prayer both had last spoken 301 years ago.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this, missed being touched by you.” Her softly spoken words made him chuckle, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh before sucking on her pulsing bundle again and again. (Y/n)’s impatient fingers tugged on his golden hairs, keeping him close while he pushed her towards her orgasm, set on watching her come undone before fucking her.

He teased her entrance with two of his cold fingers before pushing them into her tightness, watching another pleasure filled expression tug on her features. She clung to him, let him curl his fingers against her swollen spot just like she needed him to. And with another call of his name (y/n) came, letting her orgasm flush through her as Carlisle kept sucking on her pulsing bundle.

With a whine leaving her, (y/n) watched Carlisle pull away to undress, exposing the body she had only seen in her dreams for the past centuries. It didn’t take him long to find his way back to her, lingering between her thighs to align himself with her heat, grinning down at (y/n) as he pushed into her.

Both moaned in unison, relishing in the feeling of their bodies being connected once again. For a few seconds, neither of them moved, foreheads pressed together, she had her legs wrapped around his waist, he had his hands placed on both sides of her head. Only as Carlisle felt her walls flutter around him did he dare move, building a ferocious rhythm that was spurred on by their longings.

“You feel devine, love. I don’t know how I’ve survived this long without you.” (Y/n) could only reply with a moan, searching his lips to press a teeth-clashing kiss against his. Their tongues fought for victory as Carlisle fucked her harder, reminding her of a time where she had still been human, finding her body littered in marks after every night spent with him.

“Carlisle,” his name rolled off her tongue again and again, eyes wide as she searched for the strength to switch positions. Carlisle allowed her to move, to flip them around for (y/n) to straddle him, hands placed on his cold chest. He marvelled at her, watched her take what she was desperate for while he found himself falling in love with her all over again.

“What a sight you are, my pretty girl.” With her head thrown back, she found herself tumbling closer towards her second orgasm of the night, all too aware of the fact that he wouldn’t be done with her for a long time. His hips met hers, burying himself deeper with every thrust all while his fingers found her pulsing bundle, circling it with enough pressure.

She came first, losing her strength while he flipped her around again, searching what he was desperate for. It didn’t take Carlisle long to let go, to follow her down the edge with a groan of her name. His forehead fell against hers, clinging to his lover while both allowed their highs to pass.

“Will you find it in yourself to forgive me?” His whispers made her smile, allowing her to pull him down for another kiss.

“You still have some making up to do, but I think we both know how you’ll achieve that.”

[sysig]

Read an interesting new fic, but really it was the spider that sold me (Patreon)

[incognit0slut]

Crawling back to you

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Simmons!Reader Summary: You never planned on having a casual fling with your brother's friend five years ago, nor did you expect him to fall in love with you, which forced you to end things abruptly. But now he's unexpectedly back in your life—older, wiser, and fully intent on winning your heart. Content: (18+) >12k words, reader has commitment issues, he’s the softest softdom i’ve ever written, female oral, fingering, unprotected p in v, a little squirting? teeth rotting fluff and a chaotic ending because who am i without my crack humor A/n: This is for @imagining-in-the-margins FWB writing challenge and somewhat a celebration post for 7k milestone. Idk how that happened but tysm :( I hope you like this as much as I did writing it because matt simmons is so underrated??? I’m also freaking nervous with this i haven’t posted a new fic in a while so please please please be nice i feel like throwing up

Surprise has a way of stopping time. Although you're not sure you can call it that. What you’re experiencing is more than just surprise, it’s the kind of feeling that makes you freeze in place. It’s not just a jolt to the system—it’s a full-body takeover. Your breath catches, your heart skips, and your thoughts scatter like leaves caught in the wind. How could they not, when the last person you expected to see is standing right in front of you, clad in the most questionable clothes?

You almost laugh at how absurd he looks. He’s wearing an oversized hoodie with a tacky “Washington D.C.” print sprawled across the front. It’s baffling why he’s draped in that shapeless thing over his freakishly tall frame, but it’s too hard to focus on something so trivial when you’re still grasping with the reality of seeing him again. You really can’t believe it. Spencer Reid is here. The Spencer Reid.

The guy whose heart you broke five years ago.

You should have seen this coming. In fact, you kind of did, when your brother’s friends came rushing into the hospital room, their voices a chorus of “oohs” and “aahs” as they crowded around the newborn cradled in Kristy’s arms. You exchanged polite greetings when they noticed you—Penelope even pulled you into a tight hug, gushing about how amazing you looked—and thankfully, there was no sign of him.

But you’d almost allowed yourself to believe he wouldn’t show up. When the small space became overly crowded, you stepped out into the waiting room to catch your breath… only to find him standing a few feet away with JJ.

And just like that, all the air seems to vanish from your lungs.

You had a plan, of course. In the back of your mind, you always knew a chance meeting was inevitable, whether you liked it or not. And that plan was simple. You’d offer him a polite smile. Exchange a few words, nothing too personal. You’d be friendly but distant, always make sure to keep the kind of composure that says you’ve moved on, and that the past is just that: the past.

But those well-laid plans seem fragile now, almost naive as you suddenly caught his smile. Now how do you stick to a script when your heart is starting to rewrite all the lines? Or blur the lines specifically, when the past and present merge so seamlessly that you’re reminded of the first time that same smile had charmed you.

You’re suddenly thrown back to that day five years ago, when your brother had thrown a barbecue cookout to celebrate some joint investigation his team had wrapped up. You didn’t know the details—didn’t really care to, if you were honest—but Matt had called you and insisted that you join him.

You hadn't thought much of it at the time. It sounded like another family gathering with a few new faces. But that was the day you met Spencer, and what began as a simple introduction quickly spiraled into something much more complicated. Really complicated. Because as charmed as you were by his smile, he had wanted something more from you when all you could offer him was your body.

So you ran away.

Although not very far, because apparently, he’s standing a few steps away from you, five years later. And the worst part? He’s now very much aware that you’re here. You watch as his jaw slacks open as he takes a double-take. You’re rooted in place. JJ, on the other hand, tugs his sleeve as she notices his demeanor slowly shutting down. She turns around to see what’s caught his attention, and when she spots you, a huge smile spreads across her face.

"Hey! You're here!” You force yourself to look away from him as she moves forward. You reciprocate the hug she throws at you. "How are you?”

You’re not entirely sure how to answer. How do you even explain that your heart just did a triple backflip and landed somewhere near your stomach? Or that you’re seconds away from having an internal existential crisis because, of course, the universe would choose this moment to throw Spencer Reid back into your life?

There's really no good way to sum that up. So instead, you plaster on a smile that probably looks more like a grimace and reply, "Good. I’m good.”

JJ doesn’t seem to notice the strained edges in your voice. “It’s so nice to see you again! How long has it been?”

There’s a moment of silence as you try to gather your thoughts. But before you can respond, Spencer’s voice suddenly cuts through the quiet. It’s soft, almost hesitant, as if he’s been holding onto this detail for far too long, but every syllable rings in your ears.

"Five years," he says. "Five years, three months, and seventeen days."

Your stomach does another flip. JJ raises her brows, her eyes darting between you and him. You carefully meet her gaze. "Actually, you and I met up last year.”

“Oh, right!” She exclaims, her face lighting up as the memory clicks into place. “You were in town for a conference, right? I totally forgot about that.”

“You were in town last year and you didn’t tell me?”

God, he’s making it terribly hard for you to keep your composure. You throw him a sidelong glance. “I didn’t know you wanted to see me.”

His expression shifts slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. He looks at you as if your words sounds ludicrous to him.

“I always want to see you.”

You can't decide what surprises you more, the fact that he still wants to see you after all these years, or how easily he says it. The words roll off his tongue so casually, so effortlessly, as if the weight of your shared past doesn’t cling to them. And to make matters worse, he's saying this right in front of JJ, who is now staring at him, clearly scrutinizing the significance behind his words.

You quickly shift your attention to her, forcing another smile. "So, are you going to head inside?"

JJ blinks at you. “Oh, yeah, I probably should.” She turns to Spencer and gives him a quick but knowing glance. "See you on Monday, Spence."

You glance at him. “You're not going to see the baby?"

"Spencer’s got something he needs to take care of,” JJ chimes in. There’s a slight edge to her voice, like she knows exactly what that ‘something’ is, but she doesn’t elaborate. She gives him one last look before heading inside.

You catch yourself looking up at him again. “You’re leaving?”

Spencer pauses, studying you carefully, his brow furrowing just slightly like he’s trying to read between the lines of your question.

“I was,” he says softly.

There’s a sudden tightness in your chest. “Right.”

“But now I don’t want to.”

There it goes again, the butterflies in your stomach. This is exactly why you didn’t want to see him. You knew that once you looked into his eyes, heard his voice, it would stir up everything you’ve spent five years trying to bury. You’d told yourself it was better to pretend that whatever happened between you was nothing more than a stupid choice. But now, standing here with him so close, you can feel all those walls you built crumbling down with just a few words.

You finally look at him, like really look at him. It’s impossible not to notice how he’s changed over the past five years. There are faint lines around his eyes now, signs of age that wasn't there before. His hair is longer, a little messier. It curls around his ears in a way that makes him look almost boyish, yet undeniably charming which suits him more than you'd like to admit.

But even with all the changes, his smile—gentle and just a little shy—remains the same. That smile reminds you of a time when things were simpler, where it was enough to convince you that you didn't have to keep your guard up all the time. But then you remember the reason you walked away, and his smile becomes a little harder to look at.

Because while he's changed, grown, matured, so have you, and you're not sure if there's room for the person you are now in the space that once belonged to both of you.

His eyes scan you in the same way you’re assessing him. “You look good.”

Your mouth twitches at his words. You didn’t expect him to be so straightforward. “Thank you.”

“You’re even prettier than I remember.”

The sigh you let out is long and weary. He really knows how to push your buttons.

“Spencer. Don’t.”

“What?”

“You can’t just say things like that after—” You hesitate, crossing your arms. "After everything. What happened to 'Hi, how are you?’. Or maybe something simple like ‘What have you been up to? Anything new?’”

He blinks, clearly taken aback by your abruptness. “Okay. Hi, how are you?”

You cast him a wary glance. “Good.”

"What have you been up to?"

"Work."

"Anything new?"

"No."

He pauses again, his eyes searching yours before he asks, "No new boyfriend?"

You frown. “Huh?”

“Girlfriend?”

"Spencer."

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"Spencer."

He smiles sheepishly, his shoulders sagging slightly. "You're right, that was inappropriate. I didn't think I would see you again, it’s throwing me off a bit."

“You didn’t think I would be here for my newborn niece?”

His smile turns into a grimace. "I guess I wasn't thinking clearly." He shifts on his feet, fidgeting with his fingers—a small, familiar tic that you hadn’t seen in years. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird.”

“It’s fine,” you reply, though there’s no real bite to your words. His nervous energy is making it hard to stay annoyed. Your eyes narrow on his oversized hoodie again, the casual, almost careless choice that seems slightly out of character for the Spencer you remember.

He seems to notice you staring so blatantly. “What?”

“You look funny.”

A hint of surprise flashes across his face. “You think I’m funny?”

“Different,” you correct. “Did you raid someone’s closet on your way here or something?”

"Oh… I had to change my clothes. I got wet at the park earlier.”

You glance towards the window with a frown. "It's not even raining."

"I ran through the sprinklers."

The cease on your forehead deepens. Even that sounds so unlike him. Spencer Reid doing something that carefree in public?

“You ran through the sprinklers? Alone?"

You notice his expression shift as the question leaves your lips, something very subtle, but you’ve known him long enough to catch it. The way his eyes flicker, the slight hesitation before he answers, makes it obvious. There’s a hint of something unspoken in the way he looks at you, and suddenly, it all clicks into place.

He wasn’t alone.

You look away. It's ridiculous, you think. To feel this somewhat… jealous when it should be the last thing on your mind because, really, what right do you have? What you had with him wasn’t even a relationship to begin with. But despite all the logic in the world, you can’t help the pang in your chest, the twist of something bitter and familiar curling in your gut.

"It's not what you think," he slowly says.

You force a small, awkward laugh, trying to brush it off. "I wasn’t assuming anything. It’s none of my business, anyway."

"No, really, it's nothing like that." he insists, scrunching his nose in the way he does when he's trying to think. "I mean, I did meet someone at the park, but it’s not like… what you might be thinking. We were just talking, and… and then there were these sprinklers and it wasn’t really planned or anything, then she—well, technically, we weren’t even alone the whole time because there were other people around, and it’s not like we—”

“Spencer, you don’t have to explain—” you begin, but then something dawns on you. “Wait, is this what JJ was referring to? Did you… Did you have plans?”

You notice his Adam’s apple dip as he swallows. "Kind of," he admits. “But it wasn't anything serious. It was just, you know, a casual thing.”

You can't help the way your stomach knots. Casual could mean anything. Maybe a simple coffee between two friends, or even a lighthearted conversation over lunch. But in your experience, at least in the book you and Spencer had written together in the past, casual had always meant sex. And now, hearing him say it about someone else feels like a punch to the gut you hadn't expected.

You suddenly feel foolish for letting your mind go there, for assuming that whatever he meant by casual was the same thing it had meant for the two of you back then. It's been five years, and so much has changed. Maybe casual means something entirely different for him now, and you're the one stuck in the past, reading into things that no longer hold the same weight.

He must have noticed the slight falter in your expression, the way your eyes momentarily cloud over with something you can’t quite hide. He takes a step forward. "It’s really nothing.”

You take a step back. “Even if it is, it’s really not my business.”

“But it’s not,” he urges. He’s suddenly so persistent, and you can’t help but feel the embarrassment gnawing you at how easily he can read your mind. It's one thing to wrestle with these feelings privately, but having them so clearly acknowledged makes it all the more humiliating. You can’t believe you let yourself get so worked up over something that shouldn’t matter this much.

You eye the exit door. “I need to go.”

"Right now?” His brows knit together in confusion. “But your family’s here."

You’ve only spent a few minutes with him and you’re already running away.

"I just remembered I have to take care of… something."

The excuse sounds weak even to your own ears, but you don’t wait for his response. You quickly turn on your heel, and when he calls out your name with concern, you force yourself to keep moving, scurrying off down the hallway.

Me: I'm heading back first Big bro: You okay? Me: Bad headache Big Bro: You didn't eat anything, did you?

You scoff. What is it about your brother always zeroing in on eating whenever you complain about feeling off?

Me: You know I did. Just not much Big Bro: That’s what I thought. There’s some leftover dinner in the fridge. And check the second drawer in the kitchen, there should be some ibuprofen Me: Yes, Dad Big Bro: Don’t get smart with me Me: 🫡 Big Bro: Drink lots of water Me: Yes, sir. Anything else on your mind while you’re giving out parental advice? Big Bro: I’m just trying to keep myself from dragging you out of my house if you collapse Me: 🙄 Big Bro: The kids are staying with Kristy’s parents, I’ll drop by tomorrow morning Me: Okay Big Bro: Call me if you need anything

You toss your phone down on the bed, then let out the most exasperated sigh. Spending your Saturday night in your brother’s guest room is the last thing you expect to be doing, let alone faking a headache just to avoid confronting a situationship from the past. You honestly thought you’d outgrown this kind of avoidance, but here you are, slipping back into old habits as if no time has passed at all.

Ironically, your mind stumbles into the past, and you remember a conversation you once had with Spencer. It was during one of those nights when you both were tangled in each other’s arms. You could faintly remember the conversation started with him talking about his work.

He never actually told you the details of his cases, but he liked to share his thoughts on the different complexities of the human mind. And on that particular night, he was rambling about the psychological concept of avoidance, which he claimed to have detected the first time he spotted the bad guy. He went on at how people often retreat into familiar behaviors to protect themselves from discomfort.

At the time, you had brushed it off with a joke, teasing him about overanalyzing everything when the situation had already played out. But now the irony isn’t lost on you. You’re doing exactly what he once explained. It’s almost laughable if it didn’t sting so much to realize how right he was.

A sharp ding from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts, and one glance at it tells you exactly who’s messaging. The name on the screen makes your chest tighten, but you don’t even give yourself a moment to consider responding. You quickly turn the phone to silent, push yourself off the bed, and head straight for the kitchen. True to your brother’s words, there’s leftover pizza in the fridge, but the idea of reheating it doesn’t seem appealing to you.

You reach for the bottle of wine instead.

The red liquor tastes like butter, or something close to it. It’s similar in the way the liquid melts over your tongue, spreading warmth through your chest and settling comfortably in your belly. By the time you're sipping the second glass, you feel more relaxed, but then the sharp sound of the doorbell ringing cuts through the calm.

You glance at the door from the position of the couch. You have a strong feeling about who it is. But as much as you're sure of the who, what really gnaws at you is the why.

You hesitantly make your way toward the door, and sure enough, when you pull it open, Spencer is standing at your brother’s doorstep. The corner of his lips turns upward in an awkward, almost apologetic half-smile as if he’s unsure of how to begin or whether he should even be there in the first place.

You lean against the doorframe. “Did Matt tell you I was here?”

He gives you a pointed look, his eyebrows raising slightly. “No, but it wasn’t hard to figure out.” You throw him the same questioning look, and he explains, “This is the only place you’d stay in town because not only do you hate staying alone at a hotel, but Matt wouldn’t let you even if you tried.”

You can’t believe he still remembers your offhand comment about sterile hotel rooms. It’s one of the reasons you used to prefer staying at his apartment whenever you were in town.

“Why are you here anyway?” You ask. “I thought you had plans.”

He pauses for moment as if deciding how much to say. Finally, he clears his throat. “Can I come in? I’d rather explain it inside.”

"I don't think you owe me any explanations about what you do with your time," you reply, crossing your arms.

"Maybe I don't owe it, but I want to give it.”

“Which isn’t necessary.”

“But appreciated, I hope.”

You find yourself caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. You tell yourself not to read too much into it, but there's a part of you that can't help but soften at his words. Maybe it's the way his eyes reminds you of melted chocolate as he stares at you that makes you want to let him in, despite your better judgment.

You pull the door open. “Fine, but take your shoes off. Kristy’s very serious about hygiene.”

He does as he’s told and tucks away his shoes on the rack by the door.

“Do you want anything to drink?”

He shakes his head slightly, offering a small smile. "I'm good, thanks."

You nod and gesture toward the living room. He follows you, and as you both approach the couch, he instinctively moves to the far end, settling down cautiously as if not wanting to invade your space. You take a seat on the opposite end.

“So, what do you want to talk about?”

He leans back slightly, resting his hands on his knees. You can tell he's trying to gauge your mood, figure out how much to push and when to hold back. "Do you remember when we went on that date at the street fair?"

You frown, remembering how you had missed your bus home in one of your trips here and ended up wandering at the fair with him. “That wasn’t a date.”

"Fine. Do you remember when we went to the street fair together not on a date?"

“I remember."

His shoulders relax a bit at your response. “You spent ages deciding what to eat and you ended up choosing that little Korean stall in the corner. We had to walk a bit further to get there even when your shoes were hurting you.”

You think back, internally scolding yourself for wearing those damn boots that day. “You thought I was being ridiculous.”

"I didn't think it was ridiculous. I just didn't get it at first. Your feet were practically covered in blisters."

"I really wanted kimchi."

"I could tell, and it took me a while to understand why you went through all that trouble. Now I do.”

You glance at him, sensing there's more behind his words. “Why are you bringing this up?"

He meets your gaze. His brown eyes looking a little more golden underneath the dim light. "I guess this is me choosing.”

“That you’re craving for Korean?”

He gives a soft, genuine laugh, the kind that starts in his chest and reaches his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. “Not exactly,” he says and leans a little closer. “What I’m trying to say is, that’s how I feel right now. I'm here because I want to be, not because it's convenient, but because it’s you.”

There’s a subtle flutter in your chest, and your skin prickles with a familiar warmth as he speaks. Your heart beats a little faster, not enough to be alarming, but just enough to remind you that you’re not as unaffected as you pretend to be. You can feel your palms start to sweat, and there’s that almost imperceptible hitch in your breathing that you hope he doesn’t notice.

“Spencer…” You don’t even know how to start. “It’s been five years."

He nods slowly. “I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do. A lot of has changed since the last time we saw each another, and you’re here acting like we both separated on good terms? Don't you hate me?”

His brow furrows slightly. “Why would I hate you?”

“Because I broke your heart. I—" Your voice falters as you struggle to find the right words. "The moment you told me you were falling in love with me, I... I ran. I couldn’t handle it. I pushed you away like a coward.”

