#and on that note ... has anyone read the new on a friday

[allylikethecat]

Can we have a status update on You Know Where the City Is? No pressure at all, it’s just my favorite haha🥰

Hello! Thank you so much for this message and for reading! I'm so happy to hear that you're enjoying You Know Where the City Is despite the IRL mess that was ~whatever that was~ between Matty and Taylor! I take way too much pride in the fact that I started the fic before ~that whole thing~ lol

I had hoped to get chapter 11 out before the holidays since it's a Christmas chapter, and then chapter 12 out on NYE or New Year's Day since it's the New Year's chapter... but alas that did not happen and I didn't even finish my strictly holiday fics 😬 my goal is to get all of the holiday situations fully wrapped up by the end of January though - we'll see if I actually manage to hit that goal! I have been working on the chapter and I'm excited to post it and hear everyones thoughts! I will admit I got a little in my head about it though - people were very lovely on Tumblr but no one commented on AO3 so I fully convinced myself everyone hated it so it's very nice to hear that you're enjoying it and looking for the next update 😊

Thank you so much for reading, this message and your continued support! I hope you continue to enjoy You Know Where the City Is and our favorite fictional bisexual disaster duo! Have a great rest of your week and a very happy new year!

❤️Ally

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Pairing: Russell Shaw xf!reader, Reader POV

Summary:  The last thing that you wanted was to be woken up in the middle of the night by Colter Shaw for a favor, but when he shows up toting a ruggedly handsome man with green eyes you decide to forgive him. Reader is the niece of Velma and Teddi!

Word Count: 10.3K

Warnings: I'm gonna label this one 18+ just in case I missed anything. Blood, Cleaning Out A Wound, Mentions of Allergies? Gunshots, Some Cursing, A Bit of Sexual Innuendo, Sexual fantasy/reader has active imagination, Self-deprecating Thoughts/Body Issues (reader), Mentions of Infidelity, Reader Is A Single Mom, Appearance Of Creepy-Jerk Ex Husband, Probably a Poor Description Of What It’s Like To Be A Single Mom (I tried my best, please I do not mean to offend anyone❤️), Russell Shaw might be a little bit OOC. Reader is occasionally described as "curvy."

Song Inspiration: Long As I Can See The Light By Creedence Clearwater Revival

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n if any. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite! This is my first time writing for Russell Shaw, so, please be gentle. 😅

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

A/N: I finally watched Tracker… Could you tell? 😂

Sunday nights, in your opinion, were the worst.

It was like the last few moments of freedom before you were thrust into a busy work week, like the last few rays of light before the coming darkness that you barely survived with copious amounts of coffee and bloodied fingertips. Monday always loomed, but never as much as on Sunday nights.

The dull thud of your phone vibrating against your wooden bedside table grates on your ears and pulls you from the sweet precipice of sleep before you can fall into the void.

It felt as if you’d just collapsed into your bed and one look at the alarm clock on your bedside table as you blinked your bleary eyes confirmed it. It was 3:58 am, which meant you had been in bed for exactly three minutes.

You were still covered in chocolate cupcake batter, pink frosting, and rainbow sprinkles from the last six hours you'd spent in the kitchen making gluten free, sugar free, and peanut free cupcakes for a bake sale at your son’s school.

Even though you hadn't volunteered Stephanie Jacobson, or rather the wicked witch of the PTA, had cornered you in the pick-up line on Friday afternoon to remind you of your "duties as a parent" and the coming bake sale to support the building of the new gym. And then she’d handed you a list of student allergies and asked you to create something that was safe for everyone.

Taste be damned.

Why the school needed a new gym you didn't know, but the guilt that rose when Stephanie mentioned your "duties as a parent" was enough to make you say yes to whatever she asked you.

You had enough guilt already about raising your kids without a stable father figure, and the last thing you needed was guilt from a stuck up bitch in the PTA.

Stephanie reminded you of the girls in high school that used to pick at their food, the ones that knew exactly what to say to make you feel like a freak, the ones who dated the football players and spent their Friday nights wearing cheerleading uniforms and waving pom poms, and the ones who basically made everyone else's life a living hell.

Everything about her screamed superior. The flawless way she curled her perfect platinum blonde hair, the stylish clothes she wore than never seemed to have a wrinkle or a mashed carrot smeared on the pants, the supple breasts that she swore were real, a perfectly toned stomach that never seemed to change despite her having a child two months ago, and the easy way she handled all of her three children with a flourish of her left hand that housed a 6 karat diamond ring from her gorgeous husband that was so attentive, perfect, and rich that it made you feel sick to your stomach.

All of which anyone could read on her mommy blog that she'd dubbed "Little Mistakes Make Perfect Lessons," and the same blog that she'd created an empire from.

Fuck, you hated her.

Mostly because despite everything you tried you never had enough time in the day to look as flawless as she did.

Your hair never seemed to be as bouncy or perfectly styled, you never had time to put makeup on, you always had mashed carrot on your pants or some form of cheerio or baby food, as many times as you tried to carve out time for the gym you never seemed to make it, the small ring you'd once wore on your finger was sitting idle in your jewelry box upstairs where it had been for the past year after your husband of six years told you that he met someone else, and your stomach and your breasts… you didn't want to think about that right now.

You had two kids and you weren't going to pretend that it did nothing to your body, any part of your body. And as many times as you saw all the other mothers around you who were proud of the way they looked, you never had their confidence, especially not after the comments that your ex-husband had made each time the two of you finally had some time to be alone together.

But that wasn't to say you hated being a mom, you loved it, wouldn't change it for the world. It was just sometimes you wished you had a little help, that, and you wished that Mondays didn't exist. 

You groan as you reach for the phone that still vibrates desperately on your bedside table and flip it over to see who's calling before you answer it.

"Colter, why the hell are you calling me at four am?" You half moan, pulling the comforter up over your head as if that'll make Monday go away.

You'd been close to murder several times, first when you found your husband in your bed with his nineteen year-old secretary, second when your local coffee shop was out of espresso and you did your entire shift at the hospital with no coffee, and Colter Shaw waking you up at almost four in the morning was quickly becoming number three.

"Because I didn't want to wake up Emma or Luke. Can you open the door?" He replies, stating the names of your children, sounding slightly out of breath.

"What door?" You groan again, eyes still shut wishing that this was just a bad dream and Colter wasn't calling you because he needed your help… again.

"The front door. Please, I need you to let me in."

"Why are you here? Couldn't it wait until tomorrow? Did you try to call Teddi or Vel-"

"I'll explain when you come open the door."

"By doing that I'd have to get up."

"Please."

You hesitate. Colter didn't usually say please, let alone twice whenever he showed up needing your help.

You'd met him by accident.

Sure your Aunt Teddi had talked about the "rewardist" that she and your Aunt Velma worked with, but you hadn't been expecting to ever meet him. But when Colter got shot on a job and showed up at Teddi and Velma's home you'd helped patch him up. You'd been there picking up your six year old son Luke and your three year old daughter Emma, after work. Teddi and Velma watched them for you when your deadbeat ex Lance couldn't be bothered to give you the support you needed.

Which was all the time despite his continuous arguing that he was in their lives enough and if anything it was your fault that he didn't have more time with them.

Each time he said that it made you want to slam his head in the door of his brand new bright red BMW, the one he'd bought right after you found him in your bedroom plowing his secretary now girlfriend Crystal. Or as you liked to remember her, the girl who still believed that Santa Clause existed and that the U.S government was hiding him from the world.

But Colter had been hurt and it was just fate that you were there at your aunts home to pick up your kids.

Being an ER nurse meant that you knew how to patch Colter up and it wasn't long before he went on his way. That was about four months ago and since then you'd talked to him occasionally when he'd pop by at your aunts home or just to see if you could help him with something.

"Five minutes." You sigh.

This time you crawl out of bed, standing just to the side of it for a second shaking your head to clear the sleep, and grab the long sleeved blue colored duster/robe that was hanging on the back of your bedroom door. Navigating your way down the stairs in the dark as quietly as you can, while half asleep was difficult, but somehow you avoid falling to your death.

Unfortunate, because now you have to go see what Colter wants at freaking 4 am.

The second story home had been you ex-husband's idea, stated that the two of you needed "room to grow" and that the two of you were "investing in your future."

You frown at the thought.

Yeah, room to grow right into your fucking secretary.

As if you needed another blow to your self esteem, but looking at the skinny red-haired goddess that he'd traded you in for that was about as dumb as a rock had been enough to send you so low you might as well be navigating the Marianas Trench in a submarine with a Megalodon chasing after you.

Maybe that means I'd get to be with Jason Stratham.

That thought was welcome. Honestly the thought of any man was a comfort, especially in the dry spell you'd been having since -well- since you'd had Emma three years ago.

Not gonna think about that right now.

The smell of chocolate cupcakes hung heavy in the air as you crossed through the messy living room, wafting out through the open concept kitchen into the space. One look into the kitchen would show enough cupcakes to make anyone salivate, and yes maybe you'd eaten a few before going up to bed, but eating the chocolate didn't count if it was on Sunday night and you could always go to the gym tomorrow…

Yeah. Like that'll happen.

You open the front door. "Alright, somebody better be dying Colter or I swear that I'll-" You stop mid-sentence when you take in the scene on your porch.

Colter is standing there, looking worse for wear. His usual black jacket is gone, he's got a black eye and a scrape along one of his perfect cheekbones, but that's not who you're looking at.

Colter isn't alone.

There's a man leaning heavily on Colter, his muscular right arm is thrown across Colter's shoulders and due to the fact that the man is a little bigger than Colter, he's buckling slightly under his weight. The man is wearing a green army jacket that is soaked around his left shoulder in blood, his dark hair is falling long into his bearded face, and his skin is a few shades paler than it should be. But that doesn't make him any less handsome.

The man still manages to throw you a sly grin, brilliant green eyes shining beneath the strands of his dark hair. "I think you got your wish sweetheart."

"You're not dying Russell." Colter sighs as if he's annoyed. "Hi." He directs at you.

You do feel a little bit bad about saying that now, but you shake it off.

"What the hell happened?" You say as loud as you dare and pull the front door further open so Colter can drag the man, now named "Russell" into your home.

"Shoot out." Colter breathes. "Where do you want him?"

"Kitchen table." You say trying to reach for Russell's left arm to help Colter, but he groans low under his breath and you retract your hand.

"You've got to be a little gentle with me sweetheart." Russell laughs more to himself, but it comes out in a choked sound. "But you can have me wherever you want."

"Colter, he needs to go to the hospital." You say, following behind them, keeping your voice down. "I don't think that I can-"

"Can't, they'll report it. They have to report all gunshots, you know that." Colter grunts, helping Russell lay back on the large kitchen table. "Why are there so many cupcakes in here?"

"Bake sale at Luke’s school." You clip while waving a hand and looking down at Russell who is laying on the kitchen table.

You can't deny that he's attractive, even in this condition. Russell has the perfect ruggedly handsome features that would make the smartest girl stupid and combined with the piercing green eyes that shine beneath the hair that's fallen forward into his face, even you could see yourself being susceptible to his charm.

Fuck.

Deep down you know that Colter is right, that if he did go to the hospital they'd be required to report it and that meant police and an official report. You figured that it was the last thing that Colter wanted.

Then again the guy has so many marks on his record already. You eye the man on your kitchen table. Russell kinda looks like he would have a few marks too.

"Don't want who did this to find him." Colter clarifies.

"So instead you brought him to my house where my children are?" You cross your arms over your chest.

The fear that whatever Colter and Russell had stumbled upon following behind them to your home made a cold trickle of fear race down your spine.

"We weren't followed." Colter soothes. "I promise I'd never do that to you. And I've got Bobby doing a trace to make sure they don't come close."

He actually looks a little hurt that you'd think that of him. Colter was a lot of things, but uncaring was not one of them.

You relax, but don't apologize despite the guilt swimming in your gut. "Fine. Give me a second." You leave the room to find the first aid kit in the hall closet, the same one that you'd made for your aunts to keep at their house if Colter showed up in the middle of the night with this exact problem. You'd even been involved enough to show your aunts how to deal with a gunshot wound if you weren't there.

When you get back in the room, Colter is removing Russell's jacket, and Russell grits his teeth when it jostles his left arm.

You set down the kit and reach for the bottom of Russell's shirt to pull it up off him, and he chuckles.

"Aren't you going to buy me a drink first? Better yet we could have a few bottles of my home brew-"

"She's not going to help you, if you annoy her." Colter interrupts.

"I told you that I didn't need anyone's help, I'm perfectly fine- ow!" Russell exclaims when you accidentally yank the shirt over his left arm. "Your bedside manner is a little lacking." He grunts, but his eyes still twinkle with humor.

"Too bad. I'm tired and I've been making chocolate cupcakes for the past six hours, so you get what you get and you don't throw a fit."

"What?" Russell grins at the rhyme that you often tell your children.

You shake your head, and drop your eyes to his chest. There are two perfect circles on his right upper pectoral muscle, but not high enough to reach the collarbone and one in his left bicep where blood seeps around the bullets, but truthfully you're trying not to notice how perfectly muscular he is. There are dark splashes of tattoos against his skin, swirling around other scars that resemble slashes and bullet wounds that you wish to drag your fingertips across to study each mark, to memorize each one beneath the soft pads of your fingers.

How is he just as beautiful covered in blood?

You clear your throat to focus back at the task at hand, examining the current wounds. "Okay. The good news is that the one on your arm is through and through, but these two," Your hand hovers over the two on his right upper chest. "I've got to extract the bullets. Which means that this is going to hurt."

"Been through worse sweetheart."

Your eyes scan the rest of his scarred muscular chest thoughtfully. "Yeah, you have." You murmur it more to yourself than to Russell, but he still grins.

Colter's phone rings shrilly in the kitchen and he groans. "One second. Try not to make her want to kill you Rus."

"No promises little bro."

Oh, so this is Colter's brother.

You'd heard little bits and pieces about Colter's brother, mostly second hand from your Aunt Velma. One of the best things about going over to Teddi and her home was sitting in the living room and hearing Velma gossip about everything she heard from Teddi while drinking wine and eating fancy cheese that you could never afford.

Russell Shaw was no exception.

"Alone at last." Russell says with a wink. "I didn't think he'd ever leave."

"I'm going to get some water to clean these with." You reply, ignoring him, but when you turn away the end of your mouth quirks up into a smile.

He wasn't what you were expecting based on all the rumors that you'd heard from both of your aunts, in fact, you thought he was kind of charming.

You roll up your sleeves and wash your hands before turning back to Russell. He's sitting up on your kitchen table, hands braced on his sides, with his legs spread wide apart. He doesn’t look like someone with three gunshot wounds, and you wonder if this is a regular day for him. Colter certainly didn't get shot that much.

"So are you a rewardist too?" You ask standing between his legs and trying not to focus on the warmth of his breath against your collar bone.

"Naw. I work for a private security contractor." He breezes.

"Oh." You swallow, looking up into his green eyes for a minute. They're even more beautiful up close, green with flecks of gold around the iris that flicker in the light like stars. "Is it okay if I touch you?"

"You don't gotta ask me that sweetheart, the answer will always be yes."

You flush and brace your hand on his left shoulder, before pouring water into the two wounds on the right side of his chest, trying to clean them the best you can before you extract what's left of the bullets. His skin is warm and smooth beneath the palm of your hand and it's difficult to focus.

Just pretend you're in the hospital and you're treating a patient. You take in a shallow breath. He's just a patient and he's not that good looking.

You know you're lying to yourself, but you were trying your best. It probably didn’t help given the current dry spell you were in or the fact that he even smelled good. Something like gunpowder, leather, and a hint of something spicy that you bet was his shampoo. It prickled under your nose, and activated something in the back of your mind that was having a hard time being quiet. You hadn't been this close to a man you found attractive in a long time.

"Okay. This is going to hurt." You say as you look through the small medical kit that you'd grabbed from the hall closet for the tweezers, trying to calm the thudding of your heart.

"It's okay." Russell replies. "Do what you have to baby. I won't stop you."

You weren't prepared for the warmth that bloomed in the pit of your stomach when he called you baby in the wonderfully rough rumble of his voice.

A voice like that could convince me to jump into a pit filled with alligators with no regrets. Fuck. I'd bet that a voice like that could make me- FOCUS. I will focus. He is Colter's brother and he just got shot. He doesn't need you lusting over him.

Extracting the bullets is as painful for you as it is for him. Watching the way his face scrunches up in pain hurts you more than you thought it would. His hands grip the rim of the wooden kitchen table so hard that they're turning white, and Russell's jaw is clenched so tight that you're afraid that it's going to snap.

You squeeze his left shoulder to give him some comfort. "Almost done." You murmur, searching for the second bullet.

Russell lets out a breath when you finally fish out the other bullet and drop it into an empty cup with a resounding "ping" just as Colter walks back into the room looking worried.

"What?" Russell asks him, looking over your head at his brother.

"That was Bobby. He said that the trace we put on the phone just got a hit a few miles north of here." Colter states. "I'm gonna go check it out."

"Alright, I'll come with." Russell starts to get up, but you push him back with your right hand that you've still got pressed against his left shoulder. Difficult given the fact that he was almost twice the size of you and broader than anyone you'd ever seen. And also difficult because of the way you were trying to ignore how good it felt to feel the pull of his muscles beneath your hand.

"No. You still need stitches and I haven't finished patching you up." You clear your throat, but it still sounds a little hoarse.

"Baby as much as I like you ordering me around-“

"It's alright Russell, I've got this. Just stay here and let her take care of you." Colter interrupts.

Russell frowns at his younger brother. "I'm fine."

"You're not." Colter rolls his eyes. "Stay here. I'll be back in a few hours to pick you up." He turns to look at you. "I'm sorry that we woke you up-"

"It's okay." You shrug. "But you owe me."

"Just add it to my bill." Colter smirks.

Honestly, you weren't as angry as you were when you answered the phone. Something about Russell was different and you didn’t mind helping him at all.

He wasn't like anyone that you had ever met, certainly not in the circles you ran with.

All the dads from your mom friends were blue and white collar workers who worked in the big office buildings downtown, wore suits to work and were more straight-laced, but there was something refreshing about Russell.

He was mysterious, sexy, and his had this aura of self-resilience and survival that you found immensely attractive. Especially when compared to your ex, who couldn't survive without his mocha-caramel double shot latte or wifi.

Russell was the exact opposite of him and you found yourself wanting to know more. More about the almost beautiful scars that curved over his muscular body, more about each tattoo that he’d chosen, and more about him.

He seemed like the kind of guy that hid his trauma under easy smiles and jokes, the kind of person that shrugged off anything that seemed remotely serious with a well placed joke, but you could feel that there was something deeper beneath that he didn’t allow many to see.

And you wanted him to show you.

You weren't sure where any of this was coming from. Russell probably was about as stable and consistent as his brother, and you liked consistency. Spontaneity and surprises tended to make you anxious. But not with Russell.

Though the stability might have been an issue. You were a single working mother, which meant that you didn't want to introduce some random guy into your children's life just to have them get attached and him to bail with no strings attached and-

Calm down. You just met the guy, it's not like he's asking you out on a date.

When Colter leaves and after you’ve cleaned around the wounds the best you can with some alcohol, you realize just how quiet it is in your kitchen.

“You know, I think I’ve seen you before.” Russell says breaking the silence while you search for a needle and thread in the medical kit.

“Really? Where?" You ask looking up.

“In my dreams.”

“Wow." You smile at him. "That line is pretty cheesy."

You shift your right hand over to begin to sew up the wounds on his chest. Russell doesn't even wince when you push the needle through, almost as if he didn't notice it at all.

It made sense, given how many scars and tattoos covered his body. You remember what he said about "being through worse" and it made you feel bad for him, to worry about him. Odd given the fact that the two of you had just met.

"Well I'm a little distracted at the moment sweetheart. It's not often that I get such a beautiful woman to take care of me."

"I thought you didn't need my help?" You smirk.

"Maybe I did." He admits sheepishly.

"Mhmm."

"So how do you know my brother?"

“Why?”

“Trying to see if you’re off limits or not.” Russell tilts his head to the side and flashes a charming smile.

You laugh at his boldness. You’d never met someone so upfront before, it was refreshing. Most of the men you’d meet occasionally at work tended to beat around the bush and made you want to give them a map to get to the point. "We met when he got shot a few months ago."

"Oh so the two of you aren't-" He wiggles his eyebrows and you snort.

"No."

"Huh."

"What?"

"I was just wondering why not?"

"What?"

"Well, you're gorgeous, you're smart, and you're not scared of blood or gunshots. Colter really seems to be dropping the ball."

"Colter doesn't exactly have a stable lifestyle. And I'm kind of complicated."

You were, there wasn't any way around it.

"Why do you think that?"

"Because I've got two kids."

Russell blinks in surprise. "Really?"

"Mhmm." You hum continuing your task, not phased by the blood at all.

His eyes trace your figure for a minute, making a shiver travel down your spine. It was the first time in a long time that you were okay with someone looking at you like that and to be honest, the first time that you wanted someone to look at you like that in a while.

After everything that happened with your ex-husband and his secretary you were more inclined to sit on your couch with a glass of wine and read away your troubles with a steamy romance novel that did more for you than any of your ex-husband's attempts to satisfy you. It also didn't help that you had no interest in going out with your few friends and meeting someone at a club who probably would never call you again and probably wouldn't be as enthusiastic to learn that you were a mom.

You'd only been on one date since you'd broken it off with your husband with your aunts accountant Jerry, and the date stuttered to a halt when he learned you had two children and weren't interested in having an open relationship.

"I wouldn't have guessed that."

“Really? The mountain of chocolate cupcakes wasn’t a clue?” You arch an eyebrow with a smirk, while gently tying off the string to close the first wound before moving on to the second.

“I thought you just really liked baking. And I’m okay with coming home every night to a mountain of chocolate cupcakes if it means you’re there too.” He winks.

“Not sure you want any of those.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because they’re gluten free, sugar free, and nut free.”

The horrified look on Russell’s face makes you feel like you’d just told him that hot dogs do in fact contain trace amounts of dog.

“Why on earth would you make them like that?! They're not even cupcakes anymore!" He exclaims.

You found it funny that he seemed more upset over the mutilation of the chocolate cupcakes than over being shot.

Maybe he's always like this?

"I know. I'm a monster." You sigh. "But Stephanie Jacobson said I had to." You let out a frustrated sigh with her name.

Bringing anything other than what she asked for was a suicide mission. The last person who did that was Gale Smith in the great Fourth of July Cook-out calamity of 2021. In Gale's defense, no one though that the bushes would catch fire so fast, but Stephanie had a memory like an elephant so Gale decided to transfer her children to the school one town over. The last thing you wanted was for your name to go down in history for the Cupcake Catastrophe of 2024.

Russell leans forward and lowers his voice like it's a secret. “Is Stephanie your imaginary friend?”

“No!” You laugh. “She’s this other mom at my son’s school who said I wasn’t living up to my ‘duties as a parent’ and that I needed to ‘participate.’”

"She sounds great."

"Oh yeah, we're practically best friends." You continue to work on the other wounds in the silence that follows.

"I bet you're a good mom." Russell says watching you with an unreadable expression. He's leaning a little bit towards you still, making the smell gunmetal, leather, spice, and just a hint of mint come through the space between the two of you.

Damn he smells really good.

"Uh-huh. You've known me for ten minutes and you haven't seen me with my children-"

"I can tell."

"Is that your superpower or something?" You reach for a bandage to lay over the wound in his chest smiling to yourself. "All the other useful superpowers like being bulletproof got taken?"

"I don't think it's useless if it makes you smile like that when I say it, sweetheart."

Your eyes flick upwards to Russell's face. His green eyes are shining in the light of your kitchen, his dark hair still hanging over his forehead, and he is still just as ridiculously handsome as he was the moment Colter dragged him through your front door. You don’t remember why you were so mad at Colter anymore.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're too smooth for your own good?" You raise your eyebrow.

"No ma'am." Russell cracks an even wider smile and it makes you loose all feeling in your legs. He was just so effortlessly handsome that it made you want to do something stupid, like have sex with him on top of the same kitchen table that you serve blueberry pancakes to your children.

"Hmm." You bite the inside of your cheek. "Well, now you know and maybe now that you're aware, it could prevent you from getting shot."

"Are you saying I got shot because I'm too smooth?"

"Maybe."

"Because usually it has a different effect."

"Huh. Well in that case, maybe try using some of that to smooth things over and you'd avoid getting shot." You begin to wrap another fresh bandage around the bullet wound on his arm, bracing your free hand against his chest, trying to ignore the way his skin is warm and chiseled beneath your palm.

He had the kind of body that you'd never imagined actually existed. Russell Shaw looked like he walked out one of the romance novels you loved so much.

Hell, they should use pictures of him to make the book covers.

"I'll remember that next time." Russell pauses. "But then it means I wouldn’t get shot and I wouldn't get to have you patch me up."

"I guess not."

You didn't think that you'd smiled as much as you had in the past twenty minutes with him than you had your entire five year marriage. Not to mention that it was nice to talk to someone who wasn't trying to convince you why they should be allowed to have a cookie before dinner.

A charged silence passes through the air between the two of you, his eyes locked on yours sending goosebumps over your skin. You weren't sure if anyone had ever looked at you like that before. You'd noticed that most gave you the obligatory skate over, but Russell didn't. He looked at you as if he was studying you as if he were genuinely curious to know more. 

Your eyes trace his broad shoulders, toned abdomen, and muscular arms, noting that he's the kind of strong and broad that was made to handle someone a little more curvy like you. And you'd be lying if you said that you hadn't thought about it more than once since Russell came through your front door.

You felt your mind sink into the fantasy of Russell pining you to the kitchen table and feeling the warmth of his rough hands against your body-

Snap out of it. The guy is bleeding, he got shot. He needs to rest.

"I think you'll survive." You smile pulling back from him to clear your head. It was much easier when you couldn't smell him as strongly. "And if Colter isn't going to be back for a few hours you can crash on the couch. It's not the most comfortable but-"

"I'm sure it's fine." Russell shrugs and stands from your kitchen table.

You try and fail to ignore how his muscles pull with the movement as he reaches for his shirt and you step forward to help him put it on, knowing that it might hurt with his injury. "Okay." You clear your throat, that has become thick all of a sudden. "And if you're hungry I've got plenty of cupcakes-"

"Please don't call them that. They're an disgrace to the cupcake name."

"Yeah, but the ones in the microwave are actually cupcakes. I had to make a few that were edible." You gesture with your hand and laugh at how quickly Russell goes to get one.

He doesn’t even bother to pull away the wrapping before he takes a bite and he audibly moans. Russell looks at you awestruck. "Holy shit, you made this? Where have you been all my life?"

"Shut up." You roll your eyes at him.

"I'm serious, this cupcake is my reason to keep living. Here I thought putting sriracha on French fries was the height of cuisine, but damn."

You could feel yourself blush bright red at his compliment. You weren't used to a man going out of his way to compliment you on something other than how you looked, but everything about Russell Shaw was refreshing and nothing like you expected.

"Thank you." You wait another second, watching him eat more of the cupcake and smash icing and flecks of chocolate over his chin. You laugh at him and hand him a paper towel. "You're worse than my three year old."

"Your three year old is a lucky kid, if she’s got a mom like you to make stuff like this for her."

It's like he wants me to fall in love with him. How can someone look so unbelievably cute and sexy while covered in chocolate cupcake?

Don't answer that.

"Sometimes I think I'm the lucky one. I love my kids-" You say before you can stop yourself. You hesitate afraid that it would send Russell for the hills when you brought up the fact that you loved your children.

"Yeah?" Russell's smile brightens as he wipes his face with the napkin.

"Yeah." You blink mildly shocked. Of all the people in the world to talk about your children with, you never expected someone like Russell Shaw. “I do."

Again he was surprising you, and talking to him was just so refreshing and it made you feel like your head had finally cleared, like your chest was lighter and you could actually talk to someone for real without putting out this together image of yourself you thought you had to when inside you were crumbling from the overbearing expectations of the people around you.

The silence is back, filling the kitchen with a palpable energy that you wonder if Russell can feel, but you shake it off.

"I guess I'll see you in the morning. It was nice to meet you Russell, but I'm sorry that you got shot." You smile.

"I'm not." Russell smiles. "I got to meet you."

"Alright Casanova, I need to go to bed, because my kids will wake me up in about two hours." You frown over at the couch. "There's a pillow and a blanket down the hall in the bathroom closet." You gesture with one hand. "I'll see you in the morning." You repeat because you're not too sure what to say.

"Yeah. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

You turn and walk up the stairs to your bedroom, feeling the thin blue robe swishing around your ankles as you do.

And as you fall into your bed all you can think about as you start to drift is the ruggedly handsome man downstairs, with the brilliant green eyes that crinkle with his smile, and the large hands rough from hard work, that seems to be more than what meets the eye.

The alarm clock on your bedside table might as well be employed by the devil for waking you up and the idea of smashing it to bits with the heavy metal table lamp that sits beside it crosses your mind. You weren't sure how many hours you'd gotten in, only that they weren't enough, and you were in desperate need of coffee.

You roll over on your back, looking up at your ceiling as you blink your eyes open, following the familiar sweeps of the paint brush that were left behind.

The memory of the night's events come back in full color and you stiffen remembering exactly why you'd gone to bed so late. Images of last night flash through your mind. Colter dragging a bloodied Russell through your front door, Russell sitting on your kitchen table looking much too attractive covered in blood, him flirting with you with a wide smile that made you feel warm from the inside out…

Oh fuck he's still on my couch. How am I going to explain that to my kids?

You dress in a flash and stumble down the stairs as quickly as you can, tripping and falling into the living room, but when you look you realize that Russell isn't on the couch. The pillow and brightly colored quilted blanket he used are neatly folded on one of the plush cushions, but he's nowhere to be found.

I guess Colter came to get him.

You weren't expecting the wave of disappointment that comes with that realization, but as you turn to go back up the stairs to ready yourself for the day, you hear your daughter’s voice.

"Mommy!" She says. "Look! Rus is making pancakes."

What?

You turn to investigate your spacious kitchen. It was still covered in an alarming amount of cupcakes, but that’s not what’s surprising, what’s surprising is Russell, standing at your crowded stove with a spatula in his hand, sliding a perfectly golden brown pancake around in the bottom of a pan.

You blink your eyes to make sure that you’re not imagining it and make sure that you’re not asleep.

"Hey gorgeous." Russell flashes a wide grin. "How'd you sleep?"

"Um-" You glance at where your daughter is sitting with your son, both eating stacks of pancakes at your kitchen table, the same kitchen table that you were fantasizing about Russell and you-

Nope. Not going there.

Honestly, any fantasy you had about him was blown away by the sight of him standing in your kitchen making pancakes for your children. Something so domestically wonderful that turned you on even more than the image of him shirtless sitting on your kitchen table.

This was something even your husband refused to do, cook. Any day that you tried to get him to, he'd said that it was your "job." And here Russell was standing in your kitchen looking even more effortlessly gorgeous cooking for your family without being asked.

"I sleep good. How did you sleep?" You ask taking a hesitant step towards him.

"Good. Better than I have in a bit actually." He turns back to the pan and flicks his wrist, flipping the pancake inside.

Emma claps happily and Luke watches Russell with a look of absolute awe on his face, while you try not to have impure thoughts about Russell in front of your children.

"You didn't have to make breakfast-"

"I did." He plates the pancake and holds it out to you. "I wanted to thank you for patching me up."

"It wasn't a big deal." You shrug, but take the pancake from the plate, rolling it up like a taco before you take a bite.

Russell cocks his head to the side studying you for a moment. "It was to me." His green eyes are just as hypnotic today as they were last night, tracing over your body in a way that makes pins and needles tickle over your skin. "Plus, wanted to make the kids something that wasn't gluten free, nut free, and sugar free. Emma sure can put away some pancakes."

It was odd to see someone so eager to make himself comfortable in your house, especially a man you barely knew and who you owed absolutely nothing to. Not to mention that Russell genuinely seemed happy to be making breakfast for your children as if he belonged there.

It was so different from every other man that you'd ever met, and you wanted to get used to it. You wanted to get used to having a man around again, to having Russell in your home and in your life. You'd never been spontaneous or wanted to jump headfirst without looking at the pros and cons, but watching Russell standing at your stove, with the sunlight coming through the windows behind him and illuminating his broad shoulders and sifting through his dark hair, you saw absolutely no downside.

"Yeah she's always had a good appetite."

"Hope she doesn't lose that. I hate it when women don't eat." Russell shrugs his shoulders and goes back to make a pancake for himself. "Plus Luke needs to bulk up. He said his dad is going to sign him up for baseball."

You stiffen at the mention of your ex, not sure if you should supply the information, or if you should let it slide. Russell's eyes flick down at your left hand for a half-second, so quickly you could have missed it, but you understood what he was doing.

"He's my ex-husband." You murmur low enough so only Russell could hear.

"Good." Russell replies with a knowing smirk. "Means that I don’t have any competition."

You roll your eyes at his reaction and walk over to where your children are eating. Luke is covered in maple syrup as per usual. He had always been a messy eater, but because he insisted on having his hair cropped short, it never seemed to be too much of a problem.

Just as Emma looks like your ex-husband, Lance, Luke looks like you. He has the same eyes and same colored hair, but he'd always been a little short for his age. Lance usually picked at him for that, but you didn't know what Lance was expecting, Luke was six years old, he'd grow!

"Good pancakes?" You ask, trying to wipe at his face with a napkin but he pulls away with an exclaimed "Mom!"

"What? You're covered in syrup." You laugh, raising the napkin again, but Luke dodges your hand.

"Mom!" Luke says again.

"Alright, fine. But go get dressed, your dad will be here to pick you up any minute." You say, urging him with a hand against his shoulder.

Today Lance was taking Luke to school and picking him up after for a baseball game, before staying with him at his apartment. You’d told your Aunt Teddi and your Aunt Velma that you'd help them plant a garden today, and Emma had been looking forward to it as much as you had.

Velma had been talking about it all through last week, and you’d gotten the day off specifically off for it. Emma was also excited about it because Teddi had bought flowers specifically for butterflies and your daughter loved them more than life itself.

You were looking forward to working out in the sun, feeling the healing rays against your skin, listening to the sounds of the world outside your aunts familiar home soothe you, play with the dogs for a little bit, and finally go inside for a few glasses of wine while Velma, Teddi, and you talked about the book of the month. Book club nights were especially special for Emma as well. Velma always poured Emma's apple juice into a plastic pink wine glass that she'd bought for Emma so she could feel included.

This book had been really good and you couldn't wait to share what you'd thought while eating expensive cheese and cupcakes and while the dogs circled below like raptors.

You loved being at their home. It was always such a comfort to be somewhere where you felt that you could be yourself especially after Lance left you. Your mother had died when you were a kid and your dad had never been equipped to handle things like that so your Aunt Teddi had picked up the slack in your early years and now after she'd married Velma, you had another person in your life who supported you and made you feel like you could be yourself. Both of them had been furious when they learned about what Lance had done and sat with you while you cried into a box of tissues.

