#There are a couple I like that I sorta see more of but for the most part I'm flexible | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

a-mint-bear · 3 months ago

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Comfort Object

Male Yandere x Reader

You see a really weird "job" post online, and the money seems too good to be true. But you aren't really in a position where you can turn it down...

You hope it doesn't get weird.

Parts: [ x / 2 / 3 ]

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It was a very… concerning “job” posting.

But desperate times, and all that.

It had shown up about a week ago, and it wasn’t hard to see why no one had taken the poster up on it as of yet.

Bedmate Needed

● 11 pm to 6 am

● $25/hour up front

● Riverside Motel

● Room 44

● Not a sex thing

The last note seemed tacked on in a later edit, but it was still… not great.

You’d have to be either a gullible idiot or a desperate one to go for a job like this. Unfortunately, you were the latter. Very much so.

You couldn’t take another night on the street. It was getting so cold out. The promise of a warm bed was almost enough to lure you in on its own. But the money… 175 bucks just to sleep in the same bed as some internet creep?

Despite the clarification in the post, this had to be a sex thing, right?

You hadn’t gone that far, despite everything. It’s not like you hadn’t considered it… but the thought was too terrifying. Making yourself completely vulnerable to a stranger that could just decide you were less than a person and do whatever they wanted to you? You had to draw the line somewhere.

But at this point, you weren’t sure that there was a line you weren’t willing to cross anymore.

. . .

The Motel wasn’t the seediest you’d ever seen around town but it wasn’t a place you would’ve voluntarily stayed at even two months ago. Back when you had options.

Creepy post guy opened the door after a couple of knocks, with an awkward, pregnant pause between them. He wasn’t quite what you expected for an internet creep, but he was still a sight to see.

Really bad posture and dark, greasy-looking hair, with the darkest circles under his eyes you’d ever seen. He looked like he was about to pass out at any second, but he held it together long enough to gesture you into the room.

“Hey…” His voice was low but he sounded nervous. And so, so tired. “You’re… You’re a little early. That’s…that’s fine. Uh, come in.”

You felt his eyes on you as you passed him, and it didn’t help your anxiousness. Not one bit.

“Hey so, I-I really…I uh, need a shower.” He stumbled over his words with a breathy, nervous laugh. “Unless you wanna sleep next to a… fuckin’ sweaty mess all night. Do you wanna go first or…?”

You must’ve looked nervous because his eyes went wider, digging into his pocket.

“I wasn’t tryin’ to… Oh, uh…here.” He nodded, pressing the money into your hand. “Up front, just… just like I said. You just…just seemed like you maybe sorta needed one too.”

Some part of you must’ve still had an ounce of pride left because your whole body felt on fire with shame, embarrassment so consuming that you froze up. It had been a couple of days…

He just looked away, seeming like he was embarrassed himself.

“I w-wasn’t gonna like… try to join you or peep on you or nothin’!” He tried to assure you, eyes darting in a panic and talking a bit too fast. “If I, like, go first? I won’t get mad if you change your mind and leave… I get it. I’m not gonna like… go after you or call the cops or nothin’ like that. I just…”

He stared at the floor, nails digging into his arm as he seemed like he was having trouble breathing.

“I really… I really need this.” He was so quiet, but his voice was so desperate.

You couldn’t really be considering this, could you?

He seemed more like a weird, awkward, sad guy than a real danger or some kind of pervert.

And you really did need a hot shower.

It seemed like a safer bet to have him go first, if you were really going through with this. And it would give you a chance to look around the room for a spot to tuck away your pocket knife, just in case.

When he was in the shower, you did just that. The spot between the mattress and bed frame would be easy to grab at if things got hinky.

If things got all touchy-feely, as you suspected they would, him finding that on you or leaving it in your pocket when your clothes got tossed wherever would be really inconvenient.

Steam rolled out of the bathroom when he stepped out, shirtless but with sweatpants and a towel around his neck. He was thin, almost alarmingly so, but you could still see muscle, enough to pose a problem should he decide to overpower you.

This was your last chance to back out, before you’d be vulnerable to this odd stranger.

But even if you left, the money wouldn’t last long, and it’s not like you had any other options.

You were so grateful that the motel tub wasn’t disgusting, but you would’ve gotten clean regardless. Two days worth of sweat and funk was washed away and it felt so heavenly… But it was hard to relax when you were trying to stay hyper alert of any noise that could be that man trying to get in or even eavesdrop.

But…

Nothing.

You finished your shower and brushed your teeth, doing everything you could to feel clean that a motel bathroom could provide. And there was no sign of the guy.

But you had to go back out there eventually. You supposed you could lock yourself in here and get a full night’s sleep indoors, even if it was on the floor of a motel bathroom with your back against the door, but part of you just said “fuck it” and warily peeked around the doorway into the bedroom.

The lights in the room were dim, but warm. He was sitting on the end of the bed, one knee tucked into his chest, staring at the tv as the bright colors of a nightly talk show reflected in his eyes, but something told you he wasn’t really watching. His eyes met yours and you froze.

“It’s almost eleven…” He mumbled, his head resting awkwardly on his shoulder. His hand ghosted over the spot on the bed next to him. “… Will... will you stay?”

So many thoughts raced through your head. What would happen if you laid down beside him? You could probably deal with sex… even if it felt a bit wrong. But if he wanted to hurt you?

Your brain reminded you:

What do you really have to lose?

When you told him you would stay, sitting next to him, you could see him relax. Just a bit.

“If you still want to leave-”

But you cut him off, almost afraid he would talk you out of it after you’d made up your mind.

Avoiding his stare, you told him you had nowhere to go.

The bed was cold, it might take a bit to warm up with the two of you in it, but it was the least of your concerns at that moment.

“So it’s...” He’d spoken up so suddenly, you hoped he didn’t see you flinch. He was staring at the ceiling, seeming just a tiny bit calmer. “... it’s fine if you just… lay there or h-hold onto me, or play on your phone or whatever, anything is fine. Just… just don’t leave ‘til mornin’. Okay?”

A worrying pause, but you told him you understood.

And that was that. He laid next to you unmoving for almost an hour before you had the nerve to move at all, shifting slowly to your side to face him.

His eyes were shut, his breathing even, but somehow you knew he was still awake. It was like he was trying to sleep but it just wasn’t coming to him. He looked so worn down, like he could just keel over any second. It definitely made him less intimidating, but you weren’t letting your guard down, no matter how much your body was screaming at you to just let go.

Despite your better judgement, you wondered if he really was being genuine about this not being a sex thing. It was a relief, sure, but it just raised more questions.

Why were you here?

. . .

You’d stopped looking at the bedside clock a while ago. It had to have been hours by then.

Your anxiety and dread somehow felt quieter under the lull of impending sleep. Despite everything, your body was at least grateful for a warm bed and hot shower, and if you didn’t sleep there now, you didn’t know when you’d be able to sleep somewhere warm any time soon.

Every moment that ticked by, you felt your resolve slipping. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, just to let go… This whole situation was weird, but you just wanted to sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He hoped against everything that he would just fall asleep.

Just this once, he didn’t want to have to follow through with it. But he was so damn tired. There was this ache behind his eyes that he could feel in his bones, his mind never stopped racing…

He could feel your body heat in the bed next to him. You had either been very scared or very considerate, you’d only moved once since you laid down with him.

He hated that he had to do this. He felt sorry for you, he really did. But it was drowned out by the buzzing in the back of his brain. The constant whispers in his ear.

There had been so many before now, it was a miracle he hadn’t gotten caught. But this was a huge, dangerous city. Everyone in it was just a blip to anyone paying attention.

He could feel their skin under his palms buzzing at the back of his brain. How their eyes stared into his, burning with betrayal, fear, helplessness. How he saw them fade away.

How it was the only thing that worked to let him finally sleep. The only thing that quieted the whispers, at least for a little bit.

Some booked it after getting the money. Some just showed up and straight-up robbed him. Some tried to leave in the middle of the night, thinking he was asleep. But if they stayed and fell asleep, that was that.

He told himself that he gave them all a chance.

If you managed to stay up all night, you’d be safe. But he really needed this… It was already day three, and he’d never made it past day five without completely losing it. Trying to fight this, it was too hard. The longer he stayed awake, trying to avoid what had to happen, the worse he felt. The louder the voice got. The deeper the ache in his bones. But the more often he did it, the easier it got. And that was worse in a different way.

It was wrong. He wasn’t so deep in it that he couldn’t see that. The morning after, he always hated himself and what he did.

But as the days went on, it would all creep back in. And doing it again felt less and less horrifying to him.

You were scared. He could tell. And you had every reason to be, he told himself. But it just meant it would take you longer to fall asleep.

He could wait all night. And if you made it the full seven hours, you weren’t what he needed. You’d be free from him, from this. Hopefully you wouldn’t come back, no matter how badly you needed the money.

He wondered what you meant by having nowhere to go.

But he tried not to wonder too much. It would make this harder.

He could hear your breathing getting slower, your body relaxing into the bed. You wouldn’t last much longer.

His eyes shot open when he felt you suddenly touch him, tucking your forehead into his shoulder. You weren’t quite asleep, a cuddler? He almost laughed to himself when half-asleep you looked a bit frustrated, like it wasn’t enough.

You muttered something about being cold, lazily scooting your body closer to him up the bed. He felt his breath catch when suddenly, his head was pulled to you, tucked into your chest as your arm circled him. He was suddenly the little spoon, but facing you. He could hear your heartbeat.

He wanted to say something, wake you up or wriggle free to make what he had to do easier on you when you fell asleep. He felt a hand in his hair, playing with it and idle gentle nails on his scalp.

It was… nice. Everything felt calm, the buzzing and horrible thoughts were still there but they were being drowned out by the warmth of your skin, the thump of your heart in his ear.

You were mumbling something. He held his breath, trying to hear.

You told him, or whoever you were dreaming about, maybe even no one at all, that he was okay. That he was safe.

He couldn’t keep his eyes open. Something was different this time. He felt all his control slipping away, and for once, he wasn’t scared.

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You woke to a sunbeam across your face, and the strange man in your arms, sound asleep. According to your phone, it was 10 am. You were grateful for the extra hours in a warm bed, but would he be mad? Did he have somewhere to be?

You couldn’t remember anything past drifting off next to him, but the two of you were tangled together, he seemed so comfortable.

Now that it was over, and your anxieties were much quieter, you really got a good look at the guy. He wasn’t… unattractive, you supposed. He was all elbows and ribs but laying against your chest made him look so soft and harmless.

Wasn’t the worst way you’d ever made 175 bucks.

You wondered if he’d shell out the extra 100, or if that would be pushing your luck.

Either way, it would be best to wake him up.

Gently scratching at his scalp, you told him it was getting late.

You watched as his eyes struggled to open, and for a few calm moments, he just laid against you. After a beat, he gasped and jolted up, head swiveling around the room in a panic.

“I…” He seemed really out of it, almost scared. “I actually…”

He stared at you, eyes wide. You told him it was ten in the morning, hoping everything was okay and if it wasn’t, that he wouldn’t take it out on you.

He grabbed you by the shoulders, and for a moment you were sure something bad was going to happen, but somehow, it was even worse.

He was crying.

Breaking down, sobbing hard as he just kept staring at you. Even with the odd night you’d just had, this was somehow the weirdest part.

Despite yourself, you asked him if he was okay. He pulled himself together and you were startled again when he touched your face, his thumb gently grazing your cheek. It was tender and sweet, and it was freaking you out a little. Just a tad.

“You… It was you…”

All you could think to ask was if you should get going, maybe trying to make it seem like you had someplace to be, or were at least trying to be considerate of his time. But it didn’t seem like he was taking the hint.

He grabbed your hands in his, the sudden contact made you jump. He pulled them to his chest, he was too close. The way he was looking at you…

“Can we… Can we do this again? Like tonight? Please?” He was practically begging, the look in his eyes changing. That nervous, achingly tired gaze was hopeful. And so warm.

“You can have the room, if that’s what you need!” he offered, maybe somehow having picked up on your current situation. “I can pay more too. Just p-please…”

He held your palm to his cheek, staring up at you.

“I need you.”

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a bit of a different one from me, but i kind of liked how it turned out

that feeling when your new yandere was totally gonna off you but you were just too comfy

he's never gonna let you go. you're the only thing keepin him from killing again, ya know?

i don't have a ton of yanderes that actually kill, as odd as that seems. but this guy is one of them

he's not supposed to be a huge commentary on any particular mental health conditions, i did a bit of "research" into psychosis induced insomnia (using that term VERY loosely), but like does he hear voices because he can't sleep, or can he not sleep because he hears voices? who can say? certainly not I, the dummy who made him

i wrote this one pretty much right after my last big deadline ended, but it got reworked a bit cause it just needed some tweaks:

the yandere started out as tired but crass, kind of a dick, and when he switched after that good night's sleep it felt off. It felt more interesting if he was a bit pathetic and creepy, it felt like less of a red flag for the reader to stick around

the reader was originally going to be a straight up s*x worker that got hired by the yandere for him to kill, but it didn't really feel like my place to make that commentary on violence against s*x workers or to more or less soften it with a yandere love interest. it just didn't feel right for something so unserious

but ive been having horrible writer's block lately, so i thought i'd finally put this one out. i need to read/play some yandere stuff and get inspired. let me know if you have any recommendations y'all ✌️

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thinkinonsense · 7 months ago

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Sit Still｡𖦹°‧

—gif credit: not mine!! i can't remember where i found it but if i can find it again or the owner comments, ill add their username <3

logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: cockwarming (sorta?), innocence kink, p in v, logan attempts to teach reader how to ride.

a/n: apologies for this being so short but chapter two of bewitched should be out friday or saturday! also i'll be responding to some requests soon too in case i spam lmao

"a-are you sure 'bout this, lo?"

your timid voice echos around the bedroom, capturing logan's attention again. he's been dreaming for months of this sight in front of him; you sitting pretty in his lap, only wearing a pink lacy bra and a pair of matching panties.

"you want me to make you feel good, right sweetheart?"

a small sigh escapes you as you attempt to grind onto him again. logan places his large hands on your waist to stop you from wiggling around. he knows you can't help it, you're still new to this after all.

it started a month ago when you and logan were left alone together in the mansion. everyone was on a field trip a couple hours away. you were recovering from a cold and logan simply didn't want to chaperone. instead, he offered to stay back with you.

late one evening, he came in to check on you and ask if there was anything you needed. that's when you asked him the question that nearly killed him, 'will you take my virginity?' you didn't see a problem with it. the two of you weren't strangers, you trusted logan, and he obviously has experience since he's much older than you.

ever since that night, you two have been going at it like rabbits. tonight, logan promised to help you get used to being on top. more importantly, training you to take him from this angle.

"c'mon, baby..." he coos with one hand on your hip and the other holding a cigar to his lips. "do it just like i told ya'."

swiftly, logan removes the rest of the material between the two of you before resting back against the mattress. anxiously, you line him up to your entrance and slowly sink down until you're sat fully on his lap again.

"nice 'n slow for me, sweetheart. that's it, stay still..." logan hums, lost in your tight, wet heat. he can hear every little noise coming from your lips. "atta girl."

it's a struggle to take all of him at once. you can feel him deep in your gut, nudging that sweet spot inside of you. logan can tell that your nerves are still tangled in knots, practically strangling his cock.

"lo, i c-can't do it." you huff, upset at yourself. "too full to move."

"poor fuckin' baby." logan teases with faux sympathy. "how 'bout we try something else for now?"

too caught up with the soft grind of his hips, you nod your head mindlessly to his proposal. logan brings his thumb to his lips, replacing the cigar which is now back on the nightstand. he sits up, making you whimper as he does so. you lean forward to capture his lips with your own, whispering how badly you needed him to just fuck you himself. instead, logan's got something else in mind.

"ah!" you gasp as he starts to rub your button with the wet pad of thumb. "f-fuck, right there..."

the soft rocking of your hips makes your toes curl and fingers pull at his little kitten tuffs. logan's mouth moves south to your chest. one nipple in his mouth then the other until both are swollen and kiss bitten. vibrations pour from his mouth as he groans at the tight squeezing of your cunt around his girth.

"ah-ah." he tsks, hand coming up to grip your jaw, pinching your cheeks together gently. "what did i say 'bout staying still?"

"s-sorry, lo.." you whimper voice muffled by your squished pouty lips.

despite having incredible stamina, logan was ready to release just from looking at your pretty face. he never been this close to cumming so soon but feeling you tense around him and wiggle in his lap made his head spin. all of this movement from only his thumb drawing circles.

"christ..." he grunts in your ear, moving faster now and with more pressure. "you're tryin' a kill me, sweetheart."

all logan gets in response is incoherent babbles of 'don't stop' and 'please, please, please'. he knows you are close when you claw at his back and start to bounce on him little by little, just enough to make you see stars. it all feels too much yet not enough at the same time. logan's circles start to get sloppy as he approaches his high too.

"l-logan!" you squeal, heavy eyes trying to focus on his face. "wanna feel you..."

in a rush, logan picks up the pace, torturing your button with his thumb. a loud moan falls from your lips, trying to wiggle out of logan's grip as your orgasm washes over you with intense euphoria. logan growls in your neck from your tight fucking grip on his cock, pumping his load inside of your walls. some of it spilling out of you and drenching the sheets.

the two of you catch your breath in silence for a moment. your nails scratch his scalp softly while logan pulls you down to kiss him. after a second, you move back, smiling down at him in a way that makes him harden again.

"thought you were gonna show me how to ride?" you tease.

logan shoots you a cocky eyebrow raise before leaning back again, one hand on your hip and the other returning to his cigar on the night stand.

"alright, baby..." he chuckles, re-lighting the cigar and paying little attention to the roll of your hips. "let me see what you got."

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yanderenightmare · 2 months ago

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♡ TW: nsfw implication, enemies to lovers, kinda bitchy reader,

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about the poor college boy who’s struggling to get used to dorm life and his loud neighbor who isn’t making matters any better.

He has never been shy about telling someone off. People should have the common decency not to blast their infernal music so loud that the entire dorm shakes. And you, whoever you may be, are no exception—he thinks while pounding on your door with his fist. Fuck knows if you can even hear him over your speakers.

But lo and behold and despite all odds, you open up.

“Excuse me, can you turn it down?” His words might be polite, but his voice is anything but—glaring down at you… who quickly turned out to be a girl…

Yeah, definitely not the idiot ass-hat with the shitty body odor he was expecting. But a pretty girl in a short tank top without a bra and booty shorts so tight and short he would think you’d bought them ten years ago.

“It’s eight?” You raise your brow at him, face otherwise dull.

Okay, so you weren't what he was expecting. And sure, it might make his throat a little tight, among other things. But still, he not going to let it change anything.

“Yeah, I’m tryna study.”

That was a lie. He was actually about to go to bed. But he wasn’t about to tell you that. Judging by the way you were looking at him, he’d say you’d just laugh and slam the door in his face. Maybe even turn the volume up to spite him.

Not that telling you he was studying was any better.

“There’s something called a library for that sorta thing,” you drawl.

He’s right—you’re the sardonic type. There’s usually no use fighting with people like you, but still, he must stand his ground and insist, “Yeah, well, I prefer my room.”

You reply in kind, smiling now with a short excuse for a laugh, “Oh, what do you know, me too.”

You’re a little hard to read. That felt like sarcasm, but it wasn’t all that easy to tell. He’s mostly certain you couldn't care less, but at the same time, you’d humored him this long. So, maybe…

“You’ll turn it down then?”

As expected. You just laugh and shut the door in his face.

He stands there for a moment. You must be blowing your eardrums sitting in there. He thinks about knocking again, maybe dropping some of the politeness this time and demanding you turn it down.

But he ends up going back to his room. He decides then to wait another hour, thinking you might come to your senses despite your poor attitude. But at zero point, do you turn your music down by even a single lousy notch.

Lying in his room, he’s hoping someone else might come by and tell you off. That maybe then you’d listen.

But a couple more minutes later, he realizes he can’t wait for that to happen and decides to test his luck again. Abruptly springing from his bed, he marches over to your room. Doing as he did last time, nearly kicking your door in with his banging.

“Oh my god, dude, what is your problem!?” you bark once seeing him.

And his eye nearly twitches in turn. “My problem? Really? You’re one to talk!”

You gape at him, both glaring at the other.

“It’s eight-thirty. What? Is it your bedtime or something?”

“No. But I would appreciate it if I could hear myself think in my own room!”

“Oh? Well, maybe you should call your mommy and cry about it!”

Again, all you do is slam the door in his face. However, this time, you skip the laugh and settle for a simple yet efficient grimace that lets him know you’ll not be answering the door again.

Several days pass. He caved and invested in a pair of noise-canceling headphones. But still, he hadn’t been able to fall asleep when he wanted. But suppose that wasn’t all your fault. To be honest, he’d probably be struggling either way, with or without your music. It’s not easy living in a new place.

It’s lonely, too.

But that can’t be helped. At least not for him. He’s not too good at trying to make friends. And yet, there’s someone at the door.

Three firm knuckle knocks let him know. But who it might be is anyone’s guess. Still, he begrudgingly answers.

“Oh… so this is you, huh…”

It’s you—the hot but nasty girl next door, wearing that same pair of shorts he’s been thinking about every day without wanting to.

You don’t seem too pleased to see him either, even when you’d been the one to knock.

“Ugh…” You look around, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly before gritting your teeth and finally mustering up enough gall to actually spit out what you’d come there for. “You wouldn’t happen to have a screwdriver or something?”

This time, it’s him who raises his eyebrow. “Or something?” he repeats. “What would that be exactly?”

You scoff then, about to leave, grumbling out, “Never mind–” but he interjects before you’re fully turned around.

“Wait there.”

It’s to both of your surprise when he disappears into his room.

He isn’t gone long before he’s back with a screwdriver.

“Here.”

You don’t say anything, just rudely rush to grab it without even looking at him, but when you pull it to yourself, you’re pulled back, stuck to the same spot. He holds onto the other end, looking you right in your shocked eyes.

“You know, it’s customary to say thank you when someone does something for you.”

You look flushed—a little chagrined, maybe—but ultimately, you can’t really argue with it, mumbling out a bitter “Thanks.”

He smiles then, chuckles even. Not nicely. Smugly.

Admittedly, it’s not his best moment, but who can blame him? You haven’t exactly been so nice yourself. Right now, he can tell you almost feel like rejecting his offer altogether, but that refusing at this point would be too petty so you just have to grin and bear it.

It’s actually kind of cute.

“Bring it back once you’re done,” he says, then lets go of you, and off you go, nearly stomping away.

He goes back to studying, shaking his head at you. You can’t have many friends either with that attitude. Suppose you have that in common.

Sometime later there’s a frustrated scream coming from the other room. Then, the sound of a door handle roughly getting yanked, someone storming down the short distance of the corridor before throwing his door open unannounced.

“Your useless screwdriver isn’t doing its stupid job!” you yell in a whine, almost throwing the tool at him where he sits by his desk. It lands in his bed next to him instead.

You look utterly disheveled at this point. Dewy-faced and frustrated, hair a total mess and even hotter still. It’s really unfair. How come a bitchy brat like you looks like that, even when you’re a wreck? It shouldn't be allowed.

“I highly doubt it’s the screwdriver's fault. You positive it’s the useless one?”

This time, you just growl without words before turning on your heel, about to stomp out the same way you’d arrived—but again, he finds himself stopping you for whatever reason he still can’t understand.

“Wait.” He gets up from his chair and picks up the screwdriver you’d chucked. “Le’mme have a look.”

You shake your head with a scoff, “No way. I’m not letting you in my room.”

“You didn’t seem so reserved when you came barging into mine.” Ignoring you, he walks straight past you.

“Wait–” you protest, but he doesn't bother.

He just opens your door and reveals the breakdown you’d had just earlier. Having but one word to ascribe to the scene.

“Wow.”

Suppose you were both in your own right struggling with acclimating to dorm life…

“It’s not my fault I’m not a carpenter or whatever. The instructions said it was simple,” you excuse the mess of planks and screws and bits all belonging to your unassembled wardrobe among all the clothes that are meant to be in it. “They lied.”

He scratches his neck, feeling a little bad for you despite everything. This would take anyone over an hour—probably even more, to be honest. Even if you managed on your own, you’d have a hard time pushing it into place. Not that it’s any of his business. But hey… if he played his cards right, maybe he could get something out of this in the end.

“Alright. I’ll make you a deal,” he says then, folding his arms upon his chest while looking down at you. “I’ll set this up for you.” He leans down, that same smug smile from before plastered on his face as he comes with his condition, “If you promise to lower your music after eight.”

Honestly, with your looks, you could probably knock on just about anyone else's door and ask for their help instead. They probably wouldn’t ask anything in return. But hey, can’t blame a guy for trying.