“You weren't a coward, you were scared. And maybe I didn’t understand that back then, but I do now.”

You shake your head. “But I hurt you.”

The sigh he lets out is heavy, yet there's something deceptively calm about it, almost as if he’s already made peace with the past. “You did what you thought you had to do, and sure, it hurt. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I realized that I don’t blame you for needing space. It wasn’t about me not being enough, it was about you needing to protect yourself.”

His words start to chip away at the wall you’ve built around your heart. “I thought you’d hate me,” you admit quietly.

“I could never hate you."

You lower your gaze, your fingers fiddling nervously with the edge of the cushion. “Alright, let’s say you choose me. Now what? What is it that you want?”

He pauses for a moment, his fingers curled into his palms. He looks away briefly, taking a deep breath as if gathering his thoughts, then returns his gaze to you. “I want another chance.”

If you were surprised to see him at the hospital earlier, this is something entirely different. There’s something akin to panic fluttering in your chest. It’s amusing, really, how the human body reacts before the mind fully comprehends as if your heart knows what’s coming before you do. You can feel it in the way your breath catches, in the way your stomach knots with a nervous energy you can’t quite shake. Because how do you even react to that?

You finally turn to face him, leaning your head against the back of the couch. This moment feels like some sort of déjà vu, and just like the last time, your mind is already bracing itself, preparing to give him the same answer you did back then.

“You know it’s never going to work.”

He mirrors you, but instead of the frustration or sadness you half-expected, there’s a gentle smile on his lips. “You sound so sure.”

“That’s because I am,” you reply. “I know what you’re asking for right now, and we don’t function like that. Not in the past, at least.”

“How did we function?”

“Based on sex.”

“And what do you think I’m asking for now?”

“More than sex, which isn’t going to work."

“Why not?”

“Because—” you start, but the words catch in your throat. You’re not even sure how to explain. The fears, the doubts, the past... all of it feels too big, too overwhelming to articulate in a way that makes sense.

“Because the idea still terrifies you?”

You frown, caught off guard by the directness of his question. “No.”

The smile stretches even more across his face. “Then give me one good reason why you think so.”

"Oh I can name a few."

He studies you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he’s trying to read every thought racing through your mind. “Let’s make a deal then. You give me those reasons why we can’t work, and I’ll give you reasons why we can.”

You’re quiet for a moment, considering his offer. It’s bold, almost reckless, and yet... there’s something in his eyes that makes you want to accept the challenge.

"And if your reasons aren’t good enough?"

“Then we’ll deal with that when we come to it,” he replies softly. “But I’m willing to bet we won’t have to.”

"You really think you can convince me?"

"I can try." He leans a little closer, just enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from his body. "So, what’s your first reason?"

That’s too easy, too obvious. “You’re one of my brother’s closest friends,” you point out. “What happens if this doesn’t work out? I don’t want to put him, or us, in that position.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “That didn’t stop us in the past.”

You scoff. “Spencer, we were sneaking around behind his back. It’s not exactly the same thing. This… whatever this is, it would be out in the open, and that’s a whole different level of complicated.”

“It would be different, yes. But that doesn’t mean it has to be a problem. If anything, it shows how serious we were then, and how serious we could be now.” You scrunch your nose at his response. “Now what’s next on your list?”

"Uhh.. the distance! You’re in D.C., and I’m not. It’s not like I can just drop everything and move closer.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re a three-hour drive away, maybe two if I take the expressway. And honestly, with how much we both travel for work, I don’t see how that’s an issue.”

His reasoning is so undeniably logical you feel a flicker of annoyance, not at him, but at how easily he’s dismantling your arguments.

“You didn’t even want to visit me back then.”

"You were the one who didn't want me to. You kept saying it was easier for you to come here.”

His words hit harder than you expect. You remember all the times you insisted on making the trips yourself. You'd convinced yourself it was about convenience, but with him calling you out on it, you realize it wasn't about convenience at all. It was about keeping things on your terms, maintaining a safe distance even when that distance wasn't physical.

"Well, I had more flexible hours," you claim. The excuse is flimsy, and the way Spencer looks at you—patient, but not fooled—makes it clear that he sees right through it.

You try to think of your next reason, although the words seem to get stuck before they even form. You know you can easily rattle off more excuses, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes it harder than it should be.

“That’s it? You’ve only thought of two? I was expecting a bit more of a challenge.”

You scowl at him. "I didn’t say I was done."

"Take your time," he comments, leaning back slightly, still wearing that infuriatingly patient smile.

You huff softly, trying to regain your footing. "Okay, how about this? Sex."

There's a beat of silence. "What about sex?"

You feel the words forming, but they sound ridiculous even in your own mind. Still, you force them out of your mouth. Your subconscious is urging you to come up with more excuses to keep him at arm’s length. "That was all that we had. What if… what if we just fall back into the same patterns?"

“Don't you think that's a reason why we can work? If we were only ever about sex and we're still here, doesn't that show there's something more between us?"

“Or it just means we had a strong physical connection. That doesn’t necessarily mean there’s something more.”

“You really believe that? That all we had was just physical?”

“Yes,” you retort, though the confidence in your voice wavers slightly. Your eyes flicker away for a split second before you meet his gaze again. “That’s all it ever was and I don’t know if it can turn into something you’re trying to imply.”

He lets out a low, amused sound, as the corners of his mouth twitches upward. “You’re deflecting.”

“I’m being realistic,” you shoot back. “What if we try, and it doesn’t work? What if everything falls apart because we weren’t good at anything but the sex?”

His eyes light up, and suddenly he’s wearing the most boyish grin you’ve ever seen on him. “So you're admitting the sex was good?"

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“You know what I mean. What we had was...” Wild? Passionate? Crazy-hot-mind-blowing sex? “…intense. But intensity isn't enough for a relationship. What if the rest of it doesn't hold up?"

He leans in closer, his hand hovering near yours on the couch.

“But what if it does?”

All you can do is stare at him.

“You’re giving me all these reasons to push me away again,” he continues. “But I’m here because I’m not afraid of those doubts. I’ve always wanted to give you more than what we had because you deserve something real. I want us to be real this time, and I think you do too, even if you’re scared to admit it.”

His words are affecting you more than you like to admit. You can slowly feel it in the tension building between you, it’s surprisingly not the uncomfortable kind, but the sort that pulls you in, that makes you want to move closer even though every instinct tells you to stay put.

And then it happens. You feel a slight tremor in your leg, an involuntary movement that causes it to brush against his. The contact is so light it's almost like it didn't happen at all, but it did. He notices—Of course he does—and now there’s a certain gentleness in his gaze like he knows exactly what's going on inside your head. He doesn't push, doesn't rush, just watches you with those impossibly kind eyes.

And in the softest, most careful voice, he asks, “Can I move closer?"

Your heart is pounding now, the rhythm echoing in your ears, in your chest, in the pulse at your throat. The sensation travels downward, a slow, steady beat that moves through your body, inching its way down your spine, tightening in your stomach before it settles low in your abdomen. It’s a heat that spreads outward until it reaches your core, leaving you acutely aware of every inch of space between you and him—and how much you want to close that distance.

You find yourself nodding. He shifts closer. “Can I touch you?”

You really want to say something witty, something that might deflect from the weight of the situation, but the words won’t come out. You can only manage another nod. He moves slowly, carefully, giving you every opportunity to pull back. But you don’t. You can’t. You’re rooted in place as his hand reaches for you.

His palm gently rests on your jaw. Your eyes flutter closed against your consciousness, and the tension that’s been coiling in your chest slowly unwinds, replaced by a sense of calm. When his thumb slides across your cheek, he speaks again. His voice is so close it's as if the words themselves are brushing over your lips.

"Can I kiss you?"

You inhale sharply. The word "Yes" hovers on the tip of your tongue, but you don't need to say it out loud. He can already see the answer in the way you’re leaning into him, and his mouth is on yours in an instant.

The reality is, you’ve kissed Spencer before. Plenty of times, actually. You know the feel of his lips, the way they can be both gentle and demanding, the way he tastes faintly of coffee or something sweet when he’s had a treat. You also think back to those hurried kisses in the past when time was short and the world was pressing down on you. Or the playful pecks that came with laughter. Even the desperate, heated moments when the need to feel something, anything, was too overwhelming to resist.

This kiss, however, isn’t like any of those. This one is slow, and achingly tender. His movements are unhurried. The way his lips glide over yours carries a deep sense of care, like he’s trying to memorize every soft curve. Just as you begin to melt in his arms, he pulls away slightly, not very far, but enough to hover close that you can still feel the heat of his breath on your lips.

There’s a tense silence as the tip of his nose brushes gently against your cheek. You can tell he’s giving you the space to decide what happens next, and there are a lot of scenarios running in your head. You could push him away, repeating history all over again. You could be in denial and pretend all of this never even happened. But something inside you snaps.

Maybe it’s the way he’s holding back, so gentle, so careful, too afraid of pushing too far. Or maybe it’s the realization that you don’t want him to hold back, that you need more, that you’re tired of resisting what you’ve both been dancing around for so long. Before you can second guess yourself, you’re clutching onto the fabric of his hoodie, tugging him closer.

He tenses for a moment, but the hesitation is gone almost as soon as it appears. His mouth finds yours again, and he lets out a deep, relieved sigh. You feel the soft, insistent push of his tongue against the seam of your lips. You hold onto him, parting your mouth eagerly before he slips his tongue with a desperation that catches you off guard.

Then his hands seem to be everywhere all at once, tracing the curve of your spine, sliding down to the small of your back, and brushing along the edge of your jaw. His fingers then tangle in your hair, tugging gently while his other hand skims over your waist. But when his hand slips inside your shirt, calloused fingers brushing your soft skin, you slowly pull away. “W-Wait.”

His eyes widen slightly, and you can feel the shift in his body. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no,” you say quickly, tugging him closer again. “I just… I think we should continue this conversation somewhere more… private?”

He pauses for a moment. “Really?”

“If you want to.”

A subtle smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Are you trying to seduce me for sex?”

You’re oscillating between being incredibly turned on and equally mortified. In a sense, yes, that’s what you’re asking. But you didn’t expect him to be so blunt about it. You don’t think he’s ever been this direct in the past, and now you’re wondering if you missed something before, or if he’s just tapped into a level of confidence you’re struggling to keep up with.

“Would it be inappropriate if I said that I am?” you ask hesitantly, and you can’t help but wince a little as the words leave your mouth.

“Since when have you been worried about being inappropriate with me?”

“Well, Spencer, if you haven’t noticed, there’s a five-year gap since the last time we slept together.”

His hand on your waist tightens slightly. “Five years too long, if you ask me.” Then he pulls you closer until there’s barely any space left between you. “You do realize this is you giving me a second chance, right?"

In a way, you do. You've spent so much time convincing yourself that you were better off keeping your distance. Walking away in the past was easy, but now… now it feels different. The years have stretched on, and the excuses you’ve made have started to wear thin. Especially when just being near him is starting to stir memories you thought you’d buried—some good, some less so—but all intense, all Spencer.

Maybe he's right. Maybe five years is too long to pretend that whatever was between you didn't matter.

You slowly meet his gaze. “I realize.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

You hesitate, not out of doubt, but because of the sheer gravity of what you're about to say.

"Maybe."

His sigh is audible when he hears your answer, and without missing a beat, he brushes the barest, lightest, most gentle of kisses on your lips. “Maybe is good.” Kiss. “I can take—” Kiss. Kiss. “—maybe.”

You think you should say something more, but all coherent thoughts scatter the instant his lips meet yours again. You return his kisses, hesitant at first, but quickly falling into a rhythm that feels achingly familiar. It doesn’t take long until his lips move into something more urgent. There’s a hunger there, a pent-up longing that he can no longer hold back. His tongue flicks against yours, teasing, coaxing, and you know you need to stop him before he starts to undress you right there on the couch.

You reluctantly pull back. “Bedroom. Now.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls you to your feet, and you’re practically dragging him to the guest bedroom. When the door closes behind you, he’s quick to guide you toward the bed, his hands firm on your hips as he steers you backward. The moment your legs hit the edge of the bed, he pauses, his hands lingering on your waist, and for a moment, he just looks at you.

“Having second thoughts?” You tease. The sarcasm drips sweetly in your voice, knowing full well he’s been trying to win your heart the entire evening.

“No,” he mutters. “I’m trying to see if you are.”

You draw back from his arms just enough to climb onto the bed and lay down in the middle. “Does it look like I am?”

He shakes his head with that cute, bashful smile. Although there’s nothing bashful about the way he pulls off his hoodie and tosses it carelessly onto the floor. The shirt underneath is crumpled, and his hair is even messier, sticking up in ways that make you want to run your hands through it.

“Come here,” you motion for him. Without hesitation, he crawls between your legs and leans in for another kiss. His hair feels like the smoothest silk when you finally reach for it. There’s a slight dampness from the faint sheen of sweat on his skin, the way it curls just slightly at the ends, brushing against your forehead as he dips his head to capture your mouth.

You don’t think you can ever get tired of kissing him. There’s a familiarity in the way he moves. His lips mold perfectly to yours, soft yet demanding, as if he knows exactly how to draw out the deepest parts of your desire. And you feel it everywhere. In your pulse, in your veins, all the way down to the spot between your legs.

It intensifies even more when his lips begin to trail down your neck. You feel the first warm rush of arousal pooling in your panties when he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your throat, the fluttering veins below your jaw with so much intensity as if he's taking every one of your heartbeats for himself. Your grip tightens in his hair as he marks another spot near your collarbone.

“I’ve missed this so much,” he murmurs as he slowly nips down your neck. “I’ve missed you.”

You can only hum a reply, your voice catching in your throat as your head starts to spin from the way his hands are now trailing down your side. He reaches the hem of your shirt and pauses, fingers lightly tugging at the fabric.

“Can I take this off?” He asks, pulling back slightly just enough to look down at you. With his messy hair falling into his glossy brown eyes and swollen wet lips, how can you possibly say no to him?

Without a second thought, you nod, your fingers already moving to help him with the fabric. His eyes never leave yours as he slowly lifts your shirt. It slides up over your skin, and you raise your arms to let him pull it off completely, tossing it aside without a care. Your bra comes off next, and when that follows to the floor, his eyes sweep over your body.

There’s a certain look in his gaze. Devotion would be too strong of a word, but it’s something close—something softer, yet just as intense. You’ve seen desire before, felt it in fleeting touches and heated glances, but this is different. This feels different. It’s as if his gaze is reaching into the spaces between your thoughts, gently pulling at the threads that hold you together to unravel you in the most tender of ways.

He kisses the spot between your breasts.

“You’re always so pretty.”

He gives a soft peck just above your heart.

“So incredibly beautiful.”

Then his tongue flicks along the delicate curve of your chest, making a slow, teasing trail upward until he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucks gently, rolling it around with his tongue, and you’re mesmerized by the lewd scene of him drawing your flesh between his lips. Your fingers instinctively find their way back into his hair, tugging on the soft strands as he continues to lap at your sensitive skin.

He then shifts slightly, his mouth releasing your nipple with a soft, wet sound before moving to give the same attention to the other. While he suckles and nibbles on one hardened peak, he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger, sending a rush of pleasure straight to your core. If you thought you were wet before, you’re certain you’re drenched by now. Your panties cling uncomfortably and the growing desire makes you ache to peel them off.

He must sense your growing need because his kisses trail lower, down to your stomach, while his fingers toy with the waistband of your leggings. His touch is teasing, slipping just under the elastic, and you instinctively lift your hips, silently begging for more. He takes his time as he slides the fabric down your legs, his knuckles brushing against your skin before discarding them somewhere in the room.

Your attention is on him as his palm dances along your inner thigh, and the closer he gets to where you ache him the most, the more your breath hitches in your throat. When his thumb brushes over the wet patch on your panties, your hips buck against him. “Spencer…”

He glances over at you and lets out the most appreciative sigh. You really are beautiful. Eyes full of lust, skin flushed with his marks. You’re a vision of longing, and every part of him is consumed by the sight of you. “Yes?”

You squirm under his gaze. “Aren’t you… going to take them off?”

A slow, teasing smile spreads across his face. “What, these?” He gives a playful tug at the edge of your panties, his fingers just barely slipping beneath the fabric before pulling away. “Are you sure you want them off?”

You try to hold back your groan when his thumb finds your clit. “Yes. I-I’m sure.”

He grins, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you, but instead of giving in immediately, he begins to circle your clit slowly with his thumb, watching your reaction closely. “On a scale from one to ten, how sure are you?”

Now he’s starting to get on your nerves. You can’t hold back the small huff falling from your lips. He simply laughs then slowly takes off the last piece of your clothing. The cool air instantly hits your skin as he grabs your knees, spreading your legs apart. He skims along your naked body and when you notice where his gaze settles, you swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy.

It's kind of ironic, you think, how you've gotten this far, and now, of all times, you're suddenly blushing like a damn teenager. It's as if your brain is catching up to everything your body already knows—that this is real, and it's happening. You can't help but laugh at yourself a little. Here you are, all tangled up in each other, practically begging him to get you naked and yet you're acting shy now?

He seems to notice the shift in your mood, his hands pausing on your thighs as he looks up at you with concern. He tilts his head slightly, his brow furrowing. “Did I do something wrong?”

You quickly shake your head. “I’m suddenly feeling very self-conscious.”

He studies your face for a moment. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” you blurt out, more forcefully than you intended, your hand instinctively reaching out to grab his wrist. “I… I guess I’m not used to feeling this exposed in front of you.”

He shifts slightly, moving closer so he’s eye-level with you, his hands still resting gently on your thighs. “We’ve done this countless times before.”

“I know, but that was years ago. Things feel different now… like there’s more at stake, maybe?” You let out a sigh. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not silly,” he reassures you. He soothes the skin behind your thighs. “But you don’t need to feel self-conscious with me. You’re beautiful, and I just want you to feel as good as you make me feel.”

If he keeps talking to you like that, there’s no doubt you’ll end up giving him your heart on a silver platter by the end of this. He shifts lower down your body. “We can go as slow as you want,” he continues, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another. “Just tell me what you need.”

You take a deep breath as his soft stubble grazes your skin. “I need you.”

“Then you’ll have me.”

You watch with heavy lids as he drags his lips along your skin until he presses the most tender kiss on your cunt. He really wasn’t lying when he said he could go as slow as you want because every kiss is achingly gentle, barely more than a feather-light touch. It’s the kind of softness that makes you writhe beneath him, and before you know it, your fingers are tangling in his curls while your hips buck against his face.

There’s a slight vibration on your skin—it could be his laughter, or maybe just a hum of contentment—but you don’t bother deciphering it. You’re too lost in the sensation as his tongue breaches your folds. You peer down and watch as he trails the tip of his tongue through your wetness, slowly tracing up and down your slit until he flicks it against your clit.

You’re honestly gone after that. You’re not surprised, though. If there’s one thing Spencer Reid is good at, it’s knowing exactly how to use his mouth. Sure, he’s a bona fide genius who spouts off random facts and quotes obscure literature, but his mouth? His mouth is a whole different level of expertise. It’s almost unfair how good he is. It’s like he’s studied you, memorized every little thing that makes you go crazy, and now he’s putting all that knowledge to devastatingly good use.

And it’s not like he’s doing it just for your pleasure. It brings him the same deep satisfaction. His eyes are closed, and he seems to lose himself in the act, savoring every taste, every reaction, every subtle shift of your body beneath him. It’s as though he’s completely immersed in finding an almost insatiable need to drink in everything about you. His tongue delves deeper, swirling around your entrance before sucking gently on your folds, pulling the soft skin into his mouth.

You find yourself pressing his head closer to your heat. His eyes flickers up to you. “You’re back.” Your response is simply another push of his head. “Oh. Needy, are we now?”

"Mhm," you manage to squeak out, feeling a rush of wetness seeping out of you. He leans in, his tongue catching a bead of moisture before it drips further, dragging it between your slick folds.

Your grip in his hair tightens.

“Spencer…”

“I know, I know,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a smile before his mouth descends again, this time focusing on your clit. His tongue flicks over the sensitive nub before he gently sucks, pulling it into his mouth with a slow rhythm that has you gasping. Each motion is perfectly timed and you feel yourself growing even wetter under his attention. His tongue swirls, then flattens before he sucks a little harder.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel that familiar coil in your stomach. The pleasure builds steadily, the tension winding tighter and tighter until it slowly overwhelms you. Spencer seems to sense it too, his hands gripping the back of your thighs a little tighter, pushing them further apart as he continues with unwavering focus. He’s not rushing, though, he’s savoring it, but his slow motion is enough to make you snap.

