#and yet. i have been struggling to write this shot all week.

[livvyofthelake]

the need to invent a paper that i can actually write.

[fyrewalkwithmee]

Temptations Pt.2

Early Seasons Spencer x Roommate Reader// NSFW MDNI

I just wanted to thank everyone for all the love on part 1 of this story which was also my first ever Spencer post. It truly means a lot and your comments, reblogs and likes are so encouraging and make me want to write more 🥺❤️

Warnings: SMUT!MDNI!!, Sub!Spencer, Inexperienced!Spencer, Dom!reader, dry humping, palming. Whiny Spence makes me go BARK BARK. Mommy!kink, Light choking, Male and female orgasm.

3.4k WORDS (sorry i got a bit carried away)

Please like, comment, reblog if you enjoy! Im also keen to write more for Spencer so if you have any requests my asks are open :)

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It had been a couple of weeks since the incident with Spencer. You knew that you should have been riddled with guilt and shame after spying on him while he was vulnerable… and joining in, but you didn't. After all, he clearly wanted you and you definitely wanted him so what was there to feel bad about? 

That night had exposed Spencer to you in a whole new light and it was getting increasingly hard to be around him. You found your eyes lingering longer on him, your mind concocting sinful visions of his long fingers, pullable hair, creamy skin that was just begging to be marked. In the dead of night, your hands would travel down between your thighs, a puddle of arousal waiting for you as you replayed the sounds of his needy whines and tried your best to imagine the parts of him that have yet to be seen by you. You had spent the last two weeks trying to come up with a plan to get inside his head… and his pants. But you were struggling. Spencer was sensitive and inexperienced and you didn't want to scare him away or embarrass him by being too forward or revealing that you had discovered his dirty little secret.     

Luckily for you, there seemed to be some mystic force watching and putting into place the ideal situation for the both of you to finally get what you want. 

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“Alright spill, what is up with you tonight?” you asked with a hint of annoyance in your voice as you continued to clean up after dinner. Spencer had been off ever since he came home from the office, being especially quiet and sulky. You could tell something wasn't right when he got like this, you could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he sat through dinner eyebrows furrowed, his mind trying to put puzzle pieces together to resolve whatever was bothering him. Normally it was the case he was working on or some complex scientific concept he had been researching, but tonight felt different. There was an air of hesitancy and frustration that loomed over him like a storm cloud about to burst. 

Spencer quickly met your gaze, his brown eyes widening as if he was shocked you had noticed his behaviour, like he hadn't just sat through dinner barely speaking two words. 

“N-Nothings wrong. It's just uhh the case we're working on right now.” 

Spencer stuttered as he spoke, peering into his lap to fidget with his fingers. God those fingers, what you would do to feel them on your body or slipping in and out of your… Fuck no focus focus focus.

You finished drying the last plate and placed it back into the draw before you leaned both hands against the counter. Your position had you towering over Spencer who was seated on the other side,

 “You are so cute when you lie.” 

You spoke playfully but couldn't conceal the underlying flirtation in your tone that was dying to come out and play. What you were able to hide was the bitter pang that shot straight through your heart. Not because he was lying to you, but because whatever he was going through he didn't think that he could talk to you about it.  

Despite his enormous intelligence, Spencer was sensitive and he let things get to him. You knew how his team could be, picking on him because he was the youngest and less experienced in most areas of life. Despite your raging sexual attraction to the boy you also cared deeply for him and knew that if he didn't talk to you about it he would keep it bottled up. 

Spencer looked to you again, he swallowed at the way you loomed over him his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his throat. His cheeks had taken on a slight rosiness at your comment and you relished in the effect you had on his body, knowing exactly where his mind was probably heading. 

He instinctively leaned in closer as he rushed to defend himself,

 “W-what! I'm n-not lying.”

You met his challenge by coming even nearer, now face to face with the boy wonder. You couldn't help but admire his beauty being this close, the way his glasses framed his big brown eyes, the sharpness of his reddening cheekbones and the way his pink lips were slightly parted almost welcoming you in.   

“You think I can't tell when you're lying Spence? We've lived together for almost a year.”

The nickname made Spencer’s breath catch in his throat, he shifted nervously in his seat suddenly very aware of your close proximity. He tore his eyes from yours fidgeting anxiously, trying to ignore the familiar feeling of arousal bubbling in his stomach.

Spencer prayed that you were oblivious to the fact that being around you often excited him in more ways than one. He also prayed that you would drop the subject as he was sure discussing it with you could only result in his own humiliation. Spencer stood from his position and walked over to the couch partly to hide away from your questions but also to hide the way his pants had begun to tighten in a not-so-subtle way.

“Fine, I lied! I just don't think you can help me out with this one. It's personal and kind of… embarrassing.” He let out a defeated sigh and buried his face in his hands. His attempts to detur you only heightened your curiosity and if his problem had to do with what you thought it did there was no way you were backing down now.

You sat down next to him on the couch and gently pulled away his hands so you could see his face.

“Spencer, you've literally seen me at my worst. How many times have you held my hair while I emptied my guts into the toilet after a night out? Or have to comfort me when I'm a mess after coming home from a bad date?” Or have me weak in the knees while I fuck myself to the sounds of you getting yourself off, “Nothing you say could be any more embarrassing than anything I've done.” 

You place a reassuring hand on his thigh, feeling him tense up under your touch, you meet his eyes and spoke smoothly, “Let me help you”.

If Spencer wasn't hard before he certainly was now, having you so close with your hands on his body made his brain go fuzzy and a burning heat had begun to engulf the air around him. As much as he didn't want to tell you what happened, he wanted your attention more, he wanted you to continue dotting over him and talking to him in that gentle affectionate tone. Maybe it was his nerves or the uncomfortable pressure of his cock straining against his briefs but before he knew it he was a blubbering mess trying to explain to you what had occurred earlier that day.

“I-its not really a big deal. It was just at work we got to talking about relationships and sex and everyone had stories to share but when it got to me I didn't know what to say and M-morgan made a joke about how I wouldn't even know how to get a date with a woman let alone please one and I know it was only a joke but I just-” 

You gripped the frantic boy’s arms tightly and stroked them soothingly trying to get him to slow down, “Woah woah slow down sweetheart. None of that is true, you shouldn't lis-” 

Spencer interrupted you, big puppy dog eyes staring into yours, “The thing is it is true. Not the getting a date aspect, I think I could manage that but when it comes to sex I… I’m not really the most experienced with that type of thing and I’m worried that when I am put in that position I won’t know what to do.”

Spencer's cheeks burned with embarrassment at his admission and he struggled now to meet your eyes. You felt terrible for him and the way his work colleagues teased him but you also couldn't help but think how fucking perfect this all was. This was your chance to finally get a taste of the man who had been destroying your body and mind for far too long.

You sat up straight making yourself tall and turned yourself to face him, “I see” You replied and pretended to be deep in thought before lowering one hand to draw faint patterns on his knee. Spencer's jaw clenched at the gesture, his eyes glued to the spot where your feathered touch roamed. 

“Maybe you just need some practice.” You spoke in a sultry tone as your fingers pushed deeper, nails scraping lightly at the skin beneath his pants. 

Spencer let out an almost non-existent groan at the pressure, he was absolutely dumbfounded by the situation and shift in your behaviour. There was no way this was happening, no way you were offering what he thought you were. It had to be some kind of sick joke. The boy's voice had risen at least two octaves as he breathlessly replied,

 “P-practice? I umm I’m not sure I understand.” 

You moved your hand from his knee and gripped his thigh firmly, moving it back and forth, sensually stroking. With your eyes on his lower half, you could clearly see the large tent that had formed under his pants. Your pussy clenched around nothing at the sight, your arousal intensifying rapidly and leaking into your panties. You were so in you thought to yourself a satisfied smirk forming on your lips. 

You leaned in and whispered into his ear, “I think you do genius.” your hand slowly crept higher and higher towards his cock, ghosting delicately over his hardness, “I think your body definitely does.” 

Spencer let out a delicious whimper, sheepishly bucking his hips up to meet your hand. You chuckled at his eagerness and continued your torture, adding some pressure so you were lightly palming him, “I’m more than happy to help you out Spence, if thats what you want. You need to tell me if you want me to stop.”

Spencer was a mess, replying to your command with a blissful whine. He continued his attempts to push up into your hand needing more friction to relieve the unbearable ache between his thighs. To his dismay, you removed your hand completely from his crotch, instead wrapping it gently around the slender column of his neck. 

The way he looked at you in that moment was enough to make you cum on the spot. His innocent big eyes were slightly watery from your teasing, his cheeks a new level of flushed and strands of his dishevelled hair hung loosely over his eyes. He looked at you with so much want, you knew he was putty in your hands. You shifted yourself so you sat in his lap, staring down at the heavenly sight below you, 

“I'm gonna need to hear your words, baby. Do you want me to stop or keep going?”

The pressure of your body on his made Spencer squirm beneath you and you could practically feel the way his thickness throbbed against your core. Spencer looked at you with despair in his eyes as he involuntarily bucked up into you and begged, 

“P-please don't stop!”

That was all you needed to hear to let the fun begin. You began to grind down with a slow but sturdy rhythm, earning an array of breathy groans from the boy under you. You leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth and whispered an encouraging “Good boy” into his ear. 

Spencer gasped at the nickname, his movements becoming faster and more frantic. Your warm body on his, the dominance of your tone, the realisation that you wanted him. It was all to much. He was grinding into you like a horny teenager, a mixture of moans and broken words falling from his open mouth, 

“Fuckk. Ahhh, please, please” his whines were like honey as they melted into the air around you and you couldn't help but let out your own at the way he writhed underneath you. You planted two hands on his chest giving you more leverage to rub back and forth over his clothed hardness as you slowed your pace, the new sensation sent you both into orbit, Spencer shutting his eyes tight with his mouth agape letting out shallow laboured breaths. His big hands went straight to your hips, fingers digging into the supple flesh there as he pushed you into him even harder. You threw your head back taking in the way his large bulge repeatedly bumped perfectly against your sensitive clit.   

“Feels so good baby, tell me what you want pretty boy.” you managed to ask through moans.

Spencer's eyes remained shut, completely wrapped up in the pleasure of the moment as he begged, “N-need to feel you. F-feel more of you. Need to kiss you please let me kiss you”

The pathetic tone of his voice as he asked for your permission to kiss was borderline ridiculous, but he had been so good and you'd be lying if you said you weren't dying to feel his wet mouth on yours. You halted your movements climbing off his lap, earning a disappointed whine from the boy. Spencer opened his eyes and peered at you, waiting for your next move. You couldn't believe what a mess he was for you, the FBI’s golden boy absolutely pussy drunk and waiting for your instructions. It was laughable. And the hottest thing you had ever seen. 

Spencer's anxious mind started reeling at the loss of contact and he began to fumble an apology thinking he had done something wrong, “I'm sorry, we d-dont have to. I just wanted to-”

You cut him off speaking in an authoritative voice, “clothes off and lie down.” 

Spencer looked at you hesitantly for about half a second then hurried to undo his belt and buttons, almost falling over himself in the process. While he worked you did the same, removing everything but your bra and panties which had become practically see-through from the wetness that had soaked through. By the time you were finished, Spencer was already lying nervously on the couch, his hands covering his exposed cock from your view. He spoke awkwardly,

“Umm, I don't have any uhh… protection.” 

You let out a condescending laugh as you stalked over to him, kneeling beside his head. You ran a hand through his soft hair,

“Don't worry sweetness, I’m not gonna fuck you tonight. We have plenty of time for that.”  

As much as you wanted to fuck his brains out, you were going to take things slow with Spencer and show him all the different ways two people could pleasure each other. He looked at you confused and began to ask what you meant but you cut him off by slamming your lips onto his, earning a surprised yelp from Spencer as your tongue slid into his mouth. 

Spencer's kiss was sloppy and filled with need as he gripped your head between his hands and explored your mouth with his tongue. He tasted like peppermint and cinnamon and you found yourself lost in his kisses, falling deeper and deeper into an intoxicated bliss. You could stay with him like this forever, but you knew that there was a more pressing matter that needed to be taken care of. You moved from his lips to his neck sucking and biting every tender spot you could find that made him groan beneath you. You trailed your way down his chest to his abdomen, which was surprisingly toned despite his thinness. You stopped when you reached the place he needed you most, taking in the sight before you. 

Spencer's cock was better than you could ever have imagined. He was bigger than you expected and extremely hard, his length pressing straight up against his abdomen. Your mouth watered at the way precum dripped from the top of his aggravated tip and slid down over the veiny thickness of his length. The view put you in a trance and you couldn't help but reach out and wrap your hand around him, stroking him softly and moving your thumb around his swollen tip. Spencer's hips lifted up off the couch as he moaned into your touch, you thought he might cum there and then so you halted your movements squeezing him at the base. Spencer whined desperately, his red tip had begun to turn purple from all the stimulation. Fuck he was so sensitive, so desperate to come that he began moving his hips, fucking himself into your hand as you watched on in awe. 

But you didn't want him to cum like this so you removed your hand which didn't stop him from continuing to fuck up into nothing, getting closer and closer to finishing while you straddled him. He stopped moving when he felt your weight on him, he looked wrecked as he looked at you, his eyes glazed over in a dreamy, eager haze. You kept his gaze as you lowered your clothed core down onto the flatness of his length, his slickness only adding to the already-soaked fabric of your panties. You were throbbing at the contact and the friction of his cock sliding through your folds with only the rough cotton of your panties keeping you apart.

“Were you about to cum baby?” You began to move back and forth on top of him, matching his quick movements.

“Yes.. I’m S-so close” he panted suddenly jutting his hips against your slickness.

“Well that's too bad, you only get to c-cum when I say so okay? You spoke through moans as Spencer’s pace increased, a familiar tingly warmth beginning to radiate through your core.

Spencer didn't answer back, too caught up in the feeling of your wetness between his cock which had become drenched in your juices. You leaned down and gripped his throat, a lot rougher than you had the first time, “I asked you a question.” you ordered and Spencer was quick to reply, hips still moving at a frantic pace,

“Yes! Yes Mom-” he whined but stopped himself stuttering to finish, “Only when you say”

He had no time to feel embarrassed at the name he almost called you as he felt his cock twitch signalling that he was close to release. Little did he know that you were already aware of what he wanted and you were more than happy to give it to him.

Spencer's pace began to falter and his nails dug deep into your hips his own bucked wildly underneath you. He sat up a little allowing gravity to pull you down even harder onto him, each time he moved his cock pounded right against your clit creating a rhythm that sent you spiralling closer and closer towards release. All the air was sucked out of the room replaced by a sinful heat as the both of you used each other to get yourselves off. 

Spencer whimpered incoherently, mouth hanging open, eyes screwed shut as he begged you to let him finish,

“Plea- fuck - please let me cum, please let me cumahh” 

Tears were forming in his eyes as you looked down at his desperate state, wrapping your arms around his neck you pushed your chest into his so you were as close as possible and whispered to him,

“You wanna cum?”

“Yes!” he cried “pleasee”

“Okay cum for me then. Cum for Mommy”

Spencer let out a choked cry as he jutted into you with an animalistic force, holding you tight against him as he cried out,

“Fuck Mommy, gonn- gonna cum. Thank you mommy, Thank you, Thankyo-” His own release interrupted him as he whined loudly into your shoulder hips rocking as thick ropes of cum spurted from his cock onto his abdomen. The sight of his pleasure sent you over the edge too, your orgasm crashing down on you as you rode it out overstimulating Spencer's already leaking cock. 

The two of you panted heavily trying to catch your breath, you leaned down and planted a sweet kiss on Spencer’s lips which he gladly accepted. He chuckled underneath you and looked at you with bewilderment,

“I can't believe we just did that.”

You giggled lightly back, running a hair through his messy hair and replied,

“I can't wait to do it again.”

[puckinghischier]

Sunburnt

Jack Hughes x fem!reader

summary: reader gets a little too excited on her first day at the lake, resulting in a nasty sunburn

notes: hi!!!! long time so see!! my writing slump has been brutal, but i had a lil pool day today and was sitting there thinking about what a summer at the hughes lake house is like while sunbathing and this little piece popped into my head. it’s not much and probably a lil all over the place, but i hope you enjoy!! i missed all of you 🥺

[3.3k]

(also, unedited bc it’s late and i’m going to bed. i might edit it in the morning, we’ll see)

You’ve waited all year for this. You have absolutely nothing on your agenda but two straight months of lake house fun and working on your tan.

Your move to New Jersey had really put a halt to any tan building for a majority of the year. You learned quickly that the winters were long and brutal, leaving little room to feed your sunbathing addiction.

You had tried to find a salon to tan at, but you quickly got bored of the bright lights and sterile smell. You even tried spray tans a couple of times, but you always felt you had more of an orange tone than a golden one.

You didn’t have to worry about any of it for a second longer, though. You were finally in the place you craved to be year-round.

Since the season ended early for the boys this year, the Devils losing their shot at the playoffs, you and Jack had packed your things and left Jersey the second all of his current post-season duties were over with.

Jack had managed to secure himself a pass on any other post season activities the players might be pulled for. He wasn’t required to return to the city until pre-season started.

Luke and Quinn were set to join the two of you whenever they could, but with Luke playing on the U.S. national team, and Quinn’s playoff run with the Canucks coming up, it would be weeks before either brother made their way to the beloved lake house.

Ellen and Jim were also set to join at some point during the stay, but weren’t yet sure of when they could escape their work for a few weeks.

This leaves you and Jack with the entire house to yourself for the beginning of your stay. You loved the other Hughes brothers, but with Luke living with Jack and your own roommate being a homebody, the two of you were rarely ever awarded with true alone time.

You were currently putting sheets on the bed in what will be yours and Jack’s room for the next two months while Jack unloads his car.

You were nearly done when you hear the sound of a suitcase being dragged up the stairs.

“God, Y/N, I know we’re going to be here a while, but it feels like you packed your entire apartment in here.”

Poking your head out of the open doorway, you watch as your boyfriend heaves your gigantic suitcase up the double flight of stairs.

“Well, I was going to only pack a few swimsuits and pjs, but I figured I should pack some real clothes for when the rest of your family gets here.”

Jack responds with a glare as he climbs the final step, stopping to take a breather. His face was a light shade of red and there were a few beads of sweat on his top lip.

“You know, I figured since you just finished your season you’d still be in pretty decent shape, but it looks like you’re going to have to stay in the gym all summer. Maybe do a bit more cardio and weight lifting, seeing as you’re struggling to carry my lil’ ole’ suitcase,” you tease, retreating back into the bedroom to place the decorative pillows on the bed.

“Maybe if you didn’t shove a dead body in your luggage I’d be able to carry it up the stairs like a normal person. But no, you had to pack cinderblocks.” He rolls the oversized suitcase into the corner of the room, placing his own measly duffle bag next to it.

You let a small giggle slip out, walking over to where Jack was standing with his hands on his hips.

Once you reach him, you place your hands through the opening left by his arms on either side of his torso, hugging him close to you. You let your chin rest on his chest as you look up at him, his own face tilted down so he could meet your eyes.

“Thank you, my big strong hockey player boyfriend, for carrying the dead body in my suitcase up the stairs. I’ll make sure to leave your name out of all this in court,” you joke, leaning up to place a small peck on his lips.

“Oh, how kind of you. How will I ever repay you?” Jack places his own arms around you, pulling you even closer.

“Hmmm…” you pretend to think. “How about helping me rub tanning lotion on my back and laying in the sun with me for the rest of the day?”

Jack acts like he’s mulling it over, raising his eyebrows while tilting his head to one side.

“I guess I can manage that. Considering the circumstances.”

You smile up at him, pulling out of his embrace.

“Yay! Okay, I have to go get changed. Set up the chairs for us?” You ask him, clapping your hands together out of excitement.

“Your wish is my command,” Jack says with a bow, playfully rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

You turn to open your suitcase to fish out one of the many bathing suits you brought as Jack makes his way out of the room.

“Find the sunniest spot you can! I need to make up for lost time!” you shout after him, hearing a laugh as he makes his way down the stairs.

Only 10 minutes later, you walk out of the sliding glass door leading to the backyard. You spot Jack on the dock down near the lake, putting the final touches on your sunny oasis.

You make the small trek down to him, pool bag in hand and sunglasses on your face.

“Wow, all this for me?” you announce your presence as you reach the end of the lengthy deck.

Jack had set up two tanning chairs on the end of the dock, an umbrella in-between them for when you inevitably claim you’re too hot and sweaty to sit in the sun any longer. He had a small cooler set up with waters, beer for himself, and some of your favorite fruity seltzers.

He had even found a small fan that he clipped to the arm of your chair to keep you cool while you laid out in the sun. He was fiddling with the small speaker he had under the umbrella as you approached, a country song flowing out around you.

“Only the best for my little felon,” he recalls your earlier conversation, raising up to give you his full attention.

Once his eyes fall on you, his mouth snaps shut.

You had picked your skimpiest bikini, wanting to get all of the risqué swimsuits out of the way before the two of you had company later in the summer.

The number you were currently sporting was a pale pink matching set. Two tiny triangles covered your chest, while a high-legged thong covered the rest of you.

You watched as his darkening eyes raked over your body, his tongue poking out to wet his dry lips.

“Hell, baby, you can stuff my dead body in a suitcase if you’re going to look like that while doing it,” Jack breathes out.

You laugh at his response, walking over and setting your stuff on your chair, patting his bare chest as you walk past him.

You bend over to grab your tanning lotion out of your bag when you feel a light smack on your ass cheek, straightening up to find Jack standing right behind you, his hand finding its place on your exposed hip.

“Y’know, we could skip this whole tanning thing and go make use of that big, empty house while we have the chance,” Jack lowly whispers in your ear, sliding his hand around to ghost his fingers up and down the soft skin of your belly.

You lean your head back on his shoulder at the touch, allowing yourself to enjoy it for a few more seconds before turning around in his hold and placing your hands on his freckled shoulders.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea and would absolutely love to….” You trail off, standing on your tip toes and letting your lips touch his ear as you speak. Jack gulps, closing his eyes as he feels your hand slip from its spot on his shoulder and continue to move downward, almost reaching the band of his swimming trunks when you stop.

“…..after we tan” you finish, bringing your hand back up to pat his cheek, causing his eyes to shoot open.

“Okay, not fair,” he pouts as you push him back so you can continue digging through your bag.

“You told me you’d tan with me, so tan with me you shall,” you remind him, finding the bottle of lotion and holding it out to him.

Jack fulfills your wishes and very thoroughly applies the dark lotion to your skin, only being reprimanded for wandering hands a few times.

The two of you lay out on the dock for hours, enjoying each other’s company while feeling the rays soak into your skin. You talk about Jack’s team and this past season, what the upcoming season might hold, what the plan is for when the rest of the Hughes family joins, and various other light topics.

At one point you let the soft music and warmness of the sun lull you to sleep, only waking up when Jack comes over and gently shakes your shoulders.

“Y/N, c’mon, time to go inside. You’ve been in the sun for way too long, you’re going to get burnt,” Jack softly speaks to you as you come back into consciousness.

“Mmm, don’t wanna. Too comfy. Warm. Five more minutes,” you fight him, turning your head over to face opposite him.

“Nope, not an option. Can’t let you get too fried on your first day. You won’t be able to do anything for days if we don’t go inside, Lovey,” Jack uses the nickname he stole from your own family.

You grumble in protest, but peel yourself from the chair nonetheless. You notice how much lower the sun is in the sky and wonder what time it is. You pull your phone from your bag to see you’ve been out here well into the evening.

You realize you and Jack forgot to go grocery shopping after you got here, your excitement about the sunshine causing you to forget any other chores you intended on doing today.

You grab your bag and follow Jack back up the dock, admiring the way the muscles in his back are flexed due to him carrying the still full cooler on his shoulder.

“Hey, J, what are we gonna do for dinner? We don’t have any groceries and I’m not sure if you want to go out, but-“ you’re cut off by your own stomach, the growl loud enough for the two of you to hear over the music still flowing through the speaker in Jack’s pocket.

“Yeah, looks like we’re going out, huh?” Jack laughs as your cheeks turn an even darker shade of pink than they already are from the sun.

You reach the house and help unload the cooler into the fridge before making your way up the stairs to rinse off and change.

When you step into the bathroom and undress, you’re shocked to see the extremely present tan lines already formed on your very red skin. You hadn’t noticed it outside, but your entire front half is a fiery shade of red.

You lightly press two fingers to the skin in-between your breasts and notice the two white fingerprints left behind. Your eyes widen when you realize how badly burnt you are.

You exit the bathroom to grab the after-sun lotion you packed before returning and turning the shower on, making sure you remember to lather yourself in the lotion after you’re done showering.

You peel back the curtain and step under the warm stream of water, but the feeling of the water hitting your sensitive skin causes you to cry out, trying to remove yourself from the water’s harsh sting.

Your scream of pain grabs Jack’s attention, causing him to rush up the stairs and burst into the bathroom, panic evident on his face.

“Y/N, what’s wrong, are you okay?” he steps into the bathroom, looking around for the source of your scream.

“Jack, we have a problem….” You whine, pulling the curtain back to reveal the state of your skin.

Jack’s eyebrows shoot up, eyes widening at the angry, red color of your skin.

“Oh Lovey…”

You stand with the curtain open, shivering despite the elevated temperature of your skin. You had turned the water to cold to avoid the searing pain again, but the cold felt like small knives poking into your flesh.

“I think we got a little too excited with the tanning lotion….” You squeak out, trying to wrap your arms around yourself, but any touch to your skin felt like fire.

Jack’s eyes fill with sympathy, but also guilt.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I should have woken you up sooner. You just looked so content I didn’t want to make you go inside just yet.”

“No, it’s not your fault. I should have set a timer or something. You know how I get,” you wave off his guilt, knowing you can get a little sun-drunk sometimes.

Although, you had never let yourself get this burnt before.

You blame the New Jersey climate and its lack of warm weather for your tanning needs to prevent this from happening once you do manage to get somewhere warm and sunny.

Jack still looks at you, not sure what to do for you, but not wanting to leave you by yourself, seeing as you’re stuck standing with your arms held out a few inches from your torso to avoid any unwanted skin contact.

“I don’t know how I’m going to shower, Jack. The water burns so bad, even on cold. But I have to get this sticky lotion off of me,” you whine again, frustrated that you’re burnt so badly you can’t even wash the tacky lotion off of your body.

“I’ll go get a soft washcloth, hang on,” Jack leaves the bathroom for only a second before returning with a soft, blue cloth in his hands.

He adjusts the water temperature and holds the cloth under the lukewarm water for a moment before applying some of your body wash to it and handing it to you.

You take the cloth from his hands and attempt to wash yourself, but any movement of your limbs causes your damaged skin to pull, making you whimper out in pain.

“Okay, don’t worry baby, I got you,” Jack takes the cloth from you, stepping into the shower, standing in-between you and the water streaming out of the shower head.

“Please, be careful, J, it hurts,” you whine out, eyeing the cloth in his hand.

“I got you, Lovey, trust me,” Jack tells you as he drags the cloth over your skin so lightly you’re not even sure it’s touching you.

He continues the feather-light motion slowly, until he’s cleaned your entire body.

“I have to rinse you now, okay? It might sting, but we’ll go slow,” he turns to rinse the cloth, letting it soak with water once more after there’s no traces of soap left.

You close your eyes as he squeezes the water out of the cloth onto your arm, the sting only slightly better than before, but bearable enough you only have to have him stop once.

After he rinses all of the soap off of your body, Jack turns off the shower and finds the softest towel in the cabinet under the sink. He pats your sore skin dry, then rubs the after-sun lotion all over your body before helping you into your pajamas.

“Jack, I don’t think I can wear this, hurts too bad,” you tell him when he hands you the matching button up shirt to the shorts you’re currently wearing.

“Okay, go topless, then. Won’t hurt my feelings any,” he winks at you, causing you to roll your eyes with a smile.

Once you were as dressed as you could stand to be, Jack helps you to the bed sitting in the middle of your bedroom. Luckily your back wasn’t burnt, so he helps you into a partial sitting position, piling several pillows behind you to prop you up.

He starts to pull the blanket over you, but you stop him, knowing anything touching your skin right know would bring you to tears.

“Babe, you’re going to get cold if you don’t cover up with something. As soon as the sun sets you’ll get the chills,” he eyes the large window on the other side of the room, knowing it’ll be dark in another hour.

“Jack it hurts too bad, I can’t,” you cry out, pouting at him.

“Okay, fine. We’ll figure something out later,” he gives in, walking over to the other side of the bed and sitting down.

He turns on the tv and attempts to find something for the two of you to watch when your stomach growls again, reminding you that you still hadn’t eaten since this morning.

“Jack, I’m still hungry.”

“Do you want me to go grab something?”

“No, don’t leave me here by myself, what if my skin starts melting off?” you exasperated.

Jack laughs at you. “Your skin isn’t going to start melting, but fine. I’ll go find the take out menus and see who delivers.”

Thirty minutes later the doorbell rings, signaling the arrival of your Chinese food.

Jack goes to grab the food and bring plates upstairs so the two of you can eat in your bed, knowing you don’t feel like trying to walk downstairs to the dining room table.

He sets everything out like a small buffet. You manage to sit up a little straighter and try to reach for a plate, but the movement brings a new stinging warmth to the skin of your arm.

“Jack, I can’t even reach for a plate, how am I supposed to fill said plate and feed myself,” you say, frustrated.

Jack doesn’t say anything, but he takes the plate you were reaching for and puts all of your favorites on it. He grabs a fork and moves so he’s sitting cross-legged beside you.

“Here, open up,” Jack brings a fork full of food towards your mouth, motioning for you to open your mouth as the fork gets closer to you.

You open your mouth and he shovels the food in, going back in for more food once you had chewed and swallowed the first bite.

“Are you really going to sit here and feed me that entire plate?” you ask him, slightly embarrassed that this is how your first night at the lake house is going.

“Well, yeah. You said you were hungry, right?” Jack responds, looking at you as if he thought your question was stupid.

“I am, but you don’t have to do this. You can eat your food. I’ll figure out something. I feel like a kid sitting here being fed,” you tell him, wishing you could cross your arms the way you usually do when you pout.

“Y/N, you’re sitting in front of me with no shirt on. I’m trying my hardest not to stare at your boobs right now because I feel it would be wildly inappropriate to be sporting a boner when my girlfriend is clearly in pain. I can assure you, the last thing I’m thinking about right now is you resembling a kid,” he says, seriousness lacing his tone.

You laugh at your boyfriend, causing the skin on your belly to burn slightly, but you don’t care. You love how Jack can always make you feel better about any situation, even one as embarrassing as this.

“Now, c’mon and open up. Your food is gonna get cold,” he fusses, bringing another fork full of food towards your mouth.

He feeds you an entire plate of food, then eats his own. He takes the dishes and leftovers downstairs before coming back up to take a shower of his own.

Once he’s done with his own shower, he brings the bottle of after-sun back into the bedroom and lathers your skin in it once again, hoping this will help soothe your skin a bit more before the two of you try to sleep.

He settles in the bed, and as he predicted, you’ve started violently shivering.

“Can I please put a blanket on you now? I know you said it hurts, but you’re going to shiver right out of this bed if you don’t cover up,” Jack pleads, hating to see you shaking like this.

“Yeah, we can try. But maybe just the top sheet only for now,” you tell him, still apprehensive.

He gently pulls the top sheet over your body, letting it fall right at your collar bone.

You thank him for that second coat of after-sun because you can actually bear the thin cotton on your skin this time.

“Better?” he asks, waiting for any kind of negative reaction from you.

“Better. Thank you, Jack,” you tell him, causing him to relax a bit.

“Don’t sweat it, babe,” he shrugs it off, moving to get himself settled on his side of the bed.

“No, I mean it. I’m sorry I let myself ruin our first night here. I just got too eager, I guess. Forgot I haven’t laid out in a while.”

“It’s okay. Really. It’s partially my fault, too. For letting you sleep for so long without making you move under the umbrella with me,” he turns the light off, sliding down next to you, but not touching your skin.

“Well, I promise, I’m wearing sunscreen and sunscreen only for the rest of the summer,” you swear to him, moving your hand to loop your pinky through his, not being able to handle not touching him.

“I mean, I’m all for it, babe, but I don’t know how my parents and brothers will feel about that,” Jack quips back. You can hear the amused smile on his face, even though the room is pitch black.

“Goodnight, Jack.” Is all you say, rolling your eyes and smiling even though you know he can’t see you.

Jack lets out a laugh, squeezing your pinky.

Your skin may be on fire due to your love of sun soaking, but your heart has been sunburnt for years; Jack’s own personal sunshine setting it on fire every second you’re together.

[thetriumphantpanda]

Baby Love | Joel Miller

A Trial & Error One Shot

Summary | It's coming to the end of lambing season, but there's one sheep left to give birth. Noticing she's struggling, you spend the night trying to soothe her, reflecting on your own experiences in her position.

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 2.7k

Warnings | Joel & Pretty Girl are still as horny as ever for each other so this is explicit. Mentions of ranching, sheep and animals giving birth. Mentions of human childbirth and pregnancy (I have never had my own children so please go easy on me), also mentions of how dirty it is when a sheep gives birth (blood/guts ect). Explicit smut including oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PiV smut IN THE BARN, creampie, Joel being a menace, PRETTY GIRL ALSO BEING A MENACE. No use of Y/N, no-outbreak AU.

Authors Note | It has been such a joy to write Pretty Girl again, I've missed her something terrible, and I'm so happy that the dynamic between her and Joel is still going strong, even if I have abandoned them for a while. I really hope you enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed writing it, and if there are any aspects of this families lives that you'd like to see, feel free to request it in my ask box!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Lambing season is coming to an end - something you’re eternally grateful for. It’s been a busy few weeks - early mornings and late nights for both Joel and Tommy, leaving you with the twins, Joshua and Ellie to keep entertained. Not that you’d have it any other way - your dysfunctional little family makes you happy every day.

With Joshua at school and the twins with Joel as he took Ellie into town for an appointment, you’re out in the fields with Tommy, making sure the remaining sheep yet to give birth are doing alright. You don’t profess to being an expert, but you’d like to think that your motherly instincts can go beyond humans, knowing when certain sheep are due and when some of them are starting to struggle.

It’s been an easy lambing season this year - most of the girls are seasoned professionals by now, needing only a light touch and a refill of their water more than anything, but there’s one sheep you are worried about. She was from lambing season a few years ago and this will be her first time. When you head into the barn, she’s stood in the corner of one of the pens, moving very little but bleating every once in a while. You know it’ll happen soon, but you’re worried about her.

“Don’t worry your head, sugar,” Tommy soothes, running a hand down the back of your head when it’s time to leave, “It’s nature, she’ll know what to do.”

But, led in bed that night, there’s something that you can’t push from the back of your mind. This worry that takes over you. She’ll be on her own in there, being one of the very last to give birth, and what if she’s scared? What if something goes wrong? You remember how scared you’d been when it came to having Joshua.

So you sigh, push back the sheets, and get dressed. You leave Tommy a note in case he wakes in the night and worries about where you are. You can’t say the horses in the small stable next to the house are enthused about having a torched shined at them in the middle of the night, but thankfully yours doesn’t put up much fuss when you saddle it and make the journey through the dark fields to the barn.

Flicking on the lights, you’re immediately glad you came. The sheep in question is led on her side, breathing laboured and fast. As you walk towards her, she kicks her legs a little and lets out a pained bleat.

“I know baby,” You coo, making sure the gate is shut behind you, “Hurts, doesn’t it?”

You fall to your knees in the soft hay a little way from her, hoping not to spook her, but she doesn’t seem all that bothered by your presence. She’s led down near the wall, so you crawl over a little and lean your back against it, stretching your legs out, just to be near her if she needs you.

The sheep lets out another pained bleat but she moves a little, up from her side and onto her feet. She walks closer to you, leaning down to prod your hand with her nose. You let out a little chuckle, letting your hand run down her head. The ranch dog likes when you scratch behind his ears, so you do the same here, which has her settling back down onto her side with her head on your thigh.

“It’s one of the most wonderful things,” You speak to her softly, continuing to pet at her head, “Having babies, but they always forget to mention how much it fucking hurts.”

She lets out another soft bleat, moving her body a little to get comfortable, or as comfortable as is possible when you’re in labour.

Watching her, you can’t help but let your mind wander back to your experience in her position. The first twinges of pain, low in your back that turned into pain everywhere. There wasn't a single position that was comfortable, no way to sit or lie or stand that could take the pain away. Then there was the exhaustion - after hours of waiting and more time pushing and pushing, there were moments when you didn’t think you could do it anymore, that you’d just close your eyes, drift off and wake up with a lovely, healthy baby perched in your arms.

But then, there’s that moment of relief, when the midwife had told you it’s okay honey, one more push and it’ll be done and it was and you could hear him crying and then he was on your chest and you were crying and so was Tommy. No-one ever mentions that bit either - how within seconds you could look down at a baby, your baby, and be completely and utterly in love with him. That’s what made it all worth it. That’s what made you want to do it again. It’s what makes you think you’d do it for the rest of your life if you could, just to have that one moment where that baby is in your arms for the first time.

“It’s worth it though,” You speak down to the sheep, “All this pain will be worth it in the end when we’ve got your beautiful little lamb with us.”

And it is. It’s all a bit dramatic in the end. The lamb gets stuck and you need to offer a helping hand to get it out, but almost immediately the mother sheep is doing exactly what she should, cleaning it off as you do the thing you’ve seen Joel do to help clear it’s airways, sticking a little bit of hay up one of it’s nostrils.

“Look mama,” You coo at the older sheep, a hand on her head as she works to get her little lamb clean, “Look what you did, you clever girl.”

Joel doesn’t know what he was expecting when he walked into the barn that morning, but it certainly wasn’t to see you on your knees in the hay, rubbing a newborn lamb with straw. He can see from this angle that your clothes are filthy, covered in blood and God knows what else. Did you…? Have you….?

“Pretty girl,” He speaks softly, not sure you know he’s there, “What are you doing?”

You turn to him and it’s clear to see you’ve done exactly what he thinks you have and helped this sheep give birth, the gunk all over your clothes is also wiped across your cheek and forehead.

“She-” You trail off, “The sheep, she was struggling and I didn’t want her to be on her own.”

He opens the gate to the pen, walking in to fall beside you on his knees, “Have you been here all night?” He asks, letting his hands give the small lamb the once over.

“Pretty much,” You nod, “We had a lovely talk, didn’t we?” You ask to the mother sheep who is standing a few steps away, carefully observing Joel as he looks at her lamb.

“Did she do okay?”

“I had to get in there at the end,” You explain to him, “I think it was stuck, so I just gave her a little helping hand.”

Once he’s satisfied that the lamb is okay he shuffles back a little, watching as you do the same, letting the mother sheep have some time with her baby, “You did a good job,” He praises, letting his hand run down the back of you head, “Proud of you, pretty girl.”

He helps you to you feet, bends a little to brush as much stray hay from your jeans as he can before he steps back and really takes you in. It’s unconventional, but there’s something about the fact that you’ve got your hands dirty, spent your night here on your own to help one of his sheep, and the fact that you’re covered in dirt and hay, something about it all makes his jeans go a little tighter, something that he’s not quick enough to hide.

“Are you hard, cowboy?” He hears you tease before you’re stepping forward, “Does the sight of me covered in blood and guts turn you on?”

He rolls his eyes and turns his back on you, leaving the pen now he’s satisfied the sheep will be okay, but he can hear your feet following him and then your hand on his arm to get him to stop.

“You’ve not gone all shy on me, have you?” You speak softly, gently moving him so he turns a little.

“Have I ever been shy, pretty girl?”

“Then tell me,” You shrug, smirk plastered across your face, “Does this,” He watches as you drag a hand over the mess that is your clothes, “Turn you on?”

“You wanna know the truth?” He asks, voice low, “I wanna bend you over and get you to shut the hell up.”

Joel can’t help but let his own smirk show when your eyebrows raise, but it’s a fleeting later in your guise, because you’re turning around, showing him your back as you walk towards the stacked bales of hay in the corner. He can hear the clinking of your belt buckle and the telltale sound of you unzipping your jeans.

He’s stuck to the ground as he watches you pull down your jeans and your underwear, baring your backside to him. You pull them all the way down, letting them pool at your ankles as you spread your legs a little wider, bending yourself over the hay in the exact position he had in his head.

“Come on then cowboy,” You say, head turned over your shoulder to speak to him, “Come and shut me the hell up.”

It’s been an automatic response of his for years now, that when you present yourself to him, in any way, he falls to his knees like someone praying to an altar, and today is no different. He’s on his knees behind you, at just the right height to grip his palms to your ass, spread you open wide for him.

He wastes no time, he rarely does anymore, letting his mouth close over the hole of your pussy, somehow already weeping for him. He lets his tongue dip inside, lapping at your slick. It’s been years and he still doesn’t think he’ll get over how good you taste, how it lingers on his tongue for hours whilst he goes about his day.

Whilst he’s lapping up your slick, he lets one of his hands reach around, thumb searching out your clit, little circles rubbed across the little bud. He listens, feeling his cock throb in his jeans when you let out a gasp and a little moan.

“Not so talkative now, are we, pretty girl?” He mumbles, barely pulling off your pussy to speak, before he’s switching his hand and his mouth, leaning just enough so his tongue can flick against your clit, one of his fingers slipping inside you easily.

He chuckles against you when you moan at the curling of his fingers inside you - he loves when he can reduce you to a whimpering mess in seconds. It doesn’t take him long to feel the telltale signs that he’s going to make you come either. He can feel you start to fluttering around the two fingers he now has buried inside you, can feel the way you try and tighten your thighs around his face, so he carries on exactly how he is - suckling at your clit and moving his fingers in and out of your cunt until you’re coming for him, a high-pitched moan of his name from your mouth.

Joel doesn’t wait, he can’t wait. He stands, making quick work of pushing his own jeans and underwear from his body, finally freeing his aching cock from the tight confines of his trousers. He spits obscenely into his palm, running a tight fist up and down his length a few times before he’s dipping his knees, rubbing the head of his cock against the slick hole of your cunt, listening as he pushes himself inside you, giving you every inch of him as slowly as he possibly can, until he’s sheathed inside your tight heat.

He leans forward, covering your body with his own, his forehead pressed against your shoulder as he gets used to the feeling of you clenching and fluttering around him. He can feel you wiggling a little under him, trying to get him to move, so he brings one of his hands to the nape of your neck, squeezing a little, stopping your movements altogether.

“Keep still,” He warns, “You need to keep still a minute, baby.”

There’s never going to be a time where he doesn’t need to do this. The soft, wet heat of your cunt and those first movements inside you that make him feel like he’s eighteen again, ready to come with a few thrusts.

He gives himself another minute before he starts pulling his cock out of you, slowly dragging through your slick until just the tip is left inside you, then he’s slamming himself back into you, setting a bruising pace.

The sound is obscene - there’s the wet squelch he can hear whenever he pushes his cock back into you, the slapping of his skin against yours and the way you both sound when you’re moaning each others names. He’s not going to last long, he knows it. All of this combined with the fact that anyone could wander in and see you has a thrill settling across his spine.

Joel leans forward again, letting his teeth bite down gently on the skin of your neck. He can feel the way your cunt is clenching, if he can just hold on, just a little longer, he can get another one from you, he knows it.

“Tell me,” He chokes out into your ear, “Tell me how to get you there.”

You let out a loud moan, turning your face to his, kissing him, all teeth and tongue and clumsy, “Bite me again.”

So he does, he lets his teeth sink into the delicate skin of your neck, sucking gently, sure to leave a mark, his hand slinking underneath your belly and down to your pussy, soaked bud of nerves exposed just right for him to use his fingers to swirl across it a few times.

“Oh my God-” He can hear you moaning, “Joel, fuck, please, don’t stop, just like that.”

Within seconds, he can feel you coming on his cock - cunt pulled tight, sucking him in. He feels the gush of slick from your pussy too, cock angled just right to have you squirting for him, something he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of. It’s the tightening of your walls around him that sets his own orgasm off - that flush of pleasure across his body that blooms even more as he empties himself inside you. He can feel everything, the way your pussy clenches every time he gives you more, sucking his spend in as deep as possible.

He pushes himself up off you a little, hands on your hips, frantically sucking in air. He groans a little as he pulls himself from your cunt, standing back to admire how his cum drips from you. He doesn’t linger long, bending down to pull your clothes back up, gentle kiss pressed to the swell of your bottom as he does. He lets you zip yourself up whilst he puts himself right.

“Well, that was a great start to the morning.” You muse, pressing up on your tiptoes, gripping at his flannel shirt.

He’s about to speak when there’s a bleating from the sheep in the pen behind you, you both laugh, “Someone else agrees.”

He dips down, kisses your mouth slowly, gently, “Go and get clean,” He speaks against your lips, turning you around and giving you a tap on your ass as he does, “You’re filthy.”

“Still turns you on though.”

“Go on, get outta here.”

[tetragonia]

A Wave of Feelings

Rafe Cameron x F!Pogue!Reader

Blurb: Rafe and (Y/N) got into an argument for God knows how many times, about literally anything when they breath the same air, ranging from a small accident to a heated one about their cultural beliefs. But something in the air was different this time. Or was it only in the air? Not something in their heart and mind when the two of you finally realize something big that could change your lives?

Note: I have always wanted to write an angst especially for this character and it has occurred to me one day that arguing/miscommunication plot is kind of my fave trope so here we are lol.

Warning: angst, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, argument, bad writing lol English isn't my first language. also, soft!Rafe in the end!

Words: 1490

The sun hung low over the Outer Banks as Rafe Cameron and you found yourself embroiled in yet another heated argument. This was clearly not the first time you both got into an argument. Some of them were heavy like that one time when your best friend asked you to go to the party just to talk to Rafe (which she did) but then he dumped her after the party and she cried for weeks on your shoulder, or some Kook-owned properties that limited your access, or some insulting banter between Rafe and your friends (that got you realized how much he hated JJ).

But most of the time it was just about silly things: when he knocked up your beer accidentally, when you sailed in front of him and accidentally splashed some water (it didn't even make his already oily hair wet), or when you were napping in a near beach and he claimed that it was his territory (he was in the Cut area, for God's sake!). You two always found a way to argue.

This time, your voices clashed like crashing waves, echoing off the walls of the old shipwreck where you had sought refuge.

"You're impossible, Rafe! Always acting like you own this place, roaming around thinking that you're so much better than us Pogues," you exclaimed, your voice tinged with frustration. Pogues always owned this place, not some rich snobby kids like him, you thought.

Rafe's jaw clenched, his temper flaring and pride wounded. He hissed, "Maybe if you Pogues have some ambitions, you wouldn't be stuck in the same place your whole life!"

Oh, this was definitely one of those heavy arguments.

Your fists clenched at your sides as took a step forward. Your voice trembling with emotion. "You have no idea what it's like to struggle, Rafe. You've always had everything handed to you on a silver platter."

For a moment, you needed to convince yourself that you saw Rafe's gaze softened. You wanted to believe that a flicker of remorse crossed his features before he quickly masked it with a defiant glare. "At least I don't have to scrape by just to survive. Maybe if you Pogues worked harder, you'd actually amount to something."

His words struck deep, a painful reminder of the challenges you and your community faced every day. You recoiled as if struck by a lightning, your eyes stinging with unshed tears and your face was red, "You don't know anything about me, Rafe. You don't know what I've been through."

Your argument drew the attention of Sarah who was nearby with John. She was one of your best friends and you felt nothing but pity every time you realized that she shared the same blood with Rafe. With a furrowed brow, she stepped between you two, her hands raised in a gesture of peace trying to calm you down.

"Hey, what's going on here? Can't you two go five minutes without arguing?" Sarah pleaded, her voice filled with concern and annoyance. She must be tired with all these arguments, you thought. But those were all about Rafe's incapability to control his temper! And that might or might not be your issue as well...

Rafe shot you a scorching glare before turning his attention to Sarah. "Stay out of this, Sarah. This doesn't concern you."

Your eyes flashed with defiance as you stepped forward beside Sarah. "You're the one who concerns everyone with your existence!"

"What did you say to her, Rafe?!" Sarah looked at you with a concern. You were one of her strongest friends and she rarely saw you tremble like this. "Come on, talk it out like an adult, will ya!"

Rafe's fists clenched at his sides, his frustration boiling over. "Talk? What's there to talk about? I said, stay out of this, Sarah."

His gaze turned to you, "You think you know everything, (Y/N). Being the weaker one of the community, blaming us for having some money. If you said that I don't know anything about you, then you also don't know anything about me!"

His words cut like a blade across your pain. Your expression softened, a hint of hurt flickering in your eyes and you were not sure whether Rafe realize that or not. "Let's just cut it out. You would never understand what I've been through. What we have been through. Let's go, Sarah. Let's get out of here."

Sarah watched the exchange with growing concern, her heart aching for her brother and her best friend. She knew there was something deeper at play here, something that neither of them wanted to admit.

"Come on, you two. Let's take a step back and calm down, especially you, Rafe," Sarah suggested, her voice gentle yet firm. She glared at his brother. His face was as red as you, his forehead frowned deep.

You and Rafe exchanged a wary glance before reluctantly exhaled a deep breath. As much as you hate him, as much as you didn't want to admit, you really want him to apologize. The tension in the air began to dissipate, replaced by a palpable sense of unease.

Sarah sighed, running a hand through her hair as she tried to find the right words. "Look, I know things have been tense lately, but I really can't bear another sight of you guys bicker over things. If you still want to do that, please not where I can see you. I need you two to be in your best behavior when I'm around. Especially with you, Rafe. I have enough of you already."

Rafe's gaze softened as he looked at his sister, a pang of guilt tugging at his heart. "You're right, Sarah. I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier."

Sarah still held her concern, but she relieved to see them finally finding common ground. "It's okay. Now I'll leave it up to you. I can't mom you around like this, geez."

She walked away from you both. She lived long enough with both you and Rafe and there was no way she did not realized that beneath the surface, there was a different kind of tension simmered—a tension born from unspoken feelings and unacknowledged desires.

You stood still, refused to meet his gaze. The wind blew your hair as the sun began to set. You started to feel the chill and instinctively hug your own body, fixing your shirt together. You accidently drew a sharp breath when a cold wind sent chills down your spine. You sniffed and looked over the horizon. Refusing to take even the tiniest glance at him, you kept looking at the sea while stroking your upper arm.

Despite the heat of your argument, Rafe couldn't ignore the way the cold seemed to seep into your bones, making you appeared small and vulnerable against the vast expanse of the beach. His heart ached at this view.

You didn't see that he wanted to reach out, to wrap his arms around you and shield her from the biting wind; his hesitation to offer you warmth and comfort in the midst of your argument.

But his pride held him back, a barrier he had built long ago to protect himself from vulnerability and pain. Yet now, standing on the windswept beach with you before him, he couldn't ignore the truth any longer.

With a heavy sigh, Rafe took a step forward, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke. "(Y/N), I... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things. I was out of line."

Your eyes widened in surprise at Rafe's apology, your anger momentarily forgotten as she regarded him with cautious curiosity. You had expected him to be stubborn, to be the usual Rafe: to dig in his heels and refuse to back down. But instead, here he was, standing before you with such humility you'd never seen before.

For a moment, the two of them stood in silence, the only sound the crashing of the waves against the shore. And then, slowly, hesitantly, you took a step forward, closing the distance between them.

"Rafe," you said softly, your voice barely audible above the wind. "Thank you."

And with that, Rafe's resolve crumbled completely. Ignoring the voice of doubt in his mind, he opened his arms and pulled you into a tight embrace, provided you with the warmth of his body against yours. He could feel the softness of your hair against his cheek and he kissed your head softly it almost gave you a heart attack.

So you were not hallucinating all this time. The glances, the gestures, the underlying concern for her.... He felt the same way, too.

In that moment, with the cold wind whipping around them, you knew that he had finally acknowledged his feelings for you. And as you stood together on the windswept beach, you both vowed to never let your pride stand in the way of your connection again.

[yoon-kooks]

paired & pierced | jjk

⛓️pairing: hotnerd!jungkook x popular!reader

⛓️genre: smut, fluff, college!au

⛓️summary: When your professor assigns a collaborative midterm project, you’re paired up with Jeon Jungkook, the quiet grumpy smartass who keeps to himself and doesn’t fuck with popular kids like you. If you can win him over, he might give you a taste of the tatted and pierced body he’s carefully tucked away beneath those oversized hoodies.

