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bloomseishiro · 2 months ago

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DRUNKEN CONFESSIONS — ITOSHI RIN

౨ৎ — rin doesn’t drink often, and you begin to realize maybe that’s a good thing.

itoshi rin x reader. fluff, confessions, mentions of alcohol/intoxication, best friends to lovers :3, pro soccer player!rin, rin is drunk and sappy

word count. 1.6k

Despite Itoshi Rin’s popularity, he really wasn’t one to go out much.

He thought parties and clubs were a useless waste of time that could instead be spent practicing soccer, weight training, or even resting his body for a faster recovery.

So when you were visiting him overseas and begged him to take you to a party, you were surprised that Rin actually agreed. What was even more shocking was that he drank enough alcohol to get intoxicated.

Was this really the same Rin you knew? Sure, you haven’t seen your best friend in a while, but you knew this was uncharacteristic for him.

“I cannot believe you drank this much,” you groan as he leans his weight against your body. You all but had to drag him into an Uber so you could both get home safely. “Isn’t this usually the other way around?”

“Bad week,” he mumbles, unlocking his door after inputting the wrong numbers into the keypad twice already. “Really bad.”

Rin takes off his shoes before heading over to his kitchen, his movements didn’t have the same calculated grace as normal. You frown as you follow after him, gingerly taking the glass from his hands that he was trying to fill with water, and pouring it yourself.

“Here,” you say, handing it over to him. “Why was your week so bad? You didn’t text me about it. I don’t think I got any texts from you, at least.”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t wanna talk about it. Sae… We lost to his team during last week’s game.”

Your face falls as you rush to his side. “Why didn’t you tell me? You should’ve called, Rin! And you should’ve told me last week’s game was against him. I could’ve asked for an extension on my project and flown over to be with you.”

With a heavy sigh, Rin closes his eyes and drowsily leans his cheek onto the top of your head. “No. You kept talking about how important that project was for work. Couldn’t bother you.”

“You should bother me more,” you say with a pout, struggling to stay upright with all his weight on you. “I’m your best friend. You can lean on me.”

He does and you almost slip. Rin catches himself before you topple over and shoots you a lazy smile.

Even as his close friend, a smile from Rin isn’t something you see often. To witness him drunk and so disarmed was definitely a once-in-lifetime chance.

“Thought you said I could lean on you,” he murmurs.

“Figuratively,” you retort, pinching his alcohol-flushed cheeks affectionately. “Come let’s go to the couch and talk.”

“No,” he says stubbornly. “My bed.”

You eye the spiral staircase leading up to the second floor where the master bedroom was located and sigh. “Okay.”

At least you didn’t have to worry about not working out enough today. Half-carrying Rin around was more than enough cardio and weight training for you.

Somehow, you manage to make it up the stairs and onto his bed, only dropping him twice along the way, much to your credit. You plop onto his plush sheets in satisfaction and he takes a seat next to you.

“Now, tell me what else has been bothering you,” you demand, gesturing for him to follow suit and lay down beside you.

His intoxicated state must make him compliant, since he listened without any protest. “I thought after all these years, I’d prove I’m better than him. But he still won.”

“You are better than him,” you insist. “You’re my best friend, so you’re automatically just better. And you’re the best soccer player I know!”

“Do you know many?” he says dryly.

“Well, no.”

He snorts, attempting to flick your forehead but missing and getting your temple instead.

You playfully swat his hands away and Rin lightly pushes back. As if you’re children again, the swatting transforms into a harmless push and pull and ends in a fit of play wrestling. Of course, you have the willpower of a mountain and the desire to always win, and you end up sitting on top of Rin, your legs on either side of his body to pin him down.

“I win!” you proclaim. “And I won’t get off until I hear you say, ‘I’m the best striker in the world and next time I face him, I will beat Sae’s scrawny ass!’”

He lays there in surrender, but a wild glint in his eye tells you that, if he wanted, he could flip you over with ease. Even in his drunken state.

“I’m not saying that,” he deadpans.

“Then I guess I’m never getting off.”

“That’s not the threat you think it is,” says Rin, his hand lazily resting on the back of your thigh.

You blink. Normally, you would take those words as flirting of sorts, but you knew he was drunk and likely didn’t mean anything by it, so you simply shrugged it off. It’s hard to ignore the burn of his palm on the coolness of your upper thigh, but you try to appear unaffected.

“Fine, you don’t have to say it, but just know it’s true,” you say with a sniff, discreetly sliding off him to lay down away.

Reluctantly, Rin lets go of your thighs and allows you to detach yourself from him.

“And next time,” you turn your head to the side to face him, “don’t keep these things from me! I don’t care how busy I am with work. You’re my best friend. I’ll watch your game or visit you if you ever need me.”

Rin slowly reaches his hand out to smooth over the hairs on your eyebrow, his touch so delicate it surprises you.

Did drinking always make Rin this affectionate? you wonder worriedly. Suddenly, you were glad he didn’t like to go out to parties much.

“I’m glad you came,” he says quietly, his words mixing into a lazy slur. “This week was shit but it’s better now that you’re here.”

“Good. I’ll always be here for you, Rin.”

He closes his eyes and nods. “Being with you feels like home. Doesn’t matter if we’re in Japan or overseas. Just need you here.”

Your cheeks warm at his heartfelt tone that you really aren’t used to hearing at all.

Hiding your feelings of bashfulness, you say, “You’re so drunk, aren’t you?”

Rin’s brows crease in frustration. “No. Well— Yes, but that’s not why I’m saying that.”

“Suuure,” you drawl, booping his nose gently. “It’s okay, Rinnie. I had a feeling you’d be a lovey-dovey drunk.”

“I’m not,” he scowls, a noise of irritation escaping him as he grabs your hand that kept touching his face.

You raise your brow at him questioningly. “You’re not? Then how can you explain your sappy behavior right now?”

Still frowning, Rin shifts his grip from your hand to your wrist, holding it firmly. “Because it’s you. I’d only be this cringe and stupid around you. Because for whatever reason, I like you.”

You try to wriggle your hand away to hide your face in embarrassment, but his grasp is too strong. Your eyes dart around frantically, trying to avoid his intense stare, but, damn, is it hard to look away.

Is he that drunk or did he mean it? Even if he was drunk, maybe he did still mean it…

“I’m being serious,” says Rin, finally letting go of your wrist. “I may be a few drinks in but I mean it.”

A few drinks was certainly rounding-down, but you decided not to pester him.

“You mean it now, but will you tomorrow when you’re sober?” you ask with a remorseful smile. “Let’s not complicate things just for you to regret it in the morning.”

Moving closer to you, Rin pokes the squish of your cheek and you giggle. “I won’t regret it.”

“There’s no way you can be certain of that right now,” you say, and his face falls. “But I’ll still be here tomorrow. I’ll be here for you whenever you need. If you really do mean it, tell me again when you’re sober. Okay?”

“I will,” he vows, with a firm nod. “I’ll set a reminder on my phone.”

“You’re so romantic,” you say sarcastically, scrunching your nose up at him.

“Shut up.”

Rin’s expression softens as he looks at you through the dim light of his bedroom lamp. You examine him as well. His lashes are as long as ever and you reach out to trace them. Rin’s eyes flutter shut at your touch. You notice his jaw and cheekbones are more defined, reminding you this isn’t the same round-faced kid you were once best friends with.

This is Rin. The professional soccer player and famous athlete who is still your best friend, but could be more.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” he says again, brushing your hair out of your face. “But for now, can I give you this?”

His face moves closer to yours and you shut your eyes in anticipation. Instead of a kiss on your mouth, you feel soft, warm lips against your forehead. Your heart skips a beat at the feeling and the moment Rin pulls away, you pull him back to hide your face in his chest.

“Maybe you should get drunk more often,” you mumble teasingly, voice muffled in his shirt.

“Don’t need to be drunk to do this. Not anymore.”

Needless to say, you couldn’t wait to wake up tomorrow and hear a fully sober confession from Rin. But for now, being here in his arms that feel like home is enough.

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manmuncher777 · 3 months ago

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CARDIO

The cardio machine at the gym weren’t working for Toji today, how else will he burn some calories…..

The sound of your kettle boiling echoed in the back group of your apartment as you sat watching TV. It was 9pm and Toji was due home soon. You poured yourself a green tea, sitting yourself back on the couch that felt a lot more lonely this evening. You didn’t really know why, after all Toji was gone to the gym most nights of the week for a few hours, it was nothing different, but you couldn’t help but miss him. And you were certainly missing him more than usual tonight. Maybe it was because you didnt really get to see him today, you got back from work just as he was leaving, sharing a few minutes with each other before you watched him leave. When he got back, you were out to lunch with friends. You wanted nothing more but to screw the plans and stay with him, especially with how he was looking at you in that moment. But you couldn’t bail on your friends.

And when you got back, he was getting ready to head out to the gym. Not that you didnt understand, of our se you did. You both has busy schedules and his gym was very important to him. He got moody when he would miss a day - which was very rarely. But the room felt a little bit chillier without his presence. You were doing your best to concentrate on the tv, or even the cup of tea that warmed your hands. But nothing

You were preoccupied on focusing on trying to hear when his car pulls up. You had lived together long enough for you to be able to memorise the sound. You paused your breathing as you heard the familiar motor pull in, shut off and the door shut.

It was like you were first dating him again, you heart suddenly picking up at the thought of him seeing you. You fussed with your hair quickly, you knew you had a few minutes before he got there and you didnt want it to look silly after lying on the couch.

Quickly shifting yourself, pretending to focus on whatever was on the tv when you heard his keys in the door. Part of you wanted to run there like an eager puppy who hadn’t seen their owner all day, but you had some self restraint - some.

The key turning in the door was all it took for your ears to perk up, body instinctively rising from the couch as heavy footsteps filled the entranceway. Toji was back.

You practically bounced toward him, excitement bubbling over as you caught sight of his familiar frame stepping inside. He looked… well, like he always did—too damn good. His black compression shirt clung to his broad chest, highlighting every ridge of muscle beneath, and the lazy way he slung his gym bag over his shoulder sent something warm curling in your stomach. A few damp strands of his dark hair clung to his forehead, evidence of a workout that, knowing him, had been brutal.

His sharp green eyes lifted at the sight of you, and the smirk that tugged at his lips was immediate. “Someone’s happy to see me.”

“I haven’t seen you all day,” you huffed, ignoring the teasing lilt in his voice as you stepped closer. You didn’t hesitate to slide your arms around his waist, pressing into the heat of his body. He smelled like sweat and the faint remnants of his cologne, an intoxicating mix that made your fingers twitch against his back.

Toji chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest as he dropped his bag and let his arms wrap around you in return, pressing you in close. “Yeah? Missed me that bad, huh?”

You tilted your chin up to meet his gaze, rolling your eyes at the cocky grin stretched across his face. “Obviously.”

His thumb traced absent circles against your spine, the other hand sliding down, sneaking just beneath the hem of your shirt, fingers pressing into the warm skin at your lower back. “You’re cute.” His voice dipped lower, rougher. “Wish I could’ve come home earlier, but the damn gym was slacking today. Cardio machines were down.”

You blinked, catching the way his smirk deepened, the glint in his eyes nothing short of trouble.

“So I didn’t get my usual workout in,” he continued, fingers pressing just a bit firmer against your skin, keeping you locked against him. “Still need to get some form of cardio in, though.”

Heat licked up your spine, heart hammering against your ribs as his meaning settled between you.

“…Toji.”

“What?” His grin was downright sinful now, his hands roaming as he leaned in close, breath warm against your ear. “You got a better suggestion?”

You scoff, shaking your head at him. “That’s tragic. Really, my heart aches for you.” Trying your best to resist his charm

Toji hums, stepping further into the apartment, and it’s only then that you realize how imposing he is, how much space he takes up. Broad shoulders, sculpted arms, those hands—God, those hands. He drops his gym bag onto the floor with a dull thud, stretching his neck from side to side like he’s shaking off the last remnants of his workout.

“Tch. Guess I’ll have to find another way to get my heart rate up,” he muses, slow and deliberate, his eyes dragging over you.

The look sends a shiver down your spine. It’s lazy, assessing, like he’s already decided how the next few minutes will go.

You don’t move when he steps closer, nor when he lifts a hand to your jaw, tilting your face up toward him. His palm is warm, calloused from years of combat and training, but he’s gentle when he strokes his thumb along the curve of your cheek.

“Missed you today,” you admit, voice quieter now, betraying just how much you mean it.

A small smirk tugs at his lips, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “Yeah?”

You nod, feeling your breath catch as he dips his head, nose brushing yours, lips just barely grazing—teasing, testing, waiting.

“Show me, then,” he murmurs.

It’s all the permission you need.

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his tank top, and you pull him in, pressing your lips to his like you’ve been craving it all day—because you have. Toji meets you with just as much want, his grip tightening at your jaw, the other hand sliding down to your waist, anchoring you against him.

He kisses you slow at first, savoring it, drawing out each movement like he has all the time in the world. But it doesn’t stay slow for long. His teeth graze your bottom lip, a groan rumbling from his chest as he deepens the kiss, taking and taking until you’re breathless. Until all you can do is melt into him.

And just like that, the tension from before shifts into something else entirely.

Something dangerous.

Something intoxicating.

And you don’t think you’d stop him even if you could.

He has hardly even gotten in the door, discarding his gym bag and keys somewhere on the floor, backing you up until you’re pressed tightly between the cool of the wall and his rock hard chest.

His familiar musk filled your nose as you kissed him, amplified by the effects of his workout. You were addicted.

His hands trailed all over your body, haphazardly grabbing at any skin he could, squeezing and gripping as your lips clashed with his. Soon those travelling hands finding them hem of your shirt, ripping it off you in seconds. He’s breaking away from the kiss, only to strip you down before him. Eyes sleazily tracing over your figure as he’s pulling your shorts down too,. His eyes widening at the sight before him.

“No panties sweetheart?” He asked, licking his scarred lips as the sight of your bare cunt, just begging for his attention, begging for his touch.

“Really missed you…” Was the only explanation you could offer him. You waste no time. Not taking a moment to be conscious as you slip your bra off as well. Standing naked in front of the burly man, allowing him to take you in. His form towered over you, and with the look in those eyes you were certain he was sizing you up, like a lion with its prey.

That look in his eyes, his iris’ darkened with lust. His hands resting on your hips, gripping tightly. Shit, he really missed you too.

Your pretty little eyes were starting to get to him, every bat of your lashes like you werent just sat here with no panties waiting for him to come home and fuck you. This perfectly manicured nails of your tracing over his abs, trying to find the hem of his compression shirt. Eyebrows furrowing cutely as you tried to find the edge of the tight material.

“Tojiii~” You whined, starting to get frustrated with your inability to strip the hunk in front of you.

He knew how worked up you got after he had done a work out. You were fully aware he was huge before a workout, but that after workout pump he got was fucking delicious to look at. Hi biceps prominent and threatening to tear his sleeves, his chest - puffed out so pretty. Fuck his tits looked amazing in that black shirt. Veins still building down his forearms and hands in jagged lines. And His back, I mean you know what they say. Hate to see him evade but looovvveee to watch him go. You could spend hours looking at the defines muscle flexing in the light with every move he made. If you were lucky he would send you a gym pic after an escape I ally hard night. They went into a special folder on your phone… for no paticular reason

He understood what you were trying so desperately to beg him for. A light chuckle leaving his lips, without taking his eyes off of you, he peeled the tight material from his sculpted skin.

