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littlespoonevan · 3 days ago

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Would love to hear more about the Miss Congeniality Au!

ahhh miss congeniality au, my beloved!!!! 💖💗💞💕🩷❤️ truly, truly, truly i feel like this au could be so much FUN if i could find the discipline and motivation to just sit down and write it lmao. but i will say i v much enjoyed fitting all the pieces together for this snippet so here's hoping it awakens something in me askdjhf

i hope you like it 🥰

Eddie never imagined becoming a special agent. Then again, he never imagined becoming a single dad either.

But FBI work actually keeps him chained to a desk a hell of a lot more than regular police work used to and the pay’s better.

He’s regretting that decision right about now.

“Eddie, it has to be you.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, quickening his step even as Chimney continues to keep pace with him.

“It absolutely doesn’t, Chim.”

“The whole office agrees-“

Eddie stops short, whirling around. “Just because the little simulation version of me you drew up on the computer had an eight-pack-“

“My computer does not lie, Diaz-“

“I don’t have time,” Eddie cuts in. “I can’t be away from Chris that long.”

“It’s one week. Less, if you do your job right.”

Eddie makes a face.

It’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. A charity firefighter competition that he really thinks sounds a hell of a lot like a beauty pageant. Sure, there’s obstacle courses and stuff to complete but he’s not sure what a speedo competition has to do with being a competent firefighter. The cause is noble, he guesses, but there has to be a better way to raise money than deciding who’s the most specialist firefighter in all of Los Angeles.

Especially when the host – Captain Bobby Nash – is the target of a bomb threat.

It wouldn’t even have landed on their desk if not for the fact that three people with ties to Bobby Nash and the LAFD had received bombs in the mail over the last two weeks.

Athena thinks their best chance to take down the mail bomber is to have someone on the inside, to infiltrate the competition and investigate the contestants while also being the FBI’s eyes and ears throughout the week.

Hen and Chim, of course, volunteered Eddie for the job.

“I don’t like undercover work.” It’s an oversimplified version of the truth – that Eddie hates having to perform for an extended period of time and that this competition sounds like his own personal version of hell. Also, as much as he knows he’s in good shape, he doesn’t actually want people ogling his body for a week straight.

Chim gives him an incredibly unsympathetic clap on the shoulder. “Just use those big, brown eyes of yours and wow the judges with your salsa skills and no one will be any the wiser.”

Eddie opens his mouth to argue back when another voice cuts through their conversation.

“She said yes!”

He and Chimney both look up to find Hen running towards them, a beaming grin on her face. “Athena said yes! Better start practicing your poses, Firefighter Diaz.”

Well, shit.

Captain Bobby Nash has got a made-for-TV smile that has Eddie understanding why he got the hosting gig over every other fire captain in LA.

“Special Agent Grant,” he says, shaking Athena’s hand with a warmth to his expression that Eddie doesn’t expect.

Athena clearly doesn’t expect it either because she clears her throat as she pulls her hand back. “Captain Nash. This is Agent Diaz.”

Nash redirects his attention to Eddie, extending his hand once again. “Great to meet you. And please, call me Bobby.”

“You too,” Eddie says, flashing a polite smile and following Athena’s lead to take a seat in front of Bobby’s desk.

“So I take it there’s been some progress in the case?” Bobby asks, settling into his chair.

Athena purses her lips, exchanging a look with Eddie. “Not as much as we’d like. Given that we still don’t have a trace on the letter the bomber sent and the LAFD’s reluctance to cancel the competition, we’ve decided to send one of our agents in undercover.”

Bobby’s eyes immediately flick to Eddie and Eddie feels the ridiculous urge to straighten his posture. “I’m guessing that’s where you come in, Agent Diaz?”

“Not that we want to undermine the integrity of the competition but it will be imperative that Eddie makes it to the final,” Athena says. “It’s the best chance we have of catching the bomber if we can’t determine a suspect before then.”

Bobby leans back in his chair, regarding them both with an unreadable expression. Finally, he cracks a smile. “Well, he certainly looks the part.”

“He gets that a lot,” Athena snorts and Eddie ducks his head to hide the heat in his cheeks. It’s bad enough when it’s Hen and Chim ribbing him; he didn’t actually think Athena ever overheard them.

“Which firehouse is he representing though?” Bobby asks. “All of the contestants have already been chosen.”

Without missing a beat, Athena hands over a file that Eddie knows contains the fake details of his new identity. “Apparently the 133’s entry came down with an awful bout of food poisoning.”

Bobby accepts the manila folder with a faint smirk. “Well, that’s a shame.”

“Diaz. Diaz, do you read me? Over.”

Eddie rolls his eyes as he steps onto the bus ready to ship the contestants to the opening luncheon. “Yes, Chim,” he mutters under his breath. “I can hear you; stop yelling.”

“Remember to smile, Eddie.” That’s Hen.

How Athena thought they were the two best suited to oversee this, he’ll never understand.

He scans the length of the bus, looking for an empty seat. The whole place is overrun with burly men in too tight t-shirts talking animatedly to each other. It takes him a second to realise one of the men in question is waving at him.

He’s got curly hair and a golden retriever-esque eagerness to his smile. “Edmundo?” he asks. “From the 133, right?”

Eddie clears his throat and rearranges his face into a smile as he makes his way to the empty seat. Though calling it an empty seat feels generous when the firefighter all but shoves himself against the window to make room.

“How’d you know who I was?” he asks, genuinely curious. They only finalised the details of Eddie’s position in the competition yesterday and they made sure to leave any of his information off the official competition website.

“Oh I did a little deep dive on the other contestants but you were the only one who didn’t have a picture so I figured it had to be you.” He shrugs with an affable charm before offering Eddie a hand. “I’m Evan Buckley, with the 118. Everyone calls me Buck though.”

“He’s cute,” Hen says in his ear.

“Like a puppy,” Chim adds.

Eddie ignores them and shakes his hand. “Uh, you can call me Eddie,” he greets. Changing his last name was necessary; he refuses to go by Edmundo for the next week. It’s only then that he clocks the station number Buck said. “You’re part of Nash’s team.”

“Yeah,” Buck says, beaming with pride. “Bobby’s the best captain ever. You know some of these guys have it out for me because they think he’s gonna play favourites even though he’s not a judge. He’s just the host. But whatever, it’s not a big deal.”

The dejected look that creeps onto Buck’s face suggests it very much is a big deal even if he won’t admit it. Eddie feels a pang of sympathy. The guy seems harmless, even with all the rippling muscles. Then again, he’s not surprised a competition this testosterone-fuelled has people acting territorial.

“They just want an excuse for when you beat them in the first round,” Eddie says, mostly to fill the silence but also to get this Buck guy to stop looking so downtrodden.

He definitely doesn’t expect the way Buck’s whole face lights up in awe.

“You think I’ve got a shot at making it to the finals?”

The earnest hopefulness in Buck’s voice catches Eddie off guard and Hen and Chimney in his ear don’t help.

“Aww Eddie’s making friends!”

“Forget friends! Eddie, he’s cute; keep flirting with him.”

Eddie bites down on the urge to tell them to fuck off and makes himself smile at Buck instead. “’Course you do. Some of these guys are lucky they even made it this far.”

Truthfully, Eddie hasn’t even taken the time to look at anyone else on the bus all that much yet but the words tumble out of his mouth without permission. And in the face of Buck’s delighted grin, he can’t find it in himself to take them back.

“Thanks, man,” Buck says bashfully. “Hey, you have anyone to share a room with at the hotel yet?”

“Please tell me there’s only gonna be one bed,” Hen squawks gleefully in his ear.

“Uh I don’t know. Are they assigned or-?”

“They figured since most of us know each other we could pair up however we want but- um…” Buck trails off, making it clear no one has offered to share with him and well, it seems like he knows a lot about the other contestants. That could be good for Eddie. To get information and close the case. Obviously.

“Yeah, man. We can share.”

“Awesome!” Buck declares, slumping more comfortably in his seat and bumping his shoulder –probably accidentally – against Eddie’s. The bus gets moving then and Eddie takes the opportunity to scope out some of the other contestants.

It’s unlikely their suspect is another firefighter but not impossible.

“So how come I’ve never seen you at a scene before?”

Eddie blinks, redirecting his attention to Buck who’s looking at him curiously.

“Oh uh, I just transferred in the last couple of months.”

“From where?” Buck’s expression doesn’t look suspicious and Eddie has to remind himself not every conversation with a stranger needs to be an interrogation.

“Um, El Paso,” he says, immediately cringing on the inside. This man does not need to know any of his real life personal details.

But Buck only smiles again. “Cool. I’ll have to look out for you on calls from now on.”

And it’s not said flirtatiously or anything like that but Buck looks bashful again and Chimney is cackling his ear about how, “Eddie’s got a fan,” and Eddie’s stomach does a strange, traitorous flip.

But this is fine.

Everything is fine.

It’s just-

It’s going to be a long week.

#buddie #911 #buddie fic #my fics #meme thing #bucks-daddy-issues #asks

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lupinqs · 2 days ago

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hi hi hi!!!!!!! with the end of take me to church right around the corner, i want y’all to vote on which upcoming series you’d like to see first. imma be honest my favorite is the second one but i have so much lore for all of them that it would be easy for me to write any!!! vote pls!!!!

WNBA Paige x Upper East Side Princess OC:

paige plays for the liberty; she’s in her rookie season

oc is in her last year of college at columbia—her parents are very rich (like billionaire type rich) and she’s grown up on the upper east side

enemies to lovers hella because oc is a bitch lowkey and paige def matches that energy towards oc

despite being so young, oc also already has a fiancé that she’s kinda been expected to end up with her whole life because he’s a family friend and the son of another rich millionaire/billionaire but they’re more just friends if anything

oc’s finacé’s parents are huge funders towards NY sports (including the liberty) which is kinda why oc and paige see each other a lot

oc’s parents def don’t approve so angst there too

oc is also an ex basketball player who was forced out of the sport at a young age despite being talented and paige kinda helps her get back into the sport and start loving it again because at the beginning oc HATES basketball

very reminiscent of gossip girl

UCONN Paige x Teammate OC:

paige is in her junior year, oc a freshman (only a year and a half age gap yall don’t be weird)

oc was the number-one recruit in her class coming into college just like paige was so she’s got a lotta pressure on her

paige and oc are roommates

oc tore her ACL her junior year of high school so when paige tears her, oc is there for her because she’s been in that position before—paige and oc have had a lot of similar experiences which makes them really understand each other

paige really channels her inner coach p into oc because oc is gonna have to have a huge role in this season due to paige’s absence and then even more so with azzi’s injury

oc also has had a bf for like ever and i’m saying she’s been in love with this boy since she was a kid because they lived next door to each other—that type of thing. so oc has never even really thought about being gay or liking girls because she’s always been so infatuated with that boy but when she and him start having problems because he’s at a different college and when paige starts comforting her through that and she and paige start spending more time with each other, oc starts… realizing lots of things about herself and her feelings

lots of self-discovery

end goal is for paige to basically coach and encourage oc and team to a natty

WNBA Paige x Ex-Bestfriend Actress OC:

paige plays for the sparks; she’s in her rookie year

oc is a well-known and successful actress

paige and oc were childhood best friends (yes ik i just did this with tmtc) and had a hella homoerotic friendship that ends up falling apart paige’s first year of college after …. certain events

oc is more open about her sexuality but paige has always been very overthinking about it and has severe internalized homophobia which helps lead to the crumbling of their friendship before

oc has been really really successful these past few years in the acting industry; her first movie came out in paige’s sophomore year of college which was sort of a wake up call for her then because she hadn’t even known that her best friend was actually legit in acting now

paige’s junior year college is when she realizes that yeah, she is gay and she was in love with oc basically her whole childhood but she’s ruined it and she doesn’t even think she has a chance anymore

paige is completely chill and confident within herself and her sexuality by her senior year of college

anyways in the present oc and paige meet again at some after party in la and it’s so weird for paige because oc seems so confident and at ease and she’s with all these famous people now but she used to be so shy and reserved

cameron brink and oc’s best friend are good friends and since paige and oc’s closest friends in la are good friends, they start running into each other a lot more

lots of angst fs and learning the new versions of each other vs remembering the ones they grew up with

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers fic #uconn huskies #wbb #uconn #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers series #wlw #lgbtq #wcbb #wcbb x reader #wnba

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avelera · 8 hours ago

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Something something… through Viktor’s actions we see his possible linear mental checklist of his goals in life, and those goals included eventually confessing his feelings to Jayce, but before he did he felt he needed to do other things first. Namely:

1) Make Hextech a reality - Check. Viktor and Jayce actually achieved this one by 1.04. They could continue to refine forever but you can tell they both felt a sense of accomplishment in this.