And to his surprise, you actually seem to think about it. Maybe you’re one of those girls without a clue. You even do this cute thing where you chew your lip in thought, a furrow between your brows.

You look up at him when you’re finished. “Ten.”

You’re bargaining with him now? He was expecting you to say something like fat chance. But no, you’re really that desperate.

He thinks about agreeing but then doesn’t. No, it might be a little scummy of him, but since he’s gotten this far, he might as well keep the act up and stand his ground.

“Eight,” he insists.

And you’re face scrunches as you fold, going down to “Nine.”

But no, following the same logic that had worked for him up until now, he still doesn’t budge. “Eight.”

You purse your lips, and he thinks he’s blown it, that you’re just about ready to bark at him to get the fuck out. But you don’t. Instead, you become even cuter. Giving in with a sigh, “Okay, fine.”

He honestly can’t believe it. Though his face shows no shock, he’s dumbfounded on the inside. He can’t believe that worked. Here’s this chick who all but told him to go fuck himself just a few days ago, now all but begging him for his help. Or no, begging is a strong word, but still.

He has to go back into his room and fetch the rest of his toolbox. Turned out you did need an or-something—a drill. No wonder you weren’t managing. But after a little over an hour of tinkering while you lay on your bed reading a magazine—and at some point asking you if it was okay if he removed his shirt before he died of heatstroke, then bothering you for a drink—it was finally finished.

“Alright, all done.” He announced, and after sliding it into place for you, he clapped his hands together and said, “Ta-dah.”

He then takes a look at his wristwatch, wanting to see how long he’d spent, but comes away with another fun discovery.

“My my, would you look at the time?” he grins again, showing it to you. “Just passed eight.”

It makes him snicker. And not expecting a thank you after that comment, he just gathers his tools and slings his shirt over his shoulder, ready to excuse himself.

“Let me know if you need a cup of sugar, neighbor.”

He’s just about to open the door when you speak up.

“Thanks, but I'm good on sugar, actually.”

Your voice is a little different this time—not annoyed, though not chagrined like earlier either—no, something new. Something that makes him turn around again.

You’ve rolled off the bed, now standing just a short distance away, hips tilted, standing slanted with your arms crossed loosely, wearing those same tight little short shorts he’s never seen you without but could definitely picture on the floor.

Yeah, in his wildest dreams, or so he thought…

“I might need some help breaking in my bed, though, if you’re interested.”

You step closer, sizing him up where he stands, and then you smile, offering him a small coy laugh. “That is, of course, if it’s not already passed your bedtime.”

He swallows thickly—nearly drops the toolbox to the floor but manages to keep his cool, though just barely.

“No, I think I can help you with that.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Touya, Natsuo ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Nanami, Geto, Megumi, Toji ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Kageyama, Kuro, Iwaizumi, Sakusa ♡ CSM – Aki ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin, Sae, Karasu ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi, Genya ♡ WB – Sakura, Kaji

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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okaylikeschaewon · 5 months ago

Text

Hotter-N-Funner

~10k words, Roommates series, smut, Part 1 here

“... part of a punishment.”

“She did what?!” Mint shouted through the door right before a thundering crash echoed in the room.

“Mint? You alright?!” you called out, holding your ear to the door. “Mint?”

“Yeah, all good!” Mint’s disheveled voice came through. After a couple of seconds, he opened the door, rubbing his hip. “I fell.”

“You fell in the toilet?”

“Not in the toilet you idiot,” Mint shoved your shoulder. “So, tell me, how the fuck did you manage that on the first date?”

“A bit of an odd story honestly,” you started.

“How odd could it be?” Mint asked while grabbing a bag of chips off the counter. “Sounds like a simple case of another college hoe being horny.”

“Be nice,” you scolded him. “She’s actually really sweet. No jokes like that when she stops by.”

“She’s coming over?” Mint gasped through a handful of chips. “I can’t even remember the last girl you’ve had over.”

“I mean it,” you snatched the bag out of his hands and took a chip for yourself. “I really like this girl, I want to see where it goes.”

“Do you actually like her or do you just like that she’s hot as fuck?” Mint asked while he took another chip from the bag as you held it out for him. “What about that bartender you’ve been chatting up?”

“I don’t know man. I don’t think she’s actually interested in a serious relationship anyway, even if I did want that. I’m happy just being friends,” you replied. “But back to this girl, seriously, I had such a good time with her. And sure, it helps that she’s hot as fuck.”

“Yeah of course you had a good time with her sucking-”

“Stop it,” you gave Mint’s arm a little shove. “That’s the one part I kinda regret.”

“Regret? The fuck?” Mint cocked his eyebrows. “Head game that weak?”

“No, that definitely wasn’t the problem,” you sighed. “I just like… almost feel like we robbed ourselves of having a really special first time… does that make sense?”

“No.”

“Maybe you’re right,” you mumbled as you picked up a couple of dirty glasses from the table.

“Here,” Mint took the glasses from your hands. “Of course I get what you’re saying, and you already know I support whatever decision you wanna make. Just tell me though, why do you think this girl’s so special already?”

“Well,” you began before pausing to think for a moment. “One could argue the coffee date and even what happened in the bathroom was kinda forced-”

“You don’t say?” Mint dramatically gasped, feigning shock.

“But lunch wasn’t,” you continued, ignoring his theatrics. “And it went fucking perfectly, we just meshed so well, I swear I could talk to her for hours. The vibe, her energy, everything was just so… when I think about her right now, I think about lunch, not the coffee shop.”

“Sounds like my roommate’s in love already,” Mint teased. “Devil’s advocate, she was just using you for the free meal.”

“She paid for it.”

“You let her pay? That’s not like you.”

“Not exactly,” you elaborated. “We were hitting it off pretty well and the idea of me treating her to dinner sorta came up, so she snuck off to the bathroom and did the whole pay behind your back thing.”

“This might be the most unbelievable part of the story,” Mint chuckled. “Why the hell would she do that?”

“Obviously I don’t know for sure, but this is why I’m telling you I feel like there’s something more here,” you explained. “She could have easily done her punishment and then left, or even taken the free lunch and then left, but I think her logic was if I’m treating her to dinner later that she should take care of lunch.”

“Hmm,” Mint pondered for a moment. “Maybe you’re right about there being something here, and maybe she feels the same way. That would explain why she doesn’t want to make it seem like she’s using you for a meal.”

“I hope so, guess I’ll find out more tonight.”

“You like her enough to give up your fuck buddy? I doubt she’d be cool with you having one.”

“Absolutely, even after just one date with her.”

“That’s crazy, you’d actually throw away what you have?”

“I mean, she’s graduating this year anyway, how many more times am I realistically going to fuck her?” you considered your options. “Girl’s a damn genius and beautiful, she’ll be fine without me.”

“You’re losing her roommate, too,” Mint added jokingly.

“Damn,” you muttered under your breath with a smirk, thinking back to some wild nights. “I kinda forgot about that part.”

“Not so easy anymore, is it?” Mint teased.

“It’s fine, seriously Mint, I haven’t felt this way about a girl since Rina,” you replied. “But it’s also way too early, I’ve known this girl for less than a day.”

“What, you haven’t started picking baby names yet?”

“First I have to work on making the babies.”

“I hope she’s good at that part, otherwise you’re throwing away an absolute dime piece for nothing,” Mint laughed.

“Or, hear me out, I just won’t make it official until next year. That way I’m still clear until Sana graduates.”

“You realize half the guys at this school would literally kill to have what you have going on, and you’re here playing games?”

“I had my fun with her, I guess I’ll be doing half the school a favor by moving on.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re an absolute fuckboy?” Mint scoffed. “Sana is not just a toy for you to use.”

“Once or twice, I think,” you chuckled. “What was the first time again? When I brought that one girl back last year?”

“Oh yeah, the one with the massive rack, right? She was so fucking fit, can’t lie, I was pretty jealous of that one.”

“Yeah,” you sighed heavily. “I still think about her to this day. She’s really the one who got away.”

“Maybe if you didn’t decide to fuck her best friend, she wouldn’t have gotten away,” Mint burst out laughing as he snatched the bag of chips back. “Absolute idiot.”

“I was drunk.”

“Not an excuse,” Mint kept laughing.

“She was drunk!”

“Even if we accept that excuse - which we don’t,” Mint began shaking his head. “How do you justify the second time?”

“We were horny,” you shrugged.

“Idiot,” Mint chuckled. “The roommate had a cute smile though, I don’t entirely blame you.”

“Yeah, what was her name again?”

“Bro, you’re the one who slept with her,” Mint shook his head in disbelief, laughing at you. “It started with an ‘N’.”

“‘N”? Shit, I really got nothing.”

“Fuckboy,” Mint sang, before gasping. “Wait, should I be concerned about your roommate fetish?”

“Yeah, lock your door when you sleep,” you said casually while cleaning up some dishes left on the coffee table. “Mind helping me? I don’t want Zuha to get the wrong idea.”

“Fuck, even her name is hot.”

“Idiot,” you tossed an empty can at him.

“I know she’s pretty and all,” Mint began helping you clean up. “But seriously? I can’t remember a single time you’ve cleaned up just for a girl. Now that I think about it, you almost never bring them back to our room.”

“Not almost never. Never, not after Rina,” you replied as you fixed the pillows on the couch. “We have any Febreze left?”

“Yeah, in my room,” Mint answered as he tidied up. “Promise me one thing though.”

“What’s up?” you asked as you walked back into the living room.

“If you’re going into this one with serious intentions, promise me you’ll take it slower this time,” Mint responded. “You know I don’t give a shit what you do with your random hookups, but this isn’t a random hookup.”

“Is this because of Rina?” you asked as you casually sprayed ‘Ocean Mist’ into the air. “I told you, I’m all good with that situation.”

“I know you are,” Mint replied. “It’s just that sometimes when you climb too high too fast, the fall ends up being a lot harder.”

“Alright Socrates, relax.”

“Seriously bro, you know I’m just looking out for you.”

“I know,” you gave Mint a tight hug. “I really appreciate you, thank you.”

“And her name was Nayeon, you idiot.”

—

“Oh,” you gasped, louder than intended, caught off guard by how stunning Kazuha’s figure looked in her skirt and jacket.

“I’m not overdressed am I? I know you mentioned it was a casual place, I can quickly go change if-”

“You look stunning, I love how it brings out your smile.”

“Oh, thank you,” Kazuha turned away slightly, blushing profusely.

It could not be any more obvious that she was nervous.

“Please, come in,” you opened the door wide and stepped aside, a rush of warmth flowing through your body. Kazuha gracefully stepped into your room, leaving you admiring her long, slender legs with each step. She paused ever so slightly as she walked past you before looking around your room. “Have a seat, I’ll be right there.”

Kazuha nodded before stepping across the room and taking a seat on your couch, placing her small black purse on the side table. You quickly stepped into the kitchen and placed two flutes on the counter before filling them generously with champagne and walking over to Kazuha.

“Thank you,” Kazuha respectfully accepted the glass with a warm smile.

“You’re welcome,” you replied, taking a seat next to her.

The two of you took a sip together before placing your glasses to the side. For a moment, she simply stared at you, smiling nervously. Without speaking, you slid your body closer before wrapping your arm around the back of the couch behind Kazuha’s body.

“You smell really nice,” Kazuha commented, leaning forward into you slightly.

“Do I?” you replied, tilting your head slightly.

“Yeah,” she mumbled softly right in front of your lips as she closed her eyes.

The world around you began to gracefully fade away, leaving just you and Kazuha in a shared moment of pure intimacy. Your lips met, gentle at first, a tender brush sending a spark through your body, before gradually becoming more passionate. You found yourself losing yourself in Kazuha’s warmth as your lips pressed deeper against hers.

While the kiss, slow and lingering, continued, your hand found its way to Kazuha’s thigh where it softly pressed against her soft skin. Your other hand fell from the back of the couch to the back of Kazuha’s neck. You savored each moment of closeness, that delightful hint of strawberry inundating your brain with a warm sweetness. Her hand gently made its way to yours, her delicate fingers softly intertwining with your own. The tenderness of your fingers lacing together amplified the connection - invoking a deeper sense of comfort, grounding you in the moment.

Instinctively, your bodies pulled closer, your hand slid down from Kazuha’s neck to the middle of her back, while her arm snaked underneath yours to wrap around your body. The hold you had on each other tightened while remaining tender, a subtle dance of intimacy with your bodies as your mouths stayed glued to each other’s lips.

Finally, the two of you break apart the kiss, breathing heavily into each other’s mouths. No words were shared, just an intense gaze as your eyes locked, turning the connection electric. For just a moment, the silence of your feelings was being taken in, the squeeze of Kazuha’s fingers against your body was all you felt.

Then, suddenly, she let go of your body as both of her hands grabbed your face while her lips collided against yours. Initially, you were pushed back by the sudden fierce urgency, but then with equal hunger and desperation you found your strength - now it was Kazuha’s turn to fall backwards.

The kiss was an overwhelming whirlwind of emotions, blurring your senses until you found yourself with your hands on Kazuha’s hips as her back hit the couch. She spread her legs, making room for you to move even closer as your body nestled into hers, still with electricity and passion flowing through the kiss.

With audacious intrepidity, you slipped a hand up Kazuha’s skirt, resting it against the side of her soft upper thigh. She gasped into your mouth, but she didn’t pull away - in fact, she did the opposite. She curled her fingers into your hair, pulling you even closer somehow, your bodies colliding, a testament to your shared passion, urging you to keep going.

Everything just felt right. This kiss felt right. Kazuha felt right. Your brain was desperately trying to make sense of your heart right now, and you found yourself coming to the conclusion that you wanted, needed, Kazuha. Nothing else made sense, the connection was too compelling. Then, you finally pulled away, leaving Kazuha breathless and wide-eyed, you could really feel the fire that the two of you just shared. Your heart was racing, beating out of your chest as you smiled down at Kazuha who was smiling back.

“I should have asked earlier, but you eat sushi, right?” you asked as you sat back up.

“Of course, I love sushi,” she answered, still breathing heavily.

“Perfect, you’ll love this place,” you replied, helping her sit up by taking her hand. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, one second,” she paused, reaching for her glass of champagne and downing it. “Ready!”

—

“Breakfast, lunch, and dinner, who woulda thought our day would end up like this?” Kazuha smiled as she picked up another piece of otoro.

“Breakfast is a wild thing to say.”

“Oh my God,” Kazuha choked, laughing at your reference once she understood what you meant.

“Sorry, that was probably inappropriate.”

“It’s fine,” she laughed, taking a sip of her sake. “If anything, I’m surprised we’ve almost gotten through two meals without bringing it up.”

“Was I supposed to? I can’t say I’ve ever had an experience like that before,” you chuckled, taking a sip of sake as well.

“Trust me, it was new for me as well,” Kazuha replied. “I’m really enjoying spending the day with you.”

“I want to be completely honest with you, I really like you, a lot,” you started cautiously. “I know it’s super early, but I just feel something so special with you.”

“I really like you a lot, too,” Kazuha smiled warmly, showing you that smile, the one that absolutely melted your heart. “It doesn’t feel like the first day, it feels like we’ve been dating for a while already.”

“In a way, this is sort of the third date.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” she giggled before turning slightly more serious. “So then, can I be honest with you for a second?”

“Of course you can, anything at all,” you replied warmly, leaning forward slightly to show her you were fully engaged.

“I promise it’s not because of attraction, because I really am attracted to you, but I sorta regret what happened in the bathroom this morning.”

“Oh my God, me too!” you couldn’t control your excitement. “Sorry, please finish what you were going to say.”

“It’s just that… it’s going to sound a bit stupid, so please don’t make fun of me for it,” Kazuha began blushing. “I almost feel like I ruined a special moment?”

“I swear if I had a ring I’d be on my knees right now, I thought the exact same thing!”

“Really?” her eyes lit up, making her the most pure and beautiful girl in the world in your mind. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since lunch, I wish we could have found each other without the stupid punishment.”

“Look, Zuha,” you reached your hand forward and gently took hers. “It happened, but we can move on from that. I think you’re very special, I’d love nothing more than to see this out properly if you’re also willing.”

“I am,” she smiled softly, giving your hand a quick squeeze. “But if you’re asking me to be your girlfriend, I think the first day is still a bit too early.”

“Absolutely,” you agreed. “Let’s forget this morning ever happened and we can do things properly. The way we want.”

“I’d love that,” she blushed again.

“I have another one, sorta related.”

“Yeah? Shoot.”

“What do you think about being exclusive? I get it if you think it’s too early.”

She pondered the question for a moment, taking another sip and slowly putting down her glass before answering. “I don’t think it’s too early, at least, I don’t feel like it is,” she answered slowly. “I’m not actually talking to anyone else right now, but I’d be willing to make this exclusive if you are.”

“Me too.”

Kazuha hesitated, waiting for you to continue.

“It’s complicated,” you added.

“Oh, alright,” she replied, looking a bit disheartened.

“There’s this girl,” you began explaining. “We’re not in a relationship or anything, but we have a bit of a friends-with-benefits type thing going on.”

“Oh.”

“I know that’s probably not what you wanted to hear, and I’m sorry, but I really want to be honest with you, and of course I promise I’m done with that stuff now,” you replied softly. “My last serious relationship had some… I just don’t want to go through that again, I’d rather be honest with you about everything.”

“I get that, my last relationship also wasn’t great,” Kazuha frowned. “No, you’re right, thank you for telling me. If you don’t mind, do you think we can maybe keep past relationships to ourselves going forward? Sorry, but I don’t know if it’s something I want to hear-”

“You don’t have to explain, trust me, I get it,” you interjected warmly. “And I’ll say the same for you. We’ve both gone through stuff. I'm here if you need someone to talk to about it, but I don’t need to know every specific detail. The past is the past, it doesn’t affect whatever our relationship ends up being.”

“Thank you,” Kazuha smiled again, visibly relaxing as you spoke the right words. “Do you mind if I step away to the bathroom real quick?”

“Of course not, but you have to promise me you won’t pull that trick again,” you answered, flashing her a suspicious look. “I told you I’m treating you to dinner, this one’s on me.”

“Fine,” she smiled, rolling her eyes. “I promise.”

With that, Kazuha got up from the table, gracefully making her way across the restaurant. Her movements, fluid as possible, had you completely in awe, unable to take your eyes away. The way her skirt showcased her perfect legs, accentuating those meticulously sculpted curves, she had your breath catching in your throat, mesmerized and captivated by her grace.

She left this imprint on your mind, convincing you that she was something special. The honeymoon effect was hitting hard, even though you weren’t officially together, you knew it was inevitable at this point - you were going to make Kazuha your girlfriend.

—

“I’m getting this.”

“No you’re not,” you pushed her hand away and tapped your card against the reader.

“You got dinner, this isn’t fair,” Kazuha argued.

“And you’re pretty, what’s your point?”

Kazuha began blushing again, her fingers struggling to put her card back into her wallet. “Th-That has nothing to do with anything,” she stammered, unable to hide how flustered she would get whenever you gave her cheesy compliments.

“Sure it does,” you replied, reaching forward and taking her card from her shaking hand and inserting it into her wallet for her. “I appreciate the gesture, but really, it’s like four dollars, not a big deal.”

“Alright fine, thank you,” she replied, cheeks still flushed a light pink as she accepted her wallet back. “Have you been here before?”

“Nope, first time,” you answered as the two of you sat down. “You?”

“Yeah a couple of times, it’s really good.”

“Ah, so that’s how you picked the flavor so quickly.”

“Actually, it’s my first time trying this one,” Kazuha giggled nervously. “I kinda wanted to try something new, make a new memory with you…”

Your heart skipped a beat. “That is actually so sweet, wow,” you muttered, staring into her beautiful round eyes. “Hopefully it’s good then.”

“Or really bad.”

“Huh?”

“Think about it,” Kazuha began explaining. “Just like when you go to a restaurant, you generally remember the really good and really bad, no one remembers the average stuff.”

“Ah I see what you mean,” you responded. “That’s true, but I promise you I’m not going to forget this ice cream no matter how good, bad, or average it is.”

“And why’s that?” Kazuha chuckled, leaning back in her chair. “Don’t tell me, is it because you’re sharing it with me?”

“How’d you know?”

“You’re getting predictable,” Kazuha laughed, smiling brightly.

“And you’re so-”

“Pretty?”

“Beautiful.”

The way her face lit up when she smiled was absolutely enchanting. She didn’t know it, but she had you wrapped around her finger, you were starting to think you’d do anything for this girl. No, you already knew it, you would do anything for this girl. Your heart rate whenever she smiled was all the confirmation you needed.

“Your sundae, enjoy!” a cheery staff member dropped off the bowl of ice cream at your table. “Let me know if you need anything else!”

“Thank you,” Kazuha smiled respectfully at the young girl before turning back to you. “It looks good.”

“Then let’s find out if it’s as good as it looks.”

Kazuha picked up her spoon, scooping up some of the cookie crumbles and fudge ice cream onto it before holding it out for you. Taking her lead, you opened your mouth and let her feed you.

“Wow,” you mumbled as the taste hit your tongue. “That is seriously way better than I expected.”

“Is it?” Kazuha looked at you with glee.

“Yeah, here,” you picked up your spoon and returned the favor, feeding Kazuha the ice cream. Her eyes lit up immediately - she was so unbelievably cute. “Right?”

“You weren’t kidding, that’s amazing,” Kazuha gushed, going for another bite.

Something you noticed, and loved, about Kazuha was that she wasn’t afraid to eat. Even though she was exceptionally feminine and graceful, she wasn’t shy when it came to food. It was adorable, especially with how expressive she would be when the food was good. Within just a minute, full of spoon hitting glass, the bowl of ice cream the two of you were sharing was practically emptied.

“So, Zuha, you never actually told me, what’s your major?” you asked as you put down your spoon. “I just realized I never asked what you wanted to do after school.”

“I’d love to one day teach ballet, and my major is biology,” she answered, scooping out pieces of cookies from the bottom of the bowl before looking up at you and laughing. “You look shocked.”

“Sorry, it’s a lovely dream, I just wasn’t expecting it,” you chuckled. “So I guess the next natural question would be why the hell did you pick biology if you want to teach ballet?”

“Well, I’ve been training ballet my whole life,” Kazuha explained. “And I wanted to do something interesting and challenging on top of that, so I found myself in biochemical sciences.”

That would explain why she was so graceful, you thought to yourself. “That’s awesome, and quite admirable.”

“Thank you. It can be pretty tough managing all of that while still trying to keep some semblance of a social life.”

“You seem to be doing alright,” you replied with a smile. “Especially if you found time to go on a date with me.”

“I make time for things I want to do,” Kazuha smiled back, making your cheeks warm. “What, no cheeky response this time?”

“Sorry, sometimes it’s just so hard to focus on anything other than your smile.”

“There it is,” Kazuha laughed while rolling her eyes.

“Hey, I know it’s getting kinda late, but would you want-”

“I’d love to come over for a bit,” Kazuha cut you off, smiling brighter than ever.

—

“How could you possibly forget sugar?” you burst out laughing. “They’re cookies, that’s like, the most basic part.”

“That was Chaewon’s responsibility, not mine!” Kazuha defended herself. “Anyway, we tried making them without it.”

“You tried making cookies without sugar?” you laughed even harder. “I gotta know, how’d they turn out?”

“I don’t know, we ended up burning them,” Kazuha joined you in laughter. “I’ll have to make them for you some day.”

“After hearing about your baking skills, I think I’m alright,” you teased, picking up your glass of champagne and taking another sip. “I don’t think I’ll be buying your cookbook.”

“You sure?” Kazuha took a big sip before putting her own glass down. “I’ll even sign it for you,” she added, leaning closer to you.

“Depends what you sign it as,” you replied, putting your glass down as well, opening your arms for Kazuha to snuggle up with you.

“And what would you want me to sign it as?” she asked, her face right in front of yours.

“My girlfriend?”

“I thought we agreed it’s too early,” she whispered, moving her lips even closer to yours. “That one day wasn’t enough time?”

“It’s past midnight already,” you whispered into her mouth before leaning forward and closing the gap slightly.

“Have we really been talking for that long?” she whispered back, closing it some more.

And just like that, you found your lips softly brushing again Kazuha’s once more. The kiss was soft; Kazuha’s pretty eyes fluttered shut as she leaned into it, sweet and tender. The room went silent, completely still, as the air was filled with the lingering sounds of your lips colliding. A tender echo, her sweet breaths reverberating in your ears, perfectly describing the gentle and warm feeling you had coursing through your body as you kissed Kazuha. Delicate and calm, you got lost in her touch.

She brought her hands up to your cheeks, cupping your face lightly, leaning into you. Meanwhile, your hand explored her body, rubbing against her core, feeling through her top how toned she was. Your hand slowly slid lower until it was resting against the side of her thigh, slipping just a bit underneath her skirt.