You eyes going as wide as sauce pans as you shamelessly started at his body, a sight you could never get tired of. You wanted to gnaw on his bicep.

“You’re drooling there princess.” He teases, mock wiping the corner of your lips with his thumb. You scowl at him, stopping his hand before it can pull away and taking his thumb into your mouth, wrapping your lips tightly around the digit, swirling your tongue around it while giving him the most innocent look you could muster. His mouth gapes in awe for a second, a quiet ‘oh’ leaving his lips.

He doesn’t allow himself to be distracted for long, he already knows your slutty little trick. He pulls his thumb from between your lips with a wet ‘pop’. Taking the hand and wrapping it around your throat. A pathetic whimper leaves your lips, and out the corner of his eye he can notice you rubbing your thighs together, trying to release some of the pressure there.

“So needy sweetheart, haven’t even touched you yet.” He whispers close to you ear, lips brushing against the skin. That contact was enough to have you shivering. You felt like a virgin being touched for the first time, thats how badly you needed him. Everything he did had you squirming and moaning for him.

You couldn’t care, you needed him right now. You didnt even want to waste time on foreplay at this point - lord knows you were already soaked enough for him to slip right in. All you could think about was his bulging cock that was standing prominently in his grey jogger. Just begging for you to release it.

Your hands flying down to the waistband of his joggers, not deterred even when his grip on your throat tightens, you can feel that delicious wooziness right as he releases.

“Fucking hell baby, acting like you haven’t got dick for years. Such a slut.” He rasps at you, while it could sound like it, he certainly wasnt complaining. He loved when he had you all needy like this, begging for him in every way.

A deep groan leaving his chest as you palm him through his boxer, soon dragging them down his legs also, throwing them away in a similar direction that you did his joggers. Your eyes never leaving his as you spat in your palm, wasting no time as you wrapped your hand around his thick cock. The tip so pretty and pink, slowly leaking white pearls of pre with each stroke you eagerly gave him.

He choked out a moan, not expecting you to be so very eager “shit- slow down baby”

“I need you Toji. Now.” That look in your eyes, so demanding and needy.

With that sentence you definitely didn’t have to ask the man twice

Showing off his strength for you was something he was used to. He fucking loved watching you drool over him when he was f;Lexington or doing some kind of heavy lifting. So why not show off for his girl a bit?

Not wasting a second before hes sweeping you up in his arms, draping each leg over each of his forearms as he presses you tightly against the wall, hoisting you up as if you weighed nothing to him.

You were folded so perfectly for him, with no room in your mind to be conscious about how vulnerable you were right now, you didnt care. You wanted him to destroy you. Having him pick you up so easily made your head spin.

“This what you wanted doll? Hmmm?” he smirks at you, eyes glancing down to where he was lining his throbbing tip up with your entrance. His perfect cock leaking so prettily. Teasing you as it poked right at your needy hole, gathering your wetness. Small pearls of precum leaking out so beautifully.

“Wanted me to fuck you like this? Like how strong I am for you?”

His eyes flickering up now, not wanting to miss the already fucked out look on your face before he had hardly got his hands on you. Chuckling to himself as all you could manage was a nod. Glossy eyes begging him to make a move, but he wasn’t going to be that kind yet.

“Poor baby, so needy. All cock drunk and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Dark tufts of hair drooping into his face, his smug, cocky face.. You knew your neediness was a boost to his ego, but you also got off on how cocky he could be sometimes. How he could render you speechless with that fucking smirk of his and a little bit of sweet talking.

Not trusting your voice anymore, a small whine was the only sound that left your throat.

“Oh? Where’s the big girl from earlier that was demanding I fuck her?” He certainly wasnt making it easy for you, and you were trying so hard to concentrate on what he was saying, to keep your eyes locked on his. But you couldn’t help trickling down to where his thick cock sat at your entrance. Doing your best to shift your hips forwards slightly. Your movement limited due to the position he had you in, but anything was better than nothing, you were getting desperate now. Being so close to that sweet stretch.

He knew what he was doing to you, he knew he was pushing you to your limits, but he wanted to see you break for him. Leaning in even closer to you, lips tracing the shell of your ear as he spoke to you so sweetly “use your words for me, like a big girl”

He could be so cruel to you, but that was exactly why you loved him.

“P-please Toji~”

Fuck

Fuck you

He could never deny that voice, that beautiful begging with a tinge of sadness. That desperation that always guilted him into giving you whatever you wanted. God he wanted that pretty voice to ring in his mind for eternity.

Not having the will to deny you any longer, his hips shifted forwards.

Shit

It really hadn’t been that long, but either way how tight you were squeezing him you could think it had been years.

Light moans left you with every second that passed. Relishing in the feeling of being so perfectly full again, like your walls were modded to his cock. Only fulfilled when he was the one filling you.

Soon his hips began to rock, oh so slowly. Back and forth, each drag of his cock against your velvety walls pulling moans that got louder and louder as his movement picked up pace.

The cool of the wall now contrasted by the heat radiating off of your now sweat sheened skin. Your body shifting up the wall slightly with each thrust you received.

Unable to do anything but just take what he was giving to you, completely at he mercy as he propped you up. Fucking you so deep.

He was ruining you now, hips picking up to a brutal place as he slammed into you. Listening to the sound of your pitchy moans. Light huffs leaving him with each movement.

Your eyes lolling open only to be met with a heavenly sight, your buff boyfriend.

Biceps rippling with the task of holding you up, veins popping through the skin in jagged lines. A light gloss of sweat reflecting off the muscles that made them look practically edible. You were amazed he was still able to keep you up with such ease, even as he fucked you.

“T-T-Toji” your voice came out as a wobble, his name broken up with each thrust of his hips.

His swollen tip hitting deep inside of you. This position giving him to angle his hips so cruelly. Where he knew you needed it. That spongy spot inside of you. Cock pushing deeper and deeper into your gummy walls.

“What’s wrong? Feeling good ma?” He grunts out

A pathetic nod is all you can manage in that moment, your mind turned to jelly. Taking everything that he was giving you.

A dry laugh left toji as he continued his thrusts, jackhammering into your needy pussy. Your hands desperately grabbing at his biceps, nails clawing at the skin. That sharp sensation only spurring toji on.

This was his favourite way to fuck you, all needy and rushed. Toji loved being able to take his time with you. This evening where he would tease you for hours before giving you what you both wanted. But there was something more sensual about your sessions like this. They were ruled by need and want with little regard for anything else. The rushed movements, the needy kisses that left him gasping for air. The little whine in your voice that you knew would get him to give you anything you wanted. It had him feral. He can take him time with you later, but in moments like this all he wants is to give you what you both need.

When you go all sparkly eyed and cock drunk for him, he can hardly hold back. He loves seeing his girl all broken for him.

Toji could already feel his high nearing, but was doing his best to hold it off, to resist from cumming early, shooting deep inside your inviting pussy.

His cocky demeanour fading now, dripping away slowly and fading into something a little bit more raw now. Depraved and needy. his head dropping onto your shoulder again, heavy breathing into the supple skin, breathing in your scent.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he growled against your throat, his lips dragging over the sensitive skin there, nipping at your pulse. His voice was shredded, low and needy, vibrating straight through your chest. “Look at you, baby. Fuckin’ need me that bad, huh?”

You could barely answer, could barely think — the only thing you knew was the crushing strength of his body against yours, the hard, heavy feel of him grinding his tip in the deepest parts of you

Your fingers tangled in his sweaty hair, tugging, desperate. “Toji,” you whined, squirming in his hold, your whole body burning for him. “Please. I need you so bad—”

He chuckled — dark and deep and wicked — and pulled back just enough to look at you, green eyes flashing with something hungry.

“You’re fuckin’ drippin’ for me,” he muttered,. “Bet you’d let me do anything to you right now, huh?”

You nodded frantically, shame completely forgotten, hips chasing his touch

And Toji… oh, Toji lived for it.

He smirked, cocky and lazy, like he had all the time in the world to ruin you.

“You sure you can take it, baby?” he rasped, rolling his hips against you in shallow, teasing thrusts. “Might be too big for you like this.”

You sobbed his name, desperate, rutting against him. You would take him, you would beg for it — anything, just to be full of him.

Your back arched off the wall, a wrecked, broken sound ripping from your throat — the stretch of him so overwhelming, so perfect, you could barely breathe.

Toji swore under his breath, hands tightening on your thighs like a vice. “Fuck — that’s it, baby. That’s my girl. Taking it so good.”

His strength had you completely at his mercy, legs trembling, hands scrabbling at his slick shoulders as he fucked you into the wall like he couldn’t get close enough.

“Mine,” he growled into your ear, rutting into you harder. “Mine, you fuckin’ hear me?”

You nodded frantically, sobbing out his name, every nerve ending in your body sparking white-hot with pleasure.

“Say it,” he snarled, cock filling you so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach. “Say you’re fuckin’ mine, baby.”

“Yours—!” you cried, clenching around him, falling apart in his arms. “Yours, Toji, all yours—!”

And he rewarded you — oh, he rewarded you — with even rougher thrusts, chasing both of your highs like a man starved.

You came first, shattering with a scream against his shoulder, and Toji followed right after, groaning low in your ear as he pumped you full of him, thick and heavy and endless.

Neither of you moved for a long moment — just panting against each other, sweaty and shaking and absolutely wrecked

His forehead pressed against yours, and you swore you heard a chuckle — low and satisfied — as he shifted you in his arms.

“Fucking insatiable,” he muttered. “Might not even let you walk after that, baby.”

Neither of you moved at first — panting, bodies trembling, clinging to each other like you might drown if you let go.

But Toji… Toji wasn’t satisfied.

Not even close.

He kept you pinned against the wall with one arm, shifting his grip just enough to thrust into you again — slow and deep, the obscene wet sound of it filling the air.

You whined weakly, too sensitive, too wrecked — but it didn’t matter. Toji wasn’t letting you go.

“Still so fuckin’ tight,” he rasped against your throat, dragging his teeth over your skin. “Still need it, don’t you, baby? Still clenching like you’re beggin’ for more.”

Your only answer was a broken sob, your legs trembling around his arms, toes curling helplessly.

You were done for. Your mind was nothing but static, every nerve in your body frayed and buzzing, but Toji just kept going — shallow, grinding thrusts that kept you right on the precipice of falling apart again.

“Fuck,” he groaned, dragging his cock almost all the way out before slamming back in, deep and heavy. “Listen to how fuckin’ messy you are for me, baby. You hear that? That’s all you.”

You couldn’t even be embarrassed — not with the filthy, wet sounds of your body taking him so eagerly, not with the way your cunt was fluttering around him, so desperate for more.

His strength was unreal — holding you up like you weighed nothing, fucking up into you like he was starving, like you were the only thing that could satisfy the ache burning through his veins.

You babbled his name, mindless, clinging to his shoulders, feeling another orgasm building so fast it was making you dizzy.

Toji smirked when he felt you tighten around him.

“You gonna cum for me again, pretty girl?” he panted, voice almost smug, almost sweet. “Gonna cream all over my cock like a good little slut?”

You sobbed his name, nodding frantically, desperate, delirious.

“Please, Toji, please—”

“Yeah?” he muttered, his voice filthy, a little slurred with pleasure. “Go on, baby. Fuckin’ make a mess. Wanna feel you lose it on me.”

And with one more brutal, grinding thrust, he had you unraveling — cumming so hard you swore you blacked out for a second, your whole body convulsing in his arms.

You screamed his name, the sound muffled against his shoulder, clinging to him like he was the only thing anchoring you to the earth.

Toji swore viciously under his breath, feeling the way you pulsed and milked him.

“Fuck — fuck, baby, you’re squeezin’ the life outta me—”

He thrust up into you one last time, hard and deep, hips jerking as he came — hot and thick, painting your walls with a broken groan, his whole body tensing as he buried himself to the hilt.

Neither of you moved, both of you shaking, slick and sweaty and ruined, clinging to each other like you might die if you let go.

Toji pressed his forehead against yours, breathing you in, his voice a low, guttural growl.

“Still not fuckin’ done with you,” he muttered, kissing you messy and desperate, grinding against you again like he could already get hard just from the way you whimpered.

“Gonna fuckin’ ruin you tonight, pretty girl.”

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #toji fushiguro smut #toji x you #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji zenin #toji smut #toji zenin smut #toji fushiguro #toji x reader

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earlysunshines · 5 months ago

Text

down for you

kang haerin x fem!reader ; fluff

synopsis: you beg haerin to go to some party and 1. haerin hates parties 2. she wasn’t even invited… but if it’s you asking she’s always willing.

warnings: mentions of alcohol ; not my best work tee bee aych 💔 ; ermmm pining ; nothing else really ; anything else i didn't mention ; not proofread

a/n: i haven't written for her yet bc no ideas LOL I prolly won't write much for her but!! this song is soooo her and the main inspo for this so yeah lololol enjoy :-p

haerin’s building is across campus from yours—a good walk and a few flights of stairs to be exact. regardless, she’s on her way there because you forgot your laptop case.

does haerin have to be doing this? absolutely not. her building is a five minute walk from where you’ve parked, and you even told her it would be better to wait for you. still, haerin meets you halfway just so she can accompany you on the way back to your lecture room and then to your car. it’s extra cardio for haerin and more time for you, so she’s not complaining.

“you didn’t have to come all the way here ‘rin.” you giggle, grabbing not only your laptop case, but also the pencil case you managed to forget as well. “the campus is huge.”

“it’s fine.” haerin simply responds, waiting for you to zip your bag and put it back on. she smiles when you do, then follows you back to your car—a good ten minute walk away.

the rest of the way back, haerin listens to you talk about your classes with her head tilted in your direction. when you step a little too close to the edge of the sidewalk, she reaches out, fingers catching the sleeve of your sweater in a small, familiar tug as she guids you back toward the center of the path. she keeps her eyes on your most of the way back, only glancing down once in a while when you glance back at her and to avoid tripping over the crack in the path that gets at least ten students a day.

you two have had this routine since you became friends last semester: meeting up somewhere, walking back to the car together, and almost always studying or spending time together after your classes are over.

(the only time you two aren’t together is when you’re in your respective buildings, time that both of you dread—it doesn’t make any sense that the engineering and public health buildings are so distanced… they’re on the same wavelength, no?)

when you finally reach your car, you’re still mid-conversation, the rhythm is easygoing just as always. but then you say something that makes haerin falter.

“i know you’re not really a party person… but my friends invited me to one this friday and they really want to meet you.”

she pauses, fingers hovering over the passenger door handle. “me?”

“yeah, you.”

she blinks, settling herself into the seat beside you. “why… me?”

“i told them about you.” you grin as if the answer is obvious.

“actually?”

“how could i not? you’re my closest friend, haerin.” you glance over at her, smiling. “it’s just a small party thing, and i wanted you to be there.”

a lot is running through haerin’s mind. why would you mention her to your friends? is this party so important that she has to go? who are these ‘friends’? what will the party be like? haerin shivers a bit. the thought of being surrounded by new people, forced into small talk, makes her a bit uneasy. there is no way she is going to this party.

but then you lean in a little, tilting your head, eyes bright and expectant, and suddenly it’s hard to say no.