⛓️word count: 5.3k

⛓️warnings: dom!jungkook, sub!reader, unprotected rough sex, daddy kink, good girl kink, she's tight, he's big, fingering, mutual masturbation, begging, edging, orgasm denial, cumshot, dick tattoo, not the soft jjk i usually write

⛓️p&p masterlist⛓️

a/n: this is a request from @screamertannie !💖 im not used to writing dom/sub stuff but i tried!! paired & puppy-eyed is jungkook's pov✨

It’s become somewhat of a pre-class ritual for the gals to gather around your desk to discuss anything from the latest frat party hookups to guessing the lengths of your male classmates. The gossip doesn’t particularly interest you, and you’ve never once contributed to the cock talk. But who are you to tell them to leave you alone? If people naturally gravitate toward you, you should see it as a good thing.

“I heard that hottie Tim is single again,” Blue Hair Girl says, turning to you with the curious eyes of a true gossiper. “Y/N, you were hanging out with him at that party last weekend, weren’t you? Is he as big as they say?”

“Didn’t see it.” And you’re glad you didn’t. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt when he approached you, but he kept pulling you in for PDA conveniently when his ex was in sight. He was clearly using you for something you want no part of. In the end, you let him off easy by saying you had to leave early to feed your fish (you don’t have any fucking fish).

“Aw, that’s too bad.” Blue Hair Girl and the others give you a few pouty frowns.

“Yep.” Not really.

“Well, speaking of hotties, I’ve been trying to get Hoseok’s attention for a week now,” Nose Ring Girl sighs. She suddenly grasps your hands and pleads, “Wait, Y/N, you’re friends with him, right? Think you can give me his number?”

You wouldn’t call Hoseok a “friend”—he’s more of an acquaintance you happen to be friendly with, much like everyone sitting around you. But you do have his number. You have a lot of people’s numbers on your phone even though you can’t match any of their names to their faces.

“Here.” You flash your phone screen with Hoseok’s contact info before Nose Ring Girl. Her eyes light up like fireworks.

“Thank you so much, Y/N! You’re the best!” she squeals.

Toward the end of class, your professor announces something that makes your stomach turn.

“The midterm will be a partner project where you have to debug the code I assign to you and add on to it in a creative way,” she explains. “And because I’m nice, I’ll let everyone choose their own partners. Please let me know who you’ll be working with before taking off.”

You hate this. You’re surprisingly okay about the debugging part because the masochist in you kind of enjoys it, but you’re not okay with the partner part. When it comes to choosing partners, it never ends well for you. Because despite how many people you surround yourself with, you always struggle to find someone who chooses you before anyone else. 

You’re no one’s number one.

This time is no different. The girls who were so happy to be gossiping at your desk an hour ago are partnering up with one another on the other side of the room. Among them, Nose Ring Girl doesn’t appear to have coupled up yet, so she might be your only shot. Besides, you did her a favor earlier by giving her Hoseok’s number. The least she can do is partner up with you.

“Y/N, guess what?” She skips over to your desk with a big fat smile on her face. “I just texted Hoseok, and he asked to partner up with me. It’s all thanks to you, babe!”

“Oh, cool.” You try not to sound so disheartened.

She gives you a quick hug before heading back to the boy you indirectly set her up with. You’re happy for her, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t suck. Whether intentional or not, it feels like everyone who comes near you just wants something from you—love advice, a boy’s number, PDA to make their ex jealous, or even answers to the homework—which is fine to an extent. The problem is that people keep taking, and you’re tired of not even getting the bare minimum in return.

To top it all off, Big Tim is headed your way. Yes, you want a partner. No, it’s not going to be him. You’ll pick literally anyone else in the class over him. The question is: who else doesn’t have a partner yet? People are paired up left and right. 

Except for maybe the boy sleeping in the seat right next to you.

“Jungkook,” you say in a half-hushed half-hurried voice. The boy doesn’t move an inch. Maybe he’s dead.

You hop out of your chair, stand in front of his desk, and tap on the wooden surface in front of his face. Still no response.

Aware that Big Tim is inching his way closer, you crouch down to hide as if that’ll buy you more time. The boy in front of you needs to wake up right now.

You reach toward his slumped-over body and peel off his hood. There’s a good chance he isn’t dead and just didn’t hear you because he had earbuds in or something. You hope.

No earbuds. But you do find something worth noting—a trail of empty piercing holes up his earlobe. You don’t know Jungkook all that well, but he’s been in a bunch of your comp sci classes and you’ve never seen any piercings on him. You’d remember something like that because you’re a huge sucker for boys covered in piercings and body art. All you remember is that he’s quiet and always gets the highest grades on exams because he’s a genius or whatever.

“Hey Jungkook,” you whisper into his ear and tap one of his fingers. A sleepy eye finally peeks at you. Thank god he isn’t dead. “Wanna be partners?”

He sits up slowly, adjusts his glasses, and looks around the classroom before turning back to your puppy eyes. “Sure, I guess.”

“Good, good,” you sing, scurrying back to your seat. Partner secured. Mission accomplished. Just in the nick of time.

“Y/N, still looking for a partner?” Big Tim asks at your desk.

“I’m actually partnered up with Jungkook, sorry.” You give an apologetic smile. You really need to stop that. If you had just been brutally honest with him the other day at the party, he wouldn’t be here bugging you now.

“That kid asked you to be his partner?” He points a finger at “that kid” who appears to have gone back to sleep.

You nod even though you were the one who technically asked Jungkook.

“And you said yes?”

You nod again. Big Tim continues to stare as if he’s waiting for you to abandon Jungkook for him. Maybe if he wasn’t such an asshole in the first place, you wouldn't be actively avoiding him like the plague. He had his chance.

After several awkward seconds, he finally backs off and Jungkook rises from the dead once more.

“Why didn’t you just partner up with that other guy? It sounded like he wanted to work with you,” Jungkook yawns as he fluffs his bedhead around. He looks so nice and toasty in that hoodie. No wonder why he falls asleep in class so easily.

“That’s not what he wanted.” He wanted to use you to hurt someone else. And you don’t want to be taken advantage of anymore.

“What about everyone else? Aren’t you friends with everyone here?” That’s just the illusion you’ve created. It feels so fake.

You shake your head. “Let’s just say, if a house were on fire and these people had a choice to save either me or one of their actual friends, I’d burn down with the house 10/10 times.”

“And who would you save?” he challenges you. That’s an easy question.

“No one.”

“Good answer.” The edge of his lips curves upward ever so slightly. “Alright, if it’s cool with you, I’ll just do the project myself and slap your name on it. Shouldn’t take me longer than an hour.”

“Wait, I wanna contribute too, you know,” you argue. He might be a smartypants, but you’re not the type of person to slack off and make him do all the work. You wouldn’t be surprised if other people take advantage of him on group projects like this. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t even bother with fake social interactions with peers the way you do. You admire him for that. “We should meet up and work on it together over the weekend.”

“I’m busy,” he says. Bullshit. You can tell when people make up excuses to get out of things because you’re guilty of it too. The difference is that Jungkook doesn’t sugarcoat it with coverup stories like needing to feed your nonexistent fish. Why do you find that so attractive?

“Busy with what?” You flutter your eyelashes and challenge him the way he challenged you. The fact that you’re fighting over the right to help with the project is both silly and refreshing. Usually, it’s the opposite where you’re forced to plead with your group to pull their own weight. But here you are, practically begging the boy to let you do some coding with him. Him pushing you away is a huge turn-on.

“My newborn.” He says it with such a straight face that you take his word for it.

“You have a child?” Your eyes sparkle. That either makes him a young single dilf or a committed family man you probably shouldn’t be batting your eyes at. For everyone’s sake, you hope it’s the former. “If it’s easier for you and the little one, we can work at your place?”

For a long while, he just blinks at you like you’ve said something horribly wrong. Oh no. Maybe he’s still with the kid’s mom and now he thinks you’re trying to invade their space and be some kind of homewrecker.

“I was just fucking with you…” he admits. Why does it feel like he has secondhand embarrassment from your gullible ass? It’s fine, though. You much prefer being gullible over the homewrecker angle. Then he inputs his number and address into your phone. “But if it makes you feel better, come babysit my kid tomorrow.”

The next day, you wake up a little earlier, dress a little cuter, and feel a little more excited than usual. You’re usually indifferent (if not stressed) about hangouts and parties, but Jungkook is different. It’s fun talking to him, and you don’t have to put on a fake smile around him. He’s even got that hot grumpy boy vibe that you’re determined to win over.

After knocking on his door, you wait for a good minute but there’s no response. Maybe he’s still asleep or butt-naked in the shower. You would’ve messaged him that you were on the way, but you were scared he might have second thoughts and cancel the meetup altogether. You’ve lost count of how many times that’s happened to you in your college career.

Just as you lift your fist to knock again, the door swings open. The boy who stands before you has a full sleeve of tattoos, too many piercings to count, a whole man bun, and a handsome face that looks exactly like Jeon Jungkook’s. You didn’t know he had an identical twin with a totally different style. If he wore glasses with a hoodie and took the man bun and piercings out, he’d literally be your quiet neighbor from coding class. It’s fascinating.

“Isn’t it common courtesy to give someone a heads-up before showing up at their door?” he says with his phone in hand. Same grouchy attitude though. You love it.

Wait. You suddenly remember all those mysterious piercing holes you discovered on Jungkook’s ear less than 24 hours ago.

“Why do you look like that?” You point a finger at him as if your question isn’t already rude enough. Maybe you should rephrase it. “I mean, if I’d given you a heads-up, would you have thrown on a hoodie and removed all your piercings before I got here?”

“Maybe.” He lets you into his home, but you’re more concerned about all the sick art on his arm. If he ever rolled up his sleeves in class, you know you’d be too distracted to focus on the lecture. Perhaps that’s why he keeps it all hidden. He’s just looking out for you and your higher education. Yeah right.

“Why do you hide all of this at school?” You’re sure everyone would be coming to you for his number if they knew what he was hiding up his sleeve.

“Tattoos and piercings give people something to talk about,” he explains. “And I’m not really a fan of compliments or small talk.”

Oh. He’s aware of the physical and emotional impact his body art would have on anyone lucky enough to see it with their own eyes. Your poor body is already aching to see more.

“Fine, I won’t talk about how pretty I think your tattoos are.” Or about how hot you find his lip piercing. You’ve always wanted to kiss someone with a lip ring. You’re feeling pouty all of a sudden so you bring out the puppy eyes again.

He studies the way you shamelessly work your charm on him, and you wonder if he picks up on the temptation in your pupils. “I’ll grant you permission to give one single compliment,” he huffs, finally giving in.

You’re quick to wrap your eager paws around his arm and examine it like it’s your most prized possession. The problem is, he has way too many tatts and piercings to fit into a single compliment. You could write a whole essay expressing your love for each piece you see, and that doesn’t even include the ones still buried beneath his clothes.

“Well? Are you gonna fangirl over my tattoos or just keep fondling my arm?” Funny how he’s acting all impatient and bothered by the “fondling” but doesn’t shrug you off of him. In fact, he was the one who lent you his arm in the first place!

“I wish I could see all of them.” That’s your compliment. Because you love the lusting implications behind it.

You flick your eyes up from his arm to his face, and sure enough, he’s got his eye on you as well. It’s almost a crime that it took this long for the two of you to come together like this. You’ve been neighbors in coding class for the past few weeks, and yet you were too busy with the popular crowd and he was too busy not giving a fuck about them. All you want to do now is make up for lost time.

The only thing that distracts you from the boy is a puffy tail minding its own business in the corner of your eye. When you look down, you’re pleasantly surprised to see the tiniest fluffball dropping a mouse toy at your feet.

“Ooh kitty,” you squeal as you squat down to play with the pink-nosed darling. It’s so tiny it fits in the palm of your hand, and its meows sound more like squeaks. “Wait, is this the newborn you were talking about?”

Jungkook nods. “I found her about a week ago and she’s been a menace ever since. Especially in the middle of the night.”

“Is that why you’ve been falling asleep in class lately?” You like the thought of him scolding the kitten for zooming around at 4AM only to fall back asleep with her on his chest. You’ll take a cat dilf any day.

“Yeah. But it also doesn’t help that the professor never says anything important.” He picks up the mouse toy and drops it off with her stash of goodies including a pink bed, a pink blanket, and a pink bunny plushie. The kitten hops into the bed, cuddles up with her bunny, and has the boy cover her up with the blanket. What a spoiled little thing. “So what’s this project about again?”

“You’d know if you were listening!” Gosh, you can’t stand smart people who sleep through every lecture and still come out on top while you’re taking notes and working your ass off. You still want to fuck him though.

“I’m just fucking with you again.” He finally cracks a whole ass smile and it’s beautiful. You’re mesmerized by it as he scoots you over to the computer in his room. “I already finished it, by the way.”

So much for fulfilling your dreams of coding with an exceptionally handsome boy. With a dramatic sigh of disappointment, you run the program on his screen.

As expected, it runs smoothly, free of any bugs. He even threw in an interactive portion with a sleeping kitty. Total cat dad vibes. It’s great, and there’s really no need for you to tamper with the work he’s done. But you refuse to give him the satisfaction of being the one to carry you on this project. Besides, you have an idea of how you can spice up the program and expand on the kitty part.

You spend a good amount of time going through the code line-by-line and inserting small bits here and there. Once you get to the kitty part, you add in a function to wake up the cat and have it start dancing around to a few different songs from your favorite kpop group. When it’s all set, you run it back, earn Jungkook’s stamp of approval, and submit it for your professor to grade.

“Are you sure that Jim guy wasn’t trying to be your partner just to get a good grade? Nerd.” He leans on the chair over your shoulder. You’d correct him on Big Tim’s name, but you’re too focused on the way he looks at you with such gorgeous dark eyes.

“If that were the case, he would’ve asked for a threesome with you too, Nerd,” you fire back. This is the kind of banter that results from putting two smartasses and an immense amount of sexual tension in the same room together. You want more of it.

“Not particularly interested in a threesome with him,” he says rather casually. “Doubt you would be either, judging by that game of dodgeball you were playing yesterday.”

“Well yeah, he’s kind of an asshole.” You shudder at the thought of almost being stuck as Big Tim’s partner. It’s thanks to Jungkook that you escaped that fate. 

“Why do you hang out with those people anyway?” He spins your chair around to face outward and lays himself down on his bed next to the kitten who just woke up from her nap. She’s cleaning her paws like a good girl.

“I know I have a lot of shallow connections, but I figure if I surround myself with enough people, I’ll eventually have to run into someone I genuinely like, right?” You hop out of the chair, sit your ass on the edge of the bed, and convince yourself it’s to play with the kitty. She jumps down right away to catch a fly but you don’t chase after her.

“Found anyone yet?” he asks, gazing up at the ceiling like it’s the night sky. What did you ever do to deserve seeing this handsome boy and his tattoos all laid out on the bed like this? You’d do it a million more times.

“There might be a boy I’m interested in,” you hum.

“I bet it’s Jim, isn’t it?” he laughs. Why is “Jim” the one name this guy knows from your class? “You know, like a passionate love-hate type thing?”

“Fuck no.” You shimmy your ass closer to him and block his scenic view of the ceiling with your face. Now it’s you he’s gazing up at. You’re free to admire the tempting ring around his soft lip, the glimmering piercing through his brow, and all his beautiful features that have drawn you to him. You look him in the eye and lie because you know he already knows the truth. “Never mind, it’s no one.”

“Really?” All of a sudden, he pulls your body down against the mattress and climbs on top of you. One hand holds your wrists above your head while the other caresses your cheek. He leans in close but stops half a centimeter from your lips. “I was under the impression you were kind of into me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You were begging to work on this project with me yesterday, fondling my arm as soon as you got here, practically eyefucking me a minute ago,” he pauses as his hand unzips your jeans and presses into the folds between your legs. “And you’re pretty wet for me right now.”

You want to lunge at him and devour his lips to prove how right he is, but your arms are still being held captive. He smirks at your failed attempt to bite him. For now, you have to settle for squeezing your thighs against his hand to get the tiniest bit of stimulation. 

“So if it’s not me, who’s this boy you’re interested in?” he whispers into your ear as you feel his hand slipping out from your pleasure spot. “I won’t continue until I get an answer.”

It’d be kinda badass if you had the willpower to keep your lips sealed for at least a minute, but you give in after 0.3 seconds. You never had a fighting chance anyway. “It’s you, Jungkook.”

He smashes his lips against yours, his tongue practically down your throat when he says, “Good girl.”

The ring around his lower lip is cold to the touch, but you keep going in for more. You love the way he tastes—like sweet alcohol that encourages you to keep indulging in the high. He’s so addicting.

At the same time, he helps you kick off your jeans and slides his whole hand back into your panties. He swirls his fingers around, coating them in your lust before rubbing over your clit. The jolt of pleasure draws a soft moan from your mouth and gets your body nice and hot. Normally, you’d be eager to get your hands back to join in on the fun, but the boy somehow knows exactly how you like being touched and toyed with. Plus, you kinda like the idea of being so helpless beneath him.

Eventually, your panties come off, followed by your shirt and his. You get the perfect view of his full sleeve as well as the big shark tattoo on his ribs. If you weren’t so horny, you’d drop everything to analyze each piece in depth. But right now, all your weak mind can handle is admiring the shark.

As soon as he lets your wrists breathe, you run your fingers along his ribs, tracing the tattoo from head to tail. The lines are so smooth and pretty. He has great taste in art and apex predators. You’ll have to ask him for the artist later so you can get yourself a baby shark at your hip.

“Got any others I should know of?” you ask with two paws ready to tear his black jeans off of him. 

“Just one.” He presses his face into the crook of your neck and sucks hard to mark you as his. You can’t wait for Big Tim to see it on Monday. “You’re gonna have to earn it, though.”

You’ll do anything to get his pants off and find that final tattoo. You need to see his bare body in full, and you have an idea of how to earn it.

“Please?” For the hundredth time, you bring out the puppy eyes because that might be his only weakness. His body twitches a tiny bit, but you realize you have to take it up a notch with the dilf angle. “Please, daddy?”

The word not only makes your face hot but also taunts the bulge ready to burst out of his pants. He watches with immense focus as you unbuckle him and free his hard cock from all the fabric standing in its way. 

You assumed you would’ve had to search his skin for that last tattoo, but it’s staring you right in the face. A fat snake slithers along his cock, tempting you to stroke it with its seductive glare. You’d appreciate the design more if not for the fact that snakes eat cute little lizards like salamanders and chameleons, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t incredibly hot.

Without thinking, you wrap both of your hands around his length the same way you had with his arm. Jungkook would probably use the term “fondling” again if he wasn’t so entranced by your touch. If he’s like this with just your hands, you wonder how he’d fare with your whole mouth around him.

Just as you lick the drool from the corner of your lips, he lifts your chin up to meet his gaze. “If you do good today, I’ll let you have a taste tomorrow, yeah?”

Tomorrow is too long of a wait for a starved babe like yourself, but you nod anyway because you want to be praised again.

“Good girl,” he purrs as he removes the final piece of clothing over your breasts. Then he leans back to get your whole bare body in sight. “Can you show daddy how you want to be touched?”

You start by squeezing your breasts together and working your way down to your core. Your legs spread themselves open and your fingers glide right in. One hand pumps in and out of your hole while the other strokes your clit. You’re so wet you’d think you’d already orgasmed several times if you didn’t know any better.

With shy eyes, you glance up at the boy watching your every move. This is the first time someone has ever dropped everything to watch you touch yourself. You usually just tease your clit a little if the cock inside you isn’t enough, but never once has a boy given you his full attention like this. He might not take any notes in class, but he’s definitely jotting a few things down for the next time it’s his turn to play with you.

Your fingers speed up and your panting gets louder. How long is he going to make you suffer before he takes over? The one thing you need right now is for him to fuck you senseless.

But instead of getting handsy with you, he grabs his cock and forces you to watch—not that you’d look away anyway.

“Do you want this cock inside your tight little pussy?” he says rather calmly as he jerks off.

You nod as a gasp for more pleasure escapes you.

“Beg for it.”

“Please daddy,” you whimper, giving up the last of your dignity. “I need you inside my tight little pussy.”

“Such a good girl.” He throws your legs over his shoulders and pushes himself into you. It’s definitely a tight fit, but your body adjusts to him accordingly. You almost lose it when you hear the way he grunts your name. 

As he pounds in and out of you, you feel yourself getting dangerously close. “Jungkook, I’m—”

“Don’t cum yet,” he warns. “Not until I say so.”

You wish you’d known he was the type to torture you for one single release. If you’d known sooner, you would’ve tried to pace yourself. Now you’re stuck on the edge without permission to orgasm. You love it here.

In the meantime, he gives you some more sloppy kisses. His tongue doesn’t have to fight for dominance over your docile one, but he’s certainly not holding back. That, in combination with the forceful thrusting down below, is your definition of the best rough sex.

At some point, the pleasure begins to melt altogether into a foggy haze of feral lust. Your moans have been reduced to a broken record machine, and your poor body is just waiting to hear the word to finally hit its high. You don’t even know how much time has passed.

“You poor thing,” he growls into your mouth. On pure instinct, you tighten around him and feel him tense up. “Do you enjoy it when I tease you like this?”

You nod without thinking too hard about it.

“Think you can go another hour?”

Hell no, but you nod anyway.

“I’m not that mean,” he chuckles as his hands slide up and down your limp legs. “But good to know.”

He quickens the pace to build the pleasure back up with you still so tight around him. Your obnoxious moans and whimpers give porn star vibes. He better let you get your release soon if he doesn’t want any complaints from his neighbors.

“Please, Jungkook, I can’t—” you gasp, biting back the impending wave of pleasure. Your claw marks are etched into his ribs. “Please let me cum.”

Satisfied with your begging, he nods with the cockiest smile you’ve ever seen and gives you the okay. It feels like your whole body breaks into a million pieces of pure pleasure. Your back arches, your walls tighten even more around him, and your chest heaves up and down as you ride the wave out.

Not long after, he pulls out and pumps his fat cock over your breasts until they’re covered in his lust like two glazed donuts. He admires your glossy worn-out body for a good while before tossing you a hand towel to clean up. You feel timid and small all of a sudden. What if there’s nothing left to say after the excitement of sex has come and gone? What if he shrugs you aside like everyone else does once they get what they want from you?

“Did you really call me daddy?” He throws his pants back on and joins you back on the bed. You can tell he’s trying his best to hide a smile, but you see through him. It’s adorable.

“I thought you were into it, no?” Your face is flushed with heat again as you slip back into your outfit.

“It’s cute coming from you, I guess,” he shrugs as if he’s not aware of how weak he is to your baby girl charm. “I was just going with it because you said it first.”

“Well if you don’t like it, I won’t say it next time.” You give him a hmph for extra emphasis.

“I didn’t say that,” he clarifies, almost a little too quickly. You knew it. 

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Your voice is soft.

“Go for it.”

“Why did you invite me over even though you finished most of the project yourself?” It’s been in the back of your mind all day, although you did shove it away during the sex.

“Well, my little demon cat kept me up all night so I thought I might as well work on it. And you were hard set on coming here, weren’t you?” he says. You nod for him to continue. “But also, I wanted you to know that there’s at least one person in our class who’d save you from that house on fire.”

He’d choose you. That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to you.

“Yeah, but you hate everyone else, so I’m your only option.” Your smartass can’t help but point out the flaw in his statement. If anything, it’s you challenging him one last time.

“Maybe you’re the only option that matters,” he hums to himself as if those words don’t mean a thing. Who knew a grumpy boy could say such soft things? And who knew you’d fall for it? 

If a hundred shallow friendships is what it took to bring you to this moment—this boy on this bed—then you’re glad you took that route. And you’re even happier that that route ends where this new one begins.

[undeadcannibal]

imagine one of the Fem! rookies getting lil skeleton hands tattooed on her hands, and ghost just-

*INSTANT BONER*

Summary: Ghost can’t help but be turned on when he notices the Recruits’ new tattoos. Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley/Reader

Genre: One-shot, request(s) Word count: 1,138

Warnings: Mature rating, mention(s) of sexual acts.

A/N: Ooh, I had fun with this one, Anon. Was tempted to turn it into a full fic, but figured I’d be an asshole and tease y’all since I write tons of smut otherwise. Whoops! Anywho, thank you so much for the request, Anon. I hope y’all enjoy it~ Also, I apologize if this has a lot of mistakes. I’ve been slammed with allergies, mental stuff, and work, so I’m all sorts of fucked lol. ( Gif credit: xxx )

Ghost paid little mind to most of the rookies they trained. At least, he had before until he'd met you a few months back. Price had mentioned to 141 he was interested in possibly having each of them bring some new recruits under their wing to help show them the ropes. He figured if anyone could get any of them ready, it'd be his boys. Each of them eventually had someone signed to them to help train. Ghost's recruit certainly was interesting, to say the least. 

John had figured with Ghost being more reserved than the rest of the group, it might be easier if he had a recruit that kept to themselves more than the rest. He was thankful for that. The less he had to worry about babysitting, the better. Thankfully, that never seemed to be the case with the recruit Price had assigned to him. 

You went by the call sign Mouse. 

At first, he'd assumed it was for your small stature, but after he'd heard whispers from the others, he quickly realized it was due to your specialty for silence and speed. Apparently, you were just as quiet as you were quick in your fieldwork. That he could appreciate. Yet, aside from that, he didn't know much about you even after weeks of training together. 

Aside from learning the truth behind your call sign, he'd also come to notice that - surprisingly - you were covered in numerous tattoos.

Every time the two of you sparred together, he found himself discovering a new tattoo he hadn't seen before or a blank spot that had yet to be filled with ink. 

Eventually, somewhere around the two-month mark, he found himself asking you about them after a successful session. You'd finally managed to break out of a particular grapple you were struggling with thanks to the size difference between you two. However, Ghost refused to relent until you'd gotten the hang of it. Your enemies wouldn't play fair if they towered over you, so he had to prepare you for any sort of outcome to give you the best chance of survival possible. Still, that didn't mean he was so strict as to not celebrate the small victories. 

As the two of you were hydrating after training, he'd found it in him to comment on your tattoos for whatever reason. 

"Noticed you had a blank spot there." He'd comment, glancing down at the blank space of flesh on your hands. It'd surprised him to see your arms covered yet you still had yet to choose something for them. Maybe you didn't care for hand tattoos, he wondered... 

"Have any plans for 'em?" 

You paused in bringing your water bottle to your lips, pursing them as you hummed softly. Seemingly debating on how to answer his question. 

"Mm, yeah... I've got a few ideas in mind for them, but have yet to settle on anything yet." 

He was content to leave it at that had it not been for your next response. 

"I've got a few ideas in mind but haven't settled on anything just yet. Tell you what though, when I do get those spots filled in, you'll be the first one I show them to." 

By the time that'd happened, it'd been a few months later and he'd pretty much forgotten the interaction until he'd bumped into you again on his way out for a smoke break. You'd stopped to say hi and chat for a bit before he suddenly saw your eyes widening. A giddy smile broke out on your face shortly afterward. 

"Oh, I nearly forgot!" Raising the sleeves of your long sleeve top, you also quickly rid yourself of those pair of gloves he often saw you wearing. "Check out the new tattoos I got while I was back home." 

With your forearms and hands bare to him, he could see the fresh, black ink now covering the spaces on your appendages that previously clear soft skin. 

The moment he realized what the tattoos were, Simon was thankful for the strait-laced control of his reactions. Certain if he wasn't so strict with himself that he'd be giving off numerous micro-expressions showing his interest in your new pieces. 

Of all the tattoos you had to get, it just had to be a stylistic representation of your wrists and hands skeletal system. 

Rationally, he understood that the new set of ink likely had no meaning behind it - most of his own didn't - but a smaller, possibly more primal part of him wanted to puff up his chest. Preen at the thought of everything you could have chosen, it was something similar to the gloves he often wore himself. Only much more permanent. And attractive. 

Fucking hell, he was down bad over something that meant nothing at all. 

Just so he didn't break down and smile, Ghost took a long and deep drag of his cigarette before exhaling the entirety of the smoke from his lungs. Watching the vapors dissipate entirely before finally having it in him to look at you once again. 

"How'd you do during the fingers and knuckles?" 

You laughed sweetly and softly, causing him to feel an odd sense of pride in being the cause behind that laughter. Especially when he took notice of the way your cheeks appeared even softer and rounder than usual as you did so. 

Eyes down, soldier. Look at the tattoos, not her damn squishable cheeks. 

Watching you wiggle your fingers in his direction, you grinned up at him cheekily. 

"Pain comes with the territory. Besides, I kinda enjoy that type of pain, and it's also a hell of a lot cheaper than therapy." You joked. 

Simon felt like a pitiful man when he felt the familiar stirring of arousal deep within his lower belly shortly after. His mind already drifting towards mental images of you down on your knees before him. Opening his pants just so you could wrap those tattooed fingers around the base of his cock. Stroke him till he grew hard and began to twitch within your palms. Eventually - given your permission - he'd paint the dark ink with his release, claiming you in a way and--

He needed to stop his thoughts before he began to spiral down the rabbit hole that was his sudden lewd thoughts that came on with your new tattoos. 

He was going to need another cigarette as soon as he finished his first one. 

Clearing his throat, Simon glanced at you with dilated, bright eyes. 

"They look good on you, kid." 

Even if he wouldn't admit it aloud, Ghost secretly saw it as a secret bond between the two of you.

Now, you had a permanent mark of his favorite pair of gloves on your body.

The thought alone turned him on much more than he'd ever thought possible. 

[reidmarieprentiss]

Finding Home Again: Part Two

Summary: Spencer and Y/N reconnect again.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, smut (18+), friends to lovers

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, slight angst, alcohol consumption, reader wears a dress & makeup, bisexual spencer reid (it's canon to me), boyband reid in mind, the fluffiest fluff you'll ever read

let me know if I missed any

Word count: 25.4k

a/n: she's thick ,, i would write them forever ,, seriously pls request a blurb about them ,, even if you don't i'll probably write them anyway

part one can be found here!!

main masterlist

Additional warnings: oral (fem receiving), male masturbation, voyerism (Y/N watches Spencer), unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it), heavy grinding

It had been years again, and Spencer had yet to reach out. He hadn’t wanted to invade Y/N’s privacy by asking for her number through Adam, or having Penelope find it, despite the fact that he thought about her often. Instead, he kept the note she left tucked safely in one of his books, a reminder of the weekend they spent reconnecting in Napa Valley.

As much as he wanted to reach out, Spencer felt it was best to let Y/N take the lead. He respected her need for space and hoped that she would reach out when she was ready.  

Meanwhile, Y/N had returned to her life in Las Vegas, trying to move on from the bittersweet memories of seeing Spencer again. She buried herself in work and spent time with Billie, occasionally checking in with Adam and Elizabeth who are doing absolutely wonderful in their new married life.

In an effort to move on, Y/N entered the dating pool. Being 26 years old at the time, she felt that she should get some experience under her belt. She went on a couple of dead-end first dates, had some second dates that fizzled out, and even the few that did make it to three or more didn’t last as she either got scared and cut them off or they ended it with her.

Just when she was starting to lose hope, she met Alex. Alex was a very nice person, thoughtful and patient, and they hit it off immediately. Y/N felt comfortable around Alex in a way she hadn’t with anyone else, and for the first time, she didn’t feel the urge to run away. They had been casually seeing each other for about four weeks now, and Y/N was surprised at how easy it felt.

—

Years at the Behavioral Analysis Unit had left their mark on Spencer Reid. While he still possessed the same gentle spirit and brilliant mind that Y/N had always admired, he carried with him the weight of experiences that had changed him in profound ways. Spencer had been abducted by an unsub, struggled with drug addiction, been shot on the job, and so much more.

When a case brought Spencer back to Las Vegas, he found himself wondering about Y/N. It had been years since their reunion in Napa Valley, and she lingered in his thoughts. 

He had Penelope check if Y/N was still at her old apartment, curiosity tugging at his heart. But when he learned she had moved, he hesitated to ask Penelope to find her new address. The urge to reconnect was strong, yet he respected the boundaries they had wordlessly established.

—

Sunday was shaping up to be another hectic day for the BAU. The team was deep into a complex case, and the need for caffeine was at an all-time high. Derek and Spencer volunteered to make a coffee run for everyone, hoping the fresh air would clear their minds.

As they walked into a charming little cafe, the familiar hum of conversations and the rich aroma of coffee enveloped them. Spencer ran a hand through his hair and scanned the menu, trying to decide on what to order for the team.

Derek nudged him, nodding toward the barista with a playful grin. “Reid, I’ll handle the orders. Why don’t you grab us a table while we wait?”

Spencer nodded, taking a moment to glance around the bustling cafe. As his eyes swept across the room, he froze, his heart stopping.

There, at a corner table, sat Y/N. She looked radiant, her laughter mingling with the soft classical music playing overhead. But she wasn’t alone; sitting across from her was another person, clearly her date. 

Spencer felt a lot of emotions surge through him—excitement, surprise, and a hint of something else he couldn’t quite place. He watched as Y/N leaned in to say something to her date, her eyes sparkling with genuine interest.

“Hey, Pretty Boy, you okay?” Derek’s voice cut through his thoughts, bringing him back to the present.

Spencer cleared his throat, nodding slightly. “Yeah, I just... saw someone I know.”

Derek followed Spencer’s gaze and spotted Y/N. A knowing smile spread across his face. “Well, well. Go talk to her, Reid.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. He hadn’t seen Y/N since their chance encounter in Napa Valley, and now here she was, right in front of him, living her life. He decided to leave it be, he didn’t feel like being rejected again. Or worse, having a pleasant conversation end with her walking away, again. 

Instead, he shook his head and fixed Derek with a look that said, not right now. Together they waited for their coffee and quietly chatted about the case. 

Y/N was lost in her thoughts as she chatted with Alex. Her eyes had drifted when she heard his familiar voice. She could have sworn she imagined her date as Spencer Reid because there he was, at a table not even five feet away.

Gone were the glasses and slicked-back hair, now replaced with contacts and curls that framed his face perfectly. His usual cardigan had been traded out for a crisp button-down with the sleeves pushed up, revealing surprisingly toned forearms. The Converse he usually wore were replaced with polished oxfords.

Y/N excused herself and stood up as if possessed by an unseen force, making her way over to his table.

“Spencer...?” she said, disbelief coloring her voice as he looked up.

Derek took notice of the same girl from before, grinning widely. “Yes?”

Spencer playfully hit Derek on the arm, but his laughter was short-lived. “Hi, Y/N,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of distance.

“You cut your hair,” she said, taking in his new look.

“I know,” Spencer replied, a hint of no shit in his smile.

“You look so much older,” Y/N remarked, trying to reconcile the image of the Spencer she knew with the man standing before her.

“Well, four years will do that to a person,” Spencer said, his gaze hardening slightly.

“So will getting shot at,” Derek jested with a mischievous grin, trying to lighten the mood.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “You’ve been shot at??”

“We’re in the FBI, sweetheart. You gonna introduce us, pretty boy?” Derek asked, flashing his charming smile.

Spencer had mentioned Derek to Y/N during their time together in Napa Valley, though they hadn’t been extremely close then. Likewise, he hadn’t told Derek much about Y/N, keeping their relationship mostly to himself.

“Sure. Y/N, this is my partner Derek. Derek, this is an old friend, Y/N,” Spencer introduced them, his voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside him.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were together,” Y/N said, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

“Aren’t you here with a date, sugar?” Derek teased, raising an eyebrow playfully.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder to see Alex, who was watching the interaction with mild curiosity. “Oh yeah, yeah, I am.”

Derek chuckled, sensing the underlying tension. “Well, why don’t you get back to them and leave Dr. Reid and me to our business? Hmm?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sorry,” Y/N said, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “It was good to see you, Spence.”

“You too, bye Y/N,” Spencer replied, his voice cool even as his heart ached with a bittersweet feeling as she returned to her date.

As Y/N settled back into her seat across from Alex, she couldn’t help but feel a tug at her heart. Seeing Spencer had stirred up emotions she thought she’d buried long ago. She tried to focus on her date, but her mind kept drifting back to Spencer and the unexpected encounter, the way he had seemed different yet so familiar.

She found herself glancing over at Spencer’s table more often than she intended, unable to shake the feeling that something significant had just passed between them. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and longing, and she realized that she wanted him more than she cared to admit.

—

On the walk back to the precinct, Derek finally broke the silence. “Alright, Reid. You wanna tell me what that was about? Who’s the girl?”

Spencer hesitated, then replied, “Her older brother was in my grade. We studied a lot together. I knew her from a distance. It was only a little over a year.”

“C’mon now, I know there’s more. Summer romance, perhaps?” Derek probed with a teasing grin.

Spencer snorted. “No, nothing like that. We were twelve.”

“You’re killing me, dude. It can’t be that bad, just tell me.” He said, throwing his friend a tired look.

“Alright, alright,” Spencer said, relenting as he recapped the wedding. 

“I got an invitation to her brother Adam's wedding," Spencer began, a hint of wistfulness in his voice. "He was always kind to me in high school, so I felt like I should go, even though I was nervous about seeing everyone again."

Derek nodded, listening intently as Spencer continued.

"I hadn't seen Y/N in years, and I didn’t know if I'd see her. Her brother booked the room arrangements, and there was a mix-up.”

Spencer paused, recalling the awkward but unexpectedly comforting encounter. "Y/N and I ended up sharing a room because there were no other available ones. It was unexpected, but we managed to reconnect."

“What was it like seeing her again?” Derek asked, intrigued.

“It was surreal," Spencer admitted, a small smile playing on his lips. "She was different, but the same. We spent time reminiscing about our childhood, and for a moment, it felt like no time had passed. She was funny, charming, and... she really made me feel like I belonged there."

Derek chuckled. "Sounds like you two hit it off."

"Yeah, we did," Spencer replied, his expression turning somber. "But then it got complicated. We spent the weekend together, talking and laughing, but when it came time to really confront what was happening between us, she left without saying goodbye. She left me a note explaining that she wasn't ready for anything more."

“Oh shit, man… and you haven’t talked to her since?” Derek asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Didn’t want to get rejected again,” Spencer admitted, his voice carrying a hint of resignation. “She clearly didn’t know what she wanted.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Derek said thoughtfully, rubbing his stubble. “That makes sense. From that alone, she sounds pretty wishy-washy.”

“Mhm, drove me crazy,” Spencer confessed, shaking his head.

“In a good way?” Derek asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“In every way,” Spencer replied, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“You gonna see her again while we’re here?” Derek pressed, curious about Spencer’s next move.

“Not sure. She’s seeing someone,” Spencer said, a trace of dismissiveness in his tone.

“I see… but you said you were friends?” Derek said with a teasing smirk.

Spencer laughed. “Alright, you got me. Maybe I should talk to her.”

“In my extremely unbiased, objective, open-minded opinion, yes, you should,” Derek said, nodding sagely.

“She thinks we’re dating,” Spencer said, amusement coloring his voice.

“I know,” Derek laughed, enjoying the situation.

“Thanks for going with that. It felt really good,” Spencer admitted, feeling grateful for Derek’s support.

“I thought it might, Pretty Boy. You’d do the same for me,” Derek replied, sticking his hand out for a sideways shake.

Spencer firmly took his hand, a sense of camaraderie passing between them. “Yeah. I would.”

As they continued their walk, Spencer felt a sense of decidedness. Talking to Y/N seemed like the right thing to do, and with Derek’s encouragement, he was ready to take that step. 

—

Spencer was never comfortable with the idea of invading an innocent person’s privacy, especially when it came to Y/N. He had contemplated asking Penelope to find Y/N’s new address, but that felt like crossing a line he wasn’t ready to cross. Instead, he asked her to check if Y/N still worked at the same office in Las Vegas. Penelope’s search confirmed it—bingo. 

By Monday afternoon, Spencer had made up his mind to see Y/N. After a productive day at work, including a briefing with Hotch and completing a geographical profile for an ongoing case, he felt ready to take the plunge.

At precisely 4:45 p.m., Spencer arrived at Y/N's office building. The glass doors reflected the late afternoon sun, casting warm hues across the lobby. Spencer took a deep breath and positioned himself near the entrance, hoping to catch her as she left for the day.

He glanced around, adjusting his jacket and trying to appear casual despite the rapid beating of his heart. People streamed out of the building, but there was no sign of Y/N yet.

In recent years, Spencer had lost a lot of his shy demeanor, replacing it with a hard edge that came from the shit he'd endured. He was no longer the timid young agent who second-guessed himself. Yet, nothing made him feel nervous quite like the thought of a confrontation with Y/N.

In the past, she had always gotten the upper hand, often steering their interactions with an ease that left him both amused and bewildered. Not that he wanted to dominate their conversations, but being able to call the shots for once would feel nice. It would be a change of pace, a chance to show her that he wasn't the same person she once knew.

He couldn't help but wonder how this meeting would go. Maybe Y/N would piss him off enough for him to walk away this time. Probably not, but it was a good thought. He had replayed this scenario countless times in his mind, envisioning a confident, collected version of himself handling the situation with poise.

But deep down, he knew that Y/N had a way of unraveling him, of reaching into the core of who he was and drawing out the raw, unfiltered version of Spencer Reid. And perhaps that was part of the reason he felt so drawn to her.

Spencer took a deep breath, reminding himself why he was here. He wanted answers, closure, or maybe just a chance to reconnect with someone who had left an indelible mark on his life. It was a step he needed to take, regardless of the outcome.

And then he saw her.

Y/N emerged from the doors, her presence instantly recognizable. She moved with a natural grace, her expression focused as she checked something on her phone. Spencer's heart skipped a beat, a flood of memories washing over him.

He called her name softly, hoping to catch her attention without startling her. 

"Y/N?"

She looked up, her eyes widening in surprise as they locked onto his. For a moment, neither of them spoke, caught in a silent exchange of emotions and unspoken words. 

“Spencer?” she finally said, her voice carrying disbelief and curiosity. 

“Hi,” Spencer replied, offering a tentative smile. “I hope I’m not intruding.” 

Y/N blinked, processing his presence. “No, not at all. What are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to see you,” Spencer admitted, his tone earnest. “I’ve been thinking a lot about... everything. I didn’t want to leave things as they were.” 

Y/N hesitated, a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings rushing through her. Seeing Spencer again was unexpected, but a part of her felt relief—like she’d been waiting for this moment without realizing it. 

“I’m glad you came,” she said finally, a soft smile breaking through her initial surprise.

Spencer nodded, not wanting to give away his excitement at her words. His heart leaped at the idea that maybe she wanted this as much as he did.

“So… would you like to come to my place?” Y/N suggested, her voice gentle yet inviting. “We could talk, catch up?”

“Sure,” Spencer replied, trying to keep his tone casual even though anticipation was bubbling just beneath the surface.

—

Back in Y/N's living room, Spencer was determined to keep his emotions in check. He took a seat on the couch, his posture relaxed yet deliberate, ready to lead the conversation with a directness that was unusual for him.

Y/N returned from the kitchen with two steaming mugs of coffee, handing one to Spencer before settling into the chair across from him. She could sense the tension in the air, a blend of anticipation and unresolved feelings hanging between them.

“So, what’s been on your mind, Spence?” Y/N asked, her tone light but laced with curiosity.

Spencer took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. He knew this was his chance to express what he had held back for so long, and he didn’t want to shy away from the truth.

“Y/N, I want to be honest with you,” he began, his voice steady and calm. “Our last encounter—the wedding—sucked. You walked away without saying goodbye, and that hurt. A lot.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, guilt flickering in her expression. “I’m sorry, Spencer. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Okay,” Spencer replied, meeting her gaze with intensity. “But you did. And I need you to understand that. I thought we had something real, something worth exploring, but you ran.”

Y/N felt a knot tighten in her chest, Spencer's words hitting home. She had always known there were unresolved feelings between them, but hearing it so plainly brought it all to the forefront.

“I was scared,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of what it meant, scared of messing it up. I didn’t know how to handle it.”

Spencer nodded, taking in her admission. “I get that. I do. But you need to know that it wasn’t easy for me either. I wanted to be there for you, but I couldn’t if you wouldn’t let me.”

There was a moment of silence, the weight of their conversation settling in. Y/N took a sip of her coffee, allowing Spencer’s words to sink in.

“I’m sorry, Spencer,” she said again, her sincerity clear in her eyes. “I didn’t realize how much it affected you.”

Spencer softened slightly, seeing her genuine regret. “I don’t want to hold grudges, Y/N. I just needed you to know where I stood.”

Y/N nodded, a sense of relief mingling with her guilt. “Thank you for telling me. It means a lot.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the tension easing as they both absorbed the emotional exchange. Spencer, though still guarded, felt a sense of closure beginning to form.

“I’m glad we talked,” he said finally, a hint of a smile on his lips. “It feels good to clear the air.”

“Me too,” Y/N replied, returning his smile. “I’ve missed you, Spencer. More than I realized.”

“I missed you too,” he said, smiling softly.

They sat there for a moment, the silence filled with an unspoken acknowledgment of the tug they both felt towards one another. Spencer could sense the nervous energy radiating from Y/N, excitement and uncertainty that matched his own feelings.

“So, um, how long are you in town for?” Y/N stumbled over her words slightly, a bit flustered by how handsome Spencer looked sitting in her living room, alone, in private.

“Just until we close the case,” Spencer replied, rubbing his hands on his pants, feeling awkward. “Hopefully not long.”

“I see,” she said, her voice trailing off.

“Yup,” he said, trying to find the right words to bridge the gap between them.

“Well, I’m glad I got to see you at all,” Y/N said, offering a small, tentative smile.

“Me too,” Spencer echoed, his mind racing with thoughts of what this meeting could mean for them.

“Um, Spence—I, if you want, would you want to get dinner with me?” Y/N asked, her voice carrying a note of hope.

“Like a date?” he said bluntly, catching her off guard.

Y/N’s face flushed fully, something Spencer thoroughly enjoyed, feeling a bit smug at having elicited such a reaction. “Yeah… like a date.”

“Aren’t you seeing someone?” Spencer asked, the hint of annoyance creeping into his voice.

“Oh, uh, Alex? I mean, kind of, but—”

“Then, no,” he said firmly, cutting her off.

“No, Spencer, it’s not like that. It’s casual,” Y/N tried to explain, her tone pleading.

“Is everything casual to you?” he snapped, standing up abruptly. “You just run away when things get real?”

Y/N was taken aback by the intensity of his words, her heart sinking as she realized how deeply she had hurt him. “Spencer, that’s not fair—”

“Isn’t it?” he interrupted, his eyes flashing with anger and hurt. “You left without a word, and now you want to pick up like nothing happened?”

“I didn’t know what to do back then,” she said, her voice breaking. “I was scared. Of what it meant, of how I felt. I’m sorry.”

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair. The frustration he felt was visible, but so was the longing that had never quite faded. “I just needed you to be honest with me, Y/N. To let me in.”

“I know,” she whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I know I messed up, and I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. But I want to try, Spencer. I want to make it right.”

Spencer hesitated, the conflict within him evident. He had imagined this moment many times, wondering if he would ever have the courage to confront Y/N about the past. Now that it was happening, he wasn’t sure how to navigate the emotions swirling inside him.

“Look,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “I need some time to think about all of this. I want to believe you, but I need to know you’re serious.”

“I am,” Y/N promised, her voice steady despite the vulnerability in her eyes. “I care about you, Spencer. I always have.”

They stood there in the living room, the air thick with unresolved tension and a hint of hope. Spencer took a deep breath, feeling the weight of their shared history and the possibility of a future that might still be within reach.

“Okay,” he said finally, nodding. “I’m going to go back to my hotel, alone. Give me your phone number and I’ll call you tomorrow. But no more games, Y/N.”

“No more games,” she agreed, a small, hopeful smile breaking through the uncertainty.

—

When Spencer arrived at the precinct in the morning, he immediately dove into his work. The case was complex, demanding his full attention and analytical skills. As he focused on the files spread out before him, he failed to notice the bouquet of white and lilac roses sitting elegantly in a mosaic glass vase on the front desk.

After everyone got settled in and Hotch conducted the morning debrief, one of the deputies walked in, holding the vase of flowers.

“Hey, someone left these at the front desk. They’re for a... Doc Ock?” the deputy announced with a bemused expression.

Spencer flushed, caught off guard by the unexpected delivery and the memory of waking up wrapped around Y/N. He quickly stood up, his face a shade of pink as he made his way to the front of the room.

“Thank you,” he said with a nod, taking the flowers from the deputy’s hands.

As he returned to his desk, he could feel the eyes of his teammates on him, each of them filled with curiosity. He tried to ignore the knowing smiles and raised eyebrows as he carefully retrieved the card nestled within the bouquet.

Spencer unfolded the card, angling it slightly to avoid any prying eyes. His heart skipped a beat as he recognized Y/N’s now familiar handwriting.

Hey Doc,

I think it's silly that people usually only buy flowers for celebration or apologies. I also think that you deserve flowers all the time for any reason. Beautiful people should have beautiful things. I know you’re going to read into the meaning of the colors, and yes, I did my research. While white roses signify apology, I already said sorry, so you’ll have to take them for the meaning I intended: a new beginning. As for the lilac…

Xoxox

Petit Chou

Spencer couldn’t help but smile as he read the note, his heart warming at the thoughtfulness behind it. He felt a sense of joy and anticipation that he realized only ever came with being around Y/N.

“Who’s it from, Pretty Boy?” Derek teased, trying to get a glimpse of the card.

Spencer quickly slipped the note back into the envelope, maintaining an air of mystery. “Just a friend,” he replied, unable to hide the hint of happiness in his voice.

“Looks like a pretty special friend,” JJ remarked with a wink.

Spencer nodded, feeling grateful for the unexpected gesture and the possibility of rekindling what he once thought was lost.

“Yeah,” he said, a soft smile playing on his lips. “She is.”

As he placed the vase on his desk, the sweet scent of the roses filled the room, a reminder of the new beginning that awaited him with Y/N. It was a moment of hope and renewal, one that Spencer cherished deeply.

It was hard to focus on work that day, with Y/N heavy on Spencer’s mind once again. She was absolutely nuts in his eyes, sending lilac roses of all things…love at first sight.

—

Y/N received Spencer's phone call as promised. She was so nervous she’d miss it that she elected to work from home that day. When the phone finally rang, she took a deep breath before answering, feeling the anticipation and excitement.

“Hello?” Y/N said, a smile evident in her tone.

“Hey, psycho,” Spencer teased, a hint of laughter in his voice.

“I’m afraid you have the wrong number,” Y/N replied playfully. “I’m crazy, not a psycho.”

“Agree to disagree,” Spencer countered, grinning on his end of the line.

“That’s a heavy accusation coming from you, Doctor,” Y/N said, settling into the easy banter they had always shared.

“Lilac roses?” Spencer questioned, shifting the conversation back to the flowers she had sent.

“You figured it out, huh?” Y/N replied, a touch of pride in her voice.

“You knew I would,” Spencer said, his tone softening.

“I knew you would,” Y/N echoed, the sincerity in her words clear.

“You wanted me to know,” Spencer pressed, curious about the depth of her intentions.

“I needed you to know,” Y/N confessed, her voice carrying a vulnerability she rarely showed.

“Why?” Spencer asked, genuinely wanting to understand.

There was a pause on the line, the weight of the moment hanging between them. Y/N took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully

“Because it’s true,” she said finally, her voice steady but full of emotion. “I’ve always had a hard time expressing myself, especially when it comes to you, Spencer. I wanted you to understand how important you are to me. How important you’ve always been to me.”

Spencer felt his heart swell at her words, the sincerity and openness touching something deep within him. He had always sensed a special connection between them, but hearing Y/N express it so openly made him realize just how much he had missed her.

“Thank you,” Spencer said softly, his voice holding gratitude and affection.

“Anything for you,” Y/N replied, her words warm and reassuring

“I have to go, but I’ll talk to you soon,” Spencer said, regret tinged with the promise of future conversations.

“Okay, talk soon,” Y/N responded, a smile audible in her voice.

They ended the call, and Spencer stood for a moment, phone still in hand, processing the conversation. He felt a renewed sense of hope, knowing that this was just the beginning of a new chapter—one that he hoped would lead them back to each other, this time for good.

—

Y/N was stuck smiling like a moron after her conversation with Spencer, feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush all over again. Her heart was fluttering, and she couldn't stop replaying the conversation in her head, each word replaying with a sense of joy and promise. Thank god she stayed home from work, her coworkers would have had a field day with the dopey look on her face. 

That was something Alex never made her feel. Alex. Shit.

Her mind jolted back to reality as she realized she had another important call to make. The weight of her decision settled in her chest, but she knew what she needed to do.