It had been difficult to talk them both out of killing Lance. Surprising since your Aunt Teddi was usually the voice of reason.

Luke sighs, but listens to you, getting up from the table to make his way upstairs. You can hear his footsteps as he walks down the hallway above and into his room.

Despite his reluctance, he was looking forward to today as well. Sometimes you thought that he felt left out when you all went over to your aunts house. You knew that Luke longed for the attention of his father, and something broke inside of you each time your ex-husband made him feel forgotten.

You turn to look at your daughter. "Good pancakes?"

"Yes!"

"Did you tell Russell thank you?"

"Thank you Rus!" She sing-songs with a wide smile, before moving her plastic fork back into the pile enthusiastically.

"You're welcome sweetheart." Russell says from the stove, picking up the pancake in the skillet bare handed before he puts a generous stripe of maple syrup along the inside and rolls it up just like you did. "Do you want another one?" His gaze turns to you, warm and open.

Fuck, why is he so damn attractive?

"No I'm-"

The knock on the front door interupts your answer signifying the arrival of Lance. When he'd moved out of the house you'd changed all the locks and then refused to give him a key. Something that he'd pouted and stomped about worse than your toddler, but you'd held firm. You didn't want him in your house and you definitely didn't want her in your house either.

"Daddy!" Emma squeals and before you can stop her, she leaps from her chair like she'd been shot from a cannon and runs down the front hallway to open the door for your ex.

You sigh out a breath to prepare yourself for what comes next. Talking to Lance was always tense and as much as you tried to be civil, Lance didn't. He didn't pull punches, and often lacked the common decency that everyone else had.

Russell's studying you again, his easy smile slipping into a frown when he notes the change in your attitude.

"Stay here. This shouldn't take long." You force a smile, but it lacks the enthusiasm you’d had whenever you talked to Russell before.

Sometimes just the thought of your ex took the energy out of you, as if you were on a space ship and all the air got sucked out into the cold silent vacuum.

Lance is standing on the front step hugging your daughter with one hand while the other holds his phone behind her head, his gaze intently on the screen while Emma chatters in his ear. He's not paying attention though. He never was and never did.

His black hair is slicked back over his head and cropped shorter than the last time you saw him. Now it barely touches his collar but hangs long over the top of his head. His brown eyes glint an amber in the light of the sun, and he’s wearing a tailored blue suit with a dark patterned tie.

“Hey.” Lance clips to you as he stands, releasing Emma who is still trying to talk to him, but he ignores her.

You grind your teeth together. “Hi.”

He sighs audibly sensing the tension, as if it’s you that’s done something wrong.

“Emma, why don’t you go finish your pancakes?” You smile down at your daughter and pat her on the head. “We’ve got to go soon.”

“Okay! Bye daddy!”

“That’s nice honey.” He says absentmindedly, still typing furiously on his phone, while Emma rushes back down the hallway and into the kitchen, that is hidden from view of the front door.

“You know you could put the phone down for once. The world won’t implode if you wait a few seconds to answer a text.” You say.

“Don’t start.” Lance rolls his eyes.

The BMW idling at the curb catches in the early morning sunlight and you see a flash of red-hair. Crystal is in the passenger seat, her auburn hair piled on top of her head effortlessly, her lips painted a dark colored red, there’s a pair of heart shaped sunglasses over her eyes, and she’s wearing black dress low cut enough that her ample breasts spill out through the wide V.

She peers at you from where she sits in the car, her phone perched in her lap, and you watch her dark colored lips twitch into a knowing smirk when she catches you looking at her.

Each time you saw her was like taking a punch to the gut.  It made you pull your oversized sweater a little tighter over your chest self-consciously.

“I’m not starting anything. I’m just saying that you should pay more attention to-“ You begin, but Lance interrupts.

“I don’t want to do this with you. I have a deposition due today and I have to finish sending this email.” He snaps.

“Fine.” You sigh, trying to remain calm. You hated when he did this, when he made it seem like no one and nothing else was important except his job. “Luke is getting ready. I have to box up these cupcakes for a bake sale at the school. All you have to do is drop them off and tell-“

“Oh sorry babe. Can’t do the thing today.”

You bristled when he called you babe. You weren't his, not after everything the two of you had been through.

“What do you mean you can’t do the ‘thing’ today?” You plant your hands on your hips trying to comprehend what he's saying.

“With the kid. Sorry. Crystal made plans for us at some fancy restaurant or whatever. Supposed to be the best in the city-“

“What?”

“I can’t take the kid today.” He repeats slowly, this time looking up, but he doesn’t bother to apologize, and his gaze barely meets yours before he drops his eyes back to the hand clutched in his perfectly manicured fingers.

“But you promised Luke that you were going to take him to a baseball game today after school. That he was going to get to spend the night with you and-“

“Sorry.��� The apology isn’t sincere and you know it, despite Lance’s attempts to drop his smile into a sympathetic frown. It comes across as more condescending.

Crystal honks the horn of the car as if to tell Lance to hurry up, and it takes a very large amount of effort for you not to flip her the bird.

“No. Luke has been looking forward to this all week! Not to mention I had to ask off for today specifically-“

“And I’ll apologize to him too.” Lance goes back to typing something on his phone. “This dinner means a lot to Crystal-“

“I don’t give two shits what means a lot to that red-haired bimbo!” You snap, the rage and frustration building in your chest. “You made a promise to your son to take him to a baseball game and actually spend time with him and that’s exactly what you’re going to do!”

Lance looks up from his phone, his eyes narrowing. “You always fucking do this.”

“Do what?”

“Pick a fight.”

“I am not picking a fight Lance. All you’ve done since you’ve shown up here is ignore your daughter and tell me that you’re backing out of the one thing I’ve asked you to do in months!”

“I told you that I have a meeting and a deposition due today! Damn it, what do you want from me? To quit my big job that pays for this house?” He steps forward towering over you. Lance was taller than you, but he had always been lanky and thin, unable to gain too much weight or muscle at a time. “Why do you find the need to make me feel like my life isn’t important?”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t say anything about your life! I’m talking about our son’s life-“ You shout incredulous.

“This is exactly why I got out when I did. Because you always try to control every little thing. You’re so damn OCD that if I did one microscopic thing that wasn’t apart of your ‘special plans’ you’d spontaneously combust! You never just shut your big mouth and let me just fucking live my life! You never let me feel like a man! And Crystal understands-“

“Crystal can’t even understand that pickles were once cucumbers! I doubt she can understand whatever warped reality you’re living in Lance.” You spit. “But I’m sorry that me asking you to be a part of our children’s lives is too much for you. That it’s such a chore for you to make them happy.” The frustrated tears had begun to burn against your eyes.

You didn’t know why you expected anything different. Lance had been doing this since your son was born, putting his career above everything else, working late, schmoozing whoever he could, being so damn selfish that he was willing to throw everything the two of you built together for the woman sitting in the car on the curb watching the two of you go at it with a sick satisfaction.

“Don’t fucking do that!” Lance roars and this time he slams his hand against the door frame so roughly that the glass inside shakes and you flinch. “I don’t know why I even try to talk to you. So why don’t you get your big ass up those stairs and-“

“Is there a problem?” Russell’s voice interrupts whatever Lance was going to say, his body sliding into the space behind you so suddenly that you didn’t hear him walk up.

But it felt good for him to be there, to feel the warmth of his body through the air at your back.

He places his hand on the door to open it up a little wider and to seem a bit more intimidating. Russell is easily taller and broader than Lance.

Lance looks up at him confused, puffing out his chest to look more intimidating. “Who the fuck are you?”

 “Maybe you shouldn’t use that kind of language around the kids-“ Russell says with a tight lipped smile.

“They’re my fucking kids. Don’t tell me how to talk.” Lance’s gaze flicks to you. “Who the fuck is this?”

“I’m Russell.” He replies before you can. “And if you know what’s good for you I’d take a few steps back from her.” Russell’s large hand gently presses against your waist, a comforting weight that you weren’t expecting, but welcome, nonetheless.

It made you feel a little bit bolder.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Lance snarls. “Is this your boyfriend? Really? You finally decided to go out with someone and that’s who you pick?”

“Look buddy, if you keep talking to her that way, we’re going to have a problem.” Russell sighs. “And I don’t want to get any blood on your fancy suit.”

“I’m not your buddy. And trust me she’s not worth the fight.” Lance sneers at you, giving you a once over that makes you want to crawl into a hole and die.

Russell’s jaw clenches tight and he takes a step forward, but you hold out your arm to stop him.

“He’s not my boyfriend and even if he was, it’s none of your business who I date!” You snap back.

Lance only shakes his head, ignoring what you’ve said. “I’m serious pal you don’t want to get involved with her. She’s fucking crazy, not to mention nothing special when it comes to se-“

The next words are lost in the sound of Russell’s fist landing against Lance’s face, the sharp crack followed by the inhuman scream of Crystal at the car. Lance stumbles back off the front step clutching a hand to his face while blood streams through his pinched fingers and over his chin.

“I warned you. Now if you keep talking, I'll make your eyes match.” Russell growls, flexing his hand.

I hope he didn’t rip his stitches.

“You son of a bitch.” Lance sputters, his hand still holding his broken nose. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer!”

“It’s worth it, if it shuts you up.” He replies unfazed.

Lance’s eyes narrow with hate as he looks at you one more time, before stumbling back to his car where Crystal has begun to wail over the amount of blood coming from his nose. The car squeals down the street and out of sight, leaving Russell and you standing on your front porch. Thankfully Emma was still in the kitchen eating her pancakes and Luke was upstairs, you didn't want either of them to see Russell punch their dad.

But that didn't mean that you wouldn't mind seeing it again.

You groaned when you thought about your son. You didn’t know how on earth you were going to explain to him why his dad wasn’t going to pick him up or take him to the game.

But at the same time there was a sickening amount of pleasure that bubbled beneath the surface at the thought of Russell breaking Lance’s nose.

“Are you okay?” Russell asks turning to look at you. There’s anger still simmering beneath the surface. You’d never seen him angry in all the time he’d stayed with you. All you’d seen was the funny, easy going, guy with the gorgeous smile, but to see him like this and especially to see him angry over what had just happened…

Just when I thought he couldn’t get any more attractive.

“Yeah. I’m sorry-“

“Don’t apologize for that asshole. He shouldn’t have talked to you like that.” Russell hesitates. “Does he always talk to you like that?”

“Pretty much.”

“Damn, should have knocked a few teeth out too. He’s got to learn how to speak to a lady, especially one as beautiful as you.”

You felt your cheeks flush. You couldn’t remember the last time that someone called you beautiful and before you can stop yourself you say:

“I don’t think you’re too bad looking yourself.”

“Oh I know. You couldn’t keep your hands off me last night.” Russell’s grin makes you smile and roll your eyes at him.

Again you’re struck by how charming he is and how kind. He didn’t have to do any of the things he’d done today, but he did anyway. He didn’t have to make breakfast for your children, he didn’t have to step in when your ex-husband got mouthy, and he didn’t have to punch Lance in the face, but Russell had.

He'd done more for you in the past few hours than your husband had done in the six years you'd been married to him.

Behind where Russell's standing, Colter’s truck pulls up to idle on the curb in the same place that the BMW had been sitting moments ago, and you raise a hand in a half-wave to greet him. Colter shoots you a grin and waves back.

“Guess my ride’s here.” Russell says glancing back at his brother over his shoulder before he looks back at you.

“Seems so.” You nod. “Are you sure you don’t want me to check your stitches for you one more time before you go? I mean you probably ripped them when you punched Lance."

“Sounds like you just want to catch another peak of me without my shirt on.” Russell laughs, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes and hit him on the arm.

“Ow.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Maybe.” He’s studying you again, the sunlight turning his hair a honeyed brown and his eyes into a sharp jade. The light catches his broad shoulders and traces along his strong jaw that is covered in a healthy amount of stubble that makes him look rugged and more handsome than any man you’d ever met.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “It was nice to meet you Russell. And again, I'm sorry that you got shot."

Russell shrugs. “It was worth it. I got to meet you and I got to punch that asshole in the face so win-win.”

“You didn’t have to-“

“Yes, I did.” Russell’s jaw tightens. “You didn’t deserve any of the things he was saying about you or about the kids.”

“True.” You hesitate.

Should I ask him for his number or is that too forward?

“I’ll see you around.” Russell smiles at you one more time before making his way to his brother’s car, just as Emma joins you on the front step.

“Did daddy leave?” She sounds sad.

“Yeah. He did.” You take her small hand in yours.

“But why does Russell have to go too?” She whines.

“Because he’s going home.”

You felt a twinge in your chest watching him get into the car, knowing that you probably would never see him ever again. It made you sad to know that. You'd been interested in him and you thought he was interested in you, but he hadn't asked for your number.

Maybe he's flirty and charming with everyone.

You hide the frown that comes with that thought. Emma waves goodbye with her freehand, and Russell smiles from the passenger seat, waving back at your daughter, before he raises his gaze to yours again and winks.

Or maybe not.

When you go back inside the house, Luke is still upstairs, and instead of going up to tell him about his father, you turn to go back into your kitchen to clean up. As you near the stove, you notice a bright green piece of paper under one of the magnets on your refrigerator, fluttering slightly in the air-conditioning.

You pull it down to look.

In case you want some more pancakes or if you bake any more of those life changing cupcakes. Give me a call. -Russell.

His phone number was written under his name, next to a smiley face that made you laugh aloud to yourself.

Sunday nights were the worst, but not this time.

A/N: Alright, I had so much fun with this one! I just had this urge to write Russell with a reader who had children and a trash man ex because why not? And I know I said it would be a one-shot… but my mind is already thinking of all the possibilities lol. Mostly because we all know I can’t really write just a one-shot 😅😂

As always thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, Likes, and Comments are not required but are always appreciated. I love hearing what y’all think!

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester

[lookingformoondrop]

could i request a boyfriend!andrew graves x reader headcannons or scenarios? i LOVE TCOAAL🫶🫶

Boyfriend! Andrew Graves x Reader - Headcanons

TW: Andy has a foul mouth, reader gets groped, Andy is a little possessive, a tiny bit of violence (-is always the answer)

♥︎Notes: I'm kind of an idiot so if you notice something is spelled incorrectly, feel free to send me a dm so i can fix it (totally not at all referring to my first Yandere!Andy x Reader post where I spelled dark as darmfk ;-;). Also this is kind of short because so many people requested for Andy x Reader, so I didn't want to pull out all the stops. I hope this meets your expectations <3.♥︎

The first thing you gotta to know about dating Andy, is that he's very touch starved.

I can just headcanon that due to his aloof personality and very broody behavior, he doesn't get many hugs...

So when you enter his life, best believe that Andy shows you this completely different side of him!

I'm talking.... Cuddling in the mornings till the point where you're almost late for work because he refuses to let you go.

I'm talking.... Andy being able to sense when you're about to go into the shower. His spidey-senses tingles, and the moment you're about to hop in, he's right there already getting his hair wet.

I'm talking.... Trapping you with his kisses when you're making food, definitely not noticing that he's causing you to burn dinner.

And no amount of protest can deter this man either.

Speaking of making food... Andrew is the master-chef of the house!

Now he's no Gorden Ramsey (as he likes to tell you whenever he makes you a sandwich), but everyone knows that one bite of his food is enough to make a sailor come back to the land.

So it's very nifty when you're sick and at home, in need to have someone take care of you.

The first time you ever got sick was when you and Andy were still living separately.

It was a Friday night, and it was supposed to be your 1-year anniversary with Andy. Unfortunately, due to some unhygienic biotch at the office, you caught a cold and had to cancel.

At first Andy didn't respond, instead leaving you on read. You felt bad, figuring that he was mad at you for canceling.

But lo' and behold, exactly 10 minutes later, that was a frantic sound of keys jiggling into the your front door.

You had gotten up from your couch-potato position to see the person who wanted to rush into your home so badly, when it occurred to you;

Andrew is the only one with another set of keys...

And with that realization, Andy burst through the door with a pharmacy store bag in one hand, and a grocery store bag in another.

In an instant, Andy made you take a disgusting amount of cold medicine, and blessed your cold home with the warmth and smell of spices and herbs (likely all from the soup).

When the food was ready, he sat you up with a pillow and hand-fed you soup for the rest of the night. You felt so bad for ruining your anniversary, but everytime you tried to apologize for it, Andrew would stuff your mouth with more soup and would say;

"I don't care about that romance and anniversary shit. We don't need to go to a fancy restaurant or an expensive place just to feel like we're honoring an important date. That date is important because it is our date. We don't need to one-up that memorable time just to remind everyone of how special it is... Y/N, you're crying into the soup."

Needless to say, you cried.

But Andrew doesn't just take care of you...You best believe he also protects.

Well, sorta.

You could be in a grocery store, at a Boba shop, in the mall, getting new shoes, it wouldn't matter, Andrew would always have his hand on your waist.

Be it because he saw someone look at you, doesn't matter who or how old they are, he'll always wrap his arms around you and whisper ever so softly, "You're mine..."

It has definitely given you some weird looks over the years, but you know he means well.

And if anyone ever actually looks at you funny? It's over for them.

Andrew will make it VERY clear that you're not to be messed with.

For example, a couple of months into your relationship, you were riding the train. Enjoying a simple conversation about suspicious neighbors and whatnot, when all of the sudden some guy came up behind you and tried groping you discreetly.

Andy noticed very quickly that all the blood drained from your face. He looked behind you and noticed the old geezer trying to get a hand full of someone way younger than them, and Andrew could feel every restraint in his body snap.

In an act of "self-defense" as told to the cops later on, Andrew punched the living daylights of the guy and sent him flying into a pole.

You fussed over Andy's fist for awhile, completely forgetting about how you felt. But the only thing Andy could think about was how he should've hit that guy harder.

When you guys were finally walking home, hand in hand, you leaned on Andrew.

"I'm sorry about today Andy... I didn't mean for you to get all banged up."

Andrew snorted, "My knuckle is a little scratched up, so what? That perverted asshole had it coming for him."

You kissed Andy's cheek, which granted you a dark blush from Andy, and a grin from you.

"Thank you Aaandy~" You brushed his hand with your thumb,

Being in a relationship with Andy is a little messy, and yes sometimes a little crazy. But no matter what happens, Andy will always stick by your side.

"You're welcome, sweetheart." Andy squeezed your hand in return.

Thank you for the ask<3

[lemonade4wanda]

Shopping date

Dark! Wanda Maximoff x reader

Minors dni!! Masterlist°•☆

Summary- how could you be so silly as to lose your cards?

Warnings- manipulation, dark! Wanda, obsessive Wanda, unhealthy obsession, potential Stockholm syndrome?, not proofread!!, coercion, gaslighted, darkthemes, I'd say some parts contain a little fluff

Wordcount - 1.8k

A/n-this is my first side part for craving you!!! This has little link to main series so can be read separately if you want but I would recommend reading all of it!! Inspired by a comment by @mrsmothermaximoff

You'd been meaning to pay Wanda back for something, anything really. Despite how casual she acted about you just living with her rent free and essentially doing nothing of any great contribution all day you still felt this nagging shameful feeling that tugged at your chest everyday, everytime she paid for you at a restaurant, bought you something she thought looked cute or let you borrow her clothes when yours seemed to go missing.

You felt awful.

Watching her pay for you and provide for you. Your whole life you'd never relied on anyone for anything. Never felt like you'd owed anyone anything. Rarely ever been in any kind of debt but now you owed Wanda everything. But she was so unwilling to ever let you pay her back, always insisting things were no trouble for her, of course they weren't have you seen that woman's paycheck? Telling you to save your money for better things. Making sure you never had to lift a finger for anything you desired.

This was different though. When you first moved in you'd practically begged Wanda to let you atleast pay for groceries and how she couldn't resist how you looked when you begged. So reluctantly, and with a backup plan, she agreed to let you do the weekly grocery shop and pay with your own money. Which for some stupid reason you'd been very responsible with and had a large amount in savings which could easily buy the two of you groceries for a few years.

Wanda did not want to wait a few years for you to come to the end of the money you had saved before gaining a little more power over you. She wanted it now. And Wanda gets what Wanda wants even when she has to play dirty, which she did often.

A rough plan she had concocted the day you'd practically forced her to let you pay for things was to get rid of your debit card in some way. It couldn't be too obvious but she still had to be your Knight in shining armour and save the day for you when you couldn't pay. She couldn't bare the thought of you embarrassedly leaving the shops after not having a way to pay, no she didn't want that for you. She wanted to swoop in and offer to pay.

Around two months maybe three had passed since you started buying groceries. You'd made a set schedule of it by now, you went Friday mornings around 10:30am when the shops were quiet so you could buy your groceries in peace without worrying about running over someone's child with your trolley. Occasionally Wanda came with you but not all that often. You assumed as ceo of her own company she'd have better things to do than go round the supermarket and also partly that she wasn't interested by it, that she didn't actually ever care what you bought as long as you liked it.

Wanda awoke early this particular Friday about 5:00am sharp and was careful as she got off the bed not to wake you, though she doubted she would, you were the heaviest sleeper she'd ever met. It was lucky she was looking out for you then, without her God knows what could happen to you while you were asleep. Before leaving the room she took a quick picture of your sleeping body, head firmly in the pillow and legs wrapped around the duvet half in and half out of it. How cute. She thought as she left gazing at the picture.

Once downstairs she located your handbag, a stylish one she'd gifted you when you worked in the office. Wanda took note of how tatty it was now. Scuffed and marked up. Definitely time to get you a new bag, she can't have her darling going out looking rough. Your bag was always fairly empty so she had no trouble finding your purse in it. Upon opening the purse Wanda took out any large bills and both your debit and credit card from within before closing up your purse and placing your bag back where it was originally sat.

Now the money was easy. Crisp paper bills burnt quickly in her ornate fireplace and brought warmth to the somewhat cold living room, you'd appreciate this warmth when you eventually woke up. Wanda knew this after all she knew everything about you.

The cards were a little tricker that the notes but nothing she couldn't handle as she quickly had another idea. Cutting up your card into tiny minced up indistinguishable pieces and then tossing them in a bin outside that you'd never look in. Wanda was left feeling... proud of her work. She felt like this was well a complished and you'd never be any the wiser. Not that you'd ever dream of accusing Wanda anyway, she was your saviour after all. Your were too clueless to ever once look past her charismatic facade. Too stupid, naive, gullible, dumb.

You woke up to an empty and cold bed a few hours later. Waking up alone always made you feel so awful but you could never guess why. It's not like you and Wanda were dating.. we're you? You brushed the thoughts away, she's just being kind she'd never think of someone like you like that, you tell yourself as you stretch and make the bed.

Later in the morning, you and Wanda were both being chauffeured to the supermarket. Whenever Wanda wasn't around to drive you or couldn't be bothered to drive she'd have you driven around by a private chauffeur who you knew little about. When you asked Wanda she only gave you vague answers saying the chauffeur called herself N and that was all you needed to know apparently.When you drove with N the car was always ominously quiet Wanda occasionally speaking in what felt like code to her and occasionally asking simple questions about how you felt.

Thankfully the supermarket was only a couple of miles away so the drive was over quicker than most.

When Wanda went shopping with you it was quite a different experience to shopping alone. She'd walk ahead of you almost protectively into the supermarket and then would make sure the entire trip round she was by your side at all times, leaving no room for you to sidle off or get lost. Despite what could be described as a dominant presence she never stopped you putting whatever you wanted in the trolley. If you believe the two of you needed that much dry spaghetti or fizzy sodas who was she to argue. I mean it was your money so she reasoned to have little to no input even if she despised some things you added to the trolley. She'd only really comment if you were going to hit something with your trolley, you were lucky you had someone to look out for your clumsiness, or if she also liked something you were putting in the trolley. Other than that she engaged in simple talk with you, she found your small world of excitements and thoughts cute. After all she had curated that small world.

Today was no different. If something was off, which it was. You'd be none the wiser as Wanda kept exactly to her act as she always did. Talking to you about favourite crisp flavours, laughing at your rant about creepy food mascots and helping you guide the trolley. Going round the shops together you felt some sense of domestic bliss even of you kept telling yourself you weren't dating Wanda it definitely felt that way and looked that way. The way her hand would occasionally glide across your back. Her lingering gazes. To anyone not so oblivious they would have thought you two had been dating for months.

Getting to the checkouts you placed your items in your own specific order on the conveyer belt. Wanda deciding to help out with the heavier things, she didn't want you to strain yourself for no reason. All was normal as it would be.

"Cash or card?" You were awoken from your daze of frantically bagging when the cashier spoke suddenly. Opening your purse it felt a little lighter than it should do usually.

"Cash." You responded while looking down into your purse. There was no cash. But you were so sure you'd taken cash out last week at the bank. Still the empty purse stared back.

"You alright darling?" Wanda's voice broke the panic building in you as you looked up at her calm smile while feeling instantly reassured. You nodded in response, a small but firm smile planted on your face as you spoke again.

"Uh.. can I pay card actually." The cashier smiled and nodded before pulling out a card machine. You sifted throught many a gift and reward card sitting in your purse many times awkwardly as a queue began to form before realising your cards weren't there. Your cards were gone. Gone. And you were none the wiser to where.

Your breathing began to pick up as you made eye contact with impatient customers behind as your braced yourself to have to put everything back. "I-..uh- I."

Wanda had been watching your small meltdown confidently until she heard your voice break. The moment she knew it was her time to save you, again.

"Don't worry I've got it." Before you could object she'd swiped her card across the scanner and begun picking up the bags for you and leading your slightly shaking figure away from the tills.

"Come on sweetie. What was going on back there?" She murmured in a tone so sweet you could've got diabetes. Before she could continue speaking you wrapped yourself around her arm. As if it was ab instinct more than a choice. "Oh.. it's okay darling we all make mistakes. I'm sure you'll find your money. You probably just misplaced it. Your such a klutz sometimes detka." You just dumbly nodded as she pulled you into the back of the car staying completely wrapped around her the whole way home, still shaken from the store.

Your cards and cash never did show up and at somepoint you gave up looking. It was clear for whatever reason they were gone and you weren't going to find them. Wanda gave you her card to keep buying the groceries on.. for now, I mean we can't have some klutz who loses her own money handling the ceos cards and shopping.. it'd be better if you stayed home. But Wanda wouldn't push it on you all at once, she knew you needed time yo adjust to using her money all the time. To being reliant on someone. To being reliant on her.

Taglist: @stayevildarling @reginassweetheart @alexawynters @your-my-mission @witchmaximoff @imjustvibingsworld @mrsmothermaximoff

[risuola]

DON'T HOLD BACK — F. READER x GETO SUGURU, who'’s as sweet as he's mean to you

If anyone got to know Suguru Geto, they would say that he's really nice guy, very kind and soft spoken, and they wouldn't be exactly wrong, but it seemed like you were the only person in the world that knows that Suguru, your tattoo artist boyfriend, is a meanie.

cw: smut, no-curse au, size difference, spanking, hair pulling, cunningulus, slight description of pain (tattoo related), so many pet names, Geto has tattoos and piercings (yup, that's a warning), there's an appearance od Satoru at the end, reader discretion is advised — 7,9k words

masterlist

If anyone would ask you few days ago what will you be doing on friday at 21:38pm, you’d probably respond with a large dose of confidence, that you’ll be resting in your bed. Maybe catching up on your favorite anime because you had no time to watch the newest episode during the week. You’d be lying comfortably, sipping on your favorite, fruity tea and if you’d feel fancy enough, maybe you’d even order yourself a pizza. That’s what you’d assume you’ll be doing late on friday, it sounded reasonable and reasonable is what you liked to call yourself.

Making spontaneous decisions is not a trait you’d give to your personality. You were always the one to think at least twice, usually more like seven times, before you commit to something, especially when it came to serious things such as body modifications or a choice of college. You were an overthinker, a helpless one to be exact, but that got you through life somewhat safely up until the point of reaching the sophomore year at uni. Your grades were fairly good, you had a little circle of people that were close to your heart, and you couldn’t think of many that you’d actually call your enemies. Being called a bore by your best friend was just a side effect of your usually cold and calculated thought process, but it never bothered you.

That was just who you were – a helpless overthinker – so it’s only natural, that you couldn’t find an answer reasonable enough to explain why on earth, on late friday evening, while the clock was slowly but surely heading towards 10pm, you were standing in front of the deep purple, slightly flickering neon sign that read Curseive.

A clever concoction of something so dark and mysterious as a curse and the intricate art of lines and shapes that the font cursive is all about – it hung up high above the entrance, written in a way that mirrored the conflicting feelings and somehow making it work. It was a tattoo salon, a relatively new one in your area, but it already had many good reviews online – or at least that’s what you assumed while doing the quickest research of your life. If scrolling through the messages left by customers for at most thirty seconds could be even called research. Why were you here? You had no clue, but you pushed the doors open and there was that little version of you sitting on your shoulder that wished you’ll just get asked out, because the salon was closing in about 20 minutes, but you decided to ignore the frail voice in your head and move forward.

When you stepped inside, it was empty in the lobby where the little sofa was situated for those who are waiting and a desk that was probably a reception. Dark walls around you were adorned by paintings that on the first glance looked to you like were handmade. Quickly you found yourself lost in the soft sound of buzzing that mixed with the quiet rock music playing somewhere in the background, as you began examining the artworks around you. One of the walls was made into a gallery of sorts, with the photographs of finished tattoos and printed patterns displayed in an array, supplemented with little descriptive notes and sometimes comments, that you assumed were left by clients. All of them were breathtaking and although you couldn’t see yourself rocking most of those heavy inks on your own skin, you were more than happy to appreciate and analyze. The precision of lines, the shading, the colors and composition – all of those tickled your artistic soul in ways not many things could and maybe it was the aesthete in you who stopped you from decorating your own body until this point, because fact is – you thought about getting a tattoo many times before. You really did and even had a pattern you really wanted, but it just scared the shit out of you to think someone could butcher it up and charge you for the mess. So, you never made an appointment. Until now. Now you were determined to do so.

You took one deeper breath, as if encouraging your own self to speak up and make your presence inside more obvious. The subtle scent of antiseptics and inks filled in your lungs as you inhaled, but instead of giving you more courage, you became more nervous. It’s just an appointment, you thought to yourself, you can always call later and say you have to call it off. Yeah, that sounded like a plan in your head and with that plan, your legs automatically moved towards the exit, despite what you wished to do.

“Running away, princess?”

That voice. You couldn’t mistake it for anyone else, you knew the soft, tender tone that even laced with malice sounded so pleasurable to the ear. You knew the owner, although not that close, but you met him many times – not one of them being all that nice. It was Suguru Geto, one of the biggest heartthrobs in your college. He rocked a disposable, black surgical mask that was pulled down under his chin and a pair of black gloves that he was in the process of taking off. Silver earrings glistened in the dim light of the salon, just as his rings were when he finally dealt with the hand protection. Your eyes glazed over the metallic accessories he had on – that also tickled something inside of you, triggering an unknown fantasy of having those long, ringed fingers of him deep in your… Suguru had nice hands.

“I’m not running away,” you told him, hoping that your voice was as firm as you intended it to be. Spoiler alert, it wasn't.

“No? Looked like it.” He chuckled, throwing the latex to the designated trash. His tone was taunting, you felt so small under the weight of his golden gaze. “Are you lost, little girl? You don’t exactly fit in that place now, do you?”

“You’re working here?” The question slipped through your mouth as if it wasn’t completely obvious from the very fact that he was here, alone, equipped in safety gloves and a mask, so near the closing time.

“Do I work here?” He took a look around himself, taking the mask off his ears and throwing it away before once again looking at you. “It’s kinda my place, so yeah, you could say so.”

That actually made sense the more you thought about it. Suguru was your senior, he was two years older and now finishing college. You had some of the faculties joint with his year and you were always the one to sit beside him – by the orders of the teacher, not by your own choice, although sitting next to him wasn’t that bad usually. You can clearly remember that during every lecture, he was doodling something on the screen of his ipad – something that you never really paid attention to because for your own good, you decided that staying away from the so-called frat boys was the best you could do. All this time, he probably was designing tattoo patterns.

“Right, so-“

“I assume, if you’re here that means you’d like to have something inked, is that correct?”

“Y-yeah, but, uh-“

“Are you 100% about it or did you come here to stutter?” You couldn’t tell if he was genuinely curious about your decisions or just mocking your nervousness, but either way, you felt it in ways you probably shouldn’t. This man had some power in his demeanor, and when he leaned over the counter, propping himself on the elbows and looking at you like a predator would glance at his pray, you felt small.

Suguru wasn’t the typical fuckboy, although he for sure was a magnet for the ladies, thanks to his absolutely stunning visual. That, you couldn’t deny – he was just gorgeous, with his sharp features that somehow still looked soft and inviting, the golden irises of his eyes that never faltered from eye contact, manly jawline and long, luscious locks of black hair that he often tied in a low bun. You never seen him in anything that wasn’t grey or black – white when it really was an odd day – but other than that, he was dressing in monochrome and you truly couldn’t blame him. He was a type to make the most boring sweats set look like the sexiest outfit on earth with just the fact that it was him who wore it. Yeah, he was gorgeous, you had to give him that, or rather blame him for that, because his apparition was for sure going to be the beginning to your end. Speaking dramatically, of course.

“I’m sure.” You forced out, mentally kicking yourself for being caught off guard just because it was him. You were never that taken aback near him, but you were also never alone with him. It was easier to stay indifferent when there were people around, when all of his focus wasn’t targeted at you and when that gorgeous pair of eyes wasn’t gazing straight into your soul. You felt like he could read your thoughts just by looking at you.

“Cool. So, let me close and you’d tell me what’s your vision.”

Suguru found your presence in his studio amusing. He’s seen you at uni, you were quite known in his circle of friends that unofficially were called the frat boys, even though your college didn’t really have this kind of organization. It’s due to your friendship with the cheerleader’s leader, but thing is – although you’re close with most of the fun girls, you were most definitely no fun whatsoever and for some reason, Geto found it interesting. And the fact you never faltered to speak up for yourself… How he’d wish to fuck the attitude out of you. He himself wasn’t exactly the type to party until blackout, drink until sunrise or have a checklist for girls to screw at the college. He had no wish to cross any names off of any list. Aware of his good looks, he used them to their limits to make his way through studies smoother and there were not many things that he couldn’t achieve if he tried hard enough. Even the principal of his faculty had a soft spot for him, so many things he was able to get away with. That being said, if he really wanted to have a girl, unless she was really hooked in someone else, he would probably face no issues of getting her. That’s what he thought, until you came to picture. Considering every charm and trick he had up his sleeve, he was almost certain that getting you wouldn’t be so easy for him, or for any of his friends. And now you were here, in his shrine, trying to sound confident when you most certainly weren’t. Adorable.

You watched him pulling down the shades in the windows and turning keys in the lock, effectively closing you both inside the studio and in a matter of few minutes, you were situated with him on the couch, sitting quite snug as you scrolled through your phone to find the picture of your little drawing. It took everything from you not to melt into his side. The way he smelled was intoxicating, a mixture of cedar wood, pepper and some kind of citrus – a tangerine if you were to guess. And the warmth of his body was so inviting. Before being so close to him, you didn’t even notice how cold you were – apparently your shorts and a sweatshirt weren’t good enough for the October evening, even though during the day it still was way too warm for the fall attire.