“we’ll just drop by,” you add quickly, like you can sense the hesitation in the way her jaw tightens and look averts. “just for a bit. and after, i’ll treat you to ice cream.” you promise.

she doesn’t have to go to this party, but you can’t lie that after so much time with her it’s hard when she’s not at arms length your friends have even rolled their eyes at the mere mention of her just because you always have something to say about her—whether it’s something simple or unrelated to whatever you and your friends were talking about earlier.

the amount of time you spend with haerin is enough to lead to the inevitable: growing feelings. how could you not grow fond of haerin in a way that’s more than platonic? she’s pretty, soft-spoken, and caring. she caught you by surprise that moment you bumped into her during your first day of university, and now she’s someone you can’t imagine being away from. you even call her almost every night.

plus, what you feel is the same on haerin’s end. she noticed you immediately, and the fact that you two are even this close still baffles her. she’d never admit anything, though. there is nothing other than her not-so-subtle looks and actions that could reveal what she truly feels.

she bites the inside of her cheek. haerin does not want to go. but you give her the look and she crumbles at how pretty you look. she can already picture you smiling at her over a cup of ice cream afterward, laughing about whatever might happen at the party.

haerin sighs, pretending to be reluctant when she mumbles, “i mean, i guess. if you want me there… then i’ll go.”

your sigh of relief is immediate, and before haerin can brace herself, you’re leaning over and wrapping your arms around her in a quick, excited hug. she stiffens for half a second, caught off guard, before her body relaxes against yours.

she smiles into you, taking in the scent of your signature peachy scent; haerin doesn’t need a mirror to know that her face is burning.

—

haerin is in another situation that has her face burning once more.

she’s tends to get sleepy when she’s around you, especially when you both are cozy in your bed. it didn’t take long for her to pass out on your bed once you both finished studying. usually she wakes up to either you sleeping, studying, or doomscrolling. this time it’s doomscrolling.

her little shuffle gets your attention; the pressure around your waist loosening makes you hum. you turn to see haerin blinking a few times, then rubbing her eyes.

“hey.” you giggle.

“hi.” haerin responds sleepily, letting her body go limp again as she tries to take her leg out from between both of yours—you tug her leg back, keeping it there. it’s a little intimate for ‘just friends,’ definitely. but haerin feels all warm inside and you’re, well, just you, so she doesn’t complain. you don’t seem to mind either.

“you were out for like, an hour.”

“was i?”

“mhm.” you say as you turn to face her. her eyes are a little puffy, but it’s not that noticeable, more cute than noticeable if anything. you move her hair out of her face and smile, snuggling a little closer. “you’re so pretty.”

she laughs nervously. “i just woke up.”

“yeah, and you’re pretty.”

haerin is way too sleepy to deal with this, so she instead thanks the dimmed room for concealing her blush and closes her eyes once more. her smile lingers as she moves to face the ceiling, and it deepens when she feels you scooting closer.

“what time is it?” she asks.

“five.” you mumble, yawning lightly. “party is at seven.”

oh. haerin has completely forgotten about the party after being so comfortable, and now, the sudden realization shakes her awake.

“but let’s nap a little more, i’m comfy.” you insist.

haerin is anything but sleepy right now. “are you sure we shouldn’t be getting ready? what’s the dress code? do we have to look flashy?”

“relax,” you say, draping your arm over her. “it’s just a house party. baggy jeans and a t-shirt would be more than enough if i’m going to be honest. it’s casual, nothing crazy.”

“okay…”

—

okay, maybe you shouldn’t go to that party.

haerin just walked out of your room in a simple outfit—just like you had said—but wow, she looks so good you think that maybe you should keep her here for yourself. her hair is still a little messy from her nap as well, so she’s tied it up. you always liked her with her hair up, and down… you like her with any hairstyle.

“do i look okay for the—”

“yes.” you cut off her question. “very.” you walk over, look her up and down, then snap a picture for safe keeping.

“what was that for?”

“you look really good, haerin.”

“oh.” she says flatly, feeling a lump form in her throat. “you do too.”

you both smile at each other for another moment, feeling the weight of the tension push you two down.

“let’s go?” you ask, lingering in front of her.

“yeah.”

…

there’s a strange stiffness in every part of your body as you drive to the destination. haerin is in the passenger seat on her phone looking like that, like she’s just been pulled out of a magazine. at each red light you try to steal a glimpse of her, silently in awe.

once you arrive, the party is already in full swing when you and haerin step in. the music vibrates lowly throughout the air, voices overlap in bursts of laughter, and conversation accompanies the house-type tune.

your friend haewon appears out of nowhere, beaming as she throws her arms around you in a tight hug. you laugh, hugging her back just as eagerly.

“y/n! i’m glad you could make it.” haewon beams.

“i knew you loved me.”

“okay, not too much now…” she jokes, pulling away and turning to haerin, giving her a much smaller, polite hug. haerin barely has time to react before she pulls away, grinning.

“you must be haerin?”

haerin blinks, nodding slowly. “yeah.” her voice is calm, unreadable, but you catch her ears turning pink and the way her fingers twitch slightly at her sides.

haewon gives you a knowing look before disappearing into the kitchen.

haerin exhales, subtle but sharp, and you glance over at her. she already looks a little overwhelmed, her shoulders tense, eyes scanning the room like she’s trying to find an escape route.

you nudge her shoulder before moving further inside, holding her hand as you do so. your shoulders stay close, touching, and she doesn’t pull away. instead, she stays close, like you’re the only steady thing in this chaos of the party.

“we’ll stay just for a bit,” you assure. “i just need to say hi to some people, have small talk, and before you know we’ll be at the ice cream place you like.”

she nods, her hand tightening around yours. “okay, just a bit.”

—

it has not been just a bit. it’s been nearly an hour—fourty-seven minutes to be exact.

(haerin has been checking her phone each time you run into a new person.)

she would be lying if this whole thing weren’t interesting, though the best part about meeting all these people is them mentioning how much you mention her and watching your blush grow.

“we’ll be talking about the menu at a restaurant and she’ll mention you. i remember we were getting dessert and she pointed to something going, ‘haerin loves this.’” one of your friends jokes. “you two aren’t dating, no?”

both you and haerin simultaneously freeze, with you breaking the awkwardness with a laugh. “i– no.” you push his shoulder.

“okay, but you do talk about her a lot.” another friend nudges, grinning.

you blink. “do i really?”

“yeah, so much.”

haerin shifts beside you, her usual composure slipping just slightly as she looks down. there’s a small smile on her face as she pretends to be interested in the hem of her sleeve.

the topic changes before either of you fully acknowledge it, too attentive to the tension. there’s a small warmth lingering in your chest—half embarrassment, half something else.

the rest of the night consists of haerin following you around as you bump into others, and as the night goes on the more unbearable it gets. you seem to be meeting people who aren’t your friends, maybe acquaintances? classmates? whoever they are, you seem to be completely oblivious to how often they flirt with you.

here and there they’ll lean in, laugh a little too hard at your jokes, and angle their bodies toward you like they’re waiting for a moment to catch your attention. it’s so blatantly obvious that the past three people have been trying to please you, but you don’t notice.

haerin notices. she notices everything, but she doesn’t say anything. she just keeps her expression neutral as she stays close. she takes it because she promised herself to get through this just for you, just for tonight.

but then there’s him.

some guy—intak, you think? some guy you recognize from your introduction to kinesiology class—confident from the drinks in his system, slides up next to you. his smile is a little too easy as he leans in, voice dropping to something lower, more deliberate.

“wow, you’re stealing the spotlight here, you know?”

you laugh, oblivious, waving him off. “that’s not true.”

“no, seriously. you’re gorgeous.” he gives you a smirk, winking in a way that makes your brows turn in confusion. “we have a class together—kinesiology and public health analytics—i see you and i can’t help but think you’re going to the be the reason i fail. you’re so pretty.”

“aw, that’s not true.” you chuckle nervously.

he moves his hand, not quite touching you, but close enough that haerin stiffens beside you.

and that’s when haerin decides she’s had enough.

her hand snakes around your waist, pulling you away from him and earning a confused, defeated look from the guy. you turn to her in surprise at the sudden action, and also because wow your heart is beating fast from that.

“ice cream?” she reminds you, her voice calm but leaving no room for argument. “you promised.”

you glance at her, the weight of her hand on your chest grounding you just as much as it flusters. it’s only then that you realize how long you’ve actually been at this party.

“oh—right. okay, let’s go.”

she pulls you in closer, leading you toward the door and out, her fingers warm against you.

—

“i’m sorry for keeping you cooped up there so long, i lost track of time.” you apologize, starting the engine of your car.

“it’s fine.” haerin lies, sinking in the seat and turning away from you. her words feel flat, like an automatic response rather than the truth.

anyone else would believe her, but you know her well enough to recognize the subtle signs—how she tugs at her sleeves, how her fingers tap against her knee impatiently, how she shifts just slightly as if trying to make herself smaller. you don’t push her, instead focusing on the road, letting the silence settle between you.

the drive to the ice cream shop is quiet, and when you finally park, haerin barely glances at the menu before mumbling, “strawberry is fine.”

you don’t comment on how unenthusiastic she sounds, just get the order and hand her the cup before grabbing your own little cup of mint chocolate chip. she takes it with a quiet “thanks,” and the two of you sit in your car, parked beneath a streetlight that casts a dim glow.

usually, your silences with haerin are comfortable and easy. but this one is suffocating, even the soft hum of music doesn’t ease the tension.

something unspoken lingers, and you let it continue to hang in the air for a bit, hoping she’ll say something first. she doesn’t.

with a sigh, you lower the volume of the music and glance at her.

“okay.” you say, breaking the silence. “why are you so moody? is it because of the party? if you didn’t want to go you didn’t have to. you should’ve just told me.”

haerin’s grip on her spoon tightens, her gaze fixed on the half-melted ice cream. “i’m just tired.”

you stare at her, unimpressed. “why are you lying to me?”

she exhales through her nose but doesn’t respond. shifting in your seat, you turn fully toward her, searching her face. “i know something is up. did my friends say something off? what is it? i’ve never seen you like this before.”

she stays quiet, biting down and tensing her jaw. for a moment, you wonder if she’s going to brush you off again.

haerin exhales sharply, setting her ice cream down in the cup holder before finally turning to face you. “do people always flirt with you like that?”

you blink, caught off guard by the sudden question. “huh?”

she scoffs, shaking her head. “you’re so oblivious,” she mutters. “everyone at that party—everyone but your actual friends—was flirting with you, and you didn’t even notice. you barely even reacted to intak. if i hadn’t pulled you away, you probably would’ve stayed there without a clue.”

you furrow your brows, trying to recall the interactions from earlier. “i mean… i just thought they were being nice.” you say slowly.

haerin lets out a humorless laugh, like she can’t believe how clueless you are.

you tilt your head at her, watching the way she pokes at her ice cream aggressively even if it’s half soup at this point. “why is it such a big deal?”

“it’s— it’s not.” she looks away, but there’s something in her tone, something in the way her fingers tighten around the fabric of her top.

you narrow your eyes. “wait—” you lean in slightly, voice dropping. “are you jealous?” it almost sounds like you’re teasing, but the curiosity in your tone is overpowering.

haerin stiffens, the tips of her ears turning red. “no, why would i be jealous?”

that’s a lie.

your eyes widen as realization dawns, and you nudge her arm, your teasing smile growing. “you are jealous.”

she glares at you, lips pressed into a thin line, but you can see the way she swallows hard like she’s debating whether to keep denying it or not. you’ve never seen her so nervous.

you press further, pushing past the hesitation between you. “why would you even be jealous over people flirting with me?”

haerin exhales, long and slow, before finally mumbling, “because…”

“because?” you echo, urging her to continue.

“it just— i can’t, y/n. can we go home? my things are at your place and i need to get home.”

“it’s a friday.”

“y/n, please.”

you frown, deciding to stop yourself from pressing on further to keep haerin from getting overwhelmed again. you hesitate before shifting the car to ‘drive,’ catching haerin turning her body away from you completely in your peripheral.

—

it’s completely silent from there on out. whatever happened in the car was the closest thing you’ve ever gotten to a fight with her, and you don’t know how to deal with it. when you reach your place, you unlock the door and let haerin go first, not exchanging a single word.

haerin immediately grabs her bag from where she left it near your desk. she moves with purpose, like she’s trying to get out of here as soon as possible, but you can’t just let her leave like that. not when she’s in your place.

“haerin,” you call, and when she doesn’t turn, you step closer. “are you seriously jealous over people flirting with me?”

she huffs, finally looking at you. “it’s ridiculous, right?”

“yeah,” you say as you cross your arms. “you’re the most gorgeous, amazing person i know. they should’ve been flirting with you instead, i don’t know why they were doing it with me.”

haerin’s eyes widen slightly, her lips parting like she wasn’t expecting that. your assumption starts to make sense in her head: you think that she’s jealous because people were flirting with you and not her. you’re completely off, and before she can interrupt, you start again.

“i saw some people checking you out too. i overheard people saying that you’re pretty from my friends while you went to the bathroom and—” you step closer. “why would you ever be jealous over people flirting with me?”

she lets go of her bag now, jaw clenching before she finally exhales. “it’s not because they were flirting with you,” she mutters. “or because i want to be flirted with.” she shakes her head, eyes meeting yours with something raw in them. “it’s because they can say all of this while i can’t.”

your breath catches.

haerin licks her lips, voice quieter now. “i like you.” she swallows, avoiding eye contact. “i’ve been stressing about it for the past month or two. and tonight just… seeing how easily people say those things to you, knowing i’ve been thinking you’re so pretty and sweet before they even—” she exhales sharply. “i hate when people flirt with you because i like you.”

your heart stutters in your chest. the weight of her words turns a gear in your brain. everything feels real, and you suddenly feel breathless. kang haerin likes you.

“haerin,” you murmur. “i— you do?”

“i’m sorry.”

“no, no.” you stop her, pinching the bridge of your nose. “i just— everytime i’d see people looking at you like… i don’t know, like they wanted you or something, i’d get this weird jealousy as well.”

“why?” haerin questions.

“haerin, i like you too.” you admit through an exasperated chuckle. “i go out of my way to spend time with you and everything because i like you. sometimes we’re laying in my bed or getting food together and i think, i just, i always wished it were something more than platonic.”

her breath catches, taken aback by the sudden confession. her eyes search yours for any sign that you’re messing with her, but all she finds is sincerity.

“you do?” she asks, barely above a whisper.

“haerin, i like you so much.”

and then she exhales, relief and something softer washing over her features. she steps over to hug you, burying her face in your neck.

“i’m— i’m sorry for being so moody.”

“it’s okay.” you laugh, hugging her tightly. “i would’ve been the same if someone were flirting with you.”

you two pull away then, hands still on each other and faces now inches apart. everything around you stops, but the beating in your heart speeds up when you’re met with her features.

on impulse, you sneak a quick kiss, pulling away immediately and feeling your cheeks burn.

haerin’s eyes widen before she giggles, moving her hands to cup your cheeks properly and kissing you sweetly. the taste of strawberry ice cream lingers on her lips, making the moment sweeter. she parts, her lips ghosting yours, and you smile.