Your hips jerk against his mouth, and he doesn’t miss a beat, holding you steady as he continues his ministrations. He’s relentless in his gentleness, coaxing every ounce of pleasure from you, even as you’re left gasping for air. When you finally come down from the high, Spencer finally lifts his head and places a final, soft kiss on your inner thigh.

“Do you still feel self-conscious now?”

It takes you a moment before you can answer. You smile lazily at him. “Not after that.”

He grins and pulls you up into a sitting position. “Do you think you can give me another one?”

“Spencer,” you breathe out. “Even if you gave me thousands of orgasms, I’d probably ask for more.”

The laugh he lets out is warm and infectious, the sound vibrating through you in a way that makes you smile even wider. “Well,” he starts, slipping his hand down your thigh. “The human body is capable of experiencing multiple orgasms in a relatively short period of time, especially for women. So technically, you could keep asking for more, and I could keep giving them.”

“Even up to a thousand?”

“Maybe not to that extent.” He pulls you close, and you lean your weight against him. “Hold on to me.”

You do as you’re told and somehow you find yourself in a new position. When he spreads your legs apart, your senses go on high alert again. “Spence?”

He kisses your cheek, your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. “Try to relax.”

A gasp escapes your lips as his fingers dive between your thighs. Try to relax? Try to relax? Men and their audacity to tell you what to do, especially when they're the reason you're so wound up in the first place. Because how are you supposed to relax when his fingertips are brushing ever so gently over your clit? How are you supposed to calm your breathing when he’s spreading your arousal up and down your folds?

And how are you supposed to keep your composure when he suddenly fills you with, not one, but two of his fingers?

You feel yourself slipping and he tightens his other arm around your waist. “Told you to hold on.”

He’s starting to annoy you, but you listen to him and bury your face in the crook of his neck. You take a deep breath as he starts to move his fingers. Soap, you decide. It must be his soap, because he smells clean and crisp, almost like fresh linen and a hint of something peppery. It’s almost distracting if it weren’t for the way his fingers are curling inside of you.

Then you feel that sensation again, the kind that ripples through every nerve of your body. At first, it’s manageable, an intensity you think you can handle. But when he suddenly changes his technique, everything shifts. His entire hand moves in a fast, up-and-down motion that catches you completely off guard, and before you know it, you’re whining, your grip tightening on him as your head falls on his shoulder.

The rapid pace makes your head spin. It feels like he’s pulling the control right out of your hands, leaving you questioning your own limits. You’ve seen yourself getting wet, you’ve felt yourself become drenched before, but you’ve never experienced anything like this. You never realized your body could produce this much liquid. It’s not an overwhelming amount, but more than you’ve ever seen from yourself, and it splatters against his hand, dripping down your thighs.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even flinch when your nails claw into his shirt. He keeps going, and going, and going, until the only thing you hear is your rapid breathing against his neck and the slick, wet sounds he’s coaxing out of you. You’re overwhelmed (in the best way, of course) but you can’t stop yourself from cursing as the sensation intensifies, multiplies even.

It's not until your body starts to go limp that he finally takes pity on you. He slows down, his fingers pumping lazily inside you. “Good?”

“How did you—when did you—” you exhale a long breath. “I can’t feel my legs.”

He slowly withdraws his fingers out, only to rub your essence over your puffy clit, and your hips jerk once more before he finally stops. You're a trembling mess once you sink into the mattress.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you do that before.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever done that in my life.” Your eyes suddenly feel incredibly heavy that you can't resist letting them flutter close.

He kisses the tip of your nose. “Still up for another one?”

You peer through one eye, and when you catch him starting to undress himself, your other eye shoots open. The nod you give him is eager. His smile widens as he shrugs off his shirt, and you can’t help but let your gaze drop to the line of hair trailing down his stomach. You wonder what it would feel like under your tongue.

"Wait."

Your eyes snap back up to meet his. "What?"

His face twists into a grimace. “I don’t have a condom.”

Shit. Neither did you.

You roll onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow and resting your head in your hand. “And you’re realizing this just now?”

“I was too focused with you."

And by that, he means giving you the most intense orgasm of your life. You watch as his fingers hover over his belt. “You really didn’t think of bringing one when you decided to come over?”

“My intention coming here wasn’t exactly for this.”

“Well, it would be great if you at least considered the possibility." You study his face and blurt out the first thing on your mind, “I don’t want to stop.”

He shifts his weight on the bed. “Me neither.”

“I mean… we could have sex without using one. We’ve done it before. Once.”

He recalls what you're referring to and lets out an amused laugh. “Are you sure? Didn’t you freak out when you realized your period was late?”

“That was a coincidence! I was stressed out at that time, but I’m safe now—I think.” You pause, brows furrowing as you start calculating your cycle in your head. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m not ovulating.”

“Pretty sure?”

You give him a look. “No, I’m actually sure. I know my body, and I’ve done the math. See?” You gesture vaguely, as if the numbers and facts are floating in front of you. “No ovulation in sight.”

The corners of his mouth twitches into a smile. “Alright then,” he murmurs, and leans down to plant a soft kiss on your lips. “No ovulation in sight.”

“None,” you confirm before tugging his belt. “Can you please take off your pants now?”

He complies—with incredible speed—and when he’s finally as naked as you, your mouth waters at the sight of him. His cock is painfully hard, thick, with a bead of arousal glistening at the tip. You try to reach for him, but he has other plans. He crawls over your body and slips between your legs. He then grips the back of your thigh with one hand, pulling it up slightly to open you to him, while the other holds himself from the base.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The moan you let out is lewd. “Fuck, Spencer.”

An airy laugh slips out from him as he rubs the head of his cock around your clit. “So needy.”

You wiggle your hips. “Hurry up.”

He only hums in response, before easing his hips back just enough to drag his swollen tip through your slick outer lips. The underside of his cock splits your folds open with each stroke, and your head is spinning. It’s almost sweet how he’s taking this slow, but at this point, you’re so close to just shoving him inside you. You let out a frustrated whine when he pulls back, only to thrust forward just enough for the head of his cock to nudge at your entrance.

Your walls squeeze around him.

“O-Oh…” His mouth falls open slightly as he stares down at where your bodies meet. “I… I don’t remember you being this tight.”

You follow his gaze, watching the way your outer lips swallow him inch by inch. “I-It’s been a while.”

He pushes further, and your nails dig into his shoulders as he stretches you in a way that feels almost too much, and you can't help but tense when he thrusts further. He wraps your leg around his waist before leaning down, propping his weight on his elbows.

“Need you to relax,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over the pulse fluttering wildly in your neck. You do as he says. Breathe in, breathe out. Clench, unclench. And then you feel him easing inside you, oh-so-deliciously slow, until you squeak out a gasp when he finally fills you completely.

Because fuck, he stretches you—wrenches you open, and you’re consumed by his heat, the pressure, the sheer size of him. It overwhelms your senses, and all you can do is sing out a filthy moan. He follows your tune with a melody of his own, though his voice trembles, sounding more like he’s in pain as if he’s trying to hold himself back.

“You’re so warm,” he groans, his breath hot against your skin. “You okay?”

You nod and wrap an arm around his shoulders. “More than okay.”

“Do you think I can move?”

“Please.”

There’s no hesitation in the way he pulls back, only to sink into you again. His hips roll against yours in a way that feels both achingly slow and unhurried, like he’s savoring every second to memorize the way you feel around him. It’s like he can’t quite believe this is happening, that you’re giving him the chance to be tangled up with you in this position again.

And truthfully, neither can you.

But here you are, two bodies moving in perfect harmony, intertwined in the most primal, human way. Flesh against flesh, breath against breath. Even your heartbeats sync in the same rhythm. The world beyond seems to dissolve, leaving nothing but the pull of desire that draws you deeper into the moment, into him, until the boundaries of where you end and he begins blur into something undefinable.

It’s nonexistent. You’re glued to him, fused in a way that feels as if this is exactly where you belong.

No more running away, you decide.

“Kiss me.”

He’s in no position to decline, and within a heartbeat, he captures your lips in the sweetest kiss—well, as sweet as it can go. Because even though he tastes like honeyed warmth, his hips continue to pound into you, hitting that deep, tender spot inside. You whine against his lips. A needy, breathless sound that has him faltering for just a second, his hips stuttering against yours.

“You feel so—” he chokes on his words. “God, you’re so perfect.”

You’re perfect, you want to say, but you stop yourself, biting down on the words before they escape. It’s not that you don’t believe it. You just can’t bring yourself to admit it out loud. Not yet. Instead, your need wins out, pushing past everything else.

“More,” you gasp between shallow breaths.

He rests his forehead against yours. “Yeah? You want me to go faster?”

You whine in approval.

The instant he pulls back, his tip barely teasing your entrance before slamming into you again, a sharp gasp escapes your lips. He repeats the motion. Once. Twice. By the third time, he doesn’t hold back, driving his hips hard and fast, the wet sound of your bodies slapping together echoing off the walls.

You turn into a putty mess. You can barely think, let alone form words, your mind clouded with nothing but the feeling of him—inside you, around you. Your whole world narrows down to this moment, to the way he fills you so perfectly. His forehead stays pressed against yours the whole time, his lips hovering above yours he murmurs, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

But it’s not. It’s everything. Maybe even not enough. “I…” you gasp when a certain angle from him hits a deep spot inside you. “Oh, Spencer… harder, p-please.”

He’s more than happy to oblige.

He shifts slightly, then snaps his hips forward with a sudden, forceful thrust. He repeats the motion. Over and over again. His pace is relentless now, and he starts to pant, his breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts, every exhale brushing against your lips. There’s a tension in his body, a taut strain in muscles, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. And you can’t help but moan softly into his mouth, swallowing each of his gasps as his control starts to slip away.

“Where do you want—” His voice falters. “Can I—inside—”

You nod frantically. “Yes. Yes.”

It’s enough to push you both over the edge.

The sensation starts as a gentle warmth in your fingertips, slowly winding its way through your body. It weaves through your limbs, spirals up your spine, before gathering intensely at your core. You’re shaking, trembling, and you instinctively reach out for something to ground yourself. One hand threads into his curls, the other clutches his jaw.

Then it happens. His cock moves in a frantic rhythm, sending you spiraling deeper into intense pleasure for the third time tonight. Your inner walls tighten around him as your orgasm crashes through you, gripping him so tightly that it pulls a raw, breathless groan from his lips. He slams into you with uneven thrusts as he presses your body flat onto the bed, until he stops and shudders, spilling hot, white liquid deep inside you.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt something this intense before—not even with him in the past. Every inch of your body is buzzing as his warmth spreads through you, reaching places you didn’t even know existed. You cling to him, your nails softly grazing his back as he finally lets out a satisfied hum, his lips moving to pepper kisses along your face.

He starts with your left cheek. Two gentle kisses. He moves to your right, giving a light peck that lingers just a moment longer, almost as if he’s blowing a warm breath against your skin. You giggle as the air tickles you. Then finally, he settles on your lips with a sigh that merges into a kiss. It’s soft, sweet, and tenderly slow.

You let out another laugh when he finally pulls away.

“What?”

His curls fall messily on his forehead and you reach up, brushing it back. “You’re starting to grow on me.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “I grow on you?” You simply nod. “Like fungus?”

Your fingers pause in his hair. “Like what?”

"You know, fungus. It grows on things. Like mold or mushrooms,” he explains and gives you a smile. "Am I growing on you like that?"

You’ve been apart for so long that you almost forgot how his brain works. His unexpected comparison sparks your amusement, so you decide to humor him. “Depends on what kind of mushroom you are.”

He looks thoughtful for a while. “There's this mushroom called mycorrhiza. It forms a symbiotic relationship with trees and helps them grow by improving water and nutrient absorption."

“And that makes you what, exactly?”

“Essentially indispensable.”

“So you’re claiming you’re good for me?”

A slow, confident grin spreads across his lips. “I’m saying I’m exactly what you need.”

You burst out laughing. Your cheeks might actually ache from smiling this much. “That was pretty smooth.”

He looks incredibly pleased with himself. Then after a quiet moment, he buries his face in the curve of your neck. You close your eyes, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against yours, and a sigh escapes your lips. It’s like all the time you spent apart melts away in that single breath, and something inside you relaxes, as if he’s managed to sneak back into the parts of you you’d forgotten existed.

Maybe he is right. Maybe, after all this time, he’s exactly what you need.

You wake up to the sound of clatter. It’s loud, jarring, and it echoes around the house. You stir in bed, stretching your limbs before tensing when you feel something poking your back. Your hazy mind immediately snaps into alert, and you open your eyes fully, glancing toward the window. Sunlight is already pouring into the room, far too bright for how early you thought it was.

You quickly turn over to the other side.

“Spencer. Spencer!” you hiss, shaking his shoulders urgently. “Wake up! We overslept!”

He groans softly but doesn’t move. Another loud clatter bounces off the walls, and your heart pounds wildly in your chest.

“Spencer,” you whisper sharply, eyes widening. “I think Matt is home.”

That finally gets his attention. He blinks his eyes open. “Wha—?”

You’re already halfway out of bed, rushing to the window to peek through the curtains. Sure enough, you spot your brother’s car parked in the driveway. “Yep, he’s here,” you mutter under your breath, the panic rising as you turn back to Spencer. “And now he’s going to kill us.”

“He’s not going to kill us,” he mumbles, but even by his voice, you can tell he’s not entirely convinced. You watch as he finally slips out of bed, scrambling to pick up his clothes scattered across the floor. “We talked about this last night. It’s not going to be as bad as you think.”

You shoot him a look before quickly pulling on your own clothes.

“There’s a big difference between telling him, and him finding out that his sister is sleeping with his friend while he was away taking care of his wife and baby.” You yank your shirt over your head. “In his freaking house.”

When you put it that way, Spencer’s heart sinks a little. Although Matt isn’t a violent person, he has twice the muscle he does, and it’s not hard to imagine him being a lot less forgiving in a situation like this. He can’t help but picture the worst-case scenario even though Matt’s always been the reasonable type.

Until now, maybe.

“Do you think I should climb out the window?”

You stare at him in disbelief. "Spencer, you’re not sixteen.”

“Actually, I’ve never been in a situation like this,” he admits, pulling up his pants. “My biggest concern when I was sixteen was getting my first PhD.”

You forgot how ridiculously smart he is. Smarter than most people, definitely smarter than you. “Well now you’re getting firsthand experience.” You start pacing around the room. “Let’s just try to stay calm.”

“That’s kind of hard to do when your brother could walk in while I’m half-naked.”

You look at him in horror. “Then put your damn shirt on!"

Before he can reply, there's a noise from outside the room—a quick shuffle of steps, light and rapid, as if someone’s rushing down the hall. You barely have time to react before the door is wrenched open.

But it's not your brother.

It's far worse.

You feel your stomach drop when your eyes lands on the small figure of your nephew, standing there with wide eyes. His gaze shifts back and forth—from you, disheveled and clearly flustered, to Spencer, whose bare back is facing the door, still fumbling with his pants. From little Jake's point of view, it must look like the most confusing sight, because he quickly retreats, bolting down the hallway.

“Dad! Help! There’s a strange man in Auntie’s room!”

You don’t know whether to laugh or panic. The fact that Jake didn’t recognize Spencer without his usual suit is almost comical. You glance at him, noticing how his body has tensed, his back straightening in alarm.

“Who was that?” he whispers, turning to you with wide eyes.

"Jake.” You blow a strand of hair that falls across your face. “Who apparently thinks you're an intruder."

The blood seems to drain from his face. “He didn’t recognize me?”

Your eyes flick over his appearance—his wild, tangled hair sticking out in all directions, bare chest still slightly flushed from sleep, and pants barely zipped. “Not when you look like this, no.”

But before he can respond, you hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway, heavier this time.

Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Shit.”

“I should have climbed out the window.”

The idea of him dangling from the window is even more absurd. You glance toward the door. "Okay, wait here. Let me talk to Matt first." Your eyes flicker to his bare chest again, and you let out the most exasperated sigh. "And please, for the love of God, put on your shirt."

You don’t have time to wait for his response as you rush out of the room, quickly closing the door behind you. You take a second to catch your breath, trying to compose yourself, when a noise down the hallway draws your attention. Only then do you notice Matt cautiously advancing towards your way, his back against the wall.

That’s when you spot the gun in his hand.

“Seriously?” you hiss, staring at him in disbelief. “What the hell, Matthew!”

He looks at you, equally surprised. “Jake said there was a strange man in your room!” he replies defensively, tightening his grip on the weapon. “What was I supposed to think?“​

Your eyes shift toward your nephew, who’s peeking around the corner, his little head barely visible as he watches the scene unfold. This is definitely not how you expected your morning to go. A simple, awkward conversation was one thing, but having to disarm your brother while explaining this mess was an entirely different level.

“There’s no intruder, Matt. Put the gun down.”

He looks past you, his eyes zeroing in on the closed bedroom door. “Then who’s in there?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. There’s no easy way to explain this. How do you even start? That Spencer is standing half-naked in the guest room, trying to gather his dignity after being mistaken for an intruder by a six-year-old? You never thought you'd have to introduce Spencer to your brother this way, in his own house, under these chaotic circumstances.

You can feel Matt's eyes boring into you, waiting for an answer. All you can think is how ridiculous this all must look, and how there's no good way to smooth over the fact that, yes, Spencer Reid, his friend slash teammate, is behind the door. And the most absurd part? A part of you is more worried about the look on Matt's face than the fact that he's holding a gun.

“Please don’t be mad.”

You hold your breath as you slowly reach for the doorknob. You push the door open and let out a small, relieved sound when you see Spencer fully dressed, looking almost presentable, except for the wild hair that refuses to settle. He gives you a small nod before stepping out of the room.

“Uncle Spencer?” Jake’s small voice cuts through the tension. Matt’s gaze darts between you two, his jaw tightening as he puts the pieces together. You can see the moment realization hits him full force.

“Reid?” Matt’s voice is incredulous, bordering on betrayed. “What the hell is going on?”

“I can explain,” you say cautiously. “It’s not exactly how it looks.”

“Not exactly how it looks?” Matt echoes, his eyes narrowing at you, then shifting back to Spencer. “You’re in my guest room looking like you just rolled out of bed—”

“Fully clothed now,” Spencer cuts in quickly, which only earns him a frown from Matt.

“Not helping,” you mutter under your breath, shooting Spencer a look before turning back to your brother. “Fine, it’s exactly how it looks like. So… uh, surprise?”

You watch so many emotions flashing in his eyes. Matt’s always been a good brother. Sometimes annoying, but always reliable. He doesn’t usually get angry at you—quite the opposite, actually. He’s calm, level-headed, and more prone to offering advice than raising his voice. But now? The frustration is clear in his eyes.

He’s not mad exactly, but he’s definitely not happy either.

“Surprise?” Matt repeats, his voice flat. His gaze flick back to Spencer, who’s now shifting his weight awkwardly beside you. “This is how you decided to tell me?”

“Okay, it’s not how we planned it, obviously.”

“Clearly,” he deadpans.

You put on the best, innocent-looking face you can muster.

“Maaatttt,” you try again, deciding to use a different approach by being cute this time. “Don’t be so harsh.”

To your relief, it actually works on him, like it usually does whenever you try to charm your way out of trouble. His tough exterior falters because, no matter what, you’re still his baby sister. His face softens for a moment, shoulders dropping as he lets out a sigh.

“I’m not mad, okay? But I am your brother. And you,” he adds, pointing at Spencer. “You’re supposed to be my friend. I feel like I should’ve known about this before… well, before finding you like this.” Your shoulders slumps at his words. “How long has this been going?”

Now that is a tricky question. Explaining that you and Spencer occasionally had sex five years ago definitely isn’t something your brother needs to hear right now—or ever, really. You can almost feel Spencer tense beside you, probably having the same thought.

You clear your throat. “Last night.”

"Last night?" Matt looks at you as if you’re crazy. It might be the most disapproving look he’s ever given to you. "You're telling me this just started last night?"

"But—" you quickly add, holding up a hand to stop his train of thought. "We’ve been talking for a while, it’s not like it happened out of nowhere. Last night was just the first time we decided to actually do something about it."

“Right under my roof?” Matt��s brows pinches upward. “You lied about having a headache, didn’t you?”

“Wait, you had a headache? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You’re not sure you can handle two men pestering you at the same time. You focus on your brother instead.