Y/N took a deep breath, pulling up Alex's number on her phone. She knew it wouldn’t be an easy conversation, but it was necessary. Alex deserved honesty, and Y/N had to follow her heart, even if it meant ending things with someone who had been nothing but kind to her.

After a few rings, Alex picked up, their voice warm and familiar. "Hey, Y/N. How’s it going?"

“Hey, Alex,” Y/N replied, trying to keep her tone light despite the seriousness of the call. “Do you have a minute to talk?”

“Sure,” they said, picking up on the slight tension in her voice. “What’s up?”

Y/N took another deep breath, choosing her words carefully. “I wanted to talk to you about something important. I’ve been doing some thinking, and I feel like it’s only fair to be honest with you.”

“Okay…” Alex said, their tone cautious.

With that weight lifted, her mind returned to Spencer, and the possibilities of what their renewed relationship might bring. Y/N felt hopeful about the future. She was ready to embrace whatever came next, knowing that this time, she would be honest with herself and with Spencer about what she truly wanted.

—

Unfortunately, Spencer didn’t have another chance to see Y/N before the team had to return to Virginia. The case had wrapped up quickly, and duty called them back to Quantico sooner than he had hoped. As the plane soared through the sky, Spencer found himself staring out the window, his thoughts consumed by Y/N and the possibilities that lay ahead.

Once back in his apartment, Spencer wasted no time. He dropped his bags, kicked off his shoes, and immediately reached for his phone. He needed to hear Y/N’s voice, to let her know that he was serious about pursuing whatever it was they had rekindled.

He dialed her number, anticipation building as the line rang.

“Hello?” Y/N answered, her voice a comforting balm to his weary mind.

“Hey, it’s me,” Spencer said, smiling despite his exhaustion. “I just got back home.”

“Hey, me. Your voice sounds different here, did it get deeper?” Y/N teased, her playful tone immediately lightening Spencer’s mood.

“You’re an idiot,” Spencer laughed affectionately, the sound of her voice soothing the stress from his long journey.

“So first I’m a psycho, and now I’m an idiot. That’s a lot of negative self-talk, me. Are you okay?” Y/N quipped, her humor shining through.

Spencer got a good laugh in, thoroughly entertained by Y/N’s sense of humor. “I’m okay,” he assured, shaking his head in amusement.

“Listen, I know we didn’t get much time together while I was in Vegas, but I wanted to tell you that I’m serious about us. I’d like to plan a trip out to visit you as soon as I can so we can try dating. See if it even works between the two of us.”

Y/N was silent for a moment, and Spencer held his breath, waiting for her response.

“I’d really like that, Spencer,” she finally said, her tone filled with warmth and excitement. “I was actually hired by a magazine to write this article, and I think you’d be the perfect person to help me!”

“Oh, really?” Spencer asked, still gullible despite her teasing tone. “What’s it about?”

“Oh, you’re going to love it! It’s going to be called ‘How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days,’ and—”

“On second thought, I’m so busy here I don’t think I can get any time off,” Spencer teased seriously, playing along with her joke.

“Oh no! My perfect plan!” Y/N laughed, her voice a melody of genuine joy.

Spencer chuckled, his heart feeling light and full. “You got me there. But seriously, I’d love to visit.”

“Good, because I wasn’t joking about the visiting part,” Y/N said, her voice softening. “I really want to see you, Spencer. And not just for an article.”

“I want to see you too,” Spencer replied earnestly. “I’ll look at my schedule and figure out when I can come. I want to make this work.”

“Take your time,” Y/N reassured, her sincerity evident. “Whenever you can come, I’ll be here.”

They spent the rest of the conversation discussing potential dates and places they could visit together, both feeling the excitement of what lay ahead. Their banter was effortless, their connection undeniable, and Spencer found himself looking forward to this new chapter.

—

As luck would have it, Y/N’s job offered much more flexibility than Spencer’s, allowing her to take time off with relative ease. With that in mind, Spencer approached Hotch about taking two weeks off, explaining his plans and the importance of the time off. Hotch agreed, granting Spencer the time away with the condition that he remain available in case a serious case arose. In such an event, Spencer would work from Quantico alongside Penelope.

On the other hand, Y/N was allotted a two-week vacation on the condition that she take her computer and remain accessible for any urgent work matters. She readily agreed, buzzing with excitement at the thought of seeing Spencer and experiencing his world in Virginia. 

The month leading up to her trip seemed to fly by. Spencer had been called on another case almost immediately after their initial reunion, but they stayed in constant contact.

Now, the day had finally arrived. Y/N sat on the plane, her heart racing with anticipation. She pulled out her phone, sending Spencer a quick text to let him know she had made it onto the plane and that they were about to take off.

Hey Spence, I just wanted to let you know I’m on the plane, and we’re about to take off! I can’t wait to see you. :)

She glanced out the window as the plane began to taxi down the runway. As the plane lifted into the sky, Y/N closed her eyes, letting the hum of the engines soothe her nerves. The flight would be a few hours, giving her plenty of time to reflect on the past and the possibilities of the future.

Meanwhile, in Virginia Spencer received Y/N’s text just as he was tidying up his apartment, a sense of excitement coursing through him. He had spent the past week preparing for her visit, ensuring everything was perfect for her arrival. He wanted to share his world with her, to show her the life he had built in Virginia.

He texted back quickly, his fingers flying over the keys.

Hey, Y/N! I’m so glad to hear you’re on your way. I can’t wait to see you. Safe travels!

As he hit send, Spencer felt a flutter of anticipation. It had been a long time since he had looked forward to something with such eagerness, and the prospect of spending time with Y/N filled him with joy.

—

Spencer stood outside the baggage claim at Dulles International Airport, his heart racing with anticipation. In his hand, he held a small, handwritten sign that read Mrs. Ock, a playful nod to the nickname that had become a lighthearted joke between them.

As travelers streamed past him, Spencer scanned the crowd, his eyes searching for the familiar face he had been looking forward to seeing. The excitement was palpable, a mix of nerves and happiness bubbling within him.

And then he saw her.

Y/N emerged from the crowd, looking slightly travel-worn but radiating the same beauty and charm that had drawn him to her in the first place. Her eyes lit up when she spotted him, a smile breaking across her face as she approached.

“Spencer!” she called, her voice rising above the chatter of the busy terminal.

He grinned, holding up the sign as she walked toward him. “Welcome to Virginia, Mrs. Ock,” he said, his tone teasing but affectionate.

Y/N laughed, reaching him with open arms. “I can’t believe you actually made a sign,” she said, wrapping him in a hug that felt both familiar and new.

“It seemed fitting,” Spencer replied, embracing her tightly, feeling the warmth and comfort of her presence. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“Me too,” Y/N said, pulling back slightly to look at him, her eyes sparkling with joy. “I’ve missed you.”

They lingered for a moment, soaking in the reality of being together again. The weeks apart had only heightened their anticipation, and now, standing face to face, it felt like no time had passed at all.

“So, what’s the plan?” Y/N asked, her excitement evident as she retrieved her luggage from the carousel.

“Well,” Spencer began, taking her suitcase in hand, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I thought we could start with a seven-hour history of every event that has ever taken place in Virginia, followed by a pop quiz. And then, you could help me translate this new book I got from Korean to Russian.”

Y/N burst into laughter, shaking her head at his playful seriousness. “Sounds perfect,” she replied, playing along. “But before the history lesson, are there any high ledges I can stand on top of? You know, just for dramatic effect.”

Spencer chuckled, enjoying their banter. “Oh, I’m sure we can find a nice, tall building for you to contemplate life from. It might even offer a panoramic view of all the historical landmarks I’m going to lecture you about.”

“Excellent. I’ll need a good view while I ponder my life choices,” Y/N teased, giving him a playful nudge as they made their way through the bustling airport.

As they walked out into the warm Virginia air, Spencer felt a sense of happiness he had forgotten he could feel. The playfulness between them was infectious, a reminder of the tie they shared that had survived time and distance.

“Seriously, though,” Spencer said, turning to face Y/N as they reached the car. “I have a few places in mind that I think you’ll really enjoy. But we can save sightseeing for another day. I’m sure you’re tired.”

“Spence,” she said, gazing up at him with a smile, “I’ll do anything you want to do.”

A mischievous glint appeared in Spencer’s eyes as he replied, “Well, I was recently gifted the Kama Sutra...”

“Spencer Reid!” Y/N exclaimed, her cheeks flushing as she playfully smacked his arm. Her laughter filled the air, a sound that warmed Spencer’s heart.

He chuckled, enjoying her reaction. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. But really, we can do whatever you feel like. I’m just happy you’re here.”

Y/N shook her head, a grin still on her face as she settled into the car. “You’ve changed, Doctor Reid. I like this new side of you.”

Spencer flashed a charming smile as he started the engine. “You bring it out in me,” he admitted, glancing at her with genuine affection.

—

As they drove through the quaint streets of Virginia, the passing scenery was a blend of historic charm and natural beauty, with tree-lined streets and quaint buildings that painted a picturesque backdrop for their reunion.

“Virginia is beautiful,” Y/N remarked, her eyes taking in the scenery with awe.

“It is,” Spencer agreed, feeling a swell of pride. “And I’m glad I get to show it to you.”

The drive felt both comforting and exhilarating, the anticipation of the days ahead making each mile more exciting.

When they finally arrived at Spencer’s apartment, Y/N stepped out of the car, her eyes wide with curiosity and excitement.

“This is it,” Spencer said, opening the door and motioning for her to enter. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

Y/N stepped inside, taking in the carefully curated space that reflected Spencer’s personality perfectly. The shelves were lined with books, of course, and the decor was a mix of comfort and intellectual charm.

“It’s exactly how I imagined it,” Y/N said, turning to him with a smile. “Cozy and full of books.”

Spencer chuckled, closing the door behind them. “I hope it’s not too overwhelming.”

“Not at all,” Y/N replied, her tone sincere. “It’s perfect.”

“Well, I’ll show you my bedroom. We can put your stuff in there,” Spencer said, leading the way down the hallway.

“Oh great! And where will you be sleeping?” Y/N teased, raising an eyebrow as she followed him.

“In the bathtub, obviously,” Spencer replied with a smirk.

“Fantastic, we don’t need a repeat of last time,” Y/N shot back, grinning at the memory of their playful exchanges.

“Sure, Mrs. Ock, I know how much you hated it,” Spencer quipped, chuckling at their shared joke.

“I am not at liberty to confirm or deny that,” Y/N said, feigning innocence.

“Mhm,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes playfully as they reached his bedroom. “So, this is the bedroom, where I like to keep my clothes and lie awake at night thinking about serial killers.”

“Ohh, so relaxing,” Y/N said, taking in the room with a mock-serious expression. “Is this where you keep the Kama Sutra too?”

Spencer laughed, shaking his head. “No, that’s in a special place reserved for when I really need to unwind after a long day.”

“Oh, of course,” Y/N said, nodding sagely. “Everyone needs a little light reading before bed.”

They both burst into laughter, the easy banter between them an indication of the comfort they shared. 

As Y/N unpacked her belongings, she felt a sense of belonging that she hadn’t anticipated. Spencer’s space was filled with little details that made it uniquely his—bookmarks tucked into half-read novels, maps pinned to the walls, and a cozy armchair that looked like it had been well-loved over the years.

“Thanks for letting me stay here,” Y/N said, glancing over at Spencer as she placed her suitcase in the corner.

“Of course,” Spencer replied, his voice warm with sincerity. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Y/N smiled, feeling the weight of the journey that had led them to this moment. The excitement and familiarity, a step into the unknown that felt just right.

—

That evening, after Y/N and Spencer enjoyed some takeout for dinner, they settled on Spencer’s couch, ready to wind down with a movie. The room was cozy and dimly lit, the perfect setting for a relaxing night in.

“I’m not watching How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days,” Spencer declared as they discussed movie options, a playful smirk on his face.

“It’s a classic!” Y/N protested, leaning back into the cushions with an exaggerated pout.

“It’s literally not,” Spencer countered, chuckling at her enthusiasm.

“But I love that movie,” Y/N insisted, giving him her best puppy-dog eyes.

“And I do not care at all,” Spencer replied, shaking his head with mock sternness.

“Fine, asshole, what do you want to watch?” Y/N relented, rolling her eyes but unable to hide her smile.

“We could watch one of the Star Wars movies,” Spencer suggested, his eyes lighting up at the thought.

“Let me guess… Return of the Jedi?” Y/N teased, raising an eyebrow knowingly.

“No…” Spencer said, dragging out the word in a way that told Y/N she had guessed right.

“You just want to see Princess Leia in a bikini!” she exclaimed, playfully nudging him with her elbow.

Spencer laughed, the sound genuine and free. “I’ll have you know that Return of the Jedi is a pivotal moment in the saga’s narrative arc, with or without the bikini.”

“Oh, sure, sure. It’s all about the ‘narrative arc,’” Y/N teased, putting air quotes around his words.

“Fine, if you insist,” Spencer said, finally admitting with a sheepish grin. “Leia does have her moments.”

“Busted!” Y/N laughed, delighted by his admission.

Spencer rolled his eyes, feigning exasperation, but he couldn’t hide his smile. “What can I say? I have a soft spot for rebellious princesses.”

“Don’t we all?” Y/N said, settling back against the couch cushions. “Alright, let’s watch it. But I reserve the right to critique every plot hole and outdated special effect.”

“Deal,” Spencer agreed, grabbing the remote and selecting Return of the Jedi.

As the opening crawl began, Y/N and Spencer settled in, the familiar theme music filling the room. They watched as the story unfolded, occasionally pausing to discuss their favorite scenes or to laugh at Y/N’s witty commentary on the more dated aspects of the film.

About halfway through the movie, Y/N got up to go to the bathroom. When she returned, she was surprised to find Spencer waiting with a playful look in his eyes. As she walked around the couch, he held out his hand to her, signaling for her to take it.

With a curious smile, Y/N accepted his hand, only to be gently pulled down next to him, their sides pressed comfortably together. Spencer then let go of her hand in favor of wrapping his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer, and kissing her head softly.

“Did… did I just get romanced by Spencer Reid?” Y/N asked, her voice filled with teasing disbelief.

“Shhh, the movie’s on,” Spencer replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Are you flirting with me?” Y/N pressed, glancing up at him with a knowing grin.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Spencer said, feigning innocence as he tried to focus on the screen.

Y/N wasn’t having it. She proceeded to poke her fingers into Spencer’s ticklish side, causing him to squirm and laugh despite himself.

“Okay, uncle! Uncle!” Spencer finally conceded between fits of laughter. “Yes, I’m flirting with you!”

“Good, loser,” Y/N said, settling back against him with a satisfied smile.

“I’m going to remember this,” Spencer warned playfully.

“You remember everything,” Y/N teased, poking him gently in the ribs.

—

As they tidied up and got ready to call it a night, Y/N couldn’t help but reflect on how perfect the evening had been. The easy laughter and shared moments reminded her of why she had been so drawn to Spencer in the first place.

“Thanks for indulging me,” Spencer said, turning to face her as they stood in the living room.

“You gave me no choice," Y/N teased, "I hope you dream of me in the golden bikini.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go find my… reading material.”

“Pervert!” Y/N laughed, swatting his arm. “You’re so bold now.”

“Is that okay?” Spencer asked, his voice dropping to a more serious tone as he searched her eyes for an answer.

“It’s more than okay,” Y/N replied softly, her gaze meeting his with amusement and something deeper.

The two got ready for bed, Spencer being convinced Y/N had put on the smallest things she could find in her suitcase to torture him. Luckily, he wasn’t still the same bumbling idiot he was four years ago—he didn't get hard when the wind brushed by anymore.

He might not actually have the Kama Sutra, but he had finally indulged in self-pleasure. Let's just say, he holds himself together a lot better now.

—

Spencer could not hold himself together at all. He woke up spooning Y/N once again, albeit less like an octopus and more like a boyfriend. His very hard dick was pressing into her very soft ass, waking the rest of his body up very quickly. He swallowed, trying to calm himself and think of literally anything else, but it was no use.

The feel of her warmth against him, the rise and fall of her breathing, was all-consuming. Not wanting to scare her too soon, especially considering how things went last time, Spencer eased out of bed as carefully as possible, trying not to disturb her. He slipped into the shower, hoping the cold water might calm his nerves.

Y/N didn’t even remember falling asleep last night; she was just so comfortable in Spencer’s bed. She was surrounded by the rich smell of him, the warmth of his covers, and the knowledge that he was there. It was as if the sheets were wrapped around her like a cocoon of security, and she didn’t really want to get up.

She sighed contentedly, letting her eyes drift open, only to find Spencer missing from the bed. Much to her disappointment, he wasn’t beside her anymore. But the sound of the shower running from the bathroom clued her in to where he had run off to.

Spencer’s apartment only had one bathroom, and now that she was tuned into the sound of running water, staying in bed was a luxury she couldn’t afford. The pressing need to pee was becoming more urgent by the second.

Getting out of bed, she padded softly toward the bathroom, considering the situation. This might be too intimate for two people who said they would try dating but still hadn’t even kissed. But it was this or pee on his floor. Being the germaphobe Spencer is, she didn’t think he’d appreciate that too much.

She hesitated for a moment, then raised her hand to knock gently on the bathroom door. “Spencer?” she called, her voice slightly muffled by the door.

Startled by her voice, Spencer dropped the soap with a thud. He cursed under his breath, fumbling to pick it up. “Uh, yeah?” he replied, trying to sound casual despite the surprise.

“Can I come in?” Y/N asked, shifting from foot to foot, hoping he’d understand her urgency.

“...Why?” Spencer asked cautiously, the water continuing to patter around him in the shower.

Y/N couldn’t help but smirk, even though he couldn’t see it. “Well, I didn’t get to see you naked in Napa,” she teased, hoping to lighten the situation with a joke.

“Y/N!” Spencer spluttered, feeling his cheeks flush even though he knew she was just kidding.

“I need to pee really bad,” she admitted, the humor dropping from her tone to emphasize the urgency.

There was a brief pause, and Y/N could almost hear the wheels turning in Spencer’s head as he considered her request.

“Fine,” Spencer finally relented with a sigh, “just don’t look, please. It’s a glass shower.”

“Promise,” Y/N replied, her tone both relieved and playful. She opened the door just enough to slip inside, determined to keep her eyes averted as she made a beeline for the toilet.

As she settled down, she couldn’t help but chuckle at the situation, the familiarity of it feeling strangely comforting. “You know, this is definitely a new level of intimacy for us.”

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head as he tried to focus on rinsing off. “Yeah, well, just another day in the life of Dr. Reid.”

Y/N finished up and washed her hands, keeping her back turned to him the entire time to respect his request for privacy. As she headed back out, she paused by the door, glancing over her shoulder with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Thanks, Spence. Oh, one more thing,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice.

“What’s that?” Spencer asked, glancing at her curiously from behind the glass shower door.

“Did your ass get bigger?” she quipped, unable to resist the opportunity to tease him a little more.

Spencer burst into laughter, the sound echoing off the tiles. “Get out!” he exclaimed, shaking his head in amused disbelief.

Y/N grinned, giving him a cheeky wave before slipping out of the bathroom, feeling lighthearted. She left Spencer to finish his shower with amusement and affection for the woman who had quickly become such an important part of his life.

—

Spencer and Y/N spent the day exploring all of Spencer’s favorite spots. They strolled through parks, visited local bookstores, and even stopped by a quaint café Spencer adored. Y/N found herself overflowing with adoration for the man who seemed to find joy and wonder in the simplest of things. She admired the way he spoke passionately about his interests, the light in his eyes when he shared a new fact, and the genuine kindness he showed to everyone they encountered.

Spencer, on the other hand, felt his heart swell with every smile Y/N gave him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he might be falling in love with her, something that both excited and terrified him. Her laughter, her curiosity, and the way she made him feel like he was the only person in the world were intoxicating.

As the day turned to evening, they ended up back at Spencer’s apartment per his request that they dress nicely for dinner reservations he had made at a fancy restaurant. The thought of a romantic evening filled him with anticipation and a hint of nervousness.

Spencer left Y/N to use the bathroom, only needing to change clothes and tousle his hair a bit. He opted for a crisp, tailored suit that brought out the color of his eyes, feeling it was a special enough occasion to warrant the extra effort.

Y/N, meanwhile, took her time selecting the best dress she had packed, one that hugged her curves just right and made her feel confident. She applied slightly more makeup than usual, enhancing her features and adding a touch of elegance to her appearance. She wanted to impress, knowing that this was a night she wanted to remember.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Spencer was sitting in his living room, engrossed in a book. He looked up as she entered, and his eyes widened in appreciation.

“Ready to go?” Y/N asked, trying to sound casual despite the flutter of nerves in her stomach.

Spencer glanced over his shoulder, the angle making his jaw look extra sharp. His breath caught for a moment as he took in her transformation. “Jesus, I didn’t know you could clean up that well.”

“Shut up, Doctor,” Y/N replied, blushing under his intense gaze.

“I’m serious,” Spencer said, putting his book on the table and standing up. He approached her, his eyes never leaving hers. “You’re breathtaking.”

“And you’re cheesy,” Y/N said, trying to deflect the compliment but unable to hide her smile.

“You love it,” Spencer teased, his voice low and playful.

“The jury’s still out,” Y/N replied, though her voice betrayed her amusement.

“Yeah?” Spencer asked, stepping closer until he was right in front of her, his breath fanning over her face. His proximity sent a thrill through her, and she felt her heart skip a beat.

“Uh-huh,” Y/N managed to say, her voice a whisper as she met his gaze, feeling the tension and anticipation crackling in the air between them.

Spencer reached up and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his touch soft and reverent. He looked at her with such warmth and sincerity that she felt herself melt under his gaze.

“Let’s go,” Spencer said softly, offering his arm to her.

Y/N took it, feeling a sense of excitement as they headed out the door, ready to enjoy an evening that promised to be as magical as the day they had shared.

—

After being seated in the gorgeous restaurant, Y/N and Spencer settled into the comfortable ambiance, surrounded by soft candlelight and the murmur of conversations from other patrons. The place was elegant, with high ceilings and ornate decorations that gave it a timeless charm. Spencer had chosen well, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement at the thought of this special evening.

As they perused the menu, the conversation naturally flowed into laughter and stories, each taking turns recounting moments that had shaped their lives since they last saw each other.

“I swear!” Y/N exclaimed, her eyes wide with amusement. “Hand to my heart, Adam thought he could handle watching Lizzie give birth. He took one look at the head crowning and passed out!”

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head. “That sounds like Adam. Always so confident until reality hits.”

Y/N laughed, nodding in agreement. “Lizzie was not impressed. She had to finish giving birth and then tend to him once he came around. He claims he wasn’t out for long, but I swear it was a solid minute before he came to.”

“I can just imagine the look on Lizzie’s face,” Spencer said, grinning. “She must have been livid.”

“Oh, she was,” Y/N confirmed, giggling. “But you know Adam. He made it up to her with his charm and a dozen apologies.”

Spencer leaned back in his chair, enjoying the easy rapport they shared. It felt good to laugh and reminisce, the years between them melting away with every shared story.

“What about you?” Y/N asked, her curiosity piqued. “Any memorable moments you’ve had to deal with recently?”

Spencer paused, considering the past few years. “Well, there was that time we had to deal with a bomb threat at a library. I was in the middle of reshelving a section when they called in the evacuation.”

“A bomb threat?” Y/N said, eyes widening. “That sounds terrifying.”

“It was,” Spencer admitted, though his tone remained light. “But it all worked out in the end. The threat was a hoax, but not before my team teased me about being more concerned for the books than myself.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “You would be more worried about the books.”

“Guilty as charged,” Spencer replied, a playful glint in his eyes.

—

As the evening unfolded, the restaurant's attentive waitstaff served them a series of exquisite dishes, each one more delicious than the last. Spencer and Y/N shared bites of their meals, their mutual enjoyment adding another layer of intimacy to the night.

“Have you ever tried this before?” Spencer asked, offering a forkful of his dish to Y/N.

“No, but it looks amazing,” Y/N said, leaning forward to taste it. “Wow, that’s incredible.”

“I thought you’d like it,” Spencer said, pleased with her reaction.

Y/N returned the favor, offering him a bite from her plate. “You have to try this one. It’s divine.”

Spencer obliged, savoring the flavor. “You have excellent taste,” he complimented, earning a satisfied smile from Y/N.

As they continued to share their meal, Spencer found himself more and more captivated by Y/N. Her laughter, her stories, the way her eyes lit up with enthusiasm—it all made him realize just how much he had missed having her in his life.

—

Toward the end of the meal, as they lingered over dessert, Spencer took a moment to reflect on everything that had led to this point. The twists and turns, the missed connections, and finally, the chance to reconnect.

“Y/N,” Spencer said, his voice carrying a note of sincerity that caught her attention. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Y/N looked at him, her expression softening. “I am too, Spencer. I’ve missed this—us.”

There was a moment of silence, but it was a comfortable one, filled with the understanding and union that words sometimes failed to express. Spencer reached across the table, his fingers lightly grazing Y/N’s hand, feeling the warmth and softness of her skin against his own.

Her heart fluttered at the contact, and she couldn’t help but smile, feeling a sense of happiness and contentment.

“I’ve thought about this so many times,” Y/N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “About us, about what might have been if we’d stayed in touch.”

Spencer nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. “Me too. It’s funny how life works sometimes, bringing people back together when you least expect it.”

Y/N laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. “I guess some things are just meant to be, even if they take a little detour.”

Their eyes met, and Spencer felt a swell of emotion, realizing that this was a moment he wanted to remember forever. It wasn’t just about the past or the what-ifs, but about the present and the possibilities that lay ahead.

“So, what do you think?” Spencer asked, his tone playful yet sincere. “About us trying to make this work?”

Y/N took a deep breath, considering the question. It was a big step, but one she was ready to take.

“I think it’s worth a shot,” she replied, her eyes shining with hope. “I’d like to see where this goes, Spencer. I really would.”

Spencer’s heart soared at her words, the promise of a new beginning filling him with excitement and anticipation.

—

As they finished their dessert and prepared to leave the restaurant, Spencer and Y/N felt a sense of optimism and joy. The night had been perfect, a blend of laughter, shared memories, and heartfelt conversations that brought them closer together than ever before.

“Ready to head back?” Spencer asked, offering his hand to help her up from the table.

“Ready when you are,” Y/N replied, taking his hand and feeling a thrill at the touch.

They walked out of the restaurant into the cool evening air, hand in hand, the stars twinkling above them like a promise of new adventures to come.

As they strolled back to Spencer’s apartment, the city lights casting a warm glow around them, they talked about everything and nothing, the conversation flowing as naturally as it always had.

When they reached the apartment, Spencer held the door open for her, a gentlemanly gesture that made Y/N’s heart flutter.

“Thank you,” she said, stepping inside and feeling the comfort of his presence beside her.

“My pleasure,” Spencer replied, a smile tugging at his lips.

Once inside, Y/N kicked off her heels and sighed contentedly, the evening having been everything she had hoped for and more. Spencer joined her on the couch, and they sat together, savoring the moment.

“Today was amazing,” Y/N said, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I’m glad,” Spencer replied, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her closer. “I wanted it to be special.”

“It was,” Y/N said, her voice filled with gratitude and affection. “Thank you, Spencer.”

They sat there for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, the quiet of the apartment a soothing backdrop to their thoughts and feelings. It was a moment of peace and reflection. 

“I don’t want this to end,” Spencer said softly, voicing the thought that had been on his mind all night.

“It doesn’t have to,” Y/N replied, lifting her head to look at him.

Their eyes met, and in that moment, everything felt right. The past, the present, and the future all seemed to converge, leading them to this point where anything was possible.

Spencer leaned in, closing the distance between them, and kissed her gently, the touch a promise of what lay ahead. Y/N kissed him back, feeling the warmth and love that had been building between them, finally finding its place in the world they were creating together.

The kiss deepened as Spencer’s hands cupped Y/N’s face, his thumbs gently stroking her cheeks. The tender touch sent shivers down her spine, and she leaned into him, savoring the spark that felt both electric and comforting. Spencer’s fingers slowly tangled in her hair, pulling her even closer as he let himself get lost in the moment.

Y/N’s hands found their way to Spencer’s chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath his shirt. She marveled at the strength and tenderness in him, the way he seemed to know exactly what she needed. As if sensing her thoughts, Spencer pulled back slightly, gazing into her eyes with intensity and affection.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice a soft murmur that wrapped around her like a warm embrace.

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection and desire. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she teased, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest.

With a playful glint in his eye, Spencer leaned in again, capturing her lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle this time. It was a kiss filled with passion and urgency, a reflection of the emotions that had been simmering between them for so long.

Spencer’s hands moved to her waist, pulling her onto his lap as he deepened the kiss. Y/N could feel the heat radiating from his growing erection, a fire that matched her own. The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them and the affinity they shared.

“Are you okay with this?” Spencer asked softly, pulling back just enough to search her eyes for any sign of hesitation.

Y/N nodded, her breath hitching as she felt his hands trail up her sides. “More than okay,” she assured him, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Spencer smiled, his eyes darkening with desire. He took her hand and guided it to the buttons of his shirt, silently inviting her to take the next step. Y/N’s fingers worked quickly, undoing each button with anticipation and eagerness.

As she pushed the fabric aside, revealing the toned muscles beneath, she couldn’t help but marvel at the sight before her. Spencer was beautiful, a perfect blend of strength and vulnerability, and she felt a surge of emotion at the thought of being here with him.

Spencer seemed to read her thoughts, and he reached for the zipper of her dress, his touch both gentle and confident. The sound of the zipper filled the room, a quiet yet thrilling reminder of the moment they were sharing.

But as the fabric loosened around her shoulders, Y/N felt a sudden rush of emotions and pulled back slightly, placing her hand gently on Spencer’s chest. “Wait,” she said softly.

Spencer immediately froze, concern flashing across his face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, searching her eyes for any sign of discomfort.

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. “This is a lot,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. The emotions swirling inside her were intense; desire, fear, and longing.

Spencer swore he could feel his heart break, the words echoing painfully in his mind. Y/N had said very similar words to him four years ago before she left, and he couldn’t help but fear that history might repeat itself.

“Okay, let's slow down,” Spencer said gently, his voice calm and reassuring as he moved his hand away from her dress. He wanted to give her space and reassurance, making sure she felt comfortable and safe.

Y/N looked up at him, relief flooding through her as she saw the understanding and care in his eyes. “I just—I’ve wanted you for so long, and I’m a little overwhelmed,” she confessed, her cheeks flushing with vulnerability. “We have time. Can we take baby steps?”

“Of course, babe,” Spencer replied, a soft smile playing on his lips as he cupped her cheek, his thumb gently stroking her skin.

Babe. Babe. Babe. Y/N's mind spun as she replayed the word, feeling a thrill run through her. Spencer called her babe. It was a simple term of endearment, but it carried a weight of affection and intimacy that made her heart skip a beat.

“You called me babe,” she said, her voice filled with surprise and delight.

Spencer chuckled softly, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. “I did,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Is that okay?”

Y/N nodded, her heart swelling with emotion. “It’s very okay,” she replied, her smile growing as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

“You’re still hard,” Y/N observed, her voice holding amusement and curiosity as she glanced down at the noticeable tension between them.

“I’m violently aware of that fact,” Spencer replied, a hint of exasperation coloring his tone as he tried to maintain some semblance of control.

Y/N smirked, clearly enjoying his predicament. “What do you want to do about that?”

Spencer took a deep breath, his mind racing with possibilities. “First, you’re wonderful,” he said, his voice laced with affection, “but I’m going to need you to get off of me.”

“Why?” Y/N asked, feigning innocence as she shifted slightly, her movements deliberate and teasing.

“Don’t tease me right now, it’s not nice,” Spencer warned, though there was a playful glint in his eyes.

“But I like teasing you,” Y/N countered, her smile widening as she reveled in the effect she had on him.

Spencer arched an eyebrow, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “You won’t always be in charge, Y/N,” he said, his voice dropping to a lower, more suggestive tone.

“Are you saying I am right now?” she challenged, her tone playful and confident.

“I’m not dignifying that with an answer,” Spencer replied, trying to sound stern but failing as his own amusement crept into his voice.

Y/N laughed softly, clearly enjoying the banter between them. But her playful teasing took a more daring turn as she leaned in closer, her breath ghosting over his skin.

“What if I did this?” Y/N whispered, grinding her hips down on Spencer’s erection, a bold move that sent a jolt of electricity through him.

Spencer’s breath hitched, his mind momentarily blank as a wave of heat washed over him. He couldn’t help but let out a low groan, the sensation both thrilling and maddening.

“Y/N,” he managed to say, his voice a mixture of warning and desire as he fought to keep his composure.

She leaned back slightly, looking down at him with a satisfied smile. “Yes, Spencer?” she asked, her voice sweetly innocent despite her bold actions.

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief at the situation. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he said, his tone both admiring and amused.

“Well, at least you’ll go out with a smile,” Y/N quipped, clearly enjoying the effect she had on him.

Spencer reached up, his hands settling on her hips as he tried to regain some measure of control. “You’re impossible,” he said, though there was no mistaking the affection in his voice.

“And you love it,” Y/N replied, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips, the warmth between them undeniable.

“Unfortunate, but true,” Spencer admitted, feeling both amused and enchanted by her boldness.

“So you want to be in charge?” Y/N asked, her voice taking on a sultry edge as she looked at him with playful eyes.

Spencer narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to figure out where she was going with this. “What are you getting at?” he asked, curiosity piquing his interest.

Y/N met his gaze steadily, her confidence shining through. “You can use me, baby,” she said, her words dripping with seduction and sincerity.

Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise. “What??” he said, his brain struggling to process the implications of her offer.

Y/N smiled softly, her fingers gently guiding his hands to her hips. “Take my hips,” she instructed, her voice low and inviting. “And use me to get off.”

The room seemed to fall silent, the weight of her words hanging in the air between them. Spencer's heart raced, excitement and awe washing over him. It was an invitation he hadn't expected but one that spoke volumes about the trust and desire between them.

Spencer hesitated for a moment, his mind racing with thoughts and emotions. He looked into her eyes, searching for any sign of uncertainty, but all he saw was warmth and encouragement.

“Are you sure?” Spencer asked, his voice tinged with concern and longing.

Y/N nodded, her expression sincere and reassuring. “I’m sure,” she said, her hands covering his as she leaned in, brushing her lips against his in a gentle, reassuring kiss.

Spencer exhaled slowly, feeling the tension in his body shift from uncertainty to anticipation. His fingers tightened around her hips, the soft fabric of her dress under his touch a reminder of the reality of the moment.

“Okay,” Spencer said, his voice steady as he accepted her invitation, allowing himself to embrace the desire that had been building between them.

With newfound confidence, Spencer shifted slightly, guiding her movements with his hands. The sensation of her warmth and softness against him was intoxicating, a heady rush of pleasure and emotion that made his heart race.

Y/N moved with him, her body responding to his touch in a way that felt natural and right. The air between them was electric, charged with the promise of what they were exploring together.

Spencer’s breath hitched, his heart pounding as he felt the electricity between them deepen with every movement and shared breath. It was a dance of trust and intimacy, one that they had unconsciously choreographed together over time. Each subtle shift of her hips and every soft gasp that escaped her lips was a reminder of the potent chemistry they shared, a chemistry that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

Y/N’s body moved against his with an urgency that mirrored his own, her touch igniting a fire that spread through him like a blaze. Spencer realized just how much he had missed this—missed her. The way she seemed to know exactly how to touch him, how to bring him to the edge of reason, was something he had never found even in himself. It was as if she had a map to every sensitive spot, every place that could make him unravel.

The air between them was thick with tension, every whisper and caress speaking volumes of the unspoken desires that had lingered between them. Spencer’s hands traveled along Y/N’s body, his fingers tracing the curves of her hips and pulling her closer, feeling the heat radiating off her skin.

Their breathing became ragged, the room filled with the sounds of their shared experience—the low hum of desire, the soft moans of pleasure, the occasional whispered word that sent shivers down each other’s spines. The intensity of the moment built like a crescendo, each wave of sensation more overwhelming than the last.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Spencer groaned, his voice hoarse with a mixture of pleasure and disbelief. He bucked his hips up instinctively, the friction almost too much to bear as he felt her move against him, her warmth enveloping him.

He tightened his grip on her hips, guiding her movements, feeling the tension coil tightly within him. His breath caught in his throat as he neared the brink, his mind a haze of sensation and longing.

Y/N responded to his every movement, her body attuned to his in a way that felt almost instinctual. She leaned forward, her breath ghosting over his ear as she whispered something that made his skin tingle, her words a promise and a challenge all at once.

“Show me how much you’ve missed me.”

In that moment, Spencer surrendered to the intensity, pulling her down to meet him as he let go, the release hitting him with an unexpected force that left him breathless. His body trembled with the aftermath, the world narrowing down to the exquisite sensation and the woman in his arms.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Spencer lay there panting, his heart racing, feeling both vulnerable and exhilarated. Y/N remained close, her fingers tracing soothing patterns on his skin as she pressed gentle kisses to his face, grounding him in the moment.

Spencer sat there for a moment, panting heavily, his eyes closed as he tried to regain his composure. Embarrassment and satisfaction coursed through him with each breath.

“You okay?” she whispered, her voice tender and soothing as she pulled back slightly to look into his eyes.

Spencer opened his eyes, meeting her gaze with a look of gratitude and affection. “Yeah,” he breathed, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’m okay.”

She chuckled softly, her eyes filled with warmth and understanding. “Good,” she replied, continuing to stroke his hair with gentle, soothing motions.

The room was quiet now, the echoes of their shared moment fading into the background as they simply enjoyed being together.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer said suddenly, a touch of sheepishness coloring his tone. “I didn’t mean to, you know...”

“Don’t be,” Y/N interrupted, her smile reassuring. “I wanted this. I wanted to be here with you.”

Her words eased the lingering tension in Spencer’s chest, and he nodded, feeling a deep sense of relief.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her in a gentle embrace.

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside their little cocoon feeling distant and irrelevant. Spencer felt a profound sense of contentment, knowing that whatever came next, they would face it together, hand in hand, heart to heart.

Y/N sighed contentedly, resting her head on his shoulder. “I really don't want to ruin this sweet moment,” she murmured, her voice filled with both affection and mischief.

“Oh God,” Spencer groaned, a teasing glint in his eyes as he prepared for whatever quip was about to come his way.

“You don't even know what I'm going to say,” Y/N protested, feigning indignation.

“It’s almost never good,” Spencer replied with a smirk, clearly enjoying the playful banter between them.

“Ignoring that,” Y/N brushed him off with a wave of her hand. “Anyway, we should change.”

“Oh… yeah, hah,” Spencer agreed, suddenly remembering the very real situation they were in.

“Like now, preferably,” she continued, trying to sound serious but unable to keep the laughter from her voice. “There’s jizz in my underwear. How much did you come?”

Spencer let out a groan of embarrassment, covering his face with his hands. “I hate you more than anyone I’ve ever known,” he muttered, though his tone was light and playful.

Y/N laughed, the sound bubbling up and filling the room with a sense of joy and comfort. She pulled back slightly, giving him a teasing look. “It’s not my fault you’re an overachiever, Doctor Reid,” she teased, playfully poking his side.

Spencer chuckled, dropping his hands and meeting her gaze with a fond smile. “I’m just thorough,” he replied, playing along with her teasing.

“Clearly,” Y/N said with a grin, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the lips before reluctantly getting up from the couch.

They both stood up, sharing a glance that was a mixture of amusement and affection.

“Let’s get changed before we traumatize your couch any further,” Y/N suggested, shaking her head with a mock-serious expression.

“Good plan,” Spencer agreed, reaching for her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

They headed toward the bedroom, the sense of closeness and companionship between them stronger than ever.

—

The next morning, it was Spencer who woke up alone this time. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. He blinked awake, momentarily disoriented before remembering the events of the night before. A smile tugged at his lips as he replayed the images of Y/N writhing in his lap, her warmth and presence still lingering in his senses.

He heard the shower running, a soft melody of water against tiles, and felt a thrill of excitement rather than the usual pang of morning urgency. Unlike at the wedding, this time he was delighted to know Y/N was showering in his apartment, sharing his space, and he didn’t even feel irrationally sex-hungry. Perhaps it was due to the satisfying first orgasm he had technically experienced with the help of another human being—the woman who had completely entranced him.

As he lay there, reliving the vivid memories of their shared moments, the sound of the shower stopped, and he imagined Y/N stepping out, droplets of water clinging to her skin, a vision of beauty and mischief.

And Y/N did have a twinkle of mischief in her eyes as she turned toward the bedroom, a plan already cooking in her head that Spencer should have smelled from a mile away. Her playful nature was something he had grown to love, even when it caught him off guard.

“Hey, Spence?” she called out, her voice echoing slightly from the bathroom.

“Yeah, babe?” Spencer replied casually, the endearment rolling off his tongue naturally. Babe—he liked the way it felt, like a secret only they shared.

“I forgot my towel,” she announced, the words heavy with intention and familiarity. A wicked sense of déjà vu washed over Spencer, recalling a similar situation back at the wedding. 

"That's okay, there's extra in—" Spencer's words were choked off into an incredulous cough as the bathroom door swung wide open.

Standing before him was an extremely nude Y/N, every inch of her skin glistening with droplets of water, her hair damp and cascading around her shoulders. She stood confidently in all her glory, a vision of boldness and allure that made Spencer's heart skip a beat.

His eyes widened, and for a moment, he was rendered speechless, his brain struggling to process the breathtaking sight before him. A flush crept up his neck as he took in the scene, his pulse quickening at the sheer audacity and beauty of the woman he had fallen for.

Y/N flashed him a cheeky grin, thoroughly enjoying the effect she had on him. “You were saying?” she teased, her voice light and playful as she sauntered toward him.

Spencer swallowed hard, finally finding his voice amidst the delightful chaos she had unleashed within him. “I, uh—” he stammered, trying and failing to keep his eyes from wandering.

“Cat got your tongue, Doctor Reid?” Y/N teased, stopping just short of the bed, her gaze playful and inviting.

Spencer cleared his throat, his mind racing as he tried to regain some semblance of composure. “It’s like you’re testing the strength of my heart,” he managed to say, his voice a strain of amusement and awe.

“I suppose I am,” Y/N replied, pretending to ponder the situation as she placed a hand on her hip, striking a pose that was both teasing and tantalizing.

Spencer’s eyes sparkled with humor and appreciation. He reached out, grabbing the corner of the sheet to offer it to her, but Y/N shook her head, stepping closer instead.

“I think I’m fine without it,” she said, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper as she leaned over him, her lips brushing against his ear. “Unless you mind, of course.”

Spencer chuckled, a blend of amusement and admiration coloring his voice. “Not at all,” he murmured, reaching out to grab Y/N by the hips, his fingers eager to pull her close again.

But before he could, Y/N stepped back quickly, a playful glint in her eye. “Doctor, I need a towel, not your hands! I just got clean.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow, both surprised and entertained by her unexpected retreat. “Y/N, you just walked out naked. You’re standing in front of me naked.”

“And I expect you, as a gracious host, to help me cover my modesty and find a towel,” she replied, her tone mockingly prim as she crossed her arms, making no move to cover herself any further.

“You’re really going to cover up?” Spencer asked, skepticism laced with humor as he watched her. The entire scene felt like a cat-and-mouse game, one he was more than willing to play.

“Duh,” Y/N said, her lips curving into a teasing smile that told him she was enjoying every second of his reaction.

Spencer shook his head, his eyes narrowing playfully. “You walked out here, completely nude, just to tease me?”

“An astute observation, Doctor,” Y/N replied, nodding in mock approval. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, delighting in the effect she had on him.

Spencer couldn't help but laugh, the sound deep and genuine. Her antics were just as endearing as they were infuriating, and he found himself utterly captivated by the playful energy she brought into his life.

“You’re something else, you know that?” Spencer said, rising from the bed and grabbing a towel from a nearby chair. He tossed it over to her, shaking his head in disbelief at her cheekiness.

Y/N caught the towel, draping it loosely around her shoulders with a victorious grin. “I aim to keep you on your toes, Spence.”

“Well, you’ve succeeded,” Spencer replied, his eyes filled with warmth and a hint of challenge. “But don’t think I’ll forget this. I’ll get you back when you least expect it.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Y/N said, her voice holding anticipation and defiance as she turned to head back toward the bathroom, the towel trailing behind her like a cape.

Spencer watched her go, a smile playing on his lips. He loved this side of her—the confident, teasing side that could drive him to the brink of madness with a single look.

As she disappeared around the corner, Spencer settled back onto the bed, his mind already racing with thoughts of how he might turn the tables next time. He knew that with Y/N, every moment was an adventure, one that promised both laughter and love in equal measure.

—

Breakfast was eaten between syrupy kisses and crossword puzzles, everything Spencer had ever wanted. The kitchen was filled with the warm aroma of pancakes and freshly brewed coffee, a cozy backdrop for their intimate morning routine.

Y/N sat across from Spencer at the small kitchen table, her hair still slightly damp from her shower, a playful smile on her lips as she scribbled answers into the crossword puzzle book they shared. Every now and then, she would lean over to plant a sweet, sticky kiss on Spencer’s cheek, leaving behind a faint trace of maple syrup that made him smile.

“This one’s tricky,” Y/N murmured, tapping the pencil against her chin as she pondered a clue. “Six-letter word for ‘mysterious’?”

Spencer glanced over, his eyes sparkling with affection. “Enigma,” he suggested, his voice soft and soothing. “Though I’m sure you already knew that.”

Y/N chuckled, scribbling the word into the grid. “You make it sound so easy, Doctor Reid.”

Spencer shrugged, a modest grin playing on his lips. “Crossword puzzles are my specialty. Along with word jumbles, logic puzzles, and, apparently, pancakes.”

“Mm, and you excel at all of them,” Y/N teased, reaching for another kiss, the gesture sweet and unhurried.

The morning light streamed through the window, casting a golden hue over the room and making the moment feel even more special. It was one of those rare, perfect mornings where everything seemed to align—a moment of peace and contentment that Spencer cherished deeply.

As they continued to work through the crossword together, their laughter echoed softly, mingling with the clink of cutlery and the rustle of crossword pages. Spencer marveled at how effortlessly they fit together, how natural it felt to share these simple pleasures with someone who understood him so completely.

With each kiss and every playful word exchanged, Spencer felt the bond between them grow stronger, solidifying the foundation of their relationship. It was in these quiet, everyday moments that he realized just how much Y/N meant to him, how much he wanted this—wanted her in his life, now and always.

“Ready for another clue?” Y/N asked, pulling him back to the present with a gentle nudge.

“Always,” Spencer replied, his eyes meeting hers with adoration and excitement. “What’ve you got?”

“Five-letter word for ‘home,’” she said, her gaze softening as she looked at him, her meaning clear.

Spencer paused, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. He knew the answer immediately, a word that perfectly encapsulated everything they were building together. “Vegas,” he answered, the word carrying a weight of love and nostalgia.

Y/N nodded, a smile spreading across her face as she wrote it down, her heart full. “I like that answer. But you’re wrong.”

They exchanged another kiss, this one lingering and full of promise, the crossword forgotten for the moment as they lost themselves in each other.

—

Spencer Reid was a lot of things: a genius, an awkward yet endearing conversationalist, a talented magician, a loyal friend, and a speed reader. But one thing he was not was sexually experienced. Despite this, he wasn't going to let that minor detail stop him from getting payback on Y/N during her stay. The morning she teased him had been a wake-up call of sorts, and he found himself eagerly anticipating a way to surprise her in return.

They hadn’t gone past kissing and last night when Spencer had come in his pants. He was perfectly fine waiting; they didn’t ever have to go further. He just loved being with her. He loved her. But that was beside the point right now. The point was payback.

When Y/N mentioned wanting to visit a thrift shop she had read about online, Spencer seized the opportunity to do some research of his own. He found himself diving into a realm he had yet to explore: the art of sensual teasing.

Specifically, Spencer found himself gravitating towards articles and forums on how to tame your brat—a playful concept he found oddly fitting given Y/N's penchant for teasing him. He learned about the subtle balance of power and playfulness and how to channel his own awkward charm into something more confident and commanding.

With the new information burned into his eidetic memory, Spencer was rather excited for Y/N's return. The anticipation thrummed through him, nervousness and excitement in his veins as he rehearsed his plan in his mind. He wanted to surprise her, to take back some of the playful control she had over him, and show her a side of himself that was both new and thrilling.

When Y/N walked through the door, she noticed Spencer wasn't in immediate view. "Spence?" she called out, her voice laced with curiosity.

"In here," he yelled back, a little breathlessly.

Y/N followed the sound of his voice into the bedroom, and what she saw made her stop in her tracks. Spencer was lying on the bed, shirtless and clad only in his briefs, his hand teasingly palming his cock, clearly getting himself worked up.

"Wh—what are you doing?" she stammered, her eyes widening at the unexpected sight before her.

"Sit down," Spencer instructed, nodding toward the chair in the corner of the room.

Y/N felt a rush of excitement mixed with nervousness as she followed his instructions, taking a seat with wide eyes, unable to look away from the scene unfolding before her.

"...Spence?" she ventured cautiously, unsure of what to expect.

"You have done nothing but tease and taunt me," Spencer began, his voice low and steady, laced with an edge of playful bravery. "I told you I'd get you back."

Her mind raced, anticipation and trepidation swirling within her. “I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to upset you,” she offered, trying to gauge his intentions.

“Oh, I’m not upset,” Spencer chuckled darkly, his eyes filled with a promise of what was to come. “You might be after this.”

Y/N felt a delicious tingle run down her spine at his words, realizing that the tables had turned in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

Spencer pushed his briefs down, feeling the cool air against his skin as he continued to touch himself. His movements were slow and deliberate, his hand gliding over his length, each stroke building tension within him. He maintained eye contact with Y/N, his eyes dark with desire and intent.

“Watch me,” he commanded softly, his voice a blend of seduction and challenge. The words were an invitation and a demand, meant to draw her in and show her the effect she had on him. He wanted her to witness every moment, every sensation, the pleasure he derived from taking control.

Y/N swallowed hard, her mouth dry with anticipation. She sat on the chair, completely captivated by the sight before her. Spencer, usually so reserved and thoughtful, was now fully in command, his confidence tangible and alluring. She couldn’t tear her eyes away, drawn to the way he moved, the way he seemed to revel in the moment.

As Spencer’s hand moved with increasing intensity, his breathing grew heavier. Each stroke was a testament to the electric tension between them, the room filled with the soft sounds of his pleasure. He was keenly aware of the effect he was having on her, the way her eyes followed his every move, and it fueled him, driving him closer to the edge.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Spencer asked, a teasing glint in his eye as he observed her reaction. His voice was low and husky, laced with both challenge and triumph.

Y/N nodded, unable to find her voice as she watched him. Her heart raced, a blend of arousal and admiration coursing through her. She was seeing a side of Spencer that was both familiar and entirely new—a side that was thrilling in its unexpected intensity.

Spencer’s pace quickened, his hand moving faster, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. He let out a soft moan, the sound sending a shiver of excitement through Y/N. She shifted slightly in her seat, feeling the heat of her own desire, knowing that this moment was for her as much as it was for him.

With a final, shuddering gasp, Spencer reached his climax. His body trembled as he gave in to the release, the waves of pleasure washing over him with unexpected force. His release reached up his chest, getting mixed in the trail of hair leading down from his navel.

He lay there for a moment, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath, the room filled with a charged silence that seemed to echo the intensity of the experience they had just shared.

Y/N watched him with wide eyes, her heart pounding, feeling the heat of the moment settle between them. She couldn’t help but be impressed by his unexpected confidence and the way he had managed to turn the tables so effectively.

Spencer finally sat up, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he met her gaze. “How was that for payback?” he asked, a playful lilt to his voice, his eyes twinkling with mischief and affection.

Y/N let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding, a smile breaking across her face. “I’d say you win,” she replied, her voice tinged with amusement and admiration.

Spencer chuckled, feeling a swell of pride at her words. He had surprised himself with his ability to take control and turn the tables, and her reaction was everything he had hoped for.

"I'm glad you think so," Spencer said, his tone playful yet filled with genuine affection. He leaned back against the headboard, his eyes still fixed on Y/N, who remained seated in the chair, a slight flush coloring her cheeks.

“You really got me,” she admitted, shaking her head in disbelief at the unexpected turn of events. “I didn’t think you had it in you, Doctor Reid.”

Spencer grinned, relishing the moment. “I told you I’d get you back for this morning,” he said, referencing her earlier teasing with a knowing glance. “Consider us even.”