“are we moving too fast?” you ask.

“i– i don’t know. i’ve never… i—” you cut haerin off with another kiss, wrapping your arms around her neck.

“i think this is fine. i wanted to um… do this before we left my place but…”

haerin laughs, smiling at you like you’re the only thing that matters. “well now you can… do it as much as you’d like. i like you a lot y/n.”

“i like you a lot too, haerin.”

#newjeans x reader #kpop x reader #haerin x reader #kang haerin x reader #kang haerin

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readsaboutreid · 1 year ago

Text

Everything To Me | S.R.

summary: Spencer is in love with his coworker and best friend and goes all out to celebrate her birthday on the day after when she catches her boyfriend in bed with another woman when they arrive home from a case.

this is 100% season 1 spencer

warning: cheating, making out, angst/comfort

“(Y/N)! Wait up!” Spencer stumbled, tripping over his feet as he hurried to catch the elevator with his friend. He covered the distance from his desk to the elevator doors in record time as (Y/N) hit the button to presumably hold open the doors for him. He slid in and stood next to her while panting lightly. He really needed to do some cardio, he noted to himself.

“Wow, with speed like that I should start calling you Barry Allen,” she giggled, making Spencer's heart flutter in the best and most terrifying way and drawing a laugh out of his throat (even though he didn’t really get the reference). He couldn't help it when all he could think about was how much he wanted to hear that laugh every day for the rest of his life.

“Sorry,” he flashed a sheepish smile at her and ducked his head a little bit as he felt his cheeks heat up slightly.

“Hey, uh, I was wondering if you had any, uh, any plans for the evening? There’s a Star Trek: The Next Generation marathon and I know that’s your favorite Star Trek series so I was thinking maybe we could hang out and maybe get some takeout?"

"That sounds like it would be a hell of a time," she began. Spencer could already feel the incoming, "but I promised Warren I'd spend the evening with him since it's my birthday and all." Spencer had to keep himself from making a face at the mention of her asshole of a boyfriend, not wanting to upset her, and so instead he opted to skip over that and react to the next part of her statement.

"Wait it's your birthday? Why didn't you say anything? We all would have done something to celebrate before going home today," Spencer started kicking himself internally. How could he not have known today was her birthday? The two of them had become attached at the hip pretty much since she started at the BAU 4 months ago. She had even celebrated his own birthday with him and the rest of the team.

“Hey, it’s okay! You don’t need to feel bad or anything, I tend to just treat my birthday like it’s any other day so I often just don't even tell anyone when it is,” she shot him a sweet smile in an attempt to assure him that it was okay but it didn't make him feel any less guilty.

Spencer's heart sank a bit at the thought of not being able to celebrate (Y/N)'s birthday with her, but he knew Warren was important to her regardless of how much Spencer and the team disliked him. He mustered a smile and nodded, "No worries, spending time with Warren sounds great. Happy birthday, (Y/N). I hope your day is as wonderful as you are."

(Y/N) blushed at the compliment, waving it off modestly. The elevator dinged softly, indicating they had reached the ground floor. As the doors slid open, they stepped out into the bustling lobby of the FBI building. Spencer glanced at his watch and realized it was already late in the evening.

"Well, I should let you get going. Have a fantastic birthday night with Warren," Spencer said, trying to hide his disappointment behind a cheerful facade.

"Thank you, Spencer. I really appreciate it. We should definitely catch that Star Trek marathon another time," she replied with a warm smile before turning to head towards the exit.

Later in the evening, Spencer found himself sitting on his worn-out couch, a container of lukewarm Chinese takeout resting in his lap as he absentmindedly watched reruns of Star Trek. His mind kept wandering back to the encounter in the elevator with (Y/N) earlier that day. The missed opportunity to spend her birthday with her weighed heavily on his heart.

Just as Captain Picard was about to make a diplomatic decision that could change the course of an entire star system, Spencer's phone rang, jolting him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen to see (Y/N)'s name flashing brightly.

With a mixture of confusion and worry, he answered the call. "Hey, (Y/N), is everything okay?" His heart clenched at the sound of her quiet sobs on the other end of the line.

"Spencer," her voice cracked, "can you... can you come pick me up?"

Without another word, Spencer sprang into action. "Of course, (Y/N). I'll be right there. Where are you?" Spencer's voice was filled with concern as he quickly grabbed his keys and rushed out the door, leaving behind the half-eaten container of Chinese takeout and the flickering TV screen showing Star Trek.

As he drove through the quiet streets towards (Y/N)'s location, thoughts raced through Spencer's mind. Why was she crying? What had happened? He couldn't bear the thought of her in distress, especially on her birthday.

Finally reaching the spot where she said she would be, Spencer spotted (Y/N) sitting on a bench outside of a sketchy looking apartment complex, her head buried in her hands. He parked the car and hurried over to her, his heart breaking at the sight of her tear-streaked face.

"(Y/N), what's wrong?" Spencer knelt down beside her, gently placing a hand on her back. She looked up at him with red, puffy eyes, and he felt a crack in his chest

as her trembling voice filled the cool night air.

"I... I waited for Warren at my apartment, but he never showed up or called. I got worried and went to his place," she paused, taking a shuddering breath before continuing, "I let myself in with my key, and... and I found him in bed with another woman."

Shock rippled through Spencer as he struggled to process her words. The image of (Y/N) standing in the doorway of Warren's apartment, witnessing such a betrayal, tore at his heart. Anger flared within him, directed not only at Warren but at the unfairness of it all. How could someone as kind and genuine as (Y/N) be treated so callously?

Without hesitation, Spencer pulled (Y/N) into a tight embrace, offering her solace in the warmth of his arms. He felt her tears soak into his shirt as she clung to him, seeking comfort amidst the storm of emotions raging within her.

As she sobbed into his chest he felt tears pricking his own eyes. He gently cupped her head and started stroking her hair in an attempt to soothe her before saying, “let’s get you into the car, okay?”

As Spencer led (Y/N) to his car, he couldn't shake the image of her devastated face from his mind. The weight of her heartbreak hung heavy in the air, suffocating him with a sense of helplessness. He opened the car door for her, watching as she settled into the passenger seat with a heavy sigh.

"I'm so sorry, (Y/N)," Spencer murmured softly as he started the engine, casting a sympathetic glance her way. "You deserve so much better than this."

(Y/N) let out a bitter laugh, devoid of any humor. "I should have known better than to get my hopes up. This is why I never celebrate my birthday. It’s more trouble than it’s worth," she confessed, her voice laced with resignation and nothing more than a whisper by the very end. Spencer's heart clenched at her words. He wanted nothing more than to ease her pain, to show her that she deserved all the love and happiness in the world.

"You deserve to be celebrated, (Y/N)," Spencer said with conviction, his eyes meeting hers in the dim light of the car. "No one has the right to make you feel otherwise. You are kind, beautiful, and deserving of all the love and joy that life has to offer."

Spencer's words echoed in (Y/N)'s mind as they drove through the quiet streets of the city, the soft glow of streetlights casting a serene ambiance over the car. The heaviness of her heart began to lift ever so slightly, buoyed by the sincerity in Spencer's eyes and the comfort of his presence beside her.

As they reached a stoplight, Spencer turned to (Y/N) with a tentative smile. "How about we make a detour?" he suggested gently. "There's this little ice cream shop a few blocks away. Maybe some ice cream might help lift your spirits."

(Y/N) managed a small smile in return, touched by Spencer's thoughtfulness. The simple gesture felt like a ray of sunshine breaking through the storm clouds that had gathered around her heart. "That sounds nice," she replied softly, her voice still tinged with sadness but with a glimmer of gratitude shining through.

They parked near the ice cream shop, its cheerful neon sign beckoning them inside. The bell above the door jingled as they stepped in, greeted by the sweet scent of freshly made waffle cones and a colorful display of ice cream flavors. Spencer guided (Y/N) to a cozy booth by the window, where they could watch the world pass by as they indulged in their frozen treats.

As they savored their ice cream, the heaviness in (Y/N)'s heart began to thaw, melting away with each spoonful of creamy sweetness. Spencer listened attentively as she shared snippets of her favorite childhood memories, her voice soft and wistful against the backdrop of cheerful chatter from other customers.

Once they had finished their ice cream, Spencer suggested another detour. "There's this little vintage store down the street that always has some classic movies on sale. How about we pick up one of your favorites and head back to my place to watch it?”

(Y/N) hesitated before saying, “I don’t know about picking up anything from a store but is that Star Trek marathon still on?” The slight amount of hope in her voice made Spencer’s heart flutter with a mix of relief and warmth. He had been longing for a chance to make her smile, to see a glimmer of happiness light up her eyes once more.

Nodding enthusiastically, he replied, "Absolutely! We can swing by the store another time. For now, let's head straight to my place for that Star Trek marathon." The anticipation in (Y/N)'s eyes was palpable as they made their way to Spencer's cozy apartment. The familiar scent of old books and fresh laundry greeted them as they stepped inside, the soft glow of string lights casting a warm ambiance over the living room.

Spencer turned the TV back on, dimming the lights to create a cozy home-theater atmosphere. They settled on the couch, surrounded by plush pillows and soft blankets, basking in the nostalgic thrill of the sci-fi classic unfolding on the screen.

As the episode played on, Spencer got up and reheated the Chinese food from earlier and putting it on plates for each of them. He grabbed himself a fork and got one of the sets of chopsticks from the restaurant for (Y/N). As he made his way back to the living room he saw (Y/N) happily rocking back and forth as she watched Data and Geordi share another one of their intriguing engineering discussions. Spencer couldn't help but smile at the sight, a flicker of contentment lighting up his own heart as he handed (Y/N) the plate with her food and settled back onto the couch beside her.

Between bites of General Tso's chicken and sips of hot tea, Spencer couldn't help but feel a sense of peace settle over him. The soft glow of the TV cast shadows across the room, creating a cocoon of warmth and familiarity around them. The gentle hum of the spaceship's engines on screen seemed to lull them both into a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional chuckle or comment about the characters.

After a few episodes, Spencer found himself stealing glances at (Y/N) out of the corner of his eye, admiring the soft curve of her profile as she watched intently. He could see a spark of joy in her eyes, a fleeting moment of escape from the weight of unspoken emotions that lingered between them. Sensing a rare moment of vulnerability, Spencer cleared his throat softly before turning to (Y/N) with a gentle smile.

"Hey, (Y/N)," he began, his voice soft and tentative. "I was wondering... If you could have done anything for your birthday today, what would it have been?"

(Y/N) paused, her gaze shifting from the screen to Spencer. Her expression softened as she considered the question, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. "You know, I've always wanted to visit the Smithsonian," she murmured, her eyes distant with longing. "And maybe the Botanic Gardens too... It's on my list of things to do someday."

Spencer nodded, committing her words to memory as he filed away the simple desires she shared. He made a mental note to himself, silently vowing to make those dreams a reality for her someday.

As they finished the last episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation, Spencer noticed the clock on the wall ticking closer to midnight. With a sense of reluctance, he turned to (Y/N) and said, "I hate to cut this short, but it's getting late. I should call a cab for you."

(Y/N) looked up at him, a mixture of disappointment and understanding in her eyes. She nodded quietly, gathering her things and slipping on her coat. As Spencer dialed for a cab, he couldn't shake off the feeling of missed opportunities hanging heavy in the air.

The subdued sound of the approaching cab echoed through the quiet street outside. Spencer opened the door for (Y/N), his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. "I'll be picking you up at 11 am tomorrow so be dressed and ready," he said, surprising both himself and (Y/N) with his sudden declaration.

Confusion flashed across her face as she stammered, "But... why? Where are we going?"

"Just make sure you’re ready,” he smiled, ideas blossoming in his mind as he decided he was going to show her what her birthday meant to him. He closed the cab door behind her and waved as the car drove off before turning on his heel and heading back inside, preparing to show his best friend the time of her life tomorrow.

Spencer woke up at 8 am the next morning to the soft rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains, illuminating his room in a golden hue. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he stretched his arms above his head and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Today was going to be special; he was determined to make it a day that (Y/N) would never forget.

Remembering her mention once that morning glories were her favorite flower, Spencer decided to start by weaving a delicate flower crown out of the vibrant blooms he had picked from his backyard garden. As he carefully intertwined the petals and vines into a crown fit for a queen, he couldn't help but smile at the thought of seeing (Y/N) wear it.

After finishing the flower crown, Spencer's thoughts drifted to a memory she had shared with him long ago. Before her parents had passed away, they used to build her a pillow fort and hang fairy lights in it on special occasions. Determined to recreate that sense of childhood magic for her, Spencer set about constructing a fort in his living room. He gathered every pillow and blanket he could find, stacking them strategically to form the walls of the fort. With a bit of effort and creativity, he managed to fashion an elaborate yet cozy hideaway filled with soft cushions and twinkling fairy lights. His PhD in Engineering was finally seeing some use.

As he stepped back to admire his handiwork, Spencer's heart swelled with a mix of emotions. The soft glow of the lights cast a warm, inviting aura over the fort, creating an atmosphere of whimsy and nostalgia. He could almost picture the look of wonder on (Y/N)'s face when she saw it, and the thought filled him with a sense of anticipation.

With the fort completed, Spencer glanced at the clock and realized it was almost time to pick up (Y/N). Quickly changing into a clean shirt and vest and grabbing the flower crown he had made earlier, he made his way out the door, excitement bubbling in his chest.

As he drove to (Y/N)'s apartment, Spencer's mind was a whirlwind of nerves and anticipation. He parked the car a few blocks away, wanting to give himself a moment to compose himself before their day together began. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out onto the sidewalk and started the short walk to her building.

The street was alive with the sounds of the city waking up - the distant hum of traffic, the chatter of early risers going about their day. But in Spencer's mind, all he could focus on was the image of (Y/N) in his mind, wearing the flower crown he had made for her.

Finally reaching her apartment building, he climbed the steps to her floor, his heart pounding in his chest. Standing in front of her door, he took one last deep breath before lifting his hand to knock.

The sound echoed through the hallway, reverberating in Spencer's ears as he waited with bated breath. After what felt like an eternity, he heard footsteps approaching from inside the apartment. The soft shuffling of footsteps grew louder, and Spencer's pulse quickened in anticipation. Suddenly, the gentle click of the door being unlocked filled the air, and it slowly swung open to reveal (Y/N) standing before him.

She looked breathtaking. (Y/N) was wearing a simple yet elegant dress with cute buttons lining the front and a delicate peter pan collar. Her chin length bob was slightly curved under her chin and her bangs fell across her forehead in such a perfect way and Spencer looked away quickly, his cheeks burning when he realized he was staring. For a moment, they stood there in silence, the air thick with unspoken words and emotions.

Then, Spencer slowly brought forward the flower crown he had hidden behind his back, holding it out towards (Y/N) with a shaky hand. “Happy birthday," he finally whispered, his voice barely above a breath as he nervously offered her the crown. The soft petals of the flowers brushed against her fingertips, and (Y/N)'s eyes widened in surprise and delight as she took the flower crown from Spencer's hand. A small gasp escaped her lips as she held the delicate creation, a mix of awe and gratitude shining in her eyes as she looked up at him.