“Look, we didn’t plan anything yesterday. Things just… happened,” you say, trying to explain without making it sound worse than it already does. “But it’s not only about last night. For what it’s worth, we were planning to tell to you. Just not like this.”

Your brother cocks an eyebrow. “So this isn’t a one-time thing?”

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. “God, no,” he says. You feel an arm snake around your waist. “I care about her. A lot.”

Matt stares at Spencer for a long moment, his face a mixture of frustration, concern, and something else. Acceptance, maybe. He looks back at you. “Is this what you want?”

You feel Spencer’s grip tighten on your waist. He’s also waiting for your answer.

“It’s what I want.”

Spencer’s thumb brushes over you as Matt lets out a long breath, his grip on the gun finally relaxing. “This feels weird.”

“In a good way?”

“In a bizarre kind of way.” Matt’s falls falls on Spencer again. “I’m still trying to process this, but if you hurt her—”

“I won’t,” Spencer promises. “I swear.”

“Good, because you know I can put you back to prison if you do.”

Oh, he knows. Spencer understands exactly what he means, after all, Matt was one of the few people who helped clear his name during one of the most horrific moments of his life. Even if there’s a slight jab in his words, Spencer can tell he’s being dead serious. Especially with that gun still attached to his grip.

You, on the other hand, are hearing this for the first time. “Wait, what?” you blurt out. “Prison? You went to prison?”

Spencer merely shrug. Matt finally lowers his weapon, shaking his head as if he can’t quite believe this is happening. “I need coffee,” he mutters, turning toward the kitchen.

“Wait…” Jake finally peeks out from behind the wall. You blink your eyes, forgetting he’s even there. “Does this mean Uncle Spencer is your boyfriend now?”

You feel three pair of eyes on you. Matt’s gaze is sharp. Spencer’s expression is cautious. And then there’s Jake, looking up at you with the straightforward curiosity only a child can have. To him, things are simple. Either you are, or you aren’t, and in hindsight, it really is a straightforward question. But nothing about this situation has been straightforward.

You look at Spencer for a fraction of a second. You can see the nervous hope reflected in his eyes. Maybe Jake’s question isn’t just his… maybe it’s Spencer’s too.

And sure, maybe it doesn’t have to be so complicated. Maybe it really is as simple as saying—

“Yes.” You can feel your heartbeat in your ears. “I suppose he is.”

If you’ve ever seen Spencer being happy, it pales in comparison to this. His eyes light up, and he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world. A genuine, almost boyish smile spreads across his face as you feel his warmth seep into your skin. There’s so much affection in his gaze it makes your chest tighten. He’s not just happy. He’s beaming.

Matt clears his throat awkwardly. “Come on, kiddo, let’s grab what your mom needs and get back to the hospital.” He glances back at you. “You guys coming?”

You nod absentmindedly. “Sure.”

He throws you both a look. Not hateful, but definitely not warm either. You see him grip his gun from the corner of your eye, more out of habit than necessity, before steering his son away with a firm hand on his shoulders.

“That went better than expected,” Spencer mutters the moment your brother is out of earshot.

“‘It’s not going to be as bad as you think’,” you mock, reciting the words he said to you half an hour ago.

“It wasn’t.”

“Spencer, he held a gun.”

“He thought I was an intruder. I would’ve done the same thing,” he points out, his tone surprisingly calm as he holds you by your waist. “Relax, okay? He’ll come around us. Eventually.”

“You’re awfully optimistic about this.”

“He likes me.”

He does have a point. Matt has always had a soft spot for Spencer, but you’re not sure how far that can go after what just happened. “I think you might have lost a few brownie points today.”

He considers the truth in your words. “Maybe,” he admits with a shrug. “But at least I earned a few with you.”

“Because of the boyfriend thing?” He’s grinning so wide that his eyes practically disappear into crescent moons. You poke the slightest dimple on his cheek. “Don’t act so smug. I’m still trying to process the fact that I’m dating an ex-felon.”

“I was framed,” he explains, and the way he says it so nonchalantly only deepens your confusion. He tries to smooth your frown with a kiss. “I’ll tell you everything on our first date.”

“Who said I’ll go on a date with you?”

“You will,” he simply says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“And what makes you so sure?”

Because he’s always been sure. The man who doubts everything, who overanalyzes every situation, looks at you with a certainty that makes your heart swell. You’ve seen that look before—the one that says he’s considered every possible outcome and decided this is the one that matters most. There’s something magnetic about it, the way he seems to know exactly what he wants, and right now, it’s you.

“Because I’m your mushroom.”

He’s so silly, yet there’s something so perfectly Spencer about it that makes the idea of not going on a date with him feel impossible. You shake your head, unable to suppress your smile.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter, but the warmth in your chest tells you he’s already won your heart.

And you don’t mind him keeping it.

[sagesskies]

been reading a lot of qt bl recently, and this idea struck me:

imagine you've just transmigrated into a world where you're the second male lead's best friend, when him and the fl enter a rough patch in their relationship because seriously, that guy flirts with way too many girls despite being in a committed relationship, and this time the fl has had enough and breaks up with him.

the 2nd male lead just has a downward spiral, because he was super dependent on the fl, and you, doing your job as his best friend, give him words of encouragement, as you were instructed by the system. but when he, unexpectedly, asks you to do more than give him advice, and instead help him in the direct process of fixing their relationship, you can't exactly say no when he's asking you so pitifully with tears in his eyes.

so, you help him, concocting schemes to win the fl over, sabotage the 1st male lead, and the like. this is way more than the original best friend did, where he just said some encouraging words and then proceeded to dip out of the plot till the emotional climax where he gets hit by a car and the female lead and 2nd male lead supposedly "make up" and "date again" at least, till the 1st male lead wins her back over.

you're able to actually get closer to him as well, past the shallow mask that all humans don, and get to know him as more than just 'a playboy with unhealthy attachment issues'

you learn that he likes to play the guitar and sing, that he cries when watching romance movies, that his favorite color is purple, that he dreams of making a career out of his music, and that nobody ever believes he can.

but when you place your arm around his shoulder, and look deep into eyes and tell him that you do, you believe in him, you see the way that his eyes widen in surprise, and how tears start to well up in his eyes, but completely miss the way his cheeks start to redden.

you actually miss a lot of things. how he always remembers your coffee order, how he knows the way you like your eggs made, how he remembers your favorite show and movie, and knows your handwriting by how you write your m's.

you also miss how he wraps his arm around your waist, drapes his jacket over you when you get cold, and likes to loop his arms around your shoulders and cling to you like a koala does to a tree.

what you do notice is how he's stopped talking about the female lead as much, how he only asks you how you're doing, invites you out not to plan something but to instead just hang like friends would, and when you bring up how the female lead has started dating the 1st ml he just blinks, and then says "Okay, good for them," like he wasn't bemoaning how close they were only three months ago.

and what you are forced to see is that the only person he's feeling possessive over is you. he's always texting you, asking where you are, who you're with, and what you're doing. he's glaring at anybody who even breathes in your direction, and one time your friends told you he threatened them to leave you alone.

slowly, you start to distance yourself from him. you decline his offers to hang out, you avoid him on campus, and have even gone so far as to mute his notifications because he's been sending you so many messages.

the system is alerting you of his unnatural behavior, and you tell it that you're very aware, and trying your best to get the story back on track. but by god, is he making this so hard.

it all comes to a head when you hear pounding at your front door, the sound muffled by the heavy downpour of rain, and when you open it you're, sadly, not surprised to see that it's the 2nd male lead, clothes soaked and sobbing, he's telling you he misses you. that he doesn't know why you're avoiding him, but whatever he did he's sorry for it.

"Just don't ignore me, please [Name]," he whines, "If you do, I might die!"

how will you get yourself out of this mess now?

[drarryspecificrecs]

2024.08 ~ Top 10 longest fics posted on AO3

1. The Emerald Room by echostep [M, 181k]

►While working a psychology internship, Harry Evans is presented with the challenge of analysing Draco Black, a mysterious patient who spends his days writing on the walls of his hospital room. But when the story of ‘Malfoy’ and ‘Potter’, a Dark Lord, and a magic castle starts to sound familiar, Harry struggles to find his place in a world that no longer remembers him.

2. The Art of Getting By by @thusspoketrish [E, 149k]

►This is a story about love. Draco is on a desperate mission to escape the devastating voice controlling his life, taunting him about his past, and cursing his future. As he reaches his breaking point, he’s sent to a psychiatric hospital, rendered mute, and struggles to find meaning in moving forward. Harry, grappling with his own demons, has been spiralling out of control with an unchecked temper. Unable to escape the anger that has consumed him, he finds himself involuntarily committed, believing that there’s little hope in achieving the semblance of normalcy he craves post-war. Their paths collide, and fate proves how beautiful and cruel it can be.

3. The No Divorce Clause by @coffeedrgn87 [E, 144k]

►Haunted by the war’s aftermath, Harry Potter flees his old life, searching for peace in far-flung corners of Europe. But peace proves elusive when he unexpectedly crosses paths with Draco Malfoy. In a world where magic lingers just beneath the surface, their journey takes them through enchanted cities and ancient secrets, testing the boundaries between rivalry and something far deeper. With unresolved tension crackling between them, Harry and Draco face a slow-burning connection that neither can ignore. As they navigate heartbreak, danger, and the shadows of their past, they’ll discover that the hardest battle isn’t always against dark wizards—it’s against the walls they've built around their hearts.

4. Out of the Dark by Chioces [T, 127k]

►Ten years after the war, most Slytherins have either been executed or gone into hiding. A few, like Draco, exist on the outskirts of society. Not that Draco minds, his life is simple and respectable. He runs a business he loves and keeps his head down. It's not perfect, but for Draco, it's more than enough. That is, until he makes the ill-advised decision to help a very drunk Harry Potter. Potter, true to form, takes this as an open invitation to not only invade Draco's home, but also to drag Draco into the political mess that Wizarding Britain has become. [...]

5. Lifeguards by patrick11stump [M, 123k]

►Draco Malfoy is simply trying to get on with life working at a muggle pool as a lifeguard. That is until a certain trio of troublemakers decides to come to HIS pool and change everything in his simple, stress-free life.

6. When We Were Lost (We Found Each Other) by spifty_one [E, 110k]

►If there was one thing Harry Potter could count on in his life, it was a guaranteed lack of boredom. So, it really shouldn't have come as a surprise that as he was making his way through Diagon Alley to the nearest Apparation point-the one day a month he ventured out of 12 Grimmauld Place-that he passes by an altercation that was absurdly unevenly matched. His whole world turns on its head from there. He just doesn't know it yet.

7. A love story by Year_ofthe_Rabbit [?, 98k]

►Draco Malfoy is just doing his best to keep his head down and get by as he counts down the days until the end of his probation. He clings to his secret dream of finding a way out of the drugery to earn his potions mastery, counting every knut and sickle he can scrape into his savings. His only indulgence is his weekly trip to Sereni-Tea, a cosey shop welcoming even to a convicted death eater. And Harry Potter, who came out of no where and is determined to make himself a part of Draco's life. [...]

8. One Starry Knight by @ferretboyandpotty [E, 93k]

►A story told through Draco’s perspective as he goes through life as a bored Prince, sad knowing he has to marry a woman he doesn’t love. Hope is well and truly out the window until Sir Harry Potter, the kingdom’s most popular Knight, is hired at the castle, and he shows Draco things he’s never experienced before. In one way or...another. There are troubles that lie ahead for both of them, mainly one being a deliciously evil King Lucius Malfoy. Angst, adventures and copious amounts of romance.

9. Show Me by VanessaCG [E, 77k]

►Nine years after the war, and Harry thinks he's fine. All right, his work is all-consuming and his social life is woeful. [...] Draco has spent years trying to establish himself as someone of worth to Wizarding Society, albeit in a reclusive, understated way. Throwing himself into his business in an attempt to manage his own anxieties and ignore the nagging voice telling him that he's not good enough, his private little world is at least safe and comfortable. Or as safe as he can make it. But when famous Harry Potter shows up in his shop after nine years, everything looks set to be turned on its head.

10. Hearts Need Change by Adora_Slytherin [M, 75k]

►Draco spends his days at the manor just like any other day. It feels like everything is the same until he chooses to change that. /// Featuring: Soft Draco, tea time, baking and lots of fluff hopefully.

—

※ Word count: 1k ~ 15k

※ Word count: 15k ~ 40k

All I Ask of You by veradubhghoill [E, 36k]

Beneath the Masks We Wear by Dbenny [T, 18k]

In Deep Water by @mallstars [E, 39k]

Kiss me on my pretty lips, I'd tear my soul out for a piece of this by fairies_withspirits [E, 15k]

Kitchen dancing to bad 90’s music by Big_dog_energy [?, 19k]

Meet me at Midnight by ProseMary [T, 15k]

A Smarter Hat Than Me by @enparallel [E, 32k]

Sore by rubygreene [E, 38k]

Viewer's Discretion by @mintyelbows [E, 21k]

The War of Souls by @ladyrava [G, 30k]

you weren't supposed to die (before I could kiss you) by @dobbyrockssocks [T, 28k]

—

Ongoing Fest/Exchange

※ Fics would be listed elsewhere.

Drarry Mini Bang | @drarry-mini-bang

HD Hurt-Comfort Fest 2024 | @hd-hurtcomfort-fest

HP Soulmates Fest 2024 | @hp-soulmates

[biteofcherry]

A promise that won't be upheld

part of Venomous Vows series in collaboration with @jamneuromain

mafia!Ari Levinson x female reader

summary: Your first impression of Ari isn't exactly a bad one, but it solidifies your decision to never have anything to do with him.

warnings: mafia!Ari Levinson; mob!Ari Levinson; soft dark!Ari Levinson;

Author's Note: This is sort of prelude to everything that happens. If you read the thread that started it all (and which is the core of what happens later), you will understand the title of this ficlet - why exactly this promise won't uphold 😏🤭

The sense of power doesn’t thrum through your veins as you cut across the lavish floors of the club, even though people part aside to let you through; neither it pulses as you take the spiral staircase to the VIP upper floors, where curious and hungry gazes glance your way, but no one dared to approach. 

At least not yet. Your father’s name is enough to keep most in line, but there is always someone who would be either too dumb or too drunk to make a move on you. The fact you could get rid of him with the mere mention of your last name didn’t give you a sense of power, either.

It’s the moment when you stepped down the narrow corridor that changed from lacquered black into burnt wood panels, which finally gave way into a beautiful oasis. 

Here, in the private garden sprawling above the city, you feel that rush. 

It’s not just a VIP area. To be allowed here is to be the inner circle. The very few who your father trusted. 

Or to be a monster equally influential as him.

Ari Levinson isn’t a close associate of your father. He doesn’t belong to the inner circle. He doesn’t belong to anyone, but the hell pit alone. 

But he’s here tonight. Exchanging who knows what false politeness and cutthroat deals with your father. 

You know he’s highly intelligent, brutally fast and decisive. Father wouldn’t sit down with anyone who didn’t deserve their position of power. But he’s not the kind of man you want to spend any minute with. 

Especially not on your birthday.

“I’d ask if he’s a stripper, but I’m not yet drunk enough for playing a dumb bimbo,” your friend chuckles next to you. 

She likes to play those games, especially with the dark and dangerous crowd - whom she proves to be idiots led by dicks. She’d almost cross a boundary, but make it so cute that the most ruthless of enforcers and mob soldiers were turning smitten and protective. 

Figures she’d set her sights on Levinson. Danger always lures her. On top of that, his looks also grab full female attention.

“That one is better to be left alone.” Averting your gaze from him, you turn and walk over to the further side of the roof garden, where garlands of lights are hung above a table set for a small group of people. 

Unlike your best friend, you’re not interested in poking the dragon. 

Or to even look at him too long, in case the devil snatches your soul somehow.

You prefer your partners to be more controllable. Lawyers, who have the brains and enough cockiness to make it spicy, but won’t get an upper hand over you. Mob boys who are in the higher ranks, but didn’t display alpha male behavior. CEOs who are too busy with their own empires to be hungry for having power over you. 

“He has to be a really big deal, if you’re saying that,” your friend muses, taking a seat beside you.

And he is.

Ari Levinson isn’t a man you’d want to find yourself near. Not only because of his reputation of being a ruthless and lethal leader. But because he’s not easy to control. He never would be. 

He’s a man who grips the reins of any interaction right away, twisting and pulling and lashing with a crop until any mare submits to him fully. He’s like that in business, but you have no doubt he’d be the same in any relationship.  

“Ladies.”

A voice smooth and rich as the last sips of thick, hot chocolate, resounds unexpectedly behind you. Startling you. 

When you turn, the devil himself is standing right there. His expression is neutral, void of any mischief, or malice. 

So damn controlled. To the tiniest muscle in his handsome face. 

“Mr. Levinson.” You greet him politely, hiding your annoyance at the fact you can’t read anything off his face, or his body language.

His body - impressively broad and thick, while still holding a jungle’s predator’s grace to it - isn’t stiff in discomfort, nor is it alert for a threat. It isn’t fully relaxed either. Somehow he’s perfectly balanced and in tune with his surroundings.

Yeah, definitely a man to stay away from, if you want to maintain your goal of always being in control.

Even if a small part of you wants to stretch along that body and rub your softness everywhere where he is hard.

“Wanted to pay my respects and wish you a happy birthday,” Levinson inclines his head your way. 

“Thank you.” It calms you, realizing it’s just a typical show of manners, which the mafia world puts such emphasis on while not batting an eye at killing. It’s quite comical. 

“I must admit, I’m surprised.” He adds, his tone for the first time betraying some kind of emotion.

Amusement?

“A mafia princess’ birthday being so modest? No party for hundreds of people and social media pictures? You must be setting new standards.” 

He doesn’t laugh, nor smirk, but you notice the way his blue eyes spark. It’s a short, fleeting thing, but it’s enough to grate on your nerves. It’s also enough to have your friend snort. Because of course she made nearly the same comment a few days ago, when you mentioned you just want a nice dinner and a few glasses of wine, not to party all night long.

Not only because you have enough noise and masses on a daily basis as you manage hotels and the party side of casinos - the legal front for the very illegal things your father runs. 

But because, as he called you, a mafia princess is never just a person of the evening for genuine celebration. 

You’re not naive or dumb to not know that those types of parties are a means to be shown around like a prized auction item to lure the highest bidders. Your father loves you, but you’re aware at some point he will arrange your marriage.

You want to spare yourself at least the whole circus of potential husbands, or their representatives, watching you and assessing your worth. 

“I’m not a college student on a spring break, nor a spoiled teen on a sweet sixteen.” You roll your eyes, not voicing the real reasons for the small celebration. 

Which was a tiny victory on your part, because your father couldn’t exactly show you off and wait for offers while it was only him, your friend and two cousins you were still waiting for. 

“No, you’re not.” Levinson agrees, his voice dropping an octave lower.

His eyes stay on your face, but it somehow feels as if he just dragged his gaze down your body in the most inappropriate way. You feel a warm tingle awakening beneath your skin.

“I wish you all a lovely evening. Once again, happy birthday,” he rolls your name on his tongue and his lips curve in a teasing smile.

“May it be a memorable one.”

You watch him turn and leave, moving with the confidence of a predator who knows the jungle holds no secrets from him. 

But he’s not reckless or stupidly cocky, you think. He’s simply (annoyingly) aware of his power. Which makes him all the more dangerous to be around. 

You make a promise to never find yourself in his orbit for longer than necessary. 