Geto waited patiently for you to find the picture you just told him about. The sketch you did that was meant to present him the idea of what you wanted to have tattooed onto your skin and as you were scrolling through your gallery, he took this time to take you in. He noticed that you have a really nice profile. Your lips were pouty, just slightly pushed forward and so kissable right now, as you were focused on the display in front of your face. Your hair looked good also and he couldn’t deny the fact that you looked like you’d perfectly fit into his arms. And on his dick. You were way smaller than him, but that wasn’t unusual – he was a fucking giant, but something in your frame made you appear like you’d slip into his embrace just right and that thought make him go crazy. It’s been quite some time since he found a girl so captivating.

“Here, I found it,” you informed, showing him the screen, and he placed his hand over yours, slightly shifting the device so he can see it better. A hum left his mouth as he analyzed the drawing you did. It showed two betta fishes, one black and one white, positioned in circle, as if they were chasing each other’s tails. The pattern was intricate – the fins were ruffled and detailed, scales bearing a little bit of shading and yet, the whole image was quite a simple one. It also reminded him a little about the yin and yang symbol. He liked the idea, it worked well with his perception of you and what surprised him was the fact that he as well had a little tandem of bettas tattooed on his body and there was no way you’d know that.

“And where would that be?”

“I thought on the sternum maybe?”

“Oh, that’s going to hurt like hell, princess,” Suguru chuckled, already opening the new canvas on his tablet. “How are you with pain?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ll be good,” you accentuated the words with a nod at the end and leaned in a little bit to see what he began to draw. The pencil slid over the grey colored screen with skill that stunned you. Just from memory and the little reference you had in your hand, he quite quickly created the basic sketch of what you just showed him.

That night you spent two hours with him on the couch in his salon, admiring in quiet the process of creating a finished artwork. You enjoyed every second of it, the artistic sequence of lines made something unbelievably good, impressing you to the very core, even though you already looked through the little gallery he had on the wall. Seeing it being put down in real time made it that much more captivating and you didn’t even notice how during the process you glued yourself to him, nearly laying your head over his strong shoulder, but he didn’t seem to mind at all.

When he was about to finish, you understood why he chose grey background to work with. As the last step, he dragged the white color over one of the fishes and that really made the whole piece magical.

“That’s perfect,” you told him when he tilted the screen so you could see it better. Taking his ipad in your hands to closer examine the creation of his hands, you nearly gasped at the incredible detail he put into the scales, shading each and every one individually. And the tails were so beautifully drawn, perfectly reflecting how they would just flow in the water.

Geto would lie if he said that the admiration your eyes were overflowing with wasn’t fueling his pride. Sure, his clients liked his projects – obviously, cause they let themselves be tattooed with them, but somehow the sparkle in your eyes sent a shiver down his spine.

“Is that so?” He purred, wrapping his arm around your back and planting his hand on the curve of your hip. There was no protest from you – quite the contrary, Geto noticed you even scooted a little closer, but the reason made itself apparent sooner than he’d expect. Even through the fabric of his dark washed jeans he could feel how cold was your thigh when it made full contact with the side of his leg. He placed a hand over your naked skin to check if his senses weren’t fooling him. “Gosh, you’re so cold.”

“It’s nothing,” you tried to shrug it off, but the feeling of his palm pressed against your plump flesh sent searing impulses through your nervous system. Slowly, you became almost painfully aware of how pleasant the near proximity of him was. How perfectly warm he felt next to you and your mind couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to be even closer. You actively tried to suppress those thoughts, but it was damn difficult, when he was just right there, so easy to reach.

“You look great in those shorts, but the summer is over, pretty,” Suguru muttered, his voice just slightly amused as he let his fingers smooth over the supple flesh of your inner thigh. He was so close to where you wanted him to be and yet so far.

“Yea, I know. It was warm during the day though. I was supposed to be home hours ago,” you confessed with a sigh, already thinking about the cold you have to walk through to get to your apartment. It wasn’t far, but if you were freezing inside Curseive, you’d most likely turn into an icicle when you get out, considering it was already midnight.

“Well, let me schedule your appointment and I’ll take you home.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“I’ll set you up for next month, so you’ll have plenty of time to chicken out,” he teased, shooting you a wink and making you roll your eyes.

That night, you did many things you’d call unreasonable. You spent few hours in closed space with a man you probably shouldn’t have anything in common, you leaned into him without giving it a second thought. That night you made an appointment to your first tattoo. That night Suguru carried you home in his arms, wrapped in a blanket he kept in the studio in case someone felt cold during the inking process. And that night, you let him into your bed.

If anyone was to meet Suguru for the first time, they’d probably say he’s absolutely perfect human being. Kind and always keen to help, very soft spoken and caring and mostly, they would be right, because he really was all of those things to the public eye. Before, you considered him a red flag, but it turned out, he didn’t leave you alone after he fucked you. You expected him to be gone as soon as he pulled his dick out of you, you expected him to ignore you after that night, but he stayed with you till morning, not even once letting go of you. You woke up to the soft kisses smeared over your shoulder and a little tickle of his hair brushing against your flesh instead of the cold bed.

You spend day after day at learning things about each other. You got to know how he liked his coffee in the morning, what foods he enjoy and what shampoo he uses to keep his hair so luscious and gorgeous all the time. Suguru noted to himself what sweets bring you the most joy, he discovered that the little scrunch on your nose when you’re laughing is the most adorable thing in the world and he also studied the playlist of your favorite music, finding out you share similar taste when it comes to songs. You spent hours drawing with him, creating designs on his tablet while sitting in between his legs, your back pressed to his broad chest. Sometimes he was suggesting changes to what you created and sometimes you were the one to add some details to what came from underneath his pen.

It’s been a month since you got together with him, or at least, since you started paying more attention to each other. With good dose of confidence, you could call him your boyfriend – even though it wasn’t officially talked through between you two, your actions made it pretty hard to deny. It just happened, after the first night together, you just became closer and there was no need to give it a title, when everyone knew you’re in relationship. You were holding hands in the campus, kissing publicly and spending time together for most of the breaks. You got to know his friends, his brothers and even got the password to unlock his phone. Yeah, it’s been only a month, but your bond with him developed quite quickly. Turned out, Suguru Geto wasn’t anything that you assumed he is. He’s lovely, really. Saccharine sweet if he really wants to be, but what no one seemed to be able to notice was that he really is a meanie sometimes.

Just like now, as you laid on the dark leathery bed in Suguru’s salon, already having enough of this whole idea of getting a tattoo and he only just started. To his credit, he did warn you that it’s going to hurt like hell, even suggested picking another place for your first tattoo with real concern in his voice, but you weren’t anticipating this kind of hell when you insisted you wanted it below your cleavage. It really was something you couldn’t compare to anything else in your life – maybe a kick in the shin, but continuous and in the middle of your chest.

Geto was working in focus, keeping his eyes on the pattern he was permanently imprinting onto your skin and taking little breaks from time to time to check on you. Last thing he wanted was you fainting there, and you felt like you were close. You couldn’t even focus on how the chocolate tasted on your tongue – the one he bought you, so you can have something to snack on during the process. The way his needles were stabbing the delicate, sensitive skin of your chest millions of times made you feel sick. The vibration of the machine reverberated directly into the bone below, enhancing the horrible experience and you could have sworn you were actually hearing the pain, while he was going over and over again through some areas. The choice of white ink made it that much worse, because to even make it properly visible, he had to re-trace the shapes more times and you felt each of them.

“Oh, you’re such a crybaby,” he teased softly, noticing the glistening trace of a tear that just rolled down your cheek. “Told you it’s gonna be a painful process.”

“Oh, shut up, Sugu,” you muttered, wiping the salty mark away and taking another chocolate. “Can we take a little break?”

“Let me finish that one and I’ll give you a minute. Sounds cool?”

“Uh-huh…”

You weren’t looking at what he was doing, and those little moments that he promised will get you that breather you asked for seemed to stretch for hours. The constant, sickening poking of the needles seemed to never end and at some point, you really were that close to just yank him by the hair and throw the tattoo gun out the window, just so he’ll stop for even a moment. But the break never came, Suguru just kept going, telling you he needs to just finish that line until the relief washed over you, when he smeared some kind of gel over the area of your sternum. You felt almost orgasmic, when the cold, soothing fluid covered the burning skin between your breasts.

“You can stop crying now, baby girl, we’re all done,” he all but sneered, making sure to cover the entire pattern with the healing formula that he made sure was enriched with anesthetics. He ordered that specially for your session.

“We’re done?” You repeated after him, wiping away the tears.

“Yes, baby, save those tears for me later.” He teased, helping you get up from the bed and you hopped down on the ground to properly see the artwork in the mirror. The skin around the lines was red, but the pattern itself made you gasp. It was made so beautifully, the lines were crisp and very thin, perfectly mirroring the vision you had, and the white ink? Gorgeous. Suguru put his entire soul into your tattoo, it was a mark he left on you that will stay there forever and sometimes you wished he’ll stay with you just as long.

“You’re so mean,” you grumbled, admiring the shapes that now were stuck to you permanently. Geto laughed quietly and wrapped his already ungloved hands around you, standing right behind and checking his work in the reflection.

“And what’s my crybaby gonna do about it?” He couldn’t help the mock and the glare you shot him only made his laughter bigger.

“I’ll ban you from my bed,” you deadpanned, a soft pout forming on your mouth and you slapped his hand away when he tried to undo the only button that held your tiny cardigan together.

“Then I’ll take you to mine and you’ll have to deal with Satoru sleeping with us. You know he can’t help himself and you know how that will end, right?”

“I know, I know…” you sighed, too focused on the lines that adorned your skin to care about the clinginess of Gojo, although you felt the soft cringe washing over you quickly. The artist in you was screaming, giggling and kicking its legs – the tattoo was everything you wished it to be and more. “It’s so beautiful, Sugu.”

“You like it, huh?” Geto smiled, leaning in to have a taste of you. The kiss he pressed to the side of your neck sent immediate shivers down your spine and you tilted your head as an automatic reaction. Your body knew that giving him more space will result in more pleasure. “I like it too,” he purred against your skin. “No bra for you for at least few days, pretty. I’ll be checking.”

“No cum on my tits either, poor little you.”

“You didn’t just call me little, did you?”

“And if I did?”

“Isn’t my dick pretty much the size of your entire forearm?” He joked, looking you up and down in the mirror. It was comical in a sense, to see what buttons you were eager to push when it was clear as day that you’re just tiny next to him.

"I wouldn't say so."

“Oh, you little brat. And to think I felt guilty for making you cry today,” Suguru shook his head and it was you this time who chuckled.

“You shamelessly tortured me for two hours, where’s the guilt in that?”

“I could have tortured you for three. Am I not the best for making it quick?”

“You’d love to make me suffer for longer, wouldn’t you?”

“Not before, but now I might wanna make you cry a little more.”

You shook your head and followed him, so he could put the protective film over the tattoo and once you sat on the edge of the tattooing bed, Geto pressed not only the second skin to your chest but also his lips to yours. The force with which he leaned against you made you almost loose your balance as the metallic frame underneath you squeaked from the sudden weight change. With ease, the man encaged you between his arms, intimidating your small form with his much larger one. You were no match for Geto when it came to sizes. He is a damn giant next to you – tall and broad, nothing but wall of muscle with limbs long and strong. Sometimes, you found it unfair how easily he was able to overpower you, manhandling you any way he wanted, no matter how much you’d fight.

You grabbed onto his shoulders, feeling his weight overpowering you and you tried to push him away, desperate to catch some air into your lungs but that desperation only made you mewling into his mouth. The cold metal of his lip piercing never failed to send shivers down your spine, whenever he was kissing you like his life depended on it. He made you feel special, even though you were far from it.

“My sweet girl,” Suguru praised, his words being kissed away by you, because as much as you needed oxygen, you also needed him just a little bit closer. “My little crybaby.”

“I think you owe me some kind of apology for the pain you’ve put me through,” you muttered, grabbing his lower lip between your teeth and swiftly taking the elastic from his hair. The pitch-black locks fell down his broad shoulders, keeping the slightest curl to them from the way they were tied up.

“Oh yeah?” A grin stretched his lips and his fingers immediately found their way to the front of your jeans. “I’m not going to apologize for something you signed up for, but I’ll gladly eat that pussy as a form of payment.”

His remark made you roll your eyes, but any comment you wished to throw at him got lost when he pressed his digits to your clothed clit. Suguru smiled in satisfaction, feeling the wet patch spreading over your panties. Desperate to see it all, he pulled back and took those jeans off of you completely, taking your underwear along with it. Cold air hit your soaked folds, making you shiver as you spread out for him.

“Look at you,” Geto smirked, sitting down on his stool and spinning your panties around his pointer finger, “all wet and ready and I barely just touched you. Or is it that pain you’re so whiney about what made your panties so soaked?”

“Don’t focus on that,” you muttered, snatching the cotton from his hands. “Focus on me.”

“So demanding.” Suguru chuckled, but truth was, as much as he wished to tease you a little more, his mouth was already watering at the sight in front of him. You were a meal he’d choose to have as his last supper, the most delicious dessert he could slurp on for hours and never get bored. Every inch of you, he found to be perfect, you raised the bar of his standards to the point he couldn’t even look at other girls around him. You really got him addicted and he wasn’t even mad about it.

The feeling of hot kisses Suguru was planting all over your thighs made you scoot closer to the edge. Usually, you’d let him do his thing – you loved his mouth marking your skin. You loved the bruised spots he liked to suck on here and there only to claim his place beside you, you loved the soft touches and harsh grips. But now, you really wanted him to jump straight to action. Those nips and kisses can wait.

You allowed your fingers to brush through his silky locks, your nails scratched his scalp along the way and he purred softly before a gasp cut the sound short – it surprised him how roughly you grabbed the strands of his hair, right next to his scull and pushed his head nose deep into your pussy. It was new to him, no one ever dared to tug at his hair and when it was you, he was more than keen to get used to it. The stinging feeling of the pull at his hair follicles sent an impulse straight down to his already erected cock, making it now impossibly hard and Suguru was thanking himself that his work attire that day consisted of sweatpants and not jeans.

You couldn’t help yourself, you knew he had the strength to fight you back if he really needed, so his suffocation wasn’t any of your concerns. And Geto took the challenge with pleasure. His pierced tongue danced over your clit as if he was trying to tattoo his own name over the swollen bud between your folds. The mixture of his hot muscle and cold metal made you whine above him, squeezing his hair even harder, pushing his head even deeper. A low, deep purr that left his throat reverberated through your entire nervous system and sipping into the bloodstream, making the pleasure rush inside your veins instead of blood.

“Oh my god, Suguru-“, you breathed out, coming undone just underneath the skill he had in his mouth. He was eating you out like his life depended on it, like he would die if he won’t bring you over the edge just with his tongue, like he was born to pleasure you. A coil quickly began to form in your stomach, a string threatening to snap at any given moment if he’ll continue with the intensity of his actions. Your thighs trembled, squeezing around his head, but he held them apart with force. He wasn’t done with you yet.

You couldn’t control the way his name was leaving your mouth; it came out like a prayer that he’d love to listen on repeat for the rest of his life. A music that filled his ears with pleasure and that pleasure seeped down, creating a river of ecstasy running down straight to his straining cock. You really got him to the point he felt he’s going to cum in his pants, but then the hold on his hair loosened. He used that moment to catch a breath before going back to his work.

“Don’t hold back,” he purred, keeping your hand where it belonged over his head, getting rid of any guilt you felt regarding pulling at his hair. You came not long after and he happily slurped you through the bliss, licking away everything you gave him, devouring your pussy as if nothing better was ever going to happen to him. “So sweet,” he grinned, finally pulling away. His face covered with your slick and hair messed up from where you held it, and he looked so beautiful like that when you looked back at him. Surrounded by haze of your release, he looked nearly angelic when he got up, pushing back the stool and taking his rightful place between your still trembling thighs. Giving you a moment to collect yourself, Suguru used it to take off his t-shirt for no other reason that to feel your hands over his skin and you were quick to press your palms over his tattooed flesh.

Geto’s body was only one of things that were impressive about him, but unarguably one of the most breathtaking. Years of training martial arts made his shape resemble the stone statues of gods. A hard wall of muscles covered with a light layer of soft skin and adorned by black lines of ink. You never failed to trace your fingers along the dragon that curled around his entire arm and spreading onto his chest. He also had a line of letters underneath the side of his ribcage and two betta fishes swimming up along his spine, following a trace of abstract lines and dots. He had told you once about the meanings beside all of images that adorned his body, but you couldn’t recall them now as he was once more kissing you feverishly. You tasted yourself all over his mouth, you took in his purrs and low groans that vibrated in his throat when you pushed down the waistline of his sweatpants, palming him through his boxers.

Geto grabbed your thighs, repositioning you closer the edge.

“Shouldn’t I avoid any physical activities with that tattoo so fresh?” You asked him with the littlest teasing undertone and he grinned, kissing your lips and everywhere around them with fervor.

“I’ll go slow, babygirl,” he promised, but slow is hardly the word he’d use once he pushed his girth into you. If you were a drug, Suguru was addicted to the point of no return, he never had enough of you, always too little, always eager for more and more and more. You were a godsend to him, a gift he was certain he never deserved but he cherished it with all of his might. Just like with all of his might he began thrusting into you.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, hooking them above his pelvis as if you needed to make sure he’s not going anywhere. Soft pants and whimpers were leaving your mouth every time his hips collided with yours and the sounds you were making concocted an erotic symphony with the low grunts he let slip through his throat. The melodic line of mixed voices, quiet praises and heavy breaths accompanied the desperate squeaking of the bed below you and wet reminders of how he was fucking into your dripping pussy.

Every ruthless push and pull of his hips sent surges of pleasure through your body. Lust and heat erupted inside of you like a volcano and the searing lava of endorphins turned your brain into a flurry. The room around was lapsing, nothing else mattered and even the untrusty bed underneath you, that held there just barely underneath the force of Suguru’s relentless slams couldn’t bother you when he was fucking you that good.

Flaming hot waves of white covered your vision as you hid your face in the crook of Geto’s neck. Panting for air, you held onto his shoulders harshly, digging your nails into the flesh there and marking it in red with crescent moons and scratches. The stinging pain made him whine in excitement, the sound low and prolonged enough to make your walls clench and flex around him. The stretch of his cock was setting your mind ablaze along with your body, your heart was beating fast and threatening to jump out of your chest.

“Sugu-ru-ah~”, you were panting, whimpering shamelessly under the force of his pelvis slamming against yours and he grinned above you, his grip over your hips merciless and bruising.

“You’re taking me so well,” he praised, smearing wet kisses along the line that led from underneath your ear to your shoulder. Something incoherent left your mouth and you felt yourself close, the swollen walls of your pussy squeezing him repeatedly and he knew you were close but wasn’t ready to give it to you quite yet.

It’s like you blacked out for a moment because it felt like you barely blinked and then your position changed. You didn’t notice how swiftly Geto slid onto the bed himself, situating you over his lap.

“Hop on baby, work for it a little,” he mocked lovingly, giving your ass cheek an encouraging slap. There was barely enough place for the two of you, but you made it work anyway, sliding back down onto his dripping from your juices cock. A soft moan escaped your lips as his girth once again squeezed into your oversensitive insides, pushing against every sweet spot on the way and making you shiver as the tip kissed your cervix. Desperate to feel more of him, you began rolling your hips, working your way into the palace of pleasure that Suguru Geto was and making the most out of the current position. His exposed chest and neck begged to be devoured and you couldn’t leave them neglected, so your mouth was on his skin in no time.

Suguru kept bucking his hips upwards, gasping and growling underneath you. His hands left burning marks over your ass, each slap sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body and the little whines you were letting out against his skin fueled the intense fire that burned inside of him even more. Sometimes Geto couldn’t believe you really were with him. Sometimes he wondered if maybe he’s high on something, maybe he’s imagining you, but only thing he really was high on, was you. Nothing could compare to the way your tight pussy swallowed his cock, to the way your little hands were grasping his arms and shoulders just to steady yourself when his force was becoming too much and absolutely nothing could stand even close to the intoxicating feeling of your lips on top of his. You really were made just for him, it had to be fate that once you stumbled upon his studio. He still remembers the first time you let him in, spontaneously inviting him over and after that, every day seemed to be somehow better than the previous one. Every minute he spent with you managed to surprise him with how good it felt. Suguru was hooked on you. But how could he not, when you had the ability to strip him of everything that was cool about him, leaving him raw and sensitive just for you?

“Fuck, c’mon, cry for me,” he panted, forcing your hips to move even when you clearly were running low on power. Your entire body was tensing, the velvety walls of your pussy squelching over his length and he felt himself flexing inside the hot embrace of you. The rush of ecstasy sent him overboard, it filled his veins and neurons with blissful daze of desire, and he found himself chasing the high, bracing for the impact of upcoming climax.

You whined and melted into him, lost in the haze and diving head first into the puddle of pleasure. The feeling overtook you, you couldn’t think anymore when he was pulling you underneath the euphoric sea. You felt light from pleasure, the ferocity of his movements burning you inside out, sending seething waves throughout your entire form. With vision blurred, nothing felt real anymore and if not for the rough grip he had on your hip and ass, you’d probably fly away and never get back.

Lost in the stars and haze of orgasm, you pushed yourself up, encouraged by few more harsh slaps and Geto followed you to sit up for no other reason than to be able to still taste you. At this point you were sure he tattooed not only betta fishes onto your chest but also the imprint of his hands to your butt cheeks. Gathering every last bit of strength you had in your muscles, you rolled your hips against him few times more. All of the intensity that was building inside of you snapped suddenly. Your spine arched and head rolled back, exposing your neck and chest to his kisses as he pushed you over the edge of bliss and you fell off that cliff with nothing but acceptance. Tears of pleasure rolled down your face and Geto was quick to kiss them away as they gathered along your lashes and down your jawline.

The weak sound of his name slipping down your tongue was enough for Suguru to let go. White hot ribbons of cum sprayed deep inside you as you rode him through both of your orgasms, the movements of your hips now slower and sloppier, bearing no more strength in them and yet, time after time you pulled them back and forth, desperate to feel him a little longer, to take more from him.

“My little crybaby,” he cooed, when you finally run out of battery, settling down on him and leaning against his broad chest, hiding there to catch your breath. You were sore, still overwhelmed by the avalanche of feelings that just fell over your head but satisfied to the point of delirium – so much so that you let the little honey-covered taunt slip. Suguru smoothed your back softly, relaxing in your proximity, once again stunned how somehow, you managed to make all of it feel better than the last time you slept together. Highs with you were unforgettable. Nonreplaceable. Incomparable to anything else he ever felt with anyone.

“Thanks god you’re strong,” you muttered against his skin, planting there few kisses while you’re at it. “I don’t think my legs will work after that.”

Geto chuckled. Yeah, he was going to marry you one day.

“No worries, sweet thing, your place in my arms is secured for lifetime.”

“Good.”

“But first, let me get you cleaned up.”

Your legs were weak when you got off of him, but surprisingly carried you enough to allow you to slowly pull yourself together. Suguru cleaned the space a little while you got dressed and made sure the protective film over your fresh tattoo was unharmed during the activities before you buttoned up your cardigan.

* * *

“Suguru, you still here?” Gojo stormed in, even though the studio was locked, but truth was, nothing could really be locked when it came to Satoru.

“Don’t tell me you copied the keys to my studio.” Geto chuckled, finishing the final wipe of the bed. There was no force that could stop his friend from invading his spaces, he dropped the effort years ago.

“I won’t tell you, you got this.” Satoru shrugged and looked at you. Then at Suguru and back at you, repeating that at least few times. “Were you two fucking here?”

“And why would you ask that?”

“No, the real question is, did that thing endure it?” White haired man pointed at the leathery bed. “What a champ, I thought it’ll collapse.”

“Fair,” you admitted at the same time as Suguru, and handed your man the hair elastic that you snatched from him earlier.

“So, what were you doing here? Besides contaminating the area of course.”

“I got a tattoo,” you replied to him and Satoru grinned.

“For real? That chest piece he told me month ago that you’ll for sure chicken out for?”

“Yeah, that one.” This time it was you who laughed and Geto just shrugged, tying up his hair.

Satoru wasted no time, it’s like he teleported to you and before you registered what was happening, he was already unbuttoning your blouse and truly, you couldn’t really be bothered. It’s been only a little less than a month since you really got to know Gojo, but it was very quickly presented to you that him and your boyfriend have a thing for sharing. It was as natural for them as breathing and whenever you saw them together, you wondered how it happened that they weren’t brothers by blood.

“It’s so cool, Suguru. Who knows, maybe I’ll let you tattoo something on me too.” Snow white grinned, examining the concoction of lines over your sternum. He had to bend in half almost, to be in line with the pattern on your skin so you brushed through his hair, messing them more than they were already.

“Not that it’s my life mission to do so, Satoru.” Geto stretched his body and glanced over the room once more, making sure he can close the studio for that day without leaving any visible remnants of what happened just moments ago.

“Doesn’t it kinda look like us?” Gojo asked, stopping you before you covered yourself back. “The black and white contrast… am I the only one who think so?”

It wasn’t your intention, but as he said it, you began seeing it. It really made sense, especially considering that Geto mixed the tiniest bit of lavender ink to the white, to prevent it from yellowing over time. That lavender coincidentally being the exact shade as the undertone of Gojo’s hair.

“Well, not anymore,” the black haired one sighed and once you managed to button up your blouse, he swooped you up into his arms. “You’re gonna lock the doors, Satoru. Turn off the lights.”

“Sooo…” Gojo nearly sang, flicking off the switches and turning the keys in the locks, making sure everything is well secured before he joined you two, already walking slowly towards your home. “Are you ours now?”

[natewriteslol]

Rumors: pt.1

Vil Schoenheit x Reader

Enemies to Lovers

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary: Vil and you have had a semi one sided rivalry as soon as your time at NRC began. However, the feud soon has to be put aside to stop an anonymous gossip blog attempting to ruin yours and possibly other students’ reputation. Will you and Vil be able to find whoever is behind this? Or will you be a fallen victim to those who call themselves, ‘The Catacombs?’ 

══════════════════════════════

Ever since your explosive introduction at Night Raven, you always had the tendency to stick out like a sore thumb, captivating everyone with minimal effort. You didn’t belong here amongst wizards, beastmen,merfolk and royals, yet you managed to fit right in.

 I think that was what really pissed him off, especially since he had worked so hard in order to accomplish what you do, impressing others and having eyes on him. However Vil had quickly got over it, his success wasn’t measured by popularity and validation from others, and he shouldn’t worry about a measly nobody that could never hold a candle to him. Instead, the dorm leader focused on keeping peace within his life, enjoying the routine and tranquility. 

Which just wasn’t your thing.

You were clumsy, loud and did things your own way with no regard for how others felt. He did give you credit for you having the confidence to be yourself and being extremely empathetic to those who needed it. 

Maybe the tipping point was you seeing him in his most vulnerable state, watching him overblot and lose control in envy against one of the people he hated the most. You were there to solve the issue and stop him alongside your friends. And worst of all he heard you point it out to them, believing that no one could hear your whispers. 

But he heard every word. 

‘He completely lost it over Neige, I’m glad we got it under control,’ he heard you say quietly to Ace and Deuce. 

Later on, you decided to offer him a juicebox as he sat on the empty auditorium stage…

Apple flavored.

Which he swears on his unique magic  that you did that on purpose to spite him, a sick joke that only made his distaste for you stronger. It felt like you knew exactly what to do at every moment to make him lose it, like yelling “on accident” when he needs to master a potion formula, saying something crude in the lunch room, the way it seems everyone is obsessed with you.

 And of course it was extremely shocking to Rook when his dorm leader had begun re-explaining his disdain for the new kid at school. Despite laying back on the dark purple bedding that would make anyone relax and the sunset pink lighting from the lamp, Vil was far from calm. He had to recount the latest anger-inducing incident to his friend during their “sleepovers” on a Friday night, being wary of his not yet fully dried mauve nail polish as he talked with his hands. 

It was this day that really made him angry, his last straw as some would say. He held his pen as he wrote notes busily into his notebook, heavily invested in order to pass the upcoming exam. It was wonderful, as the class was quiet just as he liked it, allowing him to fully concentrate and absorb the contents of the slide show created by Professor Crewel. 

However, it was easy to hear a decrepit wooden door close in the pin-drop silent classroom. As the black and white man’s back was turned to the class, reading out the text of the slides to the class, you, Y/N L/N thought you could be slick enough to be unscathed by Crewel’s wrath

You being late was more set in stone than the heat within the land of the Scalding Sands it seems. Your satchel was barely slung on your shoulder with your weird, round cat creature barely catching up behind, and it was just Vil’s luck that he had to be the poor sap that had the only seat that was available amongst the many wooden tables. Crewel began scolding you as you fumbled in your seat, and whilst onlookers found it hilarious they wouldn’t dare look or let out a snicker at the scene. Your nervousness  made you fumble your belongings in your bag as you attempted to get out your pen and notebook, your arm would touch his. 

Making him neglect his usual manners and his side-eye of judgment fell upon you. Of course you didn’t notice as he began to study your features, the look of panic flooding your face. Although, this moment of looking at you ended up being a grave mistake.

“Mr. Schoenheit, if there is a huge problem with L/N being late to the point where your eyes can’t be bothered to take notes on the slides vital for your final then you will be delighted to join us in a discussion after class,” Crewell spat, his anger piercing the air. 

His lilac eyes quickly reverted to the projector placed in front of the usual chalkboard. He was embarrassed yet no one could judge him or usually break out in whispers, in fear that they would be included in the punishment. Vil cursed at himself internally but that damn out of season, raggedy bag you carried was enough of a distraction, not counting the person attached to it. 

All throughout the lecture, the actor had prayed that Crewell would forget about the mishap completely as there was an hour of class remaining, yet it had appeared that luck was not on his side at all.

He had tried to flee with the crowd of students rushing out the door, hoping no one would pay him any mind. But after he made one sharp movement to get out of his seat- 

“Mr. Schoenheit!”

Shit. 

Everyone had completely rushed out, with some snickering at the scene, not wanting to be there when the scolding would ensue as entertaining as it may be to see. 

“Care to join us in the conversation like I suggested earlier?” Obviously this was not a yes or no question and Vil had no choice in the matter, but nodded out of courtesy. 

“Yes, Professor,” Vil replied, coming down the short steps from his seat in the front row, not making even a hint of eye contact with you. 

“I understand that the action of lateness pesters you heavily, Mr. Schoenheit. Does it not?”

“...Well, yes it does, Mr. Crewel. However, I promise that another incident like this will never happen again and I will be sure to mind my business more when it comes to fellow students,” Vil said, wanting to spit out some words that could please his teacher into letting him go off the hook. 

“Despite being an actor, lying truly isn’t your area of expertise, young pup,” Crewel replied quickly, keeping a hand steady on the pointer he held. He then turned to you, his look softening as despite you not being an astounding student, Crewel favored you very much. Once again your formula of minimal efforts yet good results was absolutely infuriating to him. 

“I truly worry about you Y/N, as along with your grades, your attendance along with Grim’s as a default are. I will be having a meeting with Crowley about the extra work he has you doing on campus to allow you to live here as well. However, I will be suggesting a partner assignment that is extra credit for the both of you.”

“I mean no disrespect Mr. Crewel, but I personally am in need of no extra credit whatsoever. I have a 99.5 percent in this class which will obviously be rounded by the grading admin,” Vil explained with a slight laugh in his voice. You rolled your eyes as it was plain to see that the blonde was putting you down. Sure you may not have a 90 something percent, but he didn’t have gnomes gnawing on his ankles this morning that he had to take care of himself with no magic. 

But Crewel just looked at him with a concerned look, he was no stranger to shade being thrown and he was not about to tolerate that disrespect. He then explained as he moved to his desk organizing papers , “Oh dear, it looks like you have a bit of incorrect info dear pup. The grading admin stopped rounding this year due to academic dishonesty and such. Also I must add that you and Y/N had gotten the exact same test score, a C- if I remember. And with this being a huge difference from your usual scores, this will drag you down, I fear.” 

The blonde’s breath hitched, he would be fucked for this semester and although not royally, that lack of satisfaction would eat him alive. That last exam Vil had little to no time to study due to his role as a villain in “Love Conquers All” on MovieFlix but of course karma stops for no one.

“A way we could solve this though is through our extra credit tutor program. Both of you enroll, Schonheit tutors you and makes sure you get to class on time, and if there is improvement then both of you benefit. And Mr. Schonheit will get the satisfaction he craves for his grades.”

"Does that sound like a plan?" Crewel had waited for a nod from the both of you, but Vil quickly rejected that notion faster than Ruggie could snatch someone’s wallet.  

"How do I know that they will honor their promise, Professor? I am a very busy person and I do not wish to waste my time with someone who does not take things seriously,"

But you found his cocky attitude completely unbearable at this point. There was no way you were going to allow him to speak as if you weren’t standing right next to him. “I actually do take things seriously, please don't act as though you know me,” you said blankly, actually looking at Vil while talking for once.

"Excuse me?" Vil replied, he was thrown off completely due to you being completely silent this entire conversation. 

"Listen, I don't flunk because I don't want to and I don't show up late because I want to. I'm willing to fix it if Crowley changes the work schedule because it's virtually impossible to be a handyman and student all at once sometimes," you clarified. 

`

"I am an honorable person," you held out your hand to Crewel "and I swear I will change. I just need some help."

  Crewel smiled, enjoying the fire in your spirit to stand up for yourself. You then turned to Vil, holding out your hand with a stern expression and as unsettled as he was he took your hand in his gloved one and shook it.

"Good choice my pups, I know you both won't regret this."

But despite having many differences, you both thought the same thing.