"Spencer, it's beautiful," she murmured as she gently placed it atop her head, her voice soft with emotion. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a golden glow that illuminated her features, making her look even more ethereal. In that moment, caught in the gentle morning light, Spencer felt a swell of affection for her that threatened to overwhelm him.

After a beat of silence filled with unspoken words hanging in the air between them, Spencer cleared his throat and offered a hesitant smile. "Are you ready to go?" he asked, his heart beating a little faster at the prospect of spending the day with her.

(Y/N) returned his smile with a nod, her eyes sparkling with anticipation as she looped her arm through his, the flower crown perched delicately on her head. They strolled down the bustling street, the city waking up around them with a cacophony of sounds and scents. Spencer couldn't help but steal glances at (Y/N), her presence beside him filling him with a warmth he hadn't felt before.

Their first stop was a cozy bookshop just across the street from her apartment building. The bell above the door chimed softly as they entered, and the scent of aged paper and ink enveloped them in a comforting embrace. Rows upon rows of books lined the shelves, each one whispering promises of new worlds and adventures.

"Pick out as many as you'd like," Spencer said, gesturing to the endless array of titles surrounding them. (Y/N)'s eyes widened in delight, a soft gasp escaping her lips as she wandered through the aisles, her fingers trailing over spines in search of stories. He watched as she made her way through the shelves until she reached the SciFi/Fantasy and Horror section and begin removing books from the shelves, reading the backs and either adding them to the stack in her arms or placing them back on the shelves.

Spencer couldn't help but admire the way (Y/N) immersed herself in the world of books, her eyes alight with a passion that made her even more enchanting. She moved with purpose, carefully selecting each book as if it held a piece of her soul within its pages. His heart swelled with fondness for her, her love for literature reflecting a depth to her character that he found endlessly captivating.

As (Y/N) returned back to him, her arms filled with a stack of books that seemed to reach towards the sky, she gave him a sheepish smile. "I might have gotten a bit carried away," she admitted, a hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “Could you help me narrow things down a little bit?”

Spencer chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners in amusement. "No need to apologize. Let's see what treasures you've found," he said, reaching out to take a few books from her arms. Together, they perused the titles she had chosen, discussing the plots and themes. After they had no luck in narrowing down the pile, Spencer scooped them all up into his arms in a stack and began making his way to the checkout stand.

"Why bother narrowing it down?" Spencer's voice was filled with a playful lilt as he carried the stack of books towards the checkout counter, (Y/N) trailing behind him with a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Impressive selection," the bookstore clerk commented as he rung up the stack of books, each title a window into (Y/N)'s interests and desires. (Y/N) beamed at the compliment, her eyes shining with confusion and gratitude as Spencer pulled out his wallet and paid before she could even reach for her own from her bag.

As they left the bookshop, the sun had climbed higher in the sky, casting a warm glow over the crowded streets. The sounds of the city swirled around them—honking cars, lively chatter, and the distant rumble of a passing train. Spencer glanced over at (Y/N) walking beside him, her face illuminated by a soft radiance.

(Y/N) quickly unlocked the door and placed the bags of books onto her dining room table before they walked back outside. Spencer patiently waited as she locked her door before holding his arm out again for her to grab on to as he lead her to his car.

As they arrived at the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum, Spencer's steps were light with anticipation. The air was alive with the promise of discovery, and he couldn't wait to share this world of wonders with (Y/N). The museum loomed before them like a giant treasure trove, its grand architecture a testament to human ingenuity and ambition.

Stepping inside, they were greeted by a vast hall filled with aircraft suspended from the ceiling like metallic birds frozen in flight. (Y/N)'s eyes widened in awe, her gaze flitting from one exhibit to another as Spencer led her through the maze of history and innovation.

"This is the Wright Flyer," Spencer said, pointing towards the iconic biplane that started it all. "It's incredible to think that this simple machine paved the way for all modern aviation."

As they moved deeper into the museum, Spencer's voice became a gentle murmur of knowledge and passion. He regaled (Y/N) with stories of astronauts who dared to venture beyond Earth's atmosphere and the technological advancements that made it all possible. (Y/N) listened with rapt attention, her eyes shimmering with wonder and admiration for both the exhibits and the man beside her.

Each artifact held a story, a piece of history waiting to be unraveled. Spencer's explanations brought life to the static displays, turning them into vibrant tales of human courage and scientific progress. He pointed out the intricate details of each spacecraft, each spacesuit, each photograph, as if they were sacred relics in a grand temple of human achievement.

As they entered the lunar module exhibit, (Y/N) gasped in awe at the sight of the actual spacecraft that had touched the surface of the moon as well as a piece of rock from the moon that was free for visitors to touch. She reached out a hand as if to touch it, but stopped herself, as if afraid to disturb the fragile connection between past and present.

Spencer noticed her hesitation and smiled softly. "It's okay, you can touch it," he encouraged. "Feel the history in your fingers."

(Y/N) tentatively reached out and brushed her fingertips against the cool, pitted surface of the moon rock. A jolt of electricity seemed to pass through her as she made contact, connecting her to a distant world that had once seemed so unreachable. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, overwhelmed by the weight of history and the magnitude of human achievement.

Spencer watched her with a mix of admiration and fondness, his heart swelling with a bittersweet ache at the sight of her emotional response. He longed to reach out and comfort her, to share in this moment of vulnerability and connection, but he held back, knowing that some experiences were meant to be felt in solitude.

As they moved on to the space shuttle exhibit, Spencer's voice took on a reverent tone as he explained the intricacies of space travel and the courage of those who dared to venture into the unknown. (Y/N) listened intently, hanging onto his every word as if they were precious treasures. The stories of the astronauts and their daring adventures resonated with her in a way she couldn't quite explain. It was as if each tale of exploration and discovery tugged at something deep within her, awakening a yearning for the stars that had long been dormant.

After exploring the wonders of the cosmos in the Air and Space Museum, Spencer suggested they visit the Museum of Natural History next. (Y/N) eagerly agreed, her curiosity piqued by the promise of delving into the mysteries of the natural world.

The moment they stepped into the museum, a wave of earthy scents enveloped them—the musty aroma of ancient fossils, the fresh green fragrance of preserved plants, and the tangy scent of minerals. (Y/N) took a deep breath, savoring the rich tapestry of odors that surrounded her as they ventured deeper into the exhibits.

Spencer guided her through halls filled with towering skeletons of dinosaurs, exotic taxidermy specimens, and sparkling gemstones that seemed to whisper tales of ancient worlds and forgotten creatures. His voice, now a gentle hum of fascination, wove intricate stories of the natural wonders before them, each exhibit a chapter in the never-ending book of Earth's history.

With every step, (Y/N) felt herself being transported back in time, her senses overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and scents of a world long gone yet preserved within the walls of the museum. She marveled at the sheer diversity of life that had once inhabited the planet, from the majestic bones of a towering T-Rex to the delicate wings of a butterfly frozen in time.

As they reached the Butterfly Pavilion, (Y/N)'s eyes lit up with childlike excitement. She walked among the lush greenery, her fingers gently trailing over velvety leaves and vibrant petals as she inspected each plant with keen interest. Spencer watched her with a soft smile, his admiration for her knowledge and passion shining in his eyes.

"It’s like stepping into a living kaleidoscope," (Y/N) breathed, her voice hushed with wonder. "Each butterfly and moth, every plant here tells a story of adaptation and survival. Look at this one," she gestured to a plump monarch butterfly sipping nectar from a bright orange bloom, "did you know they migrate for thousands of miles to escape the cold?"

Spencer was happy to listen intently to her spout knowledge that he already held, captivated by the gleam in her eyes and the animated gestures that accompanied each explanation. He found himself falling even more deeply under her spell as she shared her wealth of knowledge, her voice growing more animated with each tidbit of information.

As they wandered through the pavilion, (Y/N) pointed out the intricate patterns on the butterflies' wings, explaining their purpose and significance with a mix of scientific precision and unbridled enthusiasm. Spencer couldn't help but be swept up in her passion, feeling a warmth bloom in his chest at the sight of her so fully immersed in her element. Her rarely used PhDs in Botany and Microbiology shone brightly through her words and actions as she explained the importance of every living thing within the enclosure down to the network of fungal mycelium in the dirt, making Spencer see her in a whole new light. The way she spoke about each species of butterfly or moth, each plant or fungus they saw, showcased not only her expertise but also her deep love and respect for the natural world.

Spencer found himself hanging onto her every word, just as she had done with his tales of space exploration earlier. He admired the way her eyes sparkled with excitement, the way her hands gestured animatedly as if conducting a symphony of knowledge and wonder.

As they reached a secluded corner of the pavilion, (Y/N) knelt down beside a cluster of milkweed plants, her voice soft and reverent as she explained their importance to the monarch butterflies. Spencer watched her intently, a sense of peace settling over him as he observed her in her element. He then checked his watch, his eyes widening in realization as he saw the time. They were going to be late for the dinner reservation he had managed to secure at the new Italian restaurant (Y/N) had been longing to try for months. With a gentle touch on her shoulder, Spencer interrupted her explanation about the symbiotic relationship between the milkweed plants and monarch butterflies.

"(Y/N), as much as I hate to interrupt your fascinating lesson, we should start heading out. We have a dinner reservation," Spencer said apologetically, a hint of regret in his tone.

Startled by the mention of dinner, (Y/N) straightened up, her eyes widening in surprise before a sheepish smile crossed her face. "Oh gosh, I completely lost track of time! I'm so sorry, Spencer. Let's go."

They hurried through the Butterfly Pavilion, their steps quickening as they made their way to the exit. Spencer opened the passenger door for her as they approached his car, and they soon found themselves seated inside as Spencer started the engine. The warmth of the setting sun bathed the interior in a golden glow, casting long shadows across (Y/N)'s face as she fastened her seatbelt. She glanced over at Spencer, her eyes shining with a mix of excitement and anticipation for the evening ahead.

The drive to the Italian restaurant was filled with comfortable silence, the only sound the soft hum of the radio playing a mellow jazz tune in the background. Spencer stole glances at (Y/N) from time to time, admiring how the fading light accentuated her features, casting her in a soft, ethereal glow.

Arriving at the restaurant, they were greeted by the tantalizing aroma of garlic and tomato sauce wafting through the air. The cozy ambiance of the place enveloped them as they were led to their table, nestled in a corner with a flickering candle casting dancing shadows on their faces.

As they perused the menu, (Y/N)'s eyes widened in delight as she scanned the offerings, her excitement palpable. Spencer couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm, feeling a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the romantic candlelight surrounding them. This moment, this simple act of sharing a meal with her, felt like a glimpse into the life he had always wanted but never dared to reach for.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with laughter and shared stories. (Y/N)'s eyes sparkled with joy as she recounted a hilarious mishap at work, and Spencer found himself hanging onto her every word once again. It was moments like these that made him forget about his own worries and fears, immersing himself in the present moment.

As the waiter brought out their food, the table was soon filled with plates of steaming pasta and fragrant sauces. The first bite sent a burst of flavors dancing on (Y/N)'s tongue, and she couldn't help but close her eyes in bliss. Spencer watched her savor each mouthful, her expression a symphony of delight and contentment. The flickering candlelight played on her face, accentuating the curve of her smile and the sparkle in her eyes.

Spencer's gaze lingered on her, a sense of longing tugging at his heart. He wanted to freeze this moment in time, to etch it into his memory forever. The warmth of the restaurant, the soft glow of the candle, the sound of (Y/N)'s laughter – all of it wove together into a tapestry of perfect happiness.

But beneath the surface of their shared joy, Spencer felt a pang of bittersweet realization. This was just a moment, a fleeting interlude in their lives. Tomorrow, they would return to their separate paths, their separate dreams.

As (Y/N) reached for her glass of wine, her hand brushed against his, sending a jolt of electricity through him. Their eyes met, and in that brief moment of connection, Spencer felt a surge of courage wash over him. As they finished their meals, the waiter returned to their table with a flourish, presenting a tray of decadent desserts that Spencer had secretly ordered while (Y/N) was in the bathroom. A smile played on his lips as he watched her eyes widen in surprise and delight at the unexpected treat.

"Spencer, you didn't have to do this," she murmured, her voice soft with gratitude.

"It's my pleasure," he replied, his tone gentle yet tinged with a hint of nervousness. "Would you like to enjoy it here or take it to go and eat it while watching something?"

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering between the cozy restaurant ambiance and the promise of a quiet moment elsewhere. After a brief pause, she decided, "Let's take it to go."

Spencer nodded in agreement and politely requested the bill. As he settled the payment, a sense of resolve settled in him, guiding his actions as they left the restaurant. The cool night air caressed their skin as they walked towards Spencer's car parked just around the corner. He opened the passenger door for her, a gesture that was both chivalrous and intimate.

As they drove through the city streets, (Y/N) couldn't shake off the feeling of curiosity that gnawed at her mind. Why were they headed to Spencer's apartment instead of hers, as she had anticipated? Her thoughts raced, trying to find an explanation for this unexpected turn of events.

Upon arriving at his apartment building, Spencer handed her the to-go boxes with their desserts before unlocking the door. A sense of bewilderment washed over (Y/N) as she followed him inside. Before she could voice her confusion, Spencer moved behind her and gently covered her eyes with his hands, guiding her further into his apartment.

The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air as (Y/N) let herself be led by Spencer through the dimly lit hallway. Her heart raced with a mix of anticipation and curiosity, her trust in him unwavering as he guided her with careful steps. The soft shuffle of their feet echoed in the corridor, creating a rhythm that seemed to match the beat of her own pulse.

After what felt like an eternity of darkness behind her closed eyelids, Spencer's hands finally left (Y/N)'s eyes, revealing a mesmerizing sight before her. As she blinked away the temporary blindness, a gasp escaped her lips at the magical scene that unfolded in front of her.

The room was transformed into a whimsical wonderland – an elaborate pillow fort stretched across the space, twinkling with fairy lights that cast a warm, inviting glow. Soft blankets cascaded down like waterfalls, creating nooks and crannies that held the promise of cozy comfort. The air was scented with old books, eucalyptus, and lavender, adding to the ethereal atmosphere that surrounded them.

Spencer watched (Y/N) with bated breath as she took in the sight before her. The flickering lights danced across her face, illuminating the awe and wonder reflected in her eyes. It was a moment frozen in time, suspended between reality and a dream.

"Happy birthday, (Y/N)," Spencer's voice was barely a whisper, filled with a vulnerability that he had never dared to show before.

Tears welled up in (Y/N)'s eyes, moved by the effort and thoughtfulness he had put into creating this enchanting surprise. She turned to face him, her heart overflowing with emotions she struggled to put into words.

"Spencer, this is... it's perfect," she finally managed to say, her voice trembling with emotion. She reached out to grasp his hand, holding onto it as though afraid this magical moment would slip away if she let go.

As they settled into the cocoon of blankets and pillows, Spencer grabbed his laptop from his desk and popped a DVD into the disc player. The opening to a movie he had never seen but had heard her talk about multiple times, Clueless, played in the background but all he could do was look at her. Under the twinkling of the fairy lights he could almost swear she had to be a fairy herself. That’s the only thing he could think of that would explain her beauty.