[theladyyavilee]

after thinking about it all day now I am insane enough to make it into an actual post, sorry for just copypasting my own tags, but alas xD

this was in response to this post about how buck probably didn't even realize at first how close tommy and he were standing, because him and eddie always stand this close which SO FUCKING TRUE, I just spiralled a little frome there

#but do you also think that NOW the next time he DOES stand this close to eddie he will notice?#DO YOU THINK NOW THAT HE KNOWS HOW CLOSE CLOSE IS AND HOW EASY IT IS TO BRIDGE THAT DISTANCE#HE WILL ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS BE AWARE OF EDDIE BEING THIS CLOSE TOO AND HAVE A TINY PART OF HIMSELF WAITING FOR EDDIE TO REACH IN THE SAME#WAY TOMMY DID BECAUSE REALLY ISN'T THAT THE LOGICAL CONCLUSION TO EASY CLOSENESS LIKE THIS#and like *screams into hands some more* WE KNOW that eddie steps in super close next episode#we know he touches buck#and it isn't the chin it is his shoulder and hip#but really that only makes it more insane#and maybe eddie isn't thinking anything of it because they HAVE always done this THIS IS WHAT THEY DO#they have always stepped close and sought out each other's bodies and touched and just generally had a pull towards each other#but on god I cannot see a world where now buck isn't aware of it in a totally new way#do you think eddie steps close and reaches out to touch him and buck flashes back to tommy stepping close#do you think the feeling of fingers on his chin and fingers on his neck start to blur?#do you think he feels eddie's grip on his hip and for just a second he wonders if there is gonna be a pull that pulls him in unexpectedly#the way that tommy gently pulled his chin towards him? how it was both unexpected and something that he had secretly deep down been hoping#for and been TRYING to provoke by stepping closer himself by swaying closer by stepping in#do you think that for just a moment all of these things blur for buck?#and that has never happened before but HOW are you supposed to ever forget now that you have these new associations#and you have to realize that oh maybe they are not so different from what I have always had#how do you deal with that? with how suddenly suddenly something you have always had has this new meaning and you can't unsee it#but you also can't have it and you have to lock that down because with tommy it already felt like risking everything but in an exhilarting#way#but like this? oh like this the risk is TERRIFYING

the more I am thinking about this the more insane I am feeling? because then I remembered that in the stills from 7x5 we know Eddie has his hand on Buck's side from the way the fabric pulls and EDDIE NEVER TOUCHES BUCK LIKE THAT, he usually only does the shoulder grab! which by itself is insane enough

BUT

BUT THEN

we know from the 7x4 stills that even though we did not quite see it in the episode because of the use of close-ups, tommy too had his hand on Buck's side during the kiss/in the aftermath of the kiss, THE SAME HAND ON THE SAME SIDE VERY LIKELY IN THE SAME SPOT

like? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS KNOWLEDGE OTHER THAN SCREAM?

the fact that they have eddie touch him like this specifically after tommy touched him like this, when he normally doesn't do that? making Eddie mirror Tommy's touch? FUCKING INSANITY

OF COURSE it'll blurr in buck's mind for just a second, there really is no way it doesn't, sensory memory is SO INSANELY STRONG, oh I am going fully insane over this

[writingforstraykids]

Letters Of Love - Felix🖤

Pairing: Felix x gn!Reader (poly!skz)

Word Count: 813

Summary: Next you remember a day with Felix, baking brownies together.

Warnings/Tags: fluff

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Jisung | Seungmin | Jeongin

You scroll through your photo gallery until your eyes catch on a particular image that makes your heart flutter. It’s one of your favorite pictures—one that perfectly captures a day filled with sweetness and laughter. The photo is of you and Felix, standing side-by-side in the kitchen, covered in flour and chocolate batter, both grinning as if you’ve just shared the world’s funniest inside joke.

In the image, Felix is holding up a wooden spoon with a bit of brownie batter on the tip, his other hand making a playful peace sign next to his cheek. There’s a smudge of chocolate on his nose, and his freckles are even more prominent under the bright kitchen lights, like tiny constellations dotting his sun-kissed skin. You’re beside him, leaning in close, a flour handprint marking your cheek—the culprit being Felix, of course, who had decided a few minutes earlier that making a mess was half the fun of baking. The two of you are surrounded by mixing bowls, measuring cups, and ingredients scattered haphazardly across the counter. In the background, you can see the oven’s timer counting down, the scent of chocolate almost tangible in the photo.

That day had been one of those unexpectedly perfect moments. You’d been feeling a little down, overwhelmed by the stress of the week, and Felix, with his uncanny sense for your moods, had suggested you bake something together. “Chocolate makes everything better, love,” he’d said with that sunshine smile of his, and you couldn’t argue with that logic. So, you’d put on some music, rolled up your sleeves, and let Felix lead the way.

It hadn’t taken long for the kitchen to turn into a chaos of laughter, teasing, and stolen tastes of sweet batter. Felix, ever the perfectionist, had tried to follow the recipe step-by-step at first, but it didn’t take much for him to abandon his usual precision in favor of playful improvisation. He’d ended up accidentally flicking flour at you, which had spiraled into a lighthearted war of ingredients. By the end, there was more batter on the counter (and on each other) than in the actual pan, and you both had to pause multiple times just to catch your breath from laughing so hard.

But the real magic happened when the brownies went into the oven and you both settled onto the kitchen floor, backs against the cabinets, just talking softly. Felix’s voice, low and soothing, had filled the space as he shared stories and dreams, his eyes shining with that quiet passion that always leaves you in awe. You’d listened, mesmerized by the way he seemed to light up just from being able to share a small moment like this with you. When the timer finally beeped, you’d both jumped up, eager to see the finished product, and the look on his face when he took the first bite—eyes wide, cheeks dimpling into that radiant smile—was sweeter than any dessert.

With a fond smile, you attach the picture and start typing your message, knowing exactly what you want to say to the boy who turned a simple baking session into a cherished memory.

---

Message to Felix🐥❣️:

Hey Angel,

I was looking through some photos, and I found this one from our brownie-baking day. Do you remember? I swear we got more batter on each other than in the pan! But I loved every second of it. You always know exactly what I need, even when I don’t know it myself. That day, I was feeling so stressed, and then you came along with your smile, your warmth, and your endless positivity, and suddenly everything felt lighter.

It’s not just the baking itself that I loved—it was being with you. I think that’s what you do best, Lixie. You make even the simplest moments feel special just by being yourself. I still remember sitting on the floor with you, listening to you talk about everything and nothing. You have this way of making life sweeter, of turning every second into something to smile about. Like magic.

Thank you for always knowing how to brighten my day, for bringing that sunshine energy wherever you go. Happy anniversary, my Angel. Here’s to more brownie battles, more flour fights, and more moments filled with your laughter.

Love you to the moon and back.

Your partner-in-baking and forever taste-tester

---

You send the message, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you picture Felix’s reaction. He’ll probably smile that wide, dimpled smile, eyes crinkling with joy. He might even send back a photo of his own—maybe of the same batch of brownies, or maybe just of him holding up a wooden spoon, ready for the next round. Because that’s Felix—always looking for ways to make you smile, to keep filling your days with the sweetness that only he can bring.

Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Jisung | Seungmin | Jeongin

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@zehina @jinnie-ret @atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @theo4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuuru @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @sapphirewaves @minh0scat @dis-trict9

[sunrisemill]

♡ The little things ♡

Summary: Matt has always been pressured to live up to his father and everything that he expects him to be. Y/n has always been very quiet and has been pressured by her whole family to step out of her comfort zone and live her life free from her worries. What will happen when they unexpectedly run into each other at a random ice cream shop?

(Warnings: Toxic family members (Nothing happens though dw it’s only mentioned)

Pt.2

(Matt’s POV)

“You want me to leave?! Fine then, I’m done dealing with this shit.”

I shout out across the house before slamming the front door behind me.

This is the third fight we've had this week.

Ever since my dad found out I've been ditching classes he's been on my ass about everything.

So what? I skip a couple of art classes. It's not like it actually matters.

The thing is my dad is a stern man. Ever since I was a child he told me that I needed to learn how to be a real man.

So that means I shouldn't ever talk about how I feel. I should just suppress my emotions, so I do that.

The only downside is that my emotions come back up in bursts of anger that I can't control.

It's not like I want to be this way, it's the way I've been wired since I could remember.

But the truth is I’m scared.

I’m scared that I’m never going to escape these emotions.

Everyone is going to forever know me as the miserable grump, Matt Sturniolo.

I wish I could change it around but nobody gives me the chance.

Maybe… when the opportunity arises I might have a chance, but I know that's not true.

As I start to spiral into worse thoughts, a hot pink neon sign in the shape of an ice cream cone catches my attention.

I find myself squinting my eyes as I try to make out the letters.

“Gelato Galore”

No way they’re being serious…

GELATO GALORE?

That's ridiculous but I might as well try it, all I want is to be alone and what better place to be alone than an ice cream shop during winter?

I step through the door and I’m instantly overwhelmed by the bright colours, I feel like I’m drowning in an ocean of pink.

It’s everywhere I look!

As my eyes dart around they land on the only person in the shop besides the workers.

It’s a random girl and she seems upset, I feel like I know her from somewhere but I can’t place it.

The way she looks is something you could only describe as a depressing portrait made by a struggling artist, her hair falling in front of her face as tears roll down her cheeks.

The redness on her nose matching the small cherry on top of her sundae that she seems to be refusing to eat by the way she pushes it aside.

I feel a strong urge to check up on her but I don’t know if I should. I’ve never been good at helping people in need.

I sigh as I walk up to the counter. Whatever she's going through is none of my business.

~~~~

(Y/ns POV)

I let out a couple of sad sniffles as I push the little maraschino cherry that's on top of my ice cream to the side.

He was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago…

I keep telling myself that he must be stuck in traffic or maybe he's just running late and I'm overthinking it all.

I've been repeating all the different scenarios in my head and reasons why he could be late.

My nails impatiently tap against the pink plastic spoon they gave me, I feel as though I’ve been here for hours when in reality it has only been around twenty minutes.

Why can’t he just call me or even text me if he’s running late?

That's when I see my phone light up on the table. I quickly pick it up and I'm met with his contact name.

As I read the message he sent me I could physically feel my heart drop, all of the hope I had was crushed within a second

“I can't make it.”

What the fuck? No sorry? No explanation? Nothing.

I can't believe he could treat me with such disrespect.

I feel like such an idiot…

I sigh in defeat, I place my phone down on the table and dive straight back into my ice cream to distract myself from the current heartbreak I'm feeling.

As I scraped some ice cream from the bottom of the tub, I noticed that the chair in front of me had just pulled back and someone had taken a seat on it.

“Hey, I hope you don't mind me asking, but I couldn't help but notice that something seems to be bothering you. Is everything okay?”

what? I lift my head and I'm met with the sight of a stranger.

But he's not really a stranger, It appears to be Matt Sturniolo.

Although I have seen Matt at school and around the small town that we live in, we don't necessarily run in the same social group.

I sigh as I sit up straight and put down my now-empty ice cream tub.

“I'm fine, really. Don't worry about it.”  

I look back down at the table, silently praying that he goes away but he stays.

“So…you a fan of ice cream?”

His small voice catches me off guard, I’ve never heard him talk with such little confidence.

Every inch of my body screams at me to get up and leave. To ignore the boy sat opposite. To run straight back to my room and rot in bed. Run back to my comfort zone.

But I hear my mother's voice ringing throughout my head.

“Come on, Y/n. You're not going to go anywhere in life if you don't put yourself out there. Just try it once, you might be surprised by what could happen.”

So I swallow every anxious feeling screaming at me to leave.

“Yeah. I mean… who isn't?”

A small smile on my lips. I lift my head to look at him, noticing the corners of his lips curled up slightly.

~~~~

I feel a peaceful smile tug on my lips, the scent of cold crisp air filling my senses.

I've always loved the winter. It has a sense of comfort that has always overwhelmed me.

I feel myself dipping deeper and deeper into a state of tranquillity when suddenly the boy next to me speaks up.

“You never answered my question earlier.”

He peers down at me. I sigh.

“What question?”

I know what question he's talking about. I've been asked the same question for years and I've grown to become annoyed at it as I grow older.

“I asked you, why are you always by yourself? Don't you have any friends?”

I tense up and he notices. He stops walking and grabs my wrist, forcing me to stop in the middle of the pavement.

“I'm sorry…”

I watch as his face contorts into a remorseful expression. His eyebrows knitting together.

“I didn't mean to come off as rude. It's just… I've seen you around school and you're always alone, I'm curious.”

I sigh as I look away from him. This is the last thing I need right now. I don't need someone here pointing out stuff that I already know.

It's frustrating. I tug my wrist out of his grip.

“Why don't you… oh, I don't know… mind your business.”

My tone is filled to the brim with annoyance. The way his face falls causes a twinge of guilt to seep into my heart but I push it down.

“Look, I'm just trying to help.”

He speaks through gritted teeth.

That was my last straw.

Without saying another word, I spin around on my heels and walk in the other direction. Completely ignoring the sound of his voice calling out for me.

So much for trying to make a friend.

(A/N: omg this literally took me weeks to finish 😭 I’ve been having an INSANE and extremely frustrating writers block but she’s done 😋 thank you so so much for reading <333)

Tags: @guccifrog @junnniiieee07

[kiiwiigii]

Tease

Felix x Fem!Reader

Summary: Teasing Felix always has a good outcome.

Warnings:

NSFW 18+

Smut

Anal

Word Count: 800+

Requested?: For Kinktober!

Can I ask for Felix for the final prompt of Kinktober? #R.I.PReader'sAss

A/N: There was an attempt.

Felix's hand came down with a hard smack, and I jerked at the stinging sensation in my ass cheek. He followed the smack with the coolness of his hand on my reddened skin. I moaned, feeling the juices between my thighs dripping onto the bed sheets below. 

"You look so pretty like this, baby." He murmured quietly before grasping a handful of my hair and pulling me backward onto my knees and right up against him, his hand cupping one of my breasts. "Imagine how much prettier you'll be with my cock stuffed in your ass." 

I couldn't help the debauched moan that escaped from between my lips, my heart thrumming with anticipation and a healthy dose of fear. There was a good chance my ass would never be the same after this. 

But I couldn't back down now. I had been teasing Felix all day, making sure to sway my hips and ass enticingly with every step. Pulling him into an empty hallway and whispering in his ear about how I wished the plug in my ass was his cock. He had responded by pushing me against the wall and nipping at my neck in reproach. 

I was sure he would have taken me right then and there had he been able to. But he couldn't. 

He knew it. 

I knew it. 

And now I was receiving the punishment for it. 

He pushed me back onto my hands and knees, and his hand came back down again, a loud smack ringing throughout the room. The smack had been unexpectedly harsh, but I couldn't help the way my body reacted to his touch. I moaned softly; my eyes closed as I savored the cold feeling of his hand on my skin. 

I arched my back, a moan escaping as his deft fingers teased the plug inside of me. 

"You like that, baby?" He whispered; desire thick in his voice. 

"Yes." I breathed. 

"Good." 

Felix then proceeded to shove his cock into my dripping pussy without warning, holding onto my hips with a bruising grip. 

The sensation of his cock stretching my walls and the plug in my ass nearly sent me spiraling. I could already feel the heat beginning to build as my walls started tightening up. 

"Coming already, darling?" 

I nodded, biting my lip as I felt his fingers curl around the plug, tugging it out gently. I gasped, feeling the cool air against my now loosened bud and then groaned, suddenly feeling empty as he pulled out of my pussy slowly. 

"Felix- Felix, baby. I'm so close, please." I begged. 

"Patience, darling. You'll be coming soon enough. I just had to get my cock nice and wet." 

A thrill went through me as I felt Felix push his cockhead against my tight ass. 

"Breathe, Y/N. Try to relax." 

I bit my lip, trying to relax my muscles as he pushed his tip inside me with deliberate slowness. Trying to relax was pointless since I immediately tensed yet again and quivered, trying to adjust to the pressure. It felt like an eternity before I felt his shaft slip all the way inside. Felix paused, letting me adjust before he began rocking his hips back and forth, barely moving. It wasn't long before the pain gave way to pleasure. 

"You're doing so good, Y/N." 

My muscles clenched around him, and I moaned involuntarily at how good it felt to have that large cock filling me up, stretching my insides just right.  

"Yes, Felix. Please. Harder." I panted, my voice trembling. 

Felix stuttered for a moment, surprised before he began pistoning his hips harder, his thrusts faster. He reached around and pulled me back by my waist again, his hands coming up to grasp at my breasts, pulling at my nipples as he thrust deeper and harder into me. 

"You feel so good, Y/N." He whispered. "So tight." 

I could feel the warmth starting to coil in my belly, my pussy pulsing and my body shaking as I tried to hold on for as long as possible. 

"I'm so close." I mewled. "Don't you dare stop."  

He squeezed my breasts harshly, and I cried out. His long fingers made their way south to my clit, circling it fast and hard. 

The coil finally snapped, and I cried out, my ass tightening around Felix, the waves of pleasure crashing over me as I came hard, my body tensing up and then shaking violently. Felix followed suit soon after, coming deep inside of me, his cool seed coating my insides before gushing out and running down my thighs. 

Slowly he pulled out and I moaned in disappointment, my body aching for his touch but also slightly happy for the reprieve. My ass stung and my pussy was still pulsing, but in a good way.  

"Don't worry, darling." He murmured, crawling back onto the bed and pulling me into his arms. "We'll go for round two soon enough." 

I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face. 

{Kinktober} // {Masterlist}

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[ichtios]

guys it seems like it is happening. after so many years, I'm loosing anxiety. Anxiety attacks, panic, they are in retreat. And I know why. And you would think I'm the happiest person ever. I'd think that too. But rn I'm the saddest person ever.

I realized I have nothing more to fear, to be anxious about, because I have nothing more to loose. The fear has no point of attachment. I lost everything I was so scared to loose. I'm living the life that I was so afraid to live since I was very little. Life that is cold, where no one is waiting for you at home, and you have no one to wait for. No one will hug you, hold your hand, hold you, tell you they love you. When you hear only your footsteps and hear your own voice talking to yourself.

For so many years I was scared to death that I will be left alone. Now I realize that my anxiety disorder became real, when my second bf dumped me. I saw that "love" is conditional (which is not, the real love is not, but that is what I learned), and that if I don't meet expectations I will loose. In my next relationship I was anxious from the start. He always made me feel that I am not enough, and I went into this anxiety spiral, where I was trying so hard to be "normal" and to prove that I can be "fun", but it was all out of fear. So the more I tried the more anxious and panicky I was, and there was no fun with me, I always ruined every "going out", we never went for vacations, etc. I developed severe panic attacks and health issues. Still I thought that if he would leave me, my life will be over.

As you probably know he finally left for good, 21 April 2023. And it was that evening, when I was falling into this abyss, when The Guy unexpectedly caught me. And since then everything started to change. I was getting better. At eating, sleeping, living. But I didn't realized everything yet. I think I was daydreaming so much, that I was living in some kind of illusion.

Then he was sick for one week, and now he is gone for one week abroad, and gives no signs of being alive. And somehow it made me realized, when I was finally left with no one (even if it is just for a while), that indeed I lost everything that I was afraid to loose and that I was ABLE to loose. It doesn't matter anymore how I behave, if I'm "normal" or not. Nothing to prove anymore, no performance. No test to pass. No "love" to work for, to bend over backwards for.

But what about The Guy you may ask, am I not afraid that I will loose him? (though we are not really a couple, but you know what I mean). The thing is - no, because I see that he loves me, and that it won't change because of the issues I have. I might be wrong but this is what I feel. He may not admit it, he may be cold towards me when I try to be close. But you know how his pupils dilute when he looks at me? his entire eyes sometimes become black. And the way he talks, the way he behaves.. I live long enough to recognize when someone is into me. And it is sincere. So, anyway, there is no anxiety attached to it. Yes I probably may loose him, but not because of me, not because of some "test" I fail.

Now that he is gone and I have this terrible feeling like it was all just a dream and he was a dream. And in fact this is my reality, this painful, cold, solitude is my reality. But no, he will be back. And I don't know what will be about us, but I know things are changing rn. And it is huge.

and btw tomorrow is my B-day.

(photo is from the middle part of Warsaw, it is some kind of college. I went there to see if I will have panic attack which I would normally have. There was none. I just felt overwhelming sadness, and this mantra went over and over in my had: you lost everything you could. there is nothing to loose. nothing matters anymore. And tears were streaming down my face. And it's a weird thing because it is so good but also so sad.)

[sycamorelibrary754]

A Christmas Carol

Summary: You are visited by the spirits of three of your loved ones on Christmas Eve. 

Genre: Family dynamic, Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending.

Pairings: Reader x Tony Stark, Reader x Natasha Romanoff, Reader x Vision, Reader x The Avengers (all platonic) 

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma, grief, and death.

A/N: This fic is based on the plot of A Christmas Carol and takes place yesterday and today in the MCU canon! Flashbacks are in italics. I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy it as well. Merry Christmas! 

Every night was a futile tussle of conflicting thoughts. If you sleep, you can forget. If you forget, you feel the pain of losing them all over again in the morning. It was a tragic loop of grief that you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy.

The Battle for Earth had sent you into a spiral of despair and darkness. How could it not? You lost your father, the woman who had become a second mother to you, and one of your best friends. It had only been two months, but those closest to you were doing their best to try and keep you afloat. 

As autumn turned into winter, you receded even more into yourself. The holiday season only served as a reminder of all that you had lost. Before you knew it, Christmas Eve was upon you and a knock on your door broke you out of your grief-stricken thoughts.