‘Yeah right.’

~~~

After the dramatic retelling, the man grabbed the golden, hand held mirror on his night stand to pluck his eyebrows, carrying on his irritated commentary, “So now I have to watch over them like a babysitter. Can you believe this?” 

“Ah, Roi du Poison I do feel sorry for this causing you so much stress, but don’t you believe the little Trickster could hold their end of the bargain?” Rook questioned, as afterall, you were a good friend of his and he knew you of all people could keep a promise. It was always in your heart to get things done, regardless of how you feel about it. 

“Oh please, I will give it a week, Rook,” he replied, hyper fixated on evening the arches of his brows only for Epel with sleepiness intertwined still in his walk, wondering what the cause of the angry tone of voice from Vil was for. 

“What’s going on, you guys?” Epel questioned with a yawn. 

But Vil snapped his fingers in recall, completely ignoring the question, “Ah, Epel you just reminded me, remember when we were walking to class and L/N had come up to you, ruffled your hair and such and was very curt with me? What even was that?”

“...”

“What is it?”

“Vil, Y/N is really aware you don’t like them. They actually talked to me about it today,” Epel explained bluntly. 

Rook nodded in agreement, facing the vanity mirror as he peeled off his face mask“Oui, they try their best to not look at you even.”

Vil paused in thought, he didn’t think he made his dislike toward you so obvious but I guess it was quite the contrary.

“They don’t go spreadin’ but they told us, they’re cool about it though,” the lavender haired boy quickly added, not wanting to make anything worse for you. 

But it didn’t necessarily matter whether or not you both liked one another, what mattered is that you got the job done by solving your faulty grades and attendance. Dislike is just a small hiccup, plus there were plenty of justifiable reasons as to why Vil did not like you, despite being told otherwise from everyone. However, he didn’t face repercussions nor are there heavy consequences for an opinion after all. 

BUZZ.

The trio’s phones either vibrated or let out a cheery notification. Even from the door open ajar to the rest of the dorm, you could hear the different sound effects from student’s devices. The odd coincidence made them all look at their phones at the same time to look at what it was. 

“This just in for some hot new gossip! I heard from a little birdy that the fairest of them all is viciously bullying the new transfer from a whole new world. But…they’re being partnered up to tutor by Crewel! Looks like all beauty doesn’t come with grace :( 

-The Catacombs” 

“The hell is this?” Epel said quietly, staring at the anonymous text message. It wasn’t a registered number, instead it was an auto programming since it was only five numbers reading: 88709. 

“Oh mon dieu, Roi du poisson,” Rook uttered, unknowing of what to say, going from looking horrified at his phone to his dorm leader for any type of response. 

By then the phone notification of Vil’s was ringing out of control, and he could hear Pomefiore members’ reactions to such an appalling message. He was receiving texts non-stop from multiple people asking him all the same questions,

Is it true? 

 Why he would put someone down like that?

 Why does he have a problem with Y/N? 

But a text from one specific person ate him alive completely.  

Jack:

Hey, I don’t know if you saw the message

He quickly typed to the beastman in attempt to defend himself, knowing what they both went through together as children. Vil couldn’t let Jack of all people misinterpret him as this bully to his good friend. 

Vil:

I would never bully anyone, nor do I waste my energy on people I don’t like. The stress ages you too much 

Are you seriously going to believe this anonymous crap over me Jack?

Jack:

I’ll talk to you later.

It’s not that I don’t believe you, but I have never heard the nicest things about you from them.

Something like this absolutely could not get out to the public, bullying scandals can completely drag down a career as almost everyone goes through that traumatic experience of being casted aside because you’re different. And he would never be a monster like that toward someone, but playing villains in countless movies and tv shows would make it seem completely believable. 

It was them who most definitely put out that rumor, and Vil didn’t care whether it was late at night, or if Rook and Epel wanted him to stop.

He was paying a visit. 

~~~

With nothing planned and being extremely exhausted, this might’ve been the slowest moving Friday night you’ve ever experienced. And while you haven’t been inclined to care too much about what people say about you, to say you weren’t haunted by your encounter with Vil would be an understatement. Of course you were well aware of his distaste for you, but today it just felt as though it reached a boiling point with the way he was acting. But to take your mind off of it, you freshened up after a long day in class, slipped on something comfortable, put your phone on “Do Not Disturb” and decided to watch some movies on your laptop whilst eating snacks with Grim. After all, you deserved a reward as it would be the last day of relaxation before you had to lock down completely on your education. 

Your cat and yourself ended up nodding off to sleep on your couch easily due to the calming environment of your house, as the ghosts decided to take a hint on the mood you were in and were extremely quiet. As both of you were catching up on needed rest, you heard an excessive pounding on your door.  Whoever this was, it felt like they were about to break down your door with how aggressive they were knocking. 

Grim nearly attached to the ceiling with fear, making you yelp in fear, naturally frightened to answer the door to see who was behind that hostility. Your eyes bolted to your tall case clock, the time reading 10:32pm, the late time didn’t ease your anxiety whatsoever.

However, after adjusting to your surroundings, you decided that you needed to answer as to whoever was continuing to hammer on your door as it was giving you a headache. Neglecting your human world instincts of not opening doors to strangers, you walked up to your tall mahogany door, only to find your favorite person on the other side.  

Vil Schoenheit. 

His face was painted with true anger that you’ve only seen during his overblot, “You have some goddamn nerve writing that shit about me.”

You were absolutely frazzled and confused overall, “What even are you talking about? And why are you at my house?”

“Answer your fucking phone and you will find out,” the blonde replied noxiously, watching your every move believing that you were trying to play stupid with him. 

As you opened your phone screen, your eyes were lit up by notifications, as everyone and their mother had texted and called you in a matter of minutes. 

But one message sat completely unfamiliar coming from that fateful, 5 digit number. 

It was horrible and beyond untrue, even though he didn’t like you, you would never stretch it to bullying. Maybe as a joke amongst friends but never to be taken seriously. And as you digested that everyone had gotten this text message and with him being a celebrity this would do heavy damage. And whoever wrote this was out to get you both as many are absolutely in love with Vil, others hate bullying and hearing a glorified superstar being accused of such horrible things would make tabloids run with this story. 

This was a complete lose lose situation. 

You looked up to see Vil hovering over you, watching you like a hawk, you swore you saw his eye twitch with irritation, “I would never write something like this. And listen I am so sorry-”

“Who else would write something like this? Do you think I’m a damn fool-?” A small hand on his shoulder cut off his angry tirade progressing as he was about to move forward.

“Vil, we are going to get nowhere if you just get angry and lose control, now Y/N do you have any clue as to who would write something like this?” your friend Epel questioned kindly, juxtaposing his dorm leader completely. 

“Not exactly, I don’t hate Vil at all like that and I wouldn’t spend my Friday night making up shit like that and you can check all of my technology,” you defended, offering your phone.

His suspicion got the better of him, snatching it out of your phone Vil scrolled through your phone messaging history. And despite going against his suspicion, he didn’t have any concrete proof that you were the culprit.

So until then, he guessed that you were just as wronged as him.

~~~

You all quickly moved to the inside of your house, both to get away from the cold night air, but also to get out of sight as to anyone who could be watching all of you right now. To say that this made all of you, especially you and Vil paranoid wasn’t an over exaggeration. Beginning to theorize with your two friends as to who would write something like this about you two. But unfortunately, every possible “lead” you had was just a dead end, no clear motive, but then again who would need a motive for a stunt like this. It was obvious that attention was what they craved, to drive both of you up the wall and unfortunately they succeeded.  

“All they gave is a nickname, but any phone number could be tracked to a specific device used,” You said, as student announcements used 5 digit numbers all of the time, this person had to be skilled in tech. 

Vil leached off of your theory, “The catacombs is quite a gothic name afterall, we need to search Ignihyde or Diasomnia.” 

“Why them? That seems stereotypical” you asked, feeling argumentative on such a baseless theory. 

“Because, Ignihyde is the most technologically advanced dorm, and Diasomnia students seem like the type to enjoy playing tricks like this anyway,” Vil explained as if it were obvious, his sharp gaze never leaving yours as he spoke.

While the flames of his anger had been flamed, it seemed as though his disdain for you was more permanent than a wine stain on a wedding dress. Never fleeting even during this moment of vulnerability from both ends, but you had no energy to begin bickering about it.

“Roi du poisson et mon Trickster, if we want to find whoever is doing this cruel joke, you must put aside your differences and work together,” Rook said, cutting the tension and bringing the platinum blonde back to Earth. 

Whilst both of you didn’t want to admit it, the archer was right. If you wanted to figure this out you couldn’t be at each other's throats, fighting one another constantly. Otherwise you would accomplish little to nothing. 

And there was no way ‘The Catacombs’ could be hidden forever, and you would make sure to uncover the skeletons within it. 

~~~

A/N: Hi everyone! This fic takes inspo from an amazing novel that I read called "Ace of Spades" please read it its absolutely fantastic and the author is a genius. Thank you for bearing with me for the long time it takes to pump out content, you guys are amazing and it's always great to have opportunities to write.

xoxo, Nate <3

Taglist: (pls let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part!!)

[honeyhotteoks]

this night together - chapter twelve (j.yh + s.mg)

chapter twelve: home is always home

chapter summary: you were planning to tell them how you felt on saturday, but when things go sideways at the studio you find yourself running home as fast as you can.

warnings: this is the chapter i've been warning about for a long, long time. please read responsibly if you're easily triggered by any of the following topics - guy who can't take no for an answer, aggressive/sexist language, physical and verbal assault, panic/ptsd, physical injury/blood, hospitals, police interaction (mentioned), nightmares/night terrors, self harm (sort of?)

notes: please note, if you're reading this on or around 12.3.23 when i'm posting, i've put up three chapters at once. make sure you don't skip chapter ten and eleven! additional notes under the cut~!

pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader

genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory

word count: 11.6k

previous chapter | next chapter | AO3

for my readers who aren't that familiar with a/b/o, i'm introducing something in this chapter that you may not have seen before. i wanted to add some context! if you're new to a/b/o, there is something that alphas have often called "alpha tone", "alpha voice", or just "tone". alphas in many depictions have the ability to lower their voice in a particular way that is seen as a strict command to an omega, and it triggers/activates their submission. this is something that can be used negatively or positively, but in this scene will be negative. there's also something called headspace/subspace that you will see referenced, and an omega can be put into headspace/subspace via alpha tone. it is a bit of a dissociative state where the omega can only really hear and understand commands. this can be used negatively or positively as well, but again, definitely not good in this scene. i hope that helps.... and happy/responsible reading!!

You really, really wish today was Saturday and not Thursday. Thursday just means you still have to get through Friday and then all of Saturday morning before your scheduled dinner with Yunho and Mingi and all the things you want to say are practically eating you up inside. But there’s a right way and a wrong way to tell someone you’ve been an idiot and you’re in love with them, and blurting it out in the middle of dance practice isn’t really going to help make this easier. 

God, you hope they still want you. 

On the plus side, this week has been insane. With the full crew back things are moving at a million miles per hour, and you’ve been in more meetings about what’s coming up next in the past week than the entire time you’ve worked for BB Trippin and KQ.

Your schedule for the next six months is frankly intense. Between preparing for year-end stages and working on the choreography for the newly debuting girl group, you’re juggling conversations about New World’s next comeback and the next round of touring. With the money coming in now there’s an opportunity to take more dancers, and that just means more late nights and early mornings getting everything right. 

It’s after your third concept planning meeting of the week that you find two minutes to talk to Wooyoung, his bag already slung over his shoulder as he refills his water bottle. 

“So, you’re going?” You ask him vaguely, trying not to tip off anyone else in the vicinity that he’s got a date. 

“Yeah,” He nods, eyes flicking over your shoulder to see if San and Seonghwa are nearby, “I think I’m going to throw up,” 

“No, you’re not,” You assure him. 

“I might,” He whines, running a hand through his mop of long black hair, “I never know what to say to him,” 

“Woo,” 

“I know what to say to everyone, y/n,” He lowers his voice, panic evident in his eyes, “but every time Sangie smiles I go fucking blank,” 

“Sangie?” Your eyebrow quirks, “Is that what we’re calling him now,” 

“Shut up,” Wooyoung blushes. 

“Wow,” You prod him softly, “you’re down so bad, it’s been like three days,” 

“It’s so bad,” He grimaces, “this is embarrassing,” 

“Now you see how I feel,” You smirk, “it’s kind of fun being on this end of things,” 

“Please,” He rolls his eyes, “are you telling me you’re not panicking?” 

“Oh, no,” You laugh, “I definitely am. It’s just nice to know I’m not alone here,” 

“I was never this mean to you,”

You hold his gaze, just blinking, there’s nothing to say to that he doesn’t already know. 

“Okay, fine,” He sighs, “but still, feeling like this,” 

“Feeling like what?” Seonghwa’s voice shocks you both out of your quiet conversation and you both jump back from each other. 

“Jesus,” You breathe, “you scared me,” 

Seonghwa smiles, “Sorry,” he shrugs, “everything okay?” 

“Perfect,” Wooyoung takes a step back and shakes his head, “totally good,” 

Seonghwa’s brows come together in the middle, “You seem like something’s wrong, can I help?” 

Wooyoung almost blanches, and you know he’s dreading telling San and Seonghwa about Yeosang, so you jump in to help. “Woo was just helping me figure out Saturday,” You cover and draw Seonghwa’s attention back to you, “you know, figuring out what to say to them,”

“Oh,” Seonghwa nods, but you can see that he doesn’t really buy it, “right,” 

“Anyways,” Wooyoung starts walking backwards towards the exterior door, “I have to go, but you know, y/n, call me if you need to talk more later,” 

“I will,” You nod, “I definitely will.” 

Wooyoung knows that what you mean is that you want detailed date updates, and he almost looks mortified at the idea. He disappears fast, leaving you and Seonghwa relatively alone in the hallway. 

“What is up with him this week?” Seonghwa asks, confusion on his face. 

“He has a date,” You tell him quietly, “he’s kind of freaking out about it.” 

“Oh,” Seonghwa glances towards the door where Wooyoung just disappeared, “that’s not that weird for him,” 

“It is if he’s this interested after only a few days,” You say, “but don’t tease him. He’s kind of worked up about the whole thing,” 

“Who’s he seeing?” Seonghwa asks. 

“He should tell you that,” You beg off the gossip immediately, “just do me a favor and give him a little space to talk to you and San about it,” 

“Okay,” He draws out the word, not sure exactly where you’re going. 

“He’s nervous about upsetting the delicate balance,” You gesture towards him, referring to the carefully constructed relationship that is Wooyoung, San, and Seonghwa. 

“He’s seeing another alpha?” Seonghwa jumps to that conclusion with ease, and you can see how he would get there. 

You’re shaking your head before you can stop yourself, “It’s not that,” 

That does surprise him, and Seonghwa’s eyes widen a bit, “Oh,” 

“Right,” You nod, leading him to the conclusion as close as you can without spelling it out, “my point is, he’s nervous and he’s got a pretty serious crush, and he hasn’t said so but I think he’s scared you and San won’t approve.” 

“I would never,” He stumbles over his words, “out of anyone, we would never judge him, he has to know that,” 

“Hey,” You reach for Seonghwa, stepping a little closer so your voices stay low in the entryway as you brush your hand down his forearm, “he knows, he’s just panicking a little.” 

“Should I talk to him?” Seonghwa asks, his eyes earnest. 

“Not yet,” You shake your head, “he’ll figure it out, just don’t push him right now. I’ve never seen him this anxious,” 

“I won’t,” He promises, “thank you for telling me,” 

“Mhm,” 

Seonghwa chews over your words a second and then decides to let it drop. With a sigh he refocuses on work, “Are you staying late?” 

“Yeah,” You shrug, “I have some things to catch up on. You?” 

“I need to track down San,” He says, “but then after that I’m probably heading out a little early,” 

“Nice,” You nod, “still shaking off the jetlag?” 

He nods, “Unfortunately,” 

Down the hall you watch a few of the dancers gathering up their belongings, and then the door to the back office opens to reveal Yunho and Mingi, sitting close together and studying a computer screen as Jaemin leaves for the day. 

“Well,” Your feet are already moving, “then I’ll see you later,” 

“Sounds good,” He says, and then he gives you a knowing look, seeing exactly where you’re headed. 

Before you know it, you’re moving through the people in the hall and trying desperately to come up with a reason for crashing their tete-a-tete. 

“Hey,” You knock softly on the open door, “am I interrupting?” 

“No, no,” Yunho smiles when he sees you and your stomach bubbles. 

“We’re just watching back practice,” Mingi leans back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes. 

“Oh, nice,” You say, and your empty words do little to fill the empty space. 

“Do you… need something?” Yunho tries. 

“Ah, yeah, sorry,” You scramble internally for something to say, “I’m staying late, but I’m kind of starving, I just didn’t know if you still had stuff stashed?” 

“Sure,” He gestures towards the cabinets on the side wall, “whatever you want, help yourself,” 

“Great,” You dash towards the cabinets, and you can’t even imagine eating right now with how fluttery your insides have been, but you snag a couple of protein bars anyways. 

The silence is brutal. Not like before, not like the tense and uncomfortable angry silences of the past, but it’s still sitting there between you. Part of you wants to shut the door right now and just get it all out there, but again, you know you shouldn’t. 

Mingi’s warm, chocolatey scent is richer in here, evident after a hard practice of working up a sweat and being given a chance to permeate with the door closed. You feel your body naturally relaxing at it, so comforting and familiar, and then you get the first pang of Yunho’s warm, summer rain. 

You can hardly believe how you convinced yourself that this wasn’t scent sympathy when right here and now it’s so obvious they belong to you. You wonder if they feel it too. 

“Are you okay?” Mingi’s voice snaps you out of your sudden daydream staring at the cabinet full of snacks. 

“Yeah, yes,” You shut them and step back, “I’m fine, just a little tired.” 

“Not sleeping well?” Yunho says, concern all over his features. 

“I’m fine,” You wave him off, “just a busy week,” 

“You don’t have to stay late,” Mingi offers, “I’m sure whatever you’re working on will still be fine tomorrow,” 

“I know,” You nod, “but if I don’t get it out of my system I’ll just be thinking about it all night, you know how it is,” 

Mingi nods, “Still, take it easy later,” 

“I will,” You promise, and you start to turn towards the door when the words just bubble up out of your throat, “you’re both still free Saturday, right?” 

“Yeah,” Mingi answers for them both, “are you?” 

“Definitely,” You nod, “I just wanted to make sure, I’m looking forward to it,” 

“We could do tomorrow instead,” Yunho offers, “after practice?” 

“As long as you don’t have other plans,” Mingi cuts in, “for a Friday night,” 

“Tomorrow works,” You jump at the chance, “I’d actually love that, I just didn’t want to crowd you when you’re adjusting to the timezone again,” 

“It’s fine,” Mingi brushes that thought off, “I’d rather see you,” 

“Yeah,” Yunho nods, “it’ll be good to catch up,” 

You smile, “I want to hear all about the trip,” 

“The trip,” Mingi says, just repeating your words like he’s weighing them out on his own tongue. 

Something about his voice sends a sharp zing up the back of your spine. 

Your body feels a little soft, relaxing bit by bit. 

Yunho’s eyes flick over you, “Are you sure you need to stay late?” 

Something your primal little brain cannot handle right now is the thought of your alphas being protective, not when you’re standing in this room encased by their scents that feel a little too right. Your stomach tightens and you pray that you’re not blushing pink at the flickering thought in your mind of them taking you home. 

You need to get out of this room before they realize it. 

“I’m good,” You tell him, stepping backwards towards the door, “but thank you, and dinner tomorrow is perfect,” 

Mingi says something, you think he’s agreeing, but you’re giving another excuse over your shoulder about how you need to get back to it so you can make it out of this room. 

Your heart is practically beating out of your chest as you leave the office and make it down the hall, heading for the studio room you’ve booked for the afternoon. You nearly run into Dahan and Minseok as you cut around the corner, but you apologize quickly and barely give them a second glance as you hide yourself away in one of the dance studios alone. 

With the door firmly shut you lean back against the closed door and take a deep breath. These feelings are going to work you into a frenzy if you don’t get them under control. Scent sympathy is rare, an almost perfect match between an alpha and omega that makes every part of a relationship heightened, especially once that initial sympathetic bond is fulfilled with a claim. While they were gone you came to that conclusion slowly, the steady ache in your chest so clearly informed by the lack of them, but now that they’re back and here the realization of it collides into you full-force. 

You love them, that’s true. But what’s more is how much you need them, and how much you hope they need you. You can’t let them realize it before you have the chance to say everything you need to say, and if you had stayed in that room a few minutes more they might have felt themselves. With the dinner moved to Friday you just have one more night to get through. One more night, and one more day of work. And then the chips will fall where they may. 

With a deep breath you let the hammering of your heart slow and then you focus back on the work ahead. The more you pour yourself into work the faster these 24 hours will go, so you put your head down and get to it. 

You work for a long time, probably too long, until your muscles are positively aching and any thoughts of Yunho and Mingi are drowned out by lyrics to the chorus of this song that just keeps looping in your mind as you try different patterns of footwork. Here in this bubble you don’t know who’s still at work, who’s left for the day, what time it is, or if the sun has set yet. You just know your own body and every which way that it moves to this one singular song. 

Your hair is hot around your face, sweat clinging to your brow as you finish out the latter half of the choreography that you’re confident with. It’s fast, and includes so much up and down floor work you’re pretty sure you’d be passing out if you weren’t hydrating properly. Focused on your reflection in the mirror you gather your hair up and away and into a knot and then move to find your towel and water bottle. 

The door to the studio opens behind you, and you glance back without really seeing who’s popping in, “Hey,” 

For a split second it occurs to you that it might be Yunho or Mingi and your stomach flips as you start to turn. 

“Hey, y/n,” Minseok’s voice is a bit of a surprise. 

“Oh, hey,” 

He looks like he’s just stopping by to grab something from the far desk in the corner. You’re honestly surprised that he’s still here, he had looked on his way out earlier when you bumped into him in the hall.  

“Are you heading out for the night?” You take a drink of water and catch your breath, leaning against the mirrored wall behind you. 

“Soon,” He nods, running a hand through his dark hair and snagging a sweatshirt hanging over the back of the office chair. 

“Well,” You smile, “have a good night,” 

“You too,” He says as he walks past you, but then his steps slow and you hear him sigh before he turns on his heel, “listen, can I ask you something?” 

“Sure,” 

“I hope you don’t think this is weird,” He takes a few more steps back towards you, “but I’ve actually been meaning to ask you something for a while now,” 

“Oh,” Your eyebrows raise, and suddenly you can see everything in his expression. You know this look. You know the way men get when they finally rip off the bandage and change the equilibrium of a room, the moment they decide they can’t see you as just a friend. What absolutely terrible timing he has.

“I was thinking,” He says, a little pause before the rest and you hope you’re keeping your face nice and neutral, “do you think I could take you out some time?” 

“Out?” The word leaves you. 

He smiles, “Yeah, out, like a date.” 

“I appreciate that,” You shake your head a little, trying to smile and keep things light, “but I don’t think so,” 

His lip quirks and his nose scrunches and you suppose that if you were interested you might find this part of him charming, but you’re not, so it isn’t. “Are you seeing someone?” He asks. 

“No,” You tell him honestly, “not right now.”

“So, I can’t get you to give me one chance?” He takes a step forwards, gesturing between you both and keeping his gaze hopeful. 

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” You shake your head, “we work together.” 

“Oh, it’s fine,” He assures you, brushing past the boundary you tried to set with casual indifference, “don’t worry about that.” 

“Still,” You shake your head, “but thank you for asking.” 

You’re not at all thankful for him asking, but he’s nice enough, and it feels like the polite way to keep the status quo. 

“That’s a shame,” He admits, his smile dropping almost entirely, “are you sure I can’t convince you to give me just one chance? I really do like you, y/n,” 

“I’m sure,” That should be firm enough. 

“I thought we were getting along well,” He cuts off the end of your words, “becoming friends.” 

“I thought so too,” You straighten up off the wall behind you, tossing your towel over your shoulder and setting up to walk right out of the studio room if that’s what it would take to end this interaction, “I thought we were friends,” 

You can’t help but emphasize the word friends, and you watch the moment his expression drops more, annoyance flicking through his jaw. 

“I didn’t think you had such a problem seeing people you worked with,” He says pointedly. 

“Excuse me?” 

“It’s just that,” He shrugs, nodding towards you, “I didn’t think it bothered you. Considering.”

“Listen,” You lock eyes with him, “let it go. I’m trying to be nice about this, but I can be clearer. I am not interested in going out with you.” 

“You don’t have to be rude,” 

“Goodnight, Minseok,” You’re not staying for this. 

“I’m a good guy,” He says as you start towards the door, “don’t, come on just stay a second,” 

You keep walking. 

“y/n,” He says, his voice startlingly close behind you, “stay.” 

It’s like your legs stop working, an echoing strike of nerves down your spine and you stumble slightly as his hand closes around your wrist. 

“Let go of me.” You start to turn towards him, pulling your arm back as you do, but he speaks again. 

“Stop.” His voice is so low suddenly, situated smack in the center of his chest, a tenor you’ve never heard from him before. Your legs stop working all together, suddenly feeling like lead.

“Take your hands off me.” You blink hard, your head feeling a little full suddenly. 

“I just don’t understand,” He bites, “we’ve been flirting for weeks.” 

You can’t find the words to tell him that you being nice isn't flirting, but you’re stunned into silence. You can barely even think of a time when you had a sustained conversation with him where someone else wasn’t present. How could interactions that felt so routine to you feel so significant for him? 

“And you’re just… not interested?” He scoffs, “You’re what, twenty-six? Twenty-seven? You’re going to start running out of good offers.” 

So many things about Seo Minseok fall into place with just those words. The way that just a few weeks ago he barely looked at you, barely spoke to you. Always spending his attention on the alphas in the room around you, but never you. How when that tide shifted you thought, maybe naively, that he was just shy. But he’s not shy, not in the least. He’s just another alpha in a long line of alphas who look down their noses at omegas until there’s something they want from them. 

“That’s really none of your concern,” You shake your head, “now get the fuck off me.” 

“Be quiet.” His jaw sets hard. 

So does yours. 

A thousand thoughts run through your brain like a wildfire eating up a hillside of dry bark but nothing can make it past your lips. The tone of his voice has you rooted to the spot, his instructions not suggestions but strict commands. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard an alpha use tone, but it’s certainly the first time it’s been directed at you. You’ve heard stories, the way the primal omega brain surfaces even when you don’t want it to. You thought it was a bit of an overstatement, but now on the receiving end you can’t control your response to him and fear floods you. 

“You talk a lot for an unmated omega,” He looks disappointed. 

Something shrinks inside you. 

His fingers tighten, his body suddenly closer, “But we can fix that.” 

In a breath his hands push you backwards, your back suddenly cold against the mirrored wall of the practice room. Later, much later, you’ll discover that the reason your memory of this moment is patchy is a combination of your omega’s response to alpha tone and full dissociation. You’ll remember little pieces, quick sensations here and there. The same song still looping through the stereo, the sound of his deep inhale with his face pressed against your throat, the sharp pin pricks of his teeth as he seeks out the soft juncture of your neck and shoulder. The way your mind in one heaving breath both screams in rebellion and folds open in acceptance when he successfully locates your gland. 

You suddenly can’t hear right, can’t think right. All you know is his teeth. The hot feeling of breath. He smells like burnt, bitter oranges. He’s talking again, saying something that your conscious mind can’t register, but your omega does, and you stretch your neck long to give him the access he needs. 

And then you’re under. 

You’re dropping before you consciously register your brain entering a new, hazy middle space. It feels like being at the bottom of a deep pool, the sudden, immersive quiet. You understand that someone is talking to you, or around you, but all you can hear is the echoing tenor of an alpha, the words unclear, all cocooned in the water around you. 

There’s a bang somewhere but it feels far away, and you feel pin pricks against your throat. 

Minseok’s overwhelming acrid scent and heavy pressure against you is gone, the sudden loss of his weight leaving you off balance. You think you’re falling, or maybe you’ve already fallen. The world feels tilted, something hard and cold under your back. You smell something sharp and tangy, and there’s something loud in the room but you can’t understand it. Everything is white, bright and intrusive. 

Mingi’s face swims into your vision, and you feel his hands on your cheeks. It takes you a minute to understand anything, but he looks upset, stricken and his cheeks are tinged pink with panicked anger. You want to reach up, soothe his brow and see what’s wrong, but you can’t lift your hand. Don’t move an inch. 

“Jesus,” Mingi glances to his side, “he put her in subspace,” 

Someone responds, but it’s muffled to your ears. 

Mingi’s face darkens entirely, his hands leave you, “I’ll fucking kill him,” 

He’s gone. There’s a scuffle to your side, but you can’t turn your head, you want to, you just can’t. Tears bubble in your eyes, emotion pulsing through you and your breath is tight and thready in your throat. A sharp, whining sob bubbles from your lips. 

Warm rain swims through you, and Yunho’s there, sliding right into the spot Mingi left. His eyes dart over your face and then he looks to his side, his voice firm, “Calm down or get out of here, do you understand me? You’re scaring her,” 

There’s a long beat, noises to your side again but you can’t understand it. Your stomach flips nervously, the place you’re stuck in your head throbbing a sharp spike through your brain. 

Yunho’s warm, brown eyes settle back on yours, his face calm and easy, “Can you hear me, y/n?” 

You can, but you can’t make your mouth work. Don’t move an inch. 

“Can you hear me? y/n?” He asks again, his thumb brushing your cheek, “You’re safe, he’s not going to touch you again,” 

The hard feeling of Minseok’s hands on your hips pushing you into the practice room mirror snaps inside you and you release a soft sound. 

“You can hear me,” Yunho nods, “come on, wake up,” 

“Yunho,” Mingi’s voice is close again, hard and steady, “that’s not going to work,” 

“Why?” Yunho looks up to his friend, “she can hear me, she’s okay,” 

“She’s in subspace,” Mingi pushes his friend to the side, coming into your eye line, “she’s dropped so far under it’s going to take more than that,” 

“W-what do we do?” Yunho’s voice is shaky. 

“Let me try something,” Mingi murmurs, and then his eyes lock squarely on yours. 

Yunho slips his hand into yours, holding you tightly, but you can’t squeeze him back. 

“Omega,” Mingi’s voice is firm, and it’s the clearest thing you’ve heard since sinking under the water, “Come up now.” 

Don’t move an inch.

“You need to come up now,” His fingers tighten on your cheek, “listen to me.” 

Don’t move an inch. 

“Why isn’t this working?” Yunho asks, squeezing your fingers. 

“I’m not sure,” Mingi’s voice is low, and then he shifts closer to your face, “y/n. Omega. Listen to me now,” 

All you can do is manage to make a quiet, tight noise, and even to your muddled brain you can hear the tenor of distress. 

“Come up now,” Mingi repeats, “right now. Listen to me, omega.” 

You’re being torn in two, your primal brain fighting you every step of the way. 

He swallows hard, his voice dropping low in his chest, “Don’t disobey your alpha,”

Suddenly nothing but his voice exists. 

Mingi’s expression is cold, tight and ruthless, his rich tone cuts straight to your core, “When you’re given a directive, you follow it. Now,” He locks his hands on either side of your face and his next words are a pointed and perfectly clear command, “Come. Up.”  

The room is so much louder than you thought a moment ago. There’s shouting outside and you vaguely register San’s voice amongst the mix. The music from practice is still on low. Yunho’s leg is bouncing nervously, the athletic fabric making a rhythmic swish with every bob of his knee. You can hear your blood rushing in your ears. 

“I’m sorry,” You choke out, the first feeling that floods back into your body is intense shame.

“Oh my god,” Mingi’s expression crumbles and he pulls your limp body into his arms “you’re here? You’re with us?”

“M-Mingi,” Your vision clouds with tears again and every feeling that tried to course through your body while you were in subdrop crashes into you sideways.

“Shh,” He rocks you in his arms, “we’ve got you, we’re right here, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,”

A dull throb radiates through your skull and Yunho takes a sharp inhale, “She’s bleeding,”

“What?” Mingi pulls back, his hand searching your body.

“Here,” Yunho brushes the back of your hair, his fingers coming away with a small line of blood, “it’s not too bad,”

“What happened?” You reach for the cut at the back of your head, nervous tears coming up as you try to understand.

“You don’t remember?” Yunho asks.

“I’m,” You swallow hard, “it was practice? Or I was practicing? I had the room booked.”

“Yeah,” Yunho nods and squeezes your hand, “what else?”

The date. The hard set of Minseok’s jaw when you said no. His hands on your hips, his lips on your neck, the soft drag of his teeth and the flat of his tongue over your gland. Your shirt tearing when he hauled you up against the mirrors. Hands everywhere. Hands nowhere. The white ceiling. His voice, harsh and direct in your ears, the alpha tone unmistakable. Submit. Heel. Don’t move an inch. 

Your mouth is suddenly hot and watery, and your hands are shaking, “I’m… I’m going to be sick,”

“Shit,” Yunho moves fast, sliding across the floor to grab the wastebasket that sits under the desk, pushing it into your hands. 

You wretch instantly, shaking and heaving, losing the contents of your stomach into the plastic bin. 

“Okay,” Mingi soothes, gathering up your hair into one hand and holding it away from your face, “you’re okay,”

“He touched me,” Your hands won’t stop shaking, his voice flooding back, and you heave again, “the things he said,”

“Shh,” Yunho shifts closer, rubbing a hand up and down your back, “you’re safe. None of that is true,” 

“He talked to me like a dog,” You sob, “and I couldn’t move, he told me not to move and I just let him,”

“No.” Mingi’s voice is harsh and you twitch under his hands, “He used alpha tone on you, he wanted you to stop fighting and he said it in tone until you couldn’t hear anything else. You didn’t let him do anything,” 

“I’ve never,” You wretch again, a dry heave with nothing to give and it makes your eyes watery. 

“We’re right here,” Yunho murmurs, “you’re safe.”

When you’re sure your stomach will hold, you push the wastebasket away and drop back to the floor, your head throbbing, “I’ve never been in subspace,”

“You’re not there now,” Mingi soothes.

“I don’t remember,” You manage, looking down at your mussed clothes, “it’s so muddled I can’t remember,”

“What can’t you remember?” Yunho asks softly.

You’re pretty sure you’d register it if his attempt at claiming had been successful, if the word attempt should even be in consideration at all, but the end is so fuzzy you just have to know. “Did he… did we?”

“No.” Yunho’s firm, sliding in front of you so he can make you look into his eyes, “absolutely not,”

Your mouth tastes terrible, but it’s the overwhelming bitter smell of him on you that doubles it and makes you want to throw up again even though your stomach is empty. 

“All I can smell is him,” You scrub your hands under your eyes to wipe away tears, “I can’t even breathe,”

“Take her,” Mingi says, “I’m getting water,”

Yunho pulls you into his arms, sitting back against the mirrored wall for some support and cradling you to his chest, “Come here, is this okay?” 

“Make it go away,” You hold onto his shirt and sigh into his neck, “please, Yunho, please,”

“Just breathe,” He soothes you, “I have you,” 

He smooths his thumbs over the glands in your wrists, easing the initial panic inside you, and then gently draws your head back with his hand, “It’s only me,” He murmurs, “you know I’d never hurt you,” 

Yunho licks a long stripe up your neck, and instantly your body starts to release, tense muscles unlocking and your fingers falling slack. His scent washes over you, enveloping you tenderly. 

“Y-Yunho,” you shudder as he licks another long stripe, moving to suck softly on the fleshy part of your neck that narrowly avoided teeth marks.

“Yes?” He kisses your neck softly, and licks again. 

“Thank you for coming for me,” You exhale slowly.

He stills, sinking closer and resting his closed lips on your shoulder. When he breathes in you hear the catch of emotion, “I thought we were too late,”

“I’m okay,” You murmur, and it’s starting to feel true now that he’s washing away Minseok’s scent.

“God,” He sighs into your skin, “when I heard you scream… I’ve never heard anything that terrifying in my life, I’ve never run so fast,”

“Did I scream?” You don’t remember it.