As the movie played on (Y/N) explained to Spencer that it was actually an adaptation of her favorite novel by Jane Austen, Emma, which did little to make him feel the main character was more likeable but watching her happily chatter about the movie filled him with a sense of comfort and affection. This is how it should always be, he thought to himself, wrapping his arms around her as she settled against his chest.

They sat and cuddled in a comfortable silence until it was broken by her voice, soft and timid as she said, “hey Spence?”

“Hm?” He hummed into her hair, his eyes closed.

“Why did you do all of this?” She queried, sounding like she was on the verge of tears, which immediately pulled Spencer from his half asleep haze.

Spencer thought about his next words carefully, taking so long that (Y/N) was about to ask if he had fallen asleep before he finally responded. “After seeing you so heartbroken last night and seeing how Warren just tossed you aside like you didn’t matter I just felt like I should show you how much it means to me that you exist." His voice was gentle, barely a whisper as he confessed the depth of his feelings for her.

(Y/N) felt her breath catch in her throat at his words. The vulnerability in his voice touched her heart in a way she had never experienced before. She turned to look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and care reflected back at her.

Tears glistened in her eyes as she reflexively leaned into his hand as he reached to cup her cheek, caressing it with a tenderness that spoke volumes. "Spencer," she murmured, her voice filled with emotion, "you didn’t have to—I’m not worth all this—I-I don’t—"

He placed a finger on her lips, silencing her words. "That’s what I’ve spent all day trying to show you, (Y/N). You are worth it. You are worth everything to me," he whispered, his gaze unwavering.

In that moment, (Y/N) felt a rush of emotions swell within her, a mix of disbelief and overwhelming gratitude. Her heart pounded in her chest as she gazed into Spencer's eyes, seeing a depth of love and sincerity that she had never expected to find. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, wrapping around them like a warm embrace.

As they sat there, suspended in time, (Y/N) felt a gentle tug at her heart urging her to lean forward. She hesitated for a moment, uncertainty clouding her mind as she debated the implications of such a gesture. Could she allow herself to be vulnerable again after everything she had been through? Was it worth risking her heart for the possibility of something more?

But before she could overthink it any further, Spencer's gaze softened even more as he leaned in towards her. In the briefest moment of hesitation, his lips hovered centimeters away from hers, silently asking for permission. And just as he began to pull back, (Y/N) plunged forward, closing the distance between them as she pressed her lips against Spencer's. It was a tender, tentative kiss filled with all the unspoken words and emotions that had lingered between them for so long. The world seemed to stand still as they shared this intimate moment, their hearts beating in harmony.

Spencer was momentarily stunned by the sudden turn of events, but as he felt (Y/N)'s warmth against his lips, all doubts and insecurities melted away. When they finally pulled away, they were both met with flushed cheeks and wide eyes. There was a charged energy in the air, a newfound connection that sparked between them like a flame igniting in the darkness.

"(Y/N)," Spencer whispered, his voice barely above a breath as he searched her eyes for confirmation.

(Y/N) simply smiled, a radiant expression that lit up her face with joy and relief. “I love you, Spencer,” falls from her lips before she crashes them back against his.

#criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #light angst #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds fanfic

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meowrimo · 1 year ago

Text

self indulgent fluff because this man makes me yearn hehe divider by @/cafekitsune ! — WC : 748

“noooo, tetsu.” you clutch onto him tighter, head still resting on his chest. you can hear the rumble of his laugh as he eases back down into his spot right next to you. “don’t go.”

“i have to, sweetheart.” kuroo rubs your back tenderly, pressing a chaste kiss on the top of your head. it was a weeknight and both of you had to be up early for work in the morning.

“you don’t want to stay?” a childish question that you can’t help but ask, a pout lining your lips. you must look absolutely pitiful judging by the look he’s giving you.

“you know i want to.” his arms tighten around you in a small apology. you can sense the dreaded ‘but’ ready to spill from the tip of his tongue so you beat him to the punch.

“so stay.” you grin up at him, chin resting on his chest. the close proximity has his eyes softening around the edges, mouth opening and closing as he tries to explain his reasoning for going. but all logic gets thrown at the window when he catches the hopeful look you cast at him.

“okay.” kuroo gives in. how could he not? saying no to you was an impossible task. “i’ll just get up earlier so i can go home and change.”

“yay! thank you tetsu.” you jolt up, planting kisses all over his face. he can’t help but laugh at your sudden burst of energy, relishing in all the love you pour onto him.

“of course.” kuroo gives you a kiss on the lips, pulling back just so he could see your smile. “im the best boyfriend ever after all.”

“yeah, yeah.” you giggle.

the two of you sit in a comfortable silence for a moment, your mind beginning to wander a little as an idea pops in your head. it’s almost like he can see the gears turning, a little lightbulb popping up and demanding attention.

“maybe…” you start but trail off, losing whatever nerve you had.

“maybe?” kuroo gently caresses your cheek, encouraging you to continue.

“maybe you could keep some work clothes here? you know…” you trail off again. “you know so you don’t have to rush home to change in the future.”

“and show up to work together?” he grins, sitting up, back resting against the headboard as he pulls you into his lap. “my my, what a scandal. what will the people say?”

“tetsu, i’m pretty sure the whole office knows we’re dating.” you roll your eyes.

kuroo’s eyebrows dramatically shot up far behind his bangs. he was well versed in whatever drama was circulating around the office, a secret fiend for gossip so you knew damn well he’s heard the rumors too. and yet…

“oh yeah? how do you know?” the pads of kuroo’s fingertips patter down along your back as he watches you carefully — catlike instincts trained onto you.

“because people gossip and we aren’t exactly the most discreet.”

“we are discreet!” kuroo looks mildly offended and if you didn’t know him so well, you think you’d had actually struck a nerve.

“babe, they caught us kissing at the the last work party.” you poke his cheek. “not to mention what some of them have been subjected to at happy hour.”

“you make it sound like we’re going at it 24/7 in the office, jeez.” he pouts, looking off to the side.

“i’m just telling you how it is.” you shrug, a teasing smile gracing your features. “i suppose you just can’t keep your hands off me.”

“why you little…” he tickles your side, causing you to giggle and squirm in his lap. after a moment he shows mercy and relents, nuzzling his nose against your face.

“so yeah, i don’t think it would be a big deal if we started going to work together.” you conclude, your voice just above a whisper now. kuroo pretends to ponder it for a moment before something else shifts in his amber eyes.

“noted.” he smirks, half lidded eyes set on you. “you know, you kinda owe me now for staying the night.”

“how’s that?”

“i’ve got to get up extra early, forgo my run and everything. you know how important cardio is to me.” he leans forward, lips ghosting your own as you suck in a bated breath.

“i guess we’ll have to find a suitable alternative for you then.” you pivot, straddling his lap and running your hands through his messy ink hair.

“oh i have a few ideas.” kuroo smirks, closing the gap between you as his lips touch yours.

#◟˚. ☁️ ⋆ daydreams.#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #kuroo tetsuro fluff #kuroo fluff #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #x reader

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veebeeboo109 · 5 months ago

Text

Cleaning up the Timeline

{You and Xavier train. Rafayel teaches you to paint. And you have and appointment with Zayne.}

Read on ao3.

Tags: Reader/L&DS Men, Romance, Maid AU, Jealous!Xavier, Possessive Behavior, Mild NS!FW

Chapter 7: Checkup

After a day off, a long bubble bath, and an even longer nap, you felt marginally sane again. You would have never pegged Zayne as someone to be as modern as being in an open–? Poly? He didn’t seem to really know what it was, and how weird was that? Zayne’s parents were so traditional, you’d always assume Zayne would be the same.

An adjustment, that’s all it was. And you spent your Sunday adjusting. Monday morning rolled around and you had forgotten about training with Xavier completely– until a soft knock came at 5:30am sharp.

You remembered it the moment you heard it, and scrambled out of bed. Calling out a hasty, “One minute!” As you scrounge for something to wear. Luckily for you, your limited wardrobe made it easy and you were dressed and ready in only a little over one minute.

You weren’t exactly gym-chic, but who cared? Xavier clearly didn’t as he smiled brightly at you when you opened the door, “Ready?”

Your mind conjured a too-vivid fantasy of Xavier and Zayne. The sharp contrast between their light and dark– like watching sweet cream being poured into dark coffee. Your face flushed and you nodded, your voice a hoarse squeak, “ Yup.”

Xavier leads you to the gym and he makes sure the both of you have water before getting started. You weren’t sure what to expect but let him take the lead, letting him play ‘trainer and trainee’ which he seemed to enjoy.

You started off with dynamic stretching and then some cardio. Xavier went to some stationary bikes and so you went too. Side by side, the two of you worked up a sweat for a while, too focused on keeping your heart rates up to really make conversation.

Then it was on to strength training, and Xavier was…friendly. His fingers were warm when he adjusted your form on squats, and his eyes lingered whenever you finished a set.

Xavier was remarkably strong for his physique– all precise lithe muscle without much bulk. Like his sword, a precise honed instrument for one thing only. You tried not to stare, but it was hard when you were supposed to be spotting him.

You were relieved in more ways than one when the workout was over, and from routine alone you prepared yourself for combat drills and sparring next. That’s what the Hunter’s usually did.

Only Xavier seemed to be done, and he saw your look of confusion and answered it with a proud smile, “We can work back up to sparring. How was today? Comfortable? Or too hard?”

“It was fine.” You answer, rolling your shoulders as that familiar ache settled over your body. It’d been too long since you’d pushed yourself, if you’d had to run from that statler yesterday, you’d probably be out of breath before you could get away.

“You held yourself well before,” Xavier said, looking down at the water bottle in his hands instead of at your face, “I forgot to say it. But you did well.”

“Oh, thanks.” You said, a sparkle of pride blooming. It felt nice to be complimented on your skill in battle. You had assumed you’d made a fool of yourself, which is why Xavier had asked to train.

“I need to get to patrol,” He explained, reaching out to place his hand on your shoulder. The thin strap of your workout shirt leaves little protection between your skin and his. His hand was larger than it appeared to be, and it expanded over the majority of your shoulder. His thumb drifted up, pressing into the tender pulse on your neck, and your breathing hitched.

“What are you…” You breathed, but his hands squeezed slightly and your voice evaporated.

“Checking your heart rate.” He answered your unfinished question. “It’s important to reach your target heart rate…”

You laughed and felt it shift his hand on you, “I know. Zayne reminds me of my heart a lot.”

“When do you see him next?” He asked, letting his hands fall, but sliding it down your arm as he did so.

“Wednesday. “ You replied, hoping he didn’t notice the little shiver that his benign gesture caused.

Xavier seemed to think and then nodded, “Good. You can rest tomorrow and we’ll work out again Wednesday morning.”

It felt nice to be included and so you smiled and nodded, “Sounds like a plan. Now, off with you. I’ve got to get started on breakfast before Rafayel drags himself downstairs.”

There was a moment. A tiny almost imperceptible movement that Xavier made towards you, like he might try and hug you goodbye. But he stopped, turned, and left– taking his water bottle and towel with him.

After a quick shower, you start on breakfast. You had bought some premade pastries at the store and heated them up in the oven, and made some quick scrambled eggs. Xavier took a little longer than you to get ready; his hunter uniform is a bit more time-consuming than your sweater and pants.

He sat down like he always did and asked about your day, what you had planned and if you were going to get your firearm soon. You answered with which rooms you were planning on cleaning and that no, you didn’t have plans for that yet.

Zayne arrived, looking at his watch and always moving in a rush. The poor cardiac surgeon never allowed a proper breakfast, which is exactly why you got the pastries. You grabbed some parchment paper and wrapped two of the pastries up: a vanilla, and a raspberry.

“Good morning,” Zayne greeted, setting his coat onto the counter while he moved to read messages on his phone. “Thank you, Y/N for breakfast again but I really have to–”

“I know,” You interrupted him, moving into his line of sight and handing him the warm offering, “Here. You can take it with you. Eat in the car, or in your office. Just make sure you eat.”

Zayne stared at the offered parcel like it was a prize, a sparkle in the gold of his eyes as the sweet smell of the pastries met his nose. He was such a sucker for sweets, and you felt mildly proud of yourself for thinking of it.

“Thank you.” He said, taking the treats and then picking up his coat. He threw it over his arm and moved towards the door. You turned back to the stove, putting your back to him and heard him gently bid Xavier goodbye. The shuffle of movement makes you assume he’d given him another kiss to his temple.

You wondered if you asked nicely if you could have one too. But that was ridiculous. Childish, even. You laughed at yourself at such a pathetic thought, but in the next moment there were fingertips in between your shoulder blades, pulling your attention away from the simmering eggs.

You turned your head, and the fingers at your back moved to the back of your head, pulling you in so Zayne could press a quick, intentional kiss at your hairline. “Thank you, again.” He whispered into your hair, and you could only watch dumbfounded as he turned and left.

When you finally managed to blink, you saw Xavier with his hand resting on his hand, elbow set next to his empty plate and his eyes staring you down with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

“Sorry,” You say quickly, turning back to the eggs and facing away from him. “I can tell him to stop if it makes you uncomfortable.”

You heard the barstool screech against the floor as it was scooted back. A sense of dejavu coming over you as you watch Xavier approach you from the corner of your eye.

“Why would you do that?” Xavier’s voice sounded different now. Lower and darker.

“B-because he’s…because you two….” You cleared your throat and continued to stir the eggs, turning them more into tiny crumbles instead of thick scrambles.

The heat from the stove became even more intense as the air around you turned icy. Xavier placed a hand next to the stove and crowded into your space, nearly pressing his back into yours. Heat leaching into you and your senses shivering like the gaze of a predator had fallen on your soft prey skin.

“The only thing wrong with what just happened…” Xavier’s voice was a hushed rumble, like thunder in the distance, “Was that I didn’t get my share…”

You swallowed hard, and tried to keep still. His breath had ghosted across the back of your neck, he must be so close. His lips were only one accidental movement away from your skin. It took more effort than you thought it would to not move. To stay completely still and not move back into him– into the awaiting expanse of him that seemed to pull at you like fishhooks in your bones.

“Did he not..?” You stuttered, hands having stopped in their movement, “Did he not give you one?”

“No, he did.” Xavier’s hiss was at your ear now, “You said it wasn’t part of your contract…but Zayne has gotten two now, and I’ve gotten none.”

His words knocked something loose in your brain and you set the spatula down and turned. He was close. Close enough you had to crane your neck to meet his eyes, and you found a black void there. It was the angriest you’d ever seen him, “What?”

The arm not braced on the countertop went around you, fingertips grazing against the curve of your spine. His eyes never left you, and his head tilted slightly, “Are you playing favorites, Miss Housekeeper?”

“Don’t–” You squeaked, “I have a name.”

The corners of Xavier’s mouth quirked up, “ Y/N , I’ll ask again. Are you playing favorites?”

Your brain, which was only partially functional at this point, came up with a sharp remark, but what left your lips was, “N-no.”

“Then I should get two, right?” Xavier asked hoarsely, “Or, something equivalent.”