Kazuha pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting yours, a hint of hesitation showing. “I’m not ready to go all the way,” she whispered softly.

“I’m in no rush,” you whispered back, pressing your lips forward again.

Her eyes shot wide open for a moment before she slowly closed them again, relief calming her down as she began gently prodding her tongue against yours. Then, to your surprise, she grabbed your wrist and gently guided it along her leg until your palm was resting against her soft ass before she brought her hand back up to the back of your neck, her fingers lightly grabbing your hair.

Following her lead, you gave her ass a gentle squeeze, making sure not to push past her boundaries. The way she kissed you, the increase in passion, was confirmation that she was okay with it. Her body was perfect, you got lost in the warmth of her skin, your fingers brushing just slightly against the fabric of her underwear by mistake.

Yet, she didn’t pull back at all. She didn’t seem to mind, at least that’s what her kiss was telling you. Kazuha was getting more and more aggressive with it, and soon enough you found yourself falling onto your back with Kazuha on top of you. Her hands which were previously squeezing your hair, returned to your face, cupping your cheeks again as her tongue pushed audaciously into your mouth.

Her passion was met with your own as you brought your other hand around her body, holding her perfectly sculpted ass in your palms. You gave her a few soft squeezes, addicted to her body, at this point your palms were placed directly on her ass, your fingers gently kneading her softness. Caution was slowly dissipating as you got more comfortable with each other’s bodies.

The moment felt like it was stretching, enveloping you in excitement, a sign of hopefully some future with the girl you were holding onto. However, even though you could have kept going all night, you could feel the natural end coming. With her cheeks flushed red, and a soft smile on her lips, Kazuha pulled back, breathing deeply above you.

“I could really get used to this,” she smiled warmly down at you.

“I’m definitely not going to stop you,” you smiled back before pulling her into your embrace, gently rubbing her back as you took in the lovely scent of her shampoo. “Zuha, it’s getting kinda late.”

“Are you kicking me out?” Kazuha giggled as she started to get off you.

Without hesitation, you pulled her back in even tighter. “Absolutely not,” you clarified, giving the top of her head a little peck. “I was just going to ask if you have class tomorrow morning.”

“I do,” Kazuha sighed heavily. “But it’s fine, I’ll skip it.”

“I can’t in good conscience be responsible for that,” you replied when Kazuha’s phone began ringing. “You going to skip that, too?”

“I probably shouldn’t,” Kazuha groaned as she leaned over towards the table, nearly falling off the couch if it wasn’t for you catching her. “Thanks,” she giggled before answering. “Hello? No, I'm not still out. No, I'm not drunk. Yes Chaewon-ah, I’m safe. Are you done? Oh my God, bye.”

“Cookie girl?” you teased as Kazuha sat up and began stretching.

“Yeah,” she yawned, arms straight up, her top riding up just enough for you to see her perfectly sculpted abs. “I had a lot of fun today,” she smiled warmly, her eyes twinkling as she let her arms fall to her side, shoulders slumped.

“I did too,” you smiled back, sitting up as well to give her another quick kiss. “Want me to walk you back to your room?”

“Actually,” Kazuha bit her lip nervously. “I kinda promised Chaewon that I wouldn’t drink tonight, I don’t really want her to know.”

“Zuha, you should have told me. We didn’t have to finish that bottle.”

“No no, I wanted to drink with you… I guess I felt safe with you,” she replied softly. “But now I have to ask, do you mind if I spend the night? I really don’t want to get scolded by her.”

“Uh, sure, but don’t you think she’ll be more concerned if you spend the night?”

“Nah, she’s going to have to get used to it anyway,” Kazuha replied casually while standing up and holding her hand out for you. “I’m going to be spending the night in my boyfriend’s room from time to time.”

“Boyfriend?” you stood up and grabbed her hand excitedly. “Does that mean…”

“Yes,” Kazuha silenced you with another kiss. “Boyfriend. Fuck timelines, I’m ready if you are.”

If only she could feel your heart pounding out of your chest. “Definitely,” you smiled back, giving her hand a squeeze.

—

“I’m pretty impressed that you have all this makeup remover stuff,” Kazuha commented as she walked out of your bathroom. “You have girls over often or something?”

“Umm.”

“Oh, I completely forgot about…” Kazuha’s cheeks turned bright red. “Sorry, ignore that.”

“Her name is Sana, but no,” you answered honestly, ignoring her embarrassment. “That stuff is from when I was with my ex. She was the last girl I let in my room.”

“I see, well, it’s very convenient regardless,” Kazuha replied as she looked around your room.

“You’re more than welcome to borrow whatever clothes you’d like by the way, I assume you’re not sleeping in that,” you added as you took off your shirt and pants before getting into your bed, admiring how incredibly stunning Kazuha looked even without makeup - this girl was unreal.

“It’s fine,” a shy smile formed on Kazuha’s lips before she turned around and began stripping down to her underwear as well. “You don’t mind, right?”

“By all means, whatever you’re most comfortable with.”

“I’m going to turn the lights off before I get in, alright?”

“Sure,” you replied casually while plugging your phone into your charger. “Just be careful, don’t trip on anything.”

“I will,” Kazuha responded as she shut off the lights. In the darkness, Kazuha took a second before slipping into the bed next to you, her beautiful face barely visible under the faint moonlight shining through your window. “Can I ask you another question?”

“You can always ask me a question.”

“How’d you like feeling my body earlier while we kissed?”

“Ah, what a question,” you chuckled. “Your body is fucking amazing Zuha, I can tell you work out a lot.”

“Oh yeah? How’s that?” Kazuha asked, her voice littered with allure in the most teasing way possible.

“Your abs, they’re rock solid.”

“Let’s play a little game, how about you try finding my abs in the dark?” Kazuha teased, giggling softly.

“Sounds fun,” you smirked, reaching your hand across the bed. You fumbled around for a second until your hand made contact with skin, soft skin. It took you a moment before you realized what you were holding. “Yup, that’s a titty, and you aren’t wearing a bra.”

“You’re right,” she giggled, grabbing your wrist and sliding it down until your hand was rubbing against her core. “And these are my abs.”

“Damn, they’re so nice,” you moaned softly. “We should workout together, you could train me.”

“Sure,” Kazuha whispered before sliding your wrist even lower. “And how does this feel?”

“Zuha,” you gasped as she placed your hand between her legs, and sure enough, she wasn’t wearing anything. “What happened to not being ready tonight?”

“This is different,” she whispered. “I’ve already sucked your cock in a bathroom, this is pretty harmless if you ask me.”

“Yeah, but-”

“If you’re not comfortable, I won’t be offended if you pull away.”

Yeah, there was no chance you were doing that.

“You’re sure about this?” you asked carefully as you began rubbing between her legs softly, feeling how wet she was.

“Absolutely,” she muttered, sliding closer to you.

“Then I want this to be perfect,” you whispered back, sliding your other hand under her body and wrapping it around her, placing it on her chest, giving her tit a soft squeeze. “Tell me what feels good.”

“What you’re doing now is nice,” she moaned as you rubbed slow and steady circles against her clit.

“Good,” you breathed before leaning forward and finding her lips.

As you began kissing her, you started moving your fingers a bit faster, sliding down her slit every few circles, teasing her entrance with the tip of your finger. You used her moans as your guidance, feeling for when you hit the right spots, hyperfocusing on what made Kazuha feel good. Once you began finding a rhythm, figuring her out, you started speeding up some more.

“Fuck that’s nice,” she moaned, separating her lips from yours, breathing into your mouth heavily.

With that moment of opportunity, you shoved your mouth into her neck and began kissing her collarbone. At the same time, you pinched her nipple softly with one hand and eased one finger into her pussy, just up until the first knuckle.

“Oh fuck,” she gasped, grabbing the back of your head with her hand and latching onto your hair. “Go deeper.”

And that was exactly what you did, pushing your finger deeper while using your thumb to rub her clit. You also took the opportunity to move lower down her body, leaving her neck and putting your mouth on her nipple, sucking it taut. With your mouth on one nipple and your finger lightly pinching the other, you found something was working because Kazuha’s whole body was moving up and down with her moans at this point.

Your fingers worked nonstop, gently fucking her pussy, daring to go deeper with each thrust. It was a balancing act of making her feel good and making sure you don’t go too hard, a balancing act that you were succeeding in, clearly. But you wanted more.

“Zuha,” you pulled back, looking up at her. “Can I go down on you?”

Even in the darkness, you could see her bite her lower lip nervously. “Maybe just… just fingers tonight… if that’s okay,” she mumbled quietly.

“No problem,” you whispered back before leaning forward and kissing her again.

She was hesitant for just a second before she got back into it, that burning passion returning with a vengeance. As you kissed her, you went back to slipping your finger into her soft pussy. She was warm, and incredibly wet, a soft wet squishing sound filled the room, mixed with the sound of your kiss, as you pushed your finger in and out of her.

With your tongue down her mouth and one hand gently massaging her tit, it really didn’t take much longer for you to start feeling Kazuha’s insides squeezing against your finger. In rhythmic beauty, she began moaning into your mouth, gasping and panting as her pussy pressed down hard. You slipped your finger out and began rubbing soft circles around her clit, making sure not to press too hard.

Kazuha rode her orgasm out for as long as she could, making sure to never separate her lips from yours. It wasn’t until her body finally relaxed did she stop kissing you. “I can’t believe how comfortable I feel around you,” Kazuha mumbled, rubbing wrapping her hands around your body gently. “To think, I only met you because of that stupid punishment.”

“You’re telling me,” you gave her a small squeeze. “I can’t believe how quickly things are moving.”

“Yeah,” Kazuha sighed. “I guess I set the tempo kinda fast this morning.”

“Zuha,” you paused to give her cheek a kiss. “We agreed to forget about that silliness, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I know, but I can’t exactly forget what I did,” Kazuha laughed softly. “Seriously I promise I’m not that type of girl.”

“Zuha-”

“Like, I know it kinda seems like it with what happened this morning and the fact that I’m literally laying in your bed naked, but I swear-”

“Zuha!” you interrupted her. “It’s fine, seriously, I wouldn’t have asked you to be my girlfriend if I didn’t really like you. So what if things are moving fast, who cares?”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Let’s just let things happen, do what feels right,” you added, playing with the muscles on her back. “Whatever feels natural, I’m here with you and committed to making this work.”

“Then how about you let me take care of you?” Kazuha giggled softly.

“What?”

“You realize I can feel everything in this position, right?”

“Alright well with how fucking hot you are, there’s not a straight man on this planet who wouldn’t be, not in this position.”

“I’m not blaming you,” Kazuha whispered, leaning back so that she was face to face with you. She slowly snaked her hand down your body, softly rubbing your shaft through your underwear. “It would be pretty cruel of me if I didn’t, not after what you just did for me.”

“I’m happy just holding you, there’s no pressure for you to do anything tonight,” you replied, your breath hitching as Kazuha slipped her delicate fingers down your waistband. “Really, Zuha, if you’re tired it’s totally fine.”

“Let’s be real with ourselves,” Kazuha leaned forward and kissed you before smiling softly at you. “Neither of us are sleeping much tonight.”

“Is that so?” you moaned as she took a gentle grip on your shaft.

“That’s right,” she whispered before pushing you onto your back. Then, inch by inch, she planted kisses down your body. She started at your neck, moving lower, kissing your chest tenderly, all the while still stroking your cock. As she moved lower down your body, she started stroking faster and faster, pausing only to yank your underwear down. “Did I ever tell you why my punishment involved sucking someone off?”

“No,” you flinched as Kazuha let a glob of her warm spit fall onto your cock.

“Because I love sucking cock,” she answered in a whisper.

Before you could respond, Kazuha engulfed your cock in her mouth, making a firm seal around your tip with her lips, prodding softly at your hole with her tongue. Then, she lowered her mouth, swallowing your whole cock in one swift motion before slowly - agonizingly slowly - pulling back up to your tip. After that, she repeated the motion a few more times, plunging down your cock and slowly withdrawing. Any degree of awkwardness from the first time had been replaced with familiarity now as Kazuha worked your cock like an expert.

“Fuck me, Zuha, that feels so fucking good,” you heaved, trying to catch your breath.

“Yeah?” she replied, her voice soft as sugar, before she leaned in and started kissing your balls.

“Yeah, the only shame is not being able to see that beautiful face.”

“Then turn the lamp on,” Kazuha cooed, tossing your blanket to the side and climbing over you, positioning herself between your legs before putting your cock back into her mouth.

As per her suggestion, you leaned over and turned on a small lamp you kept on your side table. With that, you felt your cock ready to completely erupt as you took a look at Kazuha who was staring up at you. Her eyes were so fucking beautiful. You couldn’t hold back, not with how good she looked right now with her cheeks hollowed, moving steadily up and down your shaft.

“Zuha, you’re going to make me cum,” you mumbled, straining and squirming your whole body as you desperately tried to hold back. “I can’t…”

She wasn’t phased at all, she just kept on sucking your cock at the same excruciatingly slow pace. The next who-knows-how-many seconds went by in a flash, instantly yet somehow lasting forever at the same time. She never once broke eye contact, and her mouth never once changed tempo, all that changed was how much pressure she applied with her lips, expertly varying it to make your cock feel that much better.

It wasn’t until the first burst of your cum flew into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat, did she finally stop moving. As your cum began volleying into her mouth, she held her lips tight around your cock, making sure not a single drop leaked through the smirk that formed on her face. Her eyes, those beautiful eyes, were fading into adorable little crescents as she proudly accepted all of your cum into her mouth.

“Holy fuck,” you cried out, your cock still pumping away.

Kazuha waited until the impulses slowed down, she let you slowly regain strength, but then as she felt your body relaxing, she started bobbing her head up and down your cock again as fast as she could.

“Please,” you moaned as your cock went into a frenzy, the final few shots of cum flying into Kazuha’s mouth. “Holy fuck!”

Once you were finally done, Kazuha slowly pulled back, letting a fountain of your white cum spill down your shaft as she lifted her lips off, tilting her back before swallowing everything in her mouth.

“I thought there was a lot last time,” Kazuha giggled, unable to contain her proud smile as she grinned from ear to ear. “But there’s so much more this time.”

“Zuha that was so fucking good, look,” you opened your eyes wide. “I’m literally in tears.”

“Good,” she smirked before leaning forward and using her tongue to scoop your cum off your shaft into her mouth. “I’ll do this for you whenever you want. Every night if you want.”

“I would literally die,” you inhaled sharply as her tongue grazed against your tip. “I wouldn’t be able to think about anything else all day.”

“Did you really like it that much?” she asked while licking nearing your shaft, looking for more spilled cum.

“Zuha,” you sat up and grabbed her by the arms. “Yes, I don’t know how to convince you.”

She looked deep into your eyes, her beautiful round eyes shimmering in the dim light of your room. Those beautiful features, the perfect face, sporting a soft expression as she stared at you. “I believe you,” she whispered before closing her eyes and tilting her head.

Without hesitation, you met her movement and pressed your lips firmly against hers, bringing your hands around her body and feeling her back. Her skin was so soft, you wanted to touch and feel her body forever. Unfortunately for you, the kiss did not last forever, and eventually you had to let go of her.

“I know we agreed not to talk about exes, but can I tell you something?” Zuha asked as she snuggled up in your arms.

“What’s up?”

“He’d never kiss me after I-”

Before replying, you pushed her chin up with a finger and kissed her mouth again. “Sounds like an idiot, no offense,” you replied casually. “I’ll never understand that. If I’m willing to suck on a girl’s vagina, I feel like kissing after head is really not a big deal.”

“I’ve never actually had anyone…” her voice trailed off.

“Zuha,” you let go of her and sat up, looking down at her. “Is that why you didn’t let me go down on you earlier?”

Her cheeks turned red as she avoided your gaze for a moment before she looked back up at you and nodded slowly. You bent forward and kissed her again, repeatedly, on the lips for about a minute before sitting up again.

“It’s entirely your choice, I’d never make you do something that you’re not comfortable with,” you began softly while rubbing her thigh. “But I want you to know, I’d love nothing more than to make you feel good.”

“I just can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed,” Kazuha admitted quietly. “It’s not that I’m not comfortable with you, because I am, I just don’t know…”

“I never want you to feel embarrassed around me,” you spoke softly as you moved down the bed and began slowly spreading her legs. “Do I have your permission?”

She hesitated again, as if fighting an internal battle, but then she nodded, her eyes shimmering as the early signs of dawn crept through your window.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” she whispered back, adjusting herself to get more comfortable.

“Then just relax,” you instructed her softly before pressing your lips below her navel and leaving a long, very drawn out kiss on her skin. Then, as you slid a bit lower, you paused to reach up and grab Kazuha’s hands. She took your lead, interlocking her fingers with yours and taking a deep breath. “You’re so incredibly breathtaking, just tell me what feels good,” you murmured, letting the breath of your words hit her pussy.

Your mouth began drooling at this point, overwhelmed by how enticing Kazuha’s pussy looked right now as the sun crept through the window some more, making her body glisten beautifully. It was enchanting. You pressed your lips to her pussy, holding steady as Kazuha took a deep breath, letting her get truly comfortable with your touch before giving her pussy a tender kiss.

“You alright?”

“Mhmm,” Kazuha breathed, giving your fingers a little squeeze, encouraging you to keep going.

Even that small taste of her body had you desperate for more. You wanted nothing more than to shove your face as deep into her pussy as physically possible, to suck and lick her until the sun went down again. But this was less for you, and more for Kazuha, so you took it slow.

With your mouth opened wide, you carefully pressed down on her pussy, creating a seal with your lips and her skin. She squeezed your hand again as you stuck out your tongue and pressed it flat against her folds. You began pressing down, applying pressure with various parts of your tongue, truly relishing in the slight tang of Kazuha’s pussy. She tasted so addicting despite it being so subtle.

And just like that, you were addicted and completely consumed by Kazuha’s taste. Paired with the sounds of Kazuha moaning as you applied more pressure with your tongue and lips, you were in heaven. You moved around, exploring Kazuha’s body to your heart’s desire, pausing occasionally to give her inner thighs kisses before latching back onto her pussy.

The more you feasted, the more she gave. Your lower face was completely drenched in Kazuha’s wetness as she leaked all over you. It wasn’t possible to lap it all up, despite how hard you tried, but you tried nonetheless. As her pussy, wet and warm, responded to your touch, her moans became even more vocal. She was definitely trying to stay quiet to the best of her ability, but she was failing as she got closer.

Especially now, as you could feel her body trembling slightly, each lick made her body jolt. Each kiss sent her into a frenzy. Her moans crescendoed as you sped up, sucking and licking her pussy with all of your power, and her thighs began pressing against the sides of your head and her fingers threatened to crush yours.

Then, with a particularly hefty gush of pleasure jetting out of her pussy, Kazuha began crying out in pleasure, her body convulsing in your mouth. “Oh fuck,” she sobbed, digging her nails into the back of your hands. “That feels so good.”

All you wanted to do was make her feel good - nothing brought you more pleasure. You held yourself in place between Kazuha’s legs, not that you could move even if you wanted to thanks to how hard her legs were clamping down on your face, and you gently teased her pussy with your tongue, giving it a few flicks before planting a very soft kiss on her clit, sucking on it tenderly.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Kazuha moaned, letting go of your hand and pushing your face away, detaching your mouth from her sensitive clit. “It’s too much.”

As soon as she pushed your head away, you dove back in and started kissing her thighs, switching back and forth between them. You knew her pussy was far too sensitive right now, the most you did was let your breath hit her skin, even that earned a full-body shudder. You gave her a final kiss on each thigh before crawling back up the bed next to Kazuha.

She turned to face you, and without saying a word, she lunged for your mouth, kissing you passionately and deeply - harder than ever. You let her take control, she got to guide the kiss, regulate the passion to her desires. Kazuha went on for a bit, even wrapping her leg around your body, rubbing her warmth against you until she was finally satisfied. She backed up, looking you straight in the eyes, the most precious girl you have ever seen in your life.

“That was amazing,” she muttered quietly, unable to contain her smile.

“You’re amazing,” you replied, giving her butt a small pat before glancing at your window. “The sun’s up.”

“I’m not sleepy.”

“Me neither,” you smiled back, giving her another kiss. “So, what should we do?”

“Do you have class?” she asked.

“I’ll skip it if you skip yours.”

“I’m definitely skipping,” Kazuha giggled.

“Then I guess I don’t have class.”

“Perfect,” she turned around and snuggled her body into yours.

Within just a minute of being in your arms, the ‘not sleepy’ girl passed out, pushing against your body with each deep breath she took. You gave her one last gentle kiss on the top of her head before closing your eyes, unable to wipe the smile off your face.

---

A/N:

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS. I've been wanting to write this for so long and I finally decided to sit down and get to it. Words really cannot explain how into Kazuha I am at the moment, but hopefully this fic at least shed some light on my recent addiction over her.

I don't know what to work on next. The next Dating Seraphs chapter is going to be kinda Kazuha heavy, so I kinda don't want to post that right after this. I think this fic is the first time I've blatantly teased some of the other idols who will be appearing in Roommates, I hope that's exciting for some of you!

Maybe I'll try releasing something else around the New Years, we'll see. I'd love to hear what you guys think about this fic though, I can't rememember the last time I wrote this much straight up one-on-one fluff in a fic. There's going to be a third part to this mini series, and I promise you that one will have some sex scenes!

#kpop smut #smut #kpop fanfic #male reader #fanfiction #kazuha smut #le sserafim smut #kpop fanfiction

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reidsism · 4 days ago

Text

➳ THE SOUND OF HEARTBREAK — S.R

to nav 𓇙 to s.r mlist

spencer reid x soft!bimbo!reader

in which, for all your love, you just can’t compare to the most beautiful girl in the world

wc: 13.5k (woah)

warnings: post maeve arc (so spoilers for 8×10 - 8×12), heavy angst, but so so much love and fluff before it! im picturing this taking place between s8 and s9 lol. also some of the bau aren’t like. super nice in this one soz :/

a/n: don’t stress abt the ending too much bc im already planning a part two (tbh a whole saga around these two icl). also yeah if u can’t tell, i don’t really like maeve im so sorry. i don’t think i do her any injustice here but this is like. me fixing stuff. sorta. kinda. not really. mostly just painfully. :,) also omg reblogs?! best part of my day fr

“Just as one day we will be separated by my death or yours. I know this must seem like a heaping up of obscurities to you. I can't say it in a more orderly and comprehensible way. I love you wildly, insanely, infinitely.” -Boris Pasternak, Doctor Zhivago.

The living room is quiet.

Spencer’s apartment is always quiet, peaceful, warm. How could it not be, surrounded by books you’d never heard of, shelves that reach the ceiling and lined edge-to-edge with copies of novels that are older than you, in languages you can’t begin to comprehend?

The chess table is still set up, mid-game, from where Spencer had been teaching you how to play the other day. He’d gotten a call from his boss that he had to come in, and Spencer had stared at the board for no more than a moment before saying you could continue once he was back, then he pressed a kiss to the space between your eyebrows—your glabella, as he had once mentioned—before rushing out the door.

It still feels strange, being in his apartment without him here. But he had called you from the jet on his way back, and asked if you’d be home when he got back. He sounded so sleepy, so sweet, you couldn’t help the murmur of assent from spilling from your lips.

He’d only given you a key a week ago, and you were beyond shocked when he had pressed it into your hand, the metal digging into your palm. This, between you, was still so new, so young. But he’d assured you that he trusted you, that he always wanted you around, that you having a key to his home wasn’t a matter of if, only when, and he’d prefer not to waste unnecessary time.

It’s late when the door opens.

Spencer is quiet when he enters, expecting to see you either curled up on his couch or lying asleep in his bed, but instead, you’re standing at one of his bookshelves, your hand outstretched to reach at the higher shelves.

He’s a bit surprised. The top three shelves on that unit are all foreign novels, ones he’s collected from his youth. Latin, German, Russian, Korean, and even a couple of thick Spanish texts that he used mostly to continue learning the language.

You’re silent, not even turning your head to acknowledge his presence, and Spencer wonders if you’ve even heard the door at all.

“Angel?” he prompts, causing your head to whip to the left so quickly he’s momentarily concerned you’ve given yourself whiplash. You tear yourself away from the shelf immediately, like the surface itself has burned you, and Spencer pauses. “You okay? You didn’t even hear me come in.”

You just nod, jerkily, tucking your lower lip between your teeth. “I was just looking,” you tilt your head to the shelf and shrug, pulling the sleeves of your sweater over your hands and crossing your arms over your chest. “Sorry.”

Spencer shakes his head, hanging up his messenger bag and coat on the hook by the door. “You don’t need to apologize,” he says, coming closer to you. “Are you curious about them? You can borrow a few, if you want.” He sits on the couch carefully, like he knows there’s something you’re not saying.