“Bloody murder,” He nods, pulling back to look at your eyes.

“Yunho,” Your eyes flick up towards the open door of the practice studio, “where is he?”

His hands tighten on you, “Probably nursing his broken ribs. The guys have him,”

Your eyes widen, and the realization that he’s still under the same roof has you trembling in his arms, “He’s still here,”

“Not for long,” He murmurs, “we called the police,”

“But,” Your mind is spinning and you feel the weight of him on your chest once more, “what if he comes back?”

“y/n,” Yunho draws your eyes away from the door, “San and Seonghwa have him, and he’s in rough shape. He’s probably focused on trying to breathe, not thinking about you anymore. And even if none of that were true and he did come back,” he says, “I’d put him on the floor faster than you could blink. Mingi and I both would.”

Your muscles start to relax again, “Okay,”

“You are completely safe,”

Mingi reappears a few moments later, bottles of water in hand, and he smiles warmly, “Hey, you,”

“Hey,”

“Feeling a little better?” He asks, settling on the hard practice room floor and passing you an open bottle.

“I don’t know,” You murmur honestly, shifting in Yunho’s arms so that you’re resting on his lap with your back against his chest. You take a long drink of water and sigh. 

“Listen,” Mingi smooths a hand across your thigh, “the police are going to want to talk to you. They’ll be here within the hour and then we’ll go to the hospital.”

“Why?” You tense.

“Your head,” He nods.

“It’s stopped bleeding,” Yunho assures you, “but he’s right, you could have a concussion.”

“I don’t have a concussion,”

“I didn’t realize you had a medical degree,” Mingi says, a little edge to his voice.

Hot tears well in your eyes at his tone, and you shrink back into Yunho’s arms. You know rationally he didn’t mean to scare you, he’s just worried about you, but after the day you’ve had you can’t help but shrink back in fear.  

“Hey,” Yunho presses his lips to your neck, “it’s alright, Mingi didn’t mean it like that”

Mingi’s eyes blow wide, “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything,”

“I know,” You tip your head to the side to offer more of your throat to Yunho’s soothing touches, “I’m just not myself,”

“It’s okay,” Yunho says again, returning to your neck and peppering kisses across your gland, and something about this should feel intimate and awkward when you haven’t talked to them yet, but all you can feel is safe.

“Really,” Mingi reaches for you, but doesn’t touch you, “I just want you to let us help, and I’m so angry with Minseok I could kill him, but I didn’t mean to put that on you,”

“Mingi,” You take his outstretched hand, “I’m okay, you just startled me, and you’re right anyways. I’ll come to the hospital,”

He sighs in relief.

“After,” Yunho murmurs, “would you - I mean, will you please come home with us tonight?”

It’s strange how much you feel like it is home, despite only spending your heat there, months ago, so long ago now you shouldn’t still feel this preternatural pull. 

“I don’t know,” You say, even though your body is begging you to agree, to stay with them and only them. 

“I know it’s been different between us,” He murmurs, arms tightening around you, “but you know how I feel. I just don’t want you to be alone tonight, someone should be with you,” 

“Someone you feel safe with,” Mingi adds, “if that’s us,” 

“It is,” You lock your hand down on Mingi’s, “I’m sorry, this is… of course you’re safe, of course you are. I’m just,” 

“Let’s talk about this later,” Mingi smiles, shooting a look at Yunho you can’t quite make sense of, but brushing your fears to the side all the same, “for now, let’s just get you taken care of.” 

You shudder out a breath, letting the warmth and safety of their bodies sink into you. You turn into Yunho, resting your cheek on his chest and matching your breath in time to his. Your thoughts spin, bubbling over as threads of the incident come back to your mind and you press your eyes closed before the question slips out, “Why did he do it?” 

Yunho wraps his arms around you a little tighter, dropping his lips to your hair, “I don’t know,” 

Mingi clears his throat, “He’s about to hit his rut,” he says, “that’s what his excuse was. He said he’s… he kept saying how sorry he was, but,” 

Your eyes snap open, “Sorry? He’s sorry?” 

“Sorry someone interrupted him, maybe,” Mingi’s voice is hard, his eyes firm and unrelenting, “a rut doesn’t make you do that. Not like that.” 

Yunho shakes his head in agreement, “Definitely not,” 

You know that, of course you know it, but after seeing Minseok’s black eyes you’re not so sure. You had never felt completely comfortable with him, but in the past you would have chalked that up to personality differences, and in the past few weeks that had all started to change. He was the kind of guy you wouldn’t date, but you wouldn’t worry about bothering you. 

You sigh softly, “He didn’t seem like himself,” 

“Mm,” Mingi hums, non-committal. 

“A rut doesn’t make it impossible to hear the word no,�� Yunho says firmly, “you don’t become some mindless animal. What he tried to do… that’s… a rut’s an easy excuse.” 

You tense up in his arms, a brief flicker of what could have been. His teeth in your neck, your mind spinning into submission. 

“Yunho,” Mingi shakes his head at his best friend, glancing down at you to indicate that it’s not something you can hear right now. 

“I’m sorry,” Yunho soothes, holding you closer if it’s at all possible. 

Your chest tightens, “Can I… I need to get up,” 

His arms relax immediately, hands shifting under your elbows to help support you while Mingi jumps up and offers you his hands to pull you up. Back on your own two feet you waver a minute, but you shake off the dizzy spell and try to get your bearings again. They're waiting on a razor’s edge, hands out and ready to intervene, but you’ve made it clear that for the moment you don’t want to be touched. 

A shout from the hall leaves you jumping, but you register Wooyoung’s voice a moment later, “Where is she?” 

“The studio,” San’s voice replies, “slow down,” 

“Is he in the back office? Give me a fucking minute alone with him,” Wooyoung’s voice is murderous and you smile at how ready your best friend sounds to do battle on your behalf, “I’ll show him what an omega can fucking do,” 

“Youngie,” San’s voice is even and warm, keeping things soft, “you need to calm down,” 

“Calm down,” He scoffs, his voice getting closer as he travels down the hall and you know he’s almost at the door. 

“I hardly think y/n needs,” San starts to say, but then they round the corner. 

Wooyoung’s eyes are wild, searching and terrified, and something inside you shatters. San’s words die on his lips when he sees you, and in a startling moment of clarity you rush forwards and into Wooyoung’s arms. 

“Shh, shh,” He wraps you up tight, one hand at the back of your head as he rocks you back and forth, “you’re safe, you’re in one piece,” 

“Woo,” Tears come fast, and you bury your face in his chest. 

“Stupid fucking alphas,” He curses into your shoulder and you can hear his breath hitched and clouded with tears of his own, “acting like they can take whatever they want,” 

You’re sure the rest of the room is bristling at that comment but you couldn’t care less. 

“You want me to break the rest of his ribs?” He kisses your head, “I’ll make it look like a fucking accident, I swear to God,” 

“Woo,” You laugh into his chest, vision blurry with unshed tears, “stop, that’s insane,” 

“I am nothing if not a little insane,” Wooyoung squeezes you, “and you and me? We protect each other, right?” 

“Always,” You grip the back of his shirt like a lifeline. 

The bond between omegas can’t be understood by a single other person in the room, maybe even in the building. You cling to each other in the middle of the studio floor, encased in this moment of shared grief. Of what you are and what that means. He shifts you in his arms so he can look at your face, cupping your tear stained cheeks. 

The sight of his own tears makes yours come faster, “What did I do?” 

His expression hardens and he shakes his head, sucking in a harsh breath, “Nothing, not a single fucking thing. Do you hear me?” 

“Woo,” You want him to let you go. You want him to tug you close again. 

He shakes your shoulders hard, and in your periphery you see Mingi take a half step forward as Wooyoung pushes back on your words, “You didn’t do anything. You’re existing, and he tried to take advantage of that. This isn’t your fault, there’s nothing you could have or should have done.” 

You open your mouth to say something but he plows forward. 

“Alphas take, alright?” He shakes you again, more gently this time, “We’re lucky. You and me, we found good ones, but alphas are programmed to take, and we’re programmed to give. He used it against you. Nothing else.”

Your breath hitches, and you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him cradle you again. 

“Shh, shh,” He rubs your back, soothing you again. 

“I hate this,” You manage, your face buried in his shoulder. 

“I know,” He eases you, “I fucking hate it too,” 

You hold each other a little longer until both of your tears start to subside. You stay steady in his grip, his fresh salt and cotton scent lulling you into safety. The buzzing of your brain starts to release, and the fear is still there under your skin but at least for now it’s low and letting you breathe. 

Nuzzling into his shoulder you sigh, “What are you doing back here anyways?” 

“San called,” He kisses your hair, “I broke several laws getting here,” 

You laugh against his collarbone where his oversized t-shirt is pulled down, no doubt from the way your hands grip whatever part of him you can. 

He rubs a warm hand up and down your back and when he speaks again it’s not to you, this time he addresses the alphas in the room. He clears his throat softly, head lifting up and away from yours, “So, who busted his nose?” 

“Uh,” Yunho makes a small sound behind you, “that would be me,” 

“Good,” Wooyoung says, “when she stops crying I’m giving you a handshake,” 

You smile against his damp skin and shake your head, “I’m not crying, I’m fine,” 

“Sure,” Wooyoung murmurs, but he doesn’t let you go, just strokes your back more until you settle further into him. 

“The police will be here soon,” San murmurs, his voice staying relaxed and steady to make sure everything stays level in the room. 

“Right,” Wooyoung sighs, “y/n, can I let you go? I don't have to if you’re not ready,” 

You nod immediately though, unwinding your arms from him and taking a ginger step back. He gives you a soft smile, and you scrub the last of the tears from your face with the sleeves of your sweatshirt. He gives you a minute to stand steady and then turns to Yunho and Mingi who both look frozen and unsure of what to do or what to say. 

“You both got him off her?” He says, matter of fact. 

“Yeah,” Mingi’s voice is tight, like he had been choking back tears of his own, and Yunho simply nods. 

“Thank you,” Wooyoung tugs Mingi into a hug and squeezes him tight before shifting to Yunho to hug him too, “seriously,” 

Once they break apart, you’re left all in a haphazard circle, and you can feel all the eyes on you. It makes you so tired, dizzy, ready to be done and just crawl under a blanket for the rest of the week. In the back of your throat you still taste bitter orange. 

“Um,” Your voice comes out a little more scratchy than you want, and you clear your throat, letting everything fade. 

“What is it?” Yunho asks gently. 

You don’t know how to ask this, how to beg them to keep holding you together so you can just get through existing in this room. You sigh, the deep exhale making you dizzy again, and step towards him, “C-can I,” 

He opens his arms immediately, letting you close the space so he doesn’t assume your needs, but as you collide with him again he responds perfectly, scooping you up into his arms and letting you wrap your legs around his waist. He supports you with ease, an arm under your thighs and another situated high on your back. 

“Better?” He murmurs, smiling a little as you bury your head in his neck. 

You nod into his neck, and then you allow yourself one tiny moment of weakness, listening to your body and what it needs for once over your anxiety. You mumble it into his neck, but he hears you when you say, “Yunho?” 

“Yeah, baby?” His voice is so soft, quiet like he’s afraid of what you might say. 

You don’t miss the way Wooyoung’s eyebrows go high at the endearment, but you ignore him and focus instead on the man holding you up, together, in one solid piece. You lift your head so he hears you clearly, “Will you please take me home?” 

He goes still and turns his head just a little, “Your apartment or,” 

“Take me home with you,” You repeat, “I want to go home,” 

This will surely just make everything more muddled and foggy between the three of you tomorrow in the cold light of day, but you don’t care. Right now you just want to be home, in whatever form that means. 

He exhales low and shaky, “Alright,” he murmurs, kissing your throat softly to help calm your trembling, “I’ve got you, let’s go home,” 

A warm wide palm rests on the center of your back, and Mingi leans in close to catch your eyes, “y/n, can you look at me a second?” 

You pull your head up from the crook of Yunho’s neck where you’ve just been taking deep steady inhales of wet earth and meet his eyes. 

“Hey,” He smiles. 

Your eyes dart between him and Wooyoung, who seems suddenly ancy. “What?” You straighten up a little more in Yunho’s arms. 

“You can go wherever you want,” He starts off, “but do you want us to take you home, or would you feel more comfortable with Wooyoung? Or… Seonghwa, if… if that would be better for how you’re feeling,” 

Yunho tenses a little, his fingers tightening where he holds you, and you can feel him physically holding himself back from saying a single word, from begging you to come with them. 

You’ve made up your mind though, and within a second you’re shaking your head, “No, I want you,” 

Yunho relaxes, his lips returning to your throat and you sigh. 

“Then you have us,” Mingi assures you. 

The sound of the elevators in the hall stop you all cold though, and San holds up his hands, “I’ll go see, it’s probably the police,” 

The idea of talking to them suddenly makes you sick, and you’re sure it shows all over your face. 

“It’s going to be fine,” Wooyoung jumps back in, “don’t worry, we’ll be there the whole time.” 

You need this to be done. You grip down on Yunho’s shoulders, “I want to go home,” 

“I know,” Mingi nods. 

“Y-Yunho,” You’re scrambling a little in his arms, sudden panic swirling in your gut, and you twist to find his eyes, “please, get me out of here, please take me home,” 

You feel it the minute he chooses you over anything else, “Okay, alright,” 

“You need to talk to the cops,” Wooyoung shakes his head, trying to reason with you. 

You’re trembling in Yunho’s arms and he shakes his head, “She needs to go,” 

Mingi senses your heightened emotions too and you feel it when he moves closer, both of them shifting to protect you, “She can do this later,” 

“I don’t know that that’s such a good idea,” Wooyoung insists. 

“I couldn’t give a fuck,” Yunho grips you tighter, “we’re taking our girl home,” 

“Your-” Wooyoung scoffs when he hears the words, “fucking alphas,” 

“Who she wants to take her home,” Mingi points out, a distinct edge to his voice. 

“Stop arguing,” You beg them, hanging onto Yunho’s shoulders, “please, please,” 

“Fuck,” Yunho relaxes, stroking your back, “I’m sorry, of course we won’t, I’m sorry,” 

Mingi brushes his hand over the back of your head and Wooyoung gives you an apologetic face, his defensiveness over you is understandable, but he also knows how you feel about these men and you watch him choose to hold his tongue. 

A knock on the door brings you all back to the present, San handling the situation with more grace than any of you combined, “The police said that they can speak with you at the hospital and make it brief.” 

You exhale heavily and nod against Yunho, “Okay, fine,” 

“Are you sure?” Mingi strokes your cheek. 

“I just want to be done,” 

“Should we stay with you?” Yunho murmurs. 

“Please,” You grip his shoulders. 

“Alright,” He sighs, “Woo, could you… I’m sorry, can you grab her things? Let’s just try to make this quick for her,” 

Wooyoung clears his throat, his eyes never leaving yours, “Yeah, I got it,” 

“Uh,” San interrupts as you all try to gather your things, “Yunho, they want to talk to you first, they’re waiting in the back office,” 

“Oh,” 

“They have some questions,” San explains quietly, “but she she doesn’t need to be there for that,” 

“Right,” Yunho nods and then presses a kiss to your hair, “can I put you down, sweetheart?” 

Your chest warms. 

“No, here,” Mingi cuts in, his hand sweeping over your back and you feel them shift you from Yunho’s arms to his, “come here,” 

He settles you against his chest and you wrap around him just the same, soaking in the warm scent of cocoa and cinnamon. You let your eyes drift shut as you rest on his shoulder, “Hey, Mingi,” 

“Hey,” He says softly. 

“Thank you,” You sigh. 

“Mhm,” He rocks you a little as he takes your bags from Wooyoung and slings them over his shoulder, the combined weight of it and you not fazing him at all, “I told you once I’ll always be here, I meant it,” 

“I believe you,” You murmur into his throat. 

You rest here, Mingi’s thumb rubbing a comforting line over the back of your neck. 

“Time to go,” Wooyoung’s voice pipes back in, “there’s a car ready, Yunho will be there in a a few minutes,” 

“Alright,” Mingi presses a soft kiss to your hair, “here we go,” 

He carries you with ease, and you sink into the steady thump of his heart under your palm that’s keeping you grounded. Over his shoulder you watch Wooyoung walking with you and you see police officers down the hall. The door to the back office swings open and Yunho is leaning against the desk as he speaks with an officer. Seonghwa sits in a chair next to him, his head in his hands, blood coating his knuckles and the sleeves of his shirt. Something pulls in your gut, begging you to go to him, but then you’re outside and all you can feel is Mingi holding you as he ferries you into the car. 

“Do you need anything?” He asks as he settles you into the passenger seat 

“I don’t know,” You tell him honestly, letting your head drop back against the seat and taking a deep breath, eyes slipping closed. 

“Don’t fall asleep,” Wooyoung jumps forward, “keep your eyes open,” 

“I’m fine,” You tell him, but you still do what he asks. 

“Just in case,” Wooyoung presses, “you shouldn’t fuck with head injuries,” 

“He’s right,” Mingi murmurs, crouching next to you just outside the car, “and I’m sure you’re fine, but let’s just be sure, okay?” 

“Okay,” 

  A noise just past the two of them makes you jump. 

“It’s just Sannie,” Wooyoung assures you. 

You nod and Mingi takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. 

“Yunho’s almost done,” San announces, but he hurries to the car and leans in to check you, “doing okay?” 

“Yeah,” 

“Can you do something for me?” He cups your cheek to bring your eyes up to his. 

“Mhm,” You nod again. 

“I need you to just focus on us for a minute,” He moves to crouch next to Mingi, and then Wooyoung steps closer too, blocking out some of your peripheral vision. 

“Why?” You fight the urge to turn around. 

Red and blue lights flash in the car mirrors and you reflexively glance up at the rear view mirror, catching sight of an ambulance, and tension fills your stomach. 

San reaches up and catches your face again, “Hey, look at me,” 

You pull your eyes away, “Are they here for him?” 

“Yes,” San nods.

“Is he badly hurt?” Your mouth feels dry. 

There’s a pause and then Wooyoung sighs, “Don’t lie to her,” 

Mingi clears his throat softly, “He’s pretty busted up,” 

“Good,” You breathe. 

San smiles, taking your other hand in his and smoothing his thumb over your knuckles. The sound of the doors catches your attention again, and you resist the urge to turn around once again. San shakes his head a little, “Just keep looking at us,” 

“He really picked the wrong person to fuck with,” Wooyoung says, his hand resting warmly on your shoulder. 

An image of Seonghwa and his bloody knuckles flashes through your mind and your breath quickens, “Is Hwa okay?” 

Mingi’s brows draw together. 

“He’s fine,” San assures you immediately. 

“I saw blood,” You can’t articulate it exactly, the image is just static in your mind. 

“It’s not his blood,” San promises, “we’re all fine, Seonghwa is fine,” 

The sound of the ambulance doors swinging shut makes you jump. 

“Shh,” Mingi squeezes your hand, “you’re safe, you’re with me,” 

Everything in your body feels tense and stretched thin, but Mingi’s hand is solid in yours and you grip down on it, letting it tether you. 

You listen as the ambulance pulls away, your muscles unclenching one by one as the sound of the vehicle fades. 

“Woo,” You manage, “can you check on Hwa for me? And text me?” 

“Yeah,” He assures you, “I got you,” 

“Take a deep breath,” Mingi instructs you, “please, for me,” 

You take a long inhale and meet his eyes and he nods as you let the breath out low and slow through your nose. 

“Again, please,” He nods. 

You breathe again, the same steady pace, “I’m tired,” 

“It’s the adrenaline wearing off,” Mingi tells you, “but as soon as a doctor says you can sleep, you can rest,” 

“Okay,” You nod. 

San’s hand disconnects from yours and he starts to stand, “Yunho’s done,” 

You twist in your seat to see him, Wooyoung stepping out of the way, and you can see Yunho jogging towards the car, “Everything okay?” 

“Mhm,” Mingi keeps himself calm for you. 

“That took forever,” He says, “I’m sorry,” 

“It didn’t,” You shake your head, “don’t be sorry,” 

“You should go,” Wooyoung interrupts, “get her looked at,” 

You find your best friend’s eyes, “You’ll text me?” 

“Of course I will,” He nods, “but right now just focus on yourself. We’re all okay,” 

You nod, and your eyes feel heavy again already. You know they’ll be trying to keep you awake in the car at this rate. 

“Let’s go,” Mingi nods, “can I have my hand back for a minute?” He smiles at you. 

“Sorry,” You drop his hand, almost embarrassed at the way you’re clinging to him. 

“Go,” San ushers Yunho towards the driver’s side, “if you need anything, we’re here,” 

Before you know it everyone’s moving and your car door is shut. Yunho slides into the driver’s seat to your left and Mingi moves into the backseat behind you. 

You meet Wooyoung’s eyes through the window and he rests a hand over his chest. He mouths a simple message - I love you, okay?

You nod and the car starts to move, but you know he knows you love him too. 

Mingi shifts forwards in his seat as Yunho starts to drive, and his long arm reaches around to find your hand again. He laces your fingers together once and this time he doesn’t let go. 

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Later that night, the warm, rich scent of their apartment almost takes you out at the knees when you finally cross the threshold, so overwhelmingly comforting and enveloping that you want nothing more than to bury yourself inside the feeling for days. Mingi nearly runs into your back when you stop short in the entryway and Yunho’s watching you carefully as he hangs up your jackets. 

“What?” Mingi nudges you gently. 

There’s a million things to say. Things left unsaid after your last conversation, that fight you wish you could forget. The letter. All the things you were planning on confessing Saturday. The way you want so badly to erase today and just be with them. Every ounce of their soothing physicality after Minseok brings all your emotions up tenfold. Their tenderness almost chokes you. All the things you want to say are stuck in your throat. You need to get your head on straight. You need sleep. 

“Hey,” Yunho waves a hand in front of your dazed expression, “are you alright?” 

Not really. The hospital was long and awkward, seeing a glimpse of Minseok’s name on a hospital room door even worse, and the police had so many questions that all sounded fairly judgemental. Not to mention the probing questions from the hospital staff about your cycle and if you’re close to pre-heat. As if that matters at all. You settle for something a little less dire though, “I’m fine, sorry, it’s just been a while,” 

Yunho’s ears darken to a deep shade of pink and he nods. 

“You can sleep in my room,” Mingi offers, “like before. We can stay or not stay, it’s up to you.” 

“I’d like to be alone,” You tell them, “if that’s alright,” 

“Of course,” Mingi smooths a hand down your arm, “whatever you want.” 

“Um,” You sigh heavily, “honestly I’m exhausted. I think I might just shower and sleep as long as you don’t mind,” 

Yunho shakes his head, gesturing towards the hall, “Not at all, just… call if you need anything,” 

You start back towards the bathroom, your eyes down and away from them, but Mingi calls out, “You remember where everything is?” 

There’s no way you could forget, and you call back that you’re fine. You got it. You just need to be alone, alone is good, alone feels safe. 

In the shower you scrub your skin raw, spending extra time and attention on your glands even though it makes your skin there puffy and red, pinpricks of blood at the surface of your skin and lilac bruises surrounding every edge. It doesn’t matter how comforting their scents are, nothing is taking away the deep intent of Minseok’s mouth on your neck - and the bitter, burnt citrus smell takes ages to wash away. By the time you finish, you’re about ready to collapse. 

Mingi leaves you clothes again, folded neatly on his bed and ready for you. They’re nowhere to be seen, taking your plea for time alone seriously. He’s laid out a clean pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt, both fresh from the wash. The hoodie you had stolen during your heat lies next to it, and it’s a kind gesture, but suddenly you don’t want it. You want nothing. 

You toss the hoodie to the side and start to climb into the bed, but that smells so heavily of cinnamon spice that you can’t think straight. You had just gotten used to blissfully smelling nothing after your shower, and so you strip the bed entirely, discarding all of the pillows and blankets and sheets into the farthest corner of the room. 

The mattress is bare now, but once you turn the circulating fan off you fix the issue of the cold and his scent washing over you every time you try to close your eyes. You can still sense him, sense them, somewhere in the background, but here on the stripped bed in sterilized clothes with your skin rubbed raw, you can rest. 

You drift into sleep this way, your head clear. 

It doesn’t stay that way for long. 

You’re not sure how long you’re asleep before you wake in abject terror, but it must be at least a couple of hours with the sky outside pitch dark and the apartment completely quiet around you. It’s obvious you’re the only one awake, but your brain can’t quite process it right. All you feel is shaking fear and the echo of hands pressing you into the wall, fingers in your hair yanking your head to the side, teeth grazing against your throat. 

You scramble back, only to find the edge of the bed and you collapse off of it, ending up on the wood floor with your head spinning, Mingi’s bedside table lamp crashing down after you, a harsh flash of light pulsing through the room as the bulb breaks and gives one final dying flicker. 

The pleading whine that’s caught in your throat sounds like a trapped animal to your ears, the pounding of your heart threatening to break your chest, blood rushing through your ears like a train. You can’t grasp reality, everything feels hazy and disconnected. 

The door to your right bangs open, Yunho bleary and confused, but responding to your heightened state of fear within a moment. “Mingi!” He calls over his shoulder, “Mingi, get up right now,” 

There’s a faraway faint noise from the other room. 

Yunho skids to your side, careful not to touch you as he tries to meet your eyes in the dark, “Sweetheart, it’s just a nightmare.” 

Part of you knows that you’re awake, safe and home, and not trapped in subspace with a threatening hand in your hair, but you can’t quite grip back to reality. You stutter out a reply, “I-I can’t breathe,” 

“Mingi,” Yunho calls back over his shoulder again, “right now!”

“Please,” you whimper, part of your brain still lodged in the nightmare, “I can’t breathe,” Your hands cling onto the edge of the rug.

Mingi stumbles into the room now, half asleep but forced into consciousness and he’s shaking himself, catching up quickly, “What’s going on?” 

You hear him, but your body is stuck remembering and you feel like there’s a weight on your chest, pressing you down harder, “I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe,” you stutter. 

“Sweetheart,” Yunho comes closer now, his body curling around you carefully with his face directly at your side, “it’s a nightmare, you’re safe.” His arms loop around you gently, but stay open in case you need to move.

“I can’t,” you shake your head, images swimming before you. 

“You’re not there,” he tells you, “we’re home, you’re with us, me and Mingi,” 

You wheeze, trying to regulate your breath. 

“Get a light,” Yunho pleads suddenly to the dark room, and you can hear scrambling, “she can’t see where she is, get a light on.” 

Mingi trips over the discarded lamp on the floor, and fumbles back to the lightswitch on the wall near the door, searching for it with his hands but reluctant to tear his eyes away from you. Suddenly the room floods with the overhead light, a stark fluorescent glow, and the black spots across your vision start to clear.

“I have you, I have you,” Yunho repeats, holding you to him. 

Your hand searches blindly for Mingi on the other side of you and he collapses next to you both, taking your hand and moving in to cradle you from the opposite side, “Baby,” he murmurs, “look around, look where you are,” 

Yunho’s hand on your thigh grounds you, and then Mingi softly touches your jaw to draw your gaze to him, “Look at me,” 

Your eyes flick up. He looks tired, exhausted even, his hair a wayward haystack. You blink hard, “What happened to you?” 

“To me?” Mingi’s brow furrows and he glances up past you to Yunho. 

“You need sleep,” You manage. 

Mingi laughs sharply and cups your cheeks, “I’ll sleep later. Can you tell me where you are?” 

“Your place,” You manage, and you feel the nightmare receding back into your mind inch by precious inch, your breath steadying out. 

“Yeah,” He sighs, “Yeah, that’s right,” 

“I’m home with you,” You repeat, your fingers sinking into the plush rug beneath you. 

Yunho swallows hard, fixated on the way you’ve called their apartment home, not their home, for the third time tonight. You watch the flicker of recognition in his eyes, but he lets it pass and so do you. 

Tears well up in your eyes again and you sigh, “I’m sorry about your lamp,” 

“What?” Mingi’s brow furrows, “Who cares about that?” 

“Still,” You manage, “I’m such a mess right now,” 

“If you weren’t a mess I’d be more worried,” Yunho takes your hand in his, squeezing your fingers, “and you can take all the time you need to be a mess, we’re here.” 

You slump forwards onto his shoulder, “I’m… so tired,” 

“Let’s get you back to bed,” Yunho soothes, his voice soft. 

You nod, letting them both ease you up to your feet, but when they turn to the bed Mingi makes a soft, confused noise, “Where?” 

“Oh,” You gesture towards the corner where all his bedding is wrapped up in a ball, “I’m sorry I was just… it was too much,” 

Mingi’s jaw tightens, the muscles in his neck jumping as he swallows hard, and you know he’s holding down so much anger, that someone could have scared you enough that any alpha’s scent became overwhelming, that your fear might extend even to them. 

“Okay,” Yunho cuts in easily, “whatever you want,” 

He eases you back onto the mattress, but the idea that they might be gone again strikes a deep lance of panic through your stomach and you grasp his arm, “Don’t go,” 

“Are you sure?” He murmurs. 

“Please,” You insist, tugging his arm again. 

He eases down beside you, and Mingi crosses to the opposite side of the bed so he can follow suit, sidling up to your back but careful not to touch you until you make it clear that you want him to. You fold your arm underneath your head and rest yourself down, and when your hair shifts off your neck you hear Yunho’s sharp intake of breath at the sight of your tender gland. 

“Baby, what,” He reaches for you, fingertips hovering, “sweetheart, what did you do?” 

“I’m fine,” You murmur but when you feel fingers gently coast over the raw skin you hiss sharply in pain and both their hands pull back. 

“y/n,” Mingi’s voice is low, shaky, and he scoops up your arm to check your wrists, finding them as swollen and bruised, “oh my god,” 

“I know,” You murmur, letting your eyes drift shut. 

“This is not okay,” Mingi sounds pained, “you can’t hurt yourself like this,” 

“I’m okay, I promise,” 

“We could have helped,” Yunho insists, “we could have scented you again, both of us, or called Seonghwa, or something, anything,” 

“Seonghwa?” You start, but Mingi cuts you off as he pushes your hair further to the side to see more of your neck. 

He makes a tight noise with his tongue against his teeth, “These look tender, Yunho’s right,” 

“You scented me plenty,” You shake your head, letting your hair fall back into place, “but I promise, I’m okay,” 

Mingi wraps his arms around you from behind, tucking you close to his chest and dropping his head onto yours, “You’re scaring me,” he confesses into your hair. 

“I know,” You murmur, “but I wasn’t trying to hurt myself,” 

“And now?” Yunho asks softly. 

“I’m a little better,” You pull him closer, “I was overwhelmed earlier and… even you both I didn’t want, but now? I feel safer, clearer,” 

Yunho kisses your forehead, letting his lips linger as you all get your emotions back in check, “Okay,”  

“Can we stay just like this?” You nuzzle into him, pulling Mingi in closer behind you until you’re snuggled up so tight you might overheat . 

“I’ll be wherever you want,” Mingi wraps his hand around yours and tucks them into your chest.

Yunho murmurs his agreement softly and you nod, letting their heat soak into your body and releasing your tense muscles bit by bit. You were supposed to tell them how you felt already, you need to get it out in the open before things get too blurry again, but right now you have to let it go. 

Silence stretches between the three of you, their breathing even and low, and you’re not sure if they’re asleep or awake when you make your quiet plea in the dark but in a whisper you beg them to never, ever let you go again. At least for tonight, they hold you fast.

[just-wrting]

Secret Admirer

Title: Secret Admirer

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: You've been trying to figure out who keeps leaving you little notes and gifts. Despite everyone else knowing, you keep denying the obvious answer.

Word Count: 1721

Master List

A/N: This will probably be the only thing I write for Reid. I'm not super into him but when the List Randomizer spat out secret admirer I weirdly thought of him. I plan on trying to write a bunch of different characters from a bunch of different fandoms. Just whoever pops into my head I guess. Two will probably be posted Friday.

You aren’t sure when you noticed it. Maybe it was the fact that your desk was always clean. Maybe it was the little extra things that started to appear. Slowly but surely, you realized you had someone who was leaving you gifts and notes. You had a secret admirer.

Despite your efforts, no one on the team would say anything. For several weeks, you pressed the issue with the other BAU members, yet no one cracked. In fact, you were teased about being unable to figure it out. How could a member of the BAU not figure out their mystery admirer?

“Come on Garcia! I know you know. You have to tell me,” you plead with the tech genius. “You’ve literally been avoiding me. I know you know.”

She lets out a squeak before running to the safety of her lair. Morgan is giving you a smirk and shaking his head. Despite your scowl, he chooses to tease you.

“Come on, (L/N), can’t you figure it out? Who could be this mystery man leaving you gifts and fancy letters?” He laughs as he pokes the latest gift, a small stuffed version of your favorite animal.

“Hey, leave my new son out of this. What did he ever do to you?” you grumble, pulling it closer to you. “I didn’t even realize someone remembered such a little detail.”

“Maybe that means it’s been a long time crush.”

At that moment, Reid sets his bag down and takes a seat at his desk. You think you see Morgan’s grin get wider, but it’s hard to tell given how wide his smile usually is. It’s a picture perfect smile.

“That’s a relatively cute stuffed animal. I’ve actually been reading up on that one recently if you’d like to know more,” he offers. “Only if you’re interested of course.”

Reid gives you his charming boyish smile. It goes well with demeanor and you can’t help but find it cute.

“As long as you’re willing to leave out the creepy facts. I don’t even remember telling anyone my favorite animal,” you say with a smile. “Who would remember such a little detail?”

Morgan chimes back in, “Maybe someone with a perfect memory. Like what the kid has.”

You sigh. “Reid seems to like highly intelligent women with PhDs. I may be smart, but I’m not smart enough.”

Before anyone can protest, Hotch calls you all to the conference room for a case. While you’re sure Reid is nice enough to help whoever has a crush on you, you doubt you’d be his type. Maybe Reid is the perfect person to question about the mystery man.

—-

“Reid, (L/N), you two stay here and look through the papers,” Hotch orders before leaving the precinct.

You frown. What’s the point of having you here? Reid can read faster than you can. It’s almost like you’re just here for moral support in case he gets tired.

“Well now I feel useless,” you groan. “What am I even supposed to do?”

Reid doesn’t look up as he speaks. “Maybe today you’re our mascot. After all, mascots are supposed to be cute.”

You roll your eyes and try not to laugh. “Not all mascots are cute. Recognizable is definitely more important than cute. Besides, am I really that cute?

“I meant to say that compared to Morgan, you’re cute.” Reid buries his head further into the papers.

You ponder for a moment. “Well, you’ve got some charm. Morgan has the charm of he’s good with women so that’s why he gets hit on. Hotch is mature and a leader so that’s why women are into him. You’re cute though. You’ve got this soft sort of shyness that makes you adorable.”

You don’t catch Reid’s reply. His face is completely hidden behind various files. Maybe he’s just embarrassed, given that he’s always been a bit bad with taking compliments. That doesn’t stop you from thinking that it’s adorable.

“Speaking of your charms. I like the fact that you’ve got a good memory. You wouldn’t happen to know who’s got a crush on me, would you?”