You swallowed again, “Something equivalent?”

“I could give you two.” Xavier ran his fingers up and up and up your back, flattening out just beneath your shoulder blades, “Or you could give me one.”

You recalled the last time Xavier asked you about this, but that had been so different. He’d be almost curious then. Inquisitive instead of interrogatory. He had asked about Zayne’s slip up like someone was passing out candy and he’d been forgotten. This time…this time was an offense. A crime to be punished for, and he was determined to get his due.

“I thought you were with…” Your voice was barely a whisper, and came out like a guilty plea, “I don’t understand.”

“Two?” Xavier continued darkly, “Or one?”

Your mind short circuited, the touch on your back searing into your skin and misfiring in your brain. You’d never been so overcome before, and by such an innocuous thing. He was asking for a goodbye kiss of all things, and you were getting weak in the knees like some medieval virgin that saw too much ankle.

But something about Xavier burned so intensely. A nuclear reactor– both subdued and dangerous, and the scent of him was like some potent drug. You felt a bit lost when he was too close, a bit dreamy like you weren’t really here. Like this wasn’t really you.

“Two.” You heard your voice reply, though you were sure your brain hadn’t thought a thing.

Xavier hummed, pleased, and pulled you in by his hand on your back. Reflexively, you tilted your head down expecting him to kiss the same spot that Zayne had, but he used his other hand to hold your chin. Tilting your head up and pulling a gasp from your lips.

His lips pressed against your cheek, nearly on your jaw, and your hand snapped onto his upper arm– searching for something stable to hold onto.

“One.” He whispered, lips moving against your cheek as he only moved far enough away to inhale.

You tilted your head back as he moved down, prostrating yourself to his teeth and his desires. He could tear your throat out, bite down and thrash like a dog and you’d let him. What a horrible delectable feeling, to be so at the mercy of someone.

He pressed his lips again, more open this time so that when he pulled away you felt the cool dot of saliva he left behind, “Two.”

A barely audible whimper escaped you, and you weren’t sure whether to faint or to fight anymore. Xavier pulled away, looking smug and victorious, “There, now I’ll be twice as lucky today.”

He let you go slowly, almost making sure you could stand on your own before he stepped away. On his way out he grabbed a warm pastry, stuffing it in his mouth like his victory meal and leaving the house like a conquering hero.

You were stuck there. Breathless and standing on a knife’s edge. A part of you wanting to sink into the sticky, syrupy feeling of affection– and the other buzzing with anger at being manipulated. What was that? What was the point of that?

As soon as you feel like you understand things, then they go and do something else!

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, only that the smell of burning eggs is what broke you from your spiraling thoughts. You quickly moved the eggs and sighed exasperatedly at the black char on the bottom of them.

Stupid Xavier and his angelic eyes and his devil tongue. Stupid Zayne and his savored affection and sweet touch. They would be the death of you, if something else didn’t get you first. You felt like a bone being tossed into a lion’s den, gnawed at and exposed for their enjoyment.

Were you a bone to starving lions? Or lion yourself? You realized the only reason you were struggling so much was the idea that you would ruin whatever it was that was going on between them. You were many things, but you weren’t a homewrecker. You wouldn’t participate if it meant coming between them, despite Xavier and his…persuasion.

Cleaning keeps your mind and your body busy. You were sore from your workout from Xavier but it worked in keeping you from thinking too much about your interaction that morning.

You were debating telling Zayne about it, for transparency's sake. But that made your stomach curl in on itself. What would you even say? ‘Hey, your not-boyfriend demanded a goodbye kiss this morning and I trembled like a touch-starved virgin?’

You sighed and shook your head as you put away the cleaning caddy you had been using, “I should just leave.” You whisper to yourself.

“Where are you going?” A voice spoke from behind you, making you nearly jump out of your skin.

Rafayel grinned down at you, hands on his hips and his shirt covered in splotches of paint.

“What?” You questioned as you let your heart recover from the scare.

“You said you were going to leave, where are you going?” Rafayel shifted his weight onto one foot and jutted out his hip.

“No where.” You replied as you shut the door on the supply closet, “I was just thinking.”

The smudge of pale lavender paint on the side of Rafayel’s lips stretched as he frowned, and he looked unconvinced. He clicked his tongue and you saw him move on from that thought.

“Come with me, I need your eyes.” Rafayel reached out and took your hand, his palm was warm but his fingertips cool and you hoped he didn’t mind the slight dampness on yours.

“You need my eyes?” You repeated as he dragged you along towards his studio.

Cool, ventilated air hit you as you entered his creative domain. A fan in the corner stirring up a sketchbook and fluttering its canvas pages. It made it almost too cool for comfort here, but Rafayel didn’t seem to mind.

“I started a new series.” Rafayel explained as he pulled you to the low goldenrod couch. With a little maneuvering he sat you down and then walked over to grab a large square canvas that was leaning against a work table. “Tell me what you think.”

Rafayel held up the canvas in front of him, his paint stained fingers careful to remain along the edges.

“I’m hardly qualified to critique your work,” You protested.

Rafayel’s pout nearly made you cackle, “You do it. Tell me if it’s too waiting-room.”

You sighed and examined the work. It was soft. That was your first thought. Clearly a depiction of flowers floating on the surface of water. Though it was hazy, the edges all softened and slightly blurred. Dreamlike and ethereal but still very real. Like you could reach out and feel the softness of the petals or ripple the surface of the water.

“It’s beautiful.” You say as you sit up a bit straighter. “It’s so soft. How do you make it feel so glowy?”

Rafayel peers around the edge of his painting and then back to you, “Blending mostly. Reflected light, and making sure the color palette is cohesive.”

He sits the painting down and goes back to you, bending down to take your hand that was sitting on your knee. “Here I’ll show you.”

And again, you’re being pulled. You pass by three more paintings on the floor that match the one he showed you, all flowers on different liquid surfaces. One is multicolored and iridescent and the flowers are surrounded with bubbles like they’re floating in a bath. Another on shifting wine-dark seawater, edged with churning foam.

He brings you to an easel in the corner, a few other unfinished paintings sit on the floor discarded and a large rectangular canvas sits on its ledge. A workstation is sat next to it, a glass palette on top of it and several containers of long paintbrushes alongside it.

“Sit,” He directs as he pulls a stool over and sets you on in. Placed directly in front of the canvas you feel too much like a kid in front of a fragile vase. One wrong move and it’s shattered.

Rafayel’s hand settles on your back, sliding down to rest at the base of your spine as he plucks a paintbrush out and hands it to you.

“Hold it back here.” He shows you with his own hand, “And let us just barely touch the canvas.”

You jerk back as he begins to guide your hand to the painting, “I can’t. I’ll ruin it!”

“There is no ruining it.” Rafayel’s voice is a rumble in your ear, “Just changing. Now, let the brush just barely touch the surface and swirl it. Like tickling it.”

You can’t help but giggle softly and let Rafayel hold his hand over yours as the paintbrush barely kisses the wet paint. The forget-me-nots have barely come into fruition, Rafayel must have been working on them still as he slides his and your hands to feather the edge of a petal, blending it into the crystalline water.

“Good.” Rafayel coos and you feel his voice as much as you hear it. It slides down you like a shot of liquor sending a shiver down your spine and heat in your belly.

The fingertips on your back feel like they press harder into you, but you’re sure that’s your imagination.

“Now you try.” Rafayel lets go of your hand. You turn your head to look at him but his expression is unreadable.

“Are you sure?” You ask, still worried about somehow ruining his work.

Rafayel grins, “I’ll just have to make sure you sign your name next to mine on this one. Since you did help.”

You laugh, “Yeah, sure.”

“I’m serious, cutie. Your hands have touched it, so I can’t take full credit.” Rafayel hummed and watched you hesitantly continue to blend.

He steps onto your other side and he lowers his chin down onto your shoulder. The weight of him makes you freeze and then your head, but that makes your hair shift over him. And your face was far too close to his.

“How are you getting along?” He asks, eyes glued to the canvas and your frozen brush. You feel the rumble of his voice on your back, “With the others?”

“Oh…um…” Words are hard when you're this flustered. A sane part of you argues for your personal space, but another sadder more starved part of you hushes the other.

You clear your throat before continuing, “It’s going well. Zayne explained a little about your situation.”

His chin shifts, head tilting closer into your neck, “He did?”

You nod and try to focus on the other flower and not the addition of his hands in your waist, “Mhmm. I got to talk more with Sylus the other day, and Xavier has offered to train with me. It’s nice. I feel like we can all be friends, you know?”

Rafayel huffs and his breath tickles your neck, “Friends, huh?”

He shifts, moving to press himself against your back fully. Boldly. A low inquiring rumble vibrates behind you. “I feel like I should warn you about your new friends , then.”

The seriousness in his tone contrasts against the warm lighting and the tenderness in his touch. Like his body and voice weren’t connected at all. Because he holds you like someone cradles something precious– like he’d held his painting not a few minutes before. Keeping his fingers along the edge to preserve the image.

But his voice is a drawl. The low tone of a bow across a cello, setting a tone of solemn disdain. He sounded disappointed, or maybe irritated? He was hard to define, and harder to know. It felt like each time you saw him he was something new, and you had to learn all over again.

“How so?” You whisper, his hand gliding up the curve of your waist and trailing down your arm back to your wrist. His long fingers wrap around you, and pull your brush over to the palette. As if you were his paintbrush, he effortlessly swishes the bristles into smears of his mixed paints, picking up form blobs around the corner to create a deeper hue.

In an act of puppetry, Rafayel draws you back to the painting and begins to paint with your hand. His chest stretched across your shoulder and his breath brushing against your ear. The silence in the room deafened by the soft brush of his exhale.

“Zayne is clueless.” Rafayel said, his lips quirking upwards, “For someone so smart, he rarely knows what’s going on. Don’t count on him for answers. Come to me instead.”

His face was on the other side of you now, and you turned to argue in defense of your friend. But Rafayel was already looking at you, smirking. He continued, silencing your protest before it began, “Sylus is a glutton. Don’t give him anything you aren’t willing to give up completely. Unless you want him following you around like a lost little puppy, don’t bother with him.”

The spark of irritation you had felt for Zayne is only stoked higher. You didn’t know Sylus well, if at all, but he hardly deserved to be talked down to like that. A sense of defensiveness swelled in your chest, and you were scowling at him, open mouth ready to argue.

“And Xavier’s a liar.” Rafayel continued, no one in the house safe from his critique it seemed, “He wants to train? Yeah, right. He wants to hoard your time. He’s worse than Sylus sometimes, and he’s twice as jealous.”

You scoff, believing now that Rafayel was making stuff up just to confuse you, “Jealous? Of what?”

The hand holding your wrist and glissading across the canvas stopped, and the grip tightened. Rafayel’s alexandrite eyes turned on you like the sight of a bow, and an arrow was knocked.

His other arm wrapped around your waist, sliding until his hand was firmly gripping your hip and squeezing until it almost hurt. A darkness brewed in his eyes, expanding like cold-front of an ocean storm.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling pinned. Worse than this morning when Xavier had crowded you up against the countertop. That felt like being cornered. This felt like being snared. You were tangled in a net and the more you moved the worse it got.

“Of anything and everything that takes your attention away from him.” Rafayel’s words brushed against you, his lips so close.

You were breathing fast, ensnared in the multicolor of his eyes and the heat from him leaching into you.

“He’s bad at sharing.” Rafayel looked slightly amused at the rabbit-like wideness to your eyes, “The worst of us.”

“I didn’t…” Nonsense is all that could escape you. “I don’t want to get between.”

“Oh cutie .” Rafayel’s hand around your wrist slid down, flicking the paintbrush out of your fingers and letting it clatter to the floor. He grabbed your palm and drew it close. You were completely wrapped up in him now. A little guppy tangled up in the paralyzing fingers of an anemone. “ Are you sure about that?”

Your heart stopped, “What?”

Rafayel grinned and suddenly the ear-popping pressure of his presence backed off. The arm around your waist slid back to settle benignly at your spine, and the hand clenched around yours eased. He blinked and the storm in his eyes was replaced with sunny playfulness, “Don’t worry so much. You’ll get wrinkles.”

You could feel him dismiss this, and frowned, “No, what do you mean? I’m not trying to get in between you guys. I’m not that kind of person.”

“You’re not? That’s a shame.” Rafayel took a step back and you felt you might fall off your stool without him for a moment. He placed his hands on his hips, taunting you, “It’s too bad you’re already there.”

“What’s that mean?” You stand up, “If I’m causing problems I’ll leave. Is Xavier mad at me? Is that why he–”

“He what?” Rafayel’s chin lowered.

You huffed, “Zayne kissed me goodbye this morning. On the forehead, nothing crazy. And Xavier wanted one too. Only he…he wanted a slightly different one.”

Rafayel scoffs, “He tries to act so cool, but he’s so predictable sometimes. I knew he’d break first. Look cutie, stop thinking of us like some four-way engagement that you’ll somehow put a wedge in. Stop tiptoeing and overthinking.”

“I’m just here to clean. “ You raise your hands in a wall in front of you, “I got put on leave at my job and kicked out of my apartment. That’s the only reason why I’m here. I think you’re overthinking this.”

Rafayel crossed his arms, “Oh, yeah? Well, the last two housekeepers lasted less than a week each. Xavier never even saw them, and you can bet Zayne wasn’t giving them little good-bye kisses. Sylus avoided them like the plague and when he did see them he made sure to put the fear of God into them. Regardless of how you got here, you’re here now. And it’s different.”

You cross your arms, an unconscious movement to seek some comfort. It was overwhelming to imagine that all four of them liked you enough to not only keep you around but to want you here.

“Well, save your declarations of love until after I clean your studio.” You say, hoping to deflect some of this pressure. “I’ll be sure to move everything.”

Rafayel laughs and steps forward, reaching out like he might place his hand on the side of your face, but changing his mind at the last second. “Just let me know if you change any of them. So you can sign them too.”

__________________

You spend Tuesday in Rafayel’s studio. He spends a remarkable amount of time not painting. Lazing about on the couch, or flipping through sketchbooks. He mumbles to himself and scrolls on his phone, and only precious few moments are spent actually working.

It confounds you that he can be such a popular and famous artist if this is how his days look.

You don’t know why you're irritated with him, and when you first enter his studio its with the intention to wreck it. It wouldn’t occur to you later that anger is just the replacement for confusion, and frankly– embarrassment.

It takes less than an hour for you to change your mind. You meticulously flatten out the crumpled pieces of sketchbook paper and lay them in a stack. Trash is still thrown away, and the floor is swept in piecemeal. You pick up tubes of paint, wipe beneath them, and place them exactly where they were before. Canvases are shifted to sweep behind and then put back.

Your threat of moving everything turns into an apologetic, agonizing amount of effort to not do that. There is love in Rafayel’s work, and it feels too wrong to try and wound him that way.

So, you clean the studio and it looks the same as when you started sans scattered papers, trash, dust bunnies, etc. It’s all around just a shinier, more pristine chaos.

Rafayel tries on more than one occasion to get you to help him again. He lures you in with inquiries about color choices. Which paint brush is your favorite? Can you hold this for me? Here, stand there, you can be my model. No, don’t pout at me miss housekeeper. I’m serious!