Y/N stood up from the chair and made her way over to the bed, sitting beside him. She reached out and traced a finger along his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her touch. “I have to admit, it’s kind of hot seeing you like this,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper.

Spencer’s heart raced at her words. He reached up and gently cupped her face, drawing her closer until their foreheads touched. “I’m glad,” he murmured, his voice soft and sincere.

They stayed like that for a moment, savoring the intimacy and the sense of closeness that had blossomed between them. It was a nod to their journey, a reminder of how far they had come and the exciting possibilities that lay ahead.

Finally, Y/N broke the silence, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, what’s next on your agenda, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer laughed, feeling a surge of happiness at her playful question. “Well, I think we’ve earned a little break,” he suggested, his tone light-hearted. “Maybe some dessert?”

“How about a shower?” Y/N countered, raising an eyebrow with a teasing smile.

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” Spencer agreed, glancing down at himself. “I’m sorry I made such a mess.”

“Are you kidding?” Y/N replied, leaning in to punctuate her words with kisses. “Dr. Reid, it was—” kiss “so—” kiss “fucking—” kiss “sexy.”

Spencer laughed, his heart swelling with affection and desire. He pulled her closer, kissing her swiftly, his lips capturing hers with a sense of urgency. “Okay, okay. I’ll go shower,” he said, trying to play it cool but failing to hide his growing excitement.

“Not without me,” Y/N whispered, her voice a sultry promise that sent a shiver down Spencer’s spine.

Her words lingered in the air, charged with anticipation. Spencer hesitated for a moment, the idea of showering together both thrilling and nerve-wracking. But the look in Y/N's eyes—filled with warmth and an unmistakable invitation—washed away any doubts he had.

“Alright,” Spencer said, a hint of mischief in his voice as he stood up, pulling her with him. “Lead the way.”

Y/N giggled, taking his hand and guiding him toward the bathroom. The space was small but intimate, creating a soft haze that enveloped them both.

As Y/N began to strip off her clothes, Spencer moved to help her, his fingers gently brushing against her skin as her clothes fell from her body. Throughout the entire process, he maintained eye contact with her, his gaze steady and filled with an electrifying combination of tenderness and desire.

The intensity of their bond was unmistakable, as if the world around them had faded away, leaving only the two of them in their own private bubble. Spencer marveled at the trust Y/N placed in him, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and admiration for the woman standing before him.

Once she was undressed, Spencer took her hand, leading her to the shower. As they stepped inside, Y/N turned on the water, adjusting the temperature until it was just right. The warm spray cascaded down, creating a comforting cocoon around them.

Spencer watched her, his heart pounding with excitement and anticipation. He had never done anything like this before—this level of intimacy was new territory—but the thought of being so close to her, of sharing this experience, was exhilarating.

It was a moment of discovery, a chance to explore the depths of their relationship in a way that went beyond words. The water enveloped them, washing away any lingering doubts or fears, leaving only the promise of what they could build together.

The water cascaded down in a soothing rhythm, and Y/N turned to him, her eyes sparkling with a playful challenge. “Can I wash you, Doctor?”

Spencer nodded, feeling a rush of adrenaline as he stepped under the warm spray with her. The water was a comforting embrace that seemed to wash away any lingering tension or apprehension.

Y/N reached for the soap, lathering it between her hands before gently running them over Spencer’s chest, her touch tender and intimate. Spencer shivered, the sensation of her hands on his skin sending waves of pleasure through him.

He mirrored her actions, his fingers gliding over her shoulders and down her back, marveling at the softness of her skin and the closeness they shared. It was a new kind of intimacy, one that felt both thrilling and natural, as if they were meant to be this way.

The steam swirled around them, creating a cocoon of warmth and privacy, the outside world fading into the background. In this moment, it was just them—two people exploring a newfound closeness.

Y/N tilted her head back, letting the water cascade over her face, her laughter echoing softly in the confined space. Spencer watched her, entranced by the way she seemed to glow with happiness, her joy infectious and intoxicating.

“You okay?” Y/N asked, glancing at him with a teasing smile, her eyes glimmering with affection.

Spencer shook his head, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings. “No, I need to do something,” he said, his voice producing urgency and sincerity.

“Oh, what is it, baby?” she asked, her curiosity piqued as she tried to read his intentions.

“Tell me to stop if you need to,” Spencer replied, his tone firm yet reassuring.

Y/N nodded, anticipation building as she trusted him completely, not knowing exactly what to expect but excited by the promise of his words.

Spencer gently turned her so she was facing the wall, guiding her movements with a steady hand until she was in the position he envisioned. Her heart raced as she felt his hands on her skin, the water cascading over them adding a layer of sensuality to the moment.

“Spence?” Y/N’s voice was soft, a mixture of curiosity and desire as she braced herself with her hands against the cool tile.

“Is this okay?” he asked, a hint of vulnerability in his voice as he knelt down behind her, his breath warm against her skin.

“Mhm,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper, the sensation of his presence behind her sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine.

With Y/N's consent, Spencer took a deep breath, grounding himself in the moment. He placed his hands gently on her hips, his touch reverent and full of care. The water continued to pour over them, the rhythmic sound creating a backdrop for the moment they were about to share.

Spencer let his hands glide over her skin, taking his time to explore and savor the feeling. He marveled at the way she trusted him, how she let herself be vulnerable in a way that mirrored his own vulnerability. It was a dance of intimacy and exploration, one that was both thrilling and deeply meaningful.

Y/N let out a soft sigh, her body responding to his touch with an eagerness that surprised even her. She felt the heat of the water mix with the warmth of his hands, the combination creating a heady sensation that left her breathless.

Spencer leaned forward, placing a tender kiss on the small of her back, his lips tracing a path of gentle affection. He wanted her to feel cherished, to know that every action was infused with love and desire. His hands continued to wander, exploring the curves of her body, his touch becoming more assured with each passing moment.

The tension between them built, a substantial energy that crackled in the air. Spencer let his fingers dance along her thighs, the touch light and teasing, coaxing soft gasps from her lips. His fingers found her clit, brushing against it with a feather-light touch that made her shiver with anticipation.

"Is this good?" Spencer asked, his voice a husky whisper, full of hope and longing.

Y/N nodded, her eyes closed as she let herself be carried away by the sensations he was creating. "It’s perfect," she breathed.

Encouraged by her response, Spencer continued his tender ministrations, his fingers rubbing over her clit with increasing confidence. He relished the way her body reacted to his touch, each soft moan and gasp fueling his desire to please her. Every tremor, every whisper of his name, was a reminder that she was here, Spencer was the one causing her pleasure.

Spencer couldn’t wait any longer; he needed to have his mouth on her. His desire had reached a fever pitch, and the thought of tasting her, of bringing her even closer to the edge, was irresistible.

With a firm but gentle hand on Y/N’s lower back, he urged her to arch further, creating a perfect angle for him to reach her core with his mouth. Her skin was warm under his touch, the water heightening the sensations that danced between them.

Spencer leaned forward, his breath ghosting over her skin before he pressed his lips to her clit. He started with a soft kiss, savoring the anticipation before letting his tongue trace a slow, deliberate path up her lips. The taste of her was intoxicating, a blend of sweetness and desire that left him wanting more.

Y/N’s response was immediate and electric, her body reacting to the touch with an intensity that matched his own longing. Her fingers curled against the tile wall, seeking purchase as she let out a breathy moan, a sound that resonated deep within Spencer.

He continued to explore with his tongue, alternating between gentle licks and firmer, more purposeful strokes that elicited a symphony of pleasure from her. Her hips instinctively pushed back towards him, her body urging him to continue, to take her higher.

Spencer was more than happy to oblige, his focus unwavering as he lavished attention on her clit, every movement calculated to bring her closer to that exquisite edge. The steam swirled around them, creating an intimate cocoon where nothing existed but the two of them and the ties they were deepening with every touch, every kiss.

Y/N’s breathing grew ragged, her soft cries filling the bathroom as Spencer’s ministrations drove her closer to climax. She felt the world narrowing to this singular moment, the sensation of his mouth on her, consuming her completely. 

Spencer, attuned to every shift in her body, could feel her approaching release. He intensified his efforts, his mouth working to push her over the edge.

With a final, fervent stroke of his tongue, Y/N shattered, the wave of her orgasm crashing over her with a force that left her breathless and trembling. Spencer held her steady as she came on his tongue, his hands firm on her hips as he helped her ride out the storm.

As the echoes of her climax faded, they remained entwined under the shower’s warm spray, the link between them even stronger than before. Spencer pressed a gentle kiss to her hip, a silent promise of his devotion and the joy they found in each other.

Finally, he helped her stand upright, wrapping his arms around her in a comforting embrace. They stayed like that for a while, basking in the afterglow in the steamy sanctuary of the shower. The warmth of the water mingled with the warmth of their bodies, creating a cocoon of intimacy that felt both timeless and precious.

Y/N turned in his arms, looking up at him with a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “You have something on your face, Doctor,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with humor and affection.

Spencer raised an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Do I?” he replied, feigning ignorance as he wiped his face with the back of his hand.

“Yes, you do,” Y/N insisted, reaching up to gently swipe at a lingering droplet of water on his cheek. Her touch was light, yet it sent a thrill through Spencer, a reminder of the electric chemistry between them.

He captured her hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to her fingertips. “Well, thank you for pointing that out,” he said, his voice a low murmur as he looked into her eyes, filled with a warmth that spoke volumes of the bond they shared.

Y/N chuckled softly, leaning into him as she savored the comfort and closeness of their embrace. “You’re welcome,” she said, her voice carrying a note of affection that made his heart swell.

“I love you,” Spencer whispered, the words slipping out naturally, carrying the weight of everything he felt for her. He had never been more certain of anything in his life, and saying it aloud felt both exhilarating and profoundly right.

“I know,” Y/N replied, her smile warm and knowing. She could feel the truth of his words in the way he held her, in the gentle strength of his embrace. Her acknowledgment without fear was enough for Spencer right now—a silent promise of the love they were building together, day by day.

Spencer held her close, relishing the feeling of having her in his arms. They stood together in the shower, the world outside forgotten, their laughter and the sound of the water the only things that mattered in that moment. It was a perfect bubble of intimacy, a sanctuary where they could be completely themselves.

Eventually, they turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping themselves in towels as they continued to exchange soft words and lingering glances, the connection between them as strong as ever. They moved in a seamless dance of familiarity and affection.

Y/N handed Spencer a towel, her eyes meeting his with a playfulness that belied the deep emotions they had just shared. The air between them was filled with a sense of contentment, as if they had discovered a new layer of their relationship that was both thrilling and comforting.

Spencer took the towel with a grateful smile, gently drying himself off as he watched Y/N do the same. Her movements were graceful and unhurried, and he found himself captivated by the simple beauty of the moment.

—

That night, they lay side by side in bed, Spencer reading aloud to Y/N as requested. His voice, a soothing blend of warmth and familiarity, wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm light over the room, highlighting the serene expressions on their faces.

Spencer was lost in the rhythm of the words, his voice weaving a gentle narrative that lulled Y/N into a state of relaxation. The comfort of the moment, the intimacy of sharing a book, felt perfect.

“Baby?” Y/N interrupted softly, her voice a quiet murmur in the peaceful silence.

“Hmm?” Spencer replied, not breaking his reading stride but glancing over at her with a soft smile.

“Can I meet your friends?” she asked, her tone light yet carrying an undercurrent of genuine curiosity.

Spencer paused in his reading, a playful glint in his eyes. “That’s a tough one,” he said, closing the book and setting it aside, focusing all his attention on her.

“Huh? Why?” Y/N asked, her brow furrowing slightly as she turned to face him.

“Well, how would I introduce you? ‘Hi, this is Y/N. I saw her boobs, but we’re just buddies,’” Spencer teased, his lips curling into a smirk.

Y/N smiled knowingly, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Get to the point, Ock,” she urged, giving him a gentle nudge with her elbow.

Spencer took a deep breath, feeling the truth of his feelings welling up inside him. The words that had been on the tip of his tongue for so long finally found their way out. “Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked, his voice sincere and full of hope.

Y/N pretended to ponder his question, her smile widening. “Depends,” she said, drawing out the word playfully, her eyes sparkling with affection.

He wasn’t even nervous this time. “Oh yeah? On what?” he inquired, a playful challenge in his tone as he propped himself up on one elbow to look at her more closely.

“Will you scratch my back before bed?” Y/N replied, her expression shifting to one of playful earnestness as she held his gaze.

Spencer laughed, a sound filled with warmth and happiness. “I think that can be arranged,” he said, reaching over to gently run his fingers down her back, the touch light and affectionate.

Y/N leaned into his touch, feeling the comfort that defined their relationship. “Then yes, I’d love to be your girlfriend,” she said, her voice full of sincerity and excitement.

Spencer’s heart swelled at her words, at the simple exchange. They lay there for a while, enjoying the quiet comfort of the moment, the room filled with a sense of contentment and love that made everything else fade away.

As they settled in for the night, Spencer’s hand continued its soothing path along her back, a gentle promise of the future. Y/N closed her eyes, feeling a profound sense of peace as she drifted off to sleep, knowing that she was exactly where she was meant to be—with him.

—

Spencer knew how much Y/N loved wine, and he wanted to recreate a little bit of their Napa Valley trip to make their introduction to his team memorable. After some thought, he decided to ask Rossi, his friend and colleague, if he would host a wine tasting at his elegant estate.

Rossi, always the gracious host and a fellow wine enthusiast, immediately agreed, delighted at the prospect of meeting Y/N. He had been eager to meet the woman who had captured Spencer’s heart, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity.

The evening was set. Rossi promised to prepare a selection of his finest wines and a spread of delicious hors d'oeuvres to complement the tasting. The stage was perfectly set for Y/N to meet Spencer’s friends in a relaxed and welcoming atmosphere.

As they arrived at Rossi’s grand estate, Spencer and Y/N held hands, a subtle but unmistakable sign of their relationship. The sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the vineyard, and the air was filled with the promise of a perfect evening.

Rossi greeted them at the door with his usual charm, extending a warm welcome. “Spencer! Y/N! So glad you could make it,” he said, giving Spencer a shoulder pat before turning to Y/N. “And you must be the famous Y/N. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Y/N smiled, feeling instantly at ease with Rossi’s friendly demeanor. “All good things, I hope,” she replied with a laugh, squeezing Spencer’s hand for reassurance.

“Of course, all good things,” Rossi assured her, gesturing for them to come inside. “Make yourselves at home. We’ve got a lovely selection for you tonight.”

As they entered the elegantly decorated living room, Y/N marveled at the surroundings. The room was warm and inviting, with soft lighting and a roaring fireplace, creating a cozy ambiance. Several bottles of wine were artfully arranged on a table, each accompanied by a description card and a plate of carefully paired appetizers.

The rest of the team was already there, mingling and chatting, their laughter filling the room. Spencer introduced Y/N to each of them, his pride evident in the way he spoke about her.

“Y/N, you remember Derek Morgan,” Spencer said, introducing her to the man who had become one of his closest friends.

Derek grinned, offering a firm handshake. “Nice to officially meet you, Y/N. Spencer talks about you all the time.”

Y/N returned the handshake, her nerves dissipating with each friendly face she encountered. “Nice to see you again, Derek,” she replied warmly. “Spencer probably talks about you more.”

“And this is Penelope Garcia,” Spencer continued, leading Y/N to the vibrant and colorful tech analyst.

Penelope enveloped Y/N in a warm hug, her enthusiasm infectious. “I’m so happy to meet you! Anyone who makes Spencer this happy is a friend of mine,” she declared with a wink.

Y/N laughed, charmed by Penelope’s vivacious personality. “It’s great to meet you too, Penelope. I love your energy!”

Spencer then introduced her to Emily Prentiss, JJ, and Aaron Hotchner, each of them welcoming her with genuine smiles and friendly conversation. It was clear that Spencer’s colleagues were more than just coworkers—they were like family, and they were eager to include Y/N in their circle.

Once everyone had settled, Rossi took the lead, introducing each wine with the flair of a seasoned connoisseur. He explained the origins of each bottle, the notes and flavors they could expect, and the perfect pairings he had selected.

The group moved through the tasting, savoring each wine and the lively conversation that accompanied it. Y/N found herself laughing and sharing stories, feeling completely at ease in their company.

As they reached the end of the tasting, Spencer caught Y/N’s eye, giving her a soft smile that conveyed his happiness and pride. She smiled back, feeling grateful for the warmth and acceptance she had received from his friends.

Rossi raised his glass, capturing everyone’s attention. “To new friends and old friends,” he began, his voice resonating with sincerity. “And to Y/N, for making our Spencer so incredibly happy. Welcome to the family.”

Everyone echoed the toast, glasses clinking as they celebrated the new addition to their group. Y/N felt a swell of emotion at the genuine welcome, her heart full with the realization that she was not just meeting Spencer’s team, but becoming a part of something bigger—a community that supported each other, much like a family.

As the evening continued, Y/N and Spencer found themselves stealing moments together amidst the laughter and conversation. It was a perfect night.

—

“Can we go for a walk?” Y/N asked, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she looked at Spencer. The wine had left her feeling a little bold and adventurous, and the thought of a late-night stroll seemed like the perfect way to end the evening.

“It’s nearly 12 a.m., Y/N,” Spencer replied, raising an eyebrow at her suggestion. He tried to sound firm, but he knew that tone of hers all too well—the one that said she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“You’re in the FBI. You can keep us safe,” she insisted, playfully bumping her shoulder against his.

Spencer couldn’t help but chuckle at her persistence. “Yeah, okay,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I once had a man tell me I look like a pipe cleaner with eyes.”

Y/N burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the quiet of the night. “That is so accurate!” she managed to say between giggles, leaning against him for support.

“We’re not going for a walk,” Spencer declared, crossing his arms in mock defiance.

Y/N’s laughter subsided, replaced by a stubborn look that he knew all too well. “Then I’m going alone,” she said, raising her chin in challenge.

“Like hell you are, you nuisance,” Spencer shot back, unable to hide the fondness in his voice. He shook his head, knowing he was already defeated. “Alright, alright. Let’s go for a walk.”

Y/N grinned triumphantly, taking his hand and pulling him toward the door. “You won’t regret it,” she promised, her excitement palpable.

As they stepped out into the cool night air, Spencer couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. Despite his earlier protests, he found himself looking forward to the adventure, the chance to share another moment with her in the quiet, starlit night.

They walked hand in hand, the world around them hushed and serene. The stars twinkled above, a canopy of lights that mirrored the joy and companionship they felt in each other's presence.

Spencer glanced over at Y/N, her face illuminated by the moonlight, and felt a surge of affection for the woman beside him. She had a way of making even the simplest moments feel extraordinary, and he realized he wouldn’t trade this walk—or her company—for anything.

“So, where are we headed?” Spencer asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them.

Y/N shrugged, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Anywhere. Everywhere. Nowhere in particular,” she replied, swinging their linked hands playfully. “Let’s just see where the night takes us.”

Spencer chuckled, nodding in agreement as they continued their impromptu adventure. “Lead the way, troublemaker.”

They walked for a bit in silence, just enjoying each other's company. The night was cool, the gentle breeze carrying the distant hum of the city, a perfect backdrop for their midnight stroll. The moon cast a silvery glow on the path ahead, and their footsteps echoed softly in the stillness.

“You’re pretty bossy,” he teased, breaking the silence with a playful nudge. “Is this what it’s always going to be like when we’re married?”

The words slipped out before he could catch them, hanging in the air between them with a weight he hadn’t anticipated.

Y/N laughed, not even realizing the massive step she’d just taken with her response. “Yeah, probably,” she said, the words rolling off her tongue as if they were the most natural thing in the world.

Spencer felt his heart skip a beat, the casual ease of her reply settling warmly in his chest. Her laughter was infectious, and he couldn’t help but join in, the sound of their shared amusement echoing softly in the night.

“Good to know,” Spencer replied, trying to keep his tone light, even as the implications of their exchange sank in.

Y/N turned to look at him, her eyes shining with humor and something deeper—something that spoke of the future they were daring to imagine together. The thought of it sent a thrill through him, feelings of excitement and wonder at the possibilities that lay ahead.

They continued their walk, the conversation flowing easily as they navigated the quiet streets. Spencer found himself stealing glances at Y/N, marveling at the way she seemed to light up the world around her, her presence a constant source of comfort and happiness.

After a while, they found themselves on a small bridge overlooking a gently flowing river. The water shimmered under the moonlight, reflecting the stars above, and the scene was so picturesque it felt almost surreal.

Y/N leaned against the railing, her gaze drifting over the water as she took in the beauty of the moment. Spencer joined her, standing behind her with his arms caging her in comfortably.

“Do you ever think about the future?” Y/N asked suddenly, her voice soft and thoughtful.

“All the time,” Spencer admitted, glancing down at her with a smile. “Especially now.”

She looked at him, curiosity and affection mingling in her expression. “And what do you see?”

He considered the question, searching for the right words to convey the depth of his feelings. “I see... a lot of things,” he said finally, his voice sincere. “But mostly, I see us. Together.”

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with happiness at his words. “Me too,” she said, reaching for his hand and intertwining their fingers. “I can’t imagine it any other way.”

They stood there for a while, wrapped in the serenity of the night and the warmth of each other’s presence. It was a moment that felt timeless, a promise of the love and adventure they would share in the days to come.

—

Y/N had been with Spencer for a week and a half now, and their time together was almost done. The thought of her leaving weighed heavily on both of them, a heavy presence that seemed to linger in the air.

Their days had been filled with laughter, exploration, and the simple joy of being together. From shared breakfasts to late-night conversations, every moment was bittersweet evidence of their relationship—a bond that felt as if it had always been there, waiting to be discovered.

But now, as their time drew to a close, a quiet sadness crept in, mingling with the happiness they had shared. They both felt it, an unspoken acknowledgment of the distance that would soon separate them once more.

—

On their last morning together, they sat at the kitchen table, nursing cups of coffee and savoring the tranquility of the moment. The morning light filtered through the window, casting a warm glow over the room, but even the sunshine couldn’t chase away the bittersweet feeling that lingered between them.

Y/N looked across the table at Spencer, her heart aching at the thought of saying goodbye. She had grown accustomed to his presence, to the comfort of having him by her side, and the idea of returning to her life in Las Vegas felt strangely daunting.

“Do we have to talk about it?” Spencer asked, his voice soft yet carrying the weight of their impending separation. He looked at her with longing and resignation, as if hoping that by not acknowledging it, they could somehow postpone the inevitable.

Y/N shook her head, offering him a small, understanding smile. “Not yet,” she replied, reaching across the table to take his hand. “Let’s just enjoy today.”

He squeezed her hand, grateful for the reprieve, even if only temporary. “Deal,” he said, his tone light despite the heaviness in his heart.

—

They spent the day exploring the city, visiting the places they loved most. Spencer took her to the Smithsonian, sharing stories about his favorite exhibits with the enthusiasm and wonder that never failed to captivate her. They wandered through the National Gallery of Art, losing themselves in the beauty of the paintings, and then strolled hand in hand along the Potomac River, the gentle breeze carrying with it the memories they were creating.

As the afternoon sun began to dip below the horizon, they found themselves at a small, charming café, the kind that promised warmth and comfort with every sip. They sat outside, sipping coffee and talking about everything and nothing, allowing the moment to wrap around them like a soft embrace.

Y/N watched Spencer as he spoke, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about something he loved, the way his smile seemed to hold the entire world in its warmth. She felt a pang of sadness, knowing that she would miss these moments most of all—the quiet intimacy, the shared laughter, the sense of belonging that came from simply being with him.

—

That evening, they decided to cook dinner together, wanting to savor every last moment. The kitchen was filled with the comforting sounds of sizzling pans and clinking glasses, their movements synchronized in a dance of familiarity and affection.

As they prepared their meal, they stole kisses and shared soft laughter, the knowledge of their approaching separation hanging over them like a shadow. Yet, they refused to let it dampen their spirits, determined to make the most of the time they had left.

Once dinner was ready, they sat down at the table, candlelight flickering gently between them. The conversation flowed easily, a tapestry of shared memories and hopes for the future, each word a tribute to the connection they had built.

—

After dinner, they moved to the living room, settling on the couch with a sense of quiet contentment. Y/N nestled against Spencer, her head resting on his shoulder as they talked about the past few days and what lay ahead.

“I can’t believe it’s almost time for you to go,” Spencer said, his voice tinged with regret. He traced gentle patterns on her arm, finding solace in the simple act of holding her close.

“I know,” Y/N replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I wish I could stay longer.”

Spencer nodded, understanding the pull of responsibility that awaited her in Las Vegas. “Me too,” he admitted, the words carrying a weight of their own. “But I’m grateful for the time we’ve had.”

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with love and longing. “We’ll make it work,” she said, preservation in her voice. “We’ve done it before, and we’ll do it again.”

Spencer smiled, heartened by her resolve. “You’re right,” he agreed, his voice steady with conviction. “We will.”

—

The gentle chime of Y/N's alarm broke the silence of the morning, its sound a stark reminder of the day neither of them wanted to face. Y/N needed to be up early to catch her flight back home, but Spencer refused to let go of her, his arms wrapped tightly around her middle.

Y/N felt the weight of the moment settle heavily in her chest. They were both distraught, the impending separation looming over them like a dark cloud. As she lay there, feeling the warmth of Spencer's embrace, tears began to well in her eyes, spilling over as she realized how deeply her leaving was affecting him.

Spencer, ever attuned to her emotions, noticed the subtle shaking of her body and moved to hover over her, wanting to see her face and offer comfort. His brow furrowed with concern as he brushed away her tears with gentle fingers, his heart aching at the sight of her distress.

Before Spencer could say or ask anything, Y/N found her voice, though it was tinged with the raw emotion she felt. "I love you too," she said, the words escaping in a whisper that carried all the weight of her heart.

In that moment, Spencer's world shifted. The confession was unexpected yet deeply desired, a truth that resonated within him, echoing the love he had been holding for her. Without hesitation, he leaned down and kissed her more passionately than ever before, pouring all his emotions into the tender meeting of their lips.

The kiss was an affirmation, a shared promise of everything they felt for one another. It was filled with longing and relief, the culmination of all the moments they had shared and the dreams they held for the future. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of them in their bubble of love.

Y/N wrapped her arms around Spencer, pulling him closer, losing herself in the warmth and security of his embrace. It was as if time stood still, and all that mattered was the beating of their hearts, synced in perfect harmony. The room was filled with a charged silence, the air thick with the unspoken promises that hung between them.

Spencer could feel the rapid thud of his own heart, each beat echoing the depth of his emotions. He wanted nothing more than to hold her close, to savor every second they had left before she had to leave. Their breaths mingled, a shared rhythm that they had built over time.

All of their emotions were on display in that moment, vulnerability and desire intertwining in a dance that felt as old as time itself. Y/N’s fingers traced a gentle path along his back, a silent plea for more, for closeness, for the intimacy they both craved.

She reached down, her hand finding Spencer’s hardening length, the touch both bold and tender. It was a signal, a declaration of what she wanted, what she needed from him in that moment. Spencer’s breath hitched at her touch, his body responding eagerly to the invitation.

With a soft sigh, he nodded in understanding, his eyes dark with passion as he moved to accommodate her silent request. His fingers brushed against her skin, gently pushing down her shorts and underwear, leaving her bare beneath him.

The cool air kissed her exposed skin, but it was Spencer’s touch that ignited the fire within her. Every caress was deliberate, infused with the love and desire that had been simmering between them. His hands roamed her body, exploring every curve with a reverence that left her breathless.

Their lips met in a searing kiss, a collision of longing and devotion that spoke of all the words they couldn’t say. It was a kiss that consumed them, leaving no room for doubt or hesitation. Spencer’s hands tangled in her hair, holding her close as if she might slip away at any moment.

Y/N arched into him when he pushed inside of her, her body an unconscious show of the need that had built up over their time together. She wanted to memorize this moment, to etch it into her memory for the days they would spend apart. The feel of his skin against hers, the warmth of his breath on her lips, the way he looked at her as if she were the only thing that mattered in the world.

Spencer’s touch was gentle yet insistent, a perfect balance of tenderness and need. He marveled at the way her body responded to his, every sigh and gasp a symphony that played just for him. He wanted to show her, through touch and whispered words, just how much she meant to him.

As they moved together, the world outside faded into oblivion, leaving only the two of them, entwined in a moment of pure intimacy. Spencer’s hands traced a path of fire across her skin, every touch a promise, every kiss a vow of the love he felt so deeply.

Their connection was electric, a powerful force that drew them ever closer, bridging the distance that would soon separate them. Spencer could feel the emotion welling up inside him, a tidal wave of feeling that threatened to overwhelm him, yet he welcomed it, embraced it.

Y/N’s hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. She felt the heat of his skin, the strength of his embrace, and knew that this was where she belonged—in his arms, lost in the world they had created together.

With every movement, every shared breath, they told a story—a story of love and longing, of dreams and promises yet to be fulfilled. It was a story that had begun long before this moment, and one that would continue long after they parted ways.

The crescendo of their shared experience built to a peak, an overwhelming wave of sensation that swept them both away. They surrendered to it, allowing themselves to be carried by the tide of their emotions, losing themselves in the depth of their love.

As the world slowly came back into focus, they lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms, the link between them stronger than ever. Spencer pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his heart full of the love that had bloomed between them.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words a promise of the future they would build together, no matter the distance that lay ahead.

“I love you too,” Y/N replied, her voice soft yet filled with unwavering certainty.

They stayed like that for a while, basking in the afterglow of their shared intimacy, knowing that this was just the beginning of the journey they would embark on together.

—

The goodbyes at the airport were tearful and depressing beyond belief. Spencer and Y/N stood at the gate, holding each other tightly, as if letting go would shatter the fragile world they had built together. Y/N's eyes glistened with unshed tears, her heart heavy with the weight of leaving.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

Spencer nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “Me too. Call me as soon as you can.”

They pulled back just enough to look at each other, memorizing every detail of their faces before the inevitable separation. Spencer brushed a tear from Y/N’s cheek, his touch tender and full of longing.

“Take care of yourself,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll be counting down the days until I see you again.”

Y/N nodded, unable to find words as she fought to keep her composure. With one last lingering kiss, they parted, their fingers reluctantly slipping away from each other as she turned to board her flight.

Spencer watched her go, his heart aching with every step she took away from him. As she disappeared from view, he took a deep breath, holding onto the promise of their future together.

—

Spencer returned home, his heart heavy with the absence of Y/N. As he closed the door behind him, the silence of his apartment enveloped him, a stark contrast to the warmth and laughter that had filled the space just days before.

He dropped his bag by the door, leaning against it for support as the weight of the day settled on his shoulders. For a moment, he stood still, the reality of Y/N’s departure crashing over him like a wave.

He knew they hadn’t broken up—that their relationship was strong, built on a foundation of love and understanding. Yet, the emptiness left by her absence felt overwhelming, as if a part of him was missing.

Spencer made his way to the living room, each step heavy with the ache of longing. He sank into the couch, burying his face in his hands as emotions he had been holding at bay finally broke free. Tears spilled over, silent and unbidden, tracing a path down his cheeks as he allowed himself to feel the depth of his sorrow.

In that moment, he realized just how lucky he was to have someone who made saying goodbye so hard. Y/N had become such an integral part of his daily routine, bringing a light and joy that he hadn’t known he needed until it was gone.

He wiped his tears, taking a deep breath as he tried to steady himself. The pain of parting was proof to the depth of their love, a love that would endure the distance and time apart.

Spencer knew he would see her again, that their paths would cross once more, bound by the ties of affection and the dreams they had yet to fulfill. Until then, he would hold onto the memories they had created, cherishing them as a reminder of everything they shared.

As Spencer got up to take his contacts out, his eyes stinging from the tears that had blurred his vision, he heard a knock at his door. The sound was unexpected, cutting through the quiet of his apartment and jolting him out of his emotional haze.

Confused and uncomfortable with his state, he hesitated. He considered ignoring it in favor of dealing with the immediate discomfort in his eyes. But the knocking persisted, each tap on the door a gentle insistence that demanded his attention.

Sighing, Spencer made his way to the bathroom, quickly removing his contacts and replacing them with his glasses. The relief was immediate, but his curiosity about the late visitor lingered. With his glasses firmly on his nose, he cautiously approached the door, his heart thudding in his chest.

When he finally opened it, the last person he expected to see was standing there, a familiar smile lighting up her face.

“Hey, baby,” Y/N said, her voice soft and full of warmth.

Spencer’s heart skipped a beat, disbelief and joy washing over him in equal measure. For a moment, he simply stood there, taking in the sight of her, wondering if he was dreaming.

“Y/N?” he finally managed to say, his voice tinged with awe.

She nodded, stepping forward to close the distance between them, her presence a balm to the ache that had settled in his heart. “Surprise,” she said, her smile widening as she wrapped her arms around him in a warm embrace.

Spencer’s arms instinctively encircled her, pulling her close as he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The reality of her being there, in his arms, was almost too much to process. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the familiar scent that always seemed to calm him.

“How…?” he began, pulling back slightly to look at her, his eyes searching hers for answers. He couldn’t believe she was standing there, right in front of him.

Y/N smiled shyly, her eyes sparkling with excitement and a hint of nervousness. “Well, you see, I never got on the plane,” she confessed, biting her lip as she watched his reaction.

“You never got on the plane?” Spencer echoed, his mind racing to catch up with the reality unfolding before him.

“Nuh uh,” she shook her head, her expression softening. “I called my boss.”

“Okay…” Spencer replied, still processing the unexpected turn of events.

“I quit my job,” she announced, a note of finality in her voice.

“What? Why?” Spencer asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. He knew how much she had dedicated to her work.

“I never liked that job anyway,” Y/N admitted, shrugging slightly as if shedding an old skin.

“You loved that job,” Spencer countered, his voice filled with disbelief.

“Yeah, but I can love another job too,” she said, her smile widening as she stepped inside the apartment with her luggage trailing behind, trying to act casual.

“True… but that doesn’t answer my question,” Spencer replied, closing the door and turning to face her, his heart pounding with hope and anticipation.

Y/N paused, taking a deep breath as she gathered her courage. She met his gaze, her eyes filled with sincerity and warmth. “I also called my building manager.”

“You did?” Spencer asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Mhm. Turns out, breaking a lease isn’t that expensive when you’re month-to-month,” she said, a playful glint in her eyes.

“You broke your lease,” Spencer stated, surprise and admiration coloring his tone.

“Look at you keeping up,” Y/N teased, her voice light and teasing.

“Y/N…” Spencer began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words.

“I actually have a question for you,” Y/N said, stepping closer to him, her heart racing with excitement.

“Yes?” Spencer replied, his eyes locked on hers, feeling as if he were on the edge of something wonderful.

“How would you like to have a roommate?” she asked, her tone playful yet earnest. “She’s a little messy, snores a bit, hates to cook, terrible sense of humor, oh and get this, she’s unemployed and homeless.”

Spencer’s heart swelled with emotion, understanding dawning on him as a smile spread across his face. “She sounds like a handful,” he said softly, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

“You have big hands,” Y/N replied with a playful smirk.

“I’d love to have a roommate… under one condition,” Spencer continued.

“What’s that?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nightly head scratches,” he replied, grinning.

Y/N grinned, feeling a rush of relief and happiness at his response. “Deal,” she said, closing the distance between them and wrapping her arms around him, feeling the weight of uncertainty lift from her shoulders.

Spencer hugged her tightly, his heart full of gratitude and love for the woman who had chosen to stay. In that moment, everything felt right, as if the pieces of his life had finally fallen into place.

“You’re really staying?” Spencer whispered, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes, needing to hear her confirm it once more.

“I’m really staying,” Y/N replied, her eyes shining with certainty and joy.

And with that, they both knew that they were embarking on a new chapter together.

—

Spencer found himself standing in Y/N’s Las Vegas apartment, surrounded by boxes and the faint smell of cardboard and packing tape. It was a chaotic scene, but he was happy to be there, helping Y/N make this big move.

“Billie, this is my boyfriend, Doc Ock,” Y/N introduced with a grin, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Hi, I’m Spencer,” he said, extending a hand with a friendly smile.

“I like Doc Ock,” Billie replied, shaking his hand with a smirk.

“So, there’s two of you... great,” Spencer said sarcastically, throwing a look at Y/N before playfully rolling his eyes. “I’ll be in the U-Haul if you need me.”

“No, you don’t, big guy,” Y/N called after him, laughing. “We need some muscle.”

Billie chuckled, watching Spencer walk away with a theatrical sigh. They turned to Y/N, who was already diving into the nearest pile of boxes.

“Your boyfriend is quite the character,” Billie noted, lifting a box marked "Kitchen" with ease.

“Tell me about it,” Y/N said, shaking her head with a fond smile. “He keeps life interesting, that’s for sure.”

Spencer, returning with a box of his own, joined the conversation. “Hey, just trying to make sure things don’t get too boring around here.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Billie replied, flashing a grin. “With you two, I doubt boredom is ever an issue.”

The trio continued packing, the apartment slowly transforming into a labyrinth of boxes and furniture wrapped in bubble wrap. The atmosphere was filled with a sense of camaraderie and lighthearted banter as they worked together.

Spencer found himself enjoying the easy dynamic between them, appreciating Billie’s quick wit and the comfortable rhythm they had established with Y/N. It felt like being part of a team, and he was grateful for the support and companionship they offered.

As the hours passed, they took a break, sitting on the floor with takeout boxes spread before them. The conversation flowed naturally, shifting from memories of the past to dreams for the future.

“So, what’s the plan once you get to Virginia?” Billie asked, curiosity piqued.

Y/N glanced at Spencer, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “Well, we’re going to settle in, explore the area, and just take it one day at a time,” she said, her voice filled with hope and anticipation.

“And maybe find a job I actually like,” Y/N added with a laugh, leaning into Spencer's side. “Something that feels right.”

Spencer nodded, his heart swelling with pride at her tenacity. “I have no doubt you’ll find something amazing,” he said, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

“Yeah, and in the meantime, you’ve got Doc Ock here to keep you entertained,” Billie teased, earning a chuckle from both of them.

As the day drew to a close, the apartment was finally packed up, ready for the move. They stood together, looking at the neatly stacked boxes and feeling a sense of accomplishment and excitement for the new chapter ahead.

“Thanks for everything, Billie,” Y/N said, pulling them into a hug. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“Anytime, roomie,” Billie replied, their tone warm and affectionate. “And hey, Spencer, you’re not too bad yourself.”

“Thanks, I’ll take that as a compliment,” Spencer replied, smiling at the camaraderie they had built.

With the final box loaded into the U-Haul, they took one last look around the apartment, the memories they had made within its walls etched in their hearts.

“Ready?” Spencer asked, taking Y/N’s hand in his.

“Ready,” Y/N affirmed, feeling the thrill of the unknown mingling with the comfort of the familiar.

—

Spencer was filled with excitement and nervousness as he and Y/N drove through the scenic roads of Napa Valley, the picturesque vineyards stretching out on either side. The trip had been planned meticulously, a celebration of their one-year anniversary of dating and a nod to the place where their paths had crossed again five years prior.

“I can’t believe we’re back here,” Y/N said, gazing out the window, her eyes alight with nostalgia. “It feels like yesterday that we were running into each other at Adam’s wedding.”

“I know,” Spencer replied, glancing over at her with a warm smile. “It’s hard to believe how much has changed since then.”

They arrived at the hotel, a charming retreat nestled among the vines. As they checked in, Spencer couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu as they were handed the key to Room 212, the very room where their story had taken a new turn five years ago.

“Room 212,” Y/N read aloud, a grin spreading across her face. “You didn’t…”

“I did,” Spencer confirmed, his eyes twinkling with mischief and love. “I thought it would be fitting.”

Once inside the room, Y/N wandered around, taking in the familiar surroundings that were now filled with memories of their first encounter as adults. The atmosphere was charged with a sense of romance and anticipation, the promise of what was to come.

Spencer wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder as they looked out the window at the sprawling vineyards. “I thought we could relive some of our favorite moments,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.

“That sounds perfect,” Y/N replied, leaning into his embrace, feeling the warmth and security of his presence envelop her.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the landscape, Spencer suggested they take a walk in the garden, just as they had done five years ago. The garden was as beautiful as ever, the flowers in full bloom, their colors vibrant and alive.

They strolled hand in hand, the world around them quiet and serene. It was as if time had stood still, and the garden was theirs alone. Y/N marveled at the beauty of the moment, unaware of the surprise Spencer had planned.

As they reached a secluded spot where the stars began to twinkle overhead, Spencer stopped, turning to face her. His heart was pounding, but his resolve was steady.

“Hey, babe?” Spencer said, his voice carrying a soft hint of excitement and nervousness.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Y/N turned around, a curious smile on her face, the sunset casting a warm glow on her features.

Spencer took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment as he dropped to one knee. The world seemed to slow down, the colors of the sky blending into a beautiful canvas that mirrored the emotions swirling inside him.

Opening the box, he revealed a stunning ring that caught the light of the setting sun, sparkling like the stars beginning to emerge above them. “Will you marry me, Y/N?” he asked, his voice full of hope and love.

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, and a burst of laughter escaped her lips. “You jerk!” she laughed, tears of joy welling up in her eyes. “Yes, Spencer, of course!”

Spencer slipped the ring onto her finger, rising to his feet to pull her into a tight embrace. Their lips met in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, sealing the promise of their future together.

The garden seemed to shimmer with magic as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world around them fading away. It was a moment that felt both timeless and fleeting, a beautiful beginning to the next chapter of their lives.

As they made their way back to the hotel, hand in hand, Y/N couldn’t help but smile, her mind a whirl of excitement and dreams for the future. The air was crisp with the coolness of the evening, and the soft glow of the hotel lights guided their path.

“I can’t believe you planned all this,” she said, glancing at Spencer with adoration. Her heart felt light, as if it were dancing with every step they took.

Spencer chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through him at her words. “Had to let you redeem yourself for letting all of this go last time,” he replied, gesturing to his body with a playful wink.

Y/N laughed, the sound bright and joyful. “Does the ring come with a gift receipt?” she teased, raising an eyebrow in mock consideration.

Spencer feigned shock, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “Wow, you wound me, darling,” he said, his eyes twinkling with humor.

Their banter continued as they entered the hotel, the familiar surroundings now holding a new significance. The same room where they had reconnected years ago was now a witness to their engagement, a witness to the journey they had taken together.

Back in Room 212, they reminisced about their first meeting, their conversation laced with humor and fond memories. It was a perfect end to a perfect day, one that marked the beginning of a new and exciting chapter in their lives.

As they lay together, wrapped in the comfort of each other’s presence, Spencer felt a deep sense of peace and fulfillment. He knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, bound by the love that had brought them back to this place and would carry them forward into the future.

@spencerreidsreads & @spencerreidsglasses this is for you two ,, lets be friends please <333

[kingofbodyrolls]

End of the World (m) | myg | teaser

→ Summary: Your government has been telling you to prepare for war, just as a precaution given the recent political changes around your country. Did you listen and prepare? No. Are you paying the price now, friends all but gone, and your city burned to pieces? Yes. Survival instincts kicking in, you search for a place to rest, nourish your battered and hungry body, only to find yourself at the porch of a stranger. Will he help you, or leave you to your own demise?  → Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female) → Genres/AUs: science fiction, apocalyptic, survival, co-dependency to stay alive + heavy angst, fluff and smut. → Tropes: strangers to lovers, forced proximity (because love that shit) → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: still writing (approx 10-20k) it’s a one-shot! → Author’s note: hiya. I’m currently writing this apocalyptic story with Yoongi, because… well. I’m fucking scared. So this is me working through and with my fear for something that I’m afraid is actually going to happen. We don’t need to talk about it, because a lot of bad shit is happening all over the world 😭 This is purely a story, though made up by my fears, yeah. Anyway, it’s okay if you’re not into it! The vibe for it is like The Last of Us and maybe a bit Fallout, I think if you enjoy that type of stuff, you’ll enjoy this one too. But it’s really heavy, but there’s a decent amount of fluff to balance it out, because, it’s still a fanfiction and it wouldn’t be that without some good old fluff and smut 🥰

You know you must move, but before you leave, there’s a promise to fulfill for Yuri.

You relieve yourself and step back onto the road, eyes fixed on the distant horizon that seems miraculously untouched by the ravages of war. That glimmer of hope pulls you forward. You have to reach it. No matter the distance, no matter the obstacles, you must get there. 

It’s your only chance.

You walk and walk—days blur into weeks. Your clothes hang off your frame, tattered and too big. Bombings have become a constant backdrop, each explosion a distant rumble you barely acknowledge. The earth’s violent shudders no longer faze you. Hunger gnaws at you, a relentless companion, its grip tightening until you can’t even remember your last meal. Water, your only steadfast ally, has kept you moving; without it, you’d have long since fallen.

You trudge along the desolate highway, the city a distant speck on the horizon behind you. You have no sense of how far you’ve traveled, only that the remnants of your home have shrunk to a mere dot in your vision. The road stretches endlessly ahead, a bleak reminder of the ground yet to cover.

Dizziness is your constant companion now, your throat as parched as the Sahara despite your efforts to hydrate. Water is scarce, and you’ve been rationing it for days. Hope feels like a distant memory, and though the elusive horizon you’ve been chasing for weeks appears closer, it still seems maddeningly out of reach.

Your body feels like lead, your feet swollen and throbbing with every step. 

Sleep is a distant memory, haunted away by visions of blood-streaked faces, final breaths, and echoing cries. Bloodshot eyes and a disheveled appearance mark your struggle; you’re still in your tattered nightdress, stained with blood and reeking of fear and sweat. 

No food, no shower, just the relentless march through this wasteland.

You’ve lost track of time—is it still September? 

The biting cold cuts through you, your torn and ruined shoes barely offering any protection. You trudge onward, desperate to find shelter, weary of hiding in the bushes from strangers who might wish you harm. Paranoia grips you; every rustle in the distance, every shadow makes you jump. Trust is a luxury you can’t afford. You feel like you’re unraveling, teetering on the edge of sanity.

When your eyes land on a solitary house down a side street off the main road, you can hardly believe it. You’re nowhere near your end goal, the neighboring city, yet here it is—a lonesome house in the middle of fucking nowhere. You chuckle, convinced you’ve lost your mind. Why would there be a house out here, untouched by the chaos? You blink repeatedly, but the house remains. Your feet carry you forward, despite your spinning head and the jumbled mess of thoughts in your mind.

The house, partially concealed by tall trees and lush bushes miraculously untouched by the war, seems like a relic from a forgotten world. An old jeep, battered but intact, sits beside the porch with its white picket fence. You approach cautiously, every step feeling surreal, and lift your hand to knock. Your bloody knuckles leave crimson smears on the pristine white door, a stark reminder of the nightmare you can’t escape.

You lose track of time standing there, every second stretching into an eternity, before the door is abruptly ripped open. You find yourself staring down the barrel of a rifle.

“Who are you?” a male voice demands, harsh and suspicious, but the words barely register. Your vision blurs, darkness encroaching, and the last thing you feel is the hard impact of the porch floorboards against your head as you collapse.

→ Do you want to join Yoongi on a quest for survival as the world crumbles around you? Let me know and I’ll tag you when it drops 💜

Also please let me know if you’re interested, excited about it— otherwise I’m probably just gonna post it on my ao3 only, lol. I’m scared 🫣

Read the second teaser + book cover [here]!

It's been posted!!!!

[bad-and-drawn-that-way]

can I request a Vox x reader fluff where they've both been struggling to come to terms with their feelings but when something (you can decide what) happens and the reader gets hurt really badly, he confesses

ANOOOOOOOOON!! YOU. GET ME. SO GOOD. HOW DARE YOU HIT ME UP WITH ONE OF MY FAVORITE TROPES?? Literally, give this trope to me as many times as yall want. I'll find a million ways to write it. Reap the repercussions and enjoy the food you beautiful homie, you!

Star-Crossed Idiots [Vox x Reader]

Vox refused to believe it.

Velvette had been the one to call him out on his shit first. Unlike him, she had a semblance of emotional maturity that meant she was perceptive to shit that flew over his head entirely. While he didn't understand why he found himself going out of his way to spend time with you, Velvette figured it out in a matter of days. The very fact that he had kept his involvement with you a secret was suspicious in itself. Not to mention, Velvette realized before he did. When she discovered his feelings for you, she found it hilarious. And a touch pathetic.

"I mean really Vox, you have zero reason to even know them," Velvette scoffed as she sipped on the frappuccino he had used to buy her silence. Things were already messy enough with Valentino. He had no intention of the pissy moth hearing of this until whatever this was, was sorted.

"Yet you constantly check in on their phone activity, go out of your way to run into them on the streets, and now they're even working for you just because your needy ass wanted an excuse to see them on the regular," Velvette listed as Vox did everything in his power to avoid eye contact.

Vox buried his face in his hands and groaned while Velvette rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't it just be easier to ask them out at this point? I love you, darling, but you're making this so much more complicated than it needs to be."

"No," Vox growled as he looked up and shot her a warning glare. "Do you have any idea how much shit we'd be in if I just started dating some random sinner? And that's only if the feelings were mutual."

He ran his hand down his screen with a huff, turning to look at Vark swimming up to the glass. While Vox had originally had the aquarium extend to the meeting rooms for a sense of looming intimidation, he'd found quite a bit of comfort in his sharks being able to follow him through the tower.

"Look, for all we know, I'm just pent up," Vox tried to reason. It sounded fake, even to his own ears, but he was in denial. There was too much bullshit he'd have to face if he really was as whipped for you as he feared. "It's been a shit couple of weeks. I probably just need a break and a good fuck and this will all be something you make fun of me about next week for ever entertaining in the first place."

Velvette shook her head, sighing as she pulled out her phone and started to scroll.

"Whatever you say."

---

You refused to believe it.

There was no way you fell for Vox of all people. For starters, you told yourself you'd never love again! Every time you'd tried, disaster followed. It didn't help that any potential match was one to be made in Hell. Granted, you knew not everyone in Hell was bad. There were a lot of sinners who you firmly believed belonged in Heaven or some sort of equivalent.

But even so... Vox was definitely not one of those people. Not that that was the important part or truly mattered. You were no saint either, you were also in Hell.

"I don't see what the big deal is toots," Angel Dust sighed as he watched you give Fat Nuggets attention to keep your hands busy through the stress. "There are worse people to have a crush on."

"There's better too," you whined. "I'd rather not have a crush at all," you muttered bitterly as your hand continued the soothing action of petting the teacup pig.

You'd originally been on the production team for one of Valentino's studios. That was how you befriended Angel Dust and why Vox scooped you out from under Valentino to work on his own set. He told you it was because he valued someone who had an ear for audio balance, but Angel said he'd only offered you the new job after the overlord walked in on the cameraman flirting with you right before.

"Why not just fuck the guy and see if it's a matter of heart or a matter of-"

You laughed as you covered Angel's mouth with one of your hands. "Okay, okay! Don't... finish that sentence. I won't let you taint poor little Fat Nuggets ears with your porn language."

Angel snickered as you pulled back your hand. "But you see my point, right?"

"I do," you sighed. "But that's... not really my style. If anything, I think it'd just hurt to see him after something like a casual fling. The idea of him wanting my body, but not me? Yeah no. I'll choose the healthier option of repressing my feelings, thank you very much."

"I'm telling ya, he's into you," Angel groaned. "I've seen the way he is with people he thinks are hot. I've seen him with Val. You're different, toots."

You smile sadly at Angel and put Fat Nuggets down on the bed. It was clear you didn't believe Angel and he was on the verge of ripping out his fur because of it. The two of you were so unbelievably oblivious it was gonna kill him again. "Thanks, Angie but... it's okay. Really, it is."

He sighed and eventually let it go. The two of you talked about other things for a while before Charlie peeked into his room to ask for your help on something. Once you were gone, he rolled over the conversation in his mind as he tried to think of ways to get the ball rolling on your love life.

Angel shook his head with a sigh and pulled out his phone. He scooped up Fat Nuggets and flopped back in his bed as the dialing sound filled the room. The line connected, and he was quick to the point.

"Hey, I know we don't really talk, but I've got an idea."

---

"Really Angie, I don't think this was necessary," You grumbled as you tugged down on the all-too-short skirt of the outfit he'd squeezed you into.

"Oh, but it was and it is," Angel grinned as he took your hand and twirled you in the entry hall to the club. You rolled your eyes and let him spin you in jest. He'd asked you to come with him to one of your old coworkers' birthday parties.