You shake your head with a sigh, glancing back over at his stacks of novels. “That’s alright, Spence.” He pats the cushion next to him and you seat yourself slowly onto the cool leather, crossing your legs under yourself. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’d get it anyway.”

Spencer furrows his brows. “I’m sure you would, actually. There’s no reason why you couldn’t, unless it was a language you don’t understand. But even then,” he tilts his head, scooching ever so slightly closer to you. “I can still read them to you.”

You sigh softly. “I know, honey. You know I love it when you read to me,” the corner of your lips twitch up, and it makes a slow grin pull at Spencer’s cheeks. “How was the case, anyway?”

Spencer shrugs. “Fine, as usual. It doesn’t matter anymore, anyway.” He rests his arm over the back of the couch, a silent beckon for you to curl into him like usual. “I’m home now. With you,” he presses the softest of kisses to your hairline. “Are you tired?”

You shake your head, “Not really. I’m sure you are, though. Want me to start the kettle?” Spencer can’t help the nod—he is tired. Exhausted, even. You just smile at him before standing and padding to the kitchen and turning on the stove, setting the metal kettle on the burner.

He hears the cabinets open and the sound of ceramic being placed on granite. You’re quietly humming to yourself, and Spencer closes his eyes. It’s nice, so domestic in a way he hadn’t expected. You peek your head around the corner for a moment. “Lavender or peppermint?”

He smiles, all warm and soft. “Lavender, please.”

You nod once, your head hiding behind the wall again before you peek back out. “Maybe take a shower, honey. It’ll help you relax, y’know,” you grin, teasing at him. “The tea’ll be done when you are.”

Spencer’s eyes crinkle as he chuckles, watching you turn back to the kitchen. He stands with a sigh before heading into his bedroom to grab pyjamas and a towel, then into the bathroom where he leaves the door open, just a crack.

You take the kettle off the burner before it has a chance to whistle, not wanting to disturb this quiet, peaceful comfort that has settled into the cozy warmth of your boyfriend’s apartment. You make his tea exactly how he likes it; black, with no less than four sugars.

You hear the water from the shower shut off just as you’re bringing the mugs to the coffee table—on coasters, cute little pastel ceramic ones shaped like fruit slices. You’d bought them at a flea market downtown years ago, and when you saw that he didn’t have any, despite all the coffee and tea he drinks, you didn’t hesitate to bring them over.

They might look slightly out of place in this warm, cozy place, but, well… Maybe you have that in common.

The bedroom door creaks open before you have the chance to spiral too far. Spencer emerges in a loose-fitting MIT tee and sweatpants. He meanders slowly to the couch before flopping down and grabbing his mug—his usual one, with “think like a proton, they’re always positive!” faded on the side. It’s starting to chip, but he got it for free at a physics convention in Anaheim back when he attended Caltech, and it’s been a memento since.

He smiles as he picks it up off the bright coaster before looking at you. He nods towards the bookshelf you were staring at earlier. “Can you grab that red one for me, angel?” he gestures to a large leather-bound hardcover on the second shelf.

You nod and reach up to grab it. It’s heavier than you’d expected, but you take it to the couch before curling into Spencer’s side.

This has become routine every night you spend here. You make tea, and Spencer reads to you on the couch until you’re either both passed out or too tired to continue, before heading to bed.

You get comfortable, pulling your knees to your chest as he covers you both with the plush throw blanket he keeps on the back of the couch. Spencer clears his throat before starting to read, flipping to some random page in the middle of the book. You don’t question it, just close your eyes and rest your head on his chest.

His voice is low, quiet as he begins to read. You’ve already begun to drift off by the time you start to register the words he’s saying. They’re not from anything he’s ever read to you before.

“I felt a mortal pity for the boy I was, and still more pity for the girl you were. My whole being was astonished and asked: If it’s so painful to love and absorb electricity, how much more painful it is to be a woman, to be the electricity, to inspire love. ‘Here at last I’ve spoken it out. It could make you lose your mind. And the whole of me is in it.’”

You sit up, peering at the pages that Spencer’s eyes are trained on. You can’t hold back the way your breath catches.

“Spence, what is this?” Your brows furrow as you sit up fully, removing yourself from the warmth of his embrace. You wrap the throw blanket around your shoulders tightly.

He glances up from the book. “Doctor Zhivago,” he says simply, as if that explains everything. At your slightly raised brows, he continues. “It’s a Russian romantic novel by poet and composer Boris Pasternak. It was first published in 1957, and—”

“No, I mean, what is that?” You shake your head, pointing at the page.

Spencer’s brow furrows. “The language? This is Cyrillic. It’s the Russian alphabet, and—”

You cut him off again. “I know what Cyrillic is, Spencer.” You can’t hide the bite in your voice. “I meant, what- how- why are you reading it in Russian?”

He shrugs, closing the cover softly. “I have both the original Russian and the English translation, but I prefer this version. The translation makes it clunky, it doesn’t get the tone quite right.”

You just blink at him. “I didn’t know you spoke Russian,” you whisper, curling deeper into the blanket. You hate this, the feeling of inadequacy that comes so frequently from being with a man like Dr. Spencer Reid.

He sets the book down on the coffee table. “I don't, actually. I can read it, though.” He glances sidelong at you. “Is that… a bad thing?”

You shake your head, finally looking at him. “No, of course not, honey. I just,” you sigh. “I don’t know. I feel like I can’t keep up with you sometimes.”

All the time.

Spencer purses his lips. “Well, I don’t need you to. Frankly, I don’t really want you to.”

And that gives you pause. “Really?”

He nods, reaching for you, and you allow him to cradle you in his lap again. “Really. This might come as a bit of a surprise, angel,” he grins, “but I do like you.”

Your face goes warm. You press your cheek into his chest. “I know.” It’s quiet, a murmur, a whisper.

Spencer presses a feather-light kiss to your head. It’s late and quiet and calm, and you’re so warm, cuddled into him and under this plush blanket, that it takes no time at all until you’re fast asleep.

The sun wakes you before you’re quite ready, the bright rays shining on your face.

You’re still curled into Spencer’s chest, his legs stretched out along the length of the couch, whereas you know it’ll hurt to stand after having your knees tucked up all night. The blanket is still wrapped around you, the warmth more suffocating than comforting now, but the weight of his arm slung around your waist is a welcome one.

You peer your head up to look at him, to take him in, in this peaceful state of relaxation. You love this part, when you wake before him and he doesn’t turn his face away when you admire him.

His face is smushed into the throw pillow, his hair wild and messy, thrown every which way like a halo around his head. He’s snoring so softly you can barely hear it, but you do, because there’s nothing about this man you can’t notice.

You try to ignore the tug in your chest. It almost hurts. He looks so peaceful and happy and loved, so relaxed in this sleepy state of the early morning. You almost feel guilty for the thoughts that run wild in your head. How is this real? How is he real? How the hell do you fit into this world—his world—full of chess and tea and comfort and Russian poetry and genius minds?

But then he stirs, and his arm instinctively tightens its hold on your waist, his large hand splaying out over your back. He stretches slightly and, before he even opens his eyes, there’s a smile on his lips.

“Morning, angel.”

Your heart stutters wildly in your chest. You almost feel like bursting into tears right there, collapsing into his chest and letting him comfort you in that way you know he will. But you swallow it back. Just smile at the dopey look on his face, his eyes still shut.

You press the softest of kisses to his cheek, and maybe it’s your mind, but you swear he looks confused for a moment, his brows pulling together as he inhales, his nose at your neck.

It’s your mind. It has to be; your feelings of inadequacy are making you paranoid. “How’d you sleep, baby?” you murmur, your lips brushing his cheek before you pull away.

Then he opens his eyes, his honey-brown irises taking you in so sweetly, scanning over your face as a soft smile overtakes his lips. “Best sleep I’ve gotten in a long while,” he grins, pressing a peck at your lips. “Do you want any coffee?”

You nod, allowing him to crawl out from under you and stand from the couch. He pads into the kitchen, leaving you with your mugs from last night and the red leather hardcover of Doctor Zhivago. You soften immediately. Spencer was reading you poetry. He’d never done that before, read anything romantic. Usually, he read something you were at least familiar with, the classics, stuff you somewhat remember reading in high school. But this warms your heart so much you swear it’ll melt right there in your chest, drip down your ribs like sticky-sweet honey.

You stand, stretching out your legs, and pick up the mugs before bringing them to the kitchen. Spencer’s standing at the counter, his back to you, his hands bracing the edge of the counter. You set the mugs down in the sink and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your cheek on his back. “You okay, honey?”

Spencer nods, placing his hands over yours where they lay on his front. “I’m fine, angel. You can leave the mugs, I’ll wash them. Did you want to shower?”

You hum, pulling away from the hug but maintaining your hold on his hand. “Sure. Did you wanna join me?” you grin, “y’know, save water, and all that?”

Spencer’s neck flushes red, and he swallows harshly. “Not right now, sweetheart. But go ahead, take your time.” He gives your palm a squeeze when you pout. “Your coffee will be done by the time you’re back, and I don’t have to go in to work. Not unless I get a call.” He smiles when your face brightens. “So we’ll have the day, okay?”

You nod, a grin wide across your lips before you’re bouncing off to his bedroom. He hears the shower turn on a moment later, and he sighs heavily as he turns on the sink to wash the mugs.

Spencer can’t stop the quirk of his lips as he stares at your mug for a moment—a cute, bright pink one, tapered at the top like an upside-down strawberry. He takes extra care as he washes it, making sure to get soapy water around all of the molded leaves and seeds.

He exhales as he sets it aside. Runs a damp hand down his face. He needs to collect himself, but god, it’s so hard when he swears she’s hovering over his shoulder.

Spencer’s reading silently on the couch, sipping at the last bit of coffee in his mug. You’re on the other end, scrolling absently on your phone as you set your strawberry mug onto an orange slice coaster. You glance over at him, and you soften. “Spence?”

He hums, looking up at you. You’re lost looking into his eyes. He’s wearing glasses today, his thick browline ones that frame his face just right, and you wonder why he wears contacts so often. Why he doesn’t let himself look like this more frequently. He looks stunning in spectacles. “Angel?”

You blink at his prompting. “I was just wondering,” you shrug, glancing over your shoulder at the chess table behind you. “Did you want to continue?”

Spencer lets a smile slowly overtake his cheeks. He nods, setting down his mug onto a pink grapefruit slice coaster. “If you want, sure.” At your assent, he stands, holding out a hand.

Your cheeks flush with warmth as he helps you stand from the couch. You follow him to the table before seating yourself in the same seat as a week ago, staring at the pieces in concentration.

He smiles. “Do you remember where we left off? You nod, and he moves his rook up two places.

Your hand hovers over your knight, then your queen, almost shaking with uncertainty. Spencer watches you, his eyes soft but calculating, patiently waiting for your next move. You rest your fingers over a pawn and move it up one space with resignation.

“You know, angel,” Spencer says softly, all gentle comfort. “It’s not about making the perfect move. It’s about thinking a few steps ahead, but also,” he moves his rook up and takes the pawn you’d just moved, setting it to the side. “Trusting your instincts. You’ve got this,” he smiles so warmly at you, so reassuring. You still feel the slightest twinge of frustration and embarrassment.

Chess doesn’t come naturally to you, but you’re determined to figure it out. For him.

You bite your lip, glancing over the board. You’re sure his comment about trusting your instincts has something to do with the way you’d hesitated, but you’re still so confused about what to do. You glance up at Spencer again, his eyes fixed on the board, his hands gently tapping at the edge of the table.

“What should I do with my queen?” you ask, a little hesitant. “I feel like she’s… I don’t know. Not doing much.” God, how do you stop feeling so stupid about this?

Spencer just smiles, that warm, gentle expression that makes you feel like you’re the only one in the room. “That’s okay, sweetheart. Remember, your queen can move in any direction. Horizontal, vertical, or diagonal, but only as long as nothing is blocking her path. She’s powerful. You have to decide how to use her.”

You nod slowly, trying to picture it in your head. “So… I can go anywhere? Like, here?” you ask, pointing to a spot near his king.

“Exactly,” he says, his voice steady, his gaze never leaving the board. “But you’ll want to think about what happens after you move her. Like, does it leave you open to being attacked? Does it bring you closer to checkmate?”

You inhale shakily, trying to digest it all as you nod, but it’s a lot to process. You take a deep breath. You can do this. You look down at the board, then back at him, his gaze still so patient. “What if I mess up?” you ask softly, unable to hide the shyness in your voice, your tone full of the nervous doubt you try to push down.

Spencer chuckles gently. “You won’t mess up, angel. Even if you do, it’s just part of learning. I’m not going anywhere,” he smiles. “You’re doing great.”

His words warm you more than the mug of coffee you’d just finished, and you feel that familiar flutter in your chest. You allow yourself a small, shy grin before focusing on the board again. You move your queen exactly as he described, cautiously placing her diagonally across the board.

Spencer’s eyes light up a little, and his smile widens. “See? That’s the right move. You’re getting it. You’re really good at this,” and oh, how your chest positively aches at the pride in his expression.

Your heart skips a beat at his compliment, like it always does, and you let out a soft giggle. “I’m not that good, Spence,” you reply, trying to play it off.

He shakes his head, and you can see the admiration in his eyes. “You’re more natural at this than you think, trust me. Just keep practicing.” You sit back, watching him move a piece, and then he looks up at you, tilting his head. “It’s all about finding balance—taking risks, but also knowing when to protect what matters. Just like life.”

You blink at him, a little stunned by the way his words feel. Just like life? Maybe that’s what this whole chess thing is about—finding a way to balance your moves, even when things feel a little uncertain. Even when you’re just learning.

And then Spencer laughs softly, snapping you out of your thoughts. “You look so lost in thought, angel. Am I being too deep or introspective?” He gently pushes his glasses up his nose from where they’ve begun to slip down the slope of it.

You shake your head quickly, your heart racing as his eyes meet yours. “No, no! Not at all! I’m just thinking about how much you know.” You move your knight in an L-shape, like he taught you, and if the twinkle in his eye is any indication, you’ve made a good move. “Like, it’s crazy. You make it all sound so easy.”

Spencer just shrugs modestly, then picks up his rook and moves it up. “It’s just about seeing the whole board. Everyone has their own way of learning. Yours just happens to be different.” His eyes soften as he looks at you, and you feel your heart tug. “And I think that’s what makes you special.”

You bite down on your lip, trying to focus on the game again, but his words are ringing in your ears, making everything feel like it’s a little too perfect. The fact that he’s teaching you, patiently guiding you through something new, something you want to learn for him, feels so intimate.

You try to steady your breath as you make your next move, feeling your fingers brush against his as you capture his bishop. It’s a brief touch, but it makes your heart race. You chance a peek at him, and oh. His smile is so impossibly bright. You clear your throat and continue, tucking his bishop onto the table beside the board.

You’ve got this.

It's mid-afternoon when you pipe up again. “Y’know, the weather’s really nice today, Spence.”

He looks up from his book, honey-brown eyes tracing your nose from where you’re curled under his arm. “Yeah, I saw. It’s supposed to be pretty temperate until next week; then the rain is supposed to hit.” He lifts his arm from your shoulders and tenderly traces his knuckle down your jaw. “Did you want to go out?”

You shrug lamely, going shy and warm under his gentle gaze. “I don’t know, I guess, yeah. It’s really warm out.” Your eyes lock onto his. “I think we could go to the park or something?”

Spencer smiles, his hand gently gripping your chin as he presses a soft kiss to your lips. “That sounds great, sweetheart.” He stands, and pulls you up with him. He crouches to help you slip on your running shoes and ties the laces. You can’t tear your eyes from his lithe, slender fingers working the laces and, oh. Your heart beats wildly in your chest.

He stands and slings his messenger bag over his shoulder before grabbing his keys with one hand and yours with the other.

His fingers intertwine with yours, and you flush with warmth. He smiles at you as he leads you out of his apartment, locking the door with one hand before you head downstairs.

It’s warm and breezy, the air a perfect 75° outside, the wind just soft enough to sweep at your hair without messing it up. Spencer’s hand is still tangled with yours, and you can’t keep the smile off your face as he goes on some tangent about the differences between mallards and pintail ducks, because you’d just passed a pond and wondered why they looked so different.

You wish you were focusing, but god, you’re lost. So incredibly lost. Staring at his side profile, his brows raising and furrowing, his nose scrunching in that perfect way that makes you just want to bite it. He’s so animated, so enthusiastic about this, it’s a bit staggering.

You don't know when it happened, but now, looking up at him in this dreamy way, like he’s hardly real, like you’ve invented him to cover up the hurt from the meanness of those in your past, you’re sure of it.

You’re in love.

Somewhere between the way he reads to you and teaches you chess with all the patience in the world, between the way he remembers how you always take your coffee and kisses you first thing in the morning, between his warm linen sheets and the dusty scent of his books, you’ve fallen totally, completely in love.

And you don’t know why that invokes so much fear within you. Isn’t it a good thing, to fall in love with your boyfriend? To love him so wholly, so deeply, you aspire to learn the things he loves? To yearn for sameness, to relate to him, to keep up with his statistical rants about anything from the decline of leather-bound novels to the likelihood of walking past a serial killer without ever knowing it?

And then he looks down at you, notices the wistful, faraway look in your eyes as you just stare at him, and all he can do is laugh. He pulls you ever closer, pushes your hair back, and kisses your temple, and you positively melt. He’s so gentle with you, it almost hurts.

Then he’s tugging at your hand, and you look away from him for the first time since you arrived at the park. There’s a couple of tents set up along the path further ahead, and even though you groan through a laugh, Spencer looks so giddy, so excited, you can’t even think about ruining that. So you go along with him, his hand gently tugging at yours, before he stops at one tent towards the end.

Jewellry.

Spencer takes a while looking down at the display, before he picks up a simple gold necklace, a modest, tiny pink gemstone hanging off the chain. Spencer doesn’t hesitate before asking how much and pulling a twenty from his wallet.

You can’t tear your eyes from him. You feel like you haven’t so much as blinked in the last three minutes.

Spencer turns to you, the necklace hanging from his hand like it’s nothing more than a silly little trinket, and maybe it is. It’s probably some cheap, knockoff thing that’ll tarnish in a week, something that he paid far too much for, and you’re sure he knows that.

But he’s standing in front of you, holding it out with the sweetest, gentlest, most open expression you’ve ever seen on him.

And for that? The necklace might as well be twenty-four-carat gold and diamond-encrusted.

You blink at him, your brows furrowing upwards and eyes wide like a doe. “Do you want me to wear it?” you ask, sheepish and small and looking up at him like you’d give him the very earth itself if you could.

Spencer just smiles, all soft and warm and good. “I got it for you.” He shrugs, like this is nothing. Like it's casual and not like he’s holding your heart in his fist, like you trust him enough to not throttle it. “You can do whatever you want with it, angel.”

And, oh.

This is love. You’re certain of it. You’re so lost in the warmth of his eyes, the love pounding against your chest, that you don’t even notice the way he goes quiet, rigid, no longer looking at you, but through you. Like he heard something he wasn’t supposed to.

“Can you put it on me?”

Your soft voice breaks him from his trance, and immediately, the warmth returns to his gaze, his smile comes back so quickly it’s almost as if it never left. He nods, gently turning you around, and you pull your hair away from your neck.

Spencer is slow, reverent, as he drapes the chain around your neck. Careful as he clasps it. He even bends enough to press a soft, almost intangible kiss to your nape before stepping away.

And when you turn around, dropping your hair? Your palms go to his cheeks, clasping him like something precious between your hands, and you kiss him with all the love in the world.

All the love you’ve left unsaid.

You’re barely back inside his apartment when Spencer’s phone buzzes from its place in his bag.

You haven’t stopped toying with your necklace since he put it on you. The charm is almost glued to your fingers now; you’re unable to stop messing with it on your neck. It’s something so simple, but it feels like something more. Like something meaningful.

You’ve already seated yourself on his couch when he comes and plops beside you, a new, brighter grin on his face. “What was that, baby?” you ask softly, watching as he sets his phone face down on the coffee table.

“That was Garcia,” he smiles. “She invited us for drinks at Porter’s tonight.”

You blink. “She invited us, or she invited you?”

Spencer pauses, his hand momentarily ceasing its ministrations on your shoulder. “I mean, she invited me, and the team. But,” he sighs, turning to face you fully. “But, I think it would be nice. Introducing you to them.”

You inhale softly. “You sure? You don’t think it’s, like,” you glance down at your lap. “Too early?”

He shakes his head, his hand gently hooking under your chin to tilt your face up so he can look at you properly. “Angel, you already have a key to my place. I don’t think anything is ‘too early’ anymore.” His head tilts. “If you’re not ready to meet them, you know I wouldn’t force you to, right?” At your nod, he continues. “I would like for you to meet them. Really. They’re really important to me, and so are you. But if you don’t think you’re ready, or if you don’t want to, you don’t have to come. Or, I can stay home.”

Your eyes go wide, doelike and soft. Where on earth did this perfect man come from?

“Las Vegas,” he murmurs. You blink at him. He simply grins. “And I’m not perfect, sweetheart,” he turns bashful, his thumb gentle as it caresses your jaw.

“You’re so good,” you whisper, a whine in your voice. “Why- how are you so good?” You can’t help the tears that fill your waterline now, and Spencer immediately cradles you to his chest.

He shushes you softly. “I’m just normal, angel. I promise,” he chuckles. “I’m not doing anything that you don’t deserve.”

You sob impossibly harder.

“I would love to meet your friends, honey,” you pull away, your mascara smeared down your cheeks. Spencer’s hand comes up to cup your jaw, his thumb lightly brushing away the black smears from your skin like he’s doing something holy. Like he’s done it before, like he’d do it a thousand more times if you asked.

“You sure?” he whispers, careful, like if he speaks too loud this—you—might disappear. Like this is all some vivid dream he’s not quite convinced he deserves to wake up into.

You nod, just once. A little wobbly, but firm. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure, Spence.” Your fingers tug at the chain around your neck, the clasp digging gently into your skin. It stings, just a little. Just enough to feel real. To remind you, he gave it to you. Just today. That it means something. That Spencer is different.

“They’ll love you,” he smiles. He sounds so certain it almost breaks you in half. “I know they will.” You want to believe him. You want to let that live in your chest and take root. Because you’re not sure of much, really, but this? What you feel? It’s real. You know it’s real.

When he presses a kiss to your mascara-stained cheek, you close your eyes. Take it in. Take him in. He pulls away, looking at you warmly, openly, lovingly. “You can wear whatever you want. You don’t have to dress up,” he stands, his hand still warm where it’s clasped in yours. “We’re just going to a bar, and most of them are going straight from work.”

And maybe that’s exactly why you do want to dress up. You love Spencer. You want to make a good impression on his friends, his team, the people who keep him safe when he’s across the country chasing killers. Because you’re not just trying to impress them. You’re trying to seem enough.

In his bedroom, the light hangs low and golden and warm. Your dress hangs off your shoulders, and your hands tremble just slightly as you smooth it down again.

Spencer stands behind you, zipping you up with quiet hands and a look that could positively undo you. His touch settles at your hips, warm and grounding and real.

You study your reflection. “Is this okay, baby?” You catch his eyes in the mirror. Your voice is barely above a whisper, and you hate how small it sounds. How unsure. You can’t hide the way it trembles, the nerves that show through.

Spencer’s hands slide to your arms, trailing a path of fire before they cover your wrists, holding them steady. “Angel,” he whispers, turning you around gently. He looks at you like you’re an oasis in the middle of the driest of deserts. “You look beautiful.” He kisses you softly, tenderly. “I promise, they’re gonna love you. Please stop worrying.” His lips find that space between your eyebrows again, your glabella.

You know it means it. And that’s the worst part.

You’re still not used to someone holding you so closely, so gently, without an ounce of malice, of annoyance, of condescension.

You exhale shakily. You move your hands to the lapels of his blazer. Then to the knot of his tie. Then, finally resting them on his cheeks. Your eyes dart around his face, studying him like you haven’t already memorized the slope of his nose, the pink of his lips, the honey-brown warmth of his eyes.

Just in case. There’s a sinking in your gut you can’t explain. Let me remember you, it says, just in case.

“Thank you, honey.” You kiss him again, and when one of his hands finds the back of your head, you let him.

But then you sigh, pulling away. “If you ruin my hair, Dr. Reid, so help me,” you giggle, pressing a final kiss to his chin.

He chuckles softly. “I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” he grins before heading to the living room and pulling his messenger bag over his shoulder.

You grab your purse and glance one last time at your reflection. Not to fix anything, no. Just to see yourself. To pretend you might resemble someone worth loving in a room full of people who love him.

When you step into the living room, Spencer’s already waiting by the door, his hands wringing at the strap of his bag, his smile still impossibly wide.

He links your fingers with his again like it’s second nature. Like this is just what you do. Like you belong with him.

You pretend—for just a moment—that you do.