He doesn’t look up. “I can pass along a message if you’d like.”

“Well then, I suppose you should tell this guy to ask me out. I can say for certain that if he’s this considerate, that he’s already got my interest.”

“I’ll do that,” he mumbles before handing you a file. “Take a look at this. I think I’ve found what we’ve been missing.”

—-

You peer into the lecture hall. It took some convincing, but you have successfully dragged J.J. to one of Lewis’ classes. You gesture vaguely into the room.

“See! That’s what normal Reid is. Dorky jokes, random facts, and the rambling on for ages is what makes him Reid. That’s not what he’s like around me anymore,” you hiss.

She makes a face and shakes her head. “So you have a different Reid? I don’t think he’s been replaced (L/N). Maybe you’re thinking about it too hard.”

You scoff. “No I’m not. Reid just seems so nervous around me. Did I do something? He barely looks at me anymore.”

With a shrug, she leads you away. “Have you tried asking him?”

You toss your empty coffee cup in a trash can. Part of you wants to throw up your hands and be done. Why is everyone treating this like it’s normal? No one is giving you any answers.

“Of course I have J.J. It would be weirder if I hadn’t. He clearly knows something about this secret admirer of mine, but won’t tell.”

J.J. pats your arm comfortingly. “Maybe it’s because he’s your secret admirer. Perhaps you need to ask him out.”

“Yeah sure. I’ll ask him out once I have the evidence that he’s the person leaving me these gifts.”

J.J. raises her eyebrows as she drinks from her coffee. Her face says she has other thoughts, but she won’t press the matter further. Your gut tells you to trust her, but you’d rather not make a fool of yourself. Sure, she knows Reid better than you do, but Reid can be difficult to read.

—-

After reading the latest note, you search your desk for your stapler. You’ve been stapling the date and time to each note before tucking it in your desk. However, it’s missing.

You let out a groan. This isn’t the first time it’s been in the wrong spot, and you’re sick of it. You opt to beg Garcia to look at the camera footage to see who’s been using it.

“Hey Garcia? Can you please pull up the footage of my desk this morning? Someone’s been using my stapler, and today they stole it,” you grumble with a scowl. “Whoever took it is going to get some very strong words.”

As she speeds through the footage, you watch the people who got there before you. At first, you see Reid pause at your desk and fiddle with something. You note that he’s the only person in the office at the time, but after he pulls away, you see your stapler still on the desk.

The next person to stop at your desk is Morgan. He pulls your stapler off your desk and staples his paperwork together as he heads to Hotch’s office. He never sets it back on your desk.

“Garcia? Can you please get my stapler from that idiot?”

She laughs. “Has he been using your stapler this whole time? He said there wasn’t any more in the supply room.”

You shake your head. “You like him so much, you can retrieve my stolen goods from him.”

Garcia nods. “I’m on it. You can count on me.”

You leave her to her planning. You don’t comment on the fact that Reid had been at your desk. If you ask her about it, she’ll just  leave you alone to go get your stapler. This is enough evidence for you though. It’s time to confront Reid.

Thankfully, he’s made his way to the conference room to look for something. You sneak in behind him and stand between him and the door.

“So, what did you need from my desk this morning?”

You watch him jump and spin around. He looks shocked, but quickly covers it up.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, (L/N).”

You frown. “I found out my stapler was missing. Garcia showed me the footage and before it went missing, you were at my desk. What did you do?”

Reid opens and closes his mouth a few times. He doesn’t look at you. His hands keep fiddling with whatever he’s holding.

“Forget about it, I’m sure there was just some trash leftover that you cleaned up.”

He swallows hard. “Yeah. I didn’t want you to have to worry about it.”

You give him a smile. “Thanks. Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you about something else. The others seem to think I’m just talking myself out of it, but I think I can't put it off any longer.”

You make your way towards him, your smile still plastered on your face. You can tell he’s even more nervous now.

“Reid, are you my secret admirer?”

This time, Reid looks you in the eyes. You hear his breath hitch in his throat.

“What if I am?”

You’re a bit taken aback. Despite the determination you had walking into this, you aren’t sure what to say.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Your voice is a whisper now. It feels like some sort of dream. It’s almost like if you talk too loud, this whole thing will shatter and you’ll be left in pieces.

“I didn’t think you’d like me back. Your type just didn’t seem to include me.”

Reid hesitantly pushes a strand of hair out of your face.

“You’re more my type than you realize.”

“Then do you want to get dinner tonight?”

Now you’re the one who's acting nervous. Your palms are sweaty. It’s more difficult to breathe. You can’t help but bite your lip.

“I’d like that. If you’re willing to get dinner with me.”

Reid leans down, and gives you a quick kiss. It barely lasts a second, but you can feel your skin heat up. When he pulls away, he stays close.

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

[kiestrokes]

Say My Name | Teaser | NSFW

Pairing: fratboy!Song Mingi x Reader/You/Yn Rating: NSFW. Mature (18+) Minors DNI.Genre: smut, fluff, mild angst. Warnings: consensual peer pressure, high school sweetheart breakups, college, frat boys, parties, everyone is 21 or older so no underage drinking among the main characters. Reminder this is just a wip teaser, and not the final product. Parts are subject to change in the end.

Sexually Explicit Content: eluding to an open relationship/poly!Wooyoung x Yunho x Reader nothing else for the teaser, but there will be an explicit smut scene so, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Summary: You and Yunho have been childhood best friends since your mothers grew up together, living in different towns but spending all the holidays together. The friendship has always been light and easy, never serious. Reconnecting in college and exploring each other in new ways. After a second breakup with your high school sweetheart, Yunho propositions you to break your dry spell with his new fraternity brother transfer and high school friend Song Mingi. How could you say no?

🗝️ Note: Because if I never post this teaser, I will never get this fic out. This is me, holding me, accountable. ANYWAY like so many of my fic ideas this was pushed lovingly forward by @chans-room. As I couldn't shut up about the Booty Werk Yunho/Woo dance. I did write it in part to wreck gift to @minisugakoobies they have a fratboy!Hongjoong fic you all should check out. Sunny and @minttangerines were kind enough to beta it for me when I felt stuck last month, and I have added some additional parts that I hope make the fic feel more well-rounded and substantial.

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted below.

Posting Date: 10/18/2023

You hadn’t added anyone new to your friend group since sophomore year when your childhood friend Yeosang had showed up at your University with Wooyoung. Which felt like forever ago but had only been three semesters. The two had taken their first semester abroad in the German exchange program.

Even then, none of your friends had ever had sex with just you. Sure, Wooyoung got drunk at parties and enjoyed making out with any of you that were willing and dancing dirty all over the sticky frat or sorority floors. 

Frat president Hongjoong was definitely not among the willing. He’d frozen up like a board when Wooyoung planted a sloppy kiss on him during his election celebration. 

Speaking of the devil, Kim Hongjoong was sauntering up to your table, with a wicked smile on his lips. Oh no. 

“Yunho told me you were finally single and ready to Mingle.” Hongjoong fixed you with a reading stare and challenging smirk. 

“HJ, not today.” You groan. 

He slides onto the table top, “no not today, but next Friday.” He plucks a fry from your dwindling order. 

You naw on your bottom lip, as Yunho approaches with Seonghwa. It seemed Hongjoong had escaped them in order to harass you first. 

“Are they coming?” Seonghwa asked excitedly, slipping his black hoodie off one shoulder to expose a black tank top below. 

You look up and right into the puppy dog eyes of Yunho, “We have another surprise for you.”

Wooyoung squeezes your elbow and with the deepest sigh you consent. 

“Fine, I’ll be there and Yeosang will too.”

“What?” Yeosang’s head whips to you from where he was slipping into the bench beside Wooyoung. 

“I’ll explain later.” Wooyoung taps his arm as Yeosang continues to bounce a confused stare from you to the frat boys across from you. 

“Lovely!” Hongjoong claps his hands together excitedly, like the mad magician he is. 

© COPYRIGHT 2021 - 2024 by kiestrokes All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be reproduced without written permission from the author. This includes translations.

[merakiui]

i've been thinking about the halloween kids.... AU more or less along the lines of your poly universe: you and Rollo are university students, studying law together. you meet ernesto and gino through an advert on the internet: you're looking to live together and split the rent and ernesto has an advert that he rents out three rooms. probably the only property worthy of fellow was a big house, maybe five or six rooms, which he won by gambling and decided to rent out as essential income when he couldn't scam anyone. you and Rollo move in. today you are in your third year and he is in his fifth year when fellow finally manages to rent the other room to a third party: skully J. Graves, a young literature student. you've known rollo and fellow for over a year now, skully is the poor new kid in the dynamic 😖😖😖😖 ernesto and you make jokes about how you and rollo will be the corrupt ones in the law who will help him get out of jail or keep him out. rollo snorts, gino laughs and skully suddenly comes out with a torrent of words for a poem or a comic strip, inspired by an inside joke.

Rollo: strict study sessions at least twice from friday to sunday. he leaves you your third grade notes. it annoys him to see you on your mobile phone, watching some shitty series instead of studying. at some point he's scolding you for your carelessness and grabs his handkerchief, suddenly he shuts up. fellow! that fool confused the washes and washed his handkerchief with your clothes! now it smells like your perfume...! you tease that now he's going to masturbate with his cloth as it smells like you and rollo gets indignant. 'as if i even need that with how disgusting and impurely bitchy you can be...' you are a shameless slut in rollo's eyes at times oero, fuck, sinl be a hypocrite who loves to let his frustration die in your pussy. make out session and sloppy sex on the desk as dead time between studies, before flamme takes your phone and forces you to study.

Ernesto: oh yes, you and the young man are much more learned scholars than him and his poor brother! but, darling, haven't you been through the school of life...? knowing how to survive in this world during the bad times, taking advantage of fools, that's where Honest John beats you! sure, he could teach you to take a little more advantage of the people around you... a smart, lovable person like you should never be afraid of other people's tricks! yes, he's conned you on a couple of occasions, but he's just teaching you! oh, he's no prouder than when you reach his level of cheating... he encourages you to skip class every now and then.

- 'your friend rollo already went through everything they teach you! he'll tell you everything you need to know about today later. why don't you stay at home...?'

- 'you're a terrible influence on darling, fox.'

- 'I'm only looking out for the best for the young people under my roof!'

so you end up extorting people with him and, as a reward for your good work, with your breasts smashed against the counter of his shop, your ass up and Ernesto fucking your hole.

Skully: he still doesn't quite understand how this poly works. he has no problem getting involved with the wonderful Ernesto and Rollo! but they just cringe at the idea. he rambles on about how you're the only one who's technically in a poly if you're the only one involved with the three. He shows you the essays he writes for college. You lean over to read on his laptop and suddenly his pale face takes on colour behind you, his cick twitching hard at the sight of your ass in shorts.. As you give him head or he fingers you, he sweetly recites all the (erotic) poetry you've inspired. One day after a big exam you're in a great mood because you passed and you start praising Rollo and Fellow and Skully, rambling about how they've helped you get so far in the race. flamme looks at ernesto with a face like 'that's his thing' and he grimaces. he didn't teach you that kind of talk! I mean, he did teach you some talk, but it's convenient! praising people, gold beaks, silver tongues, being a ball... skully's in tears. you're picking up on his tricks! does that mean he can officially make love to you in front of his parents' painting to introduce you as his girlfriend?

- pomefiore 💷 anon

👁 👁 AAAA THESE ARE SUCH DELICIOUS THOUGHTS!!!! The different dynamics you have with each of them,,, orz Fellow convincing you to skip classes,,, fucking in between study breaks with Rollo, and Skully being a hopeless romantic who yearns for you in his erotic poetry and also whenever he sees you in particularly appealing positions or clothing....... it's all so scrumptious.

They're all such losers. <3 I adore them!!! OTL the way Skully is the only one willing to compromise and share while Fellow and Rollo occasionally bicker..... one day they'll all get along, and if not then at least you're there to act as a pacifying force. ^^;;; something something the wonders of good hole and friendship hehe.

[daisynik7]

In Between

Pairing: Eren x f!reader x Reiner

Genre: college au, one-shot

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: ~4.5k

cw: threesome, cunnilingus, nipple play, blow job, vaginal sex (doggy), creampie, horny reader (I mean, who isn’t), pet names, use of the term ‘big brother’, but there is no actual incest here I swear and I’m so sorry. This is just filth. 

Summary: Your “big brothers” from Alpha Tau fraternity take care of you for a night. 

Notes: OKAY, so I’ve had this in the back of my mind for a while now. Fun fact for those of you who have read my other series Rush: I originally wanted to make it an Eren x f!reader x Reiner fic but was intimidated about writing a love triangle, so I axed it. Instead, here’s porn with little plot to satisfy this itch. Enjoy! Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated, I would LOVE to hear what y’all think! 

Additional Notes: This might be the smuttiest one I’ve written so far, idk, you be the judge. As always, READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. Also, think of this as an alternate universe to Rush, I’m using a lot of details from it, but there is no correlation. Okay, I’m done talking, have fun.

It’s a Sunday night and Sigma Nu Kappa begins their first chapter meeting of the spring semester. Petra Ral, your sorority’s social chair, stands at the podium, a delighted smile on her face. “Good evening, sisters! I have very exciting news: Alpha Tau has agreed to pair with us this semester! This means we’ll be joining them to collaborate on charity events and most importantly, social gatherings.”

There’s a collection of giggles and pleased hums. Mikasa, your big sister and best friend, nudges you. “This should be fun.”

Although the two of you are the same age, Mikasa rushed SNK as a freshman, you joined as a sophomore this past fall. She picked you to be her “little sister” when you were a pledge, adopting you into her family line called The Angels. Since then, the two of you have been inseparable. 

Petra continues. “A neat thing we’ll be doing is combining families! We’ll be assigning each of our family lines to one in Alpha Tau. Consider them your ‘big brothers’. FYI, these were assigned at random.” 

She passes a stack of papers to each row. When you get yours, you try to find which family you’re being paired with. Before you can, Mikasa scoffs. “Of course.”

Next to The Angels is The Warriors. You turn to her with a questioning look. “The Warriors?”

“Guess who?”

You pause to think, then answer, “Eren?”

“Yup. Random my ass,” she jokes. 

Eren is Mikasa’s actual brother, older by a year. You’ve never met him in person, but you’ve heard plenty of stories about him from her. Petra notices her reaction and grins. “Okay, maybe yours is not so random. It just makes sense!” 

“So, what are we supposed to do with our assigned family?”

“It’s just for fun. It’s a nice way to get to know the brothers and build a strong connection with them. They’ll look out for you and take care of you, especially at the parties.” 

Since joining last semester, you haven’t properly bonded with anyone in the other organizations, too busy acclimating to sorority life as a new member. Now, with a bit more exposure to Greek Life, it’s time to build your own relations, make new friends. Maybe even find a boyfriend. It’s been a while since you’ve had sex, and you find yourself desperate for it. This new partnership with Alpha Tau is a good opportunity to find potential candidates. 