2) Give Hextech to the people - Incomplete. At the end of S1 they had the refined Hextech crystals but the full benefits of their work had not reached the masses. Nor would it/should it ever.

3) Help the Undercity - incomplete, arguably completely unaddressed or even undermined by their work. The Hexgates drew Piltover’s attention away from the Undercity, which is why it languished while Piltover looked to distant markets. Hextech materially made life worse for the Undercity, as the alternate timeline showed us.

4) Hextech innovations lead to a cure for Viktor’s disease and disability - Successful but in the most horrifying way possible, including a body count.

5) Profit - Confess his feelings to Jayce.

(Don’t get too hung up on the order here because obviously a lot of these things could happen concurrently and I don’t think Viktor is stupid he would know that Hextech innovation could take a lifetime and probably wouldn’t wait to confess to Jayce just for that endlessly moving finish line.)

BUT, joking aide, I truly DO think that Viktor is kind and empathetic at his core and he really didn’t plan to confess his feelings to Jayce until he found a cure for his disease, which would require a lot of Hextech innovation to have any hope of reaching. Literally it would take a miracle.

I think Viktor’s belief in his own inadequacy could have festered in the painful doldrums of his own rapidly advancing illness after the initial glow of making the Hexgates happen.

Any hope of finding a cure was always remote, but as his illness advanced, this is when he may have even begun to push Jayce away, knowing the inevitable was coming. He certainly wouldn’t confess feelings to someone he loved with his days so numbered.

And that’s where I think a thread of actual resentment towards Mel might have crept in. To be fair, I don’t think Viktor hated her as a person, as such, nor was he a swooning teenager wracked by petty jealousy. But I think it must have stung to have his days so numbered and have this woman who represented everything he couldn’t offer to Jayce: health, wealth, beauty, position, prestige, etc distracting his attention away during what might be Viktor’s final days.

The thing is, I think rationally Viktor didn’t say anything because again, his days were numbered and Jayce and Mel were happy and well suited and beautiful and perfect together. He had nothing to offer. And it would be cruel to drag Jayce back just so Jayce would have to mourn him even more. Then as a result, Viktor was even more consumed by trying to save his own life by a miracle, though he now had to do it more alone than he ever predicted he would have to.

But there’s that horrible catch 22. He can’t tell Jayce how he feels because he might fail and die anyway and that would be cruel to someone he loves. But if he doesn’t tell Jayce, Jayce won’t come back to his side to help him out with the research needed to maybe save it.

Then Sky dies to the Hexcore and Viktor realizes just how much he’d lost of the parts of himself he liked, the parts that cared about helping others as PART of the cure for himself, and truly just gave up on any of it. He made his peace, decided to support Jayce during the emancipation of Zaun as a sort of ambassador, and resigned himself to the fact this would be the end for him.

Well, we know what happened next. Jayce saved his life, against Viktor’s wishes, using Viktor’s now-hates innovation.

Ok so now for the part that I was trying to get to:

A newly healed Viktor now has to reevaluate his life’s work checklist. It’s a much shorter list now.

1) Save his own life - check.

2) Figure out a way to make the world a better place - check.

3) Confess to Jayce now that you’re proud of who you are both inside and outside. You are finally worthy of him. You will finally live long enough that confessing isn’t an act of cruelty. You finally have achievements that make you worthy to proposition the creator of Hextech and the man you love, who is as far as you know, currently dating the physical embodiment of perfection.

And that explains Viktor’s catwalk into the Council Chamber in 2.08. He’s decked out in Mel’s colors. He’s ready to compete. He’s perfect now. He’s found a way to save humanity from itself. He is now worthy of Jayce and in a place where he can actually offer a lifetime together.

And Jayce rejects him.

This stuns Viktor. Actually, it fully knocks him into a villain arc, because Jayce has never refused him anything before. And Viktor can’t comprehend why his checklist didn’t work. Why did becoming perfect not work?

Because Jayce didn’t need the checklist. He’d already broken up with Mel. He didn’t need Viktor to be healed or to have already saved the world or to be anything else but Jayce’s partner. Jayce would have been happier if Viktor proposed at Step 0, but Viktor thought that would be a cruelty if he didn’t have a cure yet.

But I truly think Jayce would have preferred even just a day as Viktor’s official partner if that was all they got over a decade of being held at arm’s length until “everything was perfect”.

And that’s what Viktor doesn’t understand.

And that’s what Jayce had to show him in that final act of love.

#jayvik #arcane #arcane spoilers #arcane meta

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fortheloveoffanfic · 3 days ago

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Then it would only be second to death.....

Hozier x fem!reader

Author's note: this shouldn't have taken me a month.

Masterlist

Summary: Following their chance run-in at the farmers market, Andrew shows up at Y/n's house. Part 2 of What if this is the last time I see you?

Warnings: Angst

“I’m right here,” he threads his fingers through his hair, “right here. We’re getting married, it doesn’t get any more present than that.”

Y/n scoffs, turning away from him, and Andrew knows that it’s because he’s brought her to tears – she hates when people see her crying. He hates making her cry. “Is that why we’re getting married?” Her voice breaks and she quickly swipes at her cheek, “so you can prove to yourself that you want to be here?”

“I want to be here,” when he takes a step towards her, Y/n takes one backwards and shifts her shoulder. He winces at the gesture, as if she’s actually pushed him away – though he supposes that in a way, she has. “I’m here –”

“You keep saying that but you’re not!” When she finally looks at him, her eyes are wide and glassy. He’s trying to think of the last time he heard her yell, but he quickly realizes that such a memory doesn’t exist. “You're at the studio, you’re in L.A….you’re on tour –”

“I'm working,” he grits.

“So am I. But I don’t forget that you exist when I do.” He’s irrationally offended by her comment; Andrew has never forgotten that she exists, he’s just been…..compartmentalizing. When he’s at work, he’ll work – when he’s with her, they’ll be together.

But when was the last time they’ve been together? When was the last time he’s taken her out or just sat down with her on the couch with her? Gone to bed the same time she has?

He can’t immediately remember – it must’ve been months ago.

But she should understand; that's what being with him means sometimes. It's not some well-kept secret, Y/n knows him – and he's the same person he was when they first met.

So he says that.

“You have always known who I am,” the minute the pointed words leave his mouth, Andrew regrets them and the only thing he wants more than to pluck them out of the tension-riddled air and shove back into his mouth. The look on her face is one he’s never seen her wear before, and it might be because she’s never been hurt that badly before.

The tears in her eyes. The quiver in her lips. The visible tightness in her throat. The way her cheeks suddenly seem hollow and it looks like she’s holding her breath.

“Right,” the word is broken up by a strain in her throat, “you’re right. You have much more important things going on. It was silly of me to assume that for once you’d put us first –”

“No,” he reaches out, but Y/n pulls away and grimaces, as if the thought of his touch is physically painful, “honey, that’s not what I meant,” he swears, breath is escaping him and he’s struggling to come up with the words that will fix things, “you’re misunderstanding –”

Again, Y/n brushes her face with the back of her hands, “no, I think, for the first time, I understand you perfectly,” he protests when she starts taking her ring off, but Y/n doesn’t seem to hear it – or particularly care. “I’ll come back for my things,” she says, slipping the little, emerald cut, Welsh gold ring into the breast pocket of his camel-coloured coat.

“Please don’t go,” he rasps, loosely gripping her shoulders, “please.”

“I just need to get away for a while,” Y/n offers softly, standing on her toes and holding onto her shoulder as she reaches to kiss him. He bends his head mechanically to allow her lips to meet his cheek. When she pulls away, it feels like he’s suffocating and while Andrew knows that going after her as she heads for the door has the potential to make all the difference, he can’t get his legs to move. The air is thin, his head is swimming and his legs feel like they're made of cement. So he does nothing but regret everything.

There’s so much he’d do differently, but Andrew thinks the thing that he’d change first is that moment when Y/n told him that it felt like there was an immeasurable distance between them. It was following a forgotten appointment with a wedding planner he’d meant to hire as part of an early wedding present but had neglected to, he hadn’t even realized he’d forgotten until he got home and found her on the sofa, coat and keys discarded on the coffee table and eyes red-rimmed. Andrew can’t quite remember what had made him forget, but in the moment it had seemed more important than their wedding – except now he’s forgotten all about it but the memory of her telling him that she’s lonely in their relationship, and that he feels light-years beyond reach is still fresh in his mind.

Unbridgeable – that was the exact word she’d used.

“I can’t get to you,” she says, the hazy blue film of such a bruising memory shrouds the glassiness of her eyes but barely hides the thick emotion in her throat, “I keep trying, hoping you'll let me get close. I want to be with you, be there for you but most of the time I can’t tell what you’re thinking — I'm not sure if you even want me around. Whatever’s between us its……unbridgeable.”

Unbridgeable.

It makes him think of oceans and gaping canyons. That unmeasurable distance between the deepest point of the sea and the barest end of space. Unreachable – was he really that bad?

So far away that for every time they kissed, Y/n felt like she was locking lips with a memory she never made?

It doesn’t matter though, because to her, it certainly felt that way.

Andrew is sitting in the driver's seat, glazed over eyes staring at the way rain beats down on his windshield. He’s been parked outside her house for longer than anything that would constitute a normal amount of time – though, he doesn’t exactly know where the threshold between normal and creepy ex-boyfriend is.

Well, ex-fiance. Though, he isn’t sure if semantics matter.

The gentle buzz of the engine is the only thing joining the swoosh of the near violent downpour. They haven’t experienced rain like that in a while; swollen droplets pouring from the milk sky in a slanted fashion. So intense that even the tallest trees seem to be weighed down by the weight of it, branches adopting a downward curve and leaves hanging despondently.

And still, it isn't the prospect of getting drenched on the brief walk to her front door that stops him from getting out of the car. It's the fear that he’s making a bigger mistake than he did five years ago that rivets him to the driver's seat, fingers still curved around the bottom of the wheel, the tips of his toes tapping the gas pedal as the car lingers in park.

She’s been more of a constant on his mind since that meeting at the farmers market a week ago, than she has been in the past few years. Still, Andrew wasn’t going to drive to her place that night, but somewhere between his first and second beer of the night, with a record that she gifted him playing as he tried to read – but couldn’t – it dawned on him; what if she was it?

Andrew hardly believes in true love or anything of the sort, but he does believe that every once in a while the stars align so perfectly that constellations are more visible and more beautiful than they’ve ever been, and you meet someone whose life changes the trajectory of yours forever. You're meant to be intertwined, like roots twisting and tangling around each other in that graceful, effortless way.