You know you’re nervous when you hardly remember the metro ride. Conversations blurred around you until they were nothing but mist in the background. Just the steady warmth of Spencer’s hand in yours, his thumb moving in slow, absent circles on your skin, like he was tracing something only he could see. You remember the vibration under your feet and the way he held you when you stumbled as the train stopped.

By the time you step off the train and into the buzz of the city night, the air is cool, crisp. There’s a dewy scent of rain on the horizon.

You don’t even remember the walk to the bar until Porter’s flashes in bright red neon.

Your pulse is back in your throat, and suddenly it all feels too fast. Too real.

The gentle tug on your hand has your head snapping to your left. Spencer’s brows are furrowed, his lips pressed together. “Just take a breath, angel.” His voice is soft, warm. His thumb runs tenderly across your hand again. “It’ll be fine. Like I said, they’ll love you. I promise,” and oh. Oh, he looks so earnest. So sure. You can’t help the nod, the shaky exhale, the way your shoulders straighten out.

You blink. Look over at him again, a small smile quirking at your painted lips. “Okay, baby. I’m ready.”

He grins like sunshine.

Porter’s is busy; not packed, but there are enough patrons to have the bartenders ignoring attempts at conversation.

Spencer grins widely as a group of six, all settled around a circular booth, waves him over. His hand stays locked with yours until you get closer—then, he places it on the small of your back.

Their smiles start to… well. They falter, a bit, when they notice it. His hand, warm and steady on your back. You expected to surprise them, sure, but… You figured that for FBI profilers, they’d be a little better at hiding their shock.

And that means they’re not hiding it. They’re not trying to. If you can see their confusion, their surprise, their—is it discomfort?—then it’s intentional.

And that’s what stings the most. That this sudden tension, the glances, the raised brows, all point to you not fitting in.

They’re not impressed.

Spencer hardly notices it, though. You think it must be because he’s been so excited, but… really, how doesn’t he notice it? It’s like all the oxygen in the room has been sucked out, leaving six pairs of eyes staring at you like you’re other, like you don’t belong.

The blonde with wide eyes smiles at you, but it’s the kind that feels practiced, calculating. You’ve seen it before, more times than you can even remember.

The man next to her—broad, confident, handsome—raises a brow, his glass of whiskey stopping by his lip. He tilts his head when his eyes lower, meeting Spencer’s hand on your back.

Then the third woman, dark hair, a sharp gaze, pursed lips. God, she looks like Spencer when he’s trying to solve a crossword. You hate it, being studied like a puzzle yet to be solved.

And then Spencer says their names, and suddenly, for a moment, it clicks. “This is JJ, Morgan, Blake, Hotch, Rossi, and Garica.” Names you’ve only ever heard in fond little stories, in memories over takeout containers and sleepy mornings in bed.

You take a breath, willing yourself to breathe again. Your eyes land steadily on Garcia—Penelope. She’s already standing to hug you, her arms outstretched and a grin on her face. Spencer had described her as glitter and joy personified, and you can’t disagree. You think you love her already. “Oh my god, you’re real!” you giggle, “I was so sure Spence made you up!”

Penelope laughs with you, her hug warm and inviting, and you can’t help melting into it. She smells nice; like coconut and vanilla and citrus. You squeeze her back before pulling away, and her eyes are crinkled behind her wide pink glasses. “Oh, honey, I’m so real! But who are you, gorgeous? The Good Doctor’s been hiding you away from us!”

You smile shyly up at Spencer, watching as his hand returns to your back. “Uh, guys,” he glances down at you, all softness, before looking back at them. “This is my girlfriend.”

He says your name with reverence, dripping in pure affection, and the mood shifts yet again. Even Garcia freezes from her place next to you.

You wave timidly at them. “Hi,” you smile. “Spencer’s told me loads about you guys. He really loves you all, I can tell.”

And… there’s silence. JJ, Morgan, and Blake blink in unison. Like they’re sizing you up. Surprised in the worst way.

Your fingers reach up to your necklace again, gently pulling at it, tucking the charm between your digits again and again. You smooth your dress, tug it down. Maybe it’s too short? You bite your lip, check your posture, standing up straight. You hold back a sigh. You want to be enough. For them. For him.

JJ smiles a little softer, now. Her eyes more forgiving, just a fraction. “It’s so nice to meet you,” she says. “What do you do?” she asks, scooching over on the bench. Spencer slides in first, then pats the space next to him. You squeeze onto the seat, and try to ignore the warm weight of his hand settling on your knee.

“I work in a flower shop,” you say softly. Blake’s eyes brighten a bit at that, and she unclasps her hands.

“You’re a florist?” she presses, taking a sip of her margarita.

You shrug. “I guess, that’s what my nametag says,” you laugh softly, folding your hands in your lap, fingers fidgeting beneath the table. “But I dunno if I’m like, a real florist. I just do the arrangements.”

Spencer squeezes your thigh gently. You do your best to ignore it.

Blake’s eyes dull again, just slightly. “So, how did you two meet?”

You feel underwater. Your hearing is muffled, you can barely hear the sweet story Spencer’s retelling, of when he walked into your flower shop and you giggled and handed him the store’s card with your number scribbled on the back.

You can’t tear your eyes away from the surface of the table. You try to control your breathing. Keep the tears at bay.

You’re being ridiculous. Absurd. Your insecurities are making you paranoid; you know it. This happens all the time.

But then Spencer’s lightly shaking your knee, his head tilted low enough to catch your gaze. His eyes are worried. You grin at him. “Sorry, what was that, honey?”

He furrows his brows. “I asked what you wanted to drink, angel.”

Your mouth opens, then closes again. “Um,” you bite your lip, looking around the table at everyone’s drinks. Your eyes land on Garcia’s. “Penelope?” you prompt, and her head snaps over to you.

“Yeah?” She looks happy, a little buzzed.

“What’re you drinking?” you ask, nodding at her glass.

She grins widely. “Oh, sweetness,” she stands, holding out a hand for you. “Only the most delicious frozen strawberry daiquiri you’ll ever have! Come on,” she wiggles her fingers at you. “I’m due for a refill anyway, let’s go!”

You blink at her before taking her hand; it’s soft, and she closes it around yours in a way that feels so warm, so comforting. You barely get off the bench before she’s practically dragging you towards the bar.

She orders two frozen strawberry daiquiris, giving the bartender a flirty wink and an “extra pink, thanks, babe!”, before turning to you. “Oh my god, I need to know,” she says, gripping your shoulders like a lifeline. “How long have you and Einstein been together?”

You blink. “Um,” you furrow your brows. “Like, two-ish months, I think?”

Her face blanches, and suddenly, everything feels too fast, too sudden, like it’s the wrong answer, even though it’s not. You swallow your paranoia. “Spencer could probably tell you, like, the actual day, if you ask him. He’s really good with that stuff,” you add on, your voice low, a shy, proud little smile curling at your lips. He really is good with that stuff. Remembering the important things. Even something as simple as your favourite takeout place or the way you take your tea.

She pouts at you, her eyes softening, like she’s trying to make sense of what she’s hearing. It’s almost like she’s worried for you, like she feels sorry for you, but you can’t quite figure out why. “Oh, honey,” she sighs, collecting you into a hug you’re too confused to return. “I’m so sorry.” Her arms are too tight, too warm around you. You just stand there, stiff and unsure why everything feels so off.

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean, sorry?” you frown, your stomach doing a nervous little flip. “Everything’s been great. Spencer’s, like, sunshine in human form,” you try to laugh, but it comes out quiet, timid.

She sighs heavily, like she’s carrying a too-heavy weight on her shoulders, and then looks at you like she’s afraid to ask. “But… you don’t think this is, like, really soon?” She furrows her brows softly. “He doesn’t think so?”

You shake your head, confusion knitting your brows. You pull away from her grasp gently, suddenly feeling exposed in a way you didn’t before. “Penelope, what do you mean? Why would it be too soon?” You cross your arms over your chest, vulnerability eating at you. “Like… like me meeting you guys? ‘Cause I was worried about that, ‘cause it felt like, really early. But Spence said it was okay, ‘cause… like, I already have a key to his place, and I’m there, like, all the time, so—”

Penelope’s gasp is so sharp, so dramatic, that she covers her mouth with both hands in complete shock. “Oh. My. God!” Her eyes are nearly as wide as the frames of her glasses. “No- You- What?! You have a key? To his apartment?”

You nod slowly, and for some reason, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re saying the wrong thing. “Yeah? He gave it to me, like, a week or so ago,” you add, hoping it doesn’t sound as bad as you’re starting to feel it is.

And Penelope? Oh. She shifts like ice in the Arctic. Cold and imposing. You don’t think she even catches it, but she’s looking at you like you’re the villain in a story you didn’t even know existed. “That’s… so soon, sweetness.” Her eyes soften only slightly, and there’s a sympathetic lilt to her voice that feels less inviting and more pitiful. “What about Maeve?”

And you pause. Blink at her a couple of times, unsure if you’re dreaming, the weight of her words pressing on your chest. She stares at you, awaiting an answer. One you don’t have. “I-” you hesitate, like the words are too heavy to lift from your throat. “Who’s Maeve?”

Penelope frowns, her nose going red as though she can’t bear to see you confused. “Oh, honey,” she sighs, pulling you into her arms again, like she’s trying to shield you from the pain of her words. “Maeve was,” she starts, then pauses. “I feel like Reid- Spencer, should be the one to tell you.” She shakes her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. She pulls away from the hug, her hands still lingering on your arms.

You keep a trembling hand on her wrist. “Clearly, he never told me anything. Who’s Maeve?” you ask again, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “Is he-... Is he seeing someone else?”

You don’t want to be the fool again. Not again, not with Spencer. You swore he was different.

Penelope shakes her head, her arms smoothing over your shoulders in a calming motion. It doesn’t work. “No, no. Not at all, honey,” she whispers softly. She’s so… soft with you now. Her hands caress your shoulders like a mother comforting a child, explaining something you can hardly understand. “Maeve was Spencer’s girlfriend. They dated for, like, almost a year,” Penelope adds quietly, like she’s treading carefully around a wound that’s still raw.

That gives you pause. A year? That’s… serious. You feel the weight of its importance, like you’re not measuring up somehow. But Spencer’s not required to tell you about all of his past relationships, right? You know you haven't told him about yours, either.

But then Penelope sighs. “She died four months ago.” And the world goes still. You freeze, like the air’s been sucked right oout of your lungs. “She was kidnapped by her stalker, and she got shot. Right,” she pauses, swallowing hard. Her voice cracks as she continues, like she’s holding back her own pain. “Right in front of Spencer.”

And it’s there. A slow death, you can feel it creeping up on you. Your heart starts to melt against your ribs like thick, sticky honey. It burns you from the inside out, like acid; hot and relentless. “So,” your voice trembles, barely above a whisper. “So… I’m what?” You look into Penelope’s eyes, searing desperately for something to hold on to, but all you see is a deep, profound sadness. “I’m, like, a rebound?”

You wait. Penelope is silent. Her lips part, like there’s something she wants to say, to comfort you, to tell you no, he really loves you, but… She doesn’t. And when you see the minuscule shake of her head, you break.

You shatter like glass, like crystal. Like you’re fragmented in tiny shards scattered across the sticky bar floor, and suddenly, Porter’s is too bright. Too loud. Too much.

The sob escapes you before you can stop it, crawling up your throat and across your tongue like bile. You cover your mouth with your hand, tears freely spilling down your cheeks relentlessly.

Penelope’s lip wobbles as she watches you push past her and run down the back hall, before hearing the slam of the ladies’ room door.

She stands there, still and frozen.

What did she just do…?

Her gaze slowly moves to the table. Nobody has turned around, nobody has noticed a thing. Spencer’s laughing at something JJ says, and the guilt gnaws at Penelope like a plague.

You stumble into the bathroom like a storm, leaning your back against the door like you can hardly hold yourself up on your own, your legs shaky and trembling like a fawn taking her first steps.

The bathroom lights are harsh, fluorescent, and unforgiving. You catch sight of yourself in the mirror and recoil like you’ve seen a ghost. Your mascara is smeared down your cheeks, bleeding down to your jaw, inked like grief itself has manifested onto your skin.

Your lipgloss is mostly gone—just a faint shimmer clinging to the dip of your cupid’s bow, like it’s trying to hold on for you.

You can’t help the way you begin to sway, dizzy as your knees nearly buckle in your heels. You grip the sink like it might hold you upright, like you’re not actively falling apart. But the second you meet your own eyes again, something inside you cracks.

You can’t look at yourself.

You can’t look at her—the girl stupid enough to think she was someone’s forever, not just a placeholder for a ghost.

You stumble into a stall and lock the door behind you, the click too loud in this stifling silence. You sit down hard on the toilet lid, burying your face in your hands as the sobs come back with a vengeance.

You feel like a fool. You’d really thought Spencer was different.

You wish he was here.

You wish he wasn’t.

Penelope shudders a breath, wobbling back to the table with two frozen strawberry daiquiris in hand. Her smile is long gone, her face pale and blotchy and tear-stained. Her eyes are red behind her glasses.

She sets the glasses down on the table like she doesn’t know what else to do with her hands.

JJ’s brows knit together. “Garcia?” She leans forward from her seat. “Are you okay?”

But Spencer’s looking over his shoulder, eyes darting around for you. He’s already standing when he notes your absence, like a string inside him has been pulled too tight, too restrictive, too wrong. “Garcia?” he asks, his voice shaky and low. “Where is she? What happened?”

Penelope’s lip wobbles. She wrings her fingers together, avoiding his eyes. “I didn’t mean to,” she whispers. “I swear, I didn’t mean to—I just, I thought she knew, I thought you told her, and I—Spencer, I’m so sorry—”

Spencer’s heart drops to his gut. His mouth goes dry. “Told her what?” Penelope doesn’t answer. He takes a step closer, his throat going tight, his voice sharper now. “Penelope, what did you say?”

Her silence says everything. Her guilt fills the blanks. She shakes her head weakly at him, her hands coming up, her mouth opening and closing like she doesn’t know what to say. She sniffles.

Spencer’s eyes go wide. “Penelope,” he breathes out, horrified. His irises dart around her face. “What did you say to her?”

Penelope’s mouth opens, closes, opens again. No words come out. Her face crumbles as she looks at the man in front of her. Her own words play back in her head, your reaction playing like a film sheet behind her eyes. She collapses next to Morgan on the bench, tucking herself into the booth. “Bathroom,” she mutters softly, like a confession. Like it hurts.

Her glasses come off in one swift, clumsy motion as she covers her face with both hands. She’s wiping her tears, covering her guilt, trying to hide from the shame of what she’s done.

Spencer’s gone before anyone can even fully comprehend what’s just happened.

He doesn’t walk, he runs, tearing through the bar like it’s life or death, like he might already be too late. His heart’s in his throat, hammering loud against his ribs, and he doesn’t care who sees, doesn’t care how crazy he must look.

He just needs to find you. Needs to explain, to defend, to apologize.

Maeve’s ghost hovers over his shoulder like a curse.

There’s an incessant banging at the door to the bathroom.

You think it must be him—who else would knock on the door to a public restroom?

You do all you can to ignore it; you cover your ears, tucking your face as far into your lap as you can. Try to block it out. Block him out.

But then the door opens, and frazzled footsteps rush into the bathroom until they stop in front of the locked door of your stall. You can see his brown oxfords standing in front of the door. “Angel,” he whispers, slightly out of breath. “Please open the door… please?”

You inhale shakily, holding your hands tighter over your ears. You don’t want to hear him, his excuses, his lies.

“Go away,” you murmur, tears coating your voice, your throat clenching tight. “I don’t want to see you.”

Spencer sighs, crouching in front of the door. “Sweetheart, let me in, please. I don’t know what Garcia told you,” he knows it’s a lie. “But you have to believe me. I want you. Only you. I swear it.”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to hear more lies, Spencer.” You swallow a sob. “I know about Maeve.”

Spencer’s heart stops in his chest. “It- It’s not what you think,” he tries, his voice thick with tears he feebly attempts to hold back. But then you sniffle harshly, from under the door he sees you stand, planting your heels on the tile. He stays crouching, swiping at his red-rimmed eyes.

You open the door just a crack, eyes catching sight of his lowered form. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Your voice is quiet, pained, tight. Spencer raises his head, meets your eyes. You look ruined. Makeup smeared, eyes red and puffy, lips bitten red and swollen.

He hates that he’s made you look like this. He hates that he still thinks you look gorgeous. Like a tragedy, beautiful and broken and raw.

“I,” he hesitates, eyes never leaving yours. He swallows. “I’m sorry,” he sighs simply.

Your face crumples again, and Spencer’s brows knit tight. His eyes stay locked on the way you tuck your lip between your teeth to hold in a sob, like he’s never seen anything more beautiful than the way you fall apart. “You should’ve told me,” you whimper, sniffling. “It’s not fair, Spence.”

He flinches at the crack in your voice. He bows his head. “I know,” he murmurs. “I know I should’ve, I’m so sorry, angel.” He can’t help the way he leans forward, just enough to rest his forehead against the softness of your tummy.

Your hand cards through his hair like you don’t hate him, like you never could, and it breaks you even more. This was a betrayal. You can’t forget that, even if the softness of his curls feels like home between your fingers. “Was I just a rebound for you?”

Your question is broken, tearful, and your chest stutters with a breath. Spencer’s head lifts slowly from your middle. He swallows. “No,” he breathes out, the word like acid on his tongue. His eyes are slow to meet your gaze. “No, angel. Never.”

Your eyes close, a shaky exhale exiting your nose as you purse your lips. “Then why didn’t you tell me?” You remove your hand from his hair, crossing your arms over your chest.

You’re closing off. Spencer stands from his crouch, his left knee clicking as it extends. He wrings his hands to prevent himself from reaching out for you. “I should’ve.”

You just shake your head, lifting your chin to eye him steadily. “I asked why, Spencer. Why didn’t you tell me about her if I wasn’t a rebound, a replacement?”

He swallows, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. “I don’t know. I think I was still…” he shrugs meekly. “Hurting, I guess.”

Your arms fall to your sides. “I could’ve helped you.”

Spencer lowers his head, shaking it roughly. “No, you couldn’t.” His eyes squeeze shut. He swears there’s a cold spot on the centre of his back, like someone’s staring into him, through him. He tries desperately to ignore her presence. “I never really dealt with it, I just wanted to move on. And,” he raises his head again, his eyes pained as he looks at you. “I did. I started to. With you.”

He reaches out his arm, his shaky hand settling softly on your elbow. You sigh, setting your gaze to the floor, but you don’t pull away from him. Spencer thinks it’s a small win. He tests the waters by taking a small step closer, invading your space, and his heart thrums in his chest when you let him.

You can’t hold it back. You want to hate him. You want to hurt him, like he’s hurt you. You thought you’d finally found it, your forever, the man who would treat you like you’re something worthy of love, of respect, of kindness. Who doesn’t criticize your curiosity, but who lets it thrive, who answers your questions softly, with reverence in his voice, with love in the way he holds you.

You thought he was different. You really did. But you think it’s fitting, really. To still love him, even now, even after he’s shattered your heart in your chest, even after he’s killed you from the inside out.

You collapse into his chest, and Spencer doesn’t hesitate before wrapping his arms around you, holding you tightly, like he’s holding your very form together. Like if he so much as loosens his grip, you’ll break apart into tiny pieces on this dirty bathroom floor.

His lips go to your hair, his hand cradling the back of your head. He can feel the way the sobs wrack through your body, the way they shake against him, your form trembling as you fist the fabric of his cardigan, needing something to keep you grounded in reality—to keep you out of your head.

“I thought you were different,” you sob, broken and pained and whimpering into his shoulder. Spencer freezes. “I thought you wouldn’t hurt me. Not like them, not like before.”

He opens his mouth, but he can’t find the words. How does he respond to that? To your wailing of grief, of betrayal? Of admitting you’d believed in magic just to find out it was all sleight of hand? How does he acknowledge being the source of your pain, of hurting you so wholly that your knees buckle under the weight of it?

He doesn’t know. So he just holds you impossibly tighter, rocking your trembling form in his arms as he tries to find some way to fix this mess he’s caused.

You’re silent for too long. No longer sobbing, just quiet sniffling as you bury your head in Spencer’s chest, no doubt staining his cardigan with your makeup. He doesn’t care.

You pull back slightly, hands still fisted in the fabric. “I want to go home.” Your voice is quiet, raspy, like your throat itself is protesting you talking to him.

Spencer nods, petting your hair down softly. “Okay,” he whispers back. His gaze catches yours before you lower your eyes to his chest again, your hand instinctively going to wipe at the smudge of mascara. Your brow furrows, and your eyes fill with tears again as your thumb rubs at the stain, just to smear it around. Spencer gently wraps his hand around your wrist, and your eyes snap up to meet his. “It’s okay,” he nods softly. “Please don’t worry about it, angel.”

You sniffle again before pulling away, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I want to go home, Spence,” you murmur again. He nods, holding a hand out for you.

You don't take it, don't even look at it, averting your gaze to the floor again.

Spencer sighs, blinking away tears before he’s opening the door to the bathroom, and following you out.

He doesn’t touch you, even though his hand is hovering over your back, your head down as you stand by the front door. Spencer swallows roughly, grabbing his bag off the bench of the booth, avoiding the eyes of his team, who watch him silently.

Hotch’s eyes stay steady on the black stain on the front of Spencer’s cardigan, Garcia’s still got her hands on her face, and JJ is looking at you; small and feeble and shy, and still shaking with tears as you wait for Spencer. He holds the door open for you, whispers something to you as you both exit, and JJ heaves a sigh, taking a gulp of her drink. She and Blake share a look.

The back of the cab is quiet. Uncomfortable, stifling, suffocating silence. You’re seated on opposite ends of the backseat, Spencer’s eyes on you, your gaze out the window.

When the driver pulls up to Spencer’s apartment block, your brows furrow, your eyes going to Spencer, who’s already climbing out the door and opening yours. “I said home, Spencer,” you frown, ignoring his hand. “I don’t want to be here. I want to go home.”

Spencer flinches. “Please, angel. Just for tonight? So we can talk?”

You heave a sigh, glaring at him as you slap away his hand, stepping out of the yellow car and walking past him and into the building.

Spencer exhales, his hands wringing tightly on the strap of his messenger bag before following you up the stairs. You’ve already unlocked the door with your key and slumped onto his couch, sniffling as you lean down to take off your heels.

He doesn’t bother removing his bag from his shoulder, just closes and locks the door before rounding the couch and sitting on the coffee table, gently taking your foot and tucking it into his lap. His fingers undo the strap around your ankle, his hands slow as they pull off the offending shoe. He does the same for the other foot, then stands, picking up your heels as he heads back to the entrance to place them down beside his beat-up old converse.

Spencer hangs up his messenger bag, toes off his oxfords, and looks over at you.

You’re curled up on the couch, tucked into the corner, arms around your knees. Your gaze is fixed on one of his bookshelves, brows furrowed, lips pressed tightly together. Like you’re trying to understand something, trying to solve a puzzle he can’t see.

Spencer slowly makes his way over, sits cautiously beside you, his eyes following yours to the shelf. He doesn’t know if the book you’re staring at is the one his eyes are drawn to immediately, but he tears his gaze away like it’s burned him.

The Narrative of John Smith sits like a ghost on his shelf, its very presence mocking what Spencer’s tried so hard to build with you.

“I don’t know how to get over this,” you mutter softly.

Spencer looks up at you to find your eyes already on him. You shake your head gently, like the small motion of it is just too much. “I don’t know how to move on, now.”

He swallows, tucking his feet up under his legs. “I know.” His hands wring in his lap. “I don’t either. I just know that I want you.”

You scoff, avert your eyes. “If you did, you would’ve told me about her. Now you’ve just made me feel like an idiot,” you sigh. “Again.”

His lips turn, the corners of his mouth pulled into a pout. “Again?”

You sniffle again, shrugging. “I told you. I thought you were different. I thought,” you sigh, raising your head to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t know.”

Spencer tilts his head. “You say that a lot,” he notes. “‘I don’t know’. Like you’re afraid to say what you’re thinking. Like you’re expecting to be wrong, or dismissed. Or left,” he catches your eyes when your head snaps back to his. “And I hate that. I hate that someone taught you to apologize for existing, for being curious, for not knowing. And I…” he sighs, blinking at you, his expression soft and gentle and guilt-ridden. “I hate that I did that, too. To you.”

You swallow a sob, your eyes going wide.

Spencer scooches a little bit closer to you, just enough that your knees knock against his. “I should’ve told you about…” He tries to say her name. His tongue freezes, paralyzed.

“About Maeve,” you whisper. Spencer tries to hide his flinch, like hearing you say her name is wrong. Like the mixing of these two aspects of his life shouldn’t be happening.