“Y/N?” 

You grunted in response, as Pepper slowly opened the door. A stream of morning light breaks through your dark room.

“I’m taking Morgan ice skating, I know she would love it if you came with us.” 

“No, thanks.”

Pepper sighed as she took a seat next to you on the edge of your bed. 

“Oh sweetheart,” her voice cracking. “Your dad wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

“That’s just it,” staring at the same spot on the wall across from your bed that you had been looking at for the better part of two months. “He’s not here to see it. Dad is gone, and he’s never coming back.”

“No, he’s not, and nothing I can say is going to bring him back. I know nothing will ever fill that hole in our hearts, but life doesn’t end for us,” emotion creeping up on her. “All we can do is keep his memory alive. Live life with the same curiosity and love that he did. 

You remembered the day you walked into Stark Tower for the first time. You were six, and your mother had passed away unexpectedly. She rarely ever spoke of your father, only to say that he was very smart. You were frightened, to say the least when your mother’s attorney picked you up from Child Protective Services. It had always just been you and your mom.

What felt like an endless car ride ended with you standing in front of the most intimidating building you had ever seen in your little life. You walked into a large office with full-length windows at the opposite end that overlooked New York City. A blonde woman in a skirt and matching suit sat behind the desk, while a dark-haired man with a goatee in a t-shirt and jeans stood beside her looking very nervous. 

The CPO officer greeted the two, and then there was some brief legal jargon your six-year-old mind didn’t understand. 

The officer leaned down to your level, “Y/N, this is Tony. Your dad.”

Tony just stared at you wide-eyed until Pepper smacked him on the arm. 

“Hi kid,” snapping out of his trance and smiling at you. 

“Hi,” you said shyly.

Your dad never stopped calling you kid, even when you grew up and started fighting alongside him as an Avenger. Tony was so proud of you after your first mission. He celebrated for 24 hours straight, recounting every move you made to anyone who would listen. 

But now there were no more celebrations. No more, “hey kid”, and no more late-night talks with your dad in his lab eating pizza. It all ended the moment your father snapped his fingers. Saving your life, but sacrificing his own. He was your hero, and you would miss him forever. 

You threw yourself into Pepper’s arms. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come ice skating? Get out for a little bit,” rubbing her hand up and down on your back. 

“No, you two go have fun,” you sighed.

“Okay, we’ll be back in a bit, please try and eat something,” rising from the bed and walking towards the door. She looked back at you one last time.

You pulled the covers back over your head and prayed for unconsciousness.

*^~^*

Your phone rang an hour later. You reached your hand out from under your blanket feeling around for the rectangle. You pulled it back into your cocoon and your eyes adjusted to the light emanating from your phone. It was Yelena. You slid your finger across the screen.

“Hello?”

“Why are you not ice skating with Pepper and the little Stark?”

“Because Christmas activities are for happy people, and I don’t even know what happy is anymore,” you admitted candidly. 

“I see.”

You heard shuffling on the other end of the line before a knock on your door broke through your blanket barrier. You ignored it. 

“What are you doing?”

“Well, I’m trying to get a friend to have a drink with me, but she won’t answer the damn door.”

“FRIDAY, open the door,” you grumbled as you lifted the blanket off of your head.

Yelena stood in the doorway holding a bottle of Vodka. 

“I’m not in the mood, Lena.”

“I don’t care, my sister is gone and we’re having a drink,” throwing the blankets off of you. 

You shivered as the air hit your body. Yelena sat down on the floor with her back up against your bed. You slid out of bed and onto the floor. The blonde took in the dark circles under your eyes and the thinness of your face. She knew you barely slept or ate these days. Her room was across from yours. Truthfully, she hadn’t been sleeping or eating well either, but she was better at hiding it. Yelena poured you both a shot of vodka. You took the shot in one fluid motion. It burned all the way down. 

You could almost hear Natasha’s raspy voice. 

“What happened dorogoy?” Running toward you as you stumbled off the Quinjet. 

You had just come home from a solo mission. A week alone in the field, limited contact. Natasha spotted the blood on your suit but relaxed when she realized it wasn’t yours. 

“I couldn’t save them all, Nat,” tears welling up in your eyes. “I wasn’t fast enough.” 

You started to sway as you grew weak with exhaustion. Natasha embraced you and didn’t let go. Public displays of affection were not her thing, but when it came to you normal rules never applied. She led you inside and straight to her room. She cleaned you up and poured you a shot of vodka. You weren’t much for hard liquor, but you needed it today.

“One fluid motion,” handing it to you.

You drank the shot and slammed the glass down on the floor. It burned all the way down.

From the moment you came to live with Tony, the Black Widow had a soft spot for you. You reminded her of herself a bit. A young girl who was thrown into a new and frightening reality after the only life you had ever known was tragically torn from you. 

Truthfully, there wasn’t anything Natasha wouldn’t do for you. Of course, no one could replace your mom, but Nat had become like a second mother to you. helping you with your homework, staying up late when you came home from your first date, teaching you to defend yourself when you told her you wanted to join the team. 

When it was decided that the Time Heist was your only chance of beating Thanos, your father forbade you from going. 

“No, Y/N! No way. I’m already going out of my mind at the thought of losing Pepper and your sister. I won’t lose you too,” Tony argued.

“I should be there, Dad! I’m a part of this team too. You need me,” you yelled. 

“No,” he said firmly. “I need you to survive,” looking you in the eyes before turning and leaving your room. 

You turned away in anger before picking up a pillow and throwing it toward the doorway. Natasha caught it without a flinch. 

“I know how you feel, Y/N.”

“No, you don’t, you’re going to Vormir!”

“You feel like you’re being sidelined because your dad thinks he can do this without you, but that’s just it, honey,” walking toward you, “He can’t do THIS without you,” holding her arms open wide. “This life. He would never forgive himself if something happened to you… and neither would I,” tears in the redhead’s eyes.

You embraced Natasha as your tears started to fall. “I love you, Nat.” You didn’t want to let her go, but you knew it was time.

“I love you, dorogoy. See you in a minute.”

Yelena’s shot glass hitting the floor snapped you out of your flashback. 

“How long are you going to stay in this room?”

“It doesn’t matter,” your eyes trained downward. 

“She wouldn’t want that for you,” tilting her head to try and meet your gaze, receiving only silence in return. 

“How are you doing it? How are you living?” barely above a whisper. “You had so little time with her,” finally looking up at Yelena.

She sighed deeply. “One day at a time.”

“I feel like I’ve lost another mom,” you cried.

“I know,” Yelena hugged you as her tears began to fall too. 

“You want to go for a walk with me? We can throw snowballs at the LARPers,” trying to regain her composure. 

“No thanks, Yelena.”

“I understand,” the blonde nodded, as she grabbed the bottle of vodka and walked toward your door. “My sister loved you, Y/N. Don’t let the way she died change the way you live.”

*^~^*

After Yelena left, you climbed back in bed. Content to spend the rest of Christmas Eve in the darkness of your grief. You dozed off again and when you awoke this time it was to the faint sound of Christmas music playing down the hall. You couldn’t understand how anyone could celebrate Christmas this year. Not without all of them.

A soft knock on the door preceded a voice you knew and loved.

“Y/N, it’s Wanda. Can I come in?” 

 You made something of a squeaking noise which Wanda took as a yes. The door opened slowly and the redhead poked her head inside. Her eyes wandered the room before spotting the lump in the middle of your bed. Clothes scattered across the floor and your uneaten food on the side table. She couldn’t stand to see you in this squalor. A simple wave of her hand vanished the clutter from your room. 

“Your thoughts are so loud, sweetheart.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry. Truthfully everyone’s thoughts are pretty loud tonight.” 

“Everyone?” 

“We’re having a little Christmas Eve gathering in the common area. No one’s in the mood, but Pepper and I agreed it was important for the kids to have some semblance of a normal Christmas. As best as we could give them, anyway… Please come watch the kids open a Christmas Eve gift. Billy and Tommy have been asking for you,” Wanda implored. 

“I can’t go out there, Wanda. I can’t look at the kids without crying,” your words muffled by the pillow. 

“Welcome to my world,” Wanda muttered. 

You lowered the blankets and were met with Wanda’s green eyes. Emeralds that cut through you with ease. The same bags that graced your under eyes had found a home under hers as well.

“What is grief, if not love persevering?" Wanda said softly. 

“Get that from a Hallmark card did you?” Rolling your eyes.

“No,” her eyes dropped to her lap. “Vis said that to me.”

“Oh, Wanda. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s okay,” caressing your cheek. “I know you’re hurting too.”

“He was my best friend.” 

You sat quietly in the compound library as the sun warmed your face. You came up here now and again for some much-needed alone time. Your eyes chasing the words across the pages of Little Women, your favorite book. 

The door opened, interrupting Jo’s conversation with Laurie. 

“Oh, excuse me, Ms. Stark. I didn’t realize anyone was in here.”

“No, Vis. That’s okay, come on in.”

“Why, thank you. You’re too kind,” shutting the door behind him. 

“What brings you to the only quiet corner of the compound?”

“I’ve come to read my daily book,” Vis stated matter-of-factly.

“You read a book every day?” Surprised by the admission. 

“Yes, it only takes me a few moments, but I’ve made it a goal to read every book in this library.” 

“The Mind Stone is in your forehead, aren’t you already omnipotent?” you giggled.

Yes, but I’ve found humans equal parts fascinating and odd. They think order and chaos are somehow opposites and try to control what won't be. But there is grace in their failings and elegance in their knowledge. Better still, they have taken to writing it all down,” holding up a book in excitement. “What better way to understand them than to read the words they have left behind.”

“You have a beautiful soul, Vision.” 

He smirked. “I’m a synthezoid, Ms. Stark. I was not blessed with a soul.” 

“Not to my eyes.”

“I remember that day,” Wanda smiled, wiping a tear from her eye as she left your thoughts. “Vis floated through my wall rambling on about how you were going to introduce him to your favorite writers, and trade books.”

You nodded silently, afraid if you said anything else that you would break down. 

“I can’t imagine how you feel Wanda. You’ve lost so much already,” unable to look at the witch.

“I should know enough about loss to realize that you never really stop missing someone – you just learn to live around the huge gaping hole of their absence,” staring at the same spot in the wall that you were. 

“I’ll tell the boys you aren’t feeling well,” snapping out of it. 

The guilt wracking your mind as Wanda walked away. 

“I love you, Y/N. Vision did too,” gently closing her door behind you. 

*^~^*

It wasn’t long before the distant melody of Christmas music faded away and silence greeted you once more. You prayed for a restful sleep. One that would carry you through the next twenty-four hours so that you could forget Christmas and all that you were grieving. 

Darkness fell upon your mind slowly but surely. As your clock struck 1 am, a breeze broke through the crack in your window. Small and cold, yet strong enough to bring your curtains to life. Golden light followed, illuminating your bed in a strong glow. Your eyes opened just as the light hit your cheeks. You stirred slightly as a voice emanated from the light.

“Kid… Come on, Y/N. Time to wake up.” 

You sat up in a blaze of confusion and fear. The glow softened, revealing the familiar figure standing before you. 

“Dad?” Your eyes were wide. 

No, Santa Claus,” he scoffed. “Who else would it be?” Smiling at you like he had never left.

“This—this can’t be happening. I’m still asleep. You’re not here,” frantically trying to wake yourself up from this nightmare.

Come on, kid. After everything you’ve seen in your life, you’re going to tell me that ghosts are where your suspension of disbelief rests. I don’t buy it for a second.”

“Why are you here?” Gripping your blanket tightly.

“I’ve been watching you, Y/N. I have to admit I’m worried,” arms crossed over his chest. “My daughter doesn’t just give up when the world gets cold, that’s not how I raised you.”

“I’m not who I used to be… not without you,” bringing your knees up to your chin. 

He held out his hand in front of you. “Come with me, Y/N.” 

“No, Dad. I can’t,” choking up at the sight of your father reaching out for you. 

“Rise, and walk with me.”

You hesitantly stood and took his hand. A surge of adrenaline coursed through your body at the feeling of his hand in yours again.

“Close your eyes, kid.” 

You felt his hand resting over your heart as a warmth surrounded you. 

When you opened your eyes, your bedroom was gone. You were standing on a snowbank. The fragile snowflakes were swirling around you and crunching under your feet. 

 “I know this place, you used to bring me here to go snowboarding when I was little,” taking in the winter scenery.

Hmm, until your broken wrist convinced Pepper that snowboarding wasn’t an appropriate activity for my little girl.”

“Hey, you were a great teacher. I felt like I could do anything,” looking around at the snow that blanketed every inch of your surroundings. “That’s how it always felt with you.”

A moment later, a child giggling broke through the muffleness of the snow. 

“Come on, daddy! Faster!” You turned to see a much younger Tony Stark sliding down the small hillside on his snowboard with you in his arms. 

He slowly came to a stop at the bottom of the slope and placed you down in front of him.

“Oh my God,” you whispered under your breath.

“This was our first Christmas vacation together. Right after you came to live with me, you remember? It was when you got your first—“

“My very own snowboard!!” Your younger self squealed as Tony pulled it out of a bag at the bottom of the hill. It was purple with pink polka dots. “Thank you, Daddy!”

You giggled at your innocent excitement. You watched as your dad helped you with your helmet and strapped your little feet onto the binding. “Now the key to snowboarding is bending your knees and keeping your shoulders square.”

“Woah!” Slipping slightly as you tried to gain your balance.

Tony then walked across the snow, leaving about a twenty-foot gap between father and daughter. “Okay, kid. Now bend your knees and turn your shoulders towards me.”

You looked up at your father. It may have only been twenty feet but to your six-year-old eyes, it looked like two hundred feet.

“I can’t do it,” you shouted. “It’s too far!” 

“Yes, you can. Your dad is here to catch you.” Opening his arms out wide. “Every chance you take in life isn't going to be easy. But it will be worth it, I promise. You’re a Stark, Y/N, and we never give up when things get tough,” smiling at you with love in his eyes.

You hesitate slightly before bending your knees and turning your little shoulders towards Tony. Before you knew it, you were sliding down the little slope and into your dad’s loving arms.

“I did it, daddy! I did it!” You giggled with joy.

You sure did, Y/N,” lifting you over his head. “Her very first time on a snowboard ladies and gentlemen, we have a true natural here!” Your father exclaimed. Earning strange looks from the people around you. 

You were overwhelmed by the cherished memory unfold before your eyes. Your father put a hand on your shoulder. 

“You’re a Stark, Y/N. You don’t give up when things get tough. Pepper and Morgan need you, kid. They need you to remember who you are.” 

You threw your hands around your father and sobbed. Even if this was only a dream, you thanked God for the opportunity to hug your dad again. 

“I’ll always be with you, kid.”

You woke up with a shiver in your bed. Your eyes searched the room for Tony, but the room was empty. Of course, your dad wasn’t here. You rolled back over onto your side regaining your bearings.

*^~^*

As you finally began to doze off once more, you could just barely make out the blurry outline of your clock. 2 am. The light illuminating the crack below your door knocked the sleep from your eyes and the cobwebs from your brain. The door creaked opened slowly as yet another glow greeted you. This one was not as harsh, but softer and warmer. As the light gently dimmed, you recognized the silhouette immediately. Natasha.

“Nat?” Your voice cracked as your throat started to close. 

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’m here,” the redhead reassured you. 

“No, no you’re still on Vormir,” squeezing your eyes shut tight hoping that when you opened them again she would be gone. 

“My body, yes. My soul, no,” sitting down beside you on the bed.

“I miss you so much, Nat, I don’t know how to do life without you,” words broken apart by tears as you hid your face in your hands.

“I miss you too, malyshka. Please look at me.” 

You wiped your eyes and looked up at the ghost staring back at you. 

“You’re more capable than you know, Y/N. From the moment that little girl walked into the tower, I knew you had something inside you that wasn’t so easily distinguished. Even if it feels dimmed now by all that you have lost, it will never truly go out. I hope it brings you some comfort to know that you’re not the only one who feels this way,” reaching for your hand. 

As you felt her calloused hand wrap around yours, darkness overtook your senses, and the bed disappeared beneath you. When the darkness faded, you were no longer in your room, but in the hallway. Afternoon light still casts shadows on the walls.

“What are we doing out here?”

Natasha gestured toward your bedroom door just as it opened. Yelena emerged holding a bottle of Vodka, just as she had done a few hours prior. You watched as she closed your door behind her and walked back across the hall to her room. You followed Nat into her sister’s room. Yelena tossed the almost-empty bottle of Vodka on her bed before sitting down on the floor. Her lip trembled as tears began to slide down her cheeks. She reached inside her pocket and pulled out a strip of old photos from a Photo Booth. You recognized it immediately, both Yelena and Natasha had told you of their brief time together in Ohio. The mission that made them sisters.

“She seemed to be handling it so well,” you said to yourself.

“Oh, detka. You must know by now that Yelena buries everything until she self-destructs.”

I’ve been watching her. She has become more and more reckless on missions lately, Natasha explained. “It’s almost as if she doesn’t care whether she lives or dies…” 

“That’s not true, that can’t be true is it?” You pleaded with Natasha. 

“I fear if someone doesn’t notice the pain she is in soon, it may be too late.”

You called out for Yelena, but she couldn’t hear you. 

“She needs you, Y/N. Don’t let what happened to me take your heart.”

“My heart left when Clint came back without you,” your eyes welling up again. “I should have been there, I should have stopped you!”

“I made a choice, detka. It wasn’t your responsibility,” wiping the tears that rolled down your face with the pad of her thumb.

“I love you, Natasha,” wrapping your arms around her.

“I love you too, Y/N. I’m always watching,” squeezing you tight. 

All at once, the scene around you faded away. Your eyes shot open as you sat up in bed. She was gone. 

*^~^*

You sat there in shock, unable to cope with what you had just seen. You had already lost so many, you couldn’t lose Yelena too. It was unbareable to ponder. All at once a soft whooshing sound suddenly hit your ear. You slowly backed up onto your bed until you bumped into the headboard. A hooded figure slowly floated through the wall and stopped in front of your bed. 

“Who are you? What do you want?” Your voice trembling.

The hooded figure reached up and carefully removed its hood.

“Vision?” The name softly escapes your lips.

“Hello, Ms. Stark.”

“What is going on? Why is this happening to me?” Shouting in frustration. 

We’re worried about you Y/N. You can’t continue down this path, you have so much more to do. So much more love to give.”

“I can’t do it, Vis. I’m so tired.” A mix of exhaustion and desperation poured out of you.

“Yes, you can, Y/N. Do you think we would have made the trip if we didn’t think you could?”

“I feel so lost,” your voice barely above a whisper.

“The ones you love are lost without you, Y/N. Every day that you spend in this room, the ties that bind this family together wither away. And once they are gone, they are gone forever.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come with me,” the synthezoid ordered. 

You stood as Vision grabbed your hand. Your room melted away once more and you found yourself floating down onto an empty street.

“Where are we Vis?”

He pointed toward an entrance gate that you recognized instantly. You were on the street in front of the entrance to the compound. Snow falling softly all around you. As you walked towards the gate, a sign plastered across the metal came into view. 

Avengers Compound closed indefinitely. Property sold by order of Pepper Stark, Stark Industries CEO. 

“What is this Vision? Where is everyone?”

They’re gone, Ms. Stark. The Avengers are no more.“

“But, but…,” you stuttered. “I don’t understand?” Starting to panic. 

A wave of his hand produced a newspaper that he somberly handed to you. The color drained from your face as you read the headline. 

Avengers Are No More: The loss of the late Tony Stark’s eldest daughter proves to be the final straw for Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. 

“What is this Vis?” You could barely get the words out. 

Fury begged you to go back out into the field. Despite Mrs. Stark’s protests, you are your father’s daughter; stubborn to a fault. You insisted on going alone, but you weren’t ready. Your focus was tattered and your reflexes were dulled. They couldn’t cope with losing you, Y/N. They blamed one another for what happened. It tore them apart.”

You reached for the gate in front of you, your knees going weak. 

“Why are you showing me this, Vision,” tears streaming down your face as you sunk into the snow. 

“Because there is still time, Y/N. Time for you to save your family and to save yourself, but you need to let your loved ones in. Find comfort in their embrace, and let them find comfort in yours.

“I will, Vis.” You sobbed “I won’t let it wither away. Please, just let me go back!”

Vision took your hands in his. You’re going to be okay, Y/N. You’re never alone. We’re always with you.”

Everything slowly faded away into nothing. You woke with a cry. You struggled to catch your breath as you touched your face and pinched your arms.