Apparently, one of the rules was to dress like you'd get hired to dance at the club. At least, that had been Angel's excuse when you questioned why he was hovering over you as he did your hair, and makeup and held up several outfits to your body that you doubted would fit.

Despite the discomfort of getting all dolled up, you were happy he'd invited you. It had been a while since you saw your old friends. That being said, it would have been more fun if you weren't tugging down your skirt every two minutes. You weren't the only one hyperaware of how much of your skin was exposed. Nor of the way the fabric hugged your frame tightly. Several of your old friends had suggested you return to the studio with a job in front of the camera instead of in the shadows of the set.

You'd been having a good time, sticking to the corner of the room with some of your old friends to watch the drinks while the rest were out on the dance floor. One of the drunker sinners of the bunch accidentally knocked over some of the drinks while she'd been telling a story about the recent cam show she did. You volunteered to go get more napkins from the bar. One of your friends came with you to reorder the ruined drinks and the two of you had nearly pushed your way through the crowd when you heard a familiar voice call your name through the noise.

Vox didn't have to fight through the crowd the way you had. The second sinners saw the glow of his screen, they were quick to move out of his path. Your friend touched your arm, pulling your attention away from the approaching overlord. They winked at you and told you they had the drink issue handled.

When you turned, you caught Vox's screen flickering from pink to his usual blue. You had never seen any color other than the "You don't get to sleep" blue light, so you assumed it was just a trick of the flashing dance lights above.

"I didn't think you'd be here," you say to break the tension. This wasn't the first time you'd seen him in casual wear, nor was it the first time you'd seen Vox since realizing you had feelings for him. Even so, your heart was beating hard just from the sight of him.

"A-Ah yeah, well," Vox stammered as the music blared through the busy room. "Velvette wanted to drop by. She said something about wanting to check the place out as a potential venue for an upcoming show."

"Just the two of you?" you ask, perking up slightly.

"It was supposed to be," Vox chuckled dryly. His grin was tired and forced as he looked to the side and scanned the room. "Valentino heard we were coming here and tagged along. I don't know why, but Velvette got really heated about it. Something about him fucking up her plans..."

"Oh," your shoulders drop. You cringe internally, wishing you could take back the bitterness in your voice. You hoped it wasn't too obvious, but the way Vox was looking at you like you were some sort of a puzzle told you everything you needed to know.

You actually loved Velevette. She was sassy and cutthroat but had a kind side to her as well. Valentino however... He'd been the source of a lot of suffering for the people you cared about. While the more obvious examples of Angel Dust returning to the hotel looking like shit came to mind, so did the times you had to comfort Vox after being yanked this way and that by the moth emotionally.

That was actually how you'd realized you'd come to care for him as deeply as you do. He'd been standing alone in one of the meeting rooms with a distant look on his face. When you found him and asked him if he was okay, he tried to play it off with his usual bravado, but couldn't. He never cried in front of you, he only vented his frustrations about Valentino and you listened. You sympathized. And eventually, you found yourself wishing you could be the one to treat him better.

Vox opened his mouth to say something, only for Valentino to slip his arm around his shoulder, appearing out of nowhere from the crowd.

"There you are baby," he purred, his fingers immediately slipping under the collar of Vox's vest. You resisted the urge to gag as Valentino took a long puff from his pipe and blew the majority of the smoke in your direction.

"I was wondering where you up and fucked off to," Valentino grinned as he leaned down to nip drunkenly at Vox's shoulder. "You left me all alone with our little fashionista, "Valentino scoffed. "She's in such a bitchy mood."

If it wasn't bad enough that Valentino was practically drooling all over Vox in front of you and pretending you weren't there, insult was only added to injury when Valentino grinned at you with sharp teeth when he called Velvette bitchy.

"Come back and unwind with me," Valentino hummed as he started to kiss up Vox's neck. "Some of my best toys are here tonight. Don't you want to play?"

If Vox had any doubt he was in Hell before, he had every reason to confirm the fact at this moment. He'd fallen out of love with Valentino, but the almost... the almost killed him. To make it worse, he was completely frozen, letting it all happen in front of you. He made no moves to stop Valentino, he made no moves to reciprocate. He simply froze.

Unable to watch any longer as Vox continued to fall for the very same game of tug-o-war he told you he was done with, you bite your lip and turn on your heel. You can't tell if you heard Vox say your name or if it was just a trick of the crowd.

"Anyone else gonna drink this?" You asked as you rejoined your friends still at the table and pointed to one of the more full glasses left on the table. When your friends who were sober enough to answer said you could go for it, you tossed it back in one shot.

You griped to one of your friends who had stayed behind to watch over those too drunk to make good choices. The two of you had been having a damn good venting session about how stupid you felt your feelings were when the entire bar swayed. Your words slurred as your body grew heavy.

One second you were sitting up, wondering why your friend looked so concerned. The next second there was a sharp pain against the temple of your forehead, followed by a heavy thunk, more pain, and darkness.

---

Vox had been desperately searching the dance floor for any sign of you. He'd torn away from Valentino and the moth hadn't bothered to follow. Vox would... handle that another time. For as much as he denied his feelings for you this morning, the second he saw the hurt look in your eyes he knew he had to tell you. There was no way he could ignore the sharp lurch in his chest at the sight of you.

He didn't know what it meant. He couldn't tell if it was just a sense of betrayal after he'd been so open with you about Valentino or if it was something more. Every time he found himself wanting to talk about his true feelings on anything, he wanted to talk to you. Every time he had a rare second alone in the middle of the night, the only touch he craved was yours. Yes, he had a history with Valentino, but he didn't actively want that. He wanted you.

He finally spotted you across the room, sitting at a table with one of the whores he'd seen at Valentino's studio and getting way too close to them for his liking. He made his way through the drunken idiots who were too far gone to notice him, keeping his eyes on you as you started swaying dangerously.

You tried to reach down for something on the table and Vox swore as you lost what little balance you had and fell over. Someone got in his way so he didn't see the impact, but somehow he heard it. Through all the noise he heard the sharp thud and the panicked swearing of the person you were with after.

Vox was suddenly shoving every idiot out of his way, ignoring their shouts as he ran into the small clearing and found you on the ground with blood seeping from your head. He was immediately on his knees, scooping you up as the sinner who'd been with you started freaking out.

The only thing Vox could hear was a high-pitched whine as he pulled you to him and tried to frantically find where you were bleeding from. Half of your head was dripping with blood and he vaguely registered your friend saying your head had hit the edge of the table.

"Just s̴̢̃ḧ̸̺u̸͇͋t̷̯͂ ̷̬̂u̶͖̓p̵̳͗!̶̳͌," Vox snapped as he whipped up and affixed the sinner with a violent glare. He didn't care that half the club was looking at him. For once, he didn't care that he'd made a scene. Logically, he knew something like this couldn't kill you, you were all already dead. But his hands were shaking violently and the buzzing in his head was getting louder because you weren't moving.

Everything around him flashed with bright blue light as he held you close and teleported out of the club without even thinking about it. The two of you reappeared in his room back at the tower and he let out a shaky breath as he placed you down on his bed.

Not knowing what to do, Vox quickly crossed the room and threw his bathroom door open as he searched for anything he could use to stop the bleeding. He was muttering furiously as he nearly ripped the hinges off the cupboard under the sink looking for anything he could use.

Vox let out a loud, angry shout as his body kept glitching. His movements were jerky and he'd hit his head on the sink twice now. Just as he was about to have an absolute meltdown, he heard you groan from his bedroom. His head snapped up and he turned around at the sound of your voice so fast he was surprised he didn't snap his own neck.

Vox yanked a towel off of the wall and scrambled across the nylon tiles as he fell into his room with all the grace of a CEO that he clearly had. He swore, picking himself up and coming over to you as you sat up and clutched your head.

"Shit, that stuff was stronger than I thought," you groaned. "Note to self, don't just chug random alcohol at the club." you tried to laugh, only to hiss as the pain in your head doubled down due to the movement.

"You're a fucking idiot," Vox sighed as he sat down next to you and lifted the towel to your head.

You flinched at the contact, and Vox grabbed your wrist with his free hand. "Stay still," he frowned, pressing again on the wound. "You're still bleeding."

Trying not to do more damage, you stay as still as possible while he tries to stop the bleeding. The silence is heavy between the two of you before you mumble quietly.

"Sorry..."

Vox blinks, frowning down at you. "For what?"

You avoid eye contact the best you can given your current condition and fist your hands on your thighs nervously. "For acting like an idiot. You've told me about how hard it is with Valentino. I should've said or done something and not have gotten..."

"Upset?" Vox finished for you quietly. You flinched, unable to read the tone in his voice. He sighed and slowly lifted the towel from your head, before lowering it. "Why did you?"

"It's stupid," you bite your lip, hand drifting up curiously to see how bad the wound is. Before your fingers could brush against your hair, Vox's hand grabbed your wrists again.

"Try me."

You couldn't say if it was due to the pain, blood loss, or alcohol in your system, but the moment you finally gathered the courage to look him in the eye, you said fuck it. Vox gasped as you surged forward and pressed your lips against his. He'd barely had a chance to process the feeling before you were already turned away from him and rambling some bullshit about how you knew he didn't feel the same.

He took your hand, ignoring the anxious nonsense flowing from your mouth, and lifted it to his lips. Your speech died on your tongue as his lips pressed against the palm of your hand.

"Do you have any idea how much you've been on my mind?" He growled softly, his lips trailing up your arm slowly as he practically worshiped your skin.

If it wasn't for the fact that your blood was still on his hands, Vox would have been so much more rough with you. He would have grabbed you and crashed his lips against yours. He would have torn the fabric that hugged your curves so tightly off of your body and shown you just how badly he'd been needing you.

Instead, he made do with tracing his claw under your chin and guiding you to face him properly. His eyes searched yours for any doubt or sign that you'd acted purely on adrenaline and not something more. When your breath hitched and your cheeks flushed, he knew. As he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, as his arms snaked down and pulled you flush against him like you'd break, as your fingers found a home in his vest he knew.

You wanted him too. You fell for him too. This wasn't a game of "do they, don't they" like the one he'd played with Valentino for so fucking long.

His breath hitched, his arms tightening around you before he slowly pulled back and laughed breathlessly.

"Does this mean we're dating?" you ask, smiling at him like he'd hung the stars in the sky.

"God that sounds cheesy," Vox grimaced. The phrase felt so... high school bullshit. But it wasn't wrong. He wanted that. He really wanted that with you.

He reached down, hesitating before his clawed hand gently covered yours. "But yeah... I guess it does," he smiled softer than you'd ever seen before.

[icarusignite]

PIRATE! ATEEZ MASTERLIST

The ships have come to carry you home Pairing: Captain Hongjoong x Runaway Princess Reader Summary: Weary of the gilded cage of royalty, you escape your opulent life, only to realize that your longing for freedom has landed you in the clutches of ruthless pirates. Determined to prove your worth, you must persuade the enigmatic captain to defy the bounty on your head.

Pairing: Siren Yeosang x Poacher Reader Summary: You have always lived by the code of the hunt, and as a skilled poacher of exotic creatures, the only law you abide by is that of your own survival. But when a lucrative contract tasks you with capturing a siren alive, you find yourself ensnared in a perilous game where delivering the prize without succumbing to your own guilt or its elusive song proves impossible. (coming soon)

Pairing: Ex-Naval Officer Jongho x Captive Reader Summary: As the daughter of the naval commander, you find yourself ensnared by the very pirates your father hunts. Among them, your most ruthless captor is none other than the man who once served your father but is now a deserter of the worst kind. As days turn to weeks, you uncover the hidden truths that drove him from the ranks of the navy, and through the eyes of your captor, you witness the cruel corruption that festers within the very force sworn to protect the seas. (coming soon)

Pairing: Cartographer Yunho x Pirate Reader Summary: When you find yourself marooned on a remote island after your ship is stolen, you must rely on your wits to survive. With the unexpected help of an old friend, you join a new crew ready to take back what was yours. Among your new allies is the soft-spoken cartographer, whose quiet strength and compassion offer you unexpected comfort. (coming soon)

Pairing: Explosives Master Mingi x Medic Reader Summary: Life as the ship's medic is no easy task, battling not only the fierce skirmishes and injuries typical of a pirate's life but also the ship's resident explosive expert, who constantly finds new excuses to seek your company, often accompanied by yet another injury for you to tend to. Despite your repeated warnings, his cavalier attitude toward safety continues to test your patience and skills, until his recklessness costs him more than he could ever anticipate. (coming soon)

Pairing: Lookout San x Spy reader Summary: You have managed to infiltrate a notorious pirate ship through deception and lies. Your mission: to pass on their secrets to their enemies. But navigating the perilous waters becomes increasingly difficult when you discover the all-seeing eyes of the ship's lookout, who seems to witness all and scrutinize your every move. Caught between the need for stealth and the watchful gaze that seems to penetrate your every facade, you must tread carefully, or risk being exposed and facing dire consequences. (coming soon)

Pairing: Firstmate Seonghwa x Ghost Reader Summary: Trapped for centuries within an ancient artifact as a restless ghost, you find yourself unexpectedly released by the intimidating first mate of a pirate ship. However, there's more to him than meets the eye, and as you struggle to adapt to a world you no longer recognize, he finds himself strangely drawn to you and your secrets. (coming soon)

Pairing: Quartermaster Wooyoung x Pirate Hunter Reader Summary: You have dedicated your life to eradicating piracy from the seas, but when a case of mistaken identity finds you on the wrong side of the law, you're forced to flee with the very crew you have sworn to destroy. Onboard the pirate ship, tensions run high, and you find yourself torn between your duty and an unexpected connection with the charming quartermaster who is determined to make you stay. (coming soon)

A/N: lol so Ateez at Coachella was my final straw and I absolutely had to write for them. This pirate/maritime theme has been rattling around in my head for a while so I'm excited to get into it. They're probably going to be one-shots or maybe 2 parters if they get long. Comment if you wanna be added to the tag list <3 will probably post the first one sometime next week cuz exams this week rip

[celestialglow24]

••• Sharing the Bed•••

Frank Castle x AFAB Reader

Reader is wondering how things will be with Frank now after asking him to be her fake boyfriend at her sister’s wedding.

3.9k words

Inspired by the faking dating prompts from @thelonelyempath https://www.tumblr.com/thelonelyempath/705043295893618688/fake-dating-prompts?source=share

Using prompt #25 “I kinda liked sharing the bed with you”

I’ve had such a writing bug lately and im taking advantage of it while i’ve got it! Enjoy xxx

You were nervous to see him again.

It had been a couple weeks since you’d convinced Frank to be your fake boyfriend for your sister’s wedding.

You had panicked when your mom called you at work, saying you had pushed it off long enough and she needed an answer right now if you were bringing a plus one or not.

You almost said no, but after she made a snide comment about already knowing the answer—she was just asking as a courtesy to your sister—you cracked and told her you’d been seeing someone for months now.

When she asked who, your eyes had landed on one of the few patrons left at the bar that night.

Frank Castle.

Surprisingly he agreed to go. It was probably the desperation in your voice and the pleading of your eyes—you didn’t have time to think about how pathetic you felt—but you were thankful nonetheless.

It’s been 14 days since you got back and you haven’t seen him since. Not that you were counting the days or anything.

No texts.

No phone calls.

Just silence.

Normally you wouldn’t think much of it. Even though Frank had become a regular at the bar and restaurant you worked at, he’d disappear for days and weeks at a time.

You’d try and make small talk when he came back. Hoping to get any kind of inclination as to what Frank Castle got up to in his spare time.

He was still such a mystery to you. A very attractive mystery at that. One that you were determined to figure out.

However, as much as you tried, you never got the answer you were searching for.

It was always “business” or “nothing you’d find interesting, sweetheart”.

You never really gave it much thought when he offered those responses, you just accepted that Frank was not an open book. He was a locked book. One kept on the highest shelf that you’d probably never be able to reach.

And yet despite knowing all this you couldn’t help but wonder if your time away together had anything to do with his sudden absence.

You worried things would get awkward. Especially after having to share a bed together. He offered to sleep on the floor but you shot that down quick.

Not only would you feel enormously guilty having him sleep on the hardwood floor—he complained about his back a lot—but you were worried someone might walk in and your fake dating charade would unravel.

The silent crush you’d been harboring had only gotten louder after several days with Frank. Having to hold hands, talk sweetly to each other and even slow dance at the wedding had your mind all in a haze.

What was real and what wasn’t?

Did he feel anything? Or was he just a really good actor?

It was driving you crazy.

One thing was for certain, your family adored him. Especially your equally intimidating, hard-to-please father.

In fact, your dad liked him so much he invited him to go hunting in a few months.

It had taken years before he even extended an invite like that to your sister’s now husband.

You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing when you watched the way his eyes had widened and mouth parted when Frank agreed to go—your sister offering a reassuring pat to his arm.

You figured it had something to do with the fact they were both veterans. Your dad took an instant liking to anyone who could relate to the struggle and strength it took to serve in the military.

And your mother. The way she fawned over everything Frank said and did. His manners, how he consistently answered with “yes, ma’am” and “no, ma’am”.

She just about fell over when she came into the kitchen one morning to find he had managed to fix that pesky dishwasher that had been giving her trouble for months.

You smiled at the memory, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. Another thought had overshadowed it. One that caused a sudden pit to form in your stomach. How were you going to break the news to your family that things with Frank weren’t working out?

The plan was to give it a few weeks and then call to let them know you’d decided to take some time apart. You were both realizing you needed different things, but you would remain friends.

It sounded reasonable, but now? You didn’t think you could handle their disappointment.

You’d never seen them so proud of you. So happy for you. Pleasing your parents always felt like an impossible task. The closer you got there was always some dip in the road that caused that approval to move further and further away.

You finally bring someone home that they approved of only to rip the hope away from them. You were sure they’d find some way to blame it all on you.

You were starting to remember what it felt like when you told them you wouldn’t be going to college.

It didn’t matter that you were excellent at your job, managing both the bar and the restaurant on your own. It didn’t matter that you were able to make more than enough money to support yourself. And it certainly didn’t matter that you had helped exceed the profit goals of each quarter since you started.

It didn’t matter that you had been busting your ass to save back money to buy the place for yourself when the owner retired soon.

It only mattered that you didn’t have a “career” or a family to call your own.

Frank had picked up on the tension pretty early on. He did his best to talk you up. You found it sweet. Endearing even.

One night, while the two of you were dancing to some slow, sappy song your sister picked out, Frank called you out on your off demeanor.

You were surprised he noticed, you thought you had mastered the art of appearing fine when deep down you really weren’t.

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” he spoke lowly in your ear. One of his hands rested on the small of your back while the other held your hand close to his chest. His thumb ran back and forth along your hand and you tried to ignore the swarm of butterflies wreaking havoc on your stomach.

“I’m wondering how Uncle Steven has managed to go this long without throwing up. I thought for sure the cupid shuffle would’ve done it.”

Frank turned to look in the direction you were staring. Your Uncle Steven was somehow still performing the steps to the dance from 3 songs ago. Frank lightly chuckled as he watched Steven spill some of his beer on the couple next to him.

Though he couldn’t deny he was also wondering how the old man hadn’t crashed yet, he knew that’s not what you were really thinking about.

You were trying to deflect.

He was starting to learn just how stubborn you could be, but unlucky for you, Frank wasn’t gonna let you off the hook that easily.

“Nah that ain’t it.” he shook his head. “I can tell there’s a lot more going on behind those eyes.”

You were slightly relieved the lights were dim in the reception so he couldn’t see the deep blush heating up your face. You weren’t good at making eye contact with people you were crushing on.

“I think you’re imagining things.” you replied avoiding his gaze. “I’m just tired, I think this week is finally catching up to me.”

“Hm.” Frank hummed.

“What?”

“I think we’re about to have our first fight.”

You scoffed, ”Oh yeah? and what’s this ‘first fight’ gonna be about?”

“How you’re lying to your boyfriend.” he replied, speaking low into your ear again. It shouldn’t have caused the hairs on your neck to stand up but it certainly did.

“Look, you listen to assholes mope and complain all day long about their sad fucked up lives. I think it’s only fair to return the favor.” he shrugged. “So tonight i’ll do your job and you can let it all out right now. Minus the crude comments and shitty tips.”

You were about to laugh and lightly shove Frank for messing with you, but the look on his face made you pause.

He was being serious.

“Is it your folks?” he asked. “I saw your face when your dad gave that speech. That smile you were forcin’, it didn’t reach your eyes.”

You bit your lip and lowered your stare to the dress shirt he was wearing, playing nervously with one of the buttons to avoid looking up at him.

“That obvious huh?” you laughed sadly.

Frank felt bad as he watched the hurt wash over your features. He knew all too well the overwhelming pressure to please one’s family. He grew up with an overbearing father who never thought he’d amount to anything.

He knew how much that disappointment could eat you alive.

“It’s just, no matter what I do. I know my dad will never speak about me the way he does my sister. She’s an ivy league graduate who just got into med school. She’s married now, moving to a new city and probably going to be popping out kids before the end of next year. and me? In his eyes I'm just a bartender in a small town with no ambitious goal in sight.”

Frank nodded in understanding. He could see from the outside how the comparison could make you feel that way.

“Are you happy?”

You thought about it for a second. Even though the job had its ups and downs—managing a restaurant and a busy bar was no easy feat—you could honestly say you enjoyed what you did.

You got to know a lot of the locals well and it always made you feel good to know that you’d helped make their day or night a little better.

You loved the house you recently bought. It was a bit of a fixer upper but it was yours.

You loved how independent you were. How you could come home after a long day and you didn’t have to cook for a litter of kids.

It was just your dog, cat and you.

“Honestly? Yeah, I think I am.”

“Then fuck em.” he shrugged.

“Frank I-”

“Nah, nah.” he cut you off. “I know that’s your family but that don’t mean they’re always right. If you like what you do and you’re happy then who gives a shit what anyone else thinks.”

You processed Frank’s words and while you knew he was probably right, it didn’t mean it was easy to just tune out your parents’ criticism.

Frank seemed to know what you weren’t saying out loud because he followed it up with something that made your heart swell.

“All i’m saying is if they can look at you and what you’re doing and feel anything but proud there’s something wrong with ‘em. Not you.”

You could’ve kissed him right there but the song had ended and couples were clearing the dance floor.

Instead you walked back to the table with Frank, your arm looped through his.

You couldn’t help but think about how this man was screwing with your heart and your head and he didn’t even know it.

That much was still true all these days later. At this point you were dying for him to show up again.

Even if he didn’t talk to you, you’d at least know he wasn’t avoiding this whole place because of you.

The night was winding down, the 2 am crowd had begun to disperse and your eyes were fighting hard to stay awake. You’d chosen to work a double today, one of the other bartenders had a family emergency.

In your 20s you could work shifts like this and bounce right back the next day but now? In your 30s you were lucky if you managed to wake up without an achy back and sore feet.

“Phil, I'm gonna run the last of the trash out and then I'm heading home. I left the keys to lock up in the front drawer.” you shouted to the line cook in the back.

You could see him mopping up the kitchen floor so you knew he wouldn’t be too far behind you.

“You sure you don’t want me to go with ya this time?” he shouted back, “I’d hate for a creepy critter to make you run like you’d seen a ghost again.”

You rolled your eyes as Phil roared with laughter. Referencing the one time a little group of racoons had taken up residence inside the restaurant dumpster and sent you running like Freddy Krueger himself was chasing you.

“I think i’ll manage this time Phil, thanks for looking out.” you replied playfully.

You picked up the large trash bags and backed into the front door to head out. It was really inconvenient but they recently had moved the trash compactor across the street.

Not only was it annoying during the day when the streets were busy but it was extra spooky at night.

Once you were out of the door you turned around only to gasp and drop the trash bags you were holding.

“Jesus, Frank.” you cried, “What the hell were you trying to do, give me a fucking heart attack?”

You were too distracted by the adrenaline coursing through your veins to realize the man you’d been waiting to see for the last two weeks was finally standing in front of you.

“My bad, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that. I tried to go by your place and you weren’t there so I figured you might be here.”

You blew out a puff of hair and a couple pieces of your hair went flying.

“You were looking for me?”

“Yeah, sorry I know it’s late. I wanted to make sure you got this back. Somehow I think it got mixed up in my things.”

Frank pulled out a pink phone charger from his jacket pocket and extended it out to you.

You had a million of these things scattered around your house so you honestly hadn’t noticed it was missing. It was sweet of him to bring it back to you though.

“Oh Frank, you didn’t have to worry about that.” you replied, walking forward to retrieve it. “But thank you”.

You beamed a genuine smile at Frank while holding up the charger in your hand and he thought his heart had grown 2 sizes. Just like the Grinch his kids used to watch.

There was something about your smile that always stopped him in his tracks. He would never get tired of seeing it.

“Nah it’s nothin’.” he shrugged. “May I?”

He gestured toward the garbage bags sitting on the ground and bent over to pick them up.

“You don’t have to!” you tried to stop him, but subconsciously you knew it would be pointless.

Frank was always a gentleman and while he knew you would have no trouble carrying them on your own, he wouldn’t feel right not offering a hand.

“Can I atleast carry one of them?” you asked sweetly.

There was that damn smile again. How could he say no?

The two of you walked in silence for a bit, it wasn’t awkward but it was clear you were both trying to think of what to say next.

How do two people that recently spent a week pretending to be a couple go back to normal?

You decided to break the silence as the two of you walked back toward the bar.

“I, um, never got to properly thank you for helping with my family. I know it was probably a bit weird but it meant more to me than you could ever know. I think my parents would’ve had us get married that same night if it were up to them.” you laughed, playing nervously with your hands.

“Is that right?” Franked looked down at you with an amused expression.

“God, yes. I think you’re probably gonna be the only guy I bring home that they will ever like. I actually feel bad for the next guy that has to live up to the great Frank Castle.” you nudged him as you walked and he let out the most glorious laugh you’d ever heard.

You wanted to hear that more.

“Well if i’m the measuring stick for all the future men in your life then it’s your parents I feel sorry for.”

“Hey!” you exclaimed, playfully swatting his shoulder, “What do you mean by ‘all the future men in your life’? You think I still got a revolving door of men to get through before I finally settle down?”

It was meant to be playful banter, but there was a look that settled in Frank’s eyes and the mood suddenly got a bit more serious.

“I sure hope not.”

You weren’t sure how to take his comment. Maybe you were over analyzing but there was a part of you that was hoping he said that because he wanted you.

Wishful thinking of course.

You cleared your throat to help ease the tension.

“So, you just get back from whatever mystery place you squandered off to?”

“Just taking care of some business, sweetheart.”

That famous phrase again. You simply nodded. Accepting once again that you would probably not get any further information than that.

“But you know it’s funny.” he smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “There I was, lying in bed in some run down roach motel off the highway, having a hell of time trying to fall asleep each night.

“It coulda been the state of the motel—that place was a real shitbox—but the more I laid there, the more I realized it felt like I was missing something.”

Frank started fidgeting a bit. Almost like he was nervous or something. It was strange. You didn't think a guy like him got nervous.

“I realized, I kinda liked sharing the bed with you.”

Your heart started hammering away in your chest. Did you hear him right? Frank Castle liked sharing a bed with you? So much so that it was keeping him up at night?

You had to be dreaming.

“Really?”

You tried to act nonchalant but the word came out all high and squeaky. You don’t think Frank noticed though.

“Yeah, believe it or not I’d gotten so used to having no covers at night, I just tossed the damn thing on the ground.”

You gasped and punched his shoulder slightly. “Hey, I warned you I would probably take all the blankets. You coulda pulled them right back.”

Frank laughed again.

“Nah, you were too cute wrapped up like a burrito. Besides, I was more worried if I tried you’d whack my head or kick my nuts. You sure do move around a lot in your sleep.”

You feigned hurt, placing a hand to your chest.

“And just why do you miss sharing a bed with me so much? It doesn't sound so pleasant based on what you’re saying.”

Frank looked off and smiled. “I don’t know.”

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you.

“Look, uh, I’m not really good at this. I’ve been out of the game for a long time so you’ll have to forgive me but-”

“Frank Castle.” you cut him off.

“Yeah?”

“Are you about to ask if you can sleep in my bed tonight?”

Frank’s eyebrows shot up and a panicked sort of look took residence on his face. “Shit, no I didn’t mean it like that. I was just-”

He stopped when he saw you throw your head back in laughter.

“What?” he asked, trying to fight off the smile that was beginning to form on his own face. Your laugh was just too damn contagious.

“I’m sorry,” you said between breaths,”You shoulda seen your face. I was just messing with you Frank.”

“Oh yeah?” he laughed, poking your side. “You think that shit was funny huh?”

Suddenly you felt yourself being lifted off the ground and over Frank’s shoulder. “I can be real fucking hilarious. How about I carry you home just like this?”

“Frank!” you screamed playfully, swatting at his back. “Put me down you asshole!”

“No, I think I like this view better.”

You continued to hit his back and laugh. You were just about to come back with your own smart comment when you heard a car pull up beside you.

“Is everything alright here?”

You turned to look, adjusting your hair so it was out of your face. It was an officer staring at you both with a confused expression.

You could’ve sworn you heard Frank growl a little bit.

“Uh we’re good officer!” you smiled, giving him a thumbs up.

“She had a bit too much to drink tonight. Tried to drive home. Just makin sure she gets home safe. She’s a stubborn thing.” Frank spoke up, making sure to pat your ass for dramatic effect.

The officer seemed to buy this story.

“Well miss, you got a good man there. You should probably listen to him more often.” he replied before rolling up the window.

You gasped and Frank roared with laughter.

“Thanks officer!” he shouted as the man drove away.

You poked his side hard and he finally released you, setting you down in front of him. Your faces were real close together now, and the smiles you both had slowly fell.

There was a quiet moment before you quickly leaned in and kissed Frank. He seemed surprised at first but thankfully responded and pulled you in tighter.

His hands roamed your body while yours held his face.

You pulled away gently, and he rested his forehead on yours.

“You know, I thought you’d been avoiding me.” you said quietly.

“Yeah?” he replied, moving a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I know you disappear sometimes but I thought this time was gonna be different.”

Frank nodded, running his hands down your shoulders before grabbing both of your hands in his own.

“You know, I got a confession.” he said quietly, “I swiped that phone charger before we left.”

You leaned back and looked up at him.

“What?”

He let out a soft chuckle. “I know it’s stupid but I wanted an excuse to see you again. Like I said, it's been a while since I’ve done anything like this and I didn’t think I could just approach you in the bar like before.”

“It’s not stupid.” you smiled, squeezing his hands. “It’s sweet.”

“So i’m sweet now? Just a second ago I was a asshole.”

“Both can be true.” you shrugged.

He scoffed. “Come here.”

Frank pulled you into him and you wrapped your arms around his waist. He placed a kiss on your head and it suddenly felt like it did when you were with your parents.

It just felt natural.

“Let me take you out.” he said, pulling back and tilting your chin up at him. “On a real date.”

You bit your lip and smiled, “I’d like that.”

“Good.” he replied before kissing you again.

“Now let’s go before that cop comes back around and you gotta act drunk for him.”

You rolled your eyes, “Whatever you say, Frank. I gotta listen to you more right?”

“Attagirl.” he smiled, before putting his arm around your shoulder.

[lynnie-ee]

Day 9; What if.

╰┈➤"Silver watches you from afar at the library, never adventurous enough to talk to you. Will he gather the courage to do so, or will it be too late by then?"

╰►Gender neutral reader, one-shot, 1.4k words. Angst in the final part.

╰► Character: Silver.

╰►Note: The prompts are based on words I found interesting and then I put them on a roulette to decide when I would write about them, lol. English is not my first language, so please let me know if there are any grammatical mistakes <3. Not proof read, I haven't written in a long time, so I apologise if anything is out of character.

╰►Masterlist / Inktober Masterlist.

⤿

⤿

You look pretty when you're concentrated.

That’s what Silver believes.

That’s what he has thought for months now, observing you from afar but never actually speaking to you. He had no reason for it, he reasoned. You weren’t classmates, you weren’t in the same year, you weren’t part of the same club as him, and you didn’t go to Diasomnia often. But still, he found comfort in observing you after class, two tables away from you in the library, too focused to even notice his gaze.

Lilia had suggested to him the library as a better place to study, saying that maybe he wouldn’t fall asleep so quickly there, with so many people around, but he wouldn’t be too distracted by sudden noises, as he would be in Diasomnia, and Silver followed his advice.

The first day he failed, horribly. He chose a corner that was way too lonely, making him fall asleep through the whole evening before the librarian went to him to ask him to leave due to the late hours.

The second day was better, as he chose a more transited table, with enough people passing around to keep him alert. But it was way too crowded, and when he got up to look for another book, someone else had already taken his seat.

On the third day, he found a nice spot, with few people and a lot of silence. He took a seat at the table next to the window, and that’s when he saw you. He knew who you were, as everyone in the school. A magicless student from another world wasn’t often seen around, after all, but you never had the opportunity to talk before.

And he found encouragement in how dedicated you seemed to read the giant books that awaited next to you, all of them providing you with information about a world you knew nothing about yet. At first, he gazed at you when he felt himself about to fall asleep, but a few weeks later, he watched you just for the sake of it.

His father had spoken to him about the concept of love at first sight, quite a lot of times, but he never thought much of it. He was a knight, he had a duty and no space for anything else for anything but his family, even less for affections originated from things as superficial as someone’s appearance.

But then he saw you, and it was more than that.

And you started to greet him after weeks of sitting on the same spots of the library, as you thought it’d be polite to do so, getting surprised at the soft reddish tone that appeared on Silver’s cheeks when you spoke to him. You never believed he’d be such a shy person.

From then on, you still sat in the same seats, but would engage in conversation, from time to time, even if it wasn’t often, as you were occupied most of the time with the pile of books that always followed you, never becoming smaller. Silver, on the other hand, was also busy with his homework, which he could finish faster if he hadn’t started to daydream as he gazed at you.

“Hi, Silver, had you been doing well?”

“Yes, I have, thank you for asking.” He answered with his usual blunt voice. “I’ve seen you struggle with History of Magic, perhaps you’d need help with it.” He’d add nonchalantly.

“I’d appreciate it, thanks for the offer.” You’d answer with a soft smile.

Yet he remained silent, not being able to offer his help, as you quickly went to your seat after the brief greeting. You had a test for tomorrow and no time to lose. And he had a report to finish for Crewel’s class, one that would be finished already if it wasn’t for his gazing habits.

“Lilia told me you were good at physical training, is that right?” You asked one day, as you carried your books as usual.

“He's right. As a knight, it’s important to have great strength.”

“Would you mind helping with a certain exercise Vargas taught us? It’s far more complex than I thought and I’d like to know before the next class.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t mind helping if I can.”

“Thank you, Silver.”

From then on, and after he had helped you with the exercise, you’d speak more often. About school, about your friends, about his training. About the restaurant you’ve been wanting to go to for the past month. About how he was free the next Saturday. About you telling him that Grim would stay with Ace and Deuce for the weekend. About him saying he had errands to run that day. About you asking him if he’d like to stop by the restaurant to join you for lunch.

Then you started to hang out at Diasomnia more frequently, saying it was nice and quiet as long as Sebek wasn’t around. It was natural, Silver thought, as you were Malleus’ friend, Sebek’s classmate, and an avid fan of the Pop Music Club, of which Lilia was part. You had a lot of reasons to be there, he believed, and he didn’t think much of it when you stayed even if it was only him, without Malleus, Sebek or Lilia.

But one day you’d stayed late, none of you noticing the darkness outside, too concentrated for it. Silver was quite proud of himself, getting focused enough to read for long hours, only noticing how much time had passed as he felt a light weight on his shoulder. You had fallen asleep. 'How funny', he thought, he was usually the one doing that.

So, he put all your books in your backpack and picked you up to carry you towards Ramshackle.

When he went back to his dorm, he realized. Was there something different in the way he held you, as if he was carrying a rare treasure? Or in the fondness he felt when you thanked him half asleep for bringing you home? Or in Lilia’s teasing when he arrived at Diasomnia, as he claimed to have raised a Prince Charming who treated his beloved with kindness?

But he knew he was no Prince. He was a knight, with a duty. To Lord Malleus. To his father. To his family.

Yet, when you confessed that you saw differently, one day, in the middle of the library, he couldn’t bring himself to reject you, too enamoured by the affection of your gaze and the tenderness of your voice.

'A knight can also be capable of love', Lilia had told him when he confided his worries.

You were perfect for him, after all. He could imagine you accompanying him through his training. Staying for the night at Diasomnia. Getting close to all the people he adored deeply. Fighting with Sebek at late hours when he wouldn’t allow you to have a night snack. Backing away when Lilia offered to make it for you. Laughing with Malleus as Sebek and him would try to convince the vicehousewarden to stay away from the kitchen. Coming back with him to his room to sleep in each other’s arms.

Coming back to his homeland with you for the holidays. Sending you letters when he was away in his fourth year. You moving to Briar Valley after graduation. Malleus becoming king and making him one of his main knights. Coming back home at night to your smile, after long days.

But then he blinked, once, twice, thrice. He had been falling asleep more often, lately. His eyelids were too heavy for him to avoid it, he couldn’t blame himself for it. He turned away his gaze from the window, looking at the seat that was two tables away.

The seat was empty.

It had become unbearable, the loneliness of that place. You wouldn’t come back with him to Diasomnia, or to Briar Valley, or to a home that was both yours and his.

You wouldn’t come back at all.

He was a knight, he couldn’t leave himself failing once again, as he had already failed the duty he had to you.

Only leaving him dreaming of what could have been if you hadn’t put yourself in front of him when Malleus attacked him during his overblot. If he had protected you from the pain and the fear that he observed in your eyes as you faded away in his arms.

Now you only existed in his dreams, and it wasn’t enough for him.

⤿

⤿

[pickingupmymercedes]

Hiii I love your writing so much!! I was wondering if you can make a Lewis x reader where she has some type of chronic illness and one day she gets a really bad flare up and he takes care of her :)

If you’re not comfortable or don’t feel like writing it you can ignore this ask :)

Hi love, of course! I did a shortish one-shot

Btw, I chose eczema because my beautiful best friend has battled it a good chunk of her teen years and I'm so incredibly and forever proud of the amazing woman she's become, and how she continously lifts other people even when she doesn't have to . Love you H.

Warnings: description of eczema

______________________________________________________________

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky. In the serene twilight, Lewis Hamilton sat by the window, watching the Melbourne lights twinkle like distant stars. His thoughts drifted to the upcoming Japanese Grand Prix, the anticipation of this week off tingling in the air. But amidst the excitement, a sense of worry gnawed at him.

Beside him, you lay on the couch, curled up in discomfort. The gentle hum of the evening enveloped the room, but your soft whimpers cut through the tranquility. Lewis glanced at you, concern etched on his features.

"Are you okay, love?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

You managed a weak nod, but the pain etched on your face betrayed your words. Lewis sighed softly, his heart heavy with concern. He knew all too well the toll your chronic illness took on you, especially during flare-ups.

Your eczema, a constant companion in your life, often made its presence known at the most inconvenient times. Lewis had witnessed the struggles you faced; the silent battles fought behind closed doors. Yet, through it all and much to your comfort, he remained steadfast by your side.

That night, however, your flare-up seemed particularly severe. Lewis could see the discomfort etched in every line of your face. Gently, he knelt beside you, his touch feather-light as he brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead. "I'll take care of you, darling," he murmured softly, his voice a soothing melody in the dimly lit room.

Despite his assurances, you couldn't shake the feeling of shame that enveloped you. The raw, red patches on your legs, a stark reminder of your condition, made you feel vulnerable and exposed. The thought of facing the world, especially at the upcoming Grand Prix, filled you with dread.

Lewis sensed your inner turmoil – it was a place your mind tended to take you – his heart aching at the sight of your distress. With a tender smile, he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. "You don't have to hide, love," he whispered, his voice a gentle reassurance. "You're beautiful, just as you are."

Days passed, and the Japanese Grand Prix loomed ever closer. The excitement in the air was palpable, anticipation crackling like electricity. But amidst the flurry of preparations, you couldn't shake the lingering doubt if you should go at all. As the day of the race dawned, nerves fluttered in your stomach like a restless butterfly. The thought of facing the world, your eczema on full display, filled you with dread.

Regardless, you made your way to the track, the air alive with the roar of engines and the buzz of the crowd. Amidst the sea of faces, Lewis's support anchored you, a steady presence in the tumultuous sea of life.

The days following the Grand Prix went as usual. Another Mercedes bad weekend, the headlines filled with the dread of how they would bounce back, but amidst the bad press, a simple message on social media caught your eye, touching your heart in a profound way.

In a picture of you and Lewis, taken during the Grand Prix, was accompanied by a heartfelt caption.

"I've always been ashamed of my eczema, hiding it away from the world. But seeing [Your Name] embracing her skin and being open about her struggles gives me hope. Thank you for showing me that it's okay to be myself, flaws and all. 💖 #EczemaWarrior #TrueBeauty"

Tears welled in your eyes as you read the heartfelt words, the impact of your openness suddenly crashing you, the realization that your journey could inspire and empower others was almost overwhelming.

With a trembling hand, you liked the post and replied with a heartfelt message of your own. "Thank you for your beautiful words. You are strong and beautiful just as you are. Never be afraid to show it. 💖"

The outpouring of support and encouragement that followed was overwhelming, a testament to the power of authenticity and vulnerability. Messages from fans around the world flooded your notifications, each one echoing the hope you felt.

However, amidst the sea of positivity, a few photographers at the Grand Prix had been less than kind. Their whispered comments and mocking glances hadn't gone unnoticed, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

One evening, as you sat in Lewis’ lap in his home back in Monaco, he turned to you with a gentle expression, his eyes filled with concern.

You looked into his eyes, seeing the genuine care and love reflected in his gaze. Taking a deep breath, you squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"You don't have to talk about your eczema just because people are noticing it, you know. You owe them nothing" he said softly, his voice filled with compassion. "I just want you to be happy and comfortable."

"I want to do this, Lew" you said, your voice steady with conviction. "I was the kid embarrassed of it, hiding it away from the world. Other kids need to know they have no reason to be ashamed. If sharing my story can help even one person feel less alone, it's worth it."

Lewis's eyes softened, a proud smile gracing his lips as he nodded in understanding. "You’re so brave, babe.” he whispered, pulling you close. "I’m forever proud of you”.

[joshym]

Le Morte d'Arthur: Chapter 4

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: It all began with a passion for literature. What was once a dream to walk the halls of the University of Michigan is now a reality.

You thought you were prepared for everything.

A new town, a new school, a new way of life,

but what you were not prepared for…

was meeting the enigma that is Jake Kiszka.

Word Count: 32.3k+ (dear lord)

Warnings: (for this chapter) please proceed with caution if you find any of the following to be triggering. MDNI 18+ ONLY struggles with body dysmorphia/eating (including food restriction & calorie counting), strong feelings of inadequacy, heavy emotions/ talks of an absent parent, *extremely* sick & terminally-ill parent, a parent in the hospital, mentions of sexually explicit scene being shot on film, anxiety/stress/depression, jealousy

SMUT-18+ ONLY: fingering & oral (f receiving), nipple stimulation, heavy petting (m receiving), possessiveness, a lot of hickeys(lol), a little praise (please let me know if i’ve missed anything)

a/n: thank you all for being so patient with me. this story is personal to me for so many reasons, & parts of it have been a little hard to write. but, they’ve begged to be written. i hope you all love it. 🤍

also, huge thank you to @jakeyt for being the best editor & my right hand in helping create this. i seriously couldn't have done it without you. love you SO much. you're the best sister i could ever ask for.

Le Morte d'Arthur Masterlist, Series Playlist

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Christmas Eve: Cherry Tree, OK

The ground was buried under mounds of snow. A fluffy, warm blanket of the softest white, yet it froze your little fingers when you buried your hands into its inviting, bright allure. 

You were bundled so tightly in your winter ensemble that you could hardly move. Your arms were stiff as boards, impossible to lay at your sides. You begged your mom to not make you wear it outside, but she and your dad wouldn’t budge. 

“You’ll get sick.” They warned you. But you didn’t heed them. 

As soon as you were outside and safely out of their sight, you shed your pink puffer and matching mittens, throwing them in a deep bank covering the once vibrant flower beds on the side of your house and freeing yourself of their restrictions.

You’d spent what felt like hours outside in the below freezing temperatures. Intricately rounding out perfect snowballs, building the tallest snowman your six year old body could manage, creating the most heavenly snow angels. 

You hadn’t even noticed the sudden pain and tightness that had developed in your small chest, or the dry cough that accompanied it. You were too busy warding off evil snow monsters from your fort made of icey wonder.

Until you heard your first, middle and last name erupting from the opened back door. 

Your mom and dad were there, their faces as white as the snow your body plummeted towards when your small lungs became too tired to allow for another breath of air. 

You spent Christmas in the hospital that year. The whole week, actually. A collapsed lung due to pneumonia, you were told. It was the most painful thing you had yet to experience in your young life. 

But to this very day, you consider it the best Christmas you’ve ever celebrated.

Nurses and doctors showered you with all the toys your heart could ever long for. You opened gifts from your bed and enjoyed the most wonderfully terrible Christmas dinner the hospital cafeteria could offer. 

You ate more ice cream than what was truly necessary. But no one denied your incessant requests for the frozen treat.

You watched Oliver and Company countless times that week, a favorite of yours and your dads. He hated Disney movies, but he loved this one, only because of Billy Joel’s character and the classic song he featured in the film.

He loved Billy Joel. Loved him enough to sit through hours upon hours of the animated film with you. 

Neither him or your mom left your side that whole week. They didn’t even go home to sleep. They just stayed with you. 

There were no fights between your mom and dad that week. Not even one. It was the closest your little family had ever been, and would ever be again. The love you felt from your parents that week has yet to find a comparison.

Crazy as it sounds, you miss that week. You began missing it as soon as you were cleared to go home. 

Their bickering resumed almost as soon as they put you in your special, tiny wheelchair to take you to the car. Whatever magic that hospital held that forced your family to love each other in a way that was brand new to you, was lost altogether once you were wheeled out of the automatic glass doors. 

You knew, once they situated you in the back of your dads double cab, that you’d never see them love each other that way ever again. 

As the Winter thawed to a bright Spring that year, when the snow melted and ran away to the Deer in Water creek that your home stood proudly beside, so did your hopes of ever seeing your parents love you and each other the same as they had that Christmas. 

That was a time in your life when you viewed your mom and dad in the same light. A time when you didn’t hate your dad, a time when he made you believe a man could love you.

When it wasn’t just your dad that caused problems, and it wasn’t just your mom that showed you love. They both did those things.

It’s strange to think back on it all now, to think about how he’s the one that left, and she’s the one dying. (Or already dead.)

You can’t bring yourself to understand why, but that Christmas you spent in the hospital all those years ago is all that's playing in your mind as Jake is speeding to the hospital. 

He’s asked you a few times how you’re holding up, but you can’t begin to try and answer him. 

You’re unable to communicate more than a quiet nod of your head as you're staring through the tinted passengers window. 

There aren’t any tears. No lump in your throat. 

You want to cry, but you can’t. 

Your mind pleads with you to acknowledge the emotions swirling about, desperate to manifest outwardly. But despite the inner turmoil, your body refuses to show it.

You just can’t.

Everything feels numb. 

You’re not even sure if you’re breathing properly.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You hadn’t even realized how tightly you’d been clutching the necklace your dad gifted you  all those years  ago. It’s somehow serving as a comfort for you as you’re being driven to the hospital, even after everything he’s put you through. You find yourself running your thumb over the engraved initial, just  as you always had before he left.

As much as you’ve grown to hate him over the last year, you can’t help but wish he were here. Not being able to rely on anyone right now is…it’s fucking terrible.

Well, aside from Jake. 

He’s the last person you’d expect to be leaning on.

But it was purely an accident. Him driving you to the hospital is just a happenstance. He wouldn’t have if your stupid car hadn’t broken down (thanks, dad) and if it weren’t for that, you wouldn’t have had to get a ride from Jake in the first place.

But, you’re grateful to him right now. Grateful that he stuck around at your apartment long enough to know he needed to take you to her. 

If it weren’t for him, you’d still be stuck there desperately searching for someone to take you.

Finally, the brakes come to a screeching halt at the emergency room entrance. You absently thank him as you practically jump out of the car. 

You don’t look back, but you hear the thrumming motor of his range rover become more distant as he drives away.

You can’t bring yourself to care at this point as you’re sprinting to the front desk in search of where they’ve taken your mom. 

The young, redheaded man behind the counter with bright green eyes shielded by thick eyeglass frames looks rather shocked at your frenzied state. He’s watching you with his mouth agape, hands frozen on the keyboard of his desktop as he prepares for your inevitable arrival.

“I–I need to f– find my mom. She was just broug–” You take a second to catch your breath, still clutching your necklace for some sort of grounding. “...she was brought here by ambulance and I—” He stops you with a hand held high, asking you to slow down because he can’t comprehend your rushed words.

You can hardly even understand yourself, your voice breathy and stuttering as you’re gasping for air. But there’s no time to wait to catch it in your heaving lungs. 

“I need my mom and you need to tell me where the hell they’ve taken her. Her name is–”

“Miss,” he interupts, standing up as if to intimidate you with his much taller stature in comparison to yours. “If you can’t calm down I’ll have to ask you to leave.” His voice (that he’s clearly manipulated to sound much more threatening) echoes throughout the entire lobby as he’s looking at you as if you’re the crazy one.

This man has started copping an attitude with you that you’re in no place to put up with. You’ve backed down to people you’re entire fucking life, but right now isn’t the goddamn time.

You’ve decided to challenge him. If he wants to be loud, you can be loud right back.

Your fist pounds the counter with a force that causes everyone in the lobby of the emergency room to gasp and silence their voices. The metal container holding pens is jolted over the edge, the clipboard holding the blank paperwork for patients to fill out tumbles to the floor from the sheer amount of power behind your hand. 

There’s a stinging pain running rapidly up your arm, all the way to your shoulder, ringing through your teeth and  vibrating in your skull. 

You don’t even so much as wince from the pain.

A potential broken hand is the very least of your troubles right now.  

“She may be dying,” you scream, your first still held firm atop the white marble. “And if you don’t tell me where the fuck she is, you may have ruined the last time I’ll ever see her.”

The tears you’ve held in thus far begin flooding your face, falling like a heavy rain shower on the granite where your sore hand lies. 

Before the receptionist can start the process of having you escorted out, a tall woman dressed in a light blue set of scrubs stops him before he can make a single move. 

“Tell me her name, sweetie.” Her voice is quiet and her demeanor is calm, her wavy brown locks tied in a sleek ponytail at the bottom of her neck reminds you so much of the way your mom used to wear her hair before she got sick. 

You tell her your moms name through a shaky voice, attempting to make yourself sound more composed so you don’t get yourself kicked out of here. 

She gently moves the receptionist aside (Eric, according to the name badge clipped to the pocket of his shirt) and begins clicking the mouse around, scrunching her eyebrows in focus. 

“Here she is,” she confirms, the printer behind her humming with the physical version of what she can see on the screen. “She doesn’t have a room just yet, hun.” 

You feel defeated and useless. You’re her primary caregiver, and you can’t do your job from behind this stiff counter— not knowing where she is, how she is, what happened. So many unknowns, so much that’s completely out of your control.

You suddenly feel the intense pain radiating from your fist and you instinctively pull it close to you, clutching it tightly against your chest in hopes that pressure will alleviate just how bad it hurts.

“I’ll let you know when she gets a room. Until then, you’re welcome to wait in the lobby.” The tall nurse tells you. 

You nod your head in agreement, knowing there’s nothing you can say or do to make them move quicker. Still clutching your fist, you slowly walk away towards the stained lobby chairs and plant yourself in the one that’s closest to the counter.

You pull your phone out of your jacket pocket in search of something to distract you, but you're mortified to be met with the dead battery symbol upon trying to unlock it.

Great. Nothing to divert you from your thoughts (or the searing pain) for god knows how long. You feel the tears start to well in your sleepy eyes again, and you just decide to let them fucking fall. There’s no sense in trying to keep them in, you need to feel right now so you don’t explode again with your pent up aggression. 

Crying feels like the safest thing to do right now, and the best way to relieve some of the mental (and physical) pain. 

You let your chin fall down towards your chest, watching as the tears land on your sheer tights. You can’t help but giggle a little at how much thought you put into this outfit, only for the night to end like this. You had no way of knowing. No signs that she was doing so poorly on the night you decided to fucking leave her.