He nods jerkily. “About Maeve,” he tries to ignore the way his voice catches on the word. “I’m sorry that I didn’t.”

You nod, tucking your lip between your teeth. “I know you are,” you glance sidelong at him. “I know.”

Spencer exhales shakily. “And I’m sorry Garcia told you.”

“I’m not.” Your voice is shockingly steady as you say it. You shrug when he looks at you. “If she didn’t, I don’t know how long it would’ve been before you did. Honestly, Spencer,” you turn to face him. “Would you have ever even told me?”

He wants to nod, to tell you he would’ve, but he swears he can see her brown hair in the corner of the room, stalking, watching, waiting. His mouth opens, but no words come out.

You wait. And then sigh heavily. “You’re not okay,” you murmur. “I can’t help you, you were right.”

And then you stand from the couch, head into his bedroom, and close the door.

Spencer hears rummaging, the sound of his drawers being opened and closed, then his shower starts, and he buries his face in his hands. Rubs his palms aggressively over his cheeks, pushing his hair away from his forehead.

He stands, peeling the cardigan off. He holds it out, his eyes locked on the black stain that’s, ironically enough, just over his heart. He exhales softly before putting it into the dirty laundry hamper in his bedroom. The bathroom door is closed, the sound of the shower muffled behind it.

He sighs. Drags his feet into the kitchen to start the kettle. His hands move on autopilot: setting the kettle onto the stove, the soft clanging of your mug and his being pulled out of the cupboard, just like always. He freezes when his fingers close around the handle of your pink strawberry mug. It looks like something Garcia would’ve picked out. Too bright, too bubbly, too you. His heart skips a beat.

You were right. God, you were right. He wouldn’t have said anything; not now, maybe not ever. He would’ve stayed silent, keeping you blissfully unaware. You would’ve never found out about Maeve had Garcia not told you anything. The guilt eats at him, gnawing on his chest like a disease, spreading through his ribs like rot.

His hands tremble as he sets it down on the counter beside his. The ceramic clinks too loudly in the silence. He rocks his head back and forth, like he can shake the memories out.

When he opens his eyes, he swears she’s there. Just there, at the edge of his vision, he catches a glimpse of her sweater. He pours the water from the kettle into your mug. It’s all he can do to stop himself from shouting at a ghost.

She haunts these walls—ones she’s never once stepped into. It drives him mad.

Spencer’s sitting on the couch with his hands in his lap and his head bowed when you re-enter the room.

He looks up as the couch dips beneath your weight. You settle in the opposite corner, as far as you can be while still sharing the same space. Spencer clears his throat, rubs his palms nervously over the tops of his thighs. “I made you tea,” he whispers.

You blink. Your strawberry mug sits neatly on an orange slice coaster. He reaches for his, and you see the grapefruit one under it. Your throat goes tight again.

You don’t want to cry again. You refuse to.

You sigh. “I didn’t really want any tea.” Your lips press together as you curl further into your corner. “But thanks anyway.”

Spencer flinches. It’s barely noticeable, just a twitch. But of course you catch it. There’s nothing about this man you don’t notice.

Or so you thought.

Because now he’s staring at you.

Or, not quite; he’s staring through you.

You swallow hard. How many times has this happened before without you noticing? Without knowing he was haunted? Broken? Grieving someone you never knew existed. Mourning the woman you replaced.

You avert your gaze again. You can’t keep looking at your boyfriend while he stares through you, at the woman he lost. “Spencer,” you say, quiet yet sharp. It snaps him out of his trance.

His eyes dart to the side of your face. His brows pull together, unsure, almost pleading. He swallows roughly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, setting his mug down. “You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to,” he chews on his lip, shrugging. “I just… I thought you might want it. Like…” he trails off.

You know what he was going to say, anyway. Like every other night. Like routine. But if he thinks you’re about to cuddle up to him while he reads to you, he’s sorely mistaken.

But then you look at him. Just once. And he looks so broken, you can’t bring yourself to say it.

So you stand, slowly, achingly, like just leaving him there is enough to hurt. “I’m tired,” you mutter softly. Spencer’s eyes track your movement. He untucks a leg, like he’s about to follow you like some lost, desperate puppy. You hold up a hand. “I’d like to be alone for a bit. You brought me here,” you can’t help the narrowing of your eyes. “The least you could do is let me have that.”

Spencer gulps, sinks back into the couch with a jerky nod. “Of course,” he whispers. He doesn’t look away, not even when his bedroom door clicks shut behind you.

He turns back around, squeezing his eyes shut. He scrubs at his cheeks, as if trying to wipe the grief and guilt from his skin itself.

There’s rustling behind the door. Spencer pictures you crawling into his bed. He wonders if you’re cuddling his pillow, like you always do when he leaves for work in the morning.

Then he figures you’ve probably thrown it off the bed. The thought tugs harshly at his chest.

He sighs, pulling the throw blanket off the back of the couch and wraps it around his shoulders. He sits in silence, his mind running too loud, too fast, for even him to keep up.

There’s a chill to his left. He doesn’t open his eyes. Doesn’t want to face the visible manifestation of his guilt, his grief.

Spencer doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting there. The tea cools in both mugs; the steam rising and fading, like breathing out a ghost. His apartment is too quiet. Too silent to have you just in the next room. Too quiet for a mind like his. It feels wrong. Suffocating. Smothering. His lungs ache like he’s drowning in it.

It’s been hours. Two cups of lavender tea, three hours lost in casefiles and novels and poetry, and none of it has helped him sleep. It hurts even more when he realizes it’s because you’re not there beside him.

Spencer stands with a quiet groan, dragging himself to his bookshelf. He stares at it, needing something else. Anything to get him to sleep, anything to quiet his thoughts, even if just for a moment.

He doesn’t mean for his eyes to go to it. Doesn’t even realize his hand’s already reaching, already pulling it off the shelf. His mind doesn’t catch up to reality until Spencer’s already sitting on the couch with The Narrative of John Smith open on his lap. Maeve’s handwriting stares back at him from the first page.

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone—we find it with another.”

The tears come before he even realizes he’s crying.

Spencer’s vision comes back slowly, like waking from a dream, walking out of a fog, seeing past the haze. He blinks, looking down at the book in his hands. He sets it down on the coffee table—careful, like it burns to so much as hold it.

He gulps. Two books sit side-by-side. Two mugs, four coasters.

He sighs, lying back on the couch. He listens, but the bedroom stays silent.

You wake early. So early that not even the sun is up, the birds aren’t even singing, and the stars are still twinkling in the darkness. You lie on your back, staring at the ceiling in silence. It’s so quiet here, the only sound is the crickets chirping softly outside the window.

You sit up, heaving your legs over the side of his bed with a heavy sigh. This room… you’ll miss it. It’s warm, comfortable. Smells like old books and clean linen and him.

Spencer.

Just the thought of him has you holding back tears again.

You shake your head, trying to push away your impending grief, and stand slowly. You open the drawer he’s dedicated to you, your hands trembling as you dress yourself. You avoid your reflection as you take the rest of your clothing out of the drawer and shove it into your bag. You grab your toothbrush and your makeup bag.

And you take one mismatched set of socks from his drawer.

You’re slow, quiet, as you creak open the bedroom door, your bag slung over your shoulder. You peek over to the couch. Spencer’s stretched out, long limbs draping over the armrest. His brow is pinched, mouth slightly agape, but he’s asleep.

You exhale a sigh of relief. Your eyes catch sight of the coasters—your coasters. Bright, vibrant, fruit slice circles of ceramic. They still look out of place. Still don’t belong here.

You can’t bring yourself to take them with you. They brighten up this warm, cozy space, this place that they just don’t fit in. You’ve related to them since you brought them over.

Oh well.

Spencer can decide what to do with them. You try to ignore the stinging in your chest when you imagine him throwing them out.

With a reluctant turn, you silently slip on your shoes, tug on your jacket, and sling your purse over your shoulder beside your bag.

You don’t leave a note. You wouldn’t know what to say.

You exhale as you crack the front door open quietly, allowing yourself just one last glance around the apartment.

You’ll miss it.

You close the door gently behind you, careful not to let it click. Your hands shake as you lock it, fingers trembling as you remove the key from your keyring. You slide it under the door. It catches on the floorboard for a second, then disappears into his apartment. Like it never belonged to you in the first place.

Your fingers go to the tiny pink gemstone on your neck. You tug at it gently. Rest your fingertips over the chain in something not unlike reverence, before lowering your hand.

You straighten your shoulders. You don’t look back.

Spencer wakes sluggishly. Like his body’s not quite his, his limbs tired and heavy. When he finally manages to sit up, he blinks the sleep out of his eyes. The door to his bedroom is open; he can see his bed made neatly. Too neatly.

He glances to the kitchen, expecting to see you standing at the counter, humming, pouring coffee into your favourite mug and smiling over at him, like you always do, every morning. But it’s empty.

Spencer’s brow furrows, knitting together tightly. He calls your name, soft, then louder. His voice shakes.

He rises slowly, like lost in a dream, his gaze drifting to the door.

Your shoes are gone, leaving his beat-up old converse and scuffed oxfords alone by the door. Your jacket’s not hung up beside his on the hooks. Your purse is missing from where you always hung it in front of his messenger bag.

Spencer rounds the couch, his hands trembling, panic rearing its ugly head, fear clawing at his chest. “Angel?” he tries again, his voice softer now. “Sweetheart, please… please answer me,” he whimpers, his throat going tight.

His gaze drifts down to the floor, like he’s hoping, just for a moment, that he’s wrong. That his peripheral was lying to him.

It shines, like some cruel joke, where it rests on the hardwood, the first rays of dawn catching it.

The spare key. The one he gave you. The one he thought meant home.

It gleams from the floor, tossed carelessly, just in front of the front door, like you’d locked it and slid it under the threshold when you’d left.

Left.

He doesn’t even know when you left. Doesn’t know if it was hours ago or mere minutes, but the air still feels thick with your absence.

Spencer stumbles, almost collapsing to the floor beside that key. The key to his home. To his heart. The key you’d left behind.

He staggers back to the couch, eyes hollow, locking onto the coffee table. Your coasters. And your mug. Just… sitting there.

You’d left them.

He swallows his sobs, choking on the grief that’s clawing its way up his throat. They look so bright. Too bright. Out of place here, in the dim silence of his apartment. You were, too. You brought a brightness to this warm, cozy place. One he didn’t know he needed until you’d taken it away. Like the sun setting, sinking slowly beneath the horizon, leaving nothing but a cold darkness in its wake. An emptiness he can’t escape.

Spencer reaches for the book left beside them. Flips it open to page 639 like muscle memory.

The Cyrillic stares back at him. He can hardly make it out through the tears clouding his vision. His voice cracks as he forces the quote out—the one he had meant to read to you just last night—his memory carrying him.

“I can't say it in a more orderly and comprehensible way. I love you wildly, insanely, infinitely.”

He breaks down into a lump of broken sobs on his couch, clutching the red leather-bound novel to his chest like it’s the only thing holding him together.

This is it. Doctor Zhivago, bright fruit slice coasters, and a strawberry mug. It’s all he has left of you, when he never thought he’d have to face the reality of life without you again.

Your absence chokes him like a vice.

The air turns frigid; Spencer feels like he’s wrapped in a sudden chill, like the warmth that was in his chest is being stolen from his soul itself.

He won’t open his eyes—refuses to. He won’t face this ghost that haunts him, keeps him broken, that pushed you away. He can’t look at her brown hair and warm sweater and blood on her cheek.

He just hugs the novel closer to his chest and mourns once more, wailing his grief into the air like pain personified is being ripped from his chest, leaving him hollow, empty, alone.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #reid ✧˖*°࿐#mine ✧˖*°࿐

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bbrissonn · 21 days ago

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 - 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐧 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ synopsis: in which you see quinn for the first time since he left for vancouver at your best friend's wedding

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ warning: angst, , arguing, two stupid teenages in love and then two stupid adults in love, swearing, lots of eyes going wide in the first part im so sorry abt that omg, and then lots of people sighing in the second half i cant 😭 NOT PROOF READ

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ disclaimer: i dont know where the tkachuck's wedding actually took place, but for the purpose of this story im just gonna say it was in michigan

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ wc: 10.3k

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ would love to do a part 2 of some of you would be interested in that !!

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ a/n: sorta based of off "the winner takes it all" but the mamma mia verson because it's simply too good. and i was gonna give this a sad ending, but i just couldn't so the end is like not really based on the song

════ ⋆fall 2017⋆ ════

➻❥ ann arbor, mich

you were currently standing in the middle of frat house, drink in hand, as you watched your friends get picked up by guys left and right. but you didn't mind it, you weren't here to find the love of your life or spend time with meaningless hookups, you were here to get your degree. guys occasionally came up to you, but they all had that same smirk on their faces, that 'i want to get laid' smirk, and their cheesy pick up lines.

you always turned them down. you weren't interested in the hookup culture, especially with a bunch of asshole who wouldn't bother to remember your name. and you weren't actively looking for a boyfriend either, you were just living your life, focusing on school, and you were content with that.

but that all changed that night. the first time your eyes met, he was standing with a couple of guy friends who looked like they were having quite an intense discussion. but all his attention was on you. you pretended not to feel his eyes at first, thinking he was just another hopeless guy trying to take someone home. but eventually, you caved and looked over at him.

the second your eyes met with his, they grew wide as he quickly looked away from you, a small pinkish colour taking over his cheek. you ignored it at first, trying to focus on what your friend was saying, but your eyes kept drifting his way. and every time they landed on him, his were already looking at you. but that never lasted long, always growing wide and looking away like he kept getting caught. like he didn't want you to know that he was looking, and every time you did catch up, he grew more and more embarrassed.

at some point, it was his eyes that met his, and he froze. this wasn't supposed to happen. he was supposed to be the one staring at you and getting caught, not the other way around. his eyes grew wide like they always did, but he didn't look away. you took it as an opportunity to send a small smile his way, which he answered with an awkward one of his own.

the two of you kept going for almost the whole night, stealing glances, the boy blushing every time you met his gaze. it was adorable. but he never moved. just stayed there with his friends, sipping on a cup that must've been empty at that point. and it was. so when you saw him making his way to the kitchen for a refill, you took your chance.

his back was facing you when you made it into the doorstep, no one else was in the room, and the sound of the music was significantly lower than in the rest of the house. you stood there for a second, watching as he took different bottle and poured them all in his cup before finally speaking up.

"whatcha drinking?" you asked, making the boy jump slightly before turning around to face you. his eyes grew wide once again as you eyes locked together. his mouth open, then closed, then opened, until it closed for the final time. you smiled at him before walking over to him and looking into his cup. "can i?" you asked, nodding at the cup.

the boy's mouth gapped open slightly as he watched you. he looked down at his cup before looking back up at you, nodding slightly. you softly took the cup from his hand and took a sip, the taste of different alcohol burning down your throat.

"you are not messing around you? jeez." you chuckled as you handed him his cup back.

"i don't..." he began, and your eyes quickly looked into his at the sound of his voice. it was soft, softer than you had expected. "i don't usually go this hard."

"what's the occasion?"

"this was supposed to happen after i had this cup." he mumbled, looking between your eyes and the ground. you grinned slightly at his words, quickly understanding that he was talking about your interaction.

"so, you were planning on coming to talk to me at some point and not just stare and look away the whole night?" you teased, making the boy's face flush red.

"that was the goal, yeah." he answered, scratching the back of his head.

"good to know." you responded. the two of then stood in silent for a whole minute. the boy clearly looking a little awkward as he tried to find the right words to say. "i'm y/n/n."

you never did this. you never went around giving your name to random boys you had just met at parties. but something about him intrigued you. he was different the rest of the boys you had talked to this semester. he was shy and quiet. you liked that about him.

"quinn."

"nice to meet you, quinn."

"you too." he blushed. and there it was again, the split moment of silent where the two of you just looked at each other. just as you were about to say something, your friend rushed into the room.

"y/n/n! we gotta go!" she exclaimed, making you furr your brows.

"what's going on?" you asked turning around to face your friend. her eyes grew a little as she realized she had just interrupted your moment with the boy.

"it's jen. her and marcus..." your friend trailed off, and you quickly understood what had happen.

"gimme five minutes and i'll be out." you answered and your friend nodded slightly before leaving. you turned back around to face quinn with a sad smile.

"i'm sorry-"

"it's okay. trouble in paradise?"

"more like trouble in hell. they're always arguing and cheating on each other. told her that's what happens when you date a frat guy but she just won't listen." you went on, quickly realizing what you had just said. "and now i'm really hoping you're not frat guy..."

"i'm not." he chuckled, making you let out a small breath. "i'm guessing that's why you're here? you didn't look too much like the party type."

"had a feeling something bad would happen. anyways, i should... get going." you said, pointing awkwardly at the door.

"right yeah, it was nice meeting you."

"you too." you stood for a couple of seconds, hoping he would ask for your number. you didn't know why, you never wanted anyone's number, you weren't interested in that. but quinn was different. eventually you started making your way out of house, trying your best to hid your disappointment.

you joined your friends outside, where you were met with a crying jen. then you all started making your way to your dorms. jen and half of the girls in your friend group were all apart of the same sorority, which is probably where they would end up spending the night instead of their dorms. you had met lacy in your english class, and honestly you didn't even remember how you guys became friends, you just did. lacy was apart of the sorority, which is how you met all the girls. and you all quickly clicked, and were now inseparable.

"he cheated again?" you whispered to lacy as you guys started leaving the frat house. the two of you were walking a little behind the group, hoping jen wouldn't hear anything.

"twice tonight."

"jeez." you answered with wide eyes. just as lacy was about to say something, you heard someone call your name from behind.

"y/n! wait!" the voice made your whole group stop and turn around. your eyes grew wide as you saw quinn running up the sidewalk, his eyes growing wide as he realized just how many of you were staring at him. you stood frozen in place before lacy slapped your back.

"go see him! if he comes anywhere near here, he's gonna get scared away by the girls." she harshly whispered and your feet quickly moved to meet him a little further away than the group.

"quinn, what's going?"

"your number!" he exclaimed loudly, making your eyes grow wide at the tone of his voice. "that's what i forgot. when you left, i felt like i forgot something, but i couldn't figure out what. and then my phone buzzed and it clicked in my head, but you were already gone so, here i am." he explained through his breath, making you blush slightly.

"you could've just said you forgot, no need to explain." you giggled slightly.

"wanted you to know that like i wanted to, but my brain wasn't really working in the kitchen so i kinda blanked out and... i'm doing it again." he said awkward, his lips shutting tight.

"gimme your phone." you whispered trying your best to hold back your smile. you were right, he was different.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

after that night, the two of you talked everyday. at first it was just texting, telling each other about your days, asking the other questions about their life. you found out he was played hockey for the school, and he found out you lived in toronto, to which he answered by telling you he grew up there.

suddenly, this boy you had meet a week knew more about you than anyone else at the school. a week later, you were sitting in the dinner, quinn in front of you as the two of you awkwardly ate your dinners. that was your first date together, and three dates later quinn asked you to be his girlfriend, to which you happily agreed.

this whole thing felt so odd to you. you had never really been on for dating, sure you had your fair shares of boys in high school, but for the first two months of your freshman year, you steered clear of boys, and now here you were in the middle of november standing in the middle of Yost arena with your boyfriend's jersey on your back.

but this is exactly what you wanted, you didn't want to be out and chasing for love, you wanted love to find, and it did. and when american thanksgiving came around in november, you found yourself sitting at the hughes' dinning table, quinn's two younger brothers sitting in front of you two, along with their billet brother alex, while his parents sat at each end of the table.

"so, y/n, quinn said you live in toronto? what brought you to michigan?"

"well, my parents are from here, their families live here and they met here. and then a couple of years before they had my older sister they moved to toronto for my mom's job. but i we visit michigan every summer, so i basically grew up here a little too. they both to umich, my whole family pretty much did, so it was kind of a no brainer." you explained. the two younger boys didn't pay much attention to what you were saying, but jack did look over at you a couple of times.

"are they close to detroit?"

"all over the place really, but some of them, yeah." the rest of the dinner went smoothly, some of jack's friends came over a little later in the night and chaos quickly took over the house. but you and quinn were able to find a quiet spot in the basement. you sat next to him, his arm over your shoulder as your head leaned onto him, the two of you watching a movie quinn had begged you to watch. your legs were over his as a blanket covered the two of you.

"quinn?" you head luke's small voice call out as he made his way down the stairs, eventually appearing in front of you two. "can i watch it with you guys? jack and his friends are acting like maniacs up there. even mom and dad left!" the small boy explained, his eyes wide with fear. quinn chuckled slightly before tapping the empty spot next to him.

"come here, bud." he said before focusing back on the movie. luke slowly made his way over to the couch. you sent him a small smile as he made himself comfortable in his spot. the boy hadn't said much to you throughout the night, he greeted you with a shy 'hello' and the pretty much stuck by jack's side the rest of the evening. the two older teens, jack and alex, had been a little more talkative, but they mainly just talked between each other about hockey and stuff. but you didn't mind, quinn had quickly explained that it meant they liked you and were comfortable with having you around. which made your heart grow for the family.

"we should go get ice cream." you suggested as the movie ended, and by the way your eyes flickered between the two brothers, quinn understood that the invite was for the both of them.

"you two go, i'll stay behind and make sure those idiots don't burn down the house." quinn proposed, he had quickly understood that your invite for ice cream with luke was a way for you to get closer to his brother, and he figured you'd have better luck if it was just the two of you.

ten minutes later, you were sitting in quinn's car, luke in the passenger side as you drove to the closest ice cream place.

"so, quinn told me you just started high school. how's that been?"

"it's fine."

"i remember my freshmen math class, it was hell. they made everything so complicated for nothing."

"it's really not that hard." luke said with a bit of pride, making you smile slightly.

"yeah? what about sciences?"

"jack was dramatic when he took it, made it sound like it was harder than climbing mouth everest, but he's just dumb." he said, making you let out a laugh.

"or maybe you're just too smart."

"it's probably both. jack probably only has half a brain cell." he added, only making you laugh harder.

after that night, you and luke had become quite close. you were the sister he never had, and he was the little brother you never had. he reached out whenever he was struggling with something in school, girl advice, and sometimes just to talk whenever he felt like it. and you were always there, you answered as soon as you could and as often as you could. and quinn loved it.

it took a little longer with jack, but by the end of your freshman year, jack had became the annoying little brother, always asking you stupid questions that made your eyes roll and quinn scoff.

as the months went by, your relationship with quinn grew, and you were next to him for every important step of his career. you were there in january when the usa won bronze at the world junior, you were there when umich lost in the frozen four semi finals, but most importantly you were next to him in dallas when the canucks organization called his name. you were there for everything.

in the summer, you had been invited to the infamous hughes lakehouse, where you spent three whole weeks in nothing but bikinis and cover ups, and never taking the time to do something fancy with your hair or put any makeup on. it felt like some foreign place to you, sure your family had lake-houses of their own, but something about the hughes' just felt magical. the second you got to the airport, you were already counting down the days until you got to go back.

════ ⋆fall 2018⋆ ════

➻❥ ann arbor, mich

coming back to umich for your sophomore year felt surreal. jen had finally broken things for good with marcus, something all of your friend was happy about, and you had quinn by your side. and although you guys never mentioned it, you knew this was your last year together at umich. quinn was undoubtedly signing with the canucks at the end of the season. you knew the moment his name got called so high in draft that he was not coming back junior year.

the canucks needed all the help they could to start this small rebuild, and quinn was their next star defencemen, and you couldn't have been more thrilled for him. over the summer, you had seen all the work him and his brother put into the becoming the best they could, and it was finally going to pay off.

but you two never brought it up to each other, always telling yourselves you had plenty of time left. and it wasn't until quinn told you he had once again be selected for the world junior tournament, this time with his brother jack, that it hit you. it was almost january already, meaning that in 3-4 months max, quinn would be gone.

so you took things into your hands. you didn't want to be left behind, your relationship with quinn meant too much to you for his career to be the end of it. but you were not the long distance relationship type of girl. if he going to minesota or columbus, or anywhere near michigan, you wouldn't mind. but he was moving to canada, and not close canada, far canada. there would be a three hour time difference between the two of you, and that was not something you were okay with.

almost as some sort of joke, the world junior's ended up being in vancouver. and after spending three whole weeks in the city, spending quinn's days off along together, and sometimes josh or jack tagging along, there was no way you were letting quinn move here alone. it was almost like you got a glimpse of what your life could be like together here, and you loved it.

so, the second you got back to michigan of usa's heartbreaking lost in the finals, you applied to UBC. you never mentioned it to quinn, not even when you got accepted simply because vancouver had yet to be a topic of conversation between the two of you. to you, it was pretty obvious that you would be moving with him. you two had been together for a little over a year now, and you loved quinn more than anything in your life. and quinn, well you don't know why he never brought it up, so you just figured there was a mutual understanding that you would be moving with him. i mean, why wouldn't you, right?

but that all changed when michigan lost in the first round of the big-10 tournament, meaning their was no chance of them qualifying for the ncaa tournament. their season was over. but all you could think about as you sat in the arena surrounded by minnesota fans was that quinn was leaving. you had made the trip with a couple of other girlfriends, most of you understanding that this probably would be their last game.

now here you stood with them, not far away from the michigan locker room as the plays came out one by one. quinn was one of the last one's the leave, and by the look on his face, you knew. you already knew, but now you were being faced with the fact that it was actually happening.

you had to tell him, now. you hoped it would boost up his mood for the night, and although you would be in michigan until may and he would be in vancouver for almost a month, but you would be together after that.