What if she's all of that to him, and much, much more, but he never sees her again? Because that was the last time; it must be some kind of death – to never feel her eyes on him again, to only ever hear her voice in his memory for the rest of his life, like a phantom haunting his mind. To never again feel the way it does when her arms go around him and she presses her body to his, and suddenly they’re nothing more than two puzzle pieces, made with each other in mind.

That little epiphany came over Andrew in a rush, knocking the air from his chest and making him feel as if he’d just been tackled by a wave and smashed face first into freezing cold water. In his chest, he felt a sort of panic that he could only associate with drowning rise up, threatening to spill out of his throat. He didn’t think he could live like that.

He still doesn't think that a life that she is gone from is survivable.

But as he parked along the curb near her driveway, one fear gives way to another;

What if Y/n doesn’t feel the same way at all? What if she doesn’t regret their untimely demise as much as he does? What if the best love he’s ever gotten nothing but a figment of the past? Lost forever, so far behind him that its entirely out of reach.

What if he does get out of his car, beats against the angle of the rain and trudges to her front door, only for her to tell him that she doesn’t want them anymore?

That she’d actually heard when he said he’d missed her, but pretended not to so she wouldn’t have to deal with the messiness of his feelings.

That might be the only thing worse than never seeing her again. And that is why he’s still in the car.

But he won’t know unless he tries, right? It isn’t the reasoning with the most integrity, but its the only thing keeping him there – he just wishes it was enough to get him out of the damn car.

Andrew is staring at a window, a window that he knows with absolute certainty looks into the living room, when he notices the thin, sheer curtain shift slightly. The movement doesn’t last long enough for him to determine who the person behind the window is, but when the front door swings open a handful of seconds later and Y/n steps into the middle of the doorway, Andrew spares himself from thinking too hard on the matter.

She’s holding her cardigan closed at the front, and it falls to the middle of her thighs, effectively hiding the shorts he knows she’s wearing underneath. By the silvery glow of the rainy evening and the sickening yellow hue of the bulb mounted over the porch, Andrew can see her form on the threshold, frozen, like something plucked out of his memories.

He can see her again, one leg crossed over the other as she leans on the doorframe as she watches him playing the piano;

“That sounds nice, its new?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, lifting his fingers off the keys and turning to look at her, “like it?”

Y/n hums, pushing off the frame and sauntering over to him, feet bare and dressed in nothing but the crewneck he’d been wearing the evening before. When her fingers, delicate and gentle, clasp his broad shoulders, Andrew leans into her touch, allowing her to eventually slink them forward. “I love it, its so beautiful,” with her fingers splayed on his chest, Y/n bends so her chin sits on his shoulder, “would you teach me how to play it?”

He chuckles. In all the years they’ve known each other, Y/n has never been interested in learning to play an instrument – she always jokes about being tone deaf. “You sure?”

“Positive,” her lips on his cheek are quick, he almost misses the sensation before fully registering it and if it weren't for the resolve in her eyes, Andrew would pull her in for another, longer kiss.

“Alright,” he reaches for her hand, encouraging her to slip it off his shoulder before guiding her around the small, varnished, oak bench. Y/n goes to sit beside him, but Andrew’s hand on her hip, sneaked under the hem of the thick jumper, urges her onto his lap. “This is better,” he rasps, breath tickling her jaw as he presses his cheek to hers, the bristle of his beard on her skin making her giggle.

“This is how you’d teach somebody?” She laughs, and the sound, coupled with the way she leans against him, makes his chest feel full.

“This is how I’d teach you, sweetheart.” When Y/n angles her head to catch a glimpse of him, he can see the warmth in her cheeks, and takes the opportunity to steal a peck off her lips, “now, pay attention.”

Her hands are much smaller than his, making it easy for him to completely cover them with his long fingers. “I’m gonna show you,” he breathes, “and then you’ll try on your own.” Slowly, he guides her through a single line of the melody he’d been working on. “Do you understand?” He props his chin on her shoulder, leaning his head against hers. He loves having Y/n this close, he isn’t sure if he’s ever told her but there’s something about the weight of her on top of him that stirs a sensation that he’s never felt anywhere else. Maybe its peace or comfort or safety – maybe its some combination of all three, wrapped into one magical thing.

“No,” Y/n returns, tone flat, albeit just as hushed as his.

Andrew barks a chuckle that turns out louder than he expected it to be. “You’re not paying attention,” he reprimands gently.

“I’m trying,” Y/n defends, voice pitched, “but my teacher is…….distractingly close.”

“Don’t blame this on me,” he scoffs, wrapping his arms around her middle, squeezing her to him. Her shoulders shake in a fit of laughter as he peppers her neck in a series of ticklish kisses as he loses himself in the way the cologne still clinging to his jumper mingles with the remnants of lavender left behind by her body wash.

“I’m not gonna learn to play this, am I?” Y/n shifts when he pulls away for a brief moment. Her head is tilted a little, mouth barely a hair away from his and the barest tips of their noses are touching.

Lifting one of his hands to thread his fingers threaded through her hair, Andrew eagerly closes the sliver of distance, “not today you’re not.”

A crack of thunder jolts Andrew out of the memory and in an instant, he’s back in the confines of his car, gaze fixed on Y/n as she lingers in the doorway. He needs to get out of that damn car – that prison that's kept him from her long before she pointed it out.

On impulse, he hastily shuts the engine off, and pushes the door open. Within a minute of getting out and shutting the door, Andrew’s coat and the sweater he’s wearing under it is soaked through and his hair is matted to the sides of his face. His shoes hit the gently sloped driveway with a wet, squishing sound with each step as he trudges towards the front door.

“Andrew, what the fuck?" Y/n breathes when he stops at the bottom of the porch steps.

He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. The rain is still pounding against his back and head, but he doesn’t dare take another step forward. “I had to see you,” he explains simply. Roughly, he brushes some wet hair away from his brow, “I just-I can't…..I can’t live like that –”

“Andy –”

“No,” he cuts her off desperately, “I know you don’t want me here,” he licks his lips, “but you need to hear this – I need you to hear this,” he pauses, but not near long enough for her to get a word in. “I just….I was thinking….what if that was the last time we saw each other? Could you live like that? Cause I couldn’t. Not without looking for you everywhere I go; every bookstore, at the grocery, every street. At the fucking farmer’s market,” where he’ll linger at every vendor selling strawberries on the off chance of running into her. “Just everywhere,” in every reflection when he pauses to look at a storefront and on planes that take him to places she wouldn’t go without plausible reason, “But I’d never find you because that was the last time.” Swallowing thickly, he ducks his head and wet tendrils fall over his face, disrupting his view of their feet, his clad in water-logged converse, and hers bare with blue, painted nails. “I know you said that I’m good on my own, and I guess I used to be,” Andrew slumps his shoulders, “but I’m not anymore. And I’ll never be again –”

“Andy –”

“Please,” finally, he comes up the trio of steps that leads to her small, covered porch. “I’m different now.”

Y/n slumps her shoulders, tilting her head slightly to the side as she blinks away tears, “I was just gonna tell you to come inside,” she says softly when he stops, “you’re gonna catch a cold or something,” there’s a crack in her voice and Y/n scoffs when a lone tear creeps down her cheek. She doesn’t even want to think of him getting sick on her account, especially when he’ll probably be all alone and miserable. She thinks about that sometimes – who’s taking care of him when he forgets to take care of himself?

With the back of her sleeve, Y/n brushes at her cheek before reaching for one of his hands. “I never wanted you to be….different. I wanted…..I wanted you to be who you are….but right next to me,” her thumb grazes his knuckles and Andrew revels in a miniscule shred of contact. It's nothing compared to having her in his lap or her arms around his shoulders, but it's more than he’s had in a damn long time and he’s never been more grateful for anything else.

“I can do that now,” Andrew promises earnestly.

Sighing heavily, she glances away, “but I don’t know that. I won’t live like that again,” so haunted by something she almost has, but never truly will. The ‘almost’ that he became. Almost close enough to let her in, almost ready to let his guard down, almost her husband.

“You won't have to,” Andrew gives her hand a promising squeeze, “I swear. I swear to you, it’ll be different –”

“But I don’t –”

“I can’t live like this,” he urges, “I can’t….” Andrew shakes his urgently, “do you still love me?”

Y/n’s slumps her shoulders, “of course I do.” How could she not? After pouring so many years into their relationship, after years aching to break the wall he kept between them. After spending every minute since the one she took the ring off – the one that makes her hand feel like it's missing something even now – thinking about what they could have been. Really, dare he ask her that?

“Then how could you never want to see me again?” He asks desperately.

A sharp inhale is her initial response, and Y/n thinks back on those first moments after Andrew had approached her the week before – the relief she felt in seeing him, the way that when they hugged, it felt like something was finally going right in her life. There’s so much she’d kept to herself that day, mostly because she was so sure that he was over her and couldn’t possibly still be thinking of them, not the way she does. Everyday when she steeps tea that she doesn’t really like, or goes out into her garden but can’t think straight, because it was something they'd done together.

Its why she let the strawberry bushes die, and weeds overtake the flowers along the back fence before clearing them out.

“I could never want that,” Y/n finally manages, voice soft and fragile, “I think about you all the time.” The strawberries have been rotting in her fridge because she can barely stand to look at them without recalling what it felt like to slip that ring into his pocket.

The warmth the metal had soaked up from being on her finger, the crack in his voice when he said, “honey, please.”

“Then come back,” he rasps, letting go of her hand in favor of taking a gentle hold on her hips.

Y/n’s find his chest, fistfuls of his wet hoodie bunching up in her fingers, the fabric heavy and cold. “Don’t hurt me again,” she pleads softly, inching closer.

Andrew lifts one of his hands from her hip to cup her cheek, his long fingers dwarfing the side of her face, “I wouldn’t.” He roves his thumb over the apple of her cheek, and his breathing settles a little. He hadn't realized just how on-edge he’d felt since she left until right now, when he’s touching her again and it feels like the first inkling of peace he’s had in five years. “I don’t want us to be strangers,” Andrew adds.

“Just let me in then,” Y/n encourages in the same, hushed tone.

Swallowing thickly, he nods, “I will. I want to,” lowering his head, Andrew presses his forehead to hers. “You’re the only person I want this close – for my whole life, I just want it to be you.”

When their lips meet, he feels her shudder just as a shiver runs up his back. It isn't from the cold, or the uncomfortable way in which the fabric is sticking to his skin. It's from the realization that there's never been a homecoming quite like this one. There isn't anything that compares to this; it's like having some lost part of himself snap back into its rightful place.

“Please,” he rasps against the plush softness of her lips, “please let it be you.”

Whatever little resolve she's managed to build up over the years, the scraps that kept her from seeking him out after she walked out, has been entirely ebbed away. Staying away is easier when he isn't at her doorstep, offering her exactly what she's wanted for so long. “Always,” with one hand flattened against the center of his chest, she reaches up to brush away some wet hair matted to his damp brow. “It’ll always be me,” she promises earnestly;

No one can love him the way she does anyway, its a fact that Y/n is entirely certain of.

When she presses her lips to his again, the rain is still coming down around them, though while the sound has been suffocating, Andrew finds that its fading now – all the noises that seem to make the world a little unbearable is so much quieter, and he thinks it might be the universe’s way of telling him that this is the way things are meant to be.