But before you have the chance to become too deep in your pity party, you hear the unmistakable sound of shuffling feet walking in your direction. You don’t bother looking up; you figure if you ignore whoever it is, they’ll also ignore you, which is exactly what you want right now. 

But ignoring them isn’t quite doing the trick. You see a pair of black sweats out of your peripheral standing near you, and as you lift your eyes a little more, you see a hand offering you a tissue. 

When you shift your watering eyes up a bit more, you realize it’s Jake.

“Wha-what are you still doing here?” You ask, the crying making your voice meak and raspy. You clear your throat as you thank him and accept his small (but rather meaningful) token. A sweet gesture that you can’t ignore. 

“I just wanted to make sure you found her okay,” he says while settling down in the seat on your left. “And I couldn’t leave knowing you don’t have a way home tonight. This hospital won’t let people stay overnight anymore since the pandemic. Didn’t want to leave you stranded.”

You hadn’t even thought of any of that. Aside from getting to your mom, you had no plan of action. Anything to come after that just hadn’t crossed your mind yet. You're glad someone thought of all those things, because your mind clearly isn’t capable of considering much at the moment. 

“Well, thank you. But I can just call Nat so you don’t have to stay with me.” Your voice sounds a little colder than you’d like it to. But with the way your emotions are surfacing, it can’t be helped right now. 

“Your phone’s dead,” he challenges, pointing to the quiet device sitting in your lap . “So, I’m staying.” 

You snap your head towards him, wide eyes and scrunched brows in question. “How do you know that?” 

“Been trying to call you for the last twenty minutes,” he explains, taking his phone out of his pocket and scrolling through his call log to prove it to you. “It was going straight to voicemail. I knew there was a chance you could’ve been ignoring me, but I had a feeling your battery had just died.”

You can’t deny the grin that’s threatening to consume your tired features. You’re flattered, to say the least. While you didn’t fully expect him to stay to be sure you were okay, you’re not entirely surprised. (It crossed your mind briefly that he could just let you use his phone to call Nat, be he hasn’t offered. And you’re not going to ask. You kind of like that he’s here.)

“She doesn’t have a room yet. They told me they’d let me know when she does.” You adjust yourself in the stiff, plastic chair to face him while he nods his head.

His eyes are heavier than usual. His drooping lids tell you he’s just as tired. Though he’s probably had a much happier evening than you have had. 

Before you let your mind wander too deeply into the fact that he most likely slept with Stacy tonight, you search for anything to talk about with him.

“So, that spookhouse tonight was–” you begin, but he interrupts your thought before you can continue. 

“Shitty.” He states, putting his phone back in the pocket of his hoodie and letting both hands rest inside the fabric.  “Shitty and not scary in the least.” 

“Yeah.” You huff through a chuckle, grateful for the tiny smile it forced out of you. “Stacy was pretty scared, though.”

The look Jake gives you is one you can’t quite place. He looks…uncomfortable? 

You half expected him to giggle along with you, but he didn’t. Not even close. His eyes shift away from you, gazing across the waiting room. 

Fuck. Why did you have to bring her up?

You pull your eyes away from him as you awkwardly set your sights back on your lap. You’re not sure how, but it’s clear you’ve struck some kind of nerve with him.

It’s probably for the best that you keep your mouth shut. And that’s exactly what you do for the next several minutes. 

Without as much as a single word uttered between the two of you, you’re suddenly longing for the moments prior to his arrival in the lobby. The ones you spent pathetically crying in defeat and helplessness. Alone.

But just as it seems that all hope of having a normal conversation with him is lost, he breaks the silence. 

“Is that what they’re called, where you’re from?” 

As you lift your head, you’re met with his drowsy eyes once again set on you, his right eyebrow cocked slightly as he awaits your response. 

“Is what called…?” you absently ask. Your mind became so filled with the painful lull in conversation that you’d all but forgotten what you were talking about before you mentioned her name. 

“The haunted house,” he says. “You called it a spook house. I was just wondering if that’s because you’re not from here.”

It’s funny, because you hadn’t even noticed that you called it that. Didn’t even think twice about it. 

The memory of Sam pointing out the very same thing pops in your mind. You’re then reminded of how you left him tonight. The guilt is weighing horribly on you, but, sadly, it’s a welcome distraction against the worry (and far greater guilt) you’re feeling  for your mom. 

“Oh, yeah.” You fix your posture a bit, facing him once again as he clearly wants to keep some sort of conversation going. “That’s what we call them back home. It’s so funny how we have different names for things just based on what part of the country we’re from.” 

“It’s pretty interesting,” he mutters, a tiny grin peaking through his sleepy exterior.

You just hum in response, not really sure what to say next. The silence was awkward, but this sad attempt at a casual exchange is almost worse. 

You look over to the counter to see if the nurse who helped calm you down is standing there, but all you’re met with is Eric’s creeping eyes on you from behind the marble that may have broken your hand. 

Your hand suddenly begins to ache once more at the thought, and you instinctively bring it up to your chest again to dull the pain. 

“Is your hand okay?” Jake asks, taking note of your wincing expression after moving your sore extremity. 

You’re not sure you want to tell him about your little meltdown from earlier, so you come up with a quick excuse that sounds slightly better than the full truth.

“I knocked it against the counter when I got here, just by accident.” It’s not a complete lie. The accident addition is a bit of a stretch, but it kind of was an accident that your fist met the granite in a fit of rage. (However justified it may be, it’s still a tad embarrassing.) 

He leans closer to you, attempting to look at your hand that you’re still holding against your chest. With a tender touch, he attempts to pry it away from you. You’re so stunned by this that out of instinct, you hold it even tighter.

“Let me see,” he softly demands. 

After some hesitation on your part, (why does he care so much?) you pull it away from your chest, holding it out in front of you and Jake to get a clearer look.

The outer blade of your palm is swollen and already beginning to bruise. It hurts like hell. (And you’re wondering where on earth that physical strength came from.) 

Jake runs his index finger so gently over the inflammation. Amidst everything happening, your body can’t deny the fire that’s blooming under your skin from his feather light touch. 

Your tired eyes flit up to his face, his features wearing stark concern. When his eyes meet yours, you can’t look away. And he doesn’t, either, his finger still tracing a light pattern around the impact point on your fist. 

…and then he stops. He looks away and jumps up out of his seat without as much as a single word. 

He rounds the corner of the hallway and is out of your sight within seconds. Gone. Leaving you sitting here alone and feeling like you’ve suddenly done something wrong. 

Before you have the chance to worry about that for much longer, you notice the tall nurse out of your peripheral walking in your direction.

Your mom.

You stand up to meet the nurse halfway, ready to finally be taken back to see your mom. 

“Hold on,” she says, stopping you before you take a step. “You can’t go back right now, hun.”

Why won’t they let you go back? What don’t they want you to see?

Is it because she’s dead?

The nurse grabs your arm to keep you stable, your legs almost giving out as your body feels a thousand pounds heavier. The blood from your head rushes down through your chest. The dizzying feeling present throughout your weakened limbs.  

Your legs threaten to give out as your body feels a thousand pounds heavier. The blood from your head rushes  down  through your chest. The dizzy feeling present throughout your weakened limbs.

Your body begins swaying back and forth, threatening to collapse from shock, exhaustion…

She grabs your arm to help stabilize you.

“Hey, hey.” She puts her other hand on your shoulder to hold you still. “Everything’s okay. Just sit down for me, sweetheart.” 

She leads you back down to the chair, helping you lower yourself to sit back down. 

“I need you to know that she’s fine, sweetie. She’s asleep, but she’s stable.” 

The tension leaves your body instantly, like a two ton weight has been lifted off your tight chest. 

She’s alive. 

“Can I go back? Can I see her?” You’re nearly begging. 

“Not right now, honey. I tried to bend the visiting hour rules for you, but the big wigs won’t budge. I just wanted you to know that she’s okay, but she’ll need to stay overnight for some extra testing.”

“Everything okay?” Jake sits back down next to you, taking your hand and gently placing ice wrapped in a paper towel on your swollen fist. The cold nearly shocks your system, but it feels so good against the pain.

That’s where he went. He cared enough to get you ice for your ridiculously obtained injury. 

You turn your head to face him, his sweet eyes locked with yours while he holds the ice steady on your hand. 

This isn’t the Jake you’ve grown accustomed to over the months of knowing him. But this is the Jake you’ve wanted.

“She’s okay,” you say, looking down the makeshift pack of ice he brought you. “She’ll just have to stay overnight.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he responds, dabbing the frozen compress delicately across the bruise.  

“We’re still not certain what happened to her. She fainted; that’s all we know for sure. We’ll run some tests to get to the root of it.” The nurse draws your attention from Jake back to your mom. You distractedly nod, your mind still consumed with Jake holding your hand the way he is. “You’re welcome to come back first thing in the morning, okay? We’ll take good care of her tonight.” 

A small breath of relief washes over you. At least she’s alive. And she’s stable. But fuck…you just wish you could be back there with her. The immense guilt of not being there when it happened is eating away at you. You want to apologize to her, tell her you’ll never fucking leave her again. But, that’ll have to wait until tomorrow. You’ll just be stuck sitting in your guilt until then. 

The nurse begins wishing you a good night, but before she leaves, she glances at your hand that Jake is still holding in his grip. 

“Is your hand okay, sweetie? Do you need someone to take a look at it?” She asks you, concerned. 

“I think I’m okay,” you tell her, looking to Jake who probably has a better idea about your condition than you do. It’s the least of your worries at the moment, you just don’t really care about it in comparison to everything else. This feels insignificant, you feel insignificant. It just doesn’t matter. 

Jake nods, looking at you and then averting his gaze to the nurse. “A little swollen and beginning to bruise, but it’s not broken.” He lifts the ice to inspect it a little further, running his finger over the swelling. “It’s already gone down some. I suppose just keeping ice on it will do the trick.”

You give him a look that says a silent ‘thank you’ for taking care of this for you. If he wasn’t here, you wouldn’t think twice about it.

The nurse smiles in response, then looks to you again. “I’d say you’re in good hands, then. Better not let that one get away.” 

She once again bids you a good night, reminding you that you can come back first thing in the morning. 

Neither one of you seems to react to what she just said. Not aloud, at least. You both just ignore it as you walk through the automatic doors. 

“I’ll go get the car,” Jake tells you, fishing his keys out of the pocket of his hoodie. “Had to park kind of far away. Be right back.” 

As you watch him walk away, you can’t stop replaying what the nurse said over and over in your mind.

“Better not let that one get away.”

If only she knew.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The ice is melting all over you and Jake’s floorboard. You’re desperately trying to catch every drop in your lap, but it’s proving difficult. You were freezing when you first got into the car, so Jake cranked the heat all the way up for you, but it’s causing you to make a huge mess. 

“I’m so sorry, Jake,” you utter, fighting back a few tears brimming your eyes. It’s not the dripping water that’s threatening to make you cry, it’s the fact that you feel like such a burden. And here you are, being even more of one by dripping water all over his nice car. 

“What are you sorry for?” He asks, peering over to you. You sniff the tears away, not wanting him to see you crying over something so fucking ridiculous. 

“The ice,” you answer through a cracking voice. “It’s melting all over.”

His brows crinkle, looking over at you to assess the situation. His eyes lock on your soaking wet lap for a spell, taking a deep breath before his eyes are back on the road.

“It’s just water, y/n. I’m not worried about it.” He takes the final left turn onto your street that’s now much more quiet than it was the last time he turned here. He pulls into the parking lot, parking in what would normally be your spot if your car wasn’t sitting worthlessly at his place. 

He keeps the car on drive, just letting his foot rest on the brake as he unlocks the door for you. 

“Just keep ice on it intermittently throughout the night,” he reminds you. “The swelling should be mostly gone by the morning.” 

Staring at the darkened apartment building, you slowly nod your head as you’re suddenly hesitant to leave his car for some reason. Your seatbelt is still buckled, your body feeling almost too numb to even manage that.

The thought of going into the empty apartment isn’t by any means a pleasant one. You hadn’t even thought of the fact that you’ll be all alone tonight. No one to take care of besides yourself. (And that’s not something you're well versed in.)

You’ve gotten so used taking care of her since it’s just been the two of you. Being in the apartment without her just feels…wrong. On every level. And being alone in your guilt feels even worse. 

At this moment, you’re not sure you can do it. But you haven’t a choice. 

“Y/n?” Jake’s calm voice pulls you back to reality, to the fact that you’re still sitting in his car, quietly contemplating. He’s probably ready to get you out of here so he can go home. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you lie, not wanting to delve into the turning wheels of your brain. 

Then, he puts the car in park, leaning back in his seat as he looks at you with inquisitive eyes. “Are you sure?” He questions. “Because you’ve hardly said a word since we left the hospital, and you’re not exactly in any hurry to get inside.”

Embarrassed, you force yourself to remove your seatbelt. “I’m fine, just a little tired is all. Thank you for taking me tonight, I really appreciate it.” You begin opening the door to let him leave, gathering the mental strength to prepare yourself to walk into an eerie, empty apartment.

“You know, it’s pretty late,” he says as you're one foot out of the door. “And it’s a long drive back to my place. I could stay here, sleep on the couch. That way you’d have someone to take you tomorrow morning.” 

It’s almost like he could hear the thoughts in your head. He knows, somehow, that you can’t handle being alone tonight. Like there’s something within him that understands. 

“Jake I–I can’t ask you to—” 

But before you can finish, he shuts off the ignition.

“You’re not asking if I’m offering,” he protests. And he’s right. You didn’t ask, but you still feel bad. Because you would love to have him stay. “It’s actually easier for me if I do. Saves on gas.” 

Instantly, the thought of having his company makes you feel worlds better. Even if he’ll just be on the couch. Just knowing he’s there will make things a little more bearable for you.

“Are you sure?” You ask, timidly. 

“If you don’t feel comfortable with it, I can just—” he starts.

“No, no. I’d love it if you did. Thank you, seriously.” 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You’ve been lying wide awake in your bed for what’s felt like hours. Flipping and tossing about in search of a comfortable spot that you just can‘t seem to find. 

It’s not really the bed that’s the problem. It’s your unabating mind that won’t turn off its wandering thoughts. You’ve tried scrolling on your phone, using every app you can think of to distract you. But the thoughts are domineering your every attempt to silence them. 

Did they give her the right medications? Are they keeping her oxygen on her? Is someone staying with her all night to make sure she doesn’t stop breathing? Who called 911? 

Or, the worst one…the loudest one.

Is she dead and they just haven’t called me yet?

You’re so accustomed to her being here, hearing the humming of her oxygen machine, being able to check on her to be sure she’s okay. At least when she’s here, you know. With her gone, it leaves the floor open for your mind to wander to every terrible scenario that you can’t do anything about. You just don’t know what’s going on. And the unknowing is the worst part.

Your grumbling tummy is just about as loud as your mind, reminding you that you’ve not eaten anything in almost twenty four hours. 

There’s nothing else to do, so you pull yourself out of your unwelcoming bed t o go find a midnight (actually, closer to two in the morning) snack. 

Eating is a little terrifying to you right now, but you figure some popcorn won’t do much harm. 

You slowly open the creaking door of your room, holding your breath as it seems to be louder than normal in the dead quiet apartment. The last thing you want to do is wake Jake up, so it’s vital that you’re as silent as possible as you make the journey to the kitchen.

You tiptoe as gracefully as your tired body will allow across the living room, avoiding coming too close to the couch where Jake sleeps as you walk as far away from him as you can, not even looking in his direction.

A sigh of relief passes your lips as you reach the kitchen successfully.

You know that there’s one more bag of Pop Secret sitting on the second shelf of the cabinet right next to the microwave. Relying only on the soft light above the stove, you shuffle through the various items in search of it until you at last feel the familiar plastic cover. 

Instantly upon finding it, you start looking for the nutrition facts to know just how much you’re putting in your body. An old trait of yours that you’ve not done in years, yet suddenly, as if it’s purely muscle memory you flip the bag over to the side to note the amount of calories you’ll be taking. 

I’m not reverting back. I’m just curious about what popcorn is made of, that’s all, you try telling yourself. (Although, you know yourself in situations like these. When you’re stressed, you seek comfort in old habits. One old habit of choice just happens to be food restriction and calorie counting.)

It won‘t last long. I won’t let it. I just need something familiar.

130 calories, 6 g fat, 14 g carbs, 2 g protein per 4 cups is printed on the back in dark blue ink.

Could be worse. And there’s nothing saying you have to eat the whole thing. Maybe you can split the bag in half, that way you’re only getting half the fat and carbs. That’ll still be enough to quiet your empty tummy. 

You toss the bag in the microwave and set the timer to three minutes, pressing start and cringing at the loud humming from the appliance. You’ve also forgotten just how noisy preparing this little snack can be. 

Each pop of the buttered kernels echoes throughout the open kitchen and you’re praying to every star that this won’t wake him up. 

With two seconds left on the timer, you quickly open the door to avoid the unpleasant ding that’s sure to wake him up if you didn’t catch it in time.

You pour the contents of  the bag into your favorite blue bowl, designated long ago as the official “popcorn bowl.” You can’t go without a little extra salt, so you dump a good amount over top and sift it around so it’s all coated. 

You’ve realized that you instinctively poured the entire bag, even though you decided to only eat half. You’re not happy about the extra temptation, but you’re mentally telling yourself that there’s no need to eat this whole bowl. 

Shutting the door to the microwave as quietly as you can, you begin to tip toe back to your room to safety.

Only now, you’re met with a slightly horrifying discovery.

He’s laying on his back, sans hoodie that's draped over the arm of the couch and the blanket you gave him sitting just below chest. (God he looks good.) The light from his phone illuminates his face as he’s holding it sideways, seemingly watching a video of some kind. But his drowsy eyes flick to you as you begin the walk back to your room.

As you awkwardly stand in the middle of the room, blue popcorn bowl in hand, he pulls out an earbud and sets his phone down. “Trouble sleeping?” His groggy voice asks. 

“Yeah,” you answer, a little embarrassed that he’s caught you in such a state. “I just can’t seem to relax…but what are you still doing awake? I hope I wasn’t being too loud.”

“I’m a bit of an insomniac, I suppose,” he answers. “Popcorn, huh?” 

He swings his legs over the side and sits himself up on the end of the couch, a silent request to have you come sit next to him. You take the hint. The company would do you a little good right now, anyway. 

“Is it okay if I sit here?” You still can’t help yourself from asking if it’s okay, given your less than welcomed history with him. 

“Under one condition,” he remarks, full smirk across his lips. 

You stop before you take a seat, slightly terrified of what his ‘condition’ could possibly be.

“And what is that?” you timidly ask. 

He flashes you a warm grin that looks all the more inviting under the very dimly lit living room, chuckling lazily under his breath. 

“You have to share your snack.” 

You nervously laugh as you situate yourself on the opposite side of the couch, taking a few pieces of your snack of choice and passing the bowl over towards his direction. 

You catch a glimpse of his phone that’s still unlocked and sitting upright, paused on what looks like some professional chef working away on some fancy meal.

Perfect opportunity for an ice breaker. 

“You like cooking?” you ask while tossing a piece of popcorn in your mouth. (You’re really hoping you just got a bad piece, because it tastes burnt to hell and way too salty.)

“I dabble here and there,” he answers through loud crunches.

“I’m the one who needs to watch those videos,” you say, wincing at the second piece you’ve now eaten that tastes just as bad as the last one. “I’m probably the worst cook I know.” 

“I’d say so,” he acknowledges through a soft giggle, wincing as he tries more of your snack. “You’ve burnt the shit out of this popcorn and you didn’t need to add so much salt.” 

Of course, he noticed. 

You’re thankful for the mostly dark room as you can feel the blood rushing to your face over ruining something as simple as popcorn. 

But, it’s making him laugh. And you’ve come to really appreciate the moments that you do get to hear him laugh, because it isn’t often. Even though it’s at your own expense, you’ll take it. 

It’s surely been a great way to combat any awkward silence between the two of you. 

You chuckle to yourself as you set the popcorn bowl on the couch, centering it so you and Jake can both grab some as you please. 

“So,” he begins as he brings his feet up to rest on the coffee table in front of you. “I know you’re from somewhere where haunted houses are called spook houses. Where might that be? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oklahoma,” you answer, a little embarrassed. You’ve learned that your home state isn’t much of a popular one amongst people. Although you do understand why, you can’t help but find yourself missing it every now and again. It has its charm, however hard it may be to find. You know it’s there. Parts of it still remain lovingly in your heart. “A very, very small town in Oklahoma called Cherry Tree.”k,

With a soft nod of his head, his hair falls around his face and even in the dark, you can see how shiny it is. You can even see the soft smile over his lips. “I hear it in your voice,” he softly says. You look to him with question, silently asking him to elaborate. With a snicker, he continues. “Your little southern drawl. It’s not very strong, but it definitely stands out around here. A far cry from a Michigan accent.” 

Your whole life, you’d tried to mask your naturally derived, southern accent. You hated it. And you hated when people told you that you had one. It just made you want to unlearn it even more. 

Especially when you knew you would move to Michigan. The last thing you wanted was to stand out as if you’re not from here. 

Clearly, your efforts were useless. And as much as you’ve cringed when people have brought up the way you talk in the past, there’s something about hearing Jake point it out that actually makes you a little fond of it. 

Maybe it truly isn’t something to feel any shame over. It makes you unique, sets you apart, and perhaps that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Time feels mute, like it doesn’t exist in this realm you and Jake are together in. 

The early dawn is creeping through the window blinds, and when you glance at your phone, you come to realize that you’ve been talking with him for nearly three hours, and that’s shocking  to you—it’s shocking because it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long. 

The conversations have been flowing so naturally, so authentically. He’s easy to talk to. So easy. You would've never guessed how seamless keeping a conversation going with him could be. 

And, to your astonishment, he’s done most of the talking. You’re witnessing a brand new side of him, one that you could’ve sworn wasn’t there. It seems as though he’s finally comfortable with you. Which is a really good thing, considering he’s spending the night in your place. 

He’s been the best distraction for you amidst everything. If he weren’t here, you’d be lying in your bed, probably crying your eyes out and dealing with the anxiety all alone. 

He’s the very last person you’d suspect would be here for you in a time like this. But, fuck, if you aren’t so happy that it is him.

And as time has gone on, you’ve both moved closer and closer to each other. His legs are spread out on the expanse of his cushion and yours, while your legs are slowly coming to rest on top of his, your body facing him. 

Every so often, his hand will find your calf as if he’s done it a thousand times before. An innate gesture that he hardly seems to notice he’s doing.

But you certainly notice, every single time it happens. Each brush of his hand against your skin causes your heart to flutter. It’s innocent, of course. But it’s the fact that he’s finally revealing himself to you, that he’s trusting you. 

It feels good. It feels really good. 

You’re listening intently as he’s telling you more about the music that has shaped his life up until now. You’ve never noticed all of his little mannerisms, like the way he brushes the tip of his nose after he laughs, or how his hands struggle to stay still when he talks. 

And his eyes, the way they beautifully catch the early light. Their color like a glass of honeyed whiskey over ice, glowing against the rays of the young sun. 

“...and that’s when I discovered the versatility of the SG. My dad searched the entire midwest until he finally found one for me.” The palm of his hand comes to rest on your leg again, only this time, it’s a little higher. His fingertips dare to brush the inside of your upper thigh, his thumb tracing delicate circles across your now trembling skin. The fire within you is growing, felt from the pit of your stomach to your swimming head. “That guitar taught me how to challenge myself. My dad encouraged me every day to keep playing and I’ll never be able to thank–” 

Something changes in his eyes, his expression faltering as he falls silent. There’s a sudden difference in him, one you can’t quite grasp.

And then he looks down at his hand still placed upon you, and with a thousand silent words, he removes it. Quickly. Like he didn’t realize it was there in the first place. Or, worse; like he was suddenly repulsed by the fact that he was touching you. 

The room changes abruptly, the air feels heavier, denser. You notice he avoids meeting your gaze, his thought left unfinished.

What have I done wrong?

“Jake?” 

He moves so he’s now sitting upright, as close to the other end of the couch as he can be. Furthest away from you.

“I should…I should probably get some sleep,” he says, the words sounding ever unsure. “And you should, too. We’ve only got…” He takes his phone to look at the time, breathing deeply from his lungs when he sees that it’s nearly six in the morning. “Jesus.” He runs a hand over his face in…frustration? Exhaustion? You can’t be sure. “We’ve only got about two hours until they allow visitors, and I’ve got to go to work right after.” 

You take the hint that he wants you away from him. 

But for what reason? Well, you’ll be left to wonder that for the next few hours, alone. 

You don’t say anything as you stand up, only nodding your head and shielding your face the best you can.

You don’t want him to see the new tears that have begun to surface. 

“Sorry,” is all you can muster as you open the door to your room. He doesn't respond, only pure silence comes from the living room. 

Whatever you did, it was enough to force him to realize he doesn't want to be close to you, emotionally or physically.

It was going so well. But, you ruined it. Just like you ruin everything else in your life. 

You’ve no doubt that you won’t be getting any sleep for the next few hours. Your thoughts are too loud, screaming everything you’ve ever done wrong in your ear. 

And you can’t get the look in his eyes out of your head, how they appeared uncomfortable being in your presence. How he suddenly decided he didn’t want to be around you. 

But, then again, you can’t blame him. Because who in their right mind would want to be around you?

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

The alarm on your phone is blaring. You’ve been  counting down the minutes until it was set to go off, laying in complete silence and watching nothing but the clock. Every second felt like twenty minutes in your brain.

When you walk out into the living room, you’re met with an empty space. No Jake. 

Did he leave…? 

The couch is back to normal, the blankets you gave him folded and sitting on the cushion under the pillow you let him use. (Your favorite pillow, but you’ll never tell him that you sacrificed it for him.)

Great. He’s gone. 

And you have no way of getting to the hospital without him. 

Natalia.

You’ll call her, see if she can take you. 

Which you shouldn’t have to do. He said he would take you, and he just fucking left. 

It’s safe to assume that whatever relationship you were building with him last night, has all but left the apartment with him. 

Deciding it’s not worth your time at this point, you grab your phone, unlocking it and tapping on Nat’s contact to call her. 

It’s ringing. And ringing. And ringing. 

Fuck. If she doesn’t answer, you don’t know what you’ll–

“What are you calling me so early on a Saturday for?” She finally answers, her raspy voice a clear indication that she’s just woken up.

“I need your help, Nat. Can you come get me and take me to the hospital?” 

You hear her gasp on the other end of the phone. 

“What? Are you okay? What’s going on?” she asks, her questions coming in quick succession. 

“To make a long story short, my car broke down at the Kiszka’s last night, so Jake had to bring me home. There was an ambulance when we got here, and it were here for my mom. They took her to the hospital, but I had to come separately. So, since I didn’t have my car, Jake took me. I couldn’t stay the night with her and when he brought me back home, he stayed the night to be here in the morning to take me back to her, but he left a while ago and I was hoping you could come get me.”

Even you can’t believe the words out of your mouth. A convoluted mess that you hope she’s comprehending at such an early hour. 

“Holy shit, y/n. Yeah, of course. Is your mom okay?” she questions after a brief moment of silence, probably in an attempt to understand the shit show you’re currently dealing with. “And where the hell did Jake go?”

“Wish I knew,” you say with a cynical tone. “And I don’t really know. They told me she was stable last night but they still needed to keep her. Since I was gone, I have next to no idea of what happened.”

Just as she begins to respond to you, you feel your phone vibrate against your cheek. 

“One sec, Nat. I think I just got a text.”

Jake: I’m outside in the car. Ready whenever you are.

“What the fuck, Jake,” you mutter softly, but loud enough that Nat heard you on the other end of the phone call you’re still on. He couldn’t have communicated this to you? 

No. Instead, he just made you believe he left. 

Either way, you’re glad he’s still here. He’s not that cold towards you. (Although you’re not exactly shocked at the fact that you didn’t question it when you thought he left.)

“What did he do?” You hear her say at a low volume. 

Bringing the phone back up to your ear, you say, “He’s still here, apparently. Just in the car waiting for me. I’ve got to go, I’ll keep you updated.”

With that, you hang up the phone and quickly begin to get ready. 

You take the first pair of leggings you see sitting in your dresser, then decide to throw on your vintage, oversized Billy Joel sweatshirt that you'd completely forgoton you owned. 

The state of your hair is one that you can’t do much with at the moment, you figure a messy claw-clip bun will have to suffice. You put a little moisturizer on your face, grab your belt bag and keys, and run out the door. As much as Jake has upset you in the last few hours, you still don’t want to keep him waiting any longer than he already has. 

He’s sitting in his car, just like he said. Wearing the infamous John Lennon frames that remind you of when you first encountered him. You had no idea at that moment, when he brushed up against you in the hall, when he tried to make you look like an idiot in class, that you’d be here with him. And if you’re honest, given the way he reacted to your closeness last night, you’re not sure this is much better. 

It’s like he wants to be closer to you, but when the time actually comes, he realizes it’s you he’s getting closer to, and backs off. And that effectively makes you feel about a hundred times worse than you did a few months ago. 

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were out here already,” you tell him as you open the passenger door and take a seat. 

“No problem.” He waits until you’re buckled and settled before he starts backing out of the spot, his right hand grabbing the head rest of your seat while he turns his body to have a better view of the back window. 

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The drive has been quiet, (shocker) save for his music. Something you can’t deny him is his impeccable taste, his taste that is so similar to yours. 

He must’ve taken notice of your Billy Joel sweatshirt, because, ironically, Vienna begins playing over the speakers. One of your favorites. And one that, without fail, makes you cry every single time. He probably queued it up because of your shirt, but little does he know of the deep, deep history you have with this song. 

He doesn’t know that your dad used to play this song while you were getting ready for school in the mornings, how he told you one time that he wanted to name you the title of this track, but your mom wouldn’t agree to it. But, that didn’t stop him from associating the tune with you. 

He called you his little Vienna for a good chunk of your childhood, up until you got to high school and asked him to stop out of embarrassment. You didn’t want everyone privy to your dads nickname for you. Just a normal, teenage thing. 

Then you remember…This was your dad’s sweatshirt that he gave to you a long, long time ago when he left for a work trip. You were devastated that he was going to be gone. He gave it to you for comfort, to keep a piece of him with you while he was away. 

And you chose to wear it today, of all days. When you need the extra comfort. When you know, deep down, that you need him. Your subconscious knew it. That’s why you gravitated towards this shirt without even realizing that you were. 

You’ve not heard this song since he left. Not even so much as thought about Billy Joel’s music, let alone this sweatshirt that somehow made the move to Michigan when you thought you got rid of everything from your dad. 

A single tear falls from your eye, landing on the top of your lip. You taste its salty presence before you wipe it away with the cuff of your (his) shirt. 

The lyrics feel heavier than they ever have. 

Why don’t you realize…Vienna waits for you?

When will you realize…

As the song comes to an end, as Billy plays the final note on his piano, you arrive at the hospital. (Something about it feels poetic.)

He stops at the main entrance of the hospital this time, instead of the emergency room one.

“I have to go into work,” he says while you’re unbuckling your belt. “So just text me and let me know when you’re ready to leave and I’ll come get you.”

“If it’s too much trouble for you, I can just ask Natalia.” You say as you get out of his car. “ I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. She doesn’t work today, so it’d be easier for her.” 

Your tone is awfully cold. Distant. 

You feel like you’ve bothered him enough. So, you want to give him an out. He probably regrets ever helping you in the first place. 

His eyebrows become wrinkled underneath his sunglasses as he’s looking at you. Before you go to close the door, you hear him speak up.

“Well, that–that’s up to you, I suppose. But I don’t mind, y/n.” 

“I’ll let you know,” you say, staring down at your feet as you’re finding it difficult to make eye contact with him right now. “Thank you again.” 

And after that, you shut the door and walk towards the front door, hearing him drive away behind you.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“She’s in room 430. Just take the elevator to the fourth floor and follow the signs. You’ll come up to locked doors, so you’ll have to buzz in with the phone on the wall. Just tell them your name and who you’re here to see, and they’ll let you in.” This receptionist is worlds kinder than the one you encountered last night. She’s got kindness inscribed in her dark eyes, and a smile that tells you she truly cares about her job. Her long curly locks are beautiful and charming, the color a lovely shade of auburn. Perhaps not natural, as her roots are nearly black. But this shade suits her skin tone perfectly. 

“Are there stairs I could take instead?” You ask the curly headed receptionist. Elevators are not your thing. You’ve had a lifelong fear of becoming trapped in one, and with your anxiety levels higher than usual today, it’s probably best if you avoid them altogether. 

She shows you a warm smile as she guides your sight in the direction of the staircase. Thanking her, you quickly head that way.

The climb up the stairs is grueling and as you finally reach the last step, you’re struggling to catch your breath. It seems you didn’t realize just how many steps there are in four flights. It’s a lot of steps. But, still much better than the chance of becoming trapped in a tiny ass elevator. 

After catching your breath, you take heed of the receptionist's directions and follow the signs that lead you in the direction of her room. And just like she said, there’s a set of locked doors with a phone hanging on the wall. 

As soon as you lift it from the receiver, someone answers instantly. You tell them your name and your moms. They verify her birthday with you and once you tell them the correct date, you hear the doors unlock. You thank them before hanging up the phone and heading down the long, somewhat eerie hallway. 

You’ve always wondered why hospitals look like this. The cold, stark white walls and matching laminate flooring, the harsh fluorescents that are painful to look at. Nothing about it is inviting or comforting in the least, and you’ve always thought they should be. Especially for long term patients that are stuck here for god knows how long. 

It just doesn’t make sense to you. In your mind, hospitals should strive to have a warmer environment, for nothing else other than to make people feel more at ease when they’re in hard situations. 

As you’re nearing the end of the hallway, you see room 428 on your left, 429 a little ways further on your right, meaning 430 is the very last one on the end to your left.

The door is open, and just as you’re approaching it, a nurse is leaving the room with her rolling cart that’s carrying a slew of things to check, what you’re assuming, are vitals. 

She smiles as she walks past you, her squealing cart still audible as she rounds the corner to the unit secretary desk. 

You’re still for a moment, standing just a mere feet from her. Out of her sight, of course. And she out of yours as you’re not standing in the view of the doorway. 

There’s a rush of hesitancy forcing you to stay where you are. You’re not sure where it’s derived from, perhaps it’s from the fear of seeing her in such a state. 

Perhaps it’s something else. But you don’t know what.

Finally deciding that just standing here isn’t doing you or her any bit of good, you put one shaky foot in front of the other and walk towards the open door. 

And then, you see her.

Looking the smallest she’s ever looked in your eyes. She looks too small for all of the devices she’s hooked up to. 

Tangled wires. A mess of tangled wires and tubes and IV bags…

As you walk in a little further, she hears you. Her eyes, ever slow in their movement, blink open and shift to you. 

They’re heavy, almost drooping down her pale cheeks. They look tired. So, so tired.

“Hi, honey.” Her words come through in a sad attempt of vocalization. You hardly understood her, more so relying on reading the movement of her lips than anything. Her hand, complete with an IV needle, raises to motion a weak wave at you. 

I wasn’t there. I wasn’t fucking there when she needed me. I can’t leave her…I can’t leave ever again. It’s all my fault.

“Mom I’m–I’m so sorr–”

“You must be y/n!” You hear a booming voice from behind you, interrupting entirely. When you turn around, you see an incredibly tall man wearing a set of blue scrubs with a white lab coat on top. “Your mom has told us a lot about you. I feel like I know you already.” 

As he reaches out his hand for you to shake, he smiles widely when you take it in yours. “I’m Doctor Roth. It’s nice to meet you.” 

He seems positive. The smile he’s wearing makes you believe that everything just might be okay. “It’s really nice to meet you, too,” you say, a little timid. 

You look back to your mom, who seems to have fallen back to sleep. Rest is probably the best thing for her right now, so you don’t want to wake her. Even though all you want is to talk to her, tell her how terrible you feel that you  weren’t there. But it can wait. As long as she’s resting. 

“Hey, y/n.” Doctor Roth pulls your attention away from her with his James Earl Jones-esque voice. “Would you mind coming to speak with me for a moment?” 

While his bearings have changed a bit, he’s still smiling. But, something is a little off in his tone with the question he asked you. 

“Um, yeah. Of course.” You tell him, although you’re not sure you want to have this conversation. 

Will he tell you that she’s progressed much further than you initially thought? That she’ll never leave this hospital again? She’s dying and will be dead soon? 

As he leads you down the hall, stopping at a little room near the restroom, your heart is thumping rampantly in your tightening chest. 

“Before we begin,” he says while pulling a wooden chair out for you to have a seat. “Is there anything I can get you? Water? Coffee? I believe we have herbal tea, if you’d prefer.” 

Herbal tea always sounds wonderful to you, but you’re not sure you could even stomach a simple cup of water right now, so you politely decline his kind offer. 

“I would just like to ask you a few questions about your mom, if that’s okay.” He takes a seat directly across from you at the round table centered in the middle of the conference room. 

You nod your head, letting him know you’re okay with it. 

“I understand she is prescribed a series of medications for her pulmonary fibrosis. If my memory serves me correctly, she’s on Ofev, Pirfenidone and an anti-inflammatory. Is that everything?” He asks you, taking his rectangle frames off and placing them on top of his head.

“Yes, that’s correct.” You give her those pills every single night. You know their strange names by heart at this point.  “She also uses a few different inhalers to help airflow from her lungs. And she wears her oxygen about eighty percent of the time, of course.” 

“Right,” he says, blowing out a long sigh as he sits back in his chair. “Well, let me ask you this. When was the last time she took those medications? That you know of, of course.” 

“She took them last night before I left.” You answer, confidently. 

“Are you sure she did, y/n?” 

“Yes, of course I’m sure,” you say with a little offense. “I watched her take them before I left—” 

Then, you suddenly remember that you didn’t actually see her take them. You left them out for her and reminded her to take them before bed, but you didn’t see her take them. 

“I guess…I guess she didn’t take them before I left. But, I’m sure she took them before bed. She always does.” There’s a terrible feeling present within you, making your already turning tummy feel a lot worse. “Doctor Roth, why are you asking me this?” 

“There wasn’t any indication of them in her system when she came in. Usually, those drugs can be detected for a few days after they’ve been taken, but there was no sign of them in her bloodstream. Meaning, she hasn’t taken them in at least two to three days.” 

No. He’s wrong.

“That’s not possible. I give them to her every night. With the exception of last night, I always watch her take them. I make sure she takes them. I’m sorry, but you’ve got to be mistaken.” Your offense has now shifted to full on defense. 

He’s questioning your ability to take care of her, and that is not something you will take lying down. There’s a whole list of things you’re terrible at, but taking care of your mom is not part of that list. You know that for a damn fact. 

You’re not going to sit here and take this, so you decide enough is enough and stand up from your chair to leave. 

“Y/n, please. I need you to listen to me. The progression of her disease, it’s…” That word. Progression. It stops you dead in your tracks. You hate that word. “...it’s the quickest I’ve ever seen in my fifteen years of practicing. If she were taking her medication as she’s supposed to, her lungs wouldn’t look as bad as they do. They would still look bad, but those medications help to slow the stiffening of her lungs. But with the state they’re in, it’s clear that she’s taken very little to no medications.”  

You’re not sure what to make of this…what is he saying? 

Well, clearly he’s saying that she’s not taking her medications…but how? 

You give them to her, you see her take them…right?

“Is—is there a chance her disease is just progressing more rapidly than what’s normally expected?” You hate saying those words. They feel like poison coming out of your mouth. But they sound better than “she’s not taking her medication.”  

He stands up from his chair to stand closer to you, taking his glasses off his head and placing an end piece on his bottom lip. “That is a possibility, although that doesn’t explain why we saw no signs of her medications in her bloodstream.” 

“Is she on them now? Is that why she’s so groggy?” You ask him, remembering how she was hardly able to speak or move when you saw her just moments ago. 

“Yes, she is. And that is another sign that she’s not been taking them as prescribed. Her body should be adjusted to the severe lethargy that these are known to cause, and it’s clear she’s not.” 

While you know Doctor Roth has no reason to lie to you, you still can’t bring yourself to believe him entirely. It’s not like your mom to do this, to not take care of herself. 

But there’s no sense in arguing with him anymore. It’s not worth it. Doesn’t change the fact that she’s here. 

And as that terrible thought resurfaces, you’re reminded of a question you need to ask him. 

“How much longer will she need to stay here?”

“I can’t be certain,” he answers. “But we’ll need to monitor her a bit longer, run a few more tests. At least another three days or so, but we’ll let you know when we believe she’s ready.” 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

She’s still fast asleep, having been for a few hours while you sit quietly on the stiff couch in the corner of her room. The room is small, stuffy. Her only source of entertainment is a tiny television mounted high on the wall. 

You know she hates it here. You hate it for her. 

But the one redeeming thing about this room is her giant window that offers a beautiful view of the city skyline. Detroit is always busy, always bustling. 

But it’s lovely, especially from this fourth story view. 

And it's a nice distraction from the beeping monitors and noisy machines. 

Nurses have been in and out every hour to check her vitals, making small talk with you while they record every result. They’ve all been so friendly, each one of them asking if they can bring you anything to eat. You’ve turned them down each time. 

Food hasn’t been your concern today. Wasn’t your concern yesterday, either. 

You’re hungry, that much you can tell. But you can think of a million things you’d rather do right now than eat. Eating would only increase your anxious thoughts, and that wouldn’t do you a bit of good at the moment.

You can just eat when you get home. You’ll last until then. (You’ve lasted a hell of a lot longer than this before.)

You suddenly feel the vibration of your phone still tucked away in the waistband of your leggings. 

To your astonishment, it's a text from Jake. 

You didn’t expect to hear from him, but seeing his name on the screen of your phone does feel nice. It feels really nice, actually. 

Jake: I meant to ask but it slipped my mind. How's your hand?

You’d completely forgotten about your hand. But Jake didn’t.

And it warms your heart that he thought to ask about something so meaningless to you. 

You look down to examine your fist to give him a proper answer. Aside from a slight purple tint on the skin, you wouldn’t be able to guess it was injured at all.

You: It’s much better. Some bruising but no more swelling and I can hardly feel it. The ice really helped!

He responds almost instantly, meaning he probably still had your messages still pulled up on his end. 

Jake: Good. : )

Jake, although he has his moments, is great at forcing a smile out of you when it feels impossible to do so. 

His message is reassuring, especially with how last night (early this morning, actually) ended. 

Before you can type out a response, you notice she’s beginning to stir just a bit. She’s done this periodically throughout the day, but this is the first time you’ve seen her open her eyes since this morning when you first arrived.

She turns her head a bit towards you, so you get up and move closer to her. 

“Hi, mom.” You say softly.

She smiles at you, the best she can despite every obstruction on her face. 

Just then, a nurse walks in for her hourly check. “She’s awake!” He excitedly exclaims. 

He’s young, probably a fresh graduate. You’ve seen him in here once before a few hours ago. He’s very sweet, the kindness you’d expect every nurse to have. 

He runs through her vitals quickly, telling you he wants to give you two plenty of alone time. 

You thank him as he leaves, and he flashes a sincere smile while he turns the corner of the hallway. 

Her eyes are suddenly glued to you, but not just you. Your sweatshirt. 

“Where’d you find that, honey?” She questions. 

“Oh, I don’t know I just— I’m not worried about it. I am worried about you. What happened last night, mom?”

You’re sure she recognizes that it’s your dads…and you feel terrible for wearing it around her right now for that very reason. You just didn’t consider it. So, it’s probably best to change the subject. 

She sits up a bit and you reach out to help her. You place her pillows in a way that keeps her upright without her needing to use much strength to do so. Once she’s comfortable, you sit down in the recliner next to her bed. 

“They’re telling me all kinds of crazy things,” she says. “I’m just fine, I know I am.” 

They’ve more than likely asked her about her medications, how they didn’t find any in her system. You want so badly to ask her about that. But, it’s not the time. Not yet. 

“I feel so bad, mom. I shouldn't have been out that late. I should’ve been there, I could’ve done something, I…” Your throat becomes tight with a lump, your eyes brimming with a hundred unshed tears. It’s just all too much. And you feel like you’re to blame. You just can’t shake that feeling. 

“Don’t be sorry, sweet girl.” Her weak hand reaches out for yours. As you take it, you notice just how clammy she feels. “It would’ve happened whether or not you were there. I think it was bound to happen sooner or later.” 

She’s probably right. But, had you been there, maybe the ambulance would’ve been called sooner.

The ambulance. How did they…? “Mom, I have to know who to thank for saving your life.” The tears are streaming down your hot cheeks at this point. “Do you know who called?”

“Mrs. Sweeney,” she answers right away, as if it didn’t require any thought. “Bless her soul. She’s the sweetest lady. She heard me cry out just as I fainted, and called 911 for me.”

Mrs. Sweeney is your next door neighbor in your complex. She’s been the most wonderful neighbor to your and your mom since you moved in. It makes perfect sense that she’d be the one to call. 

“I’ll have to thank her,” you say, wiping away the tears. “She did what I should’ve been there to do.”

Her eyes suddenly widen, a stark contrast in how they’ve looked all day. “There’s…there’s no need, honey. I already thanked her. Called her last night, she’s been thanked plenty.” 

She could call Mrs. Sweeney…but not me?

“Oh. Well, okay," you say, confused. “I guess it would be beating a dead horse at this point to thank her again.” And with that, her eyes go back to their groggy state, closing slowly as she falls back to sleep.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“How is she?” Jake asks as you climb in the passenger's seat. He insisted on coming to get you as soon as visitings hours ended. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. He told you he was already on that side of town anyways, so he didn’t see the point in you asking Natalia to make the trip. 

“She’s…I don’t really know, to be honest.” It’s true. You don’t know how she is. You’re leaving the hospital with more questions than you had coming in.

His question…there’s just no easy way to answer it. “She’s okay, for now. But she…she may not be much longer. It’s…complicated.” 

“You don’t have to tell me more if you don’t want to. I’m glad she’s okay at the moment.” He tells you.

You smile at him, then relish in the silence the rest of the way home. 

You’re grateful that he’s not prying. It’s too much to talk about right now, and it seems he’s picked up on that. 

You breathe a deep sigh of relief when you arrive at your apartment, ready to climb in bed and try to get some much needed sleep. 

You thank Jake before he leaves, fishing for your keys out of your belt bag as you head up the stairs to the third floor. 

Once you make it to your door, you see Mrs. Sweeney leaving as you’re about to walk into your place. Your mom told you not to thank her again, but you can’t help it. You still haven’t thanked her, and it’s just not in your character to ignore a good deed from someone.

“Mrs. Sweeney?” You say as she’s locking her door. 

“Hi, dear! How's your mom today? I’m sure you two have had quite the night.”  

“She’s okay,” you say, the words feeling like a lie. “All thanks to you. I can’t thank you enough for calling the ambulance last night. Seriously, you saved her life when I wasn’t here–”

You stop talking once you see her expression change. She looks befuddled, almost disoriented. “Oh honey, I’m not the one who called last night. I thought you did, dear.” 

…she didn’t call? 

“But my mom said— you didn’t hear her call out for help?”

With a contemplative look, she puts her keys in her purse and faces you. “I didn’t hear anything. And I was home all night. This is the first I’ve left since yesterday morning. I’m sorry I didn’t hear her, dear. Were you not home?” 

As if it were even possible, there are more questions filling your head. 

“I wasn’t, but I’m sure one of the other neighbors called. Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Sweeney. I hope you have a good day!”

“Not a bother at all, love.” 

You walk into your empty apartment, in a near state of shock. 

Why did your mom lie to you? And so blatantly, at that? It’s not something you want to let yourself believe. Maybe it was because of her state, she was just confused after everything. But…she didn’t look confused. 

And she told you she talked to Mrs. Sweeney herself, which clearly didn’t happen. 

As much as you want to figure all of this out, you’re far too exhausted to give it much more thought. You need sleep. Sleep first, then you can get to the bottom of it. But for now, the only thing you’re craving is your bed. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

A pounding on the door  wakes you from the depths of your slumber, nearly startling you off the bed in the process. The post nap disorientation is in full effect. The sun was still up when you laid down, and now your room is in almost complete darkness. 

The pounding on the door persists, forcing you to wake up all the way. Who in the world…?

Hesitant to answer with it being so late and being all by yourself, you reach for your phone in case you need to call someone.

And right as you go to grab, you realize you have four text messages from Nat. 

Nat: Are you home yet??

Nat: If you are, be ready to come outside in about 20.

Nat: Hello?

Nat: COME OUTSIDE! We have a surprise for you. 

Based on the messages, you’re realizing that Nat is the persistent knocker. You love this girl so much, and you’re hoping that whatever her surprise is was worth waking you up for. 

Also, you’re not sure what she meant  by “we,” though you’ve got a hunch it could be her new suitor. 

You: Sorry, just woke up. On my way

Summoning what little strength you have left, you force yourself to get out of bed and head towards the front door. Your feet are literally dragging as you walk across the dark apartment. Turning on the outside light, you swing open the door to Nat’s beaming, beautiful face adorned with a full toothed smile. 

“Hey there, sleepy head!” 

Bringing your hand up, you rub what’s left of your (very little) sleep from your eyes. 

“What’s your surprise?” You ask with a tired voice. 

“Hold out your hand,” she says, an enormous grin still across her face. “And close your eyes.”

With as heavy as your eyes still are, closing them isn’t an issue. (You just wish you were still in bed while doing it.)

You do as she says, and as soon as your eyelids are shut and your hands are outreached, she places something peculiar in your flattened palms. 

“What is thi–'' you begin to ask, interrupted by her as she practically yells for you to open your eyes. 

And when you do, you see a single key. 

But, not just any key. It’s the key to your shitty ass Firebird.

“What the hell? Natalia Delores, what did you do?” You ask her, having a good idea of what this is all about.

And then you hear a honking coming from the parking lot. As you look over the edge of the stairs, you see Danny’s curly brown locks hanging out of the driver's side window of your car. 

“Surprise!” She exclaims. “Dan the handyman fixed your car!” 

Cringing at the ridiculous nickname, you give her a huge hug before sprinting down the stairs to do the same to handyman Dan. 

“Did you realize you were missing your key?” He asks as he wraps you in a long embrace. 

“I had no idea,” you say, still held tightly in Danny’s muscular arms. “How did you guys manage to get it without me noticing?” 

“Jake,” Nat tells you. “He took it off your keyring this morning.” 

You’ve a good feeling that happened before you got up this morning, probably before he went out to wait in his car. 

Danny is the first to break the hug, leaving you on your own against the chilly night air. 

“Can I pay you for this?” You ask him, crossing your arms over your chest to act as a barrier from the cold. 

“Absolutely not. I won’t accept a single dime from you.” He insists, brushing a curl out of his face. 

“Danny, I know this was probably really expens–”

“Nope.” He interrupts. “Not a dime.”

With a fake grunt of irritation, you give in. (Partly so you can get inside and out of the cold.)

“Thank you. Thank you both, seriously. This is such a huge burden lifted.” 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Despite how things transpired with you and Sam, he’s still treated you the very same. You were terrified that there would be some awkward air with you two after the way you left him the other night, but it’s as if he’s all but forgotten about it. He still fawned over you when you arrived for filming tonight, him and Josh referring to you as “the queen” when you walked in, as usual. 

You haven’t told him about your mom. In fact, the only people who know are Jake and Natalia. You asked them both to not say anything. It’s not because you don’t trust everyone—they’ve all become some of the best friends you’ve ever had in your life, better than any friend you had back in Oklahoma. You just don’t want the attention that would inevitably bring. You don’t need them feeling sorry for you, and you don’t need them asking questions that you don’t want to answer, to questions you can’t answer. And you know it would lead to the fact that your dad doesn’t have shit to do with you. 

It’s just not something that needs to be advertised, not yet. You don’t want it to be the only thing everyone associates you with. You want them to still like you for you. Everything else can be addressed later. 

Of course, that did raise some other questions. Mostly about why Jake didn’t come home that night when your car broke down. His response to his brothers was simple; he just didn’t feel like driving back home that late, so he crashed on your couch. That wasn’t too far from the truth.

They didn’t even bat an eye at it. Just accepted it as fact and moved right on, not giving it a second thought. Jake is a bit distant from his brothers at times, so it’s probably not entirely out of the norm for him to not come home some nights. 

You’re glad that things have been pretty much normal for you and your filming crew.

While you’re not acting tonight, you decided to come over to the Kiszka place anyway, just to get away from your own mess for a little while. The apartment feels much bigger when it’s just you living in it. You love to have your alone time, but it’s been so much lately that your mind is going to some dark places, places that you’re forced to revisit when there’s no one else around to distract you.