"i'm leaving." he said as soon as your arms wrapped around his neck. but his stayed by his side, making you frown a bit.

"i know, q, it's okay." you said a small sad smile as you pulled away from him. one of your hands landed on his cheek, your thumbs rubbing his cheekbone softly.

"no- i'm leaving, y/n." he said again, but his tone was different, leaving you confused.

"what're you saying, quinn?"

"i'm going to vanconver, y/n, i'm starting my career, my life." your brows furred at his words. "my dream is coming true."

"i know that, quinn! why are you talking to me like i don't understand? obviously you're going to vancouver, why wouldn't you?"

"but you don't understand, y/n/n." he said loudly, making your mouth close as his voice caught the attention of a couple of people around. "i'm pretty much starting my life over. new city, new people, new friends, new team, new everything, y/n. everything."

"not everything. you still have michigan, your family, me!" you said confused, but as his eyes looked away from you and down at the ground, the realization hit you. "do you not want me to be-"

"y/n..." he cut you off, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. and in that moment, you knew. he didn't want you by his side as he started this new chapter of his life. one you had watched as he created it for himself. one where you had been by his side every step of the way for the last year. he didn't want you in vancouver with him.

"oh." you gasped, taking a step back away from him. you tried your best to keep the tears in, blinking them away.

"i'm sorry, it's just... it's just not gonna work."

you debated telling him about UBC, but as his words registered in your head, it wouldn't change anything. it's not that he didn't want in vancouver, he didn't want you by his side point.

it felt like a slap to the face. like someone had just poured a ice bucket on you. you had been there for everything, supported him through everything. did his homework when he didn't have the time to, helped him study to make sure he passed all his classes and didn't get kicked off the team. you had weekly facetime calls with his brothers, and you visited his parents every weekend even if quinn was out of town. you did everything, and this is the reward you got?

if it weren't for the two of you being in public, you probably would've tried to rip his head off. but instead, you nodded along as he continued talking, only snapping back him as he bid his goodbye and slipped from your fingers. he was gone.

════ ⋆fall 2019⋆ ════

➻❥ toronto, on

you were sitting in your parents living room as the 2019 draft played on the tv. you watched as jack and some of his friends that you had became somewhat close to got drafted. and you tried your hardest not to let the memories of quinn's draft flood your head. and the top it off, the draft was in vancouver.

you hadn't spoke to either jack or luke since your breakup with quinn. and only spoken to ellen and jim once when you stopped by their house to grab a couple of things you had left in quinn's room. he was still in michigan, and luke and jack were both at school when you came, so you only had to see his parents.

they both offered you sad smiles as you made your way inside their house. and concluded your short interactions by telling you you could always reach out to them if you needed anything, which you appreciated, you really did, but you all knew you never would.

and now you stared at your phone, jack's contacts open as you looked at the send button for almost 5 minutes. 'congrats jacky !!! so happy and proud of you, enjoy your night :)' you debated sending it. would he even respond? both him and luke had reached out after the breakup, but you hadn't answered either of them, it would hurt too much. but you came to your sense. jack, who you considered your little brother, was just drafted 1st overall, something all little boys dream about it. it would almost be disrespectful not to reach other after you spent the last year reassuring him that he would go first. so you hit send.

his response came back a couple of hours later. it was short and simple, yet still brought tears to your eyes 'thank you y/n/n, wish you were here ❤️'. you liked his message, but didn't the words to answer him. you wanted to be there, you really did, but it was all so complicated. and there was no way you would be able to step foot in vancouver without completely breaking down.

speaking of vancouver, you had decided not to go to UBC in the fall, there was no point in going. but you didn't want to go back to umich either. the months after quinn left were the hardest of your life. everywhere you went reminded you of him, there was no a single place in ann arbor that you could go that wouldn't make you think of quinn. so, you decided to enroll at the university of ottawa.

which is where your friendship with josh norris and brady tkachuk were rekindled. you had ran into them on a random day in the middle of the grocery store, and the two were quick to bring you into hugs. after that, the three of you become attached to the hips. you cheered them on from the comfort of your dorm every game, went over to their apartments for movie nights. and quinn was never brought up. they never mentioned him around you, never asked you about him. it was like he didn't exists. which was comforting and odd at the same time. the only reason you knew was quinn, he was the link between you guys, yet the absence of his existence felt refreshing.

"does quinn about this?" you asked some time in february as the three of you watched a movie in josh's living room. the two guys, who were sitting on either side of you, looked between each other before josh answered.

"what do you mean?"

"does he knew we're friends and we hangout a lot?"

"no. if we told him he'd probably slice our heads off." brady said bluntly, making josh smack the back of his head. "what! it's true. the minute the two of you broke up he'd send death glares to anyone who asked about you. and then he like forbid anyone to mention you 'cause he'd always get all sad and mushy. like-like that one time at jack's draft, he told everyone you messaged him and quinn almost jumped off the balcony. honestly, y/n/n, whatever you did to that boy fucked up bad."

"i didn't do anything!" you quickly said, shocked by brady's words. josh was looking at his best friends with wide eyes, almost cursing him with his eyes. "he broke up with me, he shouldn't be the one getting his panties all twisted, i should!"

"oh." the two boys said the same, making you look between with raised brows.

"he never told us why you two broke up, so we just figured you did. sorry."

"you were literally there when he broke up with me!" you exclaimed looking at josh, who looked at you like you were speaking a foreign language. "in minnesota!" you added, and it was like something clicked in his head.

"oh. oh! he broke up with you?" he asked, making you scoff and roll your eyes while brady just laughed out loud.

and that was the first and only last time quinn was ever brought up between the three of you, and after a while you barely ever though of him on your own. you stayed far away from michigan, and made sure you stayed on campus whenever the canucks or the new jersey were in town. and eventually you barely ever though of him. well, that was until late 2022.

════ ⋆winter 2022⋆ ════

➻❥ ottawa, on

"hey, didn't know you were coming by." you said as you opened the door to your dorm apartment. brady walked in with some snack in his hands, kicking his shoes off as he made his way to your shared living room. "yeah, sure come on in."

"so, emma and i are starting to plan everything out for the wedding, and obviously we want you there. emma wants you there." he started. you had grown quite close with emma over the years, and you found yourself spending most of your free time at their house with her. "like she wants you there. and i want quinn there." he added slowly, making it all click in your head.

quinn is going to be one of brady's groomsmen, and you could only guess by his tone and wording that emma wanted you to be a bridesmaid.

"oh."

"i mean, obviously we won't, you know, put you guys together. i just wanna make sure nobody's murdering nobody at my wedding." he said casually, taking a bit of his snack after.

"it's fine, don't worry."

it wasn't fine. it was actually the opposite of fine. you hadn't see quinn or any of his family in almost 4 years, what on earth were you supposed to do or say when you saw them. but you figured that would be a problem when the wedding came.

so for the next months you tried your hardest to ignore it. but every time you and the couple talked about the wedding, it was all you could think about. quinn hughes was the only thing on your mind every time you opened your closet and your eyes landed on your dress. scratch that, quinn hughes was the only thing on your mind.

not in a cute 'so excited to see you again!' way, no quinn hughes was the last person you wanted to see. you hadn't see or heard of him since he broke your heart in minnesota. and the fact that you would be seeing him for the first time since was at a wedding felt like an absolute joke from the universe.

all you could think about was where the two of you would be at in your relationship now. would you be married? would you be living in a house together? would you be thinking about having kids soon? it was too much. but you wanted to be there, for emma and for brady who welcomed you with open arms every time you tried to put yourself out there just for guys to dump after getting what they wanted. or that one night when you completely broke down after the guy you had been talking with for a while now asked you to be his girlfriend and you couldn't bring yourself to say because he wasn't quinn, he wasn't your quinn. and you hated yourself for feeling this way.

because you were over him. your heart no longer belonged to the boy, but you weren't over the betrayal and the hurt you felt that day. one day everything was perfect, you were convinced you had found the man you would spend forever with, and the next second he was gone. you felt crazy for this, but sometimes you found yourself wondering if it had ever happened at all. if it was just something you had made up. but it wasn't. he was real, you guys were real. all of it was real.

════ ⋆summer 2023⋆ ════

➻❥ detroit, mich

"how's the most beautiful girl doing?" you asked entering the small room where emma was getting ready. you had yet to see quinn or any of the hughes family today, and you were glad. but you knew you could only avoid them for so long.

"feels like she's gonna piss herself." she joked, making you chuckle slightly as you walked up to her, standing behind her in the mirror. she was fully dressed, and the ceremony was starting soon. you just stared at her dress the whole time. it was beautiful, you probably would've had gotten on similar to this one for your own wedding with quinn. quinn. quinn. quinn. all you could think about today was quinn.

"you okay?" the girl asked, making you snap back to reality. you hadn't even realize the tears forming in your eyes.

"huh?"

"oh, sweetie." emma sighed, turning around and wrapping her arms around you.

"this is so stupid!"

"it's not stupid."

"it's been four years. i shouldn't... i shouldn't still be feeling like this." you said, trying your best to pull yourself back together, blinking away the tears in your eyes.

"you also haven't seen the man you thought you were gonna marry in four years. it's understandable." she said, making you flinch slightly at her words. the man you thought you were going to marry. ouch. "sorry."

"no it's fine, you're right. i'll be okay."

"yeah?"

"yeah."

"if you need anything, find matty and he'll... i don't know he's matty he'll find something to cheer you up." she said, making you laugh slightly. the girl joined for a bit before silence fell over the two of you.

"i'm scared shitless to see him." you admitted. "i've been thinking about what i would say or do if i ever saw him. and-and i don't know."

"just go out there and be a bad bitch. he doesn't deserve to feel like you're still hung up on him or whatever, because you're not. you're just hurt and that's okay."

"you're gonna make a great mom one day."

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

your hands were shaking as you stood next to josh and matty, the two of them almost forming a wall around you to keep your eyes from trying to find queen. the ceremony was about to start at any moment now, meaning all the groomsmen and bridesmaids were together, and it was only a matter of time before quinn popped up.

"josh!" you heard him call out, and your whole body froze. his voice was slightly deeper than it was before. but it was him. you could recognized his voice anywhere.

"smart thinking sherlock you're like the only one he knows here." matthew said harshly to josh as quinn made their way over to the three of you. matthew wasn't completely familiar with your situation with quinn, but brady had told him enough that he knew the two of you should stay far away form the other.

the hughes boy had clearly not realized that you were the girl standing with them, seeing as he froze when your eyes met together. you knew it was corny, but it was like time stopped and you felt your heart drop to your stomach. it was like you were back in that frat house, meeting his gaze for the first time ever. never would you have thought you would be standing here almost half a decade later, staring into those same blue eyes.

"quinn." josh said awkwardly as he went over to the boy and dapped him up. matthew did the same, and suddenly all the attention was on you, the three of them looking at you.

"quinn." you said sharply, finally looking away from his eyes.

"y/n." he answered, and you saw matthew try his best not to laugh. thankfully, you were saved by the ceremony starting. and you were hoping that would be the last you would see of him that night.

it wasn't. when it came time to take pictures after the ceremony, you decided to stick to taryn's side as the photographer placed all the groomsmen and bridesmaid. thankfully he placed the two of you on opposite sides. but after that, you really did not see him for the rest of the evening. or at least you that's what you tried to tell yourself.

the sun had set a couple of hours ago, and everyone was now inside dancing the night away to different songs. you had made your way outside a couple of minutes ago, wanting to take some time to yourself and cool down from the hotness inside.

you eventually felt a presence next to you, and your breath caught in your throat as your eyes met quinn's figure. he was learning on the railing of the balcony, his eyes looking straight ahead. you soon copied him, drawing your eyes away from him and over to the scene in front of you.

"how you been?" he asked softly, making you scoff aloud.

"really? that's really what you want to say to me right now? 'how you been'?" you said angrily, turning slightly on yourself so you were facing him. his eyes closed at your words as he winced. you were right. you always were.

"i'm sorry... for everything."

"it's a bit late for that, don't you think." you scoffed, turning back to where you were facing before.

"you deserved better than that. i was an ass, and i'm so sorry for how things ended, really." he spoke. his words were soft and true. you needed to tell him. this big secret you hadn't told anyone because you wanted him to first to know.

"i got into UBC." you whispered, making his eyes snap to you.

"what?"

"when we got back to michigan after the world juniors, i applied to UBC and i got in. i knew you were gonna, i wasn't stupid. but after the world juniors, and... seeing what our life could be like together in vancouver, i wanted to be there with you. i thought that you would me there with you. i thought we wanted the same thing, but clearly i was wrong." you explained, and quinn let out a loud sigh at your words, pinching your nose.

"you wanted come?"

"of course i did, quinn. you meant everything to me, gosh, i would've followed to fucking australia if you asked me to." you said, your voice shaky as tears formed in your eyes.

"why... why didn't you say anything? i wanted you there with me, y/n, but you never mentioned it, it was vancouver didn't even exists to you. i wanted you with me!"

"i thought you knew!" you said loudly, making quinn's body stiffen. "i thought you knew, quinn. that after everything, i wouldn't have to explain to you that i wanted to be with. and i never brought it up because i thought you knew that it a no brainer that i would come with you. but you never asked, and you just left. i thought you knew." you added, your voice soft as your eyes met together. you couldn't hold back the tears in your eyes anymore, and neither could he.

"fuck." he whispered under his breath. his hand ran through his hair as he leaned on the railing.

"i would've moved mountains for you. i would've gone with you to the end, quinn." you said, quoting the lord of the rings. but it was your favourite saga to watch together. and the two of used to say it to each other all the time. granted, back then you would say 'i would go with you to the end' and you both meant it, you really did.

quinn couldn't hold back his tears anymore. all the hurt and pain the two of you had shared was for nothing. all this time, you wanted the same thing, and he was the idiot who messed it all up.

" i would go with you to the end, y/n/n." he said, and you knew exactly what he meant. he would go.

"quinn..." you gasped as the boy shifted and his hands landed on your waist. he softly pulled you a little closer to him, his forehead leaning down on yours. "i've moved on." you said as you closed your eyes, letting yourself enjoy this moment of closeness with the boy who stole your heart all these heart ago. "you should too."

"i'm trying. but every time i go the rink all i can think about is you. it's been four years, and all i can think about is you. and now- knowing... i can't. you're the love of my life, y/n. and i could never love anyone like i love you." he admitted. your foreheads were still touching, both of your eyes closed as his hands stayed on your sides.

"i cried when a guy asked me be his girlfriend because he wasn't you." you laughed through your tears, making quinn chuckle slightly. "but i have a life, quinn. i'm in ottawa, and i love it over there. i'm happy, i'm finally happy." you added, completely breaking his heart just like he had done to yours years ago.

"i know." he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. "i know."

just as you were about to say something else, jack's loud echoed outside. "quinn! dude! you're missing out big time, we just threw brady everywhere and- oh." he stopped his sentence when his eyes landed on the two of you. you had stepped away from quinn, trying your best to wipe away your tears and quinn did the same, but his red eyes betrayed him. "i'm sorry, i should-"

"it's fine, i should, uhm, i should go find emma." you quickly said and before the brother's even realized you were moving you were gone, leaving them alone outside. quinn let out a long and loud sigh as he turned back towards the railing, trying his best not the break down in front of hi little brother. jack stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say or do. he had clearly interrupted an intimate moment between the two of you, one that was long over due. but it wasn't until he heard quinn's chocked sobbed that he moved over to his brother.

"you okay?"

"what do you think!" the older boy snapped, making jack's eyes grow wide.

"sorry." he mumbled, awkwardly standing next to his brother as he looked around the area.

"she got into UBC." he sighed, rubbing his temples. "i broke up with her because i thought she didn't want to come to vancouver, and she got into UBC." quinn laughed, but it wasn't his usual one, this one was filled with regret and pain, something jack had never seen in his older brother. and this was his first time even mentioning the breakup out loud. quinn never told anyone what had happened, embarrassed that he thought you would come with him, and embarrassed by the words he had shared with you and how he handled the situation. he knew he messed up. the second his words left his mouth and he saw the look in your eyes, he knew he fucked it all up. that was clearly not the look of someone who did not care about him. but what was he supposed to do? the words were already said, how was he supposed to say 'you know what never mind, i do want you there with me' after pretty much telling her bringing her with him to vancouver would be a burden? that he just couldn't do.

"oh. you're stupid." the middle brother said bluntly, making quinn scoff.

"thanks."

"no, dude, i'm being so serious. she literally looked at you with the biggest heart eyes ever at the worlds, and she kept rambling about how much she loved vancouver, and you really thought she wouldn't want to move with you? even i'm not that stupid!" jack said, and he was right. quinn honestly had no clue at this point why he ever doubted the fact that you would go with him to vancouver, but it didn't matter anymore. your relationship was in the past, he was in your past.

"i know, okay? i know."

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

you shouldn't be here. you really should not be here. you don't even remember how it happened. one second you were at the wedding the next thing you knew you were in a car on the way to jack and quinn's lakehouse in michigan.

which is how you ended up sitting at the end of their dock as everyone kept the party going outside. your feet were barely in the water, your dress tucked up to your thighs, a beer in your hands. soon, you were joined by someone, and you knew exactly who it was.

"hi, luke." you whispered as the boy sat next to you.

"you've been avoiding me." the boy said harshly, making you close your eyes. you were. and you weren't going to lie about it.

"i have."

"why? i mean, you're avoiding me more than quinn, and he's the one who broke up with you not me!" the boy said. he was angry, and he had every right to be. the two of you talked daily when you and quinn were together. and all of the sudden you became a ghost. you never reached out after, but he did. for almost a whole year he reached out. wished you a happy birthday, merry christmas, updated you on his season and his life. but you never answered. you saw his messages, but you never answered. you couldn't find it in you to do so. and yeah, maybe he was like a little brother, but he was quinn's brother, not yours. you knew he got drafted by new jersey, and he knew you had reached out to jack after his draft. so he kept hope that you would reach out to him after his, but you never did. and that hurt him more than anything.

"what was i supposed to say, luke?"

"oh, i don't know, maybe 'i'm sorry i just completely disappear from your life and ignored you for a whole year'? how about that?"

"would that of had changed anything? you would've just told me to go fuck myself and be all bitchy."

"yeah, i would've. 'cause you thaught me to be like that." he said softly. and you felt your heart melt at his words. "i know i'm quinn's little brother, but i thought we were friend's, y/n/n."

"but you are his brother, luke. and every time i think about you, i think about him. we are friends, but you're quinn's brother before anything else." you whispered, throwing your head back with a sigh.

"you reached out to jack." he mumbled, his voice soft and broken. yuo squeezed your eyes shut at his words. he was right. "we were closer, but you didn't reach out to me after my draft. i spent my whole night looking at my phone hoping to see your message." he admitted, taking a large sip of his own beer.

"it had been two years, i wasn't sure you'd wanna hear from me."

"i always wanna hear from you, y/n. you're my sister." he said, his voice still soft but now full of comfort and vulnerability. "you're always gonna be my sister. even if you disappear for four years." he joked, making you chuckle slightly as you opened your eyes. you looked over at him for the first time tonight. you had seen him at the wedding, but never really took the time to look at him. he was taller now, his hairs a little longer and his muscles more visible. he had grown. and you hated that you weren't there to see it. he wasn't little 15 years old luke, he was an adult now.

you didn't know what to say. the way he uttered those words with so much care and love behind them. you were always going to be his sister. you leaned your head down on his shoulder, letting your guilt take over as tears fell down your cheeks. "you're always gonna be my brother, lu. always." you admitted, and that's all he needed to hear.

he didn't want to hear how sorry you were for leaving, how much you regretted ignoring him. he just wanted to know that you still cared and loved for him. that he wasn't childish or immature for being angry when you left, for feeling like maybe you didn't care about him as much as he thought you did.

"how's ottawa?" he asked after a couple of minutes of silence.

"good. really good. it's not michigan or toronto, but it's good." you said truthfully.

"you think i could see when we play?" he hesitantly asked, biting his lip anxiously as he waited for your yes. he felt you nod against his shoulder before hearing your response.

"as long as you get me a ticket to the game." you answered with a smile, making luke chuckle slightly.

"jack said he saw you and quinn talking at the wedding." your breath hitched at his words.

"we're not getting back together, luke."

"i know. i just wanted to make sure you were okay. i asked some of your friends at umich how you were doing when you left, they said we were pretty beat up."

"i'm okay." you started, taking a sip of your beer after. "it felt good, you know. like i finally got the closure i wanted. until jack ruined it." you finished, making luke scoff slightly.

"of course it was him." he said as the two of you laughed slightly. and then silence took over again. "so, what are you gonna do when you finish grad school." you had two years left, and you honestly had no clue.

"i don't know."

════ ⋆summer 2025⋆ ════

➻❥ detroit, mich

it had been two years since the wedding. two years since quinn last saw and heard of you. he knew you luke talked often, he was glad that the two of you had reconnected after the wedding, although deep down he was a little jealous that it was luke and not him. but it was clear that you were happy.

you talked to jack a little here and there too, mainly whenever he would just barge into luke's room while the two of you were on facetime. along with birthdays and holidays. but quinn never reached out. he knew you still had the same number as before, he had secretly went through luke's phone to see if it had changed. it hadn't.

every year your birthday came around, he found himself opening your messages together. he never deleted them, he couldn't. he didn't have the courage to change your contact name. and instead he found himself scrolling through your conversations from years ago, all the i love you's you shared, all the sweet little updates about your days. he'd wake up the next morning with dark circles.

luke never mentioned you around quinn, he did around his parents and jack, but never quinn. and the older brother wasn't sure if he was happy or upset about that. he wanted to know how you were doing, but he always knew the pain he'd feel if luke said you were doing better than ever.

but that all changed one evening. him, his brothers and whoever was staying at their place right now were on the boat. the sun was almost fully set, the sky filled with a multitude of colours. the boys had been taking turns on the back of the boat, while jack was the main driver. he loved to drive.

quinn had barely been on his phone all day, busy enjoying the outdoors with his closest friends and brothers. so he took this moment to catch up on what he had missed. he was sitting at the front of the boat, away from the rest of the group.

he slowly went through his notifications when one from a couple of hours ago caught his eyes.

y/n/n 💗

im moving to vancouver

holy shit. his body froze. he almost wanted to pinch himself just to make sure he was seeing right. but he didn't need to as he clicked on the notification and your message stared back at him.

quinn wasn't sure if the boat was fully stopped and docked before he hoped off and almost ran towards the house, leaving all the guys confused on the boat.

"what's up with him?" trevor asked as the guys all stared at the boy going into the house, the door slamming behind him.

"i don't know, but whatever it is it's not a good excuse to be slamming doors." jack said a little irritated. they had all noticed how the boy kept to himself for the last part of the boat ride, staring into nothing as he barely spoke.

"i think i know..." luke trailed off, as he stared at his phone. he hadn't touched it since he got on the boat. "y/n/n's moving to vancouver." he added slowly, making everyone freeze. silence settled over them and all you could hear was the waves crashing on the boat beneath them. they all exchanged looks before looking over the house, and they all silently agreed to make their way over as quickly as possible.

when they entered, the first thing they heard was the sound of quinn's voice. he was in the living, sitting down on one of the couches, his back facing the group of guys.

"yeah, that's really nice. congrats y/n." they heard the boy say into the phone. they couldn't see his face, but the two brothers coudl only imagine the smile that was plastered on their older brother's face right now.

"in october? like early or late?" they couldn't hear exactly what you said, but they could hear your voice echoing from quinn's phone. the boy relaxed into the couch running one of his hands through his hair. "i mean i'm going back in like mid-late september so i could come pick you up if you need."

after that the boy all retreated to the kitchen, mainly because josh started pushing all of them away from the door of the living room. this was clearly a private conversation, and it was not one that they needed to hear.

"20 bucks they're back together by december." jack was the first to speak as they made it to the kitchen, going straight to the fridge and taking out a couple of beers.

"really? only 3 months?" cole said as he opened his bottle.