******

Tagging: @tungledotfuck

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier fanfiction #fanficton #fanfic #what if this is the last time I see you?#then it would only be second to death

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choclatecoveredlove · 6 hours ago

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Tunnel of Love ❤︎

Playful Land is one of the coolest theme parks ever! The rides were exhilarating and the attractions were even able to keep finicky Floyd’s attention. However, you noticed something as you were checking out the map once more.

“Hey what’s this thing here?” You asked Fellow as you showed him the map. He stifled a sigh before glancing at the map.

“Oh, that? Why that’s our… ‘Tunnel of Love.’ It’s popular amongst couples, but i’m sure a blossoming young scholar like yourself wouldn’t be interested in something so trivial.”

Fellow clearly didn’t know you very well, because just as he was finishing his sentence you grabbed the hand of the guy you had feelings for and dragged him towards the Tunnel of Love with you!

Ace

you wanna go on WHAT with him?????

acts embarrassed and like he doesn’t want to ride but he does

you just can’t tell deuce that he went on this ride. he’ll never hear the end of it.

“of course you’d pick something lame to ride.” “well you don’t have to go on it with me.” “no we’re gonna ride it now.”

“ugh this ride sucks. it’s so slow and boring.”

he’ll groan while reaching out to grab your hand. yknow just in cause there’s an unexpected drop or something. (there is no drop)

he had fun and will smile about it when it thinks about it later on

does he thinks it’s worth the teasing from trey and cater? “well… maybe.”

Trey

he’s embarrassed, like really embarrassed.

not because he’s embarrassed to be seen with you or afraid he’ll be teased (which is unavoidable) but because he’s not very experienced with this kind of thing

“so..is it alright if i hold your hand?”

he’s glad the lighting is so dim in this tunnel; he would hate for you to see him so red in the face

he’s kind of awkwardly silent the enter time because he has no idea what to do or say

however as the ride goes on you notice him scoot continuously closer and closer to you

he gathers the courage to give you a small kiss on the cheek as you get off the ride

“sorry i was weird. let’s do that again some time. i’ll definitely make a bolder move then.”

Cater

he knew about the tunnel of love from social media posts and was gonna ask you first but you beat him to the punch

he’s gonna take so many pictures (for his own personal collection)

“okay, now let’s make a heart with our hands! cute~! scoot closer to me now. mwah~ got you!”

what a sly guy… and he got it all on camera

he doesn’t spend the whole time taking pictures though. he wants to savor the moment alone with you as well

he is immune to the teasing of the others- they’re probably just jealous he gets to spend 1 on 1 time with you

“am i gonna post the pics on magicam? no way. they’re just for me~!”

Leona

“no.” “pleaseeeee????” “no.”

he says while standing in line and waiting to get on the ride with you.

it’s something to do at least. “beats babysitting the rest of that lot.”

you were gonna try and be flirty and put your head on his shoulder but he beat you to it.

“wake me up when this is over.”

how romantic. leona asleep on you. (っ- ‸ - ς)

for leona though, he actually had a good time. taking a nap on you after a long day of being annoyed by a bunch of herbivores? he enjoys it

he’ll never tell you that though. but you can assume from the faint smile that graces his face as he gets off the ride with you

Jack

ooooo somebody’s tail is wagging

not that he’ll admit that he’s excited or anything. because he’s definitely not.

if you thought trey was awkward get a load of this guy! he’s as stiff as a board and won’t even look at you

“nervous? ‘m not nervous.. there’s not anything to be nervous about.”

sure jack everyone believes you (¬_¬")

if you’re expecting any moves to be made that’s too bad. he won’t even brush against your shoulder.

however, if you make a move he will initially tense up before relaxing somewhat and beginning to enjoy himself

Jade

“how incredibly bold of you.”

this is all incredibly fascinating to him, human amusement parks, human courting rituals, and of course you’re fascinating as usual.

he’s unsure of what you expect out of this interaction how ever he’ll try his best to live up to your expectations.

he’ll hold your hand, put his arm around your shoulder, allow your head to rest against his shoulder, everything a gentleman would do.

tbh he was a little worried initially when you said you wanted to go on a ride with him but thankfully it wasn’t a thrill ride.

“this is much more fun anyways.”

Floyd

floyd is always up for a new experience: especially with you!

you just pray he doesn’t get bored halfway through and tries to get off

“wowie shrimpy~ you wanna spend time with me alone? can’t promise you’ll come back in one piece.”

he’s joking. (probably) (•᷄- •᷅ ;)

he cannot sit still on the ride

“heyyy why is this thing moving so slow? you said this would be fun. you’re not keeping me entertained at all. you better make it up to me later, kay?”

he’s expecting you to keep him entertained and content so you better not let him down

Kalim

he is beaming from ear to ear

he loves spending time with you!!

and for once jamil isn’t here to tell him ‘leave them alone.’ ‘they have better things to do.’ ‘you can’t take up all their time.’

he so excited he’s physically vibrating while waiting in line

tries to very subtly hold your hand and smiles when you take your hand in his.

he’s very gentlemanly. “it wouldn’t make you uncomfortable if i kissed you, would it?” no matter the answer he’s just happy to be around you

“that was so fun! can we go again? or maybe five more times? please!”

Vil

you think you can casually ask him to go on a romantic ride with him? you’ve got guts, he’ll give you that much

“well… fine. but no pictures. and no telling anyone else about this either. especially rook.”

he looks so refined sitting next to you and under the dimmer light he looks majestic

“i’m not going to kiss you on this.”

HEARTBROKEN ૮(˶ㅠ︿ㅠ)ა

“i’m sure we can find somewhere much more romantic to do that. rather than this gimmicky ride.”

so he didn’t enjoy it… but he still likes you though ♡⸜(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)⸝♡

Lilia

how fun!! he’s never experienced like this before and he’s glad he can experience it with you.

he takes a couple a pictures so that he can show malleus, silver, and sebek later “they’re going to be so jealous of us.”

he’s ancient so he’s aware of how to be romantic and to how to be a gentleman (only if he wants to be though)

he’s extremely flirtatious, he’ll lean in close only to whisper “you know, you’ve got something in your teeth.”

then in the next moment he will entangle his hand with yours and help you out of the ride. he’ll skip back with you to the rest of the group grinning slyly

Fellow

he was definitely not expecting that.

he personally doesn’t care for the tunnel of love, in fact he thinks it’s a little gross. the last thing he wants to see is couples making out.

but he has to keep up the act of gracious host, doesn’t he?

fine. he’ll smile and bare it. he just knows gidel will never let him live it down though.

well at least you are kinda cute. maybe he won’t hate it entirely.

“my, my! you’d like to ride it with me? i’m honored to spend one on one time with such a prestigious scholar such as yourself.”

#i’m an eng player but i refuse to call this man ernesto #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst sebek #disney twst #twst fanfic #twst wonderland #twst ace #twst trey #twst cater #twst leona #twst jack #twst jade #twst floyd #twst kalim #twst vil #twst lilia

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all-pacas · 2 days ago

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i mentioned this in the notes but. you know what. let's add it to this insanity: the way cameron ties into this. the way chase is absolutely, positively sure with her. for the first time in his life, with all his doubts and all his attempts to be good and obedient and do what he's told and follow the script of god, of his father, he… falls in love. and he's sure.

CHASE: You have doubts. CAMERON: And you don’t? CHASE: No. CAMERON: Well, that’s… naïve. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you. That’s how I feel right now. But I don’t… know. CHASE: I’ll wait until you do. CAMERON: I can’t know. No one knows. CHASE: I do.

ten years from now, he says. he has no doubts, he's absolutely sure, probably for the first time in his life: this is his path, he's figured it out, he knows, and six months later it's over. (no wonder, btw. no wonder chase doesn't seriously date again after this. not because of cameron, exactly: because of what all that meant and represented. another attempt at defining his life and finding direction, and it didn't even last a year.)

by s7 and s8, house pretty regularly accuses chase of being afraid of intimacy, of sleeping around to avoid relationships and connections. chase was presented as a flirt before this, but not that.

he falls immediately for moira, the nun, someone also struggling with guilt (the boy she nannied died, she blames herself) and faith and who wants desperately to find meaning, to find purpose. it was a rebound, chase seems to admit house is correct on that front, but that doesn't mean it wasn't real, that moira wasn't a mirror to his every internalized struggle. he tells her he was married once, that he can do relationships.

MOIRA: I tried the outside world. It wasn't enough. CHASE: Ever been married? MOIRA: No. CHASE: No kids. You never found a career. Doesn't sound like the outside world got much of a try. What you're headed towards now, fourteen hours a day in silent prayer, never having a family, never touching another human being. MOIRA: Just because that's what you'd miss the most. The nurses talk. CHASE: Nothing's wrong with having fun. MOIRA: They said you were almost killed three weeks ago. You go right back to fun? CHASE: Is that why you wanna be a nun? Someone broke your heart? MOIRA: No. I'm just looking for something more. CHASE: So am I.

no marriage. no kids. no family. "nothing wrong with having fun," he says, but plenty of other episodes explicitly say he finds sleeping around boring, he is bored on his date later this episode, it isn't fun.

HOUSE: Or you're terrified of intimacy, which is why you're a serial slut. But right now you're grasping at an emotional life raft. Ideally someone for whom intimacy's not an option. That actually makes sense, which I can't say about anything else you've been doing.

honestly, has chase ever really had much of the 'outside world?' he's probably known he would be a doctor since he was a child. he doesn't hate it, but did he ever have a chance to consider anything else? he has a career, but in this episode he's doubting and regretting it. in the last episode, he looks scared, not proud, to have his name on the door. he's not unhappy. i really don't think he is. but he's never had much choice either. he doesn't have any of the things he tells moira she'll want, either.

and yes it is all tied together. the constant searching and longing for meaning and purpose. moira has it. he doesn't. the one brief window chase did have meaning and purpose and what he wanted (family, intimacy, love, certainty) slammed shut, and continues to affect and fuck with him for years after; he's still reacting to it even now. ("i was married," he assures moira. "i can do relationships.") insane

Okay need to make a post entirely about chase being insane about religion. Chase's endless religious cycling. how badly and desperately and clearly he wants to believe, how much he wants faith and god, and how he can never quite - make it. Never quite get there. How he openly admires and defends the faith of others, faith and prayer as concepts, how he turns to confession in a crisis, how he still has large parts of the bible committed to memory, how he never answers any questions about his faith, if he believes in God, if anything.

In Damned If You Do, he shares his favorite bible verse with the nun. The episode itself paraphrases it a little, but the verse he mentions reads:

In this you rejoice, though now for a little while you may have to suffer various trials, so that the genuineness of your faith, more precious than gold which though perishable is tested by fire, may redound to praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ.

(you will suffer. it will be so hard. you will be tested. gold can be melted and your faith is more valuable, and if you keep trying, you will be rewarded, you will.)

(AUGUSTINE: Why did you leave the seminary? CHASE: That test. You passed, I failed.)

Here Kitty:

PATIENT: Do you want to tell me what an idiot I'm being? CHASE: No. I really believe that there are things that science can't understand. That there is a role for faith and prayer. But it's in the waiting room. Not the O.R. PATIENT: There's a reason I got sick. There's a reason for all the bad things that have happened to me. I don't know what that reason is. But I know that if there isn't one… If there's no greater purpose in the world. Then it's not a world I want to live in. CHASE: I'll schedule an operating room.

House Training:

CHASE: You want to go get drunk? FOREMAN: No thanks. I’ve got paperwork. CHASE: Listen, I don’t… I don’t know what I believe, but sometimes I need to think there’s something out there paying attention. So when I can’t talk to anybody, I talk to God, and pretend somebody’s listening. We were all wrong, Foreman. Even House was wrong. FOREMAN: I know.