So, suffice to say, you jumped at the opportunity when Josh asked you to come over tonight. He often invites you over on filming nights when your scenes aren’t being shot, says he enjoys your company and input on accuracies pertaining to the lore. You normally turn him down on those instances, feeling far too guilty for leaving your mom when you are filming. But with her still being in the hospital, you didn’t see the harm in taking him up on it this time.

Tonight's scene is between Arthur and Camille. Between Jake and Stacy. The first time you’ll see Jake as Arthur, and you’ll finally get to see for yourself what their on-camera chemistry is like. You’ve been told more than once that they’re great together, but now you have the chance to see it instead of just being told about it.

Although, you’re not exactly excited  to see them interact this way. And a huge part of you is hoping that they’ll royally suck together. You’ve been so busy that you haven’t had time to come watch their scenes, not that you’ve really tried that hard to do so. You could’ve if you actually wanted to.

But, you figured you’d rather see it in person than wait until the film is finished. And your imagination has run rampant with what they’re like together and the ‘not knowing’ has been painful. At least after tonight, you’ll know. You won’t have to wonder anymore, and it won’t be a surprise when you get to see the film in its entirety. 

Something you’re a little (more than a little, honestly) happy about is the fact that Stacy doesn’t have her “own” dressing room like you do. Granted, it’s Jake's room that has been designated as your changing space. But, still. She’s stuck using the guest bathroom to change in, and you can’t help the curling of your lips when you see her struggle to carry her costumes in there. 

Nat nudges your shoulder with hers when she catches your grin, letting you know that she saw that. You can tell by her features that she’s thinking the exact same thing.

“You know I need more details.” She says, hushed. 

You know exactly what she’s talking about, but you’ll play dumb anyway.

“Details?” You question with a look of false confusion. “Details about what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, y/n. Tell me more about Jake spending the night with you.”

You shush her as you lead her over to the dining table for a little more seclusion, both sitting in the chairs furthest away from the commotion in the living room where Josh and Malachi are busy adding the final touches to tonight's set.

“Nothing happened, if that’s what you’re wondering. Neither one of us could sleep very well, so we sat on the couch and talked for a bit, but that’s all.” You stare down at your thumbs as you twiddle them. You don’t really feel like mentioning him physically brushing you off when you both got a little too close for his comfort. You don’t even like thinking about it, let alone talking about it. 

Attempting to come up with something to change the subject, you feel terrible when you realize you’ve not even asked Nat anything about her and Danny. You perk up when at the opportunity to talk about something that isn’t the awkwardness between you and Jake.

“Speaking of details,” you say, sitting both your elbows on the table and resting your face in your hands, giving her your full attention. “I need you to tell me everything about you and Daniel this very minute. And don’t you dare leave out a single thing.”

A beautifully shy smile stretches her plump lips as she tucks a loose curl behind her ear. 

“Well, what would you like to talk about first?” She asks, her eyes lighting up. “The fact that we’ve seen each other everyday since our first date, or the fact that he’s the best I’ve ever had in bed?”

Your hands drop to the table, a stupidly massive smile plastered to your face. 

“Natalia!” You exclaim, scooting closer to her. “I can’t believe it, dude! So, are you, like, official? Or just fucking?” 

“Official,” she says, your mouth dropping from pure excitement for them. You can’t get over it. They make such a stunning couple. And she’s clearly so damn happy. That’s the most important thing. “And fucking,” she continues as you throw a hand over your mouth to muffle the laughter. “ A lot of it, too.”

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She looks breathtaking. Gorgeous. The pale shade of purple they have her in accentuates the emerald tones in her round eyes, the matching flowers in her braided hair look like a halo casted over her shiny, sunshine-yellow locks. 

Stacy’s appearance serves as a stark contrast to Guinevere’s. Her look embodies sweetness, innocence. While your character exudes sensuality as an adulteress with her black and red color palette, Stacy’s is meant to radiate charm and a sense of purity. Purity in the sense that, while she’s cheating with Arthur, she isn’t cheating on Arthur. 

Josh did this on purpose, to make Camille look innocent and unassuming, but in reality, she will be a catalyst in King Arthur's inevitable downfall. The fact that she’s an evil enchantress is hidden beneath her flowery looks. With everyone believing Guinevere to be the horrid seductress, no one would suspect that the true horror lies in the guise of Camille, who’s ever cunning under her false veil. 

Though you’re not surprised, she looks the epitome of sheer beauty. Walking perfection. And it’s a bit painful to see. She’s everything you wish you could be. 

You’re suddenly not sure you’re ready to see her interact with Jake in this scene. But, better now than later. Get it over with so you won’t have to wonder. You can sulk about it later when you have time to really feel your insecurities.

And now, here comes Jake. As if it weren’t hard enough to witness the utter beauty that Stacy carries, it’s an entirely different feeling with Jake’s. 

He looks…just so damn good. 

Tonight, instead of just the usual chainmail top and black trousers, he’s added a touch of regality with black velvet cloak over top, the very same one Josh promised him months ago. He looks like true royalty, exuding an aura of majesty, complete with a sword sheathed at his side. 

They both get settled in their respective places on set, and as soon as Josh yells “action,” a surge of unease radiates within you as you feel your whole body tense up.

As soon as they slip effortlessly into their characters, their obvious chemistry is instantly ignited before the camera. Every touch, every glance they share is loaded with an undeniable intensity. 

The way Jake's hand lingers on Stacy's waist, the way they lock eyes with such intensity…you can’t deny the fact that they’re wonderful together. Aesthetically, they just fit. Much better than you and Jake would, you’ve no doubt. 

When Jake speaks his first line, you’re shocked to hear him use a British accent. A horrible one, at that. 

You have to cover your face to hide the fact that you’re trying not to burst at the seams. But you’re not the only one. Nat has turned her head entirely in the direction opposite of you, which is probably a good thing. One glance at each other and you’d both break with boisterous laughter. 

Sam, however, makes no attempt to hide his true feelings. Standing right behind you, he loudly chuckles his classic, Sam laugh that makes it even harder for you to maintain composure.

Then, you hear a very audible groan from Josh, followed by yelling “CUT!” at the top of his lungs.

“Why did you stop us?” Jake blurts out, his arms flailing in obvious frustration. 

“I told you to use whatever creative liberty you deemed necessary for the character,” Josh confirms, both hands resting on his hips. “But I’ve asked, more than once, mind you, to not use that ridiculous fucking accent.”

Here we go. It just wouldn’t be a normal night of filming without at least several fights from the twins.

“It’s essential to the character, Josh. He is the legendary King of Britain, is he not?” His question is more like a statement, adding extra emphasis on the word “Britain” to secure his point.

“I told you, Sir Jacob.” 

Sir Jacob…?

“It doesn’t make sense if no one else is following suit with your shitty accent.” Josh continues. Jake flips a rather dramatic middle finger towards his twin, with Josh generously showing him the very same affection. 

“Alright. Take two of scene number 67,” Josh pauses a moment, waiting until they’re ready. “And…action.”

Thanks to Jake's “creative liberty,” you have to sit through the scene again, watching them and their perfect chemistry—again. 

And then…

…they kiss. The very moment you were not waiting for.

With the way his lips so passionately intertwine with hers, it’s clear they’ve done this more than a couple of times. And not only for the sake of the film. This kind of intimacy transcends the limits of film.

You and Sam had natural chemistry, but their chemistry goes miles beyond what you instinctively had with Sam. Theirs feels experienced. Experienced with each other. 

If there was any doubt lingering that they slept together that night after the haunted house, it’s all but confirmed for you now. 

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“When will your mom be ready to come home?” Nat asks you as the two of you are packing up the set.  

You quickly look around to be sure no one’s close enough to hear, the hesitancy to let everyone know is still hanging onto you tightly.

“Actually, she’ll get to come home tomorrow," you share with her. “She was good as new when I visited her today, and the doctor said she’s making huge strides.”

Your words carry a little unsureness. It’s not that you’re not happy to have her home, the apartment has been terribly lonely and you’re ready to get things somewhat back to normal. But, you can’t get rid of this feeling that something’s just not right with the whole situation. 

From the Doctor telling you there were no medications in her system to her telling you that she personally spoke with Mrs. Sweeney, thanking her for calling the ambulance, despite Mrs. Sweeney having no recollection of it and having not made the call to 911…There’s a web of uncertainty weaving in your brain. You know Nat can sense your apprehension based on the look she’s giving you as she places all the silk flowers neatly in their box. 

“You don’t sound too excited,” she observes. “Are you still thinking about what the doctor told you?” 

“I just can’t force myself to believe it. I know the evidence is there,” you remark, brows furrowed in confusion as you help her shove the ivy vines in the box with the flowers. “But it just…it doesn’t feel right, you know? Why would she do something like that?” 

Her eyes mirror the same questions plaguing your mind, the empathy ever present in them. You know she understands your confusion, her support has been a comfort during these last few maddening  days. (Though you still haven’t told her about your conversation with Mrs. Sweeney. You suppose that can wait until you’ve had enough time to process it.)

“But, I am happy that she’ll be home. It’s been so weird not having her there.” Once you get the last of the silk plants packed up, Nat takes the packing tape and adds a few pieces along the center to secure it for safekeeping. 

“I’m just worried about getting her up the three flights of stairs to our place,” you continue. “The elevator went out again and she can’t really climb them on her own. And I’m not strong enough to get her up myself.” You look to her with pleading eyes, hoping she’ll pick up on your silent request for help. 

“You know I would help if I could, y/n. But I’ll be out of town all day tomorrow with Danny visiting his family.” She tells you. You can tell by her tone that she feels bad, but it’s not her fault. 

“Well,” she says, contemplating her options. “Maybe I could just drive myself, so that way I could leave and come help you with your mom and then go back when she’s all settled.” Her offer is undeniably kind, but you can’t bring yourself to allow her to do that. You don’t want to be the reason her whole day is disrupted. 

“No, no. It’s totally okay, babe,” you acknowledge, grateful that she’d even consider such a thing. “We’ll manage. Thank you, though. I appreciate you a lot.” 

Just as you’re finishing up, you hear someone shuffling around in the kitchen. Looking in that direction, you see Jake gathering a few things to prepare dinner. 

“I can help you tomorrow, y/n.” He says, back turned to you and Nat. “Just let me know when.” 

You and Nat share a knowing glance that says what you’re both collectively thinking. 

You shouldn’t be surprised that he’s offering, given how much he helped you that night and the next day. But, you still can’t help feeling shocked at his proposition.  

“S-sure, Jake.” You say. “I’ll text you the time.” 

But as you accept his offer, gratitude mixed with trepidation floods your thoughts. You’re suddenly mortified at what he may have heard you and Nat talking about, surrounding your unease with your mom’s situation. 

How long had he been standing there?

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“So this is the famous Jake,” she remarks as you wheel her through the automatic doors to Jake, who’s standing outside his Range Rover ready to help her into the passenger’s seat. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as she makes it obvious that you’ve talked about him to her before. 

Meanwhile, Jake’s lips curl in a playful grin at her statement. “Nice to finally meet you,” he says, extending a helping hand as you begin helping her out of the wheelchair and onto her feet. You try to avoid making eye contact with him as you and he position yourselves on either side of her, helping to stabilize her as she walks towards the car. But he isn’t trying to avoid it. Each accidental glance his way is met with his mischievous eyes fixed on you, his grin remaining ever present. Together, combined with what little strength she has, the three of you successfully settle her into the car without any issues. 

Taking the middle seat in the second row, you buckle up as Jake starts the engine and begins the drive to your place.

You didn’t consider the fact that she would probably bombard him with personal questions, and that’s just what she does the entire way home. She asks him all the basics, probing into his background and interests with relentless questions. His answers are pretty short for the most part, not getting very personal with her curiosity. (Sounds familiar.) But it’s her next question that has you wishing you were anywhere but here.

“Are you single?” She inquires innocently. (Although it’s perhaps not very innocent, given what you’ve told her about him.)

In the reflection of the rearview mirror, you see Jake’s eyes widen, mirroring pure shock. You bring your palm up to rest against your forehead, silently wishing to teleport to your apartment and end this agonizing drive once and for all.

But when he answers, you feel your heart sink to the pit of your stomach. 

“I, uh, guess you could say I’m single. I’ve been dating casually, nothing serious though.”

At his mention of “casual dating,” your mind instantly begins reeling and going straight to Stacy and the possibility (likelihood) that he’s been dating her. It shouldn’t bother you as much as it does—you’re nothing to him, after all—but the sting of his words still linger in the air, leaving you feeling so small. Perhaps if you looked like Stacy, he’d be just as interested in “casually” dating you. 

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“Would you like to stay for dinner?” She offers once the three of you make it up to the third floor of your complex. “I’m sure y/n could whip up something quick for us.” A bit of annoyance washes over you with her offering for you to make dinner for everyone. She obviously can’t, but the fact that she just decided you didn’t have anything else to do besides making dinner for three people? Maybe you’re overthinking it, but it’s not sitting right with you at the moment. 

Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation finally catching up with you. Or it’s your mind swirling with a million things at once. The doctor's words, Jake dating Stacy, the burgeoning voice insisting that you don’t eat. (And eating around other people right now is just far too much.)

“Thanks for asking, but I have to get back to work,” he tells her as he’s helping her in the door.

“What do you do for work, Jake?” She asks. But before he gives himself the chance to answer, he’s telling you both goodbye as he quickly heads out the door.

…okay? It’s such a simple question, why couldn’t he answer it?

While you’re standing here, confused and baffled by his actions, your mom seems to have not even noticed it as she’s now seated on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the channels to find one of her shows. 

“When will you be ready for dinner?” She asks you, not even looking your way as you're standing dumbfounded in the middle of the living room. Trying to shove down your frustration, you take her hint that she’s ready to eat and head into the kitchen to prepare tonight's meal. 

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You greet Jake with a sincere smile as you take your seat in Movacks class, only to be met with a simple nod as he looks away from you. 

“Mornin, Jake!” You chirp, summoning your best “Oklahoma” intonation like he brought up the other night, hoping to coax a smile from him. But you're left feeling utterly humiliated as he doesn't even acknowledge you, opting instead to focus on his phone. It's as if you didn't say a single word, leaving you feeling like an actual imbecile for the obnoxious display you've just made. It’s rather clear he wants nothing to do with you today, his pissy mood a good indication that you should probably just keep to yourself. No need in furthering his frustrations with the annoyance that is you.

You’ve tried to ignore the fact that he’s become considerably more distant with you since he helped you bring your mom home the other day. You’ve not even heard from him since then, and given how invested he seemed to be with the whole thing, it’s almost like he’s completely left in the past at this point. 

“I trust you all read the poems you were assigned with your project partner last time we met,” proclaims Dr. Movack as he walks into the room just as class is set to begin.

You and Jake were assigned Sir Lancelot and Guinevere by Alfred Tennyson, a poem that delves deeply into the forbidden affair. A bit of an unwitting irony when considering the depths of your project. He seemed out of sorts about it when you were given the poem to analyze last class period, acting as though it was a chore to have to read it. But you were excited about it, for very obvious reasons as it’s yet another layer added to your research on the character you’ve been playing. 

"Alright, everyone," Dr. Movack announces, starting the timer on his phone. "For the first twenty minutes of class, I want you to pair up with your partners and discuss your individual analyses of the piece you were assigned."

With a hefty sigh, Jake pivots his upper body towards you. “Thoughts?” He asks as his hands gesture for you to begin the conversation, clearly annoyed at this whole thing. (As if it’s your fucking fault you’re his partner.)

“Well,” you start, still taken aback but his brash behavior towards you for, as far as you can tell, no logical reason. “It compares their love to that of nature, while also equating Guin’s beauty to the same thing, making it seem as tho–”

“Kay.” He abruptly cuts you off, turning himself around so he’s no longer facing you, arms crossed and a vexed look about his pretty face. Clad with his John Lennon glasses, reminding you way too much of your initial interactions with him.

“I…I wasn’t done, Jake,” you state, sternly. 

“What else do you need to say?” He implores, his tone making sound more like a harsh statement than a question.

“I also need to say that its theme is a balance of pain and joy, of knowing that they can never truly have each other the way they desire, but celebrating the profound joy they do experience in their shared moments,” 

“The poem constructs the idea of Lancelot tending to the needs of Guin much more tenderly and passionately than Arthur could have ever done for her,” you suggest, pushing him to give you more than what he’s been giving you thus far. (Which has been absolutely nothing.)

But… it didn’t work. You lost him. It was as if the last word out of your mouth shut him completely down. You see through the wire earpiece of his staple Ray-Bans as his eyes close. A hand slowly goes up to rub his temple. 

One more shot. 

“What do you think about—?”

“What the fuck did they teach you in Oklahoma?” He fumes, suddenly and unexpectedly, his head snapping in your direction.

“What?” You blink a few times, surely hearing him wrong. 

“This stupid ass shit you’re spewing,” he growls, turning away from you once again. “Just shut the fuck up.”

“Excuse me?” Okay, you were nearly certain you had heard him correctly. And the way his mouth was set in a straight, unchanging line of ire told you as much.

“I’m so tired of this back and forth game where you think your little hick town brain can get you anywhere in a place like this,” he mumbles angrily, ripping open his journal and book to take his own notes. “It’s not cute to use what little knowledge you came here with as a point of intellect. It doesn’t work to prove anything. We all know the backwoods girl who is hiding underneath this fucking charade you’re displaying for everyone.” 

Your throat constricts, growing tighter and tighter as tears wet your eyes, threatening to fall. He rakes his fingers haphazardly through his shoulder-length, waving locks. With fists clenched, nails pinching your skin where they dig into your palms, you want to grab him by his hair and force him to fully face you again. 

He needs to not be a coward when he says shit that makes your heart quite actually break, crookedly down the middle. Your heart that can only take so fucking much.

He turns, just slightly. His jaw is tight, flexing beneath his frustratingly beautiful skin. How could one man encapsulate so much? One second, he’s driving you here, there, and everywhere—making you feel at ease in a time of desolation. And the next, he’s mocking you for your heritage—calling you out and chiding you for something you can’t help or control. 

A state that, in this moment, you realize you’re proud to represent in some way (you grew up there, the place raised you). You’re feeling some strange, burning need to defend it. 

His body is swiveled back around to fully face you when he rips his glasses off of his face. You fear momentarily of him breaking the delicate metal, but you soon forget the thought when you notice his expression. 

His eyes are flaming, indignant — pure fire in the sweet honeyed bourbon hue of his irises. A fire that infiltrates something so sweet and almost pure… almost. It’s Jake, for God’s sake; he can only get so pure. The word doesn’t even come close to fitting his demeanor at this moment.

The way he looks at you, making you want to crawl completely out of your skin.

“I don’t want you to insert an opinion on this material that is founded on the bullshit they teach you in tiny towns like Cherry-fucking-Tree,” he spit. “It’s a waste of my time and energy to even entertain the ideas that circulate in your mind full of, at best, average thought processes.”

Average. Just an average, hick girl. From the shitass town of Cherry-fucking-Tree. 

Average—Worthless. Just like the town you come from. How could you ever be anything coming from a place like that?

The tears begin cascading down your cheeks before you can even think to challenge them. There is no point in stopping the pools that are leaving your eyes in steady tracks down your hot cheeks. You’re shaking—shivering with equal parts twinging sadness and unkempt rage.

You let them fall momentarily, in shock as his eyes stay locked on yours, unwavering and loathsome of you. In his eyes, you watch every negative emotion he feels for you pass through them. 

“Fuck you, Jake.” Your words are stern, louder than you expected. Yet, you don’t care–because your voice conveys all of the hurt you’re encompassed with. 

And as you utter the cold words, you notice that the rest of the classroom is dead silent. A quick glance out of your peripheral vision confirms that all their heads are turned towards you and Jake.

But the eye contact with him doesn’t break. As much as you hate when people see you cry, you need him to see the hurt he’s caused you. 

“I have heard quite enough out of the two of  you!” Shouts Dr. Movack from his place at the podium. Still yet, neither one of you looks away from the other. “You both need to leave my classroom, immediately!”

“Gladly,” you shout, tossing your things in your bag with such a force that causes Jake to wince with each thing you throw in. 

He begins doing the same, matching your frustration with heavy hands. 

You don’t want to walk out with him, so before he can finish, you begin stomping through the classroom, brushing past Dr. Movack once you make it to the door. 

“Expect zeros for today's participation!” He proclaims, but you’re already halfway down the hall. 

Heavy streams of tears drench your face as you pick up the pace to get the fuck out of this godforsaken building before Jake can catch up to you. 

You can’t stand the sight of him right now, you can’t even fathom ever speaking to him again. His words cut deeper than any knife ever could, of that you’re certain. 

It hurts, it really fucking hurts. 

“Y/n, please wait, I–I’m sorry,” you hear in the distance as you’re crossing the street to the parking lot where your car sits. “I didn’t mean—fuck.”

The sound of the voice is unmistakable.

It’s Jake’s. You can discern it from the one he wielded like a weapon, his tool of choice to dismantle and destroy you, word by hateful word.

He calls for you again, but you choose to ignore his pathetic attempt at an “apology,” jumping in your car and starting the engine, wiping the excess tears away that are constricting your vision.

You briefly look up as you shift the gear into drive, catching sight of Jake’s defeated form standing on the last concrete step of the stairway leading to the doors of Angell Hall. 

And as you’re backing out of your spot, he rips his glasses off, tossing them to the ground with a force that very obviously shatters them. 

You know he was probably just speaking out of pure anger, but where that anger is derived from is what you don’t understand. You’ve not done anything so bad to him to deserve any of what he just threw at you.

But no matter where it came from, he had no fucking right to speak to you the way he did. 

Not finding the strength within you to turn back and go to him to hear his apology, you drive away and leave him there to deal with what he’s done alone. 

While there’s a part of you that wants to hear his explanation, you don’t owe it to him to give him the chance. It’s not worth your time at this point. He’s made it known that you’re nothing but a massive pill in his life, that he would probably be much happier without you in it, ruining it with every backwoods word you speak.

He watches you as you drive away, his features as cold as if they were carved in the very stone he’s standing on, unreadable even from a distance.

Tears begin brimming in your ducts yet again as you turn onto the street to head home, him now fully out of your sight. 

It's unfathomable how someone could harbor such hatred towards you, and yet, despite it all, you can't shake the intense desire you still feel for him. 

It just doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t make sense.

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The squeaky wheels of the wooden library cart echo throughout the entire building with each push. The screeching metal wheels send a chill up your spine each time you move, and you’re silently apologizing to everyone in here for the obtrusive noise. With midterms officially over as of last week, everyone has been dropping their books off in piles the past few days. After sorting through them all, making sure to note who returned their books on their account, it’s finally time to put them back on the shelf. 

As much as you hate the squeaky cart, this is your favorite part of the job. It gives you the chance to conduct a very detailed tour of the library on your own terms, truly allowing you to see it all. There’s no lack of discovering something new each time. You love this old building, and you love the smell of the books. The scent was the first thing you noticed when you walked in here for the first time all those months ago, and it still remains your favorite smell in the world.

As you look towards the end of the long Political Science aisle you’re standing in, you suddenly catch Nat peeking her head around the corner, waving at you while her clunky brown boots click as she walks your direction. 

“Need any help? It’s dead as a doornail up there and I’m bored as hell.”

“Sure, Mr. Dickens,” you joke at her nod to a literary classic. “I’ll gladly accept your help.”

She begins helping with your task, finding a certain peace in her company amidst the quiet library.

“I can’t find where this goes, any clue?” You ask, holding up the book on the tools of presenting a good argument. She takes it from you and examines it a bit, reading the faded numbers on the spine. 

“Well, I see why you’re having trouble,” she says, full smirk across her blush pink, glossy lips. “It’s marked wrong. This goes in General Law.”

With a playful wink, she gestures toward the correct section to guide you to its proper place on the shelf.

“How’s your momma?” She asks. “Is she feeling better?”

“She’s okay. She’s home, and she’s alive…it’s all just so strange.” You shelve the last of the political science books stacked on your cart, wheeling it around the corner to the General Law section as Nat follows close behind. “There’s still so many unanswered questions. I just can’t figure out who called the ambulance.”

“Wasn’t it your neighbor?” She asks, helping you maneuver the heavy cart around the tight corner. 

“That’s what I thought,” you answer, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you remember the strange conversation you had just days ago with Mrs. Sweeney. “But she told me she didn’t make the call. She said the ambulance just showed up. I asked her if she heard my mom calling out for help, or anything from our apartment that sounded concerning, something that would prompt an emergency call…and she said no.”

Nat matches your confused state, stopping to take in everything you’d just told her. “That just doesn’t make any sense,” she says. “Is it possible that she called for the ambulance?”

“My mom?” You hadn’t even considered the possibility. And, she would’ve told you…right? You don’t know why you’re so desperate to know, why it’s keeping you up at night that Mrs. Sweeney told you she didn’t call, that your mom had basically lied to you about the whole thing. “I–I don’t think so, Nat. She was completely unresponsive when they found her.” 

Now the wheels are turning. Maybe it was her, and perhaps she just…didn’t tell you? Is she trying to hide something? It just doesn’t feel likely but…possible, you guess. It wouldn’t hurt to ask her. Putting this whole thing to rest would make it so you can finally rest.

“Well, like you said,” Nat utters, breaking you free of your relentless, turning mind. “She’s alive. And that’s all that really matters, right?”

Of course that’s all that matters. But, you can’t help the feeling that there’s more to this than what you’re able to see, more that’s being hidden beneath the seemingly cracked surface. It could just be your anxious tendencies, telling you to worry when there’s truly nothing to be worried about.

Or, your gut feeling is correct. There’s something you’re not aware of that feels big.

You begin wheeling the now empty cart back to the circulation counter to grab another lot of books, Nat leading the way ahead of the obnoxious wheels. 

“Right,” you answer, deciding to push aside that worry for the time being.

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“Do you have any idea why Jake despises me? Like, has he ever said anything to you or Josh? Or Malachi?” You ask as you fill the cart with the next bundle of books to be put up.

“He doesn’t despise you, y/n. I know his exterior is rough, but there’s not an ounce of hate in that boy's heart. Just give him more time. You’ve seen it, you know he’s a good one.” 

You know deep down that he is, that he’s got a good heart with good intentions. But, there’s something about when he starts to become close to you that forces him to back away, to treat you like you’re a nuisance. He can shove his hatred for you down long enough, until he can’t and it comes out of him like he was accidentally hiding it.

“He does hate me, Nat. You can’t deny the way he acts when I’m around, like I’m the biggest burden that could’ve possibly been placed upon him.” You roughly toss the final book on the cart, wincing at the loud noise it made that you didn’t quite mean to happen. “You didn’t hear the way he spoke to me the other day, Nat. He belittled me in class. I have never been so humiliated and disrespected before in my life. Pretty sure I’m nothing more than walking garbage to him.”

“I hate to interrupt your little drama fest, but you are not the biggest burden in his life. There’s a lot you don’t know about him.” She says, frustration in her tone as she intervenes, slamming a book down on the cart just like you did. “I will stick up for you, y/n. But I also know things about him that you don’t.”

“That’s the problem. I know nothing about him. He doesn’t want me to know him. He’s built this wall around himself and refuses to let me in. He almost did the other night at my apartment, but when he realized he was getting a smidge too close to me, he shut down again. He’s the never ending enigma, one that just so happens to hate my guts.” Your words hang heavy in the air, a tense silence grappling them as you’re left with the realization of just how complex your relationship with Jake is, and it’s not by your choice. 

“I know he can be closed off, and I know he can be an asshole sometimes. Trust me. But you need to know a few things. He’s been through the ringer, multiple times.” She places a comforting hand on your shoulder, stopping you as you begin to walk away to put the books up, silently urging you to consider another perspective. 

“He and his brothers were adopted by their grandparents after their mom and dad were killed in a car accident. Drunk driver. It left all of Frankenmuth completely devastated.”  

His parents.

You’d never even once thought about where they were, or who they were. Being so caught up in your own shit, you hadn’t even considered…

Fuck.

“Their dad was in a local band,” she continues, taking a seat in the rolling chair behind the counter. “They never made it big beyond the area, but god, everyone in town loved them. And when Jake was about ten, he started playing with them. Playing the guitar his dad bought him, the one sitting in his room. He worked his ass off to buy that for Jake. They were killed only a few months after the first time he joined them on stage.”

When she mentioned his guitar, it all of a sudden reminded you of the night at your apartment. The night he became so disgusted by you right before he could finish talking about…

…about his dad. And the guitar he bought him, the very same one Nat is telling you about right now. You know this because you instantly took note of the SG sitting in his room the first night you stepped foot in there, and that’s the exact model he was talking about that night…the one he said defined him as a player, the one his dad searched high and low for. 

Oh my god.

“When they died, they moved in with their grandparents. But they owned an apartment complex in Detroit, so they had to move here with them. That’s when I met them, when they started school at Central High.”

You just nod in response, needing a second to fully absorb her words that are beginning to paint a much clearer picture of Jake. 

“Then, their grandma suddenly died. They were devastated, didn't come to school for weeks.” Her voice softens, her expression reflecting the weight of all the loss they had endured at such young ages. “They had to help their grandpa with the complex, learn how to run the business. Which turned out to be a good thing, because he got sick a few years later. Pancreatic cancer. The boys ended up dropping out of college for a bit to take care of him, to essentially take over acting landlords.” 

“Nat I can’t…I can’t believe it. I had no idea…” Your brain is struggling to process it all. And if it’s that hard for you to imagine, it must have been hell for Jake and his brothers to live it. It was their reality. But to you, it’s utterly heartbreaking. Unfathomable. 

 “They never left his side, especially Jake. He was with him twenty four seven, and when he died, Jake kind of became a recluse.”

The compassion you’re feeling for Jake and his family swells your heart as you’re realizing the depths of his burdens. His guarded nature suddenly makes a lot more sense as everything she’s telling you is fully sinking in. The old saying is true; you truly never know what someone is going through, what someone has been through. 

Regardless of how he’s acted towards you, you’re feeling a lot of guilt for being so quick to judge him. 

“Jake was the only one with him when he died. Matter of fact, he died in the exact same hospital your mom stayed in. I bet it was kind of hard for him to be there, but he stayed for you, y/n. That is the real Jake.”

Jake was committed to you that night. Stayed with you in the hospital that holds so much weight for him. Even in the midst of his own pain, he stayed with you. It explains so much.

“What happened to the complex? After their grandpa died?” 

“They live in it,” she answers with a grin. “They’re landlords. It was their inheritance. And as hard as it was for them to take over ownership as college students, they made it work. The three of them make one hell of a team.” 

You didn’t know what Jake did for work, but owning an apartment complex with his brothers was not on your list of possibilities. An extremely nice complex, at that. 

“Why didn’t any of them mention this to me? I get Jake but, Sam? Josh?” You can’t help the mix of surprise and confusion, wondering why they hadn’t shared such a big part of themselves with you. It’s their job. And you’ve never known anyone to keep something like that from you. 

Although it does make sense if they didn’t want it to lead to a deeper conversation about their losses. Maybe they’re the same as Jake in that aspect. They just don’t like to talk about hard things.  

Then, you remember how you’ve kept your life a secret from them, too. The only reason Jake knows about your mom is because he just happened to be there. But he knows nothing else. Your dad… he hasn’t and will probably never be mentioned with him. With any of them. And it’s not because you’re ashamed; it’s just not something you want broadcasted. 

“They don’t care for the attention it garners,” she explains. “And they probably didn’t want you to treat them any different. The only reason I know about it is because of my brother, and he’s the one that told me everything else about what they’ve been through. They really don’t like to talk about any of this stuff,” she adds, her voice heavy with sympathy. “They don’t want it to define them.”

“I can definitely understand that.” You say with deeply rooted empathy. Your heart aches, for all of them. But, you can deny the extra twinge of softness you feel for Jake. For him to have shoved all of this down the way he has, it’s no wonder he acts the way he does. It doesn’t completely excuse it, but it sure as hell makes a lot of fucking sense. 

The amount of pain they’ve experienced in their lives, losing practically everyone important in their lives. They’re not only bonded by brotherhood, they’re bonded even tighter because of everyone they’ve lost. All of them being so close to them, raising them. They’ve lost almost everyone who was ever important to them, being left with just each other to lean on. It all makes sense, and as much as he’s hurt you, you just can’t bring yourself to keep holding it against him. 

He’s hurting, too. 

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Carrying the third laundry basket up the stairs from the in-building laundry, you’re wondering just how two people have managed to collect so much clothing. You try to designate time each week specifically for laundry, but you’ve gotten so far behind on it that it’s become a little overwhelming. Each basket of clothes you’ve washed and brought back up to the apartment has been overflowing. You’re sure you’ll discover a missing sock or a pair of underwear or two that fell during the journey back to your place, but you’re not about to go back and find out.

You’re finally done washing everything. Now, the worst part: putting it all up. You decide to put that part off for a little while to get caught up on the rest of the chores that need to be done tonight. 

The dishes are next on the list. You usually don’t mind doing them, but your dishwasher decided to quit on you and the landlord is in no hurry to come and fix it. So, you’re stuck hand washing the pile that has somehow accumulated significantly over the last few days. 

With a resigned sigh, you roll up your sleeves and begin scrubbing away at the stack of plates and utensils. The warm water soothes your hands, and you find a sense of rhythm in the repetitive task. 

Your mind starts to drift to the other tasks that still need to be taken care of. The vacuuming, tidying up the living room, perhaps taking out the trash if you can muster up the energy.

But for now, you decide to focus on the task at hand, finding a strange sort of comfort in the motion of washing and rinsing each dish.

Despite the annoyance of hand washing dishes, there's a strange comfort in the routine of it all. With each plate cleaned and set aside to dry, you feel a small sense of accomplishment. 

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You peek around the door frame to see her lying in the same spot she has been for the last few hours, still grazing her plate of food you gave her and watching something mindless on the television. She hasn’t noticed you standing there yet, and just as you’re about to say something, you notice she’s not wearing her oxygen. 

“Mom,” you assert as you storm inside of her room, the frustration in your voice apparent. You grab her nasal cannula sitting on her nightstand and help her put it on. “How long have you not been wearing it?” 

She takes a deep breath as she further adjusts the tube to her face, letting out a dry cough from deep in her chest. “I’m fine, sweetie. I won’t keel over  if I go without it for a little bit. It’s just so invasive, I hate wearing that damn thing.”

“That is not what the doctor said.” You check her tank to be sure she’s getting enough to compensate for however long she’s kept it off. “And based on how horrible your cough sounds, you need it right now. Please, mom. You have to follow their orders. You don’t want a repeat of the other night, do you?”

She sits herself up a bit, as well as she can. Smiling at you and nodding, she says, “I know, I know. Your momma is just a little stubborn sometimes. What would I do without my sweet daughter to take care of me?” You smile back at her, but it quickly fades as you're reminded yet again of the other night and the questionable events that transpired. 

She picks up on your sudden change in expression. “Are you okay, sweetie?” She asks with wary concern. 

You decide that right now is as good a time as any to ask her your burning question. With a heavy breath, you take a seat on the edge of her bed beside her. Clearing your dry throat, you say “I have to ask you something.” 

“Of course, honey. What’s on your mind?” Her eyes watch you with a gentle kindness about them that you’ve always loved about her, but right now, along with the kindness there are a thousand secrets as dark as her pupils. It casts an unease in your spirit that is brand new to you, yet feels oddly familiar all at once. Has it always been there and you’ve just never noticed? Have you just denied it?

You can’t decipher why you’re so nervous to ask her. You shouldn’t be; it’s a simple question. But you feel this heaviness deep within your body that you can’t explain. An intuition that something is awry, perhaps? 

You’ve never once doubted your mom. You’ve always trusted her with everything for the simple fact that she’s never given you cause not to. But you can’t deny that something feels…off. And as she’s looking at you right now, you’re suddenly not sure you recognize the woman sitting before you anymore. Something is different. Everything is different. 

And you don’t know why you feel this way. But you do. And denying it further will only cause you to descend into a maddening cycle of endless wandering.

Her eyes are flicking back and forth between yours, her eyebrows are scrunched and her thin lips are slightly agape. With a curious nod of her head, she quietly signals you to just ask your damn question. 

“Did…” Your tight voice cracks and as she grabs your hand to try and comfort you, you find your voice to continue. “Did you call 911 that night?” The words flow out of your mouth like a river with no end, a strong current that knocks you into the depths of the raging waters. 

Her eyes widen and her mouth falls the rest of the way open. Her hand slowly moves away from yours as her eyes stay steady on you. A look of pure shock washes over her face as she’s quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time. 

“I thought we agreed on Mrs. Sweeney calling.” She finally asserts, her voice suddenly much more strong and clear than it has been in a long time, startling you. “I’m not sure why you’re still on this, y/n.” Her tone is sharp as a blade, penetrating you each time she utters a word. She’s almost defensive, angry. Her eyes are narrowed on yours, unblinking and stilled. 

“I just…you’re right. I’m sorry, I must've forgotten.” You manipulate your tone to sound more sure, more accepting than you truly feel. You decided against telling her about your conversation with Mrs. Sweeney. You’ve a solid feeling it may not go over well if you tell her what was said. There’s a queasy feeling in the pit of your belly telling you to just shut up. A feeling you’ve never felt with your mom before. You’ve always known you could go to her for anything. Right now, you feel like shutting down completely. 

Her gruff features soften back to the way you’re most used to them, her smile taking over her thin scowl. However, the kindness in her eyes that was mixed with secrets earlier, has shifted to the secrets taking command. You don’t know who she is right now. And you’re wondering if you’ve ever truly known.

“It’s okay, honey. I know you’re awfully busy these days. I’m so proud of you.” Her tone has gone back to its weak, hushed quality. What was once a comfort to you, now feels quite the opposite. And something about her compliment felt…forced. Like she only said it as a distraction. And her voice changing on command, like that was forced, too. As if you weren’t feeling off about this whole thing enough, this has made it ten times worse.

Before you can figure out what to say, you catch the time from her nightstand clock out of the corner of your eye. Realizing it’s well after ten o’clock, you immediately step back in your caregiver shoes. It’s over an hour past time for her to take her evening medications. You grab the three bottles sitting next to the clock, dumping one pill out of each in your hand and setting them back down, taking the half-full glass of water in your hand next.

“Take these really quick.” You say as you hand her the pills and the glass. “I’ll get you more water once you’re done.” 

She nods, tossing all three pills in her mouth and downing the rest of her water before handing the glass back to you. 

Standing from the edge of her bed to head to the kitchen, you tell her you’ll be right back with her water. Without a word, she just smiles your way as you walk through the door.

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It’s nearly three in the morning and you’ve still not gone to bed. With as much time as you’ve had to dedicate to your mom, the apartment upkeep, work, and filming all while attempting to maintain a rather poor excuse for a social life, school and homework have been on the very bottom of your priority list. And that is very much not like you. Your grades have suffered the last few weeks. You’re falling behind, nearing the point of no return. So, sleep isn’t much of an option right now. Hasn’t been for several nights. It’s the only time you’ve got to do something for yourself. Even something as grueling as English homework. 

Tonight's task is to complete your paper on Carmilla for your Classic Horror course, but the words aren’t flowing as seamlessly as they should. As much as you want to be able to focus, you just can’t. You can only manage to get out a few sentences at a time before you have to stop and regather your train of thought. You keep checking your phone, scrolling through mindless social media, getting up to get a drink, anything that might keep you from this rather daunting task.

Your frustration with yourself is growing by the minute. You have to get this done by Monday, and you’re nowhere near finished. There’s hardly a conceivable thought typed on your word document and you don’t see yourself being able to form one anytime soon.

The ever burdening worry is all the more present after your talk with your mom. The way she acted when you asked your question, how her entire demeanor changed to one that made her unrecognizable to you…The questions are persistent, their relevance feeling more palpable than before.

As you start typing out your second paragraph, you’ve suddenly come to a realization that keeps you from continuing…

If she’s hiding that she did call for the ambulance, she would’ve had to use her cell phone. That call would still show up in her log, and although you don’t believe in invading someone's personal space, you just need to know. Odds are, she’s right. She didn’t call, and you’ll probably find absolutely nothing in her phone to indicate that she did. But at least you’ll know. And you can check it off your list of possibilities. You’ll be able to confirm that she wasn’t lying to you. (Because she wouldn’t do that…right?)

You’ve decided that checking her phone is the only way you’ll be able to put this whole thing to rest. Is it the right thing to do? Absolutely not. But you can’t focus until you know. 

Her door is always left open just in case something happens, you can hear her easier. So, with a light step, you walk inside her mostly dark room. Her television is quietly playing some old Western film you know you’ve seen a dozen times, but you can’t decipher which one it is. Some desert battle with horses and weapons flashes on the screen, the light illuminating the room in eerie beams. 

She’s fast asleep. Her oxygen tank is a steady hum against the low volume of the film, her breathing heavy but not labored.

Her phone rests on the nightstand closest to the wall, plugged into the charging cord. As you lift and touch the screen, you’re reminded of the fact that she keeps a six digit code to keep it locked. A code that you don’t know.

Although, you’ve got a hunch. With shaky thumbs, you type out the month, day and year of your birthday.

It worked. You’re in. 

Your eyes quickly shift to her sleeping form to be sure that she is still asleep. She’s situated on her back, her head rolled over on the pillow facing you. Her eyes aren’t open, and she’s not moved since you’ve been in here. You make haste in locating her call log and scrolling all the way to the date she landed herself in the emergency room. 

…and she was right. 

There are no 911 calls anywhere on her log. Not even a call made to the hospital…nothing. But as you take a closer look, there is something amiss. 

It was just after 1:30 in the morning when you and Jake arrived at your apartment to the chaotic scene. There’s an outgoing call that was made at 1:16…just minutes before the ambulance must have arrived. She was completely unresponsive when they found her, so how did she…? And why didn’t she call you?

The contact name is only adding to your questions. It’s a name you can’t place, and it’s an odd one.

Dodger.

Who the fuck is Dodger?

You don’t know a single person with that name…not that you can think of right away, at least. 

Whoever this Dodger is, might be the person responsible for the ambulance call. If not them, then who else? And the fact that she was on the phone with them right before…

Finding out the area code might give you some clue as to who this is. If nothing else, you’ll at least have an idea of where they live. After tapping the information icon to the right, you’re shocked when you see the three digits that tell you this is an Oklahoma number. 

There’s no one back home that she’s kept in touch with since the move. At least, not that you know of. She didn’t have many friends. None, actually. She spent all of her either time at home or, when your dad left, with you. Your mind is empty at trying to conjure up a single person she’d need to call from back home. You stare at the screen for a moment, trying your best to make sense of what you see before you. But you just can’t.

You need to call this number. But not with her phone, so you text yourself the contact information and delete the text from her phone so she won’t know. 

And as you’re in her text messages, you decide to see if she and Dodger ever text each other. But, there’s nothing. You’re quite literally the only person she texts, making this whole thing all the more strange. 

You place her phone back on the nightstand, checking on her once more before you quietly walk away. But before you do, something catches your eye. Her glass of water. It’s empty. You may as well fill it for her so she has it in case she wakes up thirsty. As you pick it up, something else catches your eye. Something far more alarming than an empty glass. 

You see the pills you gave her earlier, the ones you saw her swallow down. Or, at least you thought she did. But she didn’t. The three pills you gave her are sitting behind the glass, hidden from plain out of plain view. Had you not moved the glass, you wouldn’t have seen them. 

Suddenly, you’re remembering how the doctor was convinced that she hadn’t been taking them, asking you suspiciously if she had been. 

And you told him yes. Of course she’d been taking them, why wouldn’t she? 

You give them to her every night. You watch her take them every night. But if you thought she took them tonight when she actually didn’t, does that mean…that she never takes them? 

You can't bring yourself to believe that. You don’t even want to believe it. There’s an explanation. Has to be. 

She wouldn’t do that to herself, to you as her number one caregiver. She’s told you time and time again that she wants you to live your life for you, not for her. She’s said that she hates relying on you, but loves that she can. 

No, she wouldn’t do that. She would know to take her medications, because they make her better. And she wants to get better. For her and for you, like she’s said since she got sick in the first place. 

But it doesn’t explain…

…she really hasn’t been taking her pills.

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The cold, wet hair hitting your back makes you shiver before you wrap it up in a towel, taking the matching one to wrap up your soaking wet body. You decided to take an ‘everything’ shower before filming tonight, completing all of your deep conditions and skin scrubs. This is the most refreshed you’ve felt in weeks.

Tonight will be your last intimate scene with Sam, black lace dress included. And also your first with Jake. This will be the first time you’ll share the screen with him as your fictional ‘husband and wife’ characters. But there will be no loving sentiment between them on the screen. 

No. Tonight, Arthur will catch Guinevere in the middle of the act with her beloved Lancelot, his closest companion and best comrade. It’s going to be one of the most intense scenes within the entire project. 

According to what Josh has written in the script, Arthur will walk in on Guinevere and Lancelot making love, thus beginning the downfall of his reign due to his all consuming desires to get rid of Lancelot. 

Something else Josh wrote into the script is that Arthur and Lancelot have quite the heated argument over who is more deserving of their precious Guin. All the while, she is laid out on Lancelot's bed, clad in her most scandalous attire in front of both men whose need for her will end their relationship in one of the worst ways imaginable. Arthur will take one look at his wife, her body nearly on full display before them both, the most intimate gift that she’s offered his once closest confidant. He will then immediately order the death of Sir Lancelot for treason as he has committed one of the most heinous crimes against the king. 

Lancelot won’t argue, as he believes his time with Guinevere, however short, is enough to sustain him, even in death. She was worth it, she is worth it. And he will force Arthur to look upon her and realize the treasure in her that he has taken for granted. He will beg the king to at last show her the love she deserves once he is gone and no longer can. 

Suffice to say, tonight's scene is a big one. It serves as a catalyst for a lot of significant plot points. And you’re hoping that everything you’ve learned about acting thus far will suffice for the heaviness expected from you and your fellow actors. The hard part about this scene for you is the lack of dialogue. Once Arthur becomes privy to the affair between the two, Guinevere stays silent for the most part save for a few lines. Meaning you’ll be relying heavily on your body to convey her every emotion and thought, which you’ve found to be far more challenging than speaking a few lines with a manipulated voice.

Manipulating your body without a single word is a different thing altogether. To be able to convey emotions without speaking is something you’re not the most confident in, on and off  the screen.

But something happens to you once you put your costume on. You become someone else, someone you’ve always wished you could be. And with Jake being present, you’re sure you’ll have a little added inspiration. But that means you’ll be trying a little harder to look nice for tonight's filming session. Hence the ‘everything’ shower that felt like it took literal ages to complete, but felt so incredibly wonderful. (And also felt rather necessary.)

With your body now only a little damp, you remove your towel to start lathering yourself up in your favorite body lotion, fragrant with notes of wild lavender and chamomile, then taking your frenshe body oil in vanilla cashmere and massaging it all over your skin, focusing a little more on your neck and chest, even adding a little to inner thighs. These scents make for the perfect, seductive aroma, and your skin feels so soft, so alluring. Perfect for tonight.

Normally, you’d shy away from looking at yourself in the mirror, especially your nude form. Yet here you are, scrutinizing your reflection, noting each and every tiny thing that you wish you could alter. The years that you’ve spent hiding…years. 

It’s hard to look at your body when it’s not covered by the sweaters that are two sizes too big. You’re forced to accept your body, to accept the things you hate that you’ve felt the need to cover with a security blanket ever since you were a child. 

You stand to the side to see just how much your tummy is pooched from the apple cinnamon oatmeal you ate this morning. It could all be in your head, but you’re almost sure you can see the bloat from your tiny meal. You turn around completely, looking back for the crinkles of cellulite that you know are present in your ass. 

They’re there. Just as you suspected. You’re sure no model. No perfect ‘beauty queen’... 

…no Stacy. 

Fuck. How could anyone find you attractive when you’re so mortified by your own reflection? 

The voice in your head is loud and overpowering. It’s screaming louder than the voice that talked to you through recovery. 

You’re in such a strange place.

While your confidence in yourself has arguably never been higher, the urge to relapse has grown right along with it. Maybe it’s because you’ve suddenly found a version of yourself that you can appreciate. A version of yourself that you’ve always longed for. But she can’t be found in your real life. 

No. She only makes her appearance when you’re pretending to be someone else. She isn’t you.

She lives within you, but she isn’t you. 

You grab the towel and quickly cover yourself back up with it, not wanting to spiral even deeper into your insecurities when you’re supposed to be playing a confident, beautiful queen in a few hours. 

You’ll be fine once you put the dress on, you tell yourself. Please, please don’t do this. Not right now. 

You know shoving down the thoughts, ignoring them with a temporary fix, isn’t the answer. But you can’t deal with it right now. You don’t have time. You don’t have the mental space for it. 

You’ll deal with it later. It can wait. 

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Josh’s room is the set tonight, and it looks incredible. The bed is adorned with a white satin duvet, with red and white rose petals scattered all over. This is your throne for the night, where you’ll be lying for the entire duration of the scene. 

Josh’s walls are painted white, but he and Malachi have worked pure magic with the lighting that has given them a dark red hue. You thought they had actually painted them when you walked in, but Josh showed you the lights, the “wonders of cinematic sorcery,” as he called it. It looks like a brand new room, it looks so good. 

Jake was right when he told you his brother is one hell of a director. Everything he does feels professional. You just know you’ll see Josh’s name alongside the likes of Tarantino and Scorsese someday. His talent and eye for putting together the best scenes will get him far. And Malachi will be right alongside him, designing the perfect costumes for Josh’s films. A dynamic duo, those two. 

But if you’re honest with yourself, the beauty and eroticism of the set has you even more nervous for this scene. You just hope that you can do this set justice and not fuck it all up. It deserves some of the best acting you can offer Josh. You don’t want to let him down with your insecurities that have been weighing so heavily all day. 

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“I still can’t believe it,” Nat says as you’ve just finished applying the final layer of Ben Nye to your secret ink. (You still can’t get over the fact that Sam now knows about it. Not what you wanted, but there’s nothing you can do now. It’s done. It just feels strange that something so personal is now not as personal as you intended for it to be.)

As you dab a little finishing powder over the foundation, you turn your head over your shoulder to Natalia, who’s sitting crisscrossed in the center of Jake’s bed. “Believe what?” you ask her, snorting a chuckle. 

“Your sexy little tattoo, that’s what.” Her beautiful face wears that contagious smile of hers, her right eye throwing you a sly wink. “I would’ve never suspected it when I met you. You’re just full of secrets, aren’t you?” 

You have no idea. 

“Guess you could say that.” You huff a giggle while you secure all of Josh’s makeup back in his bag. Still to this day, he’s yet to ask you what it’s for. Odds are, he thinks you just need a little extra coverage for your face. It doesn’t seem he suspects a thing. (You’re just hoping Sam keeps his mouth shut about this unrevealed aspect of yourself.) 

“Do you think you’ll ever get anymore?” She questions as she’s handing you your gown. 

“Thank you, babe,” you tell her, taking the garment bag from her. “And I don’t know, I’ve not really put too much thought into it.” She helps you secure the hook and eye in the back of the dress, holding your hair over your shoulder so it’s not in her way. “I was pretty drunk when I got this one. But I do love it. So, maybe. It makes me feel mysterious, you know?” 

With the dress fastened, you stand in front of the mirror and adjust a few things. The thing you’re always the most concerned about with this costume is the chest area, naturally. If you situate the lace just right over your breasts, there’s not quite a full view of your intimate area. But there’s still enough to add a little sensuality to it. 

“Damn, y/n.” Nat says, her eyes trailing your chest as you get yourself adjusted just the way you like. 

“What?” You say through a giggle. 

“Oh, nothing,” she says. You can see her devious grin in her reflection of the mirror in front of you as she’s pulling your hair off your shoulder, smoothing out the kinks. “Just that Danny’s lucky he snatched me up when did.” Her golden eyes lock with your reflection as she winks and chuckles. “You’re just too gorgeous, girl.” 

You playfully roll your eyes as you both break out in a fit of giggles. (You wish everyone saw you that way. Jake, mostly.) With a final onceover of your liquid lipstick, blotting your lips and cleaning up the edges, you feel you’re about as ready as you can be for tonight's scene. 

“Well, he better watch his back,” you say, opening Jake’s door and walking through the threshold, Nat following close behind. “I could still steal you away.” More laughter sounds from you two as you head down the hallway, walking past the living room and up the staircase to the loft.

Danny is waiting at the top of the stairs, and when Nat makes it up to him, his toned arms wrap her in a full hug. “What are you two laughing about?” He asks, planting a sweet kiss to her temple.