"bro, you guys didn't see what i saw at brady's wedding. they were all touchy and crying, and honestly i think the sole reason they didn't get back together right there and then was the fact that y/n/n was in ottawa. so yeah, 3 months max and they're back together."

the group of guys all kept bickering about how long the two of you would take to get back together. some were saying almost a year, others by next summer, but jack was instant that he was correct, rolling his eyes at everyone's guess. but the kitchen quickly became quiet as quinn exited the living room and joined. he didn't hear what their conversation was about simply because he couldn't be bothered to listen.

but when the room went dead quiet at his arrival, he was more intrigued than ever. he stop dead in his tracks as all the guys turned to look at him. "what?"

"y/n/n's moving to vancouver?" trevor was the first to speak up, making jack slap the back of his head. quinn's brows furred at his words, had they been listening to his conversation?

"she texted me." luke was quick to say as he noticed his brother's facial expression. quinn's face relaxed at that, making his way over to the fridge and grabbing a beer of his own.

"we just figured that you knew when you kinda just ran away."

"i didn't run away." quinn was quick to get defensive, something he never really did.

"sure, and i'm queen elizabeth." jack scoffed, making quinn roll his eyes.

"whatever, i'm going to bed."

════ ⋆fall 2025⋆ ════

➻❥ vancouver, bc

your hands were shaking in your lap as you watched the vancouver skyline appear in your view. your plane was about the land, and you had just texted quinn your estimated landing time.

after your phone call back in the middle of summer, the two of you had spent more and more time talking together. you asked him questions about where the most idea place to live would be considering your office. the best way to get around the city without a car, the best coffee shops, dinners. you talked almost every single day. some days more than others, but everyday. but something about felt odd. even though you were talking through the screen, there was some tension between you two that you couldn't quite describe. and some nights as you laid awake at night you'd open your messages, wondering if texting him out of the blue just see how he was doing would be too weird, but you'd be met with a typing bubble from quinn, but the messages never left. there was so much left unsaid between the two of you as you got on the plane, but you both also just knew.

he had helped you found an apartment about 15 minutes away from his. it wasn't anything too big, just one bedroom, one bathroom, on the third floor of the complex. it wasn't much, but it was perfect for your first place.

you were honestly more nervous to see him again, than to actually be moving across the country. but this job offer was one a student could only dream about getting freshly out of university, so there was no way you could turn it down. sure, you had other offers, but none of them as good as this one. and you couldn't lie and say you weren't a little excited to be in the same city as quinn again.

his words had been haunting you since the day of the wedding. 'i would go with you to the end, y/n/n' and you hoped he still would, because you know you would. you hoped that this was finally the moment you would get your happy ending, your happily ever after with him.

then came the time to find him outside, and you were scared. what were you supposed to do? awkwardly smile? go in for a hug? shake his hand? part of you almost wanted to turn around and go back home. but you couldn't.

so, with your bags clutched by your side, you made your way outside. it took almost two full minutes to find him. you spotted him quick easily, he had told you what his car looked like, and there weren't too many like his around. he was leaning against his car, baggy sweats and hoodie over his head as he scrolled on his phone.

you froze in the middle of the sidewalk, he looked the same as he always did. you didn't think he could see, seeing as you could barely see him. so you took a moment to take him in and prepare yourself mentally for what was to come next.

when suddenly quinn's eyes snapped towards, almost like he could just sense your presence. granted you had been staring at him for a bit now, so maybe it was just that. the second your eyes connected, he pushed himself off of his car, and quickly removed the hood from his head, trying his best to fix his hair. you slowly made your way over to him. the next thing you knew you were standing in front of him, your eyes still locked together. neither of you moved or said anything, taking a moment to just take it all in.

you were both to say something, just a small greeting, but quinn beat you to it. before you even had time to process what was happening, his lips were on yours, one of his hands cupping your face, while the other landed on your waist, pulling you close. your eyes went wide before you melted into the kiss. you let go your bags, your hands reaching for his neck as your lips danced together.

you two pulled apart slowly, his forehead leaning against yours you both kept your eyes closed. you felt like you were having deja vu, the last time you were in the position with quinn being at the wedding. only the last time tears were streaming down your faces. this time around, you were both smiling.

you slowly blinked your eyes open, only to find him already looking at you. his eyes were full of softness and passion as he stared into yours. you giggled nervously as you fiddled with his hoodie.

"move in with me." he stated softly, shock filling with body.

"what?" you exclaimed out loud, but quinn was quick to reassure you.

"fuck the apartment, y/n. i have an extra room, my place is closer to your office, i-" he stopped when he saw the look in your eyes. "and i fucked it all up didn't i?" he sighed, making you let out a small breath.

"no, no, no. i just... fuck it."

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

20 minutes later, you were standing in the middle of quinn's apartment. you slowly made your way to his living room, leaving your bags back in the hallway near the front door. you took your time looking around, all the pictures of him in his brothers scattered around his place. but something caught your eye as you looked over at the kitchen.

"you have a sauna... in your kitchen?" you asked confused as the boy joined in the living room, your bags in his hands.

"i didn't know where else to put it..." he mumbled awkwardly making you chuckle slightly. you then felt his hands creeping onto your waist, the heat of his body radiating onto yours. you turned around in his grasp, you smiled shyly as you threw your arms around his shoulder, your fingers interlocking at the back of his neck.

quinn smiled down at you before you reached up to press your lips against. "welcome home, y/n/n."

#bri writes #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes angst #quinn hughes fluff #vancouver canucks #luke hughes #jack hughes

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nerdlvr · 4 months ago

Text

✩ goons and ghosts.

(MDNI)

smut with sorta plot, 4k+ words , ghost jisung x gooner reader , riding , cowgirl and dogstyle positions , peeping tom jisung , female and male masturbation , dick sucking , deepthroating , a lot of spit , switch jisung , switch reader , jisung's a bold virgin and reader has never nutted , cum swallowing , ur reading ghost smut nothing is accurate , lmk if i missed anything!

making a side note cause idek what happened WE LOST THE PLOT but in the end i am decently satisfied with this work. there are no specified roles in this fic everyone just wants a good fuck ALSO will be uploading a text imagine for this fic because i got so emotionally invested in the character dynamics. okie bye pls enjoy!

jisung didn’t like the would haunt. he didn’t haunt things, he simply resided there. just like how he had been residing in your apartment for the past couple months. did you know of his presence? no. but he was definitely not haunting you.

the first time was an accident... kinda. at first he was more curious about the furry little creature that he saw on your balcony, absentmindedly following it into your apartment.

what a strange creature that thing, it's almost like it could see him. its sharp tiny eyes following his figure as it shimmied through your glass doors. what a fat lump of fur, little bell jingling against its neck, that smug little look on its face and- oh my ghost, what are you doing?

he thinks he's never seen a human this pretty in his short lifetime (deathtime?). your hair was a mess against your sheets, cheeks flushed and eyebrows knit together in concentration as your hands fiddled against your panties.

he watched as the fabric soaked into your heat, pink painted toes curling at the pressure you applied through your soft fingertips. your whiny moans surrounded him, room hot and sticky against his skin.

meow

that thing speaks?

meow

he looked down to the side of your bed as the furball clawed at your sheets, its beady eyes still staring directly at him.

"momu- stop- ugh, what is it?"

you attempted to swat the thing away, frustration building on your face.

"can you- momu what? what is it?"

You huffed as you sat up on your bed, hands slapping your duvet loudly. your eyes darted around the room looking for the source of your cat’s worries.

for a moment he froze in place, not like you could see him, but for some reason he felt like he’d been caught. he watched you hesitantly as your eyes scanned the room.

maybe it was the nerves but he swore that briefly, just briefly, your eyes focused right on where he was, a soft hm coming from your mouth as you relaxed back into your bed.

he was gone before you knew it, there’s no way you could see him, he was just being paranoid.

the second time was less of accident. he had been watching a movie with your neighbor, casper the friendly ghost, how fitting.

the only thing that would make this crappy movie any better was if he could sneak a piece of popcorn, the oblivious idiot probably wouldn’t notice anyway, eyes focused on the bright tv screen. speaking of this idiot, was he blatantly ignoring your obnoxiously loud moans? your voice was practically seeping through the thin walls of his apartment. were you just an inconsiderate neighbor or was it really that good? he had to find out. he wasn’t creeping, he was simply curious.

and that’s how he found himself back in your room watching as you stuffed your pretty pussy full with your small fingers. never had he seen a girl in heat.

your body was gleaming with sweat, clearly having been at this for a while now. you pushed your fingers deeper and deeper, body squirming under the force of your own hands. how did you even manage to fit three fingers in there?

and even though your hole seemed to struggle with the size and your moans grew impossibly louder, you never truly seemed satisfied. you tossed and turned clearly frustrated by your lack of skill. he looked down at his pants, he was much bigger than your flimsy little fingers, if only he could move your hands and-

meow

fucking hell. momu was it? momu fuck off.

you rolled your eyes as you pulled your sticky fingers out of your hole, a loud sigh leaving your lips, “i know momu- momu i know, no ones harming mommy.”

he swore your eyes met his as you spoke to the furball. what did you know exactly? he didn’t give himself time to wonder as he moved back into your neighbors home, at least the idiot was asleep, time to eat his popcorn.

the next couple of times weren’t accidents at all. it had become a habit at this point to watch you touch yourself. how could he stop himself when you were practically calling for him?

there you are sprawled out on your bed, sweet little pussy dripping onto your fresh sheets as you rubbed against your swollen clit. he was sat in his usual spot in the corner of your room, hands gently rubbing at his growing bulge, eyes trained on your body. if only he could touch you, please you how you so desperately wanted to be pleased. he knew he could satisfy you, could fuck the goon out of you. but why would he want this to end?

he wondered how pathetic he must look doing all of this, hand shoved down his pants, cheeks burning bright red as he came undone, embarrassed by his own actions. he only did all this because he knew you couldn’t see him, why would he openly be a peeping pervert?

you in fact could see him. it’s not like you had some crazy superpower, you just could.

originally you had thought he was your neighbor’s sibling. tall, handsome, and dorky, you watched as he blew air into your neighbor’s face while he was getting the mail. you had smiled to yourself, what an annoying little brother.

but then when you had mentioned it to your neighbor he had replied, “what brother?” strange. as you began to describe the image of the young man you had seen your neighbor only grew more confused. very strange.

maybe it was a misunderstanding. or maybe he was a fucking ghost.

it’s not like you believe in those things or anything, him being a ghost had never even crossed your mind. but as the same dorky man sunk into your room through your wall you thought there was absolutely no other explanation.

you should’ve screamed, should’ve ran away, called the cops. but you were so close. your legs only squeezed tighter around your hand as you watched him flush at the sight of you, bulge pressing against his jeans. he seemed hesitant, almost scared, as he continued to watch you touch yourself.

he gulped as you rubbed harder against your clothed core, fabric rubbing against your abused clit.

meow

what better cockblocker than your own cat.

"momu- stop- ugh, what is it?" you swatted at your cat, desperate to continue, "can you- momu what? what is it?"

you knew she was startled by the random man in your house, she was never a fan of new people. but you pretended to not know what was bothering her, looking around your room dumbly. you couldn’t help but steal a quick glance at the ghost, his chest rising and falling nervously like he had been caught. did he know you could see him?

definitely not, since he stumbled out of your room and straight off your balcony. you could practically scream, not only had your high died down, but your handsome hunk of a ghost had abandoned you.

you turned to your cat, “you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

how to evoke a ghost. okay maybe you were an horny freak, or maybe you were just insane, but you had suffered through countless nights of rubbing at your poor pussy, nothing satisfying you. but that one night that ghost had come into your room you felt like you could actually finish at the sight of him. where were you going to find a tall handsome loser in this day and age, let alone a dead one? okay, maybe you were a horny freak.

you scrolled through the google search results. light some candles and chant a prayer, too spooky. chant its name into a mirror, would it work if you chanted, “tall handsome dork, tall handsome dork, tall handsome dork!” probably not. you should’ve known it was pointless to begin with. you had lost your moment of luck, back to square one.

you laid back into your soft bed, getting comfortable against your pillows as you began to run your hands over your body. this was just a warm up, goosebumps forming on your skin as you teased your nipples, fingers teasing the skin of your breasts.

by the time your hands made their way down to your core you were panting softly, body running hot. you had probably been a little too excited to touch yourself, moans louder than usual as your fingers met your clit. holy shit, you squeezed your eyes shut, the image of the stranger ghost filled your head as you prodded at your entrance. one finger, not enough. two fingers, not enough. three fingers, your walls squeezed around your fingers tightly, why wasn’t this enough.

you moaned loudly, partly in frustration and partly from the feeling of your fingers digging deeper inside of you, the image of the ghost never leaving your mind. you just knew he was bigger than three little fingers of yours.

nevertheless, you put your fingers to work, occasionally bringing your free hand down to rub at your clit. if only, if only he just-

“fuck.”

your eyes fluttered open as you heard a soft groan coming from the corner of your room. and there he was, watching you touch yourself. you threw your head back on your pillow, body writhing under your touch as you felt his gaze burn your skin. this was good, actually it was more than good, it was great, you felt your walls pulse around your fingers, stomach in knots as you fucked yourself.

meow

that damn cat. momu fuck off.

you sighed as you pulled your fingers out, attention now on your crying cat, “i know momu- momu i know, no ones harming mommy.”

you turned towards the ghost as you spoke, eyes pleading, please don’t leave. but he was already on his way out, fading into your wall.

he liked to watch and you liked to be watched. that’s how things had turned out between you two, you played with yourself for hours and he’d palm himself through his jeans until he came. then you’d get up, take a shower, and when you returned he’d be gone. you were smart enough to lock your door now, momu the cockblocker no longer interrupting.

this unspoken arrangement between you two was fun, but not enough. hours and hours of rubbing and fucking yourself with your fingers and nothing. you were glad you helped him finish, but you’d never quite reach your own climax, pussy rubbed raw and not even one orgasm.

if this was any other guy you would’ve called him out by now, selfish prick. but every time you looked over at him he was hunched over in your love seat, cheeks flushed, bangs covering his eyes as he quietly groaned to himself. it’s almost like he was hiding from you. tall man now tiny as he shrunk into himself, biting his hand to silence his loud moans as he spurts cum into his jeans. sometimes you’d catch him staring at you longingly, hands itching to touch you, so why didn’t he?

only you would get stuck with a shy pervert ghost.

8:00 PM. around this time he was usually relaxing on your neighbor’s couch, watching whatever lame movie he had on his watchlist, but tonight your neighbor had gotten lucky, bringing some girl home.

they had been making out since they walked through the door, clothes quickly being removed and thrown around the entrance of his apartment. jisung was quick to slip away, deciding there was no harm in lounging at your place instead. he would much rather listen to your moans anyways.

he took his usual spot on the love seat in the corner of your room, slumping against the soft cushions. he wondered when you’d show up, you usually got horny around 10, so he guessed he’d have to wait for a while, but your arrival came sooner than expected as you walked into your room, lazily scratching at your arm, “oh hi.”

wait what? did you just talk to him?

your body stilled, eyes nervously glancing around the room. oh shit. had you just spoken to him?

he got up quickly from his seat, rushing towards you and waving a hand in your face, “can you see me?”

you were quick to turn around, walking out of your room and towards your living room. he was early, and you had just spoken to him out of instinct. he was basically living in your house by now, appearing every night, but today he was early and you had forgotten you weren’t supposed to be able to see him.

he followed after you, voice shaky as he called out for you, “wait- wait can you see me? stop-“

you stopped as you felt his hand reach for your arm. he let out a shocked gasp, “you can feel me too!”

he raised a finger at you as you turned to face him, a bright blush spreading down his neck. “you- you- can see-“ he redirected his finger to himself, “can see me?”

you gave him a quick nod, biting your lip to hide your smile, he was embarrassed, how cute.

“how- how can you- for how long?” his eyebrows knit together in worry, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

you contemplated whether or not to tell him the truth, maybe you could save him the shame of being caught red handed, and also benefit by not let him know you’re a weirdo who’s into ghosts. “this is my first time seeing you.”

he squinted his eyes, glaring at you, “you’re lying! if this was your first time seeing me you would’ve been scared! you’re acting like you’ve known me your whole life!”

you chuckled nervously, well now you both had been caught. “okay, maybe, maybe i’ve seen you around somewhere.”

he paced around your living room, hands gripping at the roots of his hair as he clenched his teeth, “oh my- you know i’ve been watching you! this is so embarrassing! i- i’m leaving this is insane-“

“wait.” you grabbed at his arm before he could disappear, desperation building in your eyes.

he shivered in your grasp. you were touching him, touching him with the same hands you worked against your wet heat, night after night begging for releasee. he felt his pants tighten, head dropping in shame.

“please don’t leave. i- i need you, don’t leave, please.”

he turned to you, confused. you needed him?

“you- you know better than anyone that i can’t- i can’t- you know.” you ducked your head, now you were the one feeling embarrassed. asking the paranormal to help you cum? top 10 most down bad moments.

“you can’t cum.” he said it so matter of factly that you forgot that he was that one that should be embarrassed. he’s the intruder, he’s the pervert, he’s the- the ghost!

“you want me to help you cum?” forget everything you just thought. yes he was all of those things, but right now, he was the only one that could make you finish, it’s not the time for smart comments.

you nodded slowly, eyes focused on a suddenly interesting speck of dust on the floor.

“use me.” you raised your head, eyes wide as you looked up at him.

“use me to cum.” jisung hoped you couldn’t hear the nerves in his tone.

okay so remember all that stuff jisung said about how he’d touch you and please you how you deserved, blah blah. well he may have stretched the truth a tiny bit. in his defense he never thought he’d actually get the opportunity to do all those things, and it’s not his fault he's a 22 year old virgin ghost! and now he had a horny freak that was ready to devour him, dragging him into her bedroom. if it wasn’t for his painfully hard cock straining against his jeans he probably would’ve run away, preferring to listen to your neighbor get laid.

you were quick to undress, shame leaving you as you felt your body heat up, pussy aching at the thought of finally having the dick you so desperately craved.

jisung mimicked your movements, undressing and climbing next to you in bed. he sat awkwardly, hands making a weak attempt at covering his length. you kneeled in front of him, arms coming up to collect your hair, tying it up neatly.

he gulped nervously, there it was, that look he knew so well. there was a glint in your eyes, that hungry gaze that meant you only had one thing in mind. an orgasm.

nervous was an understatement, he couldn’t have picked a more normal girl to watch?

you were going to eat him whole. he was there, right where you wanted him, and you were finally going to cum. it was just you, his dick, and your insatiable hunger.

you reached for his hands, moving them away to reveal his hard length. he was long and girthy, tip flushed and leaking. your mouth watered as you reached out to grab his base, a shaky breath leaving his lips.

he could practically cry as you stuck your tongue out to get a taste of him, rubbing the wet muscle along the head of his length. you parted your lips to surround his tip, sucking lightly. the moan you let out vibrated along his shaft, his shaky hands coming up to grip at you tied hair.

you relaxed your jaw as you opened your mouth wider to take more of him in, hands moving away from his base to lightly massage his balls. he groaned loudly as you kept lowering yourself on him, nose touching his pubic bone. you were insane.

“holy shit, you fucking slut.”

he pulled you up by your hair, a gasp leaving your lips as oxygen entered your lungs. you looked up at him, eyes glassy, spit pooling in your mouth. he pushed your head back down on him, tip poking at the back of your throat as he bobbed you on him, lewd noises coming from your mouth as you slobbered on his length, spit dripping down to his balls,

“this is what you wanted hm? so desperate, that's why you let me watch you this whole time?”

he lifted you back up, eyes slightly widening at your crazy grin, head struggling to nod as his grip on your hair tightened. he brought his free hand up to wipe your face, spit running down your chin and onto your breasts.

“so fucking dirty, come here.” he pulled you towards his lap, holding you up so you’d hover above his length. he reached down to rub his tip along your folds, collecting your juices.

“look- look at how fucking wet you are- jesus- want me to fuck you that badly, you’re pathetic, you’d let anyone fuck this pussy wouldn’t you?”

you whined loudly, shaking your head, “no- no- just you- fuck- want you so bad, please.” you panted in his grasp, hips rocking against his tip.

“that’s right baby, only i have what this pretty little pussy wants- fuck.” the words died in jisung’s throat as you sank yourself down on his length, wet heat engulfing his length.

“shit shit shit, you’re so big-“ he watched as you threw your head back, hips now sitting flush against his lap.

any confidence jisung had prior to this moment was completely lost. his forehead ached at how tightly his brows knit together, mouth falling open in a silent moan. he was the ghost but your pussy was supernatural.

his head fell against your breasts as you raised your hips before slamming back down onto him building a slow rhythm.

you gripped his jaw, bringing his face up to look at you, “got nothing to say now huh, dirty pervert, wanted to fuck me so bad.” he nodded into your hand, eyes soft as he stared up at you, “i- i thought i was gonna go crazy, wanted you so bad- fuck-“ you brought your hips flush against him, grinding down hard, his thick cock rubbing against your walls.

he gripped your ass, helping your hips move against his, “please- please use me to cum- want it so bad.”

you smirked down at him, lifting your hips slowly to slide back down at an angle so the head of his cock would rub against your sweet spot. he watched you as moans erupted from your chest, eyes squeezing tightly as you softly bounced on him.

“such a good boy baby, cock so perfect- oh my-“ your hips fell against his, soft pants warm against his chest as you leaned your forehead on his shoulder.

he reached down to cup your face, “what’s wrong? what happened angel- are you okay?”

worry bloomed in his chest as he looked at your flushed face, tears building in your eyes as you pouted up at him, “i- i can’t- wanna cum so bad- please.”

oh? you didn’t know how to make yourself cum. “poor baby-“ he kissed your pout softly before lifting you off of him, “good thing i’m here right?” he flipped you around, pushing your head down and pulling your hips up, “let me make you feel good hm?”

you nodded, head rubbing against your messy bedsheets. he slapped his length against your ass, a soft chuckle leaving his lips as you moaned at the feeling, “you’re dirty.”

he grabbed the base of his cock, pressing into you weeping hole, the new angle making him feel deeper than before, “i love it.”

that was the last thing said before his hips started to pound against your ass, loud slapping noises filling your room. you pushed your ass back deeper into him, each stroke of his length running along your spasming walls.

he hunched over your body, hand sneaking around your hips to rub your clit, “come on, i know you can do it baby, just relax, i got you.”

you focused on his touches, the way his fingers rolled along you clit, free hand flicking at your hard nipples, his length pulsing inside of you, tip kissing your cervix with each thrust.

then you felt it, that feeling you craved so much, like a pit of fire growing in your stomach, burning you from within, “please- please just like that, keep- keep.” you gripped onto the sheets, tears threatening to spill as you drooled dumbly.

in another universe above you, jisung was practically choking. your pussy had grown impossibly tighter, gummy walls suffocating him. if he kept at this he would probably faint. but as he felt your body begin to twitch beneath him he knew he couldn’t stop now. he fucked you like it was his only purpose on this earth, fingers cramping against your clit, but he kept going, he couldn’t stop.

your voice grew louder, a mix of moans and choked sobs leaving your drooling mouth as you wept into the sheets, body curling into itself as you felt the heat from your stomach explode. you gasped for air, toes curling as your body tensed.

you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding,, body melting into the bed, a soft whine leaving your lips as you felt his length slip out of you.

he watched as you wiped at your face, tears staining your cheeks.

did you think this was over? he lifted you slightly, flipping you over on your back before climbing on top of you, legs straddling your chest. you hiccuped as he tapped your cheek with his still hard cock. “suck.” he placed his tip against your lips, moaning softly as you began to suck lightly.

your juices helped his hands slide against his length, his pace fast as he jerked himself off into your mouth. his free hand rubbed your cheek softly, tears wetting his fingertips, “so fucking pretty- look at me- fuck- i’m gonna cum.”

you looked up at him through your lashes, eyes soft and glassy. he was huge from this angle, lean body towering over you. his skin was flushed, pink spreading along his chest, bangs sticking to his forehead as he hunched over you.

"i'm-oh fuck-" his hand stilled, squeezing at his base. his mouth hung open in a silent moan, eyes crossing slightly as he spilled into your mouth. you moved your head away slightly as he rubbed some of his cum on your swollen lips.

he let out a loud sigh, tired body falling back onto your bed. he took a deep breath before sitting back up to reach for you, pulling you on top of him.

jisung looked down at you as your body shook against his chest, soft giggles leaving your lips, “i- i just had sex with a ghost! ha! i’m so fucking horny i’ve finally lost my mind!”

you slapped his chest lightly, then again, and again. “what?” he rubbed your back softly, “just wondering if you were actually real or if the gooning got to me.”

he chuckled as you started to giggle again, “you’re fucking insane and that is so fucking hot.”

a professional gooner and a pervert ghost aka a match made in heaven.

check out goons and ghosts the text imagine!

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