“I’m alive!” Sitting up in bed. “There’s still time.” You reassured yourself. “FRIDAY, what day is it?”

“It’s Christmas Day 2023, Ms. Stark.”

“Thank God!”

You jumped out of bed and ran out of your room.

“It’s Christmas! Wake up, you guys!” You shouted happily as you banged on Yelena and Wanda’s doors. 

Pepper appeared at the end of the hall. Still in her pajamas with Morgan in her arms.

“Y/N? Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“I'm more than okay. It's Christmas and we're together! Hey, little sis! Come here,” grabbing Morgan from Pepper’s arms and kissing her cheek. “Should we go see what Santa brought you?”

“Yeah!”

You ran towards the living room with Morgan in your arms.

“What is going on?” Yelena mumbled emerging from her room with an impressive bed head. 

“I was just about to ask the same question,” Wanda added. She wiped her eyes as Billy and Tommy ran past her towards the Christmas tree.

“A Christmas miracle,” Pepper whispered.

[sitp-recs]

Hello Liv, hope you are well ❤️ Thank you for the amazing work you do, I am so glad I started following you.

I am struggling a bit at the moment, and was wondering if you had some cozy drarry to recommend? Could be hurt/comfort or anything else, but preferably not to explicit. If you know of some where either of them is dealing with figuring out they are asexual that would be great, but I haven't really found many fics with this before, so no worries if you don't.

Again thank you so much for all that you do, I really appreciate it ❣️

Hello darling, I’m sorry to hear it’s been a rough time for you 🫂 here are some of my favourite comfort fics that I’m always revisiting to lift my spirits. All of them are T-rated, except for Nice Things (M). I hope they help! Take care 💜

Ace Drarry:

Glowing by @cavendishbutterfly (10k)

Harry's lived alone and vampiric in his cottage for ages, until a long-lived Draco Malfoy suddenly shows up to answer an advertisement Harry had practically forgotten he'd put in the Prophet.

Passion Cake by @icmezzo (19k)

It’s all about desire. (Harry orders a magically enhanced cake from a chic London bakery, and from there it all goes to hell in a cake tin. Also, will someone please tell Harry what Passion Cake is?)

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them (or Draco Malfoy's Guide to Stop Dying and Start Living Instead) by nerakrose and dustmouth (96k)

Malfoy is way too interested in coroner reports for somebody who's definitely not looking for ways to die, Harry wants to be friends with him, and Ginny wants to break up with Harry.

Misc:

Waiting for that Feeling by @sorrybutblog (4k)

Draco Malfoy has a car and Harry Potter is on the case! Featuring Muggle car repair, a road trip to Cornwall, and falling in love in a Ford Fiesta.

Thermodynamic Equilibrium by @dorthyanndrarry (5k)

Harry's far too hot. Draco's always cold. And somehow against all odds, together they create a perfect equilibrium.

Life goes not backward by @shealwaysreads (9k)

Harry still isn’t used to gifts, but this one is different. A story of coming home, finding safe ground, and the wild courage of putting down roots.

warmest part of the winter (orphaned, 11k)

It’s not even a balcony, it’s just a window with a bit of a ledge, and Draco’s read Shakespeare anyway, he knows how this one ends.

How We Throw Our Shadows Down by thistle_verse (14k)

Draco has finally found the perfect, rare piece to complete his collection. The only problem is that the item belongs to Harry Potter, the last wizard on earth Draco wants to ask another favour from.

The Snitch-Maker by Omi_Ohmy (21k)

Draco is content with his Snitches, with the tap tap tap of his hammer, and the tiny gears and sharp scent of metal in his workshop - until one day Harry Potter appears, asking for help to solve a rash of Snitch-tampering in the Quidditch world.

With Great Yawns and Stretchings by sugar_screw (22k)

The coffee is very good. Really. And the cats are so cute. That's why Harry goes so often.

Nice Things by aideomai (M, 22k)

The first thing that happened was Theodore Nott came back from France.

Doing the Lambeth Walk by @blamebrampton (26k)

There are only three traditional choices for the cashed-up hero after victory. Harry Potter is too young to settle down and provide the wizarding world with a happy ending, and has too acute a sense of humour to spiral downwards into a spectacular flame-out. That leaves a life of good works.

Follow the Water by @xanthippe74 (38k)

Harry Potter’s life is fine. Maybe a little dull and predictable, but he shouldn’t complain about that, right? When he unexpectedly finds himself at Luna’s house one afternoon, Harry gets invited to join the secret wonderland that she’s creating with a surprising group of friends.

Like Lightning at Your Fingertips by potterwatch (43k)

The problem with living with another insomniac is, eventually, they find out you’re one, too. When Harry and Draco return for their eighth year, they think they’ll see very little of each other. Then McGonagall assigns them to room together. And the castle starts breaking. And there’s that thing with Potter’s magic.

A Room Up There (And You In It) by @the-starryknight (59k)

When Preservationist Draco Malfoy was assigned to work on Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, he was excited to delve into the gorgeous Black family antiques. His excitement quickly ended when something in the House decided it did not like his presence one bit.

Art:

Going Postal by dustmouth

So Draco and Harry sort of maybe have a bit of a thing going. Which is all fine and good, but would probably be more effective if they managed to be on the same continent for more than five minutes at a time.

[itsscromp]

I'm a sucker for found family, Mortal Kombat and Spider-Man.

So, I was wondering if I could ask for a reader who's similar to a Tarkatan, with the mouth being all toothy, being friends with Insomniac Peter? I think it'd just be funny to have Peter be like 'yknow we've been friends for a while, you can take off the mask' and they just sit there like.

Insomniac peter parker X reader platonic

Ooh interesting, very very interesting. Let's give it a shot *cracks knuckles* word count: 811

It all happened so fast, one minute you were in San Francisco looking around the new West Coast Avengers base. The next, half the city was destroyed and people were infected with the terrigen mist. Turning them into Inhumans. Now you didn't develop right away. But when you got home in New York. That's when you develop your powers. Enhanced strength and reflexes but it developed abnormalities. Your bones seem to come out of your arms and turned into sharp spears. Not only that... Your mouth turned into lipless razer sharp teeth.

You were a monster, A living breathing monster, seeing the sight in the mirror made you scream in horror. Tears spilling from your eyes, You rushed to the A-day specialists but they said there was nothing that could be done as there was no cure for it. Spiraling into a week's depressive episode, trying to work around everything, specially eating food with razor-sharp teeth. When you do go out in public, you never leave without wearing a long-sleeved shirt to hide the spears and a surgical mask to cover up your teeth. It seemed to work, you looked like everyone else.

But when you met Peter at Doc Ock's lab when he and you were working as interns, you two quickly became close friends. Always never seen without the other. Peter made you feel slightly normal after everything that had happened. But to this day you never showed him your face. Fearing he'll scream in horror and run away. Never wanting to be friends with you ever again. The fear of that happening haunted you.

But one night, when you and Peter were hanging out in his apartment. He noticed you were still wearing your mask inside. It kind of confused him why you were always wearing your mask.

"Hey y/n can I ask you a question ??"

"What's up ??"

"It's been a few months since we met and that, But I've never seen you with your mask off. Your not gonna get sick inside here" He tried to joke. But seeing you shift on the couch uncomfortably made him realise this is serious.

"Hey... what's wrong ??"

He tried to place a hand on your forearm in comfort, but you held it against your chest so he didn't feel the bone. Tears once again sting your eyes. He was gonna find out. Your best friend was going to think you're a monster. Might as well get this over with.

"Peter... If I show you... please don't freak out"

"Y/n, your my friend. why would I ever freak out ??" He smiled comfortingly.

You then began to take off your jacket and rolled up your sleeves, revealing the bone spears. Then taking off your mask, revealing your teeth to him. You didn't even look at him. Waiting for his scream in horror, waiting for the fear in his eyes. All the anxiety and insecurity creeped back and it made you cry.

"Hey hey... it's ok y/n"

"No, it's not Pete !!! I'm a freaking monster, Look at me. I'm terrified of myself. I'm hideous. There's no cure for this..." You spoke through your sobs.

Peter didn't respond, he just let you let everything out. Letting you get all the frustrations out. Once you got everything out, Your voice was raspy and you were shaking. Peter then gently got up and walked to you, unexpectedly to you. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a comforting hug.

"I'm so sorry that this happened to you y/n. I really am, But I'll tell you this now. I wouldn't trade our friendship for anything. You as a person matter more to me than how you look. Your my best friend y/n.. my best friend."

You started to cry again. This time from the overwhelming amount of love. Wrapping your arms around him back and holding him tightly.

"I'm a monster..."

"Your not a monster, Your y/n."

You chuckled at that. Feeling the anxiety and insecurity slowly subside and feeling the weight lifted of your shoulders.

"But I guess... since you told me this, I guess I have a secret to tell you too"

"What do you mean ??" You pulled out of the hug and looked at him in confusion.

He then stepped back and jumped, Jumping to the ceiling and pressing his fingertips on it, Sticking to it and then began to crawl around. You saw this before.

"Your... Spider-Man ??"

He gently nodded and then hopped back down onto the ground.

"But my point still stands. Your you and only you, I wouldn't want to change you in anyway possible" He smiled at you.

You smiled with your eyes. For the first time in a long time, you felt loved, accepted and secure. Your best friend wouldn't change you because you were you. Nothing more nothing less.

A/N: Terrigen Mist and Inhumans were plot points from the Square Enix Avengers game.

Taglist: @callofdudes

[anxietycroissant]

So this has stalled but in case anyone else lets stuff slip through the cracks like I do on Ao3, here’s the first chapter of my (so-far) #sydcarmy rambling story that never gets to the point. It’s four chapters so far and I’m hoping this will motivate me to keep it going.

It takes place immediately post season 2 as Carmy gets busted out of the walk-in. It’s a bit feel-good so far but that is unlikely to continue without a few bumps in the road. Enjoy! If you’re lazy I’ve literally pasted the entire first chapter into this post like an absolute champ.

Chapter 1: Mister Freeze

Late night after Friends and Family

The Bear BOH, Chicago, IL

Syd entered the kitchen quietly from the door that led outside, wiping her dry lips with the back of one shaking hand. They had actually pulled off the night, even with Carmy stuck in the walk-in. She pulled her eyes shut as she felt a low swooping sensation in her stomach as the memory of her coming so close to giving up while doing expo flashed in her mind. She never thought she’d be so thankful to Richie. He completely saved her ass. She had wanted to thank him profusely at the end of the night, but he was nowhere to be found as Tony (or was it Terry?), the fridge guy, was breaking Carmy out of the walk-in. Her fingers had begun to haltingly compose a text to Richie to see where the fuck he was, but she figured that she’d save this big conversation for another day. Her gratitude was too big for WhatsApp and that’s just how it was. Plus, what in the actual hell was making her phone so greasy? Olive oil?

Richie unexpectedly saved the day… what the fuck was that? A smile edged up the corners of her mouth until her face ached. It was funny how much she needed to remember that sometimes people can still surprise you in the best ways. She frowned, as a cousin of that thought entered her mind. People can also let you the fuck down.

Carmy was her partner, and she valued his experience and opinion above almost everything. But he really lost himself. It wasn’t so much that he broke his promise to her that he wouldn’t let her drown. It was more that he just totally broke down. She’d never known somebody who could be both so brilliant and yet so unable to cope when things got tough. Everyone had tried to talk him out of his anxiety spiral, but nothing anyone said had done any good in the end. The only person who could help Carmy was Carmy, and that sure as shit didn’t happen.

She had heard bits and pieces of things he had said to Tina from inside the walk-in as she zoomed around the kitchen trying to get things done. She didn’t find out the whole story until later. After the last tickets of the night came through and the stress level of the kitchen started to even out, she realized that until that moment she had forgotten all about Carmy. That’s the thing about working at such a high level: it’s good and bad to focus so completely on something that you totally forget any and everything else.

The moment her thoughts circles back to Carmy, she stopped checking up on everyone and walked back towards the walk-in. The familiar scent of clean, hot dishes and the lingering odor of hot oil hit her as she shuffled tiredly away. She saw the back of Nat's blonde head and could almost physically feel the worry she was directing towards the metal door of the walk-in. Nat must have felt Syd watching her and whispered, “I keep wondering why this is taking so long! Pete keeps circling the block in the car waiting for me. I just want to see if Carmy’s okay, but every time I try to talk to him through the door he won’t say anything. He’s being such a little bitch right now!” She sounded equal parts worried and disgruntled, like always. Syd smiled and cracked a yawn. “You go ahead, Nat. I promise I’ll check up on Carmy and get him home safe. You and Pete head home and rest up. You were amazing tonight, but you look a little bit like…,” her face froze as she saw Natalie’s raised eyebrows. ”Yeah. Um, what I actually meant to say was that I’ve like, got this. Yeah,” she fumbled awkwardly.

Nat just nodded, not even hearing that Syd had basically tiptoed really close to telling her that she looked like hammered shit. “Thanks, Syd. I don’t know what any of us would do without you. Text me if you need anything or if I should come back, OK? And let me know what he says, yeah? And this is a big ask, but… can you see if you can get him to eat something?” Nat rubbed her eyes, causing her mascara to smear ever so slightly. Syd wondered what her own mascara was doing at that moment. “And oh yeah,” Nat spat out with venom, “It would also be great if you could calm him the fuck down and get him to stop getting in his own freaking way all the time.” She did have the decency to grimace in apology after that last bit. Syd cocked her head to the side, already feeling defeated. “Should I be like, taking notes, Nat? Or is that all?” Nat let out a harsh laugh and squeezed Syd’s shoulder, practically racing out the door. ‘Fuck,’ thought Sydney , ‘She’s leaving before I can change my damn mind.’

Syd leaned her back against the wall, and slowly sank to the floor to wait for Carmy to get out. She waited a few minutes longer before the guy whose name probably began with a T finished with the door. Before he opened the door, he said, “Hey, no offense, Syd… but can I get paid before I open this door? Carm has been saying some weird shit and I just want to get the hell out of here.” Syd nodded distractedly, running a hand along her braids. She reminded him just to bill them. She was not going to call Nat back in right now to ask what the new process for paying contractors was. And honestly, she wasn’t dying to know how much money it was going to set them back to have this emergency work done. Mystery Man just shrugged, his gesture seeming to mean that he didn’t trust her promises but that he was too tired to care. “Thanks so much for helping, have a great night!” Syd called out as Terry or Tim or Tony made a beeline for the exit.

‘Well, shit’ , Syd thought. 'He didn’t even open the door all the way.' She hoped she could. As she pushed, the door swung cleanly on its hinges until it was all the way open. She stepped in, the cool air a welcome change from the warm kitchen against her flushed skin. Carmy was just sitting there staring at the floor, seemingly unaware that he was free. With his arms wrapped around himself, he had his head down in between his knees. His blonde curls obscured his eyes, so she couldn't tell what he was thinking. Syd let herself sink down next to him. She cautiously put an arm around him and wrapped her palm around his shoulder. The cold of his shoulder reached up and bit her. He tensed up immediately but relaxed a bit when he realized it was her arm and not someone else’s.

“Syd,” he whispered hoarsely, “I’m so sorry, Chef. I’m so, so sorry.” He either didn’t have the energy or the will to look at her. “I broke my promise to you already.” He seemed so bereft, so adrift, that Syd couldn’t even voice her anger or disappointment at that moment. “Carmy,” she said softly, “Let’s get you out of here and then talk about it.” She kept her arm around his freezing shoulder but got onto her knees so she could leverage her weight to help him stand up. She thought he would put up more of a fight, but he got up willingly enough. She dragged him over to his locker and then helped him into his wool jacket, and had to physically pull his feet out of his Birkenstocks and put them into his sneakers. It was a bit worrying, the way he was accepting her help without question. She got her bag out and changed her own clothes and shoes, and then they walked out to his car. He just stood there, so she told him she was driving him home. He didn’t argue, didn't smoke a cigarette, didn't give her shit. It all kind of worried her.

The atmosphere in the car was tense and quiet as soon as the doors shut. Syd turned on the radio to fill the silence. She was thankful that at least they weren’t listening to any of his fucking depressing music. Syd, under the guise of running a hand through her hair to tuck a loose braid behind her ear, was really sneaking multiple sidelong glances at Carmy as she drove to his place. To his credit, he wasn’t giving anything away. His blue eyes just stared straight ahead, devoid of any emotion. She kept hoping she could think of something to say, but her brain was maxed out. Also, she was pretty sure there was trash or something under the gas pedal, and she needed to focus on not killing them in a fiery car crash. Carmy started mumbling something as they approached his neighborhood, apparently to himself. Syd sighed and eventually found parking underneath a tree by his building.

Even later that night

Carmy’s apartment

The two of them slowly walked up many, many stairs to his apartment. Syd figured that this was the only way left to find a decent apartment in Chicago; find something on the hundredth floor with no elevator. She twisted the key in the lock and opened his door. They both stumbled inside. Carmy waved at her as he slowly slurred, “Thanks, Syd. Go home and get some sleep. You killed it tonight.” She gave him a half smile and nodded. But as she started to turn around and head for the door, something didn’t quite feel right. She whipped her head back around and caught Carmy shivering. He had apparently waited to fall apart until after she left. “Carm, what the fuck? Why didn’t you tell me you were so cold? We had the heat on high the whole way here,” Syd huffed, losing what little patience she had left. “We could have saved time going to the ER!” At that thought, Carmy really looked at her. And he looked scared. “Syd, please,” he whispered, “No doctors, okay? I just can’t. I’m so tired and those places freak me the fuck out.”

“All right, Carm, but I can’t leave you alone- and we’ve got to get you warm.” He just looked at her, utterly spent and waiting on her next move. “Shit,” she thought. Maybe he has mild hypothermia? Is that a thing? Can you be just a little bit frozen? She Googled it and it was a thing. She also Googled if spiraling makes hypothermia worse, but the only thing that Google advised against was hot baths. Not super helpful, but good to know? She was torn between calling an ambulance and trying to fix him herself. If she was being honest, she didn’t have the energy to convince Carmy to willingly leave in an ambulance. And she certainly didn’t have the capacity right now to get him down those stairs on her own. She sighed and decided to put the kettle on. His depressing apartment wasn’t helping either.

“OK, Carm, let’s get you into something warmer,” she said dully. He just stood there, so she slipped into his bedroom. Pulling open drawers that barely slid open, she found some sweatpants that somehow looked like normal sweatpants but also like an artisan had handcrafted them in a long-forgotten Italian village. As she ran her hands across the expensive fabric, she wondered where he shopped. And when did he shop? Did he secretly have a massive online shopping addiction, or did he spend every day off buying expensive as fuck sweatpants and obscure white t-shirts? After grabbing the sweatpants, she found a thick, long-sleeved tee. She also grabbed some boxers and thick socks.

As she padded back to Carmen, she saw that he was shivering more than ever. “Arms up, dude,” she said sternly. He put them up without a fight, although they shook slightly. She pulled up his shirt, catching her knuckles on his chest as she did. His skin felt like ice. ‘Shit,’ she thought. New clothes weren’t going to be enough. She slid the new shirt over his head anyway and helped him pull his arms through the sleeves. She tried not to stare at his body while he was in this vulnerable state, but it was an exercise in control. Because all of his muscles were on full display less than a couple of centimeters away from her eyes. If she had had more time, she’d have taken a mental inventory of a few new-to-her tattoos. Her face felt hot all of a sudden and she shook her head to stay on task.

He managed to get his shit together for a second and changed his pants and boxers in his bathroom with the door (halfway?) closed. He was taking too long, so she pushed the door open and pulled him back out. She gave him a long look, sighing. She didn’t like what she saw. A wax version of a person stood in front of her, without substance or colour. Maybe it was just her, but he looked even paler than usual. His skin normally had a golden undertone with a blush of red ready to rise up just underneath the surface of his skin. Not that Syd had perfectly cataloged the colors of his skin in her memory or anything. Because that would be a new level of weirdness. Just then the tea kettle began to whistle. Sydney took some dusty mugs down from his cabinet and some even dustier tea bags, making tea for them both.

She dragged Carmy to sit down on the edge of his bed and handed him the scalding hot cup of tea. He looked at it, then at her, and then back at the tea again. “Syd,” he trailed off. “I’m fucking cold.” Syd looked up at the ceiling. Why did this shit always happen to her? How did she find herself in these situations? She felt like she was in a really random episode of a TV show with endless seasons, like Grey's Anatomy. This scenario had played out at least a time or two on that series, she thought to herself.