The tempestuous aura he had yesterday is gone, replaced by a more familiar pestering. It’s easier to deal with, and honestly a bit fun. He pouts so childishly when you deny him.

It takes you all day to finish the studio and you’re so exhausted you text Zayne you can’t make dinner and then promptly pass out.

Wednesday morning rolls around and you wake up before your alarm. Your heart is racing and stomach fluttering. You’d promised to train with Xavier again today before your appointment with Zayne. Your last interaction with the blond has left you unsure of what to expect, and you’re equal parts confused and buzzing with anticipation.

Xavier knocks on your door and smiles at you with that blinding sweetness. You’re dressed and ready this time, and follow him to the gym like nothing has changed. Had it?

He pushes a little harder today. Like he wanted to make sure you feel it. It distracts you enough to all but forget about the last time Xavier was close to you. The possession in his touch and how you knew for almost certain it wasn’t because of his feelings for Zayne.

You’re panting and tired by the time you’re done, and only when you're nearly ready to tap out does Xavier relent.

Xavier tells you you're done and you collapse out of your plank onto the padded floor below. You hear his soft chuckle from above and then his gentle fingers nudging your hair to the side. They trail downward to palm at your shoulder and he helps you up.

“You did well.” He crooned. His crooked fingers lift your chin and place your water bottle to your lips, letting you drink– keeping you there until he’s satisfied you’ve hydrated enough.

“Thanks.” You pant in between gulps of air. Leveling out, you go to stand but Xavier is there, offering his hand which you take. He hauls you up and keeps his hand in yours like you might be unsteady. It’s not until you look at your clasped hands that he lets go.

You part ways and the rest of the morning plays out the same as it had before, only Zayne isn’t there. A note and a text both letting you know he had to leave early. His pretty handwriting on a little sticky note which also assures you that he has eaten.

You make breakfast and Xavier eats his portion. He thanks you, puts his dish in the sink and then comes to your side. His hand sliding across your back to keep you in place.

Xavier’s laugh is low as you look up at him with your bottom lip between your teeth. He tilts his head, “Does it make you uncomfortable? If it’s not Zayne?”

Your mouth falls open, “No. I mean…maybe. It’s new. That’s all.”

“New.” He repeats the word like he's tasting it. Letting it mull in his mouth as his brows tilt downward. He blinks and focuses back on you, “So then– one, or two?”

Your stomach flips and you keep your clammy hands clenched, “One.”

Xavier’s smile could blind someone someday. It’s a hazard and should be regulated, surely. You nearly stumble and the genuine eagerness that appears in his face. The teasing and amusement melting into something so deeply, and emphatically pure.

He happily lowers his head down for you, closing his eyes like you might bestow him a crown. You can’t help but laugh, for all his boyish charms he’s still ridiculously tall and has to practically kneel so you can kiss his forehead.

Call it a spark of insanity, or perhaps a lack of self-preservation, you step forward, placing your foot in between his. You pinch his chin in between your thumb and forefinger, maneuvering as you wish as you tilt him up slightly.

His eyes open and he looks so caught off guard that he might faint. You lean in, and Xavier’s breathing stops.

When you press a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose, a ragged vulnerable exhale leaves him. Like you’ve wounded him, but simultaneously blessed him too. A too-raw expression making you wonder if you miscalculated.

“Only one, right?” You ask, all the bravado leaving you at the sudden flash in his eyes. You can almost see him debate, closing the distance himself as his eyes flick down to your lips before going back up again.

He closes his eyes and nods, “Right. Only a normal amount of luck then.”

You laugh lightly as Xavier straightens up, “Be careful, yeah?”

Xavier pauses to give you another affirming nod and then leaves.

When you’re alone in the kitchen, you exhale like you’ve just run a marathon and continue with preparing the other two’s breakfast. You’ve learned by now to just put them in containers for whenever they decide to eat.

Maybe Rafayel was right, and you need to stop overthinking. It did feel remarkably good to just….enjoy.

You realize you should have asked Xavier for a ride when you realize you don’t have your own transportation less than thirty minutes later. It pains you to order a taxi– the price alone makes your chest hurt, but it's not like it's your last dime anymore. Which is nice.

The ride to the hospital is spent with its normal amount of pre-appointment nerves. Zayne is ruthless when it comes to your health, and it doesn’t help that you can’t exactly lie to him and tell him anymore. Not when he knows every meal you eat and the amount of sleep you’re getting.

You greet the receptionist and wait less than five minutes before Zayne comes out to get you. He’s wearing an emerald button up and charcoal vest under his white coat today, and he looks so very good in green. The lab coat doesn’t hurt either.

His office doubles as an exam room for his patients, and you go over to the table and sit on the crunchy paper when he directs you to.

The first part is always the same. Vitals. Heart Rate, O2, Blood pressure. He takes a small blood sample and listens to your heart with a good old-fashioned stethoscope. There was plenty of technology that made stethoscopes unnecessary in many cases, but Zayne always said he liked to do things with his own hands, and listen with his own ears.

“How have you been sleeping?” He asks as he scribbles down a note with the stylus on the tablet next to him. “Any more disruptions?”

You shake your head, “I’m sleeping fine. I hardly wake up at night anymore.”

“That’s good.” Zayne replies coolly, “I’m reluctant to prescribe my heart patients with sleeping medication.”

“How are you sleeping?” You turn back to him, “You’ve been at the hospital a lot lately.”

Zayne’s hazel eyes flicker up to you and he shakes his head, “I go where I’m needed. There’s been more fluctuations lately.”

“Ah, I see.” You reply lamely. “That doesn’t mean you don’t need sleep. Are you still sleeping in your office?”

Zayne’s eyes narrow, “I believe this is your examination. Not mine.”

“I worry. That’s all.” You reply quickly. “So, what’s the prognosis, doctor Zayne? How long do I have?”

“I hate those jokes, you know that.” Zayne condemns with an icy look, “You’re doing well. Your vitals are slightly better than the last appointment, and the preliminary blood work is acceptable.”

You nod as Zayne goes over to his desk and you hop down from the exam table to follow him. He places his tablet down next to his computer and then turns back to you, “I’d like you to eat more iron, and make sure you’re resting when you can.”

“Xavier kissed me.”

It’s not the reply you intended, but it’s what came out. Zayne doesn’t physically react beyond looking up at you sharply.

“What?”

You pick at your nails and scramble to pick up the pieces of your sudden confession. “It wasn’t too crazy or anything! He wanted a goodbye kiss too! And then he did it twice, and then this morning I kissed him back.”

Zayne was silent. His middle fingertip tapping against the lacquered wood of his desk was the only movement besides his eyes. They searched your face and then closed.

“I didn’t want to keep it from you.” You say quickly, “He said… and Rafayel– I’m sorry.”

Oh god, you fucked it up. You crossed a line. You were a homewrecker! You’d crushed Zayne’s heart by kissing his boyfriend and you’d let Rafaye convince you it was ok! You were definitely fucking his studio up now. No canvas was safe.

“I see.” His voice in a deadly timbre, and you freeze. He approaches you slowly, a deadly prowl like the languid elegance of a jaguar. “Did he make you uncomfortable?

You lick at your lips, feeling suddenly dry, “No. Not really.”

Zayne nods and reaches out, holding your chin and resting his thumb against your bottom lip. The coolness of his touch makes your knees wobble. Zayne never touches you. Never initiates anything beyond chaste and familial contact. This is…

“Was it here?” Zayne asks, eyes locked on where his thumb pulls down your lower lip ever so slightly.

You try not to move, afraid if you do he’ll flee. This delicate blossom of intimacy he’s given you too precious to lose.

“N-no.” You whisper, barely moving your lips. His touch becomes a bit firmer, pressing into both your top and bottom lip and you resist the urge to kiss it properly. You’re suddenly very aware of your tongue too.

“Where then?” Zayne’s whispering now, reserved still like he’s afraid to know the answer. He lets his head drift away from your chin, the backs of his fingers brushing against your cheek.

“M-my cheek first.” You explain, confessing like a child to their teacher. You felt like you were in trouble, but being honest would keep you out of a worse punishment. Reaching up, you point to the place on your jaw where Xavier had kissed first. “Then…” You swallow, “Then my neck.”

You point that out too, and Zayne’s eyes follow the movement.

“And you?” Zayne cups your jaw and swipes his thumb over where Xavier had kissed over two days ago. “Where did you kiss him?”

“On the nose. This morning.” You confess.

Zayne blinks, the gears in his labyrinthine mind turning. You wouldn’t wager a bet to even guess what he was thinking. Flip flopping between fear and tenuous hope.

His other hand goes to rest on your upper arm, and draws you in.

“Zayne,” You whisper, moving along with him as he uses the hand on your jaw to tilt your face up. “Are you…Are you mad at me?”

Zayne replies with a hum, “I’m not sure.”

A stab to your gut, you scramble for more apologies. Willing to fall on your sword to gain his forgiveness again.

“Don’t misinterpret me,” Zayne says a bit firmer, “You’re free to do as you wish. As is Xavier. I just…find myself…”

He exhales and it sounds like it shakes, but you chock that up to your delirious imagination.

“I didn’t want to cross that line with you.” Zayne sounds like he’s talking more to himself than to you. “I wanted to keep things professional, so you weren’t uncomfortable. But…but I find myself thinking of it more and more lately. Dreaming of it.”

You sink into his hold, the fear of his anger evaporating at his ragged words. “Dreaming of what?”

The hand on your jaw moves back down to place the tips of his middle and forefinger at the curve of your cupid’s bow, drawing a line down to the corner. “Can I have this spot? Can I ?”

You're suddenly dizzy, and worry for a moment that the taxi you rode here in is in a ditch and you're living out some pre-death fantasy, high on chemicals just before you die.

Zayne’s head tilts to the side, taking you in. The moment stretches on for ages as your mind– sticky with his honeyed words– slowly begins to understand. He wants to kiss you. He’s asking to kiss you.

The moment the realization hits you’re nodding and shifting forward, but Zayne is already there. Sliding his hand across your jaw and into your hair, intertwining his fingers as much as he can without grabbing it.

His lips are warm as they press against you, pushing and pushing until you’re reeling from the pressure. He shifts and you follow, a slow sweet kiss sliding down into something richer.

Hungry is the word you think of when you feel his lips ply at yours, opening you up from closed-mouth pecks into something more open and wet. Your first taste of him is so deafening you don’t even realize what it is, your mind three steps behind your body.

Cool and sweet. Like soft butter mints.

You wonder what you must taste like to him as he draws his teeth against your bottom lip. It must be good because he groans like he’s been wounded, and dives back in with more fervor and heat than before.

The backs of your legs knock into his desk, a picture frame clattering over and onto the floor. It goes unheard and unnoticed as Zayne’s hands leave your hair to claw at your leg, pulling you up to sit on the edge of the desk.

You whine into his mouth. A willingly and eager participant as you wrap your arms around his neck, keeping him close. A hedonistic thrall that entwines you both.

A man possessed. Completely overcome and rendered down to nothing but physicality. His brain must be off, and you were glad it was. Lucid Zayne would never shift the books next to your hips to the side. Never hook his fingers under your knee to ply them apart so he could fit between them.

He’d never use the wide expanse of his shoulders to hunch over you, slowly but surely pressing you further and further into the desktop.

“ So sweet.” He groans under his breath and it slides down your spine like the hit of a drug. Settling in your core and you can’t help the breathy moan you answer him with.

Your mewl is met with a roll of his hips. And it’s the most mind-numbing friction and simultaneously not enough. You cling to him as he grinds again, caught up in his own mind-numbing sensations.

“We can’t…” You have just enough sense to whisper, remembering where you are. Zayne growls and drags his lips down to your jaw and then to your neck, sucking a mark onto your pulse.

Zayne doesn’t seem to care. Continuing to move his clothed hips against yours until you’re close to tears. Close to begging him to just shift some clothes to the side. Move whatever he has to to get closer.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Like a death knell on the room, Zayne freezes mid thrust. His hips pressed firmly against yours. You’re holding onto his shoulders for dear life, wrinkling his pristine, white coat and his glasses are halfway down his nose.

“ Dr. Zayne, your next patient is here. I’ve been messaging.”

“Shit.” You curse at the sound of the kind, but timid nurse on the other side of the door.

“Give me five minutes.” Zayne answers, voice even– like he’d caught up reading a book and not tearing you apart.

“Zayne.” You say quietly, unsure of what to do now.

He stands up and takes you with him, sitting up on his desk and moving to correct your shifted clothing. With a stern expression, he preens your hair and wipes at your face.

“I got carried away.” He sounds guilty and you can’t help but laugh.

“I didn’t mind.” You say, hoping he’ll smile. He does.

He adjusts his clothing and fixes his glasses, “We shouldn’t do this at the hospital.”

You laugh again and shake your head, holding his hand as he helps you off the desk. You help him pick up the scattered decor and set the photo back up. An old photo of when he’d graduated college, his parents standing next to him.

“Are you alright? I didn’t–” He clears his throat, “I didn’t hurt you did I?”

You firmly shake your head, “No you didn’t hurt me. Just the opposite. Unless you start spouting about this being a mistake. That would hurt.”

Zayne reaches out, petting your hair and placing his forehead to the top of yours, “Never. We got carried away, but this was not a mistake.”

“Good,” You reply. “I should go though, before she comes back.”

“Right.” Zayne looks physically reluctant to step away, but he manages it. “I’ll be home for dinner. I’ll see you then.”

You squeeze his hand, the last part of him to let go and then step away. “I’ll see you then.”

__________________________

You’re giddy the whole ride home. Buzzing with returned affection while simultaneously straining under unreleased tension. Any discomfort forgotten until you get to your room.

You rush up the stairs, thankful no one else is around to see you flee. Locking the door behind you, you throw yourself down onto your bed, fully intending on sliding your hand down your pants as soon as you can. The remnants of Zayne’s touch enough to make you heart-poundingly desperate.

Only you feel something under you. And you move to see what it is.

A black box, wrapped in satiny black wrapping and a pretty crimson bow on top. You check for a tag, but find none. A little confused, you open it. Sliding it open and finding another box within. Only this one is more industrial and familiar. A gun case for a handgun. You flick open the latch and open it, surprised to see a 9mm handgun. Carbon black and trimmed with red. The handle and barrel are carved with a pretty scrolling script and down the lines of it are embedded with shiny red resin. It's tasteful. It's elegant.

Checking the safety you lift it from its cushiony box and examine it closer. When you lift it however, you hear soft tinkling. And see a charm as been hooked to it– a juvenile addition to a very pretty gun.

At the end of the chain is the cutesy head of a black cat. Smiling and round. It looked like something you’d win in a claw machine. And surely could not have come with a gun like this.

You look back into the gun case and see a note, which had been placed underneath the firearm.

A single folded card.

An extra claw for the kitten.

You huff in amusement and examine the gun again. Did Sylus really get you a gun? It’s extravagant and a bit odd, but you like it. It’s been a long time since you’d held a gun, and the weight of it was familiar and a bit exhilarating.

A thought occurred to you as you placed the gun back into its case. Were you being wooed right now?

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#love and deepspace #lads #lads x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #sylus x reader #zayne x reader #lads fanfic #lads smut

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