He leaves the chapel in Damned if You Do. He prays for the baby in Forever. He gives the woman in Here Kitty her risky surgery; he defends the faith healer and Wilson's girlfriend's faith in House vs. God.

House vs. God:

HOUSE: When you were in seminary, did God ever talk to you? CHASE: …No.

Chase:

I always wanted to believe. It would have made my life a lot easier. It never took.

(AUGUSTINE: You told me your favorite passage. Would you like to hear mine? “Celebrate and be glad, for your brother was dead and is alive again.” CHASE: …The prodigal son.)

#robert chase #malpractice posting

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pawfulofwaffles · 1 year ago

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soft-serve-soymilk · 7 months ago

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Adventures in writing my English SAC, also known as 550 words of Theon being an angsty bitch,,

#just pav things #Sure I had to adapt some things like making his backstory a tad bit different to fit in the 50 minute timeframe I had to write #So rather than the pseudo time-travel there’s an alternative universe where all of his siblings become spiriters instead telethia-style #DOLPHIN DON’T SEARCH TELETHIA UP YOU WILL GET IMMEDIATELY SPOILED FOR XC1 #Also I had to cut the lucid dreamer bit too because it wasn’t necessary to the plot #But it ended up being in the style of Bidngen which was one of the mentor texts we had to draw from #And I used the mandatory prompt of ✨ personal journeys ✨ to explore how violence begets violence #Theon shuns flowers as a sign of the destructive rich but at the end he says he’s a flower as well #Where he was once a victim of hatred he lashes out with the same hate against the spiriters #And so it covers his emotional journey in dealing with his trauma (badly) as well as his physical/temporal one :)#Also I wish I had more time to make his first-person voice actually. A child’s instead of it being ambiguous #He sounds like Inigo which Isn’t Wrong and it makes sense for him to be precocious but there’s a certain flamboyancy to his voice #And also Theon would not know this many big words. He is uneducated. Alas.#The problem with my first-person fiction despite my gravitas towards it is that #it’s hard to separate my authorial voice and vocab with my childrens’ 😅 in my eyes anyways #Probably why I still feel so disdainful for all of my past writing for YHNN. It doesn’t read right 😣#The only exception is any instances where I’ve written first-person pov for Archie which was most notably in my Yr 11 exams #We share the same whimsy ig ✨💯

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transkingcobra · 6 months ago

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#Hm yes complaining about one poor joke that makes the ones following it hit different #is definitely me saying the receiver is the only one allowed to say such style jokes #Sorry I didn’t specify all trauma jokes are bad #that they’re expected from bad characters not good ones #that that one singular joke is the only trauma joke to stand out to me out of the entire game #that I love the characters being nuanced but that first joke just feels too far #that I love the character I was speaking about and wish there was more in the game for him like everyone else wishes for too #Sorry I have an issue with big feels around one (1) singular dialogue #and the post was about as serious as his jokes to begin with #I loved the second two jokes until I saw the first one #and yes I saw them out of order because apparently I missed it my first run #yes I get it if you don’t like any form of dislike for the man #especially against the vamp #but that is literally my only issue with the man fuckin chill #everything else far outweighs that one joke to the point I forget it entirely #which just makes it punch me in the face every game #so sorry I shared a minor experience #about act 1 dialogue where no one is chill towards the others #well what should be act 1 dialgoue #I’ve gotten the dialogue after killing caz because that was just the first time I had them together #and it’s hilarious because caz is still offered up as a first vamp kill #also not to mention the boys grow to love each other same as everybody else #and the ship is mm good #so sorry I also didn’t state I don’t think they hate each other #considering this is act 1 between a hunter and the shit he’s supposed to be hunting #my own ranger if he could speak would absolutely make remarks about the vamp being careful along with the other monster hunter #main difference is he would be able to jump in and say he has killed a vamp before and offer the man help for his first #everyone is a ‘bitch’ toward the vamp at first #that’s normal yeah they wanna make it a point they’ll drop kick him into the sun if he’s a threat #sorry the one joke hits different but I don’t actually think the man is a bitch he’s a fucking ray of sunshine with one poor joke

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 4 months ago

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tell me again that you hate me

a/n: i kinda just poured all of the filth ever into this one fic... you're welcome.

summary: “you know, I could help you. Pop that little cherry for you,” he shrugged as if he didn’t seem out of his mind for what he was brashly uttering, “you desperately need it, that fucking stick up your ass makes you such a bitch to be around. But no one is gonna wanna bang you, I mean, maybe you could be kinda hot if you weren’t such a fucking loser, if you didn’t dress like a fucking pogue, but I don’t think anyone would commit social suicide like that. So, I’ll take care of it. Fix that problem for the good of everyone else.”

warnings: bully!stepbro!rafe cameron x virgin!reader, smut, dark content, dubcon/noncon, enemies to lovers, rafe is in college while reader is still in high school (everyone is over 18), blackmail, alcohol consumption, allusion to drug use, drunk driving, hidden cameras, panty stealing, references to somno, possessiveness, kissing, loss of virginity, size kink, belly bulge, pain kink, dirty talk, impact play, oral, pussyjob, just the tip, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, cumplay, no aftercare and not really any foreplay, public sex, rafe is mean and pervy and dark but it's all fun because it's just a silly fantasy

word count: 5153

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Your life had turned into a living nightmare.

You thought that when your high school bully graduated, you’d finally get rid of him. But little did you know what the future held in store, just who your own mother would decide to marry and what particular family you’d be forced to fuse with.

Rafe Cameron had been the bane of your existence for years. Sure, when you’d first met him, you admittedly had a bit of a crush on him, but that was until he noticed you and truly showed you the notorious bully that he was. And now that he, the very person who had turned your teenage years into literal hell, had become your stepbrother, you couldn’t wait to get out of there, move halfway across the globe just to never see his face again.

It also didn’t help matters that you got situated in the room right next to his, even had to share a Jack and Jill bathroom with him.

Now what you didn’t know was how Rafe’s feelings truly were towards you. How he only started bullying you because you made him feel some type of way that no other chick did, but you came from the wrong side of the island, so getting those feelings out in the form of cruelty only seemed natural to a guy such as him. You had no idea that it was actually you whom he thought about every time he jerked off on the other side of that incredibly thin wall you shared, or even that his wicked fascination with you only seemed to grow now that you were a part of the family.

The impatient knocks were no use, so swiftly you swung the door to Rafe’s bedroom open. He was nowhere in sight, but before you could turn around to search for him in another place, the light that his computer monitor blared out into the space caught your eye.

Your vision however grew wide as soon as you saw the taboo tab that was open. It was porn, but not just any porn. The open page was littered with rows and rows of graphic videos that all fell under the stepsister search he had typed in.

Frozen in your stance, you wanted to sprint out of there, though at the same time, some part of you wanted to inch closer and snoop further.

“What the fuck are you doing in my room?” a voice blared from behind you and caused you to jump.

Skittering away from the desk, you spotted the familiar buzzcut standing in the doorway.

“I–, uh,” you swallowed and recalled the reason for your hunt, “my mom’s forcing me to go to that party at Topper’s tonight.”

“Okay, and?” he scoffed.

“And so, because I don’t really do that sort of thing–”

“Because you’re a fucking loser who never gets invited.”

“Because I have better things to spend my Friday nights doing, your father wanted you to keep an eye on me and to make sure I got home safe.”

The only way you were gonna get through the night was if you got as wasted as possible.

Which is exactly what you ended up doing.

When the clock chimed two, the raging headache you were developing from the blaring music convinced you to finally call it a night. You’d given it enough of a chance, enough experience to go home and state that partying simply wasn’t for you.

But if you didn’t find the literal demon of a stepbrother and let him complete his end of the bargain, then maybe your mom wouldn’t believe you alone and force you to go to another.

However, locating him turned out to be a much more difficult task than you’d thought. As you stumbled around the massive house, supporting your wobbly weight on the walls as you peeked into each of the rooms where some partygoers had migrated to, you soon dug your phone out of your jeans and dialled up his number.

It was on the third attempted call that you finally stumbled into him. Sitting with a random blonde on his lap and the remnants of a mysterious white powder dusting the coffee table separating you from him.

“There you are,” you grumbled, “I’ve been trying to call you!”

His expression turned sour as he noticed your presence, swiftly flipping his phone around as it layed on the table, though the caller ID that lit up the screen wasn’t of your name as your phone still buzzed in your palm to get through to him. Instead, it spelt out fleshlight in big bold letters.

“So, you have,” he exhaled, “what do you want?”

“I wanna go home,” you shoved your phone back in your pocket.

“So, go home. What do you want my fucking permission? Are you that obsessed with me?”

“You have to take me home,” you reminded him, though when he began to laugh in your face, you shot back, “or you can just deal with your dad yourself when you get home. Your choice if you wanna keep being in his good graces or not.”

That managed to shut him up. Though as he reluctantly pushed the blonde aside and got up from the couch, he muttered just loud enough for you to hear, “fucking prude,” like a curse on the wind just before he marched passed you and grabbed a hold of your arm to drag you with him.

“Ow, Rafe, you’re hurting me!” you tried to tear yourself free of his grip.

“Oh, shut up you baby, no I’m not. You wanna feel what does hurt?” his long fingers then dug further into your flesh and caused it to actually ache, “this.”

As he pushed open the front door, you whined, “ow, please stop,” but when he finally did, he only traded the grasp out with a light shove to your shoulder, directing you further towards his parked car.

When you were planted in the passenger seat with your gaze firmly fixed out the window as the dark streets rolled by, you crossed your arms and mumbled, “I hate you…” gaining enough courage from the dizzying alcohol ravaging your system to utter it out loud.

“What was that?” Rafe cast a glance in your direction.

Twisting your neck to glare back at him, you hesitantly repeated, “I hate you,” though the faint flicker of bravery you’d acquired was snuffed out as swiftly as it ignited when you saw the smirk that bloomed on your stepbrother’s features.

“Aw, don’t tell me that, princess,” he chuckled, “you’ll just make me hard.”

Eyes widening, they briefly fluttered down to the crotch of his trousers before you blinked away, a reaction that was evidently satisfying enough for Rafe to cause him to keep going.

“But you probably wouldn’t know what to do with it anyway.”

“I know what to do,” you said defensively, though regretted your humouring him as soon as the words slipped out past your lips.

“Oh yeah? Just how would you know that? Everyone knows you’re a fucking virgin,” something he was to blame for, though that wasn’t a fact you ever had to know. You didn’t have to be aware of just how many times he had stopped guys from asking you out, just because he wanted you all to himself, “but are you secretly a perv, sis? Is that how you think you know what to do?”

“Don’t call me that,” you cringed lightly.

“What? A perv? Or sis? Don’t you wanna be reminded that you’re my stepsister?”

“Not particularly...”

As the car curved into the driveway to Tanny Hill, an offer suddenly rolled off Rafe’s tongue.

“You know, I could help you. Pop that little cherry for you,” he shrugged as if he didn’t seem out of his mind for what he was brashly uttering, “you desperately need it, that fucking stick up your ass makes you such a bitch to be around. But no one is gonna wanna bang you, I mean, maybe you could be kinda hot if you weren’t such a fucking loser, if you didn’t dress like a fucking pogue, but I don’t think anyone would commit social suicide like that. So, I’ll take care of it. Fix that problem for the good of everyone else.”

Your mouth hung agape as the vehicle rolled to a stop, the sudden shift made you fear that your latest drink would come up again.

Utterly stunned, you couldn’t form a single word as you stared back at him.

“I mean, it’s what you want, isn’t it?” he went on, turning in his seat to gaze over at you, already undressing you with his eyes, “haven’t you always had the hots for me?”