She gestured to Carmy to take off his shirt. “It’s either that or we go to the hospital,” she warned, as he looked at her in disbelief. “We have to get you warmed up somehow, and I’m afraid to put you in the shower when you’re this cold. If you fall and pass out, I don’t think I can pick you back up. I know we’re the same height, but fuck, dude, I don’t work out!” He let her come closer and take his shirt off. The collar got stuck on his nose for a second, and Syd heard a high laugh escape from her mouth. “Cool, super cool,” Syd thought. “Real chill.”

She gently pushed Carmy down onto his pillow and then laid down beside him. She pulled the covers over them both and wrapped her arms gently around his body. His eyes were tightly shut, and his shivering shook them both. “Syd… I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve this,” he whispered through chattering teeth. “Hey,” Syd whispered excitedly, “you said two whole sentences! That’s more than you’ve said in the last hour!” Her grin faded as she saw the misery etched on Carmy’s face. His body felt tense like he would bolt if he could. Did he really hate this so much, or was he simply ashamed to be so weak in front of her ?

“Hey, Carm, it’s just me. You can relax, let’s just... You know? Get you warm, ok? You’re totally fine. We’re just cuddling, right? Nothing scary is happening. It’s just me.” But then a sudden realization hit her. “Oh fuck,” she thought, cringing inwardly. He has a girlfriend. Who is an ER doctor? Of course he’s tense. “Carm, should I call Claire? I’m sure you’d much rather her do this, right? Especially since she’s a… fuck… I don’t know? Actual doctor who knows what she’s doing? I can’t believe I’m such an idiot! I’m so sorry!” But Carmy just shook his head, pressing it into her shoulder. He was mumbling, but his voice sounded much clearer than it had just a little while ago. “So Claire kind of heard me say some shit while I was locked in the walk-in. Yeah, I thought I was talking to Tina, but I guess Tina left? And I’m paraphrasing but I am pretty sure I told her she wasn’t worth all of this time? Pretty sure we’re broken up. So. Yeah. Please don’t fucking call her, Syd.” Carmy dragged his hands through his hair, which at this point made little to no difference. His hair was already wild after his jaunt in the walk-in.

Syd didn’t know what to say, because she had never known how to feel about Claire in the first place. Claire was fine? Perfect on paper, but not for Carmy. “Syd?” Carmy had apparently asked her a question. “Sorry,” Syd replied, “Are you okay? Uh.. fuck, you’ve had a bad night. I guess you were under a lot of pressure though. If you say you’re sorry and you didn’t mean it, I’m sure she’ll understand.” Syd believed this to be true while wanting it not to be true at the same time. She had that odd feeling of missing a step while walking down the stairs deep in her belly.

Carmy’s nose felt like ice against where it was wedged against her shoulder. “Look, I feel bad about how I said it, but I’m also relieved.” She could feel him smile slightly, the first bit of life she’d seen from him since the walk-in had been cut open. “I always really liked her, you know? And when we started hanging out, it was cool. But she got to see me when I was ok. I don’t think she ever saw that side of me, where I get angry or anxious or throw up or just guzzle Tums. For a while, I thought it was fine. But it’s not. And she reminds me of being a little kid. And like of how I was in high school. And that’s not her fault, I know. But I can’t be with her.” He sighed. “I’m not explaining it well at all, I know. But I’m glad it’s you here and not anyone else. I don’t think I could take it.” Sydney nodded, understanding immediately. “I get it,” she murmured softly.

She looked down and saw that her hand was lightly rubbing his back. His very naked, very muscular back. She felt the heat radiate from her cheeks, down through her arms and legs, and into the sheets. She was very, very thankful that Carmy was still out of it. Too out of it to notice that she was losing her damn mind. As her hands slowly rubbed up and down, she felt Carmy’s muscles relax bit by bit. He even felt a bit warmer now. Still fucking cold, but she didn’t think he needed the hospital anymore. He felt like he’d just come in from playing in the snow. The mental image of Carmy as a boy, coming inside from building a snowman, appeared in her mind’s eye. She had to bite down a smile.

“What?” whispered Carmy softly. “What made you smile just now? Where did you go?” Syd just shook her head. “It’s too embarrassing,” she admitted. “I’m sure it’s definitely more fucking embarrassing than what I’ve experienced tonight,” he deadpanned. She chuckled as he cracked a grin. “I was just thinking that now you don’t feel like ice anymore, and then I thought that now you feel like you’re just cold from playing outside. Like kids do after it snows.” Carmy pulled back to look at her. “Do you think we’d have been friends if we’d known each other back then?” he asked. “I don’t know,” answered Syd truthfully, staring up at the ceiling. “I was a major nerd. And I was also a lot younger than you. Four years was a big difference back then. That’s like ten years in kid years.”

Carmy stared at her. “Four years isn’t much anymore, though,” he breathed. ‘Fuck,’ thought Sydney desperately. ‘Don’t look at me like that with those eyes.” He scrunched up his blue eyes. “What do you mean?” He asked. “Oh, fuck. Did I say that out loud?” She laughed nervously. “Syd,” he stared at her as he shifted a bit closer to her. “What do you mean?” he repeated softly. There was no judgment in his eyes. He just wanted to understand.

“Jesus Christ, Carmy, you have to know that your blue eyes are enough to stop traffic. People in small villages would probably have a parade to celebrate that shit.” She shut her eyes tight and waited him out. She slowly opened one eye. Yep, still staring at her. He was smiling at her sadly. “I don’t think anyone is gonna throw a parade for me any time soon, “he replied. “But they definitely would for you.” She wrinkled up her face as though she had swallowed a mouthful of vinegar.

“Syd, you’re worse at taking a compliment than I am, fuck. You don’t see it, but you’re everything. Everyone loves you, you’re incredibly talented, and you- yeah, you’re just everything,” he sighed. “I don’t deserve you,” he says as he pushed a stray braid out of her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Syd,” he repeated.

Syd suddenly couldn’t think of anything to say, and her mouth was dry. As Carmy gazed into her eyes, she felt herself on the edge of something, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to go over. Trying to hang onto some semblance of normalcy, she squeezed his shoulder in reply. Carmy, whose arms had until now been resting at his sides, reached up to wrap an arm around her waist. She felt her skin warm at his touch, which was weird, right? The heat wasn't coming from his body; that was for sure. Was she freaking out? Was she breathing weirdly? Could he tell? Oh God. He seemed so calm, and she was losing her mind. Apparently not noticing her awkwardness, Carmy moved closer. She could feel his soft curls touching her cheek. She could feel his chest pressed into hers, soft and reassuring. He even smelled? Cold, somehow?

“Syd? This is really nice,” he whispered, stroking her back. “Carmy, why does your breath smell like spices?” Sydney couldn’t help but giggle. Carmy should smell like cigarettes and soap, and she finds the difference strange. “I was hitting the walk-in door, you know?” Carmy said softly, “And I accidentally knocked over a container of cloves. Luckily it was almost empty, but I got a fucking mouthful. It was intense.” He was staring at her again. She felt the places where his fingers touched her burn with electricity.

“I like cloves,” Syd said stupidly. Her cheeks started burning, and she groaned. “Don’t listen to me,” she murmured. “I’m fucking delirious.” She chanced another look at Carmy. Yep, still staring. “Syd,” he said quietly. “Look at me.” She forced herself to meet his gaze. She caught him looking at her mouth. He quickly looked up and had the decency to apologize with a look. He slowly brought a hand up to her cheek, feeling her soft skin. “Do you- can I-“ his words were cut off as Sydney suddenly sat straight up in his bed, causing his arms to fall away from her. “Carmy,” Syd breathed, “I.. I just can’t. I don’t know how to do this. After everything tonight- and Claire- and you probably had hypothermia just now- it’s a lot.” Carmy squeezed her hand in understanding. “Syd, I get it. I’m sorry. I should not have put you in this position tonight.”

Syd smiled sadly, her dark eyes wide. “But Carmy? I liked this. You know, except for the part where I had to basically carry you up the stairs. And the whole me worrying about you having hypothermia part? So ok now that I’m hearing myself a lot of it actually sucked? But also I got to see at least 17 tattoos I’ve never seen before, and I’m also not saying no, OK? I just think we need some time.” She got up then to stop vomiting out words. Carmy rolled out of bed too, swaying slightly as he stood. He put his arms around her in a tight hug. She leaned her slender body into him for a second, forgetting everything she’d just said. “Text me when you’re home safe?” he asked. His eyes smoldered. Syd was pretty sure she had never smoldered at anyone. “Yeah,” Sydney said unevenly. She somehow turned around and walked to the door without passing out. As she closed the door, she saw him, still staring at her. And “Jesus Christ, fuck me,” she thought. “Those abs. Will I see those abs again?”

As she walked towards the train, she looked at her phone and saw several messages and missed calls from Nat, each one more frantic than the last. She called her immediately, explaining that she had stayed with Carmy until he warmed up. She mentioned making the tea and helping him change his clothes, but she left out the rest. Natalie thanked her profusely before hanging up. Eyebrows raised, Syd threw her hands up as she walked. Being a human was so confusing sometimes.

[socialoutsiderwritings]

Always, Only. You 30.2

Talia had taken Y/N in to her pack after your parents and their pack  were brutally murdered. For years she trained and learned under Talia alongside Derek , Laura and Cora. One night Talia tells you along with Derek that you two have to imprint on each other , to become each other’s mates. Your connection to Derek has always been stronger than his to you. So after the fire it killed you to be away from him , but you had to do it for your own survival. 7 years after the fact , you return home. Back to Beacon Hills. But the Derek you return to is not the same Derek you know. Will Y/N ever get Derek to accept the fact they are meant to be together?

Pairings: Derek Hale x Reader.

TW: Mentions of pregnancy.

A/N: As per the trigger warning, this chapter will only mention pregnancy/motherhood. Don't be alarmed, reader will not be getting pregnant in this series. I know not everyone is in to that.

Derek's Loft

Derek sat hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees and his phone in a near death grip in his hands. Since the night you left unexpectedly, he's had this strange feeling in his chest. But he didn't want to accept it. There was no way he could.

Derek lifted his head up at the sound of footsteps and saw Cora descending the spiral staircase. She made eye contact with Derek, and by the look on his face and the phone in his hands she knew it had something to do with you.

She didn’t say anything to him, just smiled awkwardly. She was afraid if he started a conversation about you, somehow she’d unintentionally slip if she tried lying. She was never good at lying.

He watched her as she grabbed her jacket from the couch. "Are you going somewhere?" He asked suddenly.

"Yeah." She nodded, avoiding Derek’s gaze. "Isaac, Erica and I are going to the movies." Surprisingly her heart remained calm as she delivered her line. Erica had bought the tickets to a random movie in case he didn't believe her; which she grabbed from the jacket pocket and waved to Derek.

"I don’t know, Cora.” Derek said uncertain. “It’s not safe for you out there.”

Cora rolled her eyes. “I’m already marked. It’s been a couple nights and they haven’t come back here. I won’t be alone either.”

“We don’t know who the Nogitsune is. Where it is or what it even wants. You’re not going.” He stood up from his spot.

“You can’t keep me here, Derek. I feel like…” she inhaled a breath, worried about the effect her words would have on her brother, “a caged animal.” She finished. She looked to Derek this time, an apologetic expression on her face but also the anger in her eyes seemed she wasn’t too sorry for her words.

Derek remained stoic. He folded his arms across his chest, “I’m sorry you feel that way, Cora.” He said with no remorse. “But I’m not keeping you prisoner here, you’re allowed to leave whenever and wherever you want,” he approached her as he spoke until he was close, “except at night.”

“Fine.” She huffed. “I’ll be back before night fall.” She turned on her heel to leave, only to be stopped by Derek again.

“Forgetting something?”

She looked over her shoulder at him. He was holding her phone up in his hand. “I need you to be able to reach me in case something happens.”

Cora snatched her phone from him. “We’re just going to the movies.”

“Right,” he said as he dug into the back pocket of his jeans. He counted the cash he had in his wallet and held it out for his sister, “here. Have fun.” He smiled.

Cora eyes her brother quizzically before grabbing the money from his hand and saying good bye.

“You know, she’s lying to you.” Peter chimed.

Derek exhaled a breath through his nose at the first note of his uncle’s voice, but his gaze remained on the loft door, where Cora had just left. “I know. That’s why I had her take her phone. I can track her.”

“You’re not going to follow her?” Peter could be heard moving from his spot somewhere behind Derek. “You are learning something.” He was right beside Derek now.

“I didn’t say that.” Derek replied now turning to look at his uncle. “I’ll track her and see where she’s stopped. Then I’ll go.”

“You never learn.” Peter rolled his eyes and shook his head simultaneously as he turned and made his way back to where he was previously.

“You heard Araya. They’re looking for her. She had two betas with her. What if she’s building a pack to take on the hunters? More people are just going to get hurt.”

“Come on, Derek.” Peter groaned. He plopped down on the sofa, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “She’s not like that. Whatever she’s doing with those betas have nothing to do with the hunters.”

Derek scrunched his brows. What his uncle said rang true. He knows you don’t care about power, never have. And he’s seen how you were with the other betas, you’d do anything to protect them even if it meant distancing yourself. So why was the fact that you had two other betas with you causing him so much unrest? Anger even?

“You think you know her so well." Derek scoffed. "You’re not worried so long as you get to use her for whatever you need from my mom’s claws.”

Peter looked at his nephew with irritated disbelief.

“I’m right.” Derek grumbled as he turned away from his uncle. “That’s why you don’t leave my loft, in case she comes back.”

“Wrong.” Peter could be heard getting up from his spot. “I come here to check on you guys. Granted you both hate me and don’t trust me,” he raised his hands, “you are still the only family I have left. Including her." A beat.

“Word of advice, nephew. If a girl gives you the best night of your life, and then disappears on you, that means it’s over.”

Derek furrowed his brows in confusion. “Over? What do you mean over?” He scoffed, turning to face his uncle.

Peter was already walking towards his nephew, “you’re screwed.” He patted Derek’s shoulder as he walked passed Derek.

Derek flinched at his uncle’s words. He turned again in his uncle’s direction but Peter was already out the loft door.

—————————— 🐾——————————

Derek was laying across from you, facing you. He had a hand on your cheek, his thumb softly caressing your skin as he looked into your eyes lovingly.

You were both underneath his silk blue covers, and by the light peeking through the thin fabric, it was morning.

“We should get up.” You whispered to him.

“No,” he whispered back, “let’s stay here.” He scooted closer as he snuggled his face into your neck.

“Derek.” You giggled. “It’s daytime. We can’t stay in bed all day.”

“Who says we can’t. Hmm?” He pressed a few kisses to your neck.

“What about the kids?”

"School." He muttered.

You sighed in content, wrapping your arms around him as he moved to position himself in between your legs and hover over you. He lifted your shirt over your breasts and kissed down your torso. In a strange event, the covers were pulled off of you, starling you.

You were shocked to notice you weren't neither in the penthouse or the loft. But the old Hale house; before it was burned up in flames.

"Stop." you pushed Derek away and wiggled into a sitting up position. "What are we doing here?"

"What do you mean?" Derek sat up as well. "We bought the place? And rebuilt it. For us." He explained.

Somehow that was enough for you. You smiled at him and grabbed him by the back of his neck to pull him closer to you. Derek smiled as he allowed himself to be controlled and placed his hand son your hips. He closed his eyes, ready to plant his lips on yours.

You slowly closed your eyes, and before your lips could meet, a terrifying banging came from the bedroom door. Derek whipped his head towards the direction. You slowly brought one of your legs over the side of the bed, ready to stand on your feet.

Derek noticed and was quick to get up off the bed first. "Wait." He stopped you. "It was just the wind."

"The wind?" You questioned. You paused a moment now. Something did not seem right. "No," you stood away from the bed now, "I think theres someone out there."

"Baby," Derek grabbed your hands, "no one. It's just you and me." He kissed you again, turning you to lay you back down on the bed. You were enjoying yourself until the banging on the door returned.

"What the hell." You pushed Derek off of you again. And this time instead of waiting for it again you stormed towards the bedroom door.

Derek grabbed your wrist. "Stop. Don't go out there." He warned.

The banging returned, accompanied by screaming and smoke emitting from the cracks of the door.

"What?"

Derek tugged you back. "We have to leave." He tugged again, "we'll die if we try to save them."

You could make out Cora and Isaac's voice coming from the other side of the door. Along with the others.

"Sweetheart," Derek tugged again.

'No." You tugged back. "We can save them, Derek."

"If we save them," he faces you, "what happens to them?"

You stared at him quizzically. It was then when a baby's cry erupted from behind him. You looked over his shoulder, shocked. There was another door behind him, surely where the cries were coming from.

"We can't save them. But we can save ourselves and start over. Just like you want."

Behind you, the kids continued to scream your name, begging for your help. And behind Derek the baby's cry only grew louder.

You stared Derek in the eyes, "how do you know thats what I want?" You asked him. "How do I know thats what you want?"

"What do you mean?" He asked, almost as if he were getting angry. "This is what you wanted."

"No," you shook your head. "I dont think I want that. Not like this." You snatched your hand out of Derek's grasp. You turned on your heel and began walking towards the door where the kids screamed out for your help.

Your heart was racing in your chest. You were terrified. Of what? You weren't sure yet. But whatever was happening here, it was wrong.

Derek yelled out your name loudly. But you ignored him, gripping the handle of the door, fighting through the burning sensation, and turning the knob to open the door.

*********

You gasped for air, as you lunged forward in a coughing fit. There was something lodged in your throat and you used all the force in your chest to get it out.

You wheezed, feeling some kind of hard object slowly creepy up your throat. You forced your mouth open wider as you dug with your index finger and thumb for the object.

You coughed, removing the object from your throat. You examine the foreign object in between your fingers with disgust. It was dead, for sure.

—————————— 🐾——————————

"Gross." Isaac mused as he stared at the dead fly in the closed mason jar. "You swallowed that?" He asked you.

"If I did, I don't remember." You rolled your eyes. "I was having a pretty weird dream and....I was choking on this when I woke up. I want to know if this has anything to do with the nogitsune."

The betas stared at each other worriedly.

"What?"

Erica spoke up this time, "do you think...it was Stiles?"

"I don't know. I can't smell anything." you admitted. "I couldn't even hear you three coming."

Cora then scooted forward and grabbed the jar from your hands.

"We'll take this to him. But first you have to tell me whats going on between you and Derek. I dont like lying to him."

"I don't mind lying to him." Isaac shrugged.

Erica rolled her eyes, and the two girls both smacked his arms.

"What?" Isaac rubbed his arms.

"I know. After this, you don't have to come see me anymore if you don't want. I won't make you choose between me and Derek."

"But--,"

"I don't get it," Isaac interrupted, "I thought you and the animal doctor were friends. Why are you asking us to take this to him?"

"It's better you don't know." You tell him. "He knows. And I know he will help to make up for it." You sat up and inhaled a deep breath. "I also have one more favor to ask of you guys."

You knocked on Brett's bedroom door. He cracked open the door, pulling out an earbud. You stared him up and down, nonchalantly, "put a shirt on and come out to the den. And bring your sister."

Brett and Lori shortly appeared in the den, staring at the other three curiously.

"Brett, Lori," you pointed, "meet Cora, Erica and Isaac. Isaac, Cora, Erica, meet Brett and Lori." you introduced.

They only stared at each other and lastly at you. You could feel the judgement behind their stares and waved your hands in the air. "anyway," you began, "you two, will be going with them to meet an old acquaintance. Tell him you're looking for Satomi and he'll help you find her."

"What?" Brett asked. "You're kicking us out?"

"No?'' You folded your arms, now feeling awkward at the tension you were under. Cora stared at Brett angrily. "I'm just helping you. I know you want to go home and I don't know where to start to help you get there. He does."

"Right." He scoffed.

Cora got up on her feet, "what the hell is your problem?" she stormed up to him.

"What the hell is yours?" He retorted, puffing his chest out and staring down at her. Lori grabbed his arms pulling him back, while Erica grabbed Cora.

You sighed, rolling your eyes. "Stop." You told them. "Go or don't." You told Brett. "But just know, helping you find Satomi is at the bottom of my to do list right now. Can you deal with that?"

He clenched his jaw, then looked down at his sister. He thought a moment before nodding.

"Great." You clapped your hands together. "Let's get used to each other, huh." You forced a smiled at the young teens.

Isaac, Brett and Cora scoffed and turned away from each other. Erica and Lori were the only two who approached each other.

"This is gonna be ok." You told yourself.