And, with the help of your new big brothers, you might be able to achieve this.  

~~~

The first exchange between Sigma Nu Kappa and Alpha Tau happens on Friday night, inside the fraternity house. The theme for the party is Game Day. Everyone is required to wear a sports jersey of some kind. You and Mikasa come in oversized basketball jerseys paired with black bicycle shorts. When you arrive to the house, it’s packed with your sisters and Alpha Tau brothers. Immediately, your big sis leads you into the kitchen where the drinks are. 

You help yourself to a serving of Jungle Juice, the common frat party concoction. Mikasa, already on her second, mentions, “I texted Eren. He’s finishing a game of beer pong with Reiner, so they should be meeting us soon.”

You chug the rest of your drink, excited to finally meet The Warriors. Several minutes pass, in which you spend time chatting with your sisters and refilling on more Jungle Juice. You turn around once you hear Mikasa yell, “Finally!”

In front of her are two well-built men, one with dark, brown hair wrapped in a stylishly messy man-bun, wearing a sleeveless jersey, showing off his tone arms. The other has a shorter, blonde cut, standing a few inches taller in a football jersey, displaying his broad shoulders. 

“Sorry, the game went longer than expected. Neither of us could sink a shot,” the brunette explains. You assume this is Eren, based on family pics Mikasa has shown you. “So, where’s our new little sis?”

You step towards them, hovering beside Mikasa to introduce yourself. They both smile at you, shaking your hand. “Welcome to the family.”

You exchange small talk, asking the standard questions to break the ice. Reiner, Eren’s big brother in the fraternity, is a senior, scheduled to graduate this spring with his bachelors in psychology. He hopes to eventually become a therapist. Eren is a junior, majoring in education to become an elementary school teacher. You were expecting them to be intimidating and arrogant, the stereotypical frat boys. Lucky for you, they are surprisingly easy to talk to.

In the midst of your conversation, Mikasa checks her phone and announces, “Jean just got here. I’m going to hang out with him for a bit, is that cool?” She seems to be directing it at you, specifically. 

“Don’t worry, Mikasa,” Eren says. “We’ll take care of her. Right, Reiner?” 

He nudges his big brother, who smirks. “Yeah, we’ll take care of her, alright.”

As soon as Mikasa leaves to hang out with her boyfriend, the energy shifts. Maybe it’s your imagination, but there’s a different vibe being alone with your new brothers. They have polite expressions on their faces, but behind it is something…sinister? Wicked? Naughty?

You refill with more liquor, your nerves getting the best of you now that Mikasa is no longer there to protect you. Before you tip the drink into your mouth, Reiner intercepts and covers the lid with his palm, stopping you. “Don’t drink that anymore. All that Jungle Juice will give you a hangover. Let’s take shots instead.”

“Yeah, we got some vodka in the fridge.” Eren opens the door to the refrigerator, reaching in to retrieve a brand-new bottle of Grey Goose. “Big brother here works for the Psych department so he can afford top shelf.”

“Yeah right, like you can’t afford it with daddy’s money,” Reiner retorts. “Did you know his dad is a doctor?”

You nod. “Yeah, Mikasa has mentioned that.”

“I’m not getting a cent after undergrad, though. He’s pretty disappointed that I’d rather be a teacher than take over his practice. At least Zeke’s going to do it.”

“That’s your half-brother?” you ask. Mikasa’s briefing of her adopted family, the Jaeger clan, is coming in handy.

“Yup,” he confirms, pouring the liquor into three cups, poorly estimating a shot’s worth in each.

“Being a teacher is just as important a job as a doctor,” you comment. “Maybe even more, considering the impact you make on the students. It’s a crime how underpaid they are. That’s my opinion.”

He offers you the shot with a small smile, watching you carefully. “What other opinions do you have?”

“Huh?”

“I’m sure you have lots of opinions in that pretty head of yours.” He passes the third cup to Reiner without taking his eyes off you. 

You’re unsure what to make of his comment, so you don’t respond, pretending to be fixated on consuming the shot. The buzz is starting to kick in, cheeks warm, head pleasantly airy, inhibitions loosening the slightest bit. Luckily, you’re being taken care of by your big brothers so that you don’t do anything reckless tonight.

The other two throw back the alcohol easily, Eren quick to refill their cups. He waves the bottle at you. “Want another?”

You refuse. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Can’t hold your liquor?” Reiner asks, moving to stand next you at the counter. 

“I know my limits.” You lean into him, comfy against his large physique. You play with the hem of your jersey, observing the other party goers in the living room, dancing to the music blasting through the speakers. Mikasa and Jean are nowhere to be seen, most likely doing it in his room upstairs. You spot a few of your other sisters dancing alongside the Alpha Tau brothers, having a grand old time.

“Should we dance?” you suggest, hoping they agree. You want to join in on the fun. 

Eren chuckles. “Reiner doesn’t dance.”

He stands up straight, setting his cup down. “That’s not true. I can dance.”

“I didn’t say you can’t dance, I said that you don’t. I have never, ever seen you dance, dude.”

With a mischievous grin, he looks at you and says, “Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

In an instant, Reiner is leading you to the living room, Eren following close behind. It’s crowded, the small space not accommodating for the size of this party. The three of you squeeze in the middle, surrounded by other warm bodies, too intoxicated to care about being smushed. Someone shuts the lights off and only a dinky strobe illuminates the room. You start moving to the music, bobbing your head back and forth, swaying your shoulders to the melody of whatever top hit is playing. Eren is in front of you, copying your motions, a lazy smile on his face. Reiner is to your rear, close enough that you feel the fabric of his jersey brush against you. 

Eren leans forward, lips grazing your ear. “You’re so pretty, you know that?” He shuffles closer to you, still dancing to the music. 

From behind, Reiner drifts towards you, hands at your waist, his husky voice hot on your other ear. “You look so good dancing like this.”

It’s sweltering now; from the lack of air in the cramped capacity, the alcohol taking its effect, the swing of your hips in tandem with the bass. Or the situation you currently find yourself in, sandwiched by two extremely attractive men, breathing compliments in your ear, exploring your body. They trap you, Eren’s chest basically pressed to yours, your back flat against Reiner. His hands are still at your sides, while Eren reaches for your nape, pulling you in to kiss along your neck. 

You should stop it. That’s what you should do. Whatever this is, it’s wrong. These are supposed to be your quote unquote big brothers. What would Mikasa think? 

But something snaps in you. It’s curiosity. The need to know. What would it be like to be fucked senseless by them? It has your imagination running wild. How can you deny this opportunity? It’s basically being served to you on a silver platter.

“Let your big brothers take care of you,” Reiner whispers, nipping at your ear lobe, grinding his hips on your ass. It’s so wrong. So wrong, you keep chanting in your head. 

Eren fondles your breasts through your clothes. “You want to feel good tonight, right baby? We can help you feel good.”

Is it the pet name that pushes you over the edge? Or is it the allure of being pleasured by two guys at the same time? Either way, you reach behind you to run your fingers through Reiner’s hair while you take your other hand to tug Eren forward into a sloppy kiss. 

“Fuck, I think she wants it,” Reiner murmurs, licking a stripe behind your ear. “Let’s go.” 

“Follow us, baby. We’ll take care of you tonight.” Eren grabs your wrist, leading you upstairs to follow Reiner into his room. It doesn’t seem like he has a roommate, considering the beds are combined to create one that is nearly king-sized. Too busy inspecting the interior design of a typical frat boy, which so far consists of flattened boxes of beer packs hung up like posters and a large Alpha Tau flag strewn across one side of the wall, the sound of the door shutting loudly brings you to your senses. 

You’re very aware now that it’s the three of you, alone in this bedroom, air dense with sexual tension. Suddenly, you’re nervous. You’ve never had a threesome. It’s certainly been a fantasy of yours, but to experience it first-hand, you start having self-doubts if you can really go through with it. 

Eren, sensing your trepidation, puts his arm around you, rubbing your shoulder. “Hey, you okay? We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Reiner, who’s already sprawled out on the bed in his boxers, clothes promptly stripped off, adds, “Yeah. We can just chill here. It’s all good.”

They’re not pressuring you, which you appreciate. You’re hesitant, sure. But you haven’t changed your mind. You want this. You want this bad.  

“I want to do it,” you state, removing your shorts and tossing them aside. 

Reiner laughs, sitting up to watch you, shoving his own boxers off. “You’re eager. She’s eager, Eren.”

“Yeah, she is,” Eren muses, tugging at your wrist. “Let’s go to the bed, sweetie.”

Reiner scoots over to make room for you, palming his growing erection, watching Eren strip you nude. When you’re naked, you turn to Reiner to kiss him. He smiles before shoving his tongue into your mouth.

“Lay down for us, baby,” Eren purrs, now naked, boner stiff against his sculpted abs, kissing your stomach. He peers up at you with twinkling eyes, almost innocent, knowing for a fact he’s about to wreck your pussy apart.

Reiner lies beside you, cupping your cheek, large tongue working its way deep inside your mouth. His hand trails down to your chest, squeezing at your breast. “Do you like having your nipples played with?” he asks, lips glossy with spit.

You nod, eyes glancing at Eren, his head positioned between your legs, palms spreading your thighs wide, staring at your pussy already sticky with arousal. Reiner refocuses your gaze on him, muttering, “Pay attention to me, princess.” Another nod and you close your eyes, kissing him, enjoying the soft caress of his hands on your tits. 

Below you, Eren, the fucking menace that he is, doesn’t start slow. He wraps his lips around your clit, swishing his tongue against it until you’re whimpering from pleasure.

“Oh fuck, she likes that, Eren. Keep doing that. I want to see her come all over your face,” Reiner smirks, brushing his rough thumbs on your hardening nipples. He moves down, facing your chest, sucking on your breast until it’s hard and plump. “Fuck, your tits are amazing,” he rasps, flicking his tongue. 

Eren gives you a break, slowly licking your sensitive bud a few times before latching on once more. It’s almost too much, body instinctually jolting from his touch. You endure it, though; the sensation too divine to stop. 

“Finger her, Eren,” Reiner demands, as if reading your mind. The desire to be filled is overtaking everything else.

Tongue flat on your clit, he hums in the response, middle finger teasing your slick entrance before slipping inside, knuckle deep. Still, it’s not enough. Even Reiner knows it.

“Put another,” he growls, eyes focused on your pussy being wrecked as he continues to play with your tits. “Fill her up.”

Eren obeys, sliding his ring finger along with the middle, pumping his digits inside you. You’re a whining mess, unable to control the lewd sounds escaping your mouth. Drool leaks out from the corners of your lips, your tongue lolling out from being fucked out. Reiner chuckles, releasing you with a loud pop. “You’re a loud one, aren’t you? You need something in your mouth to keep you quiet.” He grazes your tongue with his thumb, staring at you hungrily. “Suck on these like they’re my dick.”

All you can do is nod dumbly, grabbing at his thick wrist to stick his three middle fingers down your throat. He pumps them into your mouth as he suckles at your nipples, like an animal desperate for milk.

You’re overstimulated, from having your mouth and pussy stuffed, to your most erogenous zones being consumed by lips and teeth. Your toes curl from the pleasure, throat dry from the endless moaning around Reiner’s rough digits, skin damp with sweat and saliva. The orgasm hits you like a wave of electricity coursing through your veins, exciting every nerve in your body. You whimper on Reiner’s fingers, tickling the back of your mouth, causing you to gag slightly. 

“Fuck,” Eren muffles below you, still lapping at your clit. The wet squelches sound even more lewd from your noticeable orgasm. He flicks his tongue on your sticky mess, smearing it over your puffy bud, repeating the action several times until he’s satisfied.

“Ah, Eren. Fuck,” you breath out, mouth relinquished from Reiner. He has been relentlessly working your tits, swollen and sore from his efforts. When he’s done, he slides back up the bed beside you.

“Look at the mess you made.” He grips at your chin, directing your gaze at Eren, who’s face is glistening, smirk coated in your shiny cum. 

“You did so good for us,” Eren says, crawling up the bed to join you on your other side. He gently pinches your tit, sucking on your neck. Reiner kisses you on the mouth, massaging the other breast. You grasp their hard cocks, stroking them simultaneously, resulting in both of them moaning. 

“Fuck, baby.”

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

“Fuck yeah, she’s such a good girl.”

“So fucking good for us.”

The three of you stay this way for a while, erections growing unbelievably stiff in your fists. One of their hands, at this point you’re not sure whose, is at your clit, tapping it and rubbing fast. You’re convinced that you can come like this if they let you. 

“Think she’s wet enough?” Reiner asks his brother.

“Yeah, she’s really fucking wet, dude. It’s going to feel so fucking good.” Eren answers. “Can you take it, sweetie? Can you take Reiner’s fat cock?”

“I can take it,” you breathe out, needy and aching to be filled again.

Reiner moves to the bottom of the bed. “Are you on the pill?” 

You nod, humming against Eren’s mouth, occupied with kissing him. 

“Good. I want to fuck you raw.”

“Come inside her, Reiner. Give her a fucking creampie,” Eren murmurs, kissing your forehead affectionately, despite the filthy words coming out of his mouth. The way they speak to each other, instructing one another on what obscene act to perform on you next, spurs you on. Makes you feel like you’re in fucking heat, ready to be bred. 

“You want my cum inside you, princess? Want me to fill up that tight cunt?” Reiner spits into his hand then strokes himself, teasing your slit with his tip. 

“Yes,” you respond, voice shaky.

“That’s not enough for him, cutie,” Eren whispers to you. He massages your clit gently as Reiner slides his cockhead up and down your folds. “He likes it when you beg for it.”

You’re too desperate to care about pride. You’re going to beg for this, no matter what. “Please, Reiner. Fuck me, please.”

“That’s more like it,” he grunts, stroking himself faster. “Get in front of her, Eren.”

Eren gives you one last smooch before sitting up and kneeling at the top of the bed, tossing a few pillows to the floor to make space. 

Reiner taps at your hips. “On your hands and knees, slut. And stick that ass up for me.” His voice is raspy, demeanor rougher than a few minutes ago. Something has taken over him; it’s his carnal desire to fuck you into the mattress. 

You do as your told, arching your back to give him a nice view of your pussy, wet and fluttering, ready for cock. Without warning, he smacks your ass cheek, laughing. “I’m going to fuck you so good. You have no fucking idea.”

Eren kneels in front of you, erect and oozing with precum. “You’re so cute, you know that? So pretty.” He caresses you delicately, thumb brushing against your cheekbone. “Can you suck my dick, baby? Pretty please?”

You’re beginning to understand the dynamic that’s going on here. Eren is sweet, tender, and considerate. Then there’s Reiner: rough, harsh, and greedy. Opposites of each other, working together to tear you to pieces, rip you into shreds. Two sides of the same coin. 

You wrap you fingers around Eren, leaning forward to spread the bead of precum along your lips like gloss. He smiles at you, still cupping your face. “So fucking pretty.” 

Reiner continues to tease you, gathering your slick onto his cockhead to rub it on your bud. “I’m going to fuck you now, princess. Let me take care of this pussy.” Aligned with your entrance, he slowly slides in, your walls stretching to adjust to his girth. You hear him suck in a breath behind you, cursing. “Fuck, you’re tight. Such a good girl.”

“You are a good girl.” Eren pushes past your lips. You take him into your salivating mouth, surrounding him with your wet heat, tongue tracing the prominent vein running along his shaft. “Our good girl. Our good fucking girl.”

You bob your head on his dick, further and further until he’s deep down your throat. You keep him there, swallowing around him, resisting the urge to gag on his cock. Through teary eyes, you peer up at him, looking for approval, wanting him to be proud of the way you take it. He meets your gaze, breathing heavily, eyes wild with lust, staring at your stuffed mouth. His kind disposition from earlier is crumbling; he caresses your cheeks tenderly, but his expression gives him away. Still, he stays still, hesitant to take control.

Reiner, however, is on a different level. He starts fucking you, pulling his cock out halfway only to slam it all the way back in, pace picking up gradually after each thrust. The force causes you to plunge further onto Eren, nose buried in his dark pubic hair, spit seeping from the corners of your mouth. Your muffled whimpers vibrate around him, causing him to moan from the sensation. 

“Fuck, you’re doing such a good job,” he praises, holding your head cautiously. 

Reiner holds you firmly at your hips, fucking you hard and fast, grunting. “Take my cock, princess. Take it like the fucking slut you are.”

You pull off of Eren just enough so that only his tip is engulfed by your mouth. With your fist jerking his shaft, you blow him, swirling your tongue on the slit. “Fuck, that’s it, baby. Feels so good. Gonna make me come.”

“Make Eren come,” Reiner huffs. “Make him nut in that slutty mouth.” He’s found your sweet spot, barely pulling out to hit it over and over. You’re soaked around him, convinced that your arousal is dripping onto the sheets, making a mess of his bed.

“I’m coming,” Eren warns, stomach tight, eyes shut. His warm cum shoots into the back of your throat as you suck him off, swallowing every drip. He slumps against the headboard, catching his breath. “Thank you, baby,” he murmurs, bowing down to kiss your puffy lips. “Thank you.” 

“I’m gonna come soon. Gonna fill you up with this load,” Reiner growls. Your ass smacks against his groin, his heavy balls tapping lightly onto your clit. You’re close to your second orgasm, but you need just a little bit more.

“Come here, Eren. Play with it while I fuck her.” It really is as if Reiner can read your thoughts, aware of exactly what you need to push you over the edge, get you closer to that peak. 

Eren crawls down the bed, kneeling beside you, hand reaching between your legs, finding your swollen bud. When he does, you cry out, “Ah! Fuck!”

They both laugh, Eren brutally rubbing it as he watches Reiner fuck you from behind. 

“Look how creamy it is. That’s all her. She fucking loves it.”

“Our pretty girl loves getting fucked.”

“Pinch her little clit. Make her come on my cock.”

Eren squeezes your clit gently between his thumb and forefinger. It’s too much. You let go, the orgasm so intense, you’re trembling, fists bunched in the bedsheets below you, whining in ecstasy. 

“Holy shit, I’m coming.” Reiner thrusts into you a few more times before his cock spurts inside you. 

“Fuck,” Eren swears, loosening his grip on you.

Reiner stays in you for several seconds, coming down from his high. He slowly pulls out, his cum and yours leaking out of your fluttering hole. They both breathe out a satisfied fuck, staring at the flow of cum dripping out of your slit. Someone, you’re not sure who, plants a smooch on your lower back. Most likely Eren, the more affectionate of the two. You lower your torso onto the bed, relaxing into the mattress, exhausted and satiated from the insanity that just occurred.

Once again, you find yourself sandwiched between them, both facing you, smiling. You turn on your back to stare up at the ceiling, glancing at each of them, unsure what to say.  

Eren is the first to break the silence. “Did you have fun, cutie?” He turns your head towards him, nuzzling his nose with yours.

“Yeah, I did,” you answer, grinning. “That was amazing.”

“You came so much, princess,” Reiner adds, chin grazing the skin of your shoulder, palm tracing languid circles on your breasts. Eren kisses you on the lips while Reiner works on your neck. The three of you stay like this until a phone starts ringing. 

“Shit, that’s probably Mikasa,” Eren mutters, breaking away. He hops off the bed to retrieve his phone on the other side of the room. Reiner quickly turns you toward him, taking this opportunity to kiss you passionately as his brother answers the phone. His arms are snug around you, cozy and comfortable in his warm embrace. 

You don’t pay attention to Eren’s conversation, focused instead on making out with Reiner. It ends as soon as Eren comes back into bed.

“What did Mikasa say?” you ask.

“She’s looking for us. Specifically, you. She’s worried.”

“About what?”

“Probably about us corrupting you,” Eren laughs, nestling his face into your neck.

“I guess she’s on to something,” Reiner responds, copying Eren. 

You snuggle them. “She doesn’t have to know about this. It’ll be our little secret.”

“You’re okay with sneaking around next time?”

“Next time?” In your head, you already decided this would be a one-time kind of deal. Not because you want it to be, but because you assumed they wouldn’t want to do this again. 

“You don’t seriously think this is the last time we’re doing this, do you? Baby, you’re too cute,” Eren says, grinning.

Reiner chuckles. “You’re stuck with us now, princess. You’re way too good to let go. Right, Eren?”

“Yeah. I think we’ll keep you for a while.”

End Notes: Happy birthday Eren!

[crypticreid]

KINKTOBER DAY FOUR

October 13 -- Virginity

masterlist

author's note: happy friday the 13th!! this is a behemoth, but it feels right to celebrate this day with a little bit of fireworks lol!! thank you to everyone who voted in the poll, I might do more of those throughout the month. thank you for reading and let me know if you want to be tagged! (also, because this took me so long, it isn't as tightly edited as my other work)

summary: To be completely honest, you're struggling a little bit with you new job at the BAU. Spencer is there to help. Oh, and maybe he can help you with a few other things too.

warnings: female reader, losing virginity, fingering, oral (female receiving), grinding, discussion about masturbation and mention of sex toys

word count: 6.9k (sorry? lol)

this is adut content. 18+ plus only. minors do not interact!

Morgan smiles up at you from his desk as you scramble into the bullpen. Garcia is leaning against his desk as she raises her eyebrows. You toss your go bag under your own desk and push your hair out of your face, trying to ignore the pair. 

“Rough night?” Morgan giggles, as he pushes the pencil he’s holding through his circled fingers suggestively. Garcia guffaws, but at least has the decency to playfully hit Morgan on the shoulder. 

“Can you two behave for like five minutes?” You groan and try to find your ID badge. You literally just had it to get into the BAU department, but now it has mysteriously disappeared. It isn’t on your desk or in any of your pockets, but you do find a couple crumpled up dollar bills that you toss onto your desk without thinking. 

The appearance of the bills causes Morgan to whistle. Emily walks over and sees the offending currency. “Damn, invite me next time!” She laughs. 

You roll your eyes and don’t reply. Instead, you pull up your go bag and start to empty it. Maybe you accidentally put your badge in one of the pockets, you rationalize.

“What is going on?” JJ asks with a small laugh, gesturing to the contents of your go bag now completely strewn across the desk. Clothing and toiletries clutter the surface and you know you look like a crazy person. And maybe you are crazy. No, you definitely are crazy. Anyone who does this job is absolutely batshit crazy. 

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. You are absolutely not going to have a mental breakdown at eight in the morning in the bullpen, and definitely not in front of fucking Derek Morgan. “I can’t find my badge.” You mutter and drop down to your knees to look under your chair and desk. 

You palm the dirty floor, but don’t find anything. Your friends stifle their laughter. “I would help you but this is not a crawl around on the floor kind of dress.” Penelope offers. 

“Gee, thanks.” You say to yourself. 

“Hey, has anyone seen –” Spencer stops in both his tracks and his sentence when he notices you on the floor. He swallows. “I found your ID badge. Over by the door. I think you dropped it.” 

“Wonder boy saves the day!” Morgan exclaims. 

Spencer finishes his trek over to you and offers a hand to help you up. You glance up at him, blushing slightly at the angle. Who would’ve thought you’d be on your knees in front of Dr. Reid? Okay, you’ve definitely thought about it, but your imagination didn’t normally make it happen inside Quantico and it absolutely never in front of your coworkers. 

“Sorry, my hands are kind of dirty. Uh, from the floor.” You confess and take his hand as you stand up. His hand is warm and soft, like really soft. Like you could easily fall asleep to him rubbing your back in mindless patterns. As soon as you’re on your feet you slip your hand out of his to avoid your mind adding more ammunition to your middle of the night imaginations about Spencer. 

“It’s okay.” 

“Thanks. For the badge… and –” you take the badge from his other hand and gesture meaninglessly between the two of you. 

“You’re welcome.” He smiles at you and you feel yourself redden deeper. 

“Alright, alright! Time for kiss and tell!” Penelope exclaims and you blink away from your eye contact with Reid. 

“What?” You whip your head around to her. 

Emily makes kissing noises and musses her hair. “You. And some mystery person. Last night. Clearly.” 

You turn toward her. “No. I wasn’t…” you start, your eyes flick over to Spencer as he walks toward his desk. “There’s no one.” 

JJ leans on your desk and raises her brows. “Then what were you doing last night?” 

You could not tell them the truth, but it was also impossible to lie to the best profilers in the country, so you give them a half truth. “Nothing. I just had a bad night.” You shrug and start to put your clothing back in your go bag, not bothering to fold it. 

The truth is that it had been a bad night because you were struggling with the job. You’d been hired ten months ago and the lack of sleep, the neverending cases, and having to constantly deal with the horrific things humans can do to one another was taking its toll on you. Yesterday had been a day off and you wanted to use it to catch up on sleep, but everytime you closed your eyes, the faces of the people you couldn’t save filtered in. You hadn’t been able to get a good night’s sleep since you started and it had caused a complete breakdown last night. You had pulled up Hotch’s contact information four times ready to quit, but you knew you couldn’t do it. You were here for a reason, you’d stick it out.  

Penelope hums. “Well, if it wasn’t a person… then it must’ve been alcohol.” 

“Or gambling.” Emily adds. 

You roll your eyes. “I don’t gamble.” 

“You should. It’s a lot of fun. I’ll play you in Blackjack.” Emily smiles. 

“Don’t play with her, she counts cards.” Reid murmurs absentmindedly as he reads over a file at his desk. 

“I do not!” 

Everyone laughs, but then the laughter dies away when Hotch comes out of his office. “Looks like no one gets to have fun for a couple of days.” Emily groans. 

On the flight home after the case, you’re seated across from Spencer. Everyone else is asleep or has headphones in, even Hotch is passed out on the couch, which is rare. You still can’t sleep, so you stare out the window into the darkness as you fly over Virgina. Spencer clears his throat and you roll your head to look at him. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. 

You allow a small smile to form on your lips. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

He swallows and puts the book in his hand down in his lap as he leans forward slightly. “I know we don’t know each other that well yet, but you don’t really seem like yourself lately. Are you sure you’re okay?” 

The sore achy feeling of wanting to cry but holding it in burns your throat. You cough softly.  “I’m okay, really. Just – having trouble sleeping.” You give just a little bit of information, hoping it assuages his curiosity. 

“Is it that mystery person keeping you up at night?” He asks point-blankly. 

Your mouth is agape and you snap it shut, “did you just make a joke?” 

“I tried to.” He smiles and you match his smile with your own. 

“There really isn’t anyone.” You shake your head. “I’ve never –” you almost let the rest of the sentence slip out, but stop yourself just in time. The lack of sleep is obviously affecting you more than you thought. 

“You’ve never what?” The way he moves his body forward in his seat makes your heart thrum in your chest. His body language is clear, even a rookie behavioral analyst could tell, he was prepared to listen to what you have to say. Not only that, but he actually cared. 

You bite the inside of your cheek before letting out a sigh. Before you answer, you lean closer toward him, “I’ve never had sex, actually.” 

His eyes widen and he clears his throat, “you’re a –” 

“Virgin,” you finish for him. “I’m not ashamed or embarrassed by it. And it isn’t like I’m saving it or anything. It just hasn’t happened yet.” You shrug. “In all honesty, part of me just wants to pick some random person and get it over with.” You let out a small breathy laugh in an attempt to make you feel less awkward. 

“Why haven’t you?” You meet his eyes. “I mean, just found a random person to get it over with?” 

One of your shoulders lifts in a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know. Like when I think about it, I realize that I’d rather have someone I trust, you know. Someone who would take care of me and not just see me as another notch on their bedpost. At least for the first time. And then after that, I’d feel more comfortable just going out and… you know.” 

“Notching up some bed posts.” He nods knowingly and you giggle. He smiles, you notice that he enjoys making you laugh. A lot of the time it seems like people are maybe laughing at him or about him, but not you. He’s never the butt of the joke for you. 

“Sure, Spencer.” You can’t help, but trail your eyes over him and contemplate the question that’s on the tip of your tongue. “How did you lose your virginity?” 

He doesn’t seem offended or shocked by your question. “In college.” 

You scoff, “weren’t you like twelve?” 

“During my undergrad, yes. But I have multiple PhDs.” 

“Of course, Doctor Reid.” 

He shifts in his seat. “I was twenty. She was, uh, we worked in the same lab. And had the same research advisor.” 

“So you two experimented on each other.” You joked. 

Spencer’s face flushed and you felt a pang deep in your stomach. “In a way, yes.” 

“I’m joking, Spencer.” He nods in understanding. “Were you like her boyfriend?” 

“No, we just –” 

“Hooked up.” You finish for him. 

“For a couple months, yeah.” 

Your mouth drops and you whisper, “you had a fuck buddy?” 

His blush deepens. “I don’t think we ever called each other that.” 

“What did you call her?” 

“I don’t know. We never talked about it. I finished my doctoral thesis before her.” He shrugs. 

“Wow, who knew.” 

“What?” 

“Morgan isn’t the only playa on the team.” You giggle and scrunch your nose, feeling the stress of the last few weeks dissipate from your shoulders. 

“I’m not…” he laughs and shakes his head. He glances out the window. “We’re landing soon.” He swallows and leans back in his seat. It was terrible, but you had a strong urge to step across to his seat and straddle his lap and kiss him until you were both breathless. You turn your gaze back to the window and try to force the image away. 

Your car wouldn’t start. You forcefully turned the key in the ignition again, and it sputtered and died. As you hit your steering wheel, you let out a frustrated noise and hit it again. You turn to grab your cell phone from your bag to call a tow truck and jump when you hear a knock on your driver’s side window. Spencer stands there apologetically, waving his hand with his closed mouth smile. 

He steps aside when you open the car door and get out. “Is everything okay?” 

“No.” You laugh bitterly. “My car won’t start and I need to get a tow.” You bite your lip, but can’t stop the tears that bubble over. 

Spencer freezes, but then reaches out and touches your shoulder lightly. “It’s okay.” For some reason his comfort makes you cry harder. “Oh, uh, here,” he mutters and pulls you into a full hug. He squeezes you tight against him and rubs your back as you cry into his chest. 

“I’m sorry, Spencer.” You blubber into his shirt. 

“No, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” 

“Is it?” You pull away from his chest to look in his eyes. “I’m failing at this job and –” 

“Woah, failing at this job?” He interrupts. “Who said that?” His brows furrow angrily. 

“No one.” You blink away the tears stuck in your eyelashes and Spencer reaches up and swipes away one that trails down your cheek. 

“You’re not failing. You’re excelling. You’re incredible. Truly, I mean that. I wouldn’t lie to you. I promise.” He swallows and you realize how close to his face you are, his hands wrapped around your back. 

You don’t stop yourself, even though you know you should, as you lean into him. His eyes flutter down to your lips, but he doesn’t pull away, so you keep going. Your lips touch his lightly, barely there before you back away. 

His hands tighten on you and pull you closer to him. He chases your lips with his and kisses you back, your own hands are on his chest and they twist into his shirt. You kiss him fervently, his hands traveling to your lower back, arching you into him. A moan escapes from the back of your throat and it breaks the spell. Spencer pulls away from the kiss. 

His lips are pink and shimmery and you want to kiss him again. Desperately. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs, his tongue slipping out and swiping across his bottom lip. 

“What for?” You blink. 

“Kissing you.” 

“I kissed you.” 

“I kissed you back.” 

“And you should do it again.” 

His eyes dart to your lips. He wants to, you can tell, but he stops himself. “We shouldn’t.” 

“Not here, at least.” You glance behind him and pray that the parking garage is completely empty. If your coworkers acted the way they did this morning about a nonexistent mystery person, you can only imagine their reactions if they saw you making out with Spencer. 

“It’s inappropriate.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“There’s paperwork.” 

“Not if we don’t tell anyone.” 

“That’s not how that works.” He laughs, you can feel the vibrations of the sound against his chest. 

“Do you always play by the rules, Dr. Reid?” 

He swallows harshly, you watch the movement of his Adam’s apple bob against the tight skin of his neck. “I’ll drive you home.” He deflects. 

You reach up on your toes and kiss him again. His hands spread on your back and press you against him and your hands pull him tighter to you, wrinkling his shirt. You hear footsteps and both of you step away from each other instantly, putting distance between your bodies. You turn your head to see a person you don’t recognize come into view from the other side of the parking garage. They don’t even glance in your direction. The hammering in your chest slows and you turn back to Spencer. He runs a hand through his hair. 

“Grab your bag.” He says with an authority that makes you spring into action quickly. Neither of you say anything as you follow him down the rows of agents’ cars to his car. He opens the passenger side for you, the vintage car creaks in protest. He closes the door and you watch from the rearview mirror as he walks around the back of the car toward the driver’s side, his hands in his pocket. 

He slides into the car seat and starts the car, it rumbles to life loudly. “I normally don’t even drive to work, just take public transportation. But I had an errand the other day.” He explains absentmindedly as he checks the rearview mirror and slowly backs out of the park spot. 

“It’s kismet.” 

“I always thought it was interesting that the English pilfered that word from the Turkish language. Considering words like fate and destiny already existed. Some etymologists attribute it to the rampant orientalism at the time. You know, like kismet was more mysterious or mystical or exciting than just simple fate.” He rambles and drives you out of the parking garage. A heady want begins to grow in your lower stomach. “And of course, the Turkish developed the word from an Arabic word meaning portion or lot. Which is fascinating.” 

“It is.” You say earnestly. 

He glances over at you sheepishly. “Sorry, I don’t mean to ramble.” 

“Don’t apologize. I like it.” 

His eyes are already back on the road, but you can see his cheeks redden in a slight blush. “Where do you live?” He asks and you tell him. It isn’t a long drive, well it isn’t this late at night. Your morning commute is a nightmare. He gives you a brief look, “why did you join the BAU?” 

You exhale a long breath before you answer. “I wanted to help people I guess. Which is so cliche, but it’s the truth. Like it isn’t even about putting bad guys away or whatever. I just want to make the world safer. For everyone.” You look over at him and he meets your gaze for a split second. 

“You are doing a good job.” He states. You shake your head. “I mean it. You are. You’re making a difference. You’re helping people.” 

“But how do you keep your head above water? I mean… how do you not let it beat you down?” 

“We have each other. And you focus on the good.” 

You sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, letting his words sink in. “Thanks, Spencer. For everything today.” 

He pulls into a parking spot in front of your apartment building. “I’ll walk you up.” 

You go to unbuckle your seatbelt, but it doesn’t budge. You try again, but again, nothing. 

“Oh, sometimes it sticks. Here,” he leans across the middle and reaches for your seatbelt buckle. His fingers graze the outside of your thigh and inhale sharply, electricity buzzing from the simplest of touches. He unbuckles you and you let the seat belt slide across your body, he doesn’t move away from you. He’s close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin, it enflames you. 

“Spencer,” you whisper and turn your head toward him. His eyes slowly trail down your face toward your lips and then back up to your eyes. You can’t take it, so you lean forward and kiss him again. Tentative at first, waiting for him to respond. He does, his hands pulling your face closer to his, deepening the kiss. When you feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip you open for him, let him explore and learn. You sigh into his mouth, your hands find their way to the back of his neck. 

He slips away from you, breathless, but starts to kiss down your jaw. He mutters your name against your skin. You feel the warmth of his kisses travel down your spine toward your core. 

“Come upstairs.” You sigh, when he bites lightly on a sensitive spot on your neck. 

“I can’t. I shouldn’t.” He pants against your skin. 

“I want you.” 

He groans, deep and frustrated, and moves to lean his forehead against yours, both of your heavy breathing intermingling and becoming one. “You shouldn’t want me.” 

“Why not? And don’t say the bullshit about us working together. I don’t care, Spencer. I trust you. I want you.” 

He backs his head away from your forehead so that he can look into your eyes, his thumb against your cheek brushes back and forth. “You trust me?” 

“With everything in me.” He kisses you again, softly, tenderly. 

“I’ll take care of you.” 

“I know.” You kiss him back and then pull away. He nods and you return it with a nod of your own. 

His tongue glides across his lip and he swallows. You blink and he’s moving out of his seat and already at the passenger side door before you can reach for the handle. He opens it quickly and helps you out. It’s old school, but it makes your heart stutter and start. When he takes your hand in his, it feels like two magnets being drawn together. He slams the car door shut and you lead him up to your apartment. 

Once you unlock your front door and guide him in, you shut the door and turn to look at him. You flick on the light. He stares at you and asks, “you’re sure?” 

“Positive.” You step toward him and reach out to slide your hands across his stomach and then land on his waist. “Do I have to kiss you first again, or –” you don’t have to finish your question before his lips are on yours. His kisses are not tentative or searching, they’re needy and impassioned. Before long, you’re clawing at his shirt, untucking it from his pants and then reaching up to undo his tie. 

He stops you as he breathes laboriously. “Wait, we should slow down.” 

You continue to work on his tie, perpetually crooked, but now just an obstacle to what you need desperately.  “I don’t wanna go slow.” 

He moans and you finally get his tie undone and whip it off. “No, we should.” 

Your fingers work deftly against his buttons, one at a time, and you look up at him. “I’m a virgin, but I’m not inexperienced. I’m not a delicate flower.” 

His expression changes, his eyes grow heavy and he quirks his jaw. “Not inexperienced?” 

“I’m not.” You almost sound like a petulant teenager. 

“How far?” 

“What?” 

“How far have you gotten?” Your hands stop almost halfway through the third to last button. You don’t answer. His voice deepens, gravely and sexy, “you’ve clearly kissed before.” You nod. “Have you had someone feel your breasts?” As he asks the question, his hand reaches up and caresses your breast. You lean into the touch. “Has anyone put their mouth on your breasts, marking you as theirs? Rolling your nipple between their teeth?” He inclines his head into the crook of your neck and presses a hot kiss there. “Have you ever had somebody's mouth on your clit?” 

Your breathing is sharp and jagged, but Spencer simply continues. “Would you let someone use their tongue to make you come? Or maybe even their fingers? Pump their fingers into until you're squirming?” 

“Spencer,” you plead. 

He continues to massage your breast as his other hand slips under your shirt and trails across your hips and stomach. “Or do you just mean that you’ve touched yourself? You’ve laid in bed and explored this beautiful body. Know just exactly how to make yourself shiver from your own fingers.” 

You’re almost overwhelmed by his touch, his lips on your skin, and his words, your head is spinning, but you’re also desperate for more. 

“We’re going to take it slow.” He informs you and it isn’t up for discussion. “Not because I think you’re a delicate flower.” He throws your own words back at you. “But because I want to take my time with you. I want to learn everything about your body. I want to touch every single inch of you with my hands. I want to make you come, I want to feel you come. Over and over again.” You’re practically shaking in his hands when his lips and teeth scrap across your jaw and to your lips. He takes them with his and you’re like clay on a potter’s wheel, malleable and completely at his will, waiting to be crafted into his masterpiece. 

“Do you want that?” He breathes on your lips. 

You somehow know instinctively that he wants a verbal confirmation, so you answer, “yes.” 

He continues to kiss you, deeply, almost like a starved man tasting his first bit of sustenance. You answer with your own fervency. His hand at your hip squeezes and pulls you tight against him and you feel his want against you. It makes you moan. You grind your body against him and his grip tights even more. 

“Bedroom. Where’s your bedroom?” He stutters, but doesn’t stop kissing you and you don’t stop either. Your hands are in his hair, pulling and twisting, holding him impossibly close to you. You didn’t know kissing could make you feel this way, simultaneously feverish and desperate, but also insatiable. You felt like you could kiss Spencer for a lifetime and never tire of it. He wasn’t close enough even though your bodies were pressed together, you needed more. The only thought in your brain is simply, more, more, more. 

He pulls away from you, both of you taking heaving breaths. His lips were perfectly pink, your body thrummed with the knowledge that you caused such a change in him. 

“Bedroom.” The single word went straight to your core. You take his hand and guide him to your bedroom. 

Once you turn on the light, he’s behind you, pressing into you. You can feel every part of him, and he kisses the back of your neck. He’s back to being soft and gentle. He brings his hands to your stomach and inches them under your shirt until he has your breasts in his hands. 

Your breasts feel heavy and logically you know why. Blood has rushed to them, just as it has rushed to your other erogenous zones, and it is sending a signal to your brain to release oxytocin. But you’re realizing that logic has no place in your head when Spencer’s hands and mouth are on you. Logic means nothing to you at this moment. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He compliments as he fondles your breasts, your head lolls back against his chest. He angles his head so he can kiss your cheek. “You distracted me that very first case you were on. Did you know that?” 

“No,” your eyes flutter shut when he moves down to kiss your jaw. 

“I thought you were so gorgeous. After the case, I went home to my apartment and touched myself as I imagined you. I felt so ashamed, I couldn’t even look you in the eyes the next morning.” 

Your mind wanders back to all those months ago. “I thought I had done something wrong,” you remember. 

“No, it was me. I was wrong. But I couldn’t stop. I mean you can feel what you do to me.” He was right, you could distinctly feel the effect you had on him. 

“I thought of you too.” You confess. 

“You did?” His voice is low and breathy and you nod. “In that bed.” He ticks his head to gesture toward it. “Tell me.” 

You feel yourself heat with blush. His thumbs brush across your nipples through your bra and your breath gets caught in your throat. You swallow and answer. “I would lie there, normally because I couldn’t sleep. And then I’d think about you. Your hands, I’d think about your hands.” 

“My hands?” He squeezes your breasts. 

You nod and answer simultaneously, “yes. I’d imagine them on my body, touching me.” He brushes your nipples again and you shiver. “And I’d slip my hand into my underwear, and rub my clit. Pretend it was you.” His hands abandon your breasts and slide around to your back. You step forward as he takes off your shirt and then unhooks your bra and helps you out of it. His hands on your hips turn you to face him. 

“I knew you were beautiful. But you’re perfect.” Your instinct is to feel self conscious under his gaze, but you push it away when you notice the admiration in his eyes.  

You reach for him and finish the job of unbuttoning his shirt and then peeling it off of him. “Fair is fair.” You say. He laughs, but his laugh dies in his throat when your nails scratch down his chest. 

Your hands explore his exposed chest and back, feeling the muscle move underneath soft skin, and he works to rid you of your pants. You use him for balance as you step out of your pants, but as soon as you're standing on two feet again, he backs you toward your bed. 

When the back of your legs hit the bed, you allow yourself to fall back onto it. He leans over you, your legs open for him and he kisses you again. Your hands continue their previous tour of his back, now feeling how his shoulder blades move when he grinds against you. 

The first time he does it, you throw your head back in a moan. Even though you have multiple layers of fabric between you, you can still feel the heat radiating through you. He does it again and you arch up to meet his movement. When he does it a third time your nails scratch down his back. 

He makes a low noise from the back of his throat and you know that your panties are soaked. His lips take a journey down your body, kissing and nipping at your clavicle, your chest, spending a significant amount of time on both of your breasts, and down your stomach. Your clawing at his back by the time his mouth meets the band of your underwear. 

“Look at you,” he whispers. His thumb rubs lightly at your clit over the fabric. Your thighs clench and he laughs. “Keep them open for me, baby.” You mewl at the pet name. “You like that? Being called baby?” 

“Yes.” You groan out when his thumb repeats his earlier action. 

He does it again, almost unbearably slow. “I want to taste you so bad. I’ve wanted to know how good you taste for so long.” His voice is strained. 

“You can. I want you to.” 

His hands skate up to the hem of your underwear and you lift your hips slightly as he pulls them down. You open your legs for him again and he swallows. “Stunning.” His mouth is on you before you have time to process the word. 

Almost instantly, he moans against you, the vibrations causing your toes to curl. Your hands clench your duvet and he pulls away for a split second, “touch me.” You do what he asks, coiling your fingers into his hair. He laps at your clit, creating a pattern and rhythm that makes your buck up to meet him. His hands grip at your hips and hold you in place. 

“Spencer, oh fuck,” you ramble. He answers by moaning against you again and then sucking your clit into his lips. You bite down a scream. The heat at the base of your spine spreads across your body. “Oh my god. Oh god.” 

He alternates between lapping and sucking at your sensitive bud, your nails practically digging into his scalp, your toes curling, as you try to catch your breath. Just at the moment where it feels like too much, your body clenches and crashes over the edge of your ecstacy, his name falling from your lips repeatedly. 

He continues to lap at you softly until your muscles relax in his arms and then he looks up at you, smiling and his lips glistening, “you’re incredible.” You pull him up, so that you can kiss him. You kiss the taste of you off his lips. He brings his head up to look at you, pushes away the stray hairs stuck to your forehead. “Are you going to get sick of me calling you beautiful?” He smiles. 

“No, I don’t think I could.” He smiles into another kiss. His hands travel down your body and as soon as one of his fingers slides across your folds, the flames reignite. 

“Is this okay?” He asks. “I want all of you.” One of his fingers slips inside of you and then he pulls it out. He slides it back in and then repeats his action, starting slow and building up to a comfortable tempo, as he continues to kiss you. Nothing about his movements is frantic, but rather languid and relaxed, gently stoking the growing fire inside of you. You grind your hips against his finger and he smoothly adds a second finger. The feeling is different, but not bad as you feel yourself accommodating the extra digit. 

“Alright?” He checks in with you, looking into your eyes. 

“It feels good.” It’s not like the times you’ve laid here in this bed with your fingers inside you. It’s an entirely divergent sensation that you don’t think your imagination would have been able to conjure. “Really good.” 

“Yeah?” He stops sliding his fingers in and out and instead leaves them inside as he pumps them, almost as if he’s searching. He finds what he’s looking for when you gasp and cling to his shoulder. 

“Yeah.” You nod furiously, biting down on your lip. He’s no longer building the tension within you. Instead, it’s like he’s playing with a taut rubber band, waiting for it to snap. 

You feel your eyes start to close, wanting to roll to the back of your head. “Keep your eyes on me, baby. I want to see. Want to see you come apart for me.” 

You force your eyes open. “Spencer…” 

“I know, relax into it.” His thumb starts to rub your clit. “You’re doing so good.”  

“Oh my god,” you start to mutter and ramble again, a mixture of curses and Spencer’s name. You never break eye contact with him. It’s intense, but also intimate. 

“Are you gonna come for me, baby?” 