“I–…” it felt as if the car was swaying around even though it stood completely still, “…I drank way too much tonight, and I think you might have as well.”

“You’re drunk?” darkness glinted in his eyes, “well, I honestly don’t know if I should be impressed or run inside and wake everyone up so you can get grounded for fucking ever,” he laughed.

“No!” you gasped, “You can’t tell them, please! I–…” you felt tears begin to sting the corners of your eyes and blur up your already hazy vision, “fuck!”

Leaning even further back in his seat, he cocked his head, “I mean, I could also keep it a secret…” the tip of his tongue mischievously slipped out to poke his lip, “for the right price, that is.”

“Seriously?” you glared back at him, “are you serious right now?”

Capturing your hand, he swiftly brought it to the palpable tent in his pants, “do I not seem serious?” his eyes narrowed ever so slightly to a squint.

Your lips parted in shock, stare flickering away from his eyes to spot how he ever so slightly pressed your palm down against him.

He was so hard that you could nearly feel his pulse through the fabric of his trousers.

“I mean, really I’d be helping you out,” your gaze stayed glued to how his broad hand engulfed your own a moment longer before you glanced up to find his unwavering stare once more, “so you should really thank me for both keeping your secret and doing you such a massive favour…”

As a shaky breath escaped your lungs, you whispered once more, “I hate you…”

But the proclamation only conjured a smile to appear on his lips, “tell me again,” and he leaned in a bit closer.

“I hate y–,” but you didn’t get the last bit out as Rafe then crashed his lips against yours.

It took a second for you to react with anything other than a surprised whimper, but when you did, it was slow and cautious compared to his boldness.

A string of saliva strung you together as he eventually parted from you. Offering himself a small caress, he pressed your palm down against him one last time before he let you go. His breathing was heavy as he momentarily let his thumb trace your bottom lip, briefly slipping it crudely in your mouth, before uttering, “get inside.”

Why, after all of this time, after all of the pain and torture he alone made you go through, why did he still have to give you butterflies the way that he did?

It was your room that he led you to, a hand ever rooted on you as you made the journey. At first, you thought it was because he saw the way you occasionally stumbled over your own feet, but perhaps it was just in case you wanted to make a run for it, just a precaution, a safety net already halfway over you.

“Take your clothes off,” he commanded in a cold tone as he shut the door behind you.

“W-what?” you turned to look back at him.

Sitting down on the edge of your bed, he repeated, “take your clothes off,” though they came out sounding slightly impatient.

He palmed himself through his pants as you slowly began to strip. Though as you’d shyly peeled your t-shirt off and dropped it to the floor, his voice halted you just as you began to undo your jeans.

“Stop,” his voice cut the thick air like a knife, “turn around when you pull those down,” you twisted away from him as your thumbs sank into either side of the waistband, “and do it slowly,” he made you put on a show, ogling as you gradually revealed the curve of your ass, “that’s it…” he nearly moaned as your pants crumbles to the floor, “bra and panties too, princess. Unless of course, you’re backing out of our deal already.”

Clenching your jaw, you squeezed your eyes shut and shed the rest, ignoring his soft wolf whistles and crude comments as you exposed yourself.

Slowly turning back around to face him, your hands were clasped before you out of sheer timidness and not knowing what to do with them.

“You gonna stand over there all night?” he raised his chin slightly.

When your feet stood rooted right before his seated position on the bed, your hands began to fiddle as he pulled his shirt over his head and caused your pulse to somehow beat even harder than it already did.

One of his palms then scooped up your stomach and briefly grabbed one of your tits before scooping you closer, “come here,” and utilised his leverage to toss you down on the bed beside him, “let me get a good look at you.”

Grabbing for the bedsheets as the mattress momentarily bounced beneath your spine, you blinked up at Rafe as he sat next to you, twisting his form and craning down to near your core.

You tried to clamber your legs shut, embarrassed for what his cruel reaction might be, but he was not only faster, but stronger than you, and grabbed a hold of your thighs. As he split you apart, his lips curled up into a grin.

“Look at you… fuck,” he let out a short chuckle, “this is gonna be fun.”

A gasp curled out of your frame as he then grazed his thumb over your folds, smearing some of the mortifying wetness that seeped out and made you feel even more intoxicated than you already were. He lightly spread you apart and studied intently your dripping pussy, how it looked, how it glistened and how your little hole twitched when he lightly circled your clit.

“Oh, you like this, don’t you?” he rubbed your puffy pearl with a mean lightness that caused your hips to buck slightly, “you like it when your big stepbrother touches you like this?” but when you didn’t reply, he reached down and grabbed your jaw, angling it for you to meet his eye, “answer me.”

“I–… y-yes,” you quietly admitted, feeling as if you were in some strange dream.

“Of course you do, you dirty little girl,” he bent down again to gaze at your pussy a little too close for your taste, “I knew you were a slut since the moment I met you.”

Letting go of your face, he then snaked his free hand down to give himself an ounce of relief.

“You know, part of me doesn’t even wanna prep you with my fingers first,” he smirked and let his fingertips sweep down to tickle your entrance, “I like the idea of not stretching you out first and letting my cock do all the work, let it feel just how tiny and pure you are for me.”

“But isn’t that gonna hurt?” your breath caught in your throat. Sure, you’d played with yourself nearly till your hands fell off, but that idea still managed to scare you.

“God, I hope so,” he groaned and briefly leaned down to press a hot kiss to your clit, sucking it into his mouth and sloppily making out with it.

When he then stood up and pulled his pants down, your jaw nearly hit the floor as well when you saw how thick his dick was. Fat and veiny, curving proudly up towards his abs.

Seizing your hips, Rafe yanked you closer to where he stood, nearly letting your ass dangle over the edge of the mattress.

“Wait,” you suddenly reached out to touch his forearm as he gave himself a few lavish strokes, staring down at your cunt, comparing the obscene size of him to your puff, “what about a condom?” you squeaked as he flicked his leaking tip down to tap your core.

Sucking in a fierce breath through his nose, he glared down at you and shot back, “what about you shut the fuck up and just be grateful,” before he sent his open palm down to smack your pussy.

“Ah! I’m sorry, I just–, fuck!” you shuttered beneath him as he soothed the slap with the nudge of his length, rubbing it against you and teasing your cunt before he started sweeping it through your folds, nearly fucking your soppy slit, the tip of him kissing your little pearl on each silky advance.

A dollop of spit dropped from his lips and joined the mess he already tickled at between your parted legs.

“It’s too big…” you murmured as you stared down at how his fat girth parted your pretty petals, though the observation only conjured a smile on Rafe’s lips, “maybe you could just put the tip in?” you tried through your foggy mind, “that would still count.”

A rumbling chuckle bubbled out of him as he stared down at the two of you together, “just the tip…” his movements then grew more erratic as he slid through your folds, “is that all you think your little virgin cunt can handle?” shy gasps escaped you every time he deliberately let his cock catch at your opening, “just the tip?”

As he slowly pressed just the flush head of his length in to breach your entrance, your brows crinkled up at the mind-numbing stretch.

“Like that, baby?” he only moved ever so slightly, “is that all you think you can handle?” and you nodded foggily in return. But as you let your eyes flutter shut and breathed through the staggeringly wonderful sensation, Rafe’s voice once again washed over you, “nah,” like a splash of cold water while you were licking up warm sun rays, “that’s not good enough. This is,” and he then slammed the entirety of his length into you.

Your eyes instantly shot back open and your legs curled up even further on either side of you at the shock.

“What?” he cooed at you mockingly as he slowly dragged his dick back out for just the memory to remain, “does it hurt?”

You were a blubbering and cursing mess, trembling beneath him as your pussy tried to accommodate him.

“Come on, princess,” he bent down over you and let his nose ghost against yours, “tell me that it hurts.”

“It h-hurts,” you whimpered as his hot breath fanned across your blazing cheeks.

It did sting, a lot, but though you hated to admit it, a part of you loved it, a part of you sank even further into the pit of pleasure he so slowly dunked you into.

“Tell me that it’s too big for you,” he nuzzled his nose against yours as he plugged you back up.

Your body shook beneath his every time he moved as much as a millimetre inside you, “i-it’s too big.”

Letting out a low moan of satisfaction, he then leaned down to press his lips to yours, stealing your breath away even further.

You tried, but couldn’t really focus on kissing him back, not that he seemed to mind much as he moaned into your mouth, soon letting his sloppy kisses dance over your cheek and down your neck, letting hickeys bloom in his wake and mark up your skin like a brand.

As he sucked down on the spot where your pulse went wild beneath the skin, his hips drove against yours harder, causing them to collide in a sticky smack, as well as letting the tip of him bully the deepest part of you. He didn’t just do it once, but kept it up as he enjoyed the little squeaks you let out every time he bumped against your cervix.

Kissing his way back up to your lips, he only offered them the briefest of pecks before raising himself off of you, just ever so slightly, and one by one, grabbed your already wide-spread legs and rested each one of them onto his broad shoulders, efficiently folding you in half.

“H-holy shit,” you panted as the mattress rippled beneath you at every one of his rough thrusts, “Rafe–”

“Yeah?” he smirked down at your melted form, the vein in his forehead popping from the strain, “are you gonna cum? Are you gonna cum on your big bro’s dick?” one of his hands swept up to squeeze your tit, then gave it a swift tap before growling, “come on, princess. I can feel you squeezing me so fucking tight. Do it, I fucking dare you. Be a good girl and cum on my cock.”

You almost screamed as you tumbled over the edge, your head curling to the side to hide yourself in the crumbled duvet beneath you as your pussy gushed all over his fat girth.

“Oh, fuck,” Rafe croaked as he straightened back up to get a good view. Pulling out of you, he briefly flicked his dick through your folds to urge more of your nectar to leak out, before he slid it back inside and asked in amazement, “you ever squirted before?”

Trembling from the overstimulation, your eyes rolled in your skull as you shakily mumbled, “maybe twice, I think.”

“Such a good fucking slut,” he growled proudly, “squirting all over me like a proper whore. Just look at you,” his grip dented your thighs as he pressed them further down against the bed, “you’re already a pretty little cockdrunk mess.”

“I–, I–,” you blubbered as you felt drool begin to trickle down your cheek.

“Oh, fuck,” he then groaned, glancing down at where he split you apart, “hold your legs back,” he requested, though had to help your sluggish hands find their way, “look at this, baby,” he scooped a palm behind your head and ushered you to spot what he had noticed. Splaying a wide hand over the lower part of your stomach, he traced the faint bulge that rhythmically appeared, “sure as fuck not a virgin anymore, are you? Fucking ruining that perfect little pussy of yours. Now that’s how you pop a fucking cherry. Aren’t you happy I was in such a charitable mood tonight?” he then pressed down on the imprint rudely, the overwhelming sensation causing your pussy to drizzle a little more around him, “aren’t you, sis?”

“Yes,” you mewled, feeling as if you were floating on a cloud and not getting your guts rearranged.

“You’d let me do anything I’d fucking want, wouldn’t you?” he smirked down at your dazed form.

“Y-yes,” the word flowed out of you, though you couldn’t quite comprehend all of his dirty talk any longer.

“Hold on,” he briefly slowed down and stretched over to reach a small apprentice obscured and hidden in all of the cluttered decor on your nearby dresser. Turning it in his hand, he pointed the discrete camera down to film you, “say it again,” he picked his pace back up, “tell me that you’ll let me do anything I want to you.”

“Anything,” the words bubbled out through your moans, “anything you want.”

“Say that you’re my little slut.”