Neither one of you says a word as you throw a silent wink towards Nat, letting the laughter bubbling within you both burst through yet again. 

“What?” He insists. 

Without an explanation, the two of you lock arms and proceed to the film set, leaving him still asking what the commotion is all about, but letting him sit in his wonder while you walk away together.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

“You ready for this?” Sam whispers to you, his face mere inches from yours. With you splayed out on your back, and he perched on his side right next to you, arm draped across your body, you’re positioned just the way Josh had in mind for the beginning of the shoot.

His smile, infectious and beautiful as always, warms your soul (and your body) and has you feeling very much at ease as you mentally prepare for this scene. You haven’t filmed with him in a while, and you’ve been so busy with the utter shitshow your life has been lately that you’ve just not been able to see him much. Feeling him this close to you again after all this time, you’d hate to admit just how nice it feels. 

It feels really fucking nice. You hadn’t realized how bad you missed it, how bad you missed him.

“I think so,” you mutter, smiling at him while he looks at you with heavy, lust filled eyes. “But, are you ready?”

He brushes a stray strand of hair from your face, tucking it lovingly behind your ear with a peculiar smirk across his lips. You can’t see Jake, but you can hear the prolonged sigh from his lips as he’s positioned just outside the bedroom door, awaiting his cue to barge in on the two of you. 

“I think you already know the answer to that,” he confirms, sending off his words with a wink before he shifts his attention to your director.. “I think we’re good to go, Josh!”

Josh confirms with a nod of his head, gesturing a thumbs up to Malachi to dim the overhead lighting and giving Danny the “okay” to shine a little spotlight on the bed you’re on. 

“Scene 73, take one.” He doesn’t yet have a cue card, so with (a rather loud) clap of his hands, he yells, “ACTION!”

As soon as the scene begins, you’re fully encompassed by your alter, the ever sought after Queen Quiniverre. Every insecurity, every doubt, all but washes away once Josh says the word. You’re not you anymore; you feel as though everything you hate about yourself doesn’t exist within this realm. You’re not you, and Guinevere would never be insecure about the things that you are. 

And that’s exactly what inspires you to be the best Guinevere that you can be. You wish, more than anything, that you had her confidence. But even if you don’t have it, she does. And at least you can know what it’s like, even if the moments are short. 

Once Sam says his few words of dialogue, he leans in to envelop you in a passionate kiss full of burning desire. Bodies tangled, hands searching one another; a moment of pure ecstasy shared between two secret lovers, bound together by a love so deceitful to the King. 

And then, you hear him. He walks through the threshold with heavy feet, his breathing stern and labored. 

“I thought I knew better than to heed Mordred's vile words of my first in command. And yet, I find that I needn’t worry of his lies, only those of my beloved and her dearest, both of whom betray their King.” 

He unsheathes his sword, a motion to take Lancelot for himself. To battle to the death for their prize who lie in the bed before them. 

…his voice. 

It echoes throughout the entire room, the entire apartment. The anger he’s displaying is being pulled from somewhere deep within him, exhibiting itself through the King as he’s finally privy to his wife's infidelity. The volume nearly startles you from your position on the bed. You didn’t expect such vibrancy from him, such passion to be exuded through him. He’s speaking his dialogue perfectly, acting through it as though he’s done it a hundred times over. He’s still using his accent, but it’s believable this time. It’s coming through much more powerful than the last time you heard it. 

“My once most trusted comrade, you must die at my hands for treason. The highest crime against your king, to lay with his precious Guinevere, deserves no less than a death of the highest order.” 

His accent, where it was once convincing and accurate, has now begun to falter under the pressure of the scene. He’s beginning to sound less like the betrayed king, and more like an pissed off Jake.  

He continues to hold his sword out firm, glaring at Lancelot with a fiery anger from the depths of his soul, until he shifts them to you. The same anger geared towards you, only it doesn’t feel as though it’s Arthur looking at Guinevere, it’s more like Jake looking at you. And the extent of it is making you more uncomfortable as the seconds (that feel more like hours) are passing without a word from either of them. 

It’s supposed to be Sam’s turn to speak, but it’s likely that he’s caught on to the tension pouring from Jake, and the tensions that lie in the space between you and him. 

“Sam!” Jake screams, causing you to jolt from the sheer volume. “Say your fucking line so we can get this over with and I can get the fuck away from all of you!”

“Woah, woah,” Josh interjects, motioning for Malachi to turn the lights back on as he cuts the camera. “What the fuck, Jake? What’s your problem?”

Jake tosses his sword to the floor, taking off his cloak and throwing it towards Josh who hardly has enough warning to catch it. “This, Josh. This is my fucking problem!” Jake fumes, gesturing his flexed arms towards you and Sam as you’re both struck silent by his sudden outburst. “I can’t perform with this, I won’t.” 

You look to Sam as he blinks a few times, as if suddenly being pulled out of his state of utter shock at his brother's actions. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Sam challenges, getting up from his position and leaving you there by yourself. 

Danny grabs Nat’s arm to take her out of the room, and she’s waving for you to join her. But you don’t want to leave, not yet. You don’t normally stick around for a full blown, Kiszka fight. But you have to hear what Jake is going to say for yourself. 

“It means, Sam, that I can’t stand working with you,” he looks to you, still on the bed but now in an upright position as you watch the scene unfold before you. “Or her.” 

What the fuck–?

Josh is pleading with him to calm down, but he won’t have it. He brushes him off when his twin offers a comforting hand to his arm. 

“Fuck this goddamn film and fuck every single one of you that has anything to do with it! It’s fucking bullshit. I’m sorry, Josh. I’m fucking done.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You can’t take it any longer. You storm out after him, heedless of everyone else, ignoring their presence and pushing your way through to reach him. 

He slams his door but you waste no time in opening it immediately after, refusing to let him shut you or anyone else out after such a blow-up.

There’s not much light in his room, save for the lamp in the corner shining a warm hue on the space. The calming aura of his room means nothing in comparison to the tensions between you two— the ever growing tensions that now feel sharper than any blade.

He stands facing his bed, his back turned to you. As soon as you enter the room and shut the door behind you, he quickly turns on his heel to face you. And he does not look pleased, his features etched with irritation. But you continue to stand your ground, not willing to budge anytime soon.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” He growls, deep enough for your bones to feel it. His cheeks are flushed and there’s sweat accumulated between his knitted brows. That familiar flare of his nostrils makes an appearance and his lips are pursed in a tight scowl.

Normally, you’d cower down to anyone who’d find it in themselves to speak to you this way. You’d hide yourself, hide your feelings, stay quiet and out of the way. Give into them to keep the peace. But right now, fuck keeping the goddamn peace. You’ve kept it for far too long at this point and you’re done allowing yourself to be invisible any longer.

“My clothes are in here and I need to change since you selfishly decided that filming is over for the night,” you simper back, your volume challenging his. “And I’m also here to figure out what the fuck your problem with me is!”

His furious stare is penetrating your very soul, his eyes the darkest you’ve yet to see them. His fists are clenched and his biceps are bulging so much you’re just waiting for the chainmail sleeves to give way. 

But you’ve never seen him look better. 

“Problem?” He begins closing the short distance between you, practically stomping across the carpeted floor, flailing his arms about as he speaks. “What the fuck are you talking about?” The heat behind his tone grows stronger and stronger, his gaze on you darkening by the second. 

You refuse to break eye contact while you snicker and shake your head at him playing stupid with you. He knows exactly what you’re talking about. But he’s clearly choosing to play dumb with you, acting like he hasn’t put you on a fucking roller coaster with him since the day he was shoved into your already messy life. If he wants to keep playing games with you, then you have no problem playing your own against him. 

You’re still in your revealing attire, your breasts nearly on full display, the entirety of your form leaving next to nothing to the imagination— to Jake's imagination. You’re privy to his numerous glances at your breasts. You won’t pretend you’re not, and you can’t hold back the satisfied, devious curl of your lips each time you catch his gaze. You should find the urge to cover up, to hide yourself or wait until you can change to confront him.

But that’s not what you intend to do. Wearing this dress brings out a part of you that you’ve come to cherish— it cloaks you in a confident aura that you’ve lacked all your life. And as much as he tries to pretend it means nothing to him, you know the effect this dress has on him. You’ve seen it firsthand for yourself. He can try to hide it all he wants, but you and him both know what it did to him the first time he saw you wearing it in this very room. You may as well use that to your advantage right now. 

You feel powerful, in control. Those doubtful thoughts you were having earlier tonight about yourself have lowered their volume nearly to a full mute. If he can’t handle talking to you like this, then he can’t handle you.

“You’re fine with me one minute,” you huff a snarky giggle, standing firm and refusing to bring your arms up to cover yourself, even with his continuous gazing.“Then you act like you can’t stand my very existence the next. I’m just fucking confused, Jake. If you hate me so goddamn much, why don’t you ask me to leave? You don’t need me to do this fucking film. Why don’t you find some other unsuspecting girl and rid yourself of me once and for all?”

With as much of yourself as you’ve invested in this film, and the new found sense of self-assurance being in front of Josh’s camera has given you, you don’t want to quit this project. If walking away was truly what you wanted, you would have done so a long time ago. And deep down, you want to believe that if Jake truly wanted you to leave, he would’ve demanded it already. But right now, all you can think about is that conversation you overheard weeks ago. 

“I only asked her because I had to…I was not about to work on something alone with her.” 

It’s something you’ve not let yourself forget. Even after everything he’s done for you— helping you with your mom, staying the night with you when it felt like your world was crumbling— none of it seems to matter because of  his words that linger in your mind like a never ending echo. He wouldn’t have said them if he didn’t feel them. That much, you’re certain of.

And after what he said to you in class…it was a harsh reality that you weren’t ready to face. He validated your deepest fears of not belonging, of not being accepted. Every hurtful thing he’s ever said about you, each cutting remark he’s said to you are repeating relentlessly in your head. 

“I don’t hate you, y/n!” He shouts through gritted teeth. He takes a few steps towards you, leaving only inches of space between your bodies. His eyes are still fixed in their vexed glare, yet there’s something different behind their darkened gaze. “I don’t hate you.”

“Then…” Your voice is shaky as you try to raise it. You have to look up at him to see his face, he is so close to you. Your trembling body begins fighting against your accusatory words. “Then why did you say you only asked me because you had to? That you didn’t want to work on something alone with me?” Of everything he’s ever done to you, those words hurt the most.

“Because I can’t…” He throws his arms up in frustration, shaking his head as he looks away from you. “...I can’t trust myself to be alone with you. And I can’t fucking stand it when—” He stops himself before he can continue, his index and thumb tightly gripping his chin, almost and if to physically stop himself. 

“You can’t stand what, Jake?” Your anger surges, overpowering everything else. Your vision blurs and your limbs are tingling with pure rage. “What the fuck do I do that you can’t stand so badly?” 

He snaps his head towards you, his loose waves, making a luscious display around his handsome face. “I can’t stand seeing you with him.” He points to the photo on his dresser, the one of him and his brothers. The one with Sam. “You think it’s fucking easy for me to see you with him like that? Especially knowing what happened between you two the night we all went to the stupid fucking haunted house.” 

Now you’re pissed. Not only is his reasoning ridiculous, he’s also accusing you of something that didn’t happen. This isn’t your fault. None of this is. And for him to treat you like shit because of that?

“You don’t know shit, Jake!” Your voice rises to a near scream, letting go of any pretense of holding back. “Nothing happened that night, and even if it had, why the hell do you care? What makes you think you have any right to be pissed about anything that I do? I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you; this is your fault! So your reasoning is, frankly, complete bullshit. And I’m not buying any of it.” You’re yelling so loudly your voice is cracking and breaking, your words reverberating with raw, pissed off emotion. No one has ever provoked you to this level of anger. No one except your dad, when he decided out of the fucking blue to leave you. You hate that he’s brought out this side of you. “You act like that because you can’t stand the very thought of me,” you continue. “Just tell me you want nothing more to do with me and I’ll walk right out that door. You’ll never have to see me again.”

He stands still for a while, silently staring at the floor. He brings his hand up to rub his chin, something you’ve seen him do a hundred times, when his mind is racing about something. Josh almost always points it out. He does it a lot during filming, during your scenes with Sam. Especially during the ones when you’re wearing the very outfit you’re standing before him in right now. 

Then, he takes two more steps, until he’s close enough to you that you can feel his heaving breaths against your already heated skin. His demeanor has changed. He doesn’t seem angry anymore. The way he’s looking down at you…he now seems desperate. 

“I can’t stand the way he looks at you…the way you look at him,” he whispers, his eyes traveling the curve of your breasts as his lungs deflate letting out a deep sigh. His eyelids have become heavy over his whiskey colored eyes that flick back to yours. “I can’t stand it…because I wish it were me.” His voice, once harsh and furious, is now a deep, hushed whisper. It’s low, gravelly in pitch. 

It’s fucking sexy. But you’re still not convinced. You need more. You’re sick of thinking he likes you for a split second, then pulling himself away when he feels you’re getting too close. 

No. Not this time. If he pulls away again, you’re done. Out the door. Gone from his life and free to live yours without him and this film. You’ll take a failing grade if it means you don’t have to go through this anymore.

“I don’t believe you, Jake.” Your words are stern, but your body language begins deceiving your cold statement. You’re trembling, vibrating through to your very core. No matter how pissed you are, you can’t fight this incessant attraction you’ve felt for him for a long time now. You fought fiercely in the beginning, had completely convinced yourself that he was nothing more than a handsome jerk who harbored feelings of distaste towards you. 

But fuck. That made you want him more. His mystery, his demeanor. The kindness that seeped through every now and again. Nat was right; you’d always known it was there. His genuine heart is sometimes too strong to stay masked behind this rough act he's tried to uphold. It's broken before you enough times to know that it’s there. And maybe it’s because of you that it's breaking more and more. His guard is falling. That’s why you’re so fucking pissed that he’s fighting every second to keep it up. And what you just said…it's not that you don’t believe him. A big part of you does. You’ve seen the way he looks at you, the way he was completely dumbfounded the first time he saw you in this lace dress. The way he seethes when you’re with Sam. On camera or not. 

But right now, you need to fucking see it. To see that side of him that you know is buried within. It’s not enough to simply hear his words; you need him to prove it to you. You’re tired of the back and forth with him. This is his opportunity to show you what ever the fuck it is that he wants from you.

There’s a look of confliction as his hand reaches out to you tentatively, his fingers playing with the lace on your shoulder. They move, hovering just inches over your collar bone before his fingertips delicately skate over the skin with such a gentle, intentional touch. Your breath catches in your throat, your heart pounding as you feel the warmth of his touch.

“I’ve wanted to touch you…” His fingers follow the curve of your neck, passing over your pulse point, tracing a path along the curve of your jawline. “...just like this since the day I fucking laid eyes on you. And seeing my brother get to do it…” Your bottom lip is lightly tugged by the pad of his thumb, smearing the dark lipstick. “...it eats me up inside, y/n. I don’t think I can watch him kiss these lips one more time.” His focus is now entirely fixed on your lips, as his tongue gracefully glides over his own. Your craving for him intensifies with every passing moment. Each second fuels the fiery need within you.

“Then…why don’t you just do it?” The words fall straight from your mouth before you can even think twice about saying them, hanging in the air that’s slowly shifting from an angry tension to a much different kind. Your eyes lock yet again, each of you silently pleading with the other to bridge this divide between you once and for all.

With one hand still caressing your face and finding the small of your back, he pulls you flush against him, holding you tight against his warm body. He leans in, his lips brushing over yours, a feather-light caress that steals your breath. 

And as if you’re pulled together by an invisible tether, your lips finally meet. 

It starts slow, almost hesitant. But the intensity begins growing as your emotions are spilling over, fueling the kiss with a passion that is closer to desperation. His hand finds your hair, tangling your soft locks as he pulls you even closer, deepening your embrace with a hunger born of a longing that’s finally being set free.

You can feel his walls crumbling before you, letting break through his barrier. The insurmountable distance that was created between you, not only physically but emotionally, has at last been closed. 

His tongue glides across your teeth, drawing your bottom lip firmly between his. He serenades your mouth with the most beautiful melody, eliciting a yearning that forces your thighs to come together in an attempt to soothe the desire pulsing between them.

He tastes like the sweetest honey infused bourbon. His lips are soft, putting the most sumptuous velvet to shame. 

The hand resting on your back glides upward along your torso, stopping just before he reaches your heaving breast. His lips break from yours before he tugs on the hair at the nape of your neck, fully exposing the expanse to him. 

“Jake…” You start, but he’s already so attuned to your desires that you don’t have to say another word before his mouth meets your taut skin. His tongue traces along your neck, stopping to suckle the skin. A strained moan sounds from deep within you, eliciting a sensual snicker, reveling in the response he’s drawing from you.

“You smell so good,” he mumbles against you, sealing his compliment with a kiss. As if you’re not falling apart enough, you nearly melt into him when his hand finally caresses over your full breast. “This okay? Can I touch you here?” He whispers softly in the shell of your ear, his words both a question and a promise of his respect for you.

“Please, Jake, more” you whimper through heaving breaths. 

He groans deeply against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as he teases your hardened nipple through the flimsy lace. You practically cry out for him, your body squirming with anticipation, begging him for more. He shushes you gently. “I’ve only just begun,” he whispers, his index finger tracing slow circles over your sensitive bud. “Let me take my time with you.”

He pinches your nipple, playful smirk gracing his lips as he chases the sounds escaping your parted mouth. 

You clutch his biceps tight, anchoring him to you to keep him from slipping away. He hisses as your nails dig into his skin, only igniting his desire for you.

“Do you believe me yet?” He whispers, his lips grazing your jawline.

While there’s not an ounce of lingering suspicion within you, you dare to toy with him a little further.

“Nuh uh, not yet.” You respond quietly, your body betraying you as your desire is displayed physically. He can sense it, and the mischievous grin curved on his lips assures you he’s privy to your little game.

“Feel how much I want you.” And with that, his hand takes yours, guiding it to his pulsing cock that’s straining against his black pants, imploring you to feel the undeniable need he has for you.

He throbs beneath your touch as you palm him through the satin fabric that still conceals him, keeping in time with your own racing heart. His breath hitches, he whimpers beautifully in your ear as you continue to feel him, and if it were even possible, he’s becoming even harder against your touch, desperate to remove the confines of his pants.

“Holy fuck, Jake…” 

Your legs press together once more at the feeling of him, his sheer size and thickness that is obvious even through the barrier between you. All you can think about is how he’d feel nestled away deep inside of you, filling you with every inch. He’s massive, that much you can tell, even through the barrier.

“Yeah?” He hums through heavy breaths. “That’s all for you, love.”

His words have your arousal nearly dripping down your thighs, your body growing more impatient by the second.

“Lay down for me,” he mutters in your ear. “Just like you were for the scene. Only this time, for me.” 

His words, almost possessive in their wake, leave you speechless and craving him even more. He lightly motions you in the direction of his bed, keeping his eyes locked with yours. 

Once you lie down, just as you did just moments ago, he positions himself at the end of the bed while he looks at you, taking in the vision before him. 

Normally, you wouldn’t have half the confidence for a moment such as this, and it’s for that very reason you’re glad  you’re in this very dress. It’s been the source of most confident moments as of late; it only makes sense that you’re wearing it in real life with Jake. 

As he begins to remove his chainmail top, you tremble at seeing him so bare. You’d seen it before, but not like this. This time, he’s taking it off for you, removing yet another barrier that exists between the two of you. 

You’re breathless at the sight of him. His pecs, sculpted and chiseled, rising and falling with his deep breaths. The smooth expanse of his unflawed skin, begging to be touched and explored. And his broad, sturdy shoulders that beckon you to sink your nails into, to keep a tight grip against while he’s on top of you. 

“Look at you,” he mutters, his eyes tracing every curve  of your body as he climbs onto the bed, hovering over you as though he’s not done looking at you just yet. “You’re a fucking queen,” he whispers, his voice husky and filled with desire. Finally, he leans in, his lips meeting yours with a tender gentleness, leaving you yearning for more as he lifts away again just slightly. “A beautiful queen.” 

He kisses you once again, this time hungrier than the last. His hands roam your body with a newfound intensity, each touch igniting a fire within you that leaves your body arching towards him, begging for more. More of him.

His lips trail down your neck, leaving a path of kisses along your skin as his body slowly lowers down yours. You suck in a deep gasp as his warm, wet tongue follows a slow trail from your belly button, gliding all the way up to your chest, tracing along the curve of your breast. 

His lips suck a mark right where his tongue stops, leaving a bruise right where the fabric ends along your chest.

“So pretty,” he mumbles against the bruise his lips left on your taut skin, marveling at his work. “All marked up from me. Want to mark you up everywhere…”

His focus seems deliberate, as if he’s determined to leave his mark where it will be most visible during your scenes, his attention fixed solely on the skin peeking out amidst the black lace. 

“This…will be hard to cover up for filming, Jake…” you utter, breathless from your purely aroused state. 

“No,” he whispers between leaving his mark right in the middle of your breasts. “Don’t cover them. Let them see.”

Before you can continue your weak protest, he carefully pushes back the lace over your left breast, fully unveiling it before him. He shushes you as his lips instantly attach to your perked nipple, sucking it deep within his mouth, softly nibbling at it all while his hand removes the lace from your right breast, kneading the flesh between his fingers.

But as he does so, you feel your body begin to tense when you discover his fingers are all over the area covered with makeup. The area with your tattoo. It feels too fucking good to make him stop, but that same feeling that overcame you when Sam unsuspectingly saw it is blazing within you. 

Once you shift your eyes to his hand, you notice the makeup smeared almost completely, the red ink bleeding through to present itself, even if you aren’t ready for it to.

“Jake I…” 

But it’s too late. As he lifts to switch his attention to your right breast, he sees it. His eyes are fixed on your etched secret, mouth lazily agape at this small piece of you he’s discovering for the first time. 

“H…holy fuck,” he stammers, leaning in to peck his lips against the word along the tender spot. “This is so sexy I just…” he brings up his finger, tracing the “R”, then the “E”, the “D”

“Do you like it?” you ask him, feeling a rush of confidence wash over you.

Your initial hesitation has all but vanished. It's so different with Jake…something about the way he makes you feel, the way he brings out this part of you that no one else does. Not even Sam.

“I love this, y/n,” his lips meet the ink once more, decorating it with wet kisses. 

“I…I’ve always been so scared for people to see…” Your words would hardly be legible if he wasn’t so close to you. Your mumbled tone is evidence of how he’s affecting you, what he’s doing to you. “... and it’s not exactly accurate for the film,” you mutter through a weak chuckle.  

“Does anyone else know?” he quietly implores. “Does Sam know?” 

“No.” 

The word flies out of you before you can even take a second to think about it. It’s a lie. Sam does know. But that doesn’t matter to you right now. And Jake doesn’t need to know of what you almost did with his brother in a shitty attempt to get to him. 

“Only Natalia knows.”

“Good,” he mumbles between leaving more kisses along your breast, slowly creeping closer towards your erect nipple.“Let’s keep it that way.”

His tongue lightly flicks the sensitive bud, drawing languid circles around it while his fingers follow the same motion of the other breast.

With the way his body is positioned between your legs, you can’t close your thighs together to ease the ache between them. It doesn’t stop you from trying, though, and when he notices, he grins against your supple flesh, looking up at you to see your completely fucked out state. He understands what you need without a word, and he begins to shift his body even further down your own, keeping your legs spread and his mouth trailing down your flesh, until his face is nearly level with your throbbing core. 

The slit in your dress proves to be quite convenient at the moment, enabling your legs to spread easily while the only coverage you have is from the thong that perfectly matches your skin tone.

As his lips brush against your inner thigh, his warm breath leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, you find yourself instinctively arching your hips closer to him, craving whatever pleasure he can offer.

“You smell so fucking good, love,” he mutters. 

You’re silently praising yourself for thinking to add your body oil to your thighs, not realizing you were doing it for Jake. 

He’s not done marking you up just yet, as he sucks long and deep on the flesh of your inner thigh, eliciting a high pitched moan from deep within your being, your hand quickly flying up to stifle your sounds. 

“This one is just for me,” he mumbles against the bruise, tracing it delicately with the tip of  his finger. “And only for me.”

“Jake, please…I need more,” you cry out, your voice trembling with desperation as he stares deeply into your heavy, longing eyes. 

“What do you need, beautiful?” He probes, peppering your thigh with gentle kisses, following a slow path towards where you crave his lips the most.

“Jake…”  

“Tell me what you need,” he says in a hushed voice, his lips trailing a delicate kiss just above your throbbing clit. “Just tell me and I’ll do everything in my power. It’s the least I can do for you…please, let me make everything up to you.”

“Jake I don’t care anymore I just—” you reach down to brush a loose strand out of his face, fingers grazing over his sharp jawline as he leans in, leaving a sweet kiss in the middle of your palm. “I just need you.”

A devious, sinful smirk graces lips as his attention diverts to your aching heat. 

With his index finger, he traces the wetness you’ve left on the fabric of your panties, drawing slow and lazy circles over your clothed clit. 

“Can I take these off?” He asks, his blown pupils dark with need as his question almost sounds as though he’s begging. “Want to see you, all pretty and wet for me.” 

“It’s all for you, Jake.” 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. His hands, strong and firm, reach up to your hips, tugging at the sides of your thong as you lift yourself to help him pull it down your thighs. “That’s what I like to hear.”

He helps you lift your right leg out, then your left leg, placing your panties on the edge of the bed once they’re finally off of you. 

Out of everyone you’ve ever been with, no one has ever taken this much time with you. Not once has anyone asked what you need, what you want. It's a side of Jake you never expected to see. In a thousand years, you wouldn't have imagined him being this attentive, this caring toward you. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he hums, his eyes longing fixed on your dripping core. “Every single part of you, just perfect.”

You instinctively jolt once his lips attach to your already sensitive clit, sucking it gently, his warm tongue swirling around it. With a tender touch, he holds your hips down in place, keeping you still for him as he explores you.

“Jake, oh my god, plea–”

He cuts off your words with a long glide of his tongue from you leaking entrance to your aching clit, sealing with a deep kiss to your throbbing bud, drawing a sharp gasp from you.

With his middle finger, he prods your entrance before slowly pushing it all the way in, finally filling you as you clench hard around his long digit. His grip on your hips does little to restrain you; you find yourself grinding against him, yearning for more of his touch. His tongue dances over your clit while his finger delves deeper into you, setting an delicious rhythm that has you craving more.

Then, he adds a second finger, filling and stretching you around him even more. His thrusts quicken, driving you closer to the edge with each brush of his fingers inside of you. 

Your hands instinctively find his soft locks, fingers entwining in the strands and tugging. A low moan escapes him, sending vibrations against your core.

“Just like that, Jake, just like tha–” 

But just as you're nearing your peak, there’s a sudden knock at the door that causes Jake’s fingers to still their movement, keeping them inside of you as he lifts his face that’s now glistening from your dripping arousal. 

“Jake? Are you and y/n okay?” It’s Josh. He sounds concerned, distressed. It’s sweet, although his timing is…awful. “You’ve been in there for a while…we’re just worried about you guys.”

Shit.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

a/n: oof. that was a lot. thank you for sticking with me, lol.

who do we think the mysterious Dodger could be?

i'd love to hear your thoughts! don't be afraid to reach out; hearing from you all keeps me going.

if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, follow this link or let me know & i'll be sure to add you. ☺️ (let me know if i've missed you)

sending all my love!

taglist:

@jakeyt @alwaysonthemend @sacredjake @jakesgrapejuice @misshunnybee @reesetrippingthelight @way-to-go-lad @sinarainbows @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @klarxtr @watchingover-hypegirl @brinlygvf @stardustjake @gretavanbear @gvfmelbourne @sinsofstardust @literal-dead-leaf @gvf-ficreads @jaaakeeey @capturethechaos @neptune2324 @jaketlove @thetroublegetssoloud71 @myleftsock @sanguinebats @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @joshskittytickler @violet-hayes @aflameforgoinghome @heckingfrick @fitalich @starshine-gvf @audgeppp @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @nina-23-45 @torniturntomyarrow @beautifulcrayola @writingcold @welllauragvf @loveisonaroll @itsafullmoon @gretasfallingsky @i-love-gvf @kiszkas-canvas @mackalah @gvfmarge @sarafrusciante2 @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @highway-tuna @vikingsisthenewsexy @louiseecraigg @hippievanfleet @citylight-delight @blacksoul-27

[zialltops]

honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

Cowboy!Joel (41) X F!Reader (25) | 47.3k words | wip | explicit | 18+ minors dni | enemies to lovers | slow burn | au: no cordyceps outbreak | oral (f receiving) | (semi) public sex | vaginal fingering

masterlist | ao3 | spotify playlist

You chance a glance over at the outlaw in the driver's seat while he scans his surroundings like he’s done this before, the rear view mirror and the road ahead never leaving his sight. “What if they catch up to us? I don’t want to get arrested, Joel!”

a/n: howdy folks! I’m pulling my head out of my ass and getting back into writing. These last few weeks have been leveling put for me and I’ve been feeling a lot better compared to how my life HAS been. These two were the perfect break even though this took my two whole months for only a few thousand words. I’ll be back sooner than last time with an update, but you’ll see me before then for another wip. Much love, hayhay 🤍

Chapter 8: What Was I Thinkin?

Three hours ago, if you asked Joel how the night would come to its end, he’d tell you he’d probably be in the cabin, laying in his cold bed, staring up at his ceiling fan, alone—with his right hand working his dick to the tune of the farmer’s daughter. In fact, three hours ago, he’d told Tommy something similar.

“Joel, man—I promise It looks fine.”

He adjusts the buttons on his shirt another time, stuck between leaving one undone and letting the opening linger down his chest. “Fine ain’t gonna cover it, Tom—ain’t no way in hell I’m walkin’ up to her lookin jus’ fine.” Tommy huffs from behind him and starts to go through the closet beside Joel while he stares at himself in the body length mirror behind the door.

“What about this one?” Tommy beams, He’s holding up a black shirt on a hanger, slight dust on the shoulders from it’s lack of use. He’s half surprised the moths haven’t gotten to it yet. Its buttons are made of iridescent pearls that snap in place, labyrinthian embroidery adorning the breast pockets. “Ain’t worn it since before the accident.” He lifts one of the sleeves in his hands, lingering on the fitted cuff.

His mind takes him back to half forgotten nights under neon lights, long neck bottles and ropers calluses on his rodeo-worn hands. To money wasted on buckle bunnies and broncs, to years taken off his life under the sharp hooves of a one ton animal—years he’ll never get back. Years he wishes he’d never taken for granted.

He was a more confident man then, not cocky—but proud of his abilities in the arena, proud enough to walk tall, speak surly. He was a master in his sport because he trained religiously, fully immersed in the idea that this was his only shot at making it. He still believes that, even now. He wishes you could have met him then, when he was that Joel—Rodeo buckles and spurs, cowboy hats and stadium lights. When he was a white straw hat and chaps, an unsullied grin with a thirst for adrenaline and belt buckles.

He holds the black cotton between his well worked fingers and longs to be that man again—if only for one night. Would you like him? A cowboy in his prime with worked muscles, before his beer belly and the softness in his chest really set in? “This one’s good,” he huffs, brushing the dust off the shoulders before unbuttoning it enough to remove it from the hanger. “Lemme help you.” His brother offers. Joel’s not naive, he knows the fear is visible atop the surface of his flushed skin, in the deepened frown lines and the shake in his hands.

Tommy is a lot of things, but once in a while he softens around his selfish edges and he bends a little, reaching out for the weeping limbs of his brother, struggling with all his might to keep himself standing up straight in the storm, a resilient and irrepressible figure to look up to. Tommy sees the way the longing shines through the perforations in his irises, the way his shoulders slump with oppressive burden—and he takes pity on the older man. “I’ll wash it real quick while you shower. It’ll be good as new, fresh outta the dryer by the time you're done.” He looks up at Joel, who’s still transfixed in the forgotten token of his former youth, of the man who he used to be. Items he’d left in storage down in Austin that Hank had so graciously shipped to Jackson.

He almost wishes he’d never gotten it all back, it was easier then—to hide from who he was when he wasn’t reminded of his past every single day, but once in a while—that reckless, spotlight chasing cowboy grasps for the surface. And tonight? Tonight is your birthday, the town dance, where you’re going to be, probably looking like something Joel doesn’t have a shot in hell with. It’s your damn birthday and he wants to ask you to dance but he’s not sure the fee quick dance lessons he got will suffice. What if he stumbles? Steps on your pretty little feet? Drops you?

“Joel—“ there's a snap in front of his face and he pulls himself out of the chaos inside of his mind. “Man, you are loosin’ it. I’ve never seen you this wound up over some girl—“ his eyes snap up to his brothers and he huffs lowly. “She ain’t just—some girl. She’s Hank and Lou’s daughter, people I think of as family. She’s smart and resourceful, sometimes a little reckless but she makes me feel like…like I’m alive for once.” Tommy sets the black shirt down and sit on the side of Joel's bed. Beside him, Joel's weight sinks onto the mattress. “M’gettin’ old, Tom. I don’t have a lot of good years left in me and I don’t know if I’ll ever have a opportunity like this again.”

Tommy takes a glance over at the distant look in his brothers eyes. “Opportunity?” Joel's eyes flick over and he sighs. He wishes Tommy had a little bit of what he had built inside of him, the innate goal of settling down, finding where he belongs and who he belongs with.

“At bein’ happy. Good memories for my restless nights.” If he fucked this up and missed his chance, he’s not sure he’ll have it in him again, if it will ever feel like this with anyone else. He thinks he’s done, thinks you’re it. He thinks he could give you forever if you’d let him.

“S’that why you’re so messed up in the head? What, do you think she’s going to shoot you down?” Tommy’s voice picks up in pitch, offense used like a weapon to get his point across and Joel appreciates the gusto. “Think I’m gonna go home alone tonight. Think it’s just gonna be me and the crickets and this damn hand again, dreamin’ bout how damn sweet she is.”

Tommy’s hand reaches into the breast pocket of his shirt and he retrieves a silver flask, offering it to his older brother who takes it with unsure fingers. “Just be yourself, man. Walk up to her like you belong there. Just need a little bit of confidence, don’t let her think you’re second guessing yourself. I don’t know her like you do—but I know that girl is more than willing when it comes to you.”

Joel takes a long swig of rot-gut whiskey, lets is sink into his bones and find the will to drag himself into the shower and wash away the saw dust lingering on his skin from the floor of the dance hall, ease some of the soreness in his knees and back from learning how to dance.

When he’s finished, there's a clean shirt and a flask laying on his bed. Joel finishes off the whiskey before he fastens the first button.

Liquid courage is the only thing that gets him to town.

He’s everywhere—everywhere. His hands burn on your thigh, on your hip where they dig in just a little too roughly when he pins you to the wall beside the back door. The second it closed behind you, there was a desperation clinging to the early spring air, perforating the slight chill until it shimmied beneath it and took life in the form of heat dripping across your exposed flesh. It was sticky and hot, sucking you in like a vortex straight to the center of what your world revolved around—Joel Miller and his touch that feels like fire.

He tastes like alcohol and tooth paste and part of you wonders if that’s what's changed about him, why he was so willing to let go of his reservations in-front of half of the town. He’s been drinking, drowning his insecurities enough to throw himself at you bravely.

Will he still be this Joel when you open your eyes in the morning? Will he regret it?

His teeth dig into your bottom lip and your brain goes fuzzy, stars forming behind your closed eyes. Insecurities can wait until tomorrow, you decide. His hips press forward ever so slightly and the outline of his cock can’t go unnoticed, not with the way it makes the fabric of your panties drag against your clit tantalizingly. Behind your closed eyes, the stars morph into crackles of fireworks, filling your senses with bright pleasure and desperate desire to chase those lights into the night.

You hike your legs higher, trying to drag him into the delicious delirium with you. The movement pulls a guttural groan out of the broad cowboy. “Joel—Joel,” you need his hands to leave brands on your skin where they’ve touched you, setting fire to your soul. “I know—fuck, baby, I know.” Is he crumbling like you, throwing himself into this very moment right here? Is he as desperate as you are? Does it feel like a travesty and a triumph? The yearning you’ve endured, for the victory of finally knowing what he feels like when he kisses the breath from your lungs.

It’s more than you know how to articulate—more devastating than you anticipated and yet—it’s still not enough. It won't be enough until his heart beats in time with your own and you feel him wrapped up in your body

His teeth dig into your jaw and your body reacts before you tell it to, searching for the release only he can bring you.

“Touch me, please—please, touch me.”

And suddenly, in the time it takes to flip on a light switch, he’s gluttonous, insatiable and voracious—a wild predator set loose just to turn on its careful handler. The only thing that comes to mind, in comparison, is a pack of wolves frenzied to sink their teeth into the supple flesh of their prey.

In your case—Joel is the starved pack—and you? You are but an unsuspecting doe, practically sacrificing yourself to his uncontrollable famine.

Those thick digits, adorned with callouses earned from laborious work, hastily push aside the fabric of your dress in search of your covered center. He feels so fucking good when those digits push their way past the hem of your panties and he gasps against the shell of your ear. Like it feels just as good to him, letting the pads of his index and middle finger tease the seam of your lips before slipping between and dragging those rough digits over your hardened clit. It’s all the built up want, longing, needing that makes him feel so other-worldly, you’ll never experience something like this, the rush of relief to finally be his.

His fingers dip lower, searching for the source of all this slick adorning his knuckles, when his thumb drags idly over your already sensitive clit. Its like an electric shock straight to your sternum, arching you forward in search of anchorage to this reality altering interaction. There's a hint of alcohol swimming behind your fluttering eyelids, but his shuddering groan is sickeningly sobering. You want to say something, tell him how good he makes you feel, but the words bubble up in your chest and hang in your throat in the form of a silent sob, your mouth hanging open and your toes curling against your shoes.

“There it is, huh? S’what finally gets you quiet? Just needed me to touch your pussy, didn’t you?” Where the hell has this Joel been hiding? He’s never been so vulgar, so vocal and confident in himself. His fingers tease the soft ring at your opening, smearing slick around on his fingers when he leans against your front to press his face against your heaving chest and neck. His fingers plunge in—and your body jerks against his solid form. He lets you shudder and tighten up against him while his thumb moves steadily, never coming off the peak of your nerve—locked on it with such perfected percussion that there is no jerky catch, just steady—drowning pleasure. His rough pant of breath paints your shoulder in sticky warmth and your thighs tighten around him, begging to draw him into your desperation.

“She’s just cryin’ for me, ain’t she, Honey?” His drawl sounds like sweet tea on a hot summer afternoon, like your sight set on the Austin sunset from the seat of an old saddle, driving cattle through tall grass and endless horizons.

Being touched by Joel Miller feels like coming home.

He finds a steady pace, working his fingers in and out, each drag punctuated by the ridges of his knuckles and the rough pads of his finger tips. Just faintly, you can make out the wet sound your sex makes every time he fucks his fingers into you intentionally. Its instantaneous the way heat blooms in your pelvis, knotting up in your stomach until you’re so overwhelmed, you’re trembling in his grip. “She’s so fuckin’ greedy, pretty little cunt needs to be stuffed, don’t she? G’damn, you’re quiverin’—you gonna cum f’me already?” His words are like a dirty secret, never meant to be revealed—knowing exactly what kind of storm that truth would bring. Let the rain pour down, let the thunder crack and the gusts rip the apprehension from your bones—because Joel Miller wants you and you’ve been waiting for this moment for two years.

You’ve imagined this a million times, slipped your fingers between your legs to the mere idea of this revered and dignified southern gentleman—more once you’d put a face to the elusive cowboy. No matter how deeply you lost yourself to your imagination, none of it will ever amount to the way cold brick feels against your exposed back, the way denim jeans ruffs up the insides of your smooth thighs, the way a felt Stetson bumps against your temple when his fingers curl against a spot inside of you no man has ever found, dragging the air from your lungs, robbing your vocal cords of their melody. With your eyes rolled back and your desire strung tight, you manage to string together enough sound to produce words.

“Yes-Yes, Joel—make me cum! Please!”

A third, assured finger slips in right beside the other two and slam forward, sending you spiraling down that one way path towards pure ecstasy. His fingers curl again and his thumb quickens, pushing you up and up until you’re sure you’re about to melt through his finger tips, a weeping puddle at his feet. “That’s it, pretty girl—cum on these fingers, let me feel her squeeze me.”

His command is your saving grace, the final twist that undoes the well wound rope holding you together. A variation of his name rips from your throat and consumes the space around you, invoking a bright euphoria that shrouds every nerve ending you possess. He doesn’t even know what he’s just subjected your body to—a life altering experience that you will never be able to recreate with another person. “S…s’the best orgasm I’ve ever had,” is the only thing your mind conjures up once you’ve come down enough to speak. He’s still holding onto you, slowly slipping his fingers out and letting you down with a satisfied chuckle.

“Wunna taste you,”

How will you handle another assault from that honed attention? How will you ever unsee that unruly tousle of curls between your thighs?

He doesn’t give you long enough to form a protest before he’s rushing you through the parking lot, a determination in his step that you’ve never seen. He’s surpassed the point of antsy when he yanks open the passenger door and finds leverage on your hips to hoist you up, then toss you down on the torn upholstery. You should say something—tell him to slow down before you pass out from the burn of his hands—but fuck you don’t want him to stop, consciousness be damned.

Instead, you watch him set his cowboy hat on the dusty dashboard, the silver trim of the band shimmering with luster in the golden street lamps. He drinks your body in visibly, relishing in every curve and inhale of breath. When his vision finds yours, they are nearly black with desire—his pupils having consumed every inch of bourbony brown. When his big hands find your thighs again, the resistance bleeds away and gives way to insurmountable, greedy hunger.

“C’mere, girl.” The hands on your thighs dig into the flesh, leaving finger shaped dimples in your sensitive skin. “Lemme see that fuckin’ pussy.” Jesus christ.

If your friends could see you now, they’d all laugh at how easy you are, but right now—it’s just you and your cowboy—you’ll never be anything but easy for him.

His hands move with fever, hastily pushing your dress up your hips. “I’m going to fucking ruin you, babygirl. Only word you’ll know is my name when I’m finished with you.” That same ferocious want consumes you, possessing your hands to work on their own accord, helping Joel shimmy your panties down your thighs and over your heels.

You have enough time to register the way he stuffs the black lace into the front pocket of his wranglers before that head of his is forcing its way under your dress. He spreads your legs easily, pushes and pulls with his hands until his mouth seals over your clit, drenching your nervous system in blinding heat.

He’s good, so good at this. His tongue slides through your dripping folds with a tedious, monotonous rhythm. He’s licking for a taste, for his own glutinous thirst based on the way he groans and sighs against the softness of your lips. His eyes flick up at the same time your body starts to quiver, trying to adjust to so much honed desire narrowed in on you. “J-Joel, please don’t st-top.” Your eyes start to leave his in favor of rolling back in your head when your chest arches out, searching for a breath of sobering air, for something to hold onto so you don’t crumble apart. “Feels so good—you feel so good.”

His mouth closes over you and he sucks, pulling your clit against the smoothness of his tongue as he flicks it over and over, soothing the sensitive bud, while actively robbing you of any coherent train of thought. The only sounds that leave your lungs are sharp gasps and whines, fueled by the low groaning sound he’s muffling between your thighs. He releases you and your body reels, drawing in breath after breath to catch up with your racing heart.

“Wunna split this little pussy open on me,”

Oh fuck, oh fuck fuck—fuck.

You have long enough to gaze down at him, watching as he slides the flat of his tongue through your lips, over the sensitive bud, before your head is dipping back again.

“I’ve been practicing—I got, oh, fuck Joel, like that,” you heave and he pulls away completely, shocking you into a mewling, whining mess. “You got what, baby, use your words.”

Your body bares down on nothing, /wish he would just give it up already, unbuckle that belt, push down those wranglers and fuck you like you deserve. Joel grunts while he watches, letting it rumble through his whole body. “Got a toy that’s as big as you so I could practice. So I'd be able to take you.”

His whole demeanor shifts, alternating from this brazen, confident cowboy to the man suddenly lost between your thighs, sucking and slurping, licking and moaning to himself. He’s gutless, starving and desperate, he whimpers when you squeeze your thighs and cry his name, holding on tight until the flash of blue and red and the sound of a loud voice rips him from his mission.

“Jackson Police department, step away from the vehicle!”

Joel rips himself away from your body before you even have a chance to cover yourself. “Fuck-fuck,” he looks around sharply, eying the lone officer in a tan blazer with flashing lights fastened to its hard top. The sheriff has a light in their hand, leaning over the side of the blazer. You manage to pull your dress down and scoot back, trying to hide yourself from the light shining on the two of you.

Joel's gaze falls away from the officer, parked behind the truck, blocking it in. Instead, he looks forward, into the clearing in front of the parking lot, half lit by the street lamp. His jaw clicks and he looks set on whatever is going through that big brain of his. “Put a seat belt on.”

What?

Joel grabs his hat and slides across the bench seat quickly, slamming the door behind him. He makes it across you and throws himself in front of the steering wheel, finding the ignition quickly to turn the keys in the shaft.

The chevy roars to life at the same time that he slams the gear shifter into drive and plows over the parking block. Before you have a chance to register what's happening, the blue pickup is sliding through mud and grass, leaving tire tracks in the field as he cuts through it towards the highway.

“Joel, what in the—fuck!“ you shout, reaching up for the oh-shit handle, while the other hand reaches for the solid form beside you, grasping him by the bicep as he snorts nervously. “Just—calm down for a second, we’ll lose ‘em.”

Your heart races and your nerves radiate through your entire body. You’re a good kid, you’ve never ran from the cops before, never been in trouble for crying out loud. You did your best in school, tried to make your parents proud despite your small side of rebellion. And yet, here you are—trying your best to hang on while he cuts corners and runs stop signs, old alleyways and back roads through the thickets. The truck roars past speed limit signs, loosing rodeo flyers pinned to telephone poles when he slams the gears—orange papers fluttering in the settling dust.

You chance a glance over at the outlaw in the driver's seat while he scans his surroundings like he’s done this before, the rear view mirror and the road ahead never leaving his sight. “What if they catch up to us? I don’t want to get arrested, Joel!”

He snorts, taking another random left and speeding down the street. “Ain’t gonna get arrested, honey. Just trust me.”

Trust him? How could he even ask you that, like that wasn’t what this was all along. You trusted him like you trusted the sun to set and rise again, like you trusted the birds to sing and the rivers to run—you’d trusted Joel with your family’s dream and he never let you down.

Somewhere along the way, you lose the ability to fight off your grin, Joel manages to leave flashing red and blue in a cloud of dust. He cuts through a group of trees leading into a clearing and shuts off the lights. He drives by moonlight, effectively covering his tracks and making his way onto another road, leading up the mountain towards the ranch. He pulls off another dirt road that is cut out along the side of the hill, but he isn’t in as much of a hurry as he was before. He takes a last left, bringing the truck to the edge of the hillside that overlooks the entire town of jackson—from the dance hall—to the bar—to the red and blue set of lights on the south side of town, still looking for you and your cowboy.

The world grants you a few silent moments to catch your breath, before it completely robs you of tingling in your muscles, the conscious connection between the two of you. The reality of being truly alone with him is sobering, with nothing but the trees and the wildlife to offer a distraction.

Now that the air has cooled and your heart has finished pounding in your ears, you can make out the faint hum of the stereo, the FM dial lit up by the soft glow behind it. The station is still the same as it was when you were a girl, riding in your daddy’s pickup, playing old country music like it did in the days of your youth.

Now, it rings in your ears with the nerves seeping into your bones, settling into an uncomfortable dust. Right now, of all times? Anxiety has to claw up your chest and wrap around your throat while his saliva is still drying on the inside of your thighs?

Fuck, his beard is still glistening in the green-glow of the stereo.

“You’re starin’ at me.” He says almost quietly. You expected him to tease and flirt, maybe boast, but his voice waivers halfway through and you start to pick up on his slight nerve. Under all that charm and intensity is starting to give way to a much more vulnerable Joel—a man you know all too well.

“You’re just, uh—“ you swallow thickly and try to find the courage to meet his deep brown eyes. “Your beard is…wet.” When you do find his irises, his mouth picks up in a half smirk. If he’s as scared as you are right now, he’s doing a good job of hiding it. He’s giving it everything he’s got to hide it from you.

It’s been so long and you need this. Need to be touched, appreciated, worshipped.

The look in his eyes tells you that he’s eager to kneel.

“And who’s fault is that, hmm?” That sweet, sultry accent drags you in, sliding closer on the seat until you're nearly tucked into his side, leaned back against the seat while he looms over you. He’s still nervous, you can see it floating around in his dark eyes, but his jaw clicks like he’s trying to rein something in.

Silence falls upon you once more, but unbeknownst to the cicadas and the crickets, your dancing gazes say everything you need to hear. His eyes drop to your lips and yours to his. His tongue peaks out unconsciously, wetting his bottom lip ever so slightly—like he’s tasting you there.

His mouth clicks shut and it's then that you glance up. His eyes are back on yours, suddenly so much softer with a lulled arch to his eyebrows. In the depths of his eyes you find renewed hunger, fire burning in those pools of smooth chocolate. Your body relaxes, succumbs to the form of his plains of muscles adorning his body. When you tilt your head up to him in offering, you sink so deeply into those dark pools you can nearly taste the sweetness of him like velvety candy melting against your taste buds.

“Joel—“ you choke out, deciding then that if he waits a second longer you’ll suffocate.

There's things about this life that can never be stopped, inexorable phenomenons that are unavoidable. The seasons will always change. The storms will always come, lightning will always strike. The days will always end and the sun will rise again on the next.

And Joel Miller will always, always break when you say his name like that.

He falls into you with a sharp intake of breath, crashing his mouth against yours with surprising accuracy. It’s so easy to let him take over with the perfect combination of rush and savor he puts into the way he envelops you. His mouth is soft, but persistent, wrapping around your bottom lip when he sucks it between his teeth for a soft bite that makes you want to live in this moment forever.

You nearly do because you get absolutely lost in kissing him, you don’t protest when he leans you back on the bench seat, you don’t put up any sort of fight when he spreads your thighs with his wide hips. When his hands grip your knees, you know you’re completely done for.

He pulls away from your mouth and his eyes find yours in the low green glow and there, you find everything you’ve ever longed for.

“I…I think,” Joel shifts, looking down at his hands like he’s just woken up from sleep walking straight into your heart and soul. “I think I should get you home, s’gettin late.”

Late? Your poor muddled brain cannot keep up with how quickly he fades in and out of doing anything to have you, to be terrified to touch you. How quickly he slips into a starved desire to shaking in his boots.

Not for the first time, you wish you could reach right into his brain and pull out whatever it is that makes him think you don’t want those rough hands all over your bare body. He’s already had a taste of you, already kissed you—what more could be standing in his way?

“Home? Joel, we were just getting started—“ he clears his throat and sits up, trying to slide away from you but your heels dig into his tailbone and drag him back. “Started down a road we both know only leads to nothing but trouble and regret.”

What, the, fuck?

“I’m—you think this is a bad idea?”

The uncomfortable air settles back in between you and your legs around him loosen. “Think you're going to realize really quickly this ain’t what you want and this—I’ve got…too much on the line.”

He has too much on the line? What about the ranch? Your childhood home about to be lost to the bank? What about the dance hall where he’s built a new floor to make you smile? Does it all wash away with his assumed doom?

“What are you saying? This…this was a mistake? Joel I still have your fucking spit drying on my pussy and you—you regretted it already?” The realization feels like a dull blade straight to your gut, forcing it way in and twisting you from the inside out. It burns with shame and agony and you pull yourself out from under his sturdy build.

“I didn’t mean—I regret anything, fuck knows I don’t—“ no, no. You’ve given this man so much of yourself, committed so much to be thrown around and have your feelings stomped on.

“Then what the fuck does it mean, Joel! You—you made me cum while telling me you wanted to stuff my cunt but now you think this is…” you have a realization then, that maybe—just maybe, he does actually regret it. What does he think, you’d turn around and throw him out on his ass? If he truly thinks that low of you then maybe…

“This was a big fucking mistake.” You say coldly, making up your mind as you right your bunched up dress and adjust your fixed gaze on the passenger side window.

“Take me home.” It’s not a request.

It’s not an invitation, either, Joel understands as he watches you close the front door behind you later that night, settling his made up mind.

He presses his palm to his crotch twice and comes in his pants right there in the driveway, just like he knew he was going to.

And he feels like a fucking fool.