You let out a whine in answer and feel a muscle in your thigh twitch. Your core clenching on his fingers, the wet sounds of his fingers inside of you filling the room. The grip on his shoulders is tight and you hope it isn’t painful, but he barely seems to notice, all of his attention is on you. The mixture of admiration and lust on his features is almost too much. But you’re realizing that Spencer Reid never does anything part way or half-assed. Once Spencer puts his mind to something, he’s going to accomplish it. Not only that, but he’s going to put an almost Herculean effort into it. And somehow, you’ve become something he’s put his mind to. The thought makes you lean up and kiss him. 

You kiss him until a gasp separates your lips from him. “So perfect,” he muses. Your core constricts and contracts on his fingers. Your breathing is short and your legs feel like they’re shaking, but you can’t really tell. “Come for me.” 

One more shaky breath and then you do, the rubber band snaps. Your body arcs up into him and he swallows your shout with his lips, kissing you deeply. Again, he slows down but doesn’t stop, guiding you down from your high. When he does pull his fingers from you, you watch as he brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean. 

This time you don’t need him to rekindle the flame of need inside of you, it's already there. You reach between your bodies for his belt. Together, the two of you make quick work of the last of his clothing. And then he’s kissing you again, both his hands and your own caress, rub, and grab at each other. You reach down lower and lower, until you meet his hardened length with your hand. You grip the base and he falters. 

“I’d love that. Really, I want it so bad. But I won’t last, baby.” You squeeze him again and smile up at him, fluttering your eyelashes. “You’re a vixen.” He laughs, kissing you. 

“I want you.” 

“Fuck. I don’t have a condom.” You blink, it’s the first time you’ve ever heard Spencer drop the f-bomb. You giggle. 

“I have some.” One of his eyebrows raises in question and you shrug. “I like to be prepared. They’re over there.” You gesture toward your nightstand and he stretches over to open it. 

“Oh,” he lets out a surprised gasp and just then you remember what else is in your top drawer. “I guess you don’t just use your fingers to masturbate, do you?” He laughs. 

You reach up behind you and grab a pillow and toss it at him. He dodges it and it falls to the floor. “Like I said, I’m a virgin, not inexperienced.” 

Spencer grabs the box of unopened condoms, opens it and pulls one out. He carefully places the box back, his eyes lingering on your menagerie of sex toys. 

“What are you doing?” You ask. 

“I have an eidetic memory. I’m remembering… for later.” He smiles and you feel your heart speed up, pounding against your ribcage. You hadn’t had time to discuss anything past tonight. His smile falters. “I mean – I don’t mean to presume anything. Only if you want.” 

You reach over to him and pull him back toward you, kissing him. “I do. I want there to be a next time. Other times.” 

He looks down at you, searching. “Good, I do too.” He kisses you and only pulls away to put on the condom. He continues his kisses as he moves to position himself, spreading your legs for him. He brushes his thumb over your clit again and you moan. When he lifts his head from yours and glances up at you. You nod your head. 

You feel the tip of him at your entrance, pressing against you, but not fully in. That’s all he does at first, until you move on him and allow him to slip into you. He works himself into you, allowing you to stretch around him. It isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s definitely a new sensation. None of your toys feel like him. Both of you watch as his penis slowly disappears inside of you. He pushes in the last inch with a thrust. There’s a flash of a pinch and you let out a breath. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. 

“Yeah, just give me a second.” He nods, licks his bottom lip and then resumes his circles on your clit. It only takes a few seconds for you to relax on him. You grind your hips, somehow taking him deeper. He groans. “Move, Spencer. Please.” 

He inches out of you and then pushes back in without any urgency or force. He starts the same pattern and rhythm his fingers had used earlier that night. The feeling of him moving inside of you is incredible, you can feel him dragging against your walls. His body against yours, skin to skin, more connected than you’ve ever been with anyone else. Between the feeling of him pumping into and his movement against your clit, it doesn’t take long until you’re clawing at his back, wordlessly asking him for more. He answers, creating a relentless rhythm that you grind your hips to match. 

At some point, your eyes had shut and you hadn’t realized and so you force them open again, wanting to watch Spencer come apart just like he watched you. “You feel so good. Better than I could have imagined.” He starts to ramble. “I can’t believe I get to feel you like this. So good.” 

His eyes shoot down to watch himself slip in and out of you. “Fuck.” He cusses again. You decide you like when he curses, especially if you’re the reason. He moves his hips and his cock finds the same spot his fingers found earlier and you clench around him as you let out a deep groan. 

You lose track of time, it moves at a snail’s pace, but also at the speed of light. Time ceases to exist to you, your world shrinks down to only the two of you, everything else falls away. And then you’re falling again, diving headfirst into an orgasm. 

“Yes, yes. I love feeling you like this. Oh my god… oh fuck. I’m gonna –” he sputters. 

You reach up and pull his lips to yours, kissing him through his own orgasm. He shakes above you as he pumps into you with a final harsh push. And then when he peaks, he slowly fucks into you through his orgasm. He continues to kiss you until both of your breathing returns to normal and then he lifts his head to look at you. 

He smiles and you can’t help it when a huge toothy smile appears on your own face. 

“Are you okay?” He inquires. 

“I’m perfect.” 

His hand reaches up and caresses the side of your face. “You are.” 

The next morning you walk into the office still smiling. Everyone is around the desks, including Spencer. He glances over at you and nods in greeting, as if you hadn’t just said goodbye to him a few hours ago, the first golden rays of dawn streaming through your bedroom window. 

“Good morning.” You say to everyone. You set your go bag down at your desk and Emily smiles over at you, a mischievous glint in her eyes. 

“Oh, Morgan. You had it all wrong.” She teases. 

Morgan looks at Emily and then over to you. “What?” 

“That is the look of a woman who got it real good last night.” Emily laughs, loud and brash. You smile with her and Penelope gasps. 

“Tell. Me. Everything.” She runs over to you and grabs onto your arm. 

“I have no idea what you mean.” You reply innocently. 

JJ smirks. “Oh, she got it real good last night.” 

“Is sex all you guys think about?” You joke. The girls laugh and Morgan still seems confused. Spencer is focused on the file on his desk, but his finger isn’t moving down it and you know he isn’t reading it. “I had a good night last night.” You give a small inch, just to stave them off. Penelope squeals. You grab her hand. “And that’s all I’ll say about it.” 

“Boo!” Emily exclaims. 

Penelope almost pouts. “Oh, you are the worst!” 

“I know!” You laugh gleefully. Spencer looks up for only a split second, but you catch it and he smiles at you. 

“I’ll find out eventually. You do know that, right?” Penelope warns. 

“You are terrifying.” You squeeze her arm and turn away from the group to start on your mountain of files. It’s true that eventually everyone would probably find out about you and Spencer, but for now the two of you get to live in your own personal world. You smile to yourself.

tag list: @spenciesprincess @catalinasroom @tylevx @alicentswife @ingrid69rs @sobbingcryingattsizzles @infinitegalaxiesworld

[soobnny]

swipe — lee felix.

trope. lee felix. strangers to lovers. chronicles of a dating app. felix is extremely flirty. just fluff.

synopsis. i’m not looking to date right now, but my parents just sent me some computer parts and i saw on your tinder bio that you like assembling computers

word count. 3.2k words

warnings. none except for a few curse words

note. hi hello i got sent this rly funny photo of a conversation so i took inspiration from that and wrote this fic like a whiiile ago. i’ve had this in my drafts for a while so why not let it see the light of day!

Left. Left. Left. Left. Pause. Left. Left. Left. Left.

“(Name)!”

Yunjin offers no warning when her hands move to claw at your shoulders, intent on startling you without sparing a thought on your poor phone that had jumped out of your hands.

When you scare, she laughs, open-mouthed and loud as she plops herself on the spot next to you on your dorm’s mini couch. “You should’ve seen the look on your face.”

“Honestly, how do you even do that? I barely heard you walk into the living room!” You grumble.

You spare her a glance and notice she’s too dressed up to be staying the night in–white crop top that sits just above her hips with some low rise jeans to accentuate her features. Her hair is curled on the ends, recently dyed black and styled to look a little messy.

She must be going out.

Though you try not to think about it, the amount of times Yunjin goes out with her friends in a week is a constant reminder of how pathetic your social life is. While it didn’t quite bother you enough to accept her invite, it’d be nice to leave your dorm once in a while. It’s just that you haven’t found anyone you really clicked with like Yunjin.

“What are you doing?” She cranes her neck to try and see what you were so busy with that you didn’t see her from your peripheral vision.

You show her the app with no shame. It only makes her laugh tenfold, hands clutching her stomach with her head thrown back as if she wasn’t the one who had suggested you download it in the first place.

“Yunjin, this is stupid. I’ve only had this downloaded for a day and I already feel sick.” You groan, throwing your phone down in the space between you. Though, maybe you should’ve thought twice about that when Yunjin decides to grab so she can have a go herself – swiping left and left and left and… oh?

“What about him?” You curl into her side, peering over your phone.

Oh, he’s pretty cute. Lee Felix?

“He added dog lover. You love dogs and… music?” She goes over his interests quickly, eyes scanning his profile like a pro. You suppose it’s because she’s used to it, quick to read a guy’s intentions just by their Tinder profile.

“I like assembling computers. Oh, this guy’s a dork, you’d love him.”

Right.

It’s a match!

“Yunjin!” You shift in your seat, immediately grabbing your phone from her grip before she can do any further damage. Sure, you had humored yourself into downloading the app for Yunjin but you never thought of actually swiping right for anyone.

“What? He’s cute, and you matched!” She giggles, trying to grab your phone back so she can craft you the perfect first message.

She knows you won’t do it yourself.

You lock your phone before she has a chance to do anything stupid, shaking your head in reprimand. “I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not happening.”

She simply smiles at you, shrugging her shoulders and calling it a day for her trial in meddling with your love life. “Well, I tried. Alright, I have to go. I’ll be back late, you sure you don’t wanna come with?”

You return the smile, shaking your head as you drop yourself to lay down on the entirety of the couch once your roommate gets up. “I think my computer parts are coming in today so I have to be here to sign off the delivery.”

“Nerd.” She snorts, waving you goodbye and locking the door behind her. It’s your cue to grab your laptop and continue binging that new drama that had just been released.

This is your ordinary Friday night, curled up on the sofa with your most comfortable blanket and your laptop on your lap. Despite the desire to socialize sometimes, you think nothing else really goes above wearing your favorite PJs and eating snacks without guilt as the opening song of your new drama plays.

Though, you only get to finish one episode when your doorbell rings, and you waltz yourself to your front door to happily accept the package sent by your parents. They had won it as one of the raffle prizes in a foreign business trip, and since your parents had no use for a computer, they decided to ship it off to you. “Could help with college,” is what your dad says.

It’s only when multiple boxes come rolling in when you realize one small problem. You don’t know how to fucking assemble a computer, and you doubt Yunjin would know how either.

“That’s it. If you could please sign here, here, and here.” The mailman still sounds enthusiastic despite having done hours of his shift already, and you comply immediately as to not add on to the downpour of stress that’s handed to them every single day.

When you shut your door, you quickly turn around to stare at the multitude of boxes on the ground. Maybe Beomgyu would know how? He looks like he’d know a thing or two about computers. So, you shoot him a text.

Turns out, he doesn’t know how. And he’s currently scamming Yeonjun out of a free dinner, and so even though he tells you he’ll try to be there, you know he probably won’t arrive (unless to laugh at your situation).

You think, maybe you can just go to the Computer Engineering department and ask someone to help you, but could you risk socializing with numerous college students face to face? Absolutely the fuck not.

You’ve just about given up when your head strikes an idea and your back immediately straightens in posture at the stupid thought. “Should I?”

You rush towards where you had left your phone, letting out a sigh as you stare at the one person on your Match list. Lee Felix who likes assembling computers.

Lovely fucking timing.

Fumbling with the device, you finally decide to shoot him a message. What are the odds of him responding, anyway?

You’re tempted to throw your phone while waiting for his response, though your plan goes down the drain in a second when he responds almost immediately.

yn (6:03pm): hello!

felix (6:04pm): hey! i didn’t think you would message first :))

yn (6:06pm): oh, i’m sorry i hope you don’t get my intentions wrong. it’s just that … my parents sent over some computer parts and i rly don’t know how to assemble a computer

yn (6:06pm): i know it’s kind of random, but could u possibly help me by any chance?

yn (6:07pm): i don’t rly know anyone who knows how to and you’re the only person that came to mind

You cringe at yourself for triple messaging, face visibly scrunching as you let out a pained noise. And then he replies, and your hand shoots to grab your phone and stare at his message.

“Yeah, why not?” is what he replies, followed by where he should meet you. Is it a good idea to invite a stranger to your dorm? Probably not, but you can’t possibly assemble your computer somewhere else and bring it back to your dorms. So, you tell him to meet you at a cafe nearby – to test out the waters and see if he isn’t some variant of a serial killer.

“Be there in 15,” is his next reply.

15 minutes?!

You look down at yourself in sudden panic, still clad in a big shirt and some shorts. How were you supposed to pick something decent to wear in 15 minutes without Yunjin? You suppose could facetime her but you know it takes her hours to even decide on what to wear for herself.

Bringing your feet towards your closet, you say a silent prayer and start picking out what to wear for yourself. While this wasn’t technically a date, Lee Felix from Tinder is still fucking cute and you would hate for him to think he got scammed into swiping right on you.

You double check yourself in the mirror, chewing at your lips thoughtfully before sighing out in approval. At least you looked as if you put some sort of effort into what you’re wearing. That should be good enough in itself.

The nerve of meeting an entirely new person begins to set in when you repeatedly dart your eyes from the coffee shop back to your phone to try and see if anyone who looked like Felix was in the coffee shop. It’s like watching a game of ping pong the way you repeatedly look back and forth. And when it seems that no one with long black hair is here yet, you take it upon yourself to take a seat by the window where he can find you easily.

The scraping of the chair catches your attention, and holy fuck. Lee Felix is not a catfish. He is way far from it, and you think you might’ve lucked out when he takes the seat in front of you.

“Sorry, I hope I didn’t startle you.” Deep, thick accent. It feels like shots of espresso when he speaks and it physically manifests goosebumps from you. You shake your head, telling him you’re fine. “(Name), right?”

He smiles, and it feels like your whole world stops.

“Uh, yeah. You must be Felix?” The man in question nods his head, reaching out to shake your hand and the gesture has your cheeks flushing. It’s an act of basic human decency, but can you really be blamed for acting like a shy little school girl when someone as beautiful as Felix is sitting and talking to you.

The coffee shop is still bustling, and everyone around you converses as if the most beautiful man hadn’t just stepped foot into the coffee shop. The freckles sitting just below his eyes look like constellations, and his black hair is styled just messy enough to achieve the hot boy who doesn’t know he’s hot look.

“Do you want some coffee before I set your computer up?” You shake your head, suddenly feeling shy.

Instead, you tell him to get whatever he wants so you don’t feel guilty enough for taking time out of his evening just to assemble your computer. He accepts your promise in pretense, but he comes back with his order and a few pastries and it’s clear he’s already paid for it from the way he ignores any mention of how much it cost.

“I didn’t know what you preferred, so I got a bit of everything.” There’s a crinkle just at the corner of his eyes when he smiles, sitting back down adjacent of you as he pushes the plate closer to you.

You look at the array of pastries, a little hesitant. “Please don’t feel shy. Here, let’s take one together.”

He grabs a cookie from the platter, and you shyly follow by grabbing a strawberry muffin.

“Mmm, strawberry muffin. Very good choice.” Felix comments, watching you closely as you take a bite out of the muffin. “Is it good?”

Your eyes widen in delight, nodding your head as you chew slowly. “So good.”

Your words come out as a mumble, and it triggers a sweet laugh out of Felix. You feel familiar, the way you smile with your eyes and close them shut to savor the taste.

“You’re cute.” He says unabashedly, as if his words won’t cause drastic consequences.

A chunk gets stuck on your throat.

Felix is quick to hand you a glass of water when you start choking, rushing to stand by your side. You would’ve hoped the first skinship for the evening would be handholding, and not repeated pats on your back to remedy your choking.

“Are you okay?” His hand is still on your back, gently running small circles as he leans down to check on you. You think you might start choking again if he keeps looking at you like that, 1080p view of his eyelashes and the specs splashing his irises.

“Mhm, sorry.” You put the glass down, refusing to meet his eyes as he remains hovering over you. You want to leave out of embarrassment. He notices your silence, notices the way you cross your arms in mock defense.

“Don’t worry, I still think you’re cute.” There’s a smirk on his face. You can tell without even looking up at him. “I’ll take these out.”

He says it so casually, as if he’s simply asking about your day. His outward flirty-ness is new, but it isn’t unwelcome.

“Ready to go?”

With the plastic bag in his hand and his order in a takeout cup, you sigh gratefully. “Yeah.”

The walk to your dorm is short, but it’s spent in conversation. Lee Felix is talkative, has lots of stories to offer. Whatever it takes to make you laugh.

You like that about him. You like that you don’t have to talk so much. He doesn’t even force a comment out of you. Just needs to know you’re listening.

So you do. You listen intently as he shares pieces of his life with you—his friends, his course, games he plays. He’s chatty, and the way he smiles with every word reminds you of a cat. Deep whiskers and crescent eyes.

“So, really, this is a great way to end the day, assembling a pretty girl’s computer.”

His mouth drops a little when he realizes he’d vocalized the latter part of his sentence, yet he doesn’t make a move to take it back. You are pretty, one of the prettiest he’s ever seen. And the blush on your face is well worth the slip of his tongue.

“As long as you’re sure this isn’t a hassle.” You mumble, looking down at your feet as you reach your building.

That you aren’t getting anything out of this.

Though, before you can step forward, you’re tugged back to where Felix is standing. He’s holding your hand now, grabbing your full attention. “I promise this isn’t a bother.”

The way he looks at you answers your silent question—he doesn’t mind that you’re simply asking for his help without any intention.

“I enjoy building computers, especially with good company. You don’t even have to do anything. Just sit there and be yourself.”

“Okay. Thank you.” He squeezes your hand for extra measure, allowing you to drag him to your dorm room.

True to his word, Felix doesn’t so much as let you lift a finger. You stay seated on the couch, watching as he sets to work on the floor. From time to time, he’d tell you what he’s doing. Something about screwing some parts in and a mother board? You don’t understand much, but you listen as much as you can.

“Tell me about yourself.” Felix looks up from his work, and your eyes widen a little at the boy’s sudden request.

You’re sure you’re simply imagining the gentle interest in his eyes. “Hm?” You ask him to repeat himself, even though you heard him loud and clear.

“I’ve been yapping about myself all night. I wanna know more about you.” He teases.

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything. Everything.”

“Soooo… do I start with the year I was born?” You laugh when he throws you a look, quick to throw your hands in the air in mock surrender. “Joking, joking.”

“You’re an interesting girl, (Name).” Felix grins, locking eyes with you for a second and a half before turning back to his work.

“There’s nothing much to me, really. I go to school and go home and that’s about it. I just try and survive college the best I can.”

He shoots you a disapproving look. “Well, I beg to differ.”

“What do you mean?” You bring your legs up on the couch, sitting cross-legged as you wait for what he had to say.

“For one, your eyes lit up when I talked about Chan’s Pokemon collection, or how Seungmin is obsessed with Kdramas.” He points out, reaching for his takeout drink and taking a few large gulps. “And you smiled when I mentioned the little chicken plush I own.”

You don’t expect Felix to notice any of this, and the thought that he did has a blush fighting to creep up your face.

You grab a throw pillow to hide behind.

“Oh, and you like strawberry muffins. So, I’d say there’s a lot to you. And I’m hoping to learn everything more.”

You have to force your eyes to look away from him in fear that your flustered cheeks would appear too obvious to the boy. Though, if he’d noticed the mere brightening of your eyes, you’re sure he’s already caught on to the silly schoolgirl smile on your lips.

“Stop looking at me.” You mumble, burying your face in your pillow. All you can hear is his sweet laughter.

“Come here, I’m just about done.”

You clap your hands in small when he turns on your computer, fully functioning and fully assembled. It surprises you how a task that would’ve taken you 6 hours is done in under 2 by Felix. Even more that it didn’t even feel like two hours.

You suppose that’s just the thing with Felix. He makes it so that time disappears with the whole night sky in his eyes—the moon for eyes and stars littering his face.

“Thank you, Felix. Like really.” He dismisses you, telling you it was nothing. The satisfaction on your face is enough compensation for his work.

There’s a few do’s and don’t’s that he mentions, and you try to list them down the best you can.

“Or, I can just text it to you?”

You pause mid-writing, looking up at him. “Sure, that’s… that’s fine with me.”

You’re unsure of how to say goodbye to him after giving him your number, unsure even of how you can make it up to him for the 3 hours you’d taken away from him. If it were anyone else, you would’ve said it in ease, so you don’t know why you can’t do the same for Felix.

It’s different with him because you don’t want to say goodbye. You could go hours longer listening to him and watching him assemble your computer. Though, before you can contemplate to do anything, Felix interrupts your inner monologue.

“Actually, I have an idea on how you can make it up to me.”

You look up at him expectantly, and you see the hint of a smirk tracing on his features.

“Let me take you out on a date. A real one.”

“A date?” You stutter.

“I know you said you texted me just because I could fix up computers, but I really enjoyed talking to you today.” He’s holding back a smile. “So, what do you say?”

“Okay.” His eyes light up, glazed with happiness as he processes your response.

“Okay? As in, I can take you out on a real date?”

“Yes.”

Felix can feel something sweet in his heart, can feel it flutter like it’s being squeezed. To his surprise, you’d actually agreed, and the genuine excitement in his smile is too wholesome to not stare at.

“So… goodnight then?”

“Goodnight.”

“I’ll text you?”

“Okay. I’ll be waiting.”

Felix fixes you with a look one last time, almost romantic with the soft glaze in his eyes. And then he’s stumbling out into your hallway.

With a second glance, he turns his back away from you and walks away. You can’t help but still feel the warmth of his smile.

You feel a compelling force telling you you’ll see much more of Lee Felix in the near future.

[littlemissmasokitten]

Soon To Be A Peaceful Night

Pairing: Christian Yu x Fem!Reader

Genre: Comfort, Fluff.

Synopsis: Y/n and Christian have been together for some months but always kept the relationship far from risky. On a casual date night back at y/n's, a storm begins to brew and the couple's faced with spending the night.

Content: Y/n has a bad history with relationships before Christian, some anxiety responses, comfort character, sweet and slow fluff. Extra Notes: Very loosely based on Christian and not my strongest interpretation of him but figured I'd still share this piece anyway.

Networks: @othersideoutlawsnetwork

Thursday.

Not usually a day known for being too special. Too far from the weekend than anyone would want to be but the closest day anyone's getting to the freedom that comes from a Friday night.

For you though, Thursdays aren't so bad after all.

At the beginning of the year, you could have sworn on your life you'd never date again but here you were, setting the table and getting the house tidied up nicely, like clock work. The time had flown by and to think you'd already moved on and come into a new relationship so soon. The last 3 months together had flown by and in its own ways, it was nice.

It wasn't extremely early he'd ever visit but never too late in the afternoon either so you'd always make a bit of coffee for the two of you, should you ever both need it. You look over your now cleaned well-enough abode, it's not as great as you'd like it to be but what would you expect from only cleaning up the one day a week he comes over? Well enough is good enough, he's coming over for you after all, not the floorboards themselves.

In the living room, you patted down the cushions of your just-spacious-enough couch. You thought back fondly on the first few dates he'd come by and you'd watch shows together a safe enough distance apart but a distance well respected. You could tell there was something special the day the back of his hand brushed against the back of yours and for the first time, you didn't pull away. With a racing heart and a cautious finger, you outstretched yours to fit between two of his own. You gauged his reactions skeptically, only reading the most pleasant of smiles and the kindest of eyes as his hand fell to the side beneath yours. Something in the way your fingers laced together but so loosely, you had all the space to pull away. He seemed kind enough.

You returned to the dining table, a vase of slowly wilting flowers decorating the center. You'd playfully joked back then that roses would be too cliche and should anyone ever bring you flowers, a bunch of irises would be unique enough. Sometimes he listened a little too well really. Nothing would have been wrong with roses but looking at the vase and all the different hues of purple before you brought a light hearted smile to your face.

You pulled out a chair, taking a seat for the first time since you'd gotten up so early to clean. You almost instinctively tilted it toward the chair beside you he's come to be a regular in. It was maybe your second or third dinner date together in those spots. Joking and laughing about anything and everything without a care in the world. That is, up until you'd laughed a little too hard into the hot cocoa and got a bit of whipped cream on your nose. His hand raised for a moment then halted, but before you'd notice, he'd already had his hand on his mug, touching either cheek to the whipped cream. A relief clear as day washed over your senses and strangely enough, you found yourself with a napkin in your hand, thumbing off the mess on his cheek. It all happened so naturally.

A knock on the door pulls you from your memories. For some reason, you'd never gotten comfortable with coming face to face with anyone in the doorway. "Come in!" you'd shouted and the door knob jiggled and turned. Every time he walked through, a ping of anxiety came through but the look in his eyes washed it all away every time. You muster together an all too telling smile "I missed you". A casual tone with the same amount of distance he was all too used to but loved about you anyway. "I missed you too, darling" he says, shutting the door behind him.

Same routine as any other Thursday. He takes off his hat and rests it upside down on a counter nearby. You get up out of your chair as he empties the contents of his pockets into his hat to hug him from behind. "I think I missed you more though~".

You'd play those funny little "I missed you more" "I love you more" games in past relationships not ever meaning more than filler before but these days, each word sank heavily in your chest. With him, you'd really meant it. You held your hands together in front of him, giving him an extra squeeze to which he responded to by placing one hand over the both of yours, his thumb rubbing lightly against the side of your hand. By comparison, his hands were so big but also the most delicate hands you'd ever known. "Well I know I missed you more~" he says. And this time you let him win.

You release your grasp on him and let him finish his routine. "Have you been enjoying work, my love?~" you take a peek at his expression, noting it carefully but it's a consistent, reliable expression that plays on his face. "I have quite a bit honestly. Been working up a new project which, as always, I'll tell you more about once we put it all to paper. Is that all you'd really like to ask about though?~" he says teasingly.

The little bit of mischief catches you off-guard but it always has and he's always meant well by it so it was fine enough. "Well, I guess if you'd insist, then I'd like to know if I look okay for you today". You pull awkwardly at the midsection of your dress, as if it were an effort to model it more for him. "Hardly a question, dear" he responds "you look more and more beautiful with every day". You roll your eyes in response. You wish he'd give you a more honest answer but the look in his eyes never faulter when he says it, you wonder sometimes if he really does mean every word of it.

"Coffee?" you ask. "Yes please".

His footsteps trail along the house and you always listen cautiously to each and every one of them. You feel you can trust him enough but your guard hardly ever comes fully down. When you hear the familiar rustle of pillows as he sinks into the couch, you're met with a usual sense of relief. You walk both coffee mugs over and set them on the little tables on either side of the couch. For a moment you stand there, looking at him blankly. He extends an arm out to the side "Would you like to come snuggle, dear?" and somehow, he nails it every single time. You climb your way into the couch, angling yourself into his embrace with your head on his shoulder.

On days like this, you both set up the tv with a bit of background music and talk a while, catching up on all you both have been up to while you play with his fingers. You stay wrapped up together like that for an hour or so before one of you suggests it might be a good time to start thinking of food. "Oh! I almost forgot, I can get something ready real q-" he pats your head softly "There's no rush, darling. Is there anything you'd have in mind?". "Well, I've still got fresh potatoes and chicken, maybe we could do something with that?" you look into his reaction again, a satisfied smile on his lips "Then let's get started".

You clean up the mugs, noticing he's stayed good on his apparent 2 sip limit. Maybe one day you'll be comfortable enough to share a mug together.

A pot of boiled water, a pan, and a few peeled potatoes later, a basic meal of lemon garlic chicken and mashed potatoes is all prepped and ready for the both of you. He's always a really good cook somehow, it's a miracle he has time to do so well in so many areas of life, even down to caring well for you. It made you curious but skeptical. The skepticism should have drawn you away but it wasn't even an hour later, with both your stomachs full, you laid sideways on the couch, your head comfortably in his lap and your legs dangling off the arm rest. You'd giggle happily as he teased and cared for you. You both had never been so close before and for once, you almost felt like a normal girl again.

The lights flicker, quickly sending a fear back in you, belting up from his lap and looking around. He instinctively pulls you back against his chest. A few last flickers and the power is out entirely. In the darkness of the night, the rustling and crackling of tree branches swatting at the walls and one another can be heard. A heavy down pour of rain echoes through the rough, almost such a consistent white noise, it almost makes sense how you wouldn't have noticed over the music from the tv and the laughter shared between the two of you.

You don't know when it had started but you next noticed he'd been patting your head ever so softly, comforting you through your worries. The feeling of his big arms softly encompassing you felt beyond Heavenly. Somehow, despite everything you'd believed might have once been ruined for you, it sets your heart at ease. The first thing it seems he really doesn't come to notice on his own is the way it makes you relax into his chest. "Goodness, I'm not looking forward to going back out into this weath-" "You can stay!" you cut his line of thought off, and the silence between you two feels louder than ever.

Your brain scrambles to throw anything together "if you uh... because it could be unsafe out there and if you don't have anything to do tomorrow even though I'm sure you're a busy man and I don't expect you to have to rely on me to stay but- and you haven't seen my bed before but IT REALLY IS COMFORTABLE ENOUGH FOR TWO PEOP-" your line of thought is cut off by his hand tracing down your arm, finding the perfect nook beneath your fingers to take hold and squeeze your hand, placing a gentle kiss on your head.

"Only if you'd be okay with me staying, love. Take your time to think on it and hey, whatever you choose, your comfort comes first in my eyes".

It was undeniable that as much as you'd urged him to stay, the words ate away at you at the same rate you'd have spoken. Torn between a sense of duty or guilt and an anxious pit in your stomach screaming for you to stay away. In the midst of the darkness, you meant to clench your fits but squeezed on tight to his hand. You loosened your grip, intent to pull away but as your fingertips dragged across his open palm, unwilling to let go, you held your hand in his once again.

"I entrust myself to you!" you said a little too firmly. His chest rumbled with a stifled laughter "Love, it's just for sleeping, let's go get your room in order then". You quickly agreed, before a quick realization "HEY! How'd you know my room was a mess!" you exclaim. "Darling, the same dishes have sat in the dishwasher the same way the last few weeks. But, if you'd like to insist your room is well kept despite that, I'm fully ready to believe you".

"... I can get my clothes off the floor..."

He pets your head affectionately once again "That's my girl".

You both make due with cleaning in the dark, phone lights illuminating the way as you bestow the gift of dirty laundry into the closet for future you. At the same time, you hear the bed creak as his weight settles in, seated on the edge of a now well made bed. "It's cozy here, you know? From what I can see, it feels very much you." His sincerity is met with only the snarky response of "What? A thorough mess inside and out?" He chuckles at your response a moment before taking a breath. "It's somewhat new to me and yet, it's has a familiar sense of comfort that draws me in". Such a simple response, somewhere deep down, you have a sense he really might get you.

"Yeah yeah, well it's only for tonight so don't get too cozy" you joke, as you both climb into the shared bed, uncertain if you really would only like it to be one night. "Understood" he says a bit too easily, laying on his back and allowing you your space of distance.

Any other moment, that space would be appreciated. But tonight, your heart almost aches from the distance.

"I see how it is. You'll snuggle up to me on the couch only to act like you don't know me anymore once we share a bed~" You say playfully. "Darling, if I hold onto you tonight, it will be for the entire night~" he jokes back. You smile to yourself. "I'm not so sure about that...~" "Only one way to find out" he remarks.

With that, you lean into his embrace. He pulls you close to his chest and you make yourself comfortable tucking your head under his chin. The odd chill in the house caused by the rain conflicted with the perfect warmth of his body and the softness of his skin the way his arms wrapped around you. The scent on his body so faint but mesmerizingly cozy. You nuzzled closer, trying to take in the scent a bit clearer but your exhaustion of an emotional rollercoaster of a day getting the best of you. Your breath slows as you begin to fall asleep, delicately in his arms.

One last gentle kiss on the head and the hushed whispers of words are all you manage to take in before falling into a peaceful rest.

"Sweet dreams, my love. I've got you."

[thetorturedbuckydepartment]

chapter two: making amends

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!reader

summary: Six months ago, you were appointed to be Head Nurse to the Avengers by Tony Stark. Every day, you count your lucky stars, knowing the horrible past you quickly ditched back in England. It holds you back, restrains you, from getting close to anyone when on your new job.

That's until you met and fell in love with Bucky Barnes. The supposed assassin with a heart of gold, who seems to be eager to get to know you. To peel back your layers piece by piece, but could you trust him once you're laid before him raw and vulnerable?

masterlist

warnings: language, mentions of disordered eating, mentions of past bullying, heavy descriptions of food and eating

word count: 1.8k

Taglist: @scott-loki-barnes @cjand10

A/N: chapter two is here! if you're enjoying pls reblog / like / comment and let me know!! also comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

PREVIOUS PART -- CHAPTER ONE: THE BOLTER

For the next month or so, you do your best to avoid him, even though you ache for him to walk past the infirmary and every time he magically appears like you’ve wished, bruised up from sparring or a cut from cooking, you ignore him.

The second he walks in, you try your best to look busy, or send him off with a quick Bandaid. The injuries he comes in with are never anything serious, and you wonder who he’s here for. Even when another nurse tends to him, you can feel his eyes run down your spine, like you’re the object of his desires. 

It’s so hard to keep yourself away, to deny it when you feel him staring at you like a heavy weight on your back, especially when it creates such a chasm in your chest to turn him away. But he keeps coming back, and your resolve keeps waning and waxing like the crescent moon.

It’s one such instance when you’re restocking the medical supplies like bandages and syringes, when Bucky creeps up on you, as you hum away to whatever song is stuck in your head. The infirmary is completely empty at this point, everyone retiring for the night seeing as there are currently no missions for any of the squad. As Head Nurse, you keep yourself in charge of supplies, diligently noting all the numbers by hand even when FRIDAY can do it for you just as well. 

“Hey.” He breathes, you name entangled in the exhalation. You jump out of your skin, turning around and dropping the large box of gauze you hold, tiny plastic packets ricocheting off the floor. He’s leaning on the doorframe, but immediately pushes himself off, extending both hands toward you, as if to show you he’s unarmed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” His adorable face twists in concern, and when your soul finally finds its way back into your body, you let out a shaky laugh.

“It’s okay, James. I just thought I was all alone in here, and I didn’t hear you come in.” You kneel on the floor and start gathering the spilled items back on the floor, and he crouches to help you. Your hand brushes his vibranium one, and you pull away from the spark of electricity that jolts up your spine, but unbeknownst to you, Bucky reads the entire situation quite differently. 

“I wanted to talk to you.” Your eyes flit up and meet his, the look in them indiscernible. What could he possibly want to talk to you about? You find yourself getting lost, stranded in the sea hues of his irises, and you stand up. 

“To me? What about?” He too rises, and the height difference between you and him makes you swallow a gasp, marvelling at how much bigger he is than you.

“Are you afraid of me?” He asks, staring down at his hands facing palms up, his tone so soft it moves you. The space between your bodies has never felt bigger, and you itch to close it.

“No, of course not. Why would you think that?” You take a step in his direction, silently begging him to meet your eyes, no matter how distracting they are. 

“Of my past. Are you sure? Not even a little?” You immediately pick up what he’s putting down, what the forlorn look in his eyes is referring to.

“No,” you assure him firmly, “I wouldn’t be scared of you for that. That wasn’t you. I— I don’t want to bring it up, but…you were used as a vessel for horrible evil. But that doesn’t mean you did it. That’s not who you are, James. Steve loves you, you guys have saved the world time and time again. He trusts you, so does everyone else in this building. Why would I be scared of that?” You tilt your head, searching his startled expression.

“Then why are you avoiding me?” He takes another step towards you, and all of a sudden it’s too short a distance and you take a step back, spine crashing against the shelves and in your haste almost miss the tortured look that paints across his features for a split second.

“I—um…You called me really pretty.” You decide to be truthful. He clearly didn’t expect those words to leave your mouth

“So you skip dinner?”

“What? I…I don’t skip. I just don’t like eating in front of people, and I’m quite busy. You know, being a nurse and all.” Your heart catches in your throat at the fact that maybe he’s figured you out. And it’s true, you don’t attend dinner with the rest of people in your building, and it really is because you don’t like eating in the presence of other people. But… he doesn’t need to know the rest.

“Sure. All three times a day?” You nod, unable to speak as your cheeks light themselves on fire. 

“Oh, come on, just admit it. You’re afraid of me.” He lunges at you, but you don’t move. It’s not him you’re afraid of, just of how he makes you feel. You can’t explain that, it would just be embarrassing.

“I’m not. I already told you.” He’s so close it’s hard to focus when you can smell him and it makes your eyes erratically flutter at just how fucking good his cologne smells, stimulating pretty much all of your sense as you try to hold his gaze. 

Has the colour blue always been so consuming?

“Then why is it that every time I come down here, you do everything in your power to avoid me, or to send me back as quick as humanly possible?” He cradles your head in his human hand, and the warmth radiating off of his body makes you melt.

“You called me pretty.” You repeat. “I thought you were making fun of me.” 

The silence is deafening and you watch the gears in his pretty head turn as he formulates a reply. “I wasn’t. I meant it— I mean it.” You huff out a laugh, shaking it off. “Really, I wasn’t joking, or making fun of you. I mean it, I do think you’re really pretty. Respectfully.” The mild internet reference coaxes a smile out of you.

“Okay.” 

“Come with me. I want to do something with you.” You blink at him incredulously and silently nod, and he grins and takes your hand. You try to not stumble over yourself at the way he’s touching you, or the way he looks when he smiles as he drags you to the kitchen.

It’s quite late at night, and it seems everyone is asleep. “Everyone’s off to do karaoke, or drinks or something. I don’t know, I didn’t ask.” You tug at your sleeves as he fiddles with something on the ridiculously large stove unsure of where to stand or what to do.

“You’re not a fan of large crowds, are you? Me neither. It’s always too loud and hot everywhere —Guess I’m just not like other girls.” He laughs at that, and you smile, the sardonic joke landing exactly as you intended. 

When Bucky turns around, he’s holding two plates of food. “Now, apparently there’s this one really popular show I haven’t watched, I was wondering if you wanted to with me?” You stare at him, stomach grumbling at an embarrassing volume.

“Depends on what show it is.”

“I don’t really remember. It was supposed to be funny? Sam recommended it to me, it’s called Annabelle. Apparently, it’s about a girl and her doll?” A laugh escapes you before you can stop it.

“Is Sam already back to his tricks? James, Annabelle is a horror movie franchise where the main premise is some evil demon possesses a doll and wreaks havoc on whoever has it. It’s not funny, but you can laugh at it. Some of the VFX are horrible, and the jumpscares are cheap.”

“BFX?” He tilts his head to the side as you approach him, smiling at his childlike innocence.

“VFX. It stands for Visual effects, I’m pretty sure.” He processes your words, eyebrows furrowed so cutely you could cry and try to smooth it with your thumb. 

“Oh. Well in that case you can choose. You like burgers, right? I asked FRIDAY what your go-to meal is, and she said you like them. I hope you don’t mind, I made them how I used to, before the world went to shit.” He offers you a meek smile, extending one plate to you, loaded to high heaven with fries that make your mouth water by smell alone. You take the plate, a beautiful sage green decorated with artistic splatters of darker hues, unable to say no.

“Oh. Yes, thank you. You didn’t have to do this, though.” You don’t look up to meet his eyes, too scared of what emotions dwell in them. He wishes you would though, wishes you would look at him longer than in five second bursts. 

“I did. I thought maybe you’d like me a little more,” he chuckles ever so sadly and you finally grant him his secret wish. “What? I do like you, but just… we’ve already discussed it, and unfortunately the only time I’d see you is during meals. It’s not you, James. It’s me.” You move to sit down on the comfortable black couch situated in front of the ostentatiously massive TV screen, waiting for Bucky to join you.

“Then why do you call me James?” He sits awfully close to you, but you don’t mind. Not when it’s cold and he’s so warm. He stares down at you, once again silently begging you to meet his gaze.

“Your third day here, one trainee tried calling you Bucky. You berated him to high heaven and gave him a beating to match. He told me you don’t like people who aren’t close to you calling you Bucky. I don’t think I could survive a beating like that, to be honest.” You laugh, slowly beginning to eat, not worried for half a minute on his thoughts on the matter. He seems more focused on your words.

“You can call me Bucky, if you want. I don’t mind. You’re not a trainee, you’re the Head Nurse of this place, doll. Who would I be to deny the very woman who’ll patch me up the second I get a scratch?” He begins to dig into his food too, and to your joy, you’re not the one eating the most. Not that you’d shame him for it, how on Earth could you when you’ve been on the receiving end of it? But it’s nice to sit with someone who definitely won’t judge you.

“Okay…Bucky.” He smiles at you, bright and dazzling and you’re fucked. Completely, utterly, thoroughly fucked.

NEXT PART

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Alex Cabot x Reader Headcanons

from my own wishful thinking & context clues & absolutely nothing else

Smart as fuck.

Loves brunch. Orders an omelet and a mimosa every time.

Grew up crazy rich. Trust fund baby.

New England law royalty.

Her favorite flowers are mums.

Would roundhouse kick anyone else who tried to hug her, but is super snuggly with you.

Eerily good at reading people.

Legendary speeches and closing arguments.

Would make an excellent politician, but doesn't like the ethically slimy things required.

Sees the good in you when you don't.

Stays up so late on weekends, then sleeps til noon. Even though you have told her time and time again that this is bad sleep hygiene.

Hot when she wears glasses and she knows it.

Chooses your outfits when you go on vacations because she wants the Instagram pics to be perfect.

Leaves you little love letters on sticky notes when she has to leave before you wake up.

Loves to Netflix and chill all weekend. With a big emphasis on the chill. 😉

Very hard to intimidate.

Not great about saving money, but she doesn't really have to be.

Spends an ungodly amount of money on omakase.

Doesn't let many people get close to her, but is very close to those she lets in.

Makes sure you're included in conversations because you can be a little on the shy side.

Ridiculously long nighttime skin care routine.

Has watched every single comedy special on Netflix.

Nearly unstoppable when she turns on the charm.

Makes you get to the airport 2.5 hours early, despite the fact that you both have TSA PreCheck.

A slut for cacio e pepe.

Will choose a hotel based on nothing but how the pictures there would look.

Her suitcase is always too heavy, and she always asks to put stuff in yours.

Has a parfait for lunch every day.

Cafe con leche supremacy stan.

Silk sheets only.

Sweeps you away on far-flung vacations as often as she can.

A gin-and-tonic is her Bad Day at Work drink.

Got in trouble all the time as a kid for playing with her mom's makeup.

Would 100% use her family's private jet if you hadn't convinced her it was socially and environmentally unethical. She hated that you were right.

Mulled wine on Christmas Eve. Always.

Will melt if you give her jewelry. Doesn't even care that she could buy herself better pieces.

Lets you get quirky and colorful with holiday decorations inside, but outside it's classic white lights and wreaths and candles only.

Would never ever admit it but gets pissed when you don't interact with her Instagram posts.

Favorite candy is Skittles, but she feels this undermines her badass bitch persona at work, so she'll only eat them at home.

Secretly likes to wind down with a joint on Friday nights after work.

Reminds you to wear SPF moisturizer. Every. Single. Day.

Holds your hand firmly in crowds so you don't get separated.

Takes so long in the shower in the morning that sometimes you have to get in, wash, and get out all while she's still showering.

Gets a facial and a massage every week like the bougie bitch she is.

Gives absolutely no fucks.

You do not want to be on the receiving end of an Alex glare.

The ultimate hype man. Believes in you so much that you actually believe in yourself.

Never not running late because it takes her so long to get ready. But somehow always gets there on time?

Compliments you incessantly. Like to the point that it flustered you at first.

Has to drink herbal tea instead of coffee after lunch or she'll be up all night.