“I’m yours–, I-I’m your s-slut.”

Tilting the hidden camera down to get a few close-ups, his voice then seeped into you once more, “now tell me again that you hate me.”

One of your hands fluttered down and began to rub your puffy clit.

“I hate you.”

“Again,” he reached down to give your left nipple a harsh pinch.

“I hate you.”

“Keep going, princess.”

And the more times the phrase flowed out past your lips, the more it began to lose its meaning and morph into just another sound, one that was almost akin to the complete opposite kind of proclamation.

Just like you barely noticed when Rafe dug out the hidden camera, so too did you miss it when he put it back down, obscured somewhere among your things, possibly not even the only one.

When you came once again, Rafe didn’t so much as pause when you creamed around his cock and drenched the sheets beneath you that much further.

“There you fucking go,” he sent a palm down to smack the sensitive skin on your inner thigh, “god, you’re so hot. I can’t believe you actually let me do this,” he grinned as your fingers stretched out to graze his wild hips, trying and failing to slow him down, “you’re such a little freak,” he glanced down at the ring of your essence that marked the base of his throbbing cock, “so fucking nasty for your stepbrother. I bet you’d even let me keep using you after you fall asleep. I mean, who’s to say I haven’t already,” he chuckled, “you’re so fucking cute when you sleep. No annoying remarks, no dumb comments… I think I might prefer you that way…” his slamming grew sloppy as he soon moaned, “fuck, I’m gonna fucking cum.”

“Pull out,” you begged through your hazy pants.

And just when you thought he wouldn’t respect your wishes, he yanked out and furiously stroked himself before your winking and wrecked hole as it slowly retraced from the severe stretch. Moaning loudly, he swiftly painted your pussy with his load, getting it all over your puffy petals till he was panting above you. One hand rested on your thigh as he brushed the sensitive head of his cock over the cream, messily tapping the hefty weight of him against your aching clit and making you jump a few times as he smeared it in.

Throwing himself down on the bed beside you, he let out a long sigh and said, “you’re welcome.”

You felt like you couldn’t move, like you might never be able to move again. Your breath still came in ragged as the only thing you could focus on was the sore throbbing centred at your core, that blossomed out through the rest of your nerves.

“Well,” Rafe huffed as he soon lifted himself up to a sitting position, “night,” and without another word, slipped out through your shared bathroom into his own bedroom.

“I can’t believe they made you take me,” you grumbled as you watched Rafe shadow you in the clothing store, “I could have just gone to the mall on my own.”

“You don’t have a car though–, also, why are you the one complaining? I’m the one being forced to go fucking shopping with you of all people.”

Somehow, for some mysterious reason, since you’d moved into Tanny Hill, your collection of underwear had shrivelled down till you barely had enough to get you through the week. Guess that was the price you had to pay for letting someone else do your laundry, though you’d always assumed it would more just be a single sock that commonly vanished in the wash…

When you dipped into the fitting room to try a few of the gathered options on, you only managed to test out two of them before the curtain slid back open and you swiftly scrambled to cover yourself.

“Rafe!” you let out a hushed screech, “what do you think you’re–”

“Try these on,” he handed you a wide stack of hangers. It wasn’t just underwear dangling from them, but also some clothing, though all of it way too revealing than you were used to.

Glancing down at them, you refused to grasp the items and simply stated in a clear tone, “no.”

Letting out a low sigh, he then turned to close the curtain back up before he twisted back to face you, “do you need me to have a little talk with your mom and my dad?” he took a few steps towards you, slowly pushing you into the corner by the tall mirror.

Glaring back at him through your pout, you huffed, “no…”

You stayed in the corner as he then hung the clothing up on the hooks before taking a seat on the small stool where your purse was resting before he swept it to the floor.

“Are you just gonna sit there and watch?”

“Yeah,” he scoffed, “it’s boring as shit out there. At least in here, I might get a moderate amount of entertainment.”

Rolling your eyes, you reluctantly began to try the attire on.

“I hate thongs,” you muttered as you tugged a pair into place over your hip, trying not to catch your stepbrother’s stare as his gaze wandered from your reflection to the perfect view he had of your backside.

“I recall you hate a lot of things you still don’t hesitate to jump on.”

“Whatever,” you sighed, “you have your fun, enjoy this little fashion show, but I’m sure as hell not getting any of these.”

“Well, good,” he uttered demeaningly, “because I’m buying them for you.”

Catching his eye in the mirror, you told him, “I’m still not wearing them. You can’t make me.”

“Yeah,” he puffed out a smirk, “we’ll see about that,” and then tore his gaze away from you to gesture to one of the hangers, “try that dress on, but keep the pink thong on underneath, only the thong though.”

You had to shut your eyes in annoyance a moment before you fulfilled his request, soon standing before him in a scantily cut, pastel mini dress, crafted in a fabric so thin that you could see the faint shadow of your nipples poking through them, especially after they’d turned all pebbly after Rafe had torn that privacy curtain to the side.

“You happy now?” you turned to face him and propped your hands on either side of your hips.

“Hm,” he cockily pursed his lips as his gaze studied you, “I was right…”

Your brows stayed furrowed till you watched his palm slide down to squeeze himself through his shorts.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, eyes growing wide.

“You do look hot in normal clothes.”

“I don’t think any of this is normal…”

“I think it’s time you learned how to suck a cock,” he suddenly announced, eyes still glued to the dress’ low neckline as he unzipped his slacks.

“Rafe…” you breathed.

His eyes flickered up to find yours, “get on your knees,” he tilted his head, “come on, princess. You’ll love it, trust me.”

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valwrote · 6 months ago

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PICK YOUR DOMESTIC HUSBAND 🛒

WHICH HUSBAND IS ON THE DOMESTICITY MENU TODAY?

featuring: diluc, alhaitham, zhongli, wriothesley, neuvillette.

synopsis: glimpses into married life with the genshin men.

warnings: implied fem!reader, occasional pet names, ooc (I have a sparse idea how diluc works, mention of "activities" (just mention I can't write smut pls), silly goofy ah loser coded men, mild swearing (damn, heck)

a/n: *stretching my back and crunching my neck.* I'm back from the dead. apologies for the choppy writing. thanks for the support on the other posts, if only I could write 50-page essays thanking everyone. <33 :')) not proofread.

DILUC 🍷

PRODUCT NAME: BREAKFAST AND KISSES IN BED. Diluc always hated the Knights of Favonius…

He hated how most of them just stand around like buffoons and do not partake in any actual work that involves saving Mondstadt. He wouldn’t admit that he enjoys playing Batman. He hated them all except for one.

One he was willing to forgive all flaws of. "Knight of Favonius…always so inefficient,” He scoffed at the pathetic sight of the hilichurls trying to dry roast a few knights roped to a wooden stick for their dinner. “Seriously, You’re so right Master Diluc.” Diluc’s head turned so fast at the sound of a new voice. When did you get here? Were you always there and how did he not sense you around?

That’s simply how you always were. A hard worker amidst slackers – he always termed despite Jean trying to explain that others work hard too. Perhaps that’s what caught his attention, honestly, he would never know what did. “G’morning…” He murmured against your skin, head buried in the crook of your neck, your flushed bare back pressed against him. “5 more minutes…” he heard your soft and groggy voice evoking a chuckle from the usually passive man. “Have I ever told you…how beautiful you are?” Diluc muttered against your skin. You smiled and turned around, “You always do. I remember my Dark-Knight Hero crying at the altar.” You pressed a finger against his chest, while he scoffed at the memory. “Don’t remind me about that, Kaeya doesn’t let me live that down…” He sighed, his brother consistently brought up the matter of him crying whenever he was losing an argument. Foul play if you ask anyone. “So…breakfast downstairs or in the bed?” He planted a kiss on your cheek while you hummed out a response, “Bed, you didn’t exactly go easy on me the previous night.” You recalled the events of the passionate night the day before. The honeymoon phase never seemed to end. “I am so sorry–” He panicked,” You're not in pain are you? I promise I’ll be gentle– I knew I should’ve been more considerat–” You stopped him by pressing a kiss against his lips. He groaned at the feeling of your soft lips touching his hands tangling themselves in your hair.

“I’m kidding silly… you should stop taking things so seriously unless you want me to start searching for grey hairs amidst those red locks of yours.” You snickered out seeing him release a breath of relief.

If the Darknight Hero really does exist, he's probably just someone in disguise. When he gets up in the morning to brush his teeth, it's the real him. He was his real him in front of you. People may call him a loser for such vulnerability…he was a loser for you.

ALHAITHAM 🌱

PRODUCT NAME: READING BOOKS OUT LOUD. One would say married to someone like Alhaitham was nothing short of a nightmare. They weren't 100% right. Shrouded beneath the aloof and meticulous personality resided someone who was in complete denial towards being loved. He loves it.

Who was he kidding? Nobody in a million years thought someone could put up with his insufferable personality — said Kaveh, his unpaying tenant. That was until he ran into you during his time as the newly appointed Scribe. You were like a painter, splashing heaps of paint in his 90s black-and-white life. Was eating ice cream always this enjoyable or was it because it was with you? Was the gossip between co-workers always this interesting or was it because it included you?

Why was his heart having an entire Queen’s rock and roll concert talking to you? Was it cardiac arrest or– He almost shuddered at the thought of it being what they called love.

“You’ve got flour on your face, sweetheart.” His teal eyes blinked amusingly into yours, a faint smile curling up his lips. You must have saved a nation in your previous life to land this man as your husband. Beige shirt perfectly sculpting around his abs – contrary to him calling himself “feeble,” hair slightly tousled and slight sleepiness in his eyes. He might not act like it but he was a little child whose needs had to be tended to like the coffee mug in his hands which you made, like usual. You wouldn’t want a cranky Alhaitham now, would you? “Hmpf, not my fault, this cooking book is completely bogus!” You rubbed your cheeks with the back of your hand, wiping away any remaining flour. “This is so boring…if only someone could provide their poor wife with some entertainment.” You always resorted to theatrics to get him to do things for you, albeit begrudgingly. “No, the same tactic is not going to work again.” “Please…” “No…” He groaned, tone almost pleading not to put him through the torture again. “During better or worse!” You resorted to the ace up to your sleeve. WEDDING VOWS! “Stop quoting the wedding vows.” He sighed in defeat. The most intellectually gifted man in the nation couldn't win against his own wife. Ironical. He got up and grabbed a book out of the bookshelf; a small fraction of his much larger library.

“Miss Elizabeth,” Alhaitham lazily flipped through the pages earning a rebuke. “More emotion! You are ruining the scene.” Alhaitham sighed and cleared his throat, “I love you most ardently…” His tone was feathery soft, emotion surging in it. A smile crept up as he stared at you endearingly.

“That’s much better. Though I seriously think Mr Darcy should’ve said– Miss Elizabeth, allow me to kiseth thy lovely lips.” You mimicked the deep voice of the character with the failing British accent. “Please have mercy on Jane Austen’s ghost and let her enjoy the afterlife.” Alhaitham chuckled and continued reading as you continued baking. It was a shame that a man of such talent only paid attention to the truth itself and not to the people around him. If only the searching eyes of the ordinary say the exception to his indifference, you.

This was your biosphere, just you, him, novels and food encapsulated inside your small home.

ZHONGLI 🪨

PRODUCT NAME: ALWAYS ON HIS MIND. What is the best but the most useless flex you have? Being married to the Geo Archon. The inability to just tell the whole world that you are married to the frigging god was painful. You yourself were surprised by your ability to control yourself. Zhongli was a man of carefully curated words. Instead of words, straight-up poetry flew out of his mouth. Everyone knew how much he adored his wife, every vendor, every acquaintance, heck even Venti. Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's mysterious consultant. Handsome, elegant, and surpassingly learned. Excellent memory. A master of courtesy and rules. The amount of poor women who have tried to grab his attention. "Mr.Zhongli, how does this look?" the woman, who he remembered meeting over a history discussion 17 days ago. "Hm?" his amber eyes shifted to gaze at the hairpiece the lady was holding. "Most exquisite.." He remarked, seemingly going into deep thought. Instead of a compliment, he said something that made the woman back away, "Such beautiful craftsmanship...may I ask you to tell me where you found this? I wish to buy one for my wife–" he paused, seeing the lady vanished after pointing at the shop where she got it from. "Zhongli, you should be able to tell why people approach you..." Hutao sighed, standing beside the rather oblivious gentleman. "Let's just continue...we've got customers to find!" Hutao started walking alongside the railing, hoping to find people in need of funeral services. "Maybe we should go and ask peopl– Zhongli??" Hutao looked around for the Consultant, who was caught up chatting with a shopkeeper over some earrings. "Zhongli!" Hutao called out to him, causing his head to turn towards the director. "Oh, apologies...It seems I got too carried away. These earrings caught my eye...I'm sure [Name} would love them.." he mumbled, staring at the jewellery. "I'll take them." "Mister Zhongli? What about the payment..." The shopkeeper meekly asked, causing Zhongli to turn his head fully at Hutao; gazing expectantly. Hutao should've expected this... "Zhongli, we are out here to find customers! Not buying gifts for [Name], her birthday is months away!" "They say the best things should be done first. After all, why must I wait for one specific day to express my love for my beloved?" Zhongli asked curiously and Hutao shaked her head; love was clearly out of her expertise. Zhongli, he is particular about everything. He only attended the best operas and focused on the perfect ratio for the creation of an authentic dish. On a typical day, all you will glean from him is a few pieces of useless trivia, because he particularly enjoys sharing these fun tidbits with you. He was particular about you and your likings. A smile on your face was what he wanted by the end of the day. For being someone alive for 6000 years, he could proudly say that he loved and cherished something– someone.

"Wait here, Director Hu...Perhaps I should get those flowers over there to accompany the hairpin and earrings..."

WRIOTHESLEY 🐺

PRODUCT NAME: BATTLE TO BUY A DOG OR NOT.

"Wriothesley, I want a dog!" You crossed your arms, staring down at the Duke who was glued to the chair in his office. “But why? That’s just unnecessary responsibility…” Wriothesley sighed, rubbing his temples. This was the 3rd time this month you’ve brought up this topic. Was he that incompetent in terms of filling his role as your significant other? Perhaps not with the never-ending paperwork. Oh, how he wished people would just stop committing crimes. “I get lonely in the Fortress…I want a child.” You put forth your point by using the term ’ child’. Child, dog same thing. You hoped to finally convince him this time.

“We have Sigewinne.” Wriothesley pointed at the head nurse prepping tea in the room with the back of his pen. “I am sorry, Your Grace but playing the role of the child is out of my job description.” The Melusine replied indifferently, pouring freshly seeped tea into the three cups. “Fine, we will go get one…I’ll schedule a meeting with the owner of the pet shelter. Happy?” He asked you, chin resting on his palm. Perhaps getting a dog was a good idea as he was guilty of being unable to spend quality time with you… “No way…” “Isn’t that..?” “The Duke of the Meropide–” “He rarely appears in public..” Wriothesley held out the door to the shelter for you, hoping you would go in and it would finally save him from the gaze of curious onlookers. The two of you walked in, only to be pounced upon by a big dog. “Kal! You sly dog! I knew I shouldn’t have let you out!” The caretaker yelled at the big ball of black fur who had tackled Wriothesley to the floor and was aggressively licking his face, tail wagging in delight. “Are you okay?” You asked your fallen husband, who just chuckled in response. “I am good just– Okay stop! I understand your gesture of love.” Wriothesley got up as the dog encircled him. “This one is so adorable…” you gasped at the cuteness radiating from the dog and its big brown eyes. “You’ve got a keen eye! This is Kal, Shiloh Shepard, one of the finest dogs out there.” The caretaker combed her fingers through the thick and groomed black coat of the canine. “He seems to have taken a liking to the Duke.” The caretaker continued as the dog ran back to Wriothesley, peppering his face with licks. “He even looks like you.” You teased as Wriothesley stared at you in disbelief. You did not just compare him to a dog…he even did a double take at the dog to confirm. “We will take this one then…” He chuckled in amusement. Never had he imagined marrying you and on top of that getting a four-legged beast. Needless to say, Wriothesley proudly walked out of the shelter, holding the big dog in his hands like a child. It felt complete ever since getting Kal; like your own little family. Wriothesley wouldn’t admit it but he loved the dog, despite it hogging all of your love and attention. He didn’t expect to be fighting over cuddling rights with a dog!?

He watched you and Kal sleep peacefully on the couch, keeping him company while he finished up his work. He felt a sense of gratitude…people of the Fortress knew little of the crime he once committed. The only one who still remembers it like yesterday is Wriothesley himself. And no matter how much glory or repute he has earned, he still considers himself to be the same old Wriothesley he's always known.Neither a good person nor a complete villain. He's just another soul, still living on in this world. However, your eyes always reassured him in ways he couldn’t describe. Everything was perfect…

[Name]!! YOURDAMN DOG PISSED ON MY COAT!! Maybe not that perfect…whoops.

NEUVILLETTE 🌊

PRODUCT NAME: HELPING THE OTHER DRESS.

Monsieur Neuvillette, The Iudex of Fontaine, always wondered how his life had come to this. 500 years of serving his position as the Beacon of Justice, a lovely, beaming baker somehow broke the monotony. Well, calling you just a baker was now an insult. With your ring finger bejewelled, with one of the rarest gems– an ode to his undying loyalty and representation of his eternal love. “It’s astounding how a covert mission conducted by melusines could’ve landed someone such as myself a lady like her…” He muttered to himself, seeing his full form in the mirror. “Talking to yourself, again?” You leaned against the door frame, lopsidedly smiling at the peculiar antics of Fontaine’s most distinguished man. “Ah, apologies…I didn’t think you would notice me conversing with myself. Now I find myself in a rather awkward predicament.” He chuckled. Dear god, this man was so beautiful that his beauty was almost blinding with the morning sun perfectly hitting his face.

“Say ah,” You requested and he complied. Who better to take constructive criticism from other than your husband? “New filling?” He covered his mouth while chewing on the croissant. “Yup, how is it? I was experimenting with some Rainbow Roses and these Inazuman berries I bought.” You blinked curiously, waiting for some input. “Hmm it is very pleasant, it is fascinating how you manage to maintain the freshness of the fruit…” You smiled at his compliment, before noticing him struggling with the jabot around his neck. “Need help?” You offered and he nodded his head. “This is absurd..it usually isn’t this difficult.” He frustrated replied, it was amusing to see the cool and collected man all worked up about clothing. “I suggest simplifying your outfit.” You attached the jabot and secured it in with the teardrop brooch, fixing the ruffles.

“Thank you. I do prefer my outfit as it conveys the message I wish for it to convey.” He explained before staring at you. You knew that look, he looked at you with his eyebrows slightly creased when he was hesitating from saying something. “What is it?” “Do I get a goodbye kiss before I leave?” “Pfft! I didn’t think you would take that seriously!” Conclusion: this man was wayyy to cute.

Neuvillette is a solitary person. Neuvillette is not known for his personal desires.

He was deemed as someone with unassailable impartiality. If only they knew that perhaps the Iudex was just a wee bit biased.

a/n 2.0: the crust will come off...hopefully. i wonder if it's possible to guess which one of them is my favourite??

don't steal, copy, plagiarise, or translate.

©definitelysel

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unequivocallyreid · 2 months ago

Text

Why Didn’t You Tell Me?

it has been SO long... i was suffering from serious writers block but it think i'm finally out of it :)

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: Spencer Reid used to be your best friend, but things changed. How long can you pretend that you don't love him before it ruins you?

warnings: angst! (with a happy ending), smut (unprotected piv), character loss, mention of Maeve, very sad Spencer, mental health struggles, drinking/bar scene, light choking, fighting, slight praise kink

wc: 8.8k 🤗

i’m very proud of this one! i hope you love it!

Every morning when you wake up, you feel a familiar and creeping sort of dread in the pit of your stomach.

Don’t get the wrong idea; you love your job. You love helping people and stopping horrible people from ruining any more lives, but the creeping feeling and desire to get out is always in the corner of your mind. Anyone working in this field would tell you that. There’s no absolute separation between you and the victims and their families. You take all of them home with you, and you just have to learn how to deal with that and not let it eat at you.

It doesn’t help that it’s an isolating job as well. The last time you were in a serious relationship was in college. Now, every date you have ends in disappointment. Not only do you lack interest in most of the men and women, but it couldn’t go anywhere even if you did. 75% of your time is spent in the office, on a jet, or hundreds of miles away from your home.

All of this contributes to the feeling, but the worst part of your job is Dr. Spencer Reid.

He’s secretive and dismissive and just about the most attractive person you’d ever seen. You honestly don’t know what is worse: his constant physical presence in your life or the fact that you can’t stop thinking about him no matter what you do. You’ve tried to get over it; you’ve buried yourself in work, lamented to your friends, and gone out on dates (all with guys that looked vaguely similar), but nothing has worked. All his worst traits grate your nerves and light you up at the same time.

The worst part of it all is that it wasn’t always like this. When you first joined the BAU nearly two years ago, you and Spencer got along well. You were friends, he talked to you about his life, he understood you, and you really severely fell for him. He became your best friend.

Everything changed around six months ago. Spencer started to develop migraines, and as those developed, he started distancing himself from you. He became snippy and closed off, he started hiding things from you, and he stopped talking to you about life outside of Quantico. It was like overnight, you became nothing to him, and you really didn’t understand. Everyone else on the team got the same old Spencer, but you went from his right-hand man to someone he only spoke to when it was necessary.

Maybe he didn’t deserve to be vilified. You know, realistically, he can and should be able to decide who he wants to be close to, but working with a man who unknowingly broke your heart was close to the hardest thing you’d ever done. So, you decided hating him was easier. The real emotions you feel toward him sit somewhere inside you, but they have been covered by manufactured distaste. Addressing the actual feeling would hurt too bad, so you pretend to hate the things you used to love.

Nothing, however, could have prepared you for the last case you worked on: helping Spencer save a girl he met about six months ago, a girl he loved. You tried to stay collected, you said nothing when Spencer assisted when he shouldn’t have, and goddamn, did you do everything in your power to find that girl. Maeve. She was perfect for Spencer, and you saw that immediately. Everyone did. The sight of him sobbing in front of her body is one that will never leave your mind.

Now, two weeks later, no one has heard from Reid. The only indication that he hasn’t abandoned his life altogether is the absence of the gift baskets on his doorstep that Pen leaves daily.

Nearly everyone has been to his apartment, but they are met with a closed door and have yet to receive a response. Everyone but you.

Penelope is the first to bring up your lack of appearance at the end of a long day of paperwork.

“Y/n, please, you just have to try. No one is getting anything from him.”

“I really don’t think my presence would do any good,” you pause for a moment, trying to collect the thoughts running through your head like a freight train. “Me and him haven’t been close in a long time, Pen.”

Before you can continue, she cuts in, “Everyone has tried, Y/n. Hell, I’ve even considered tracking down Gideon, and I really, really do not want to do that.”

She pauses for a moment before looking up at you with a pout on her face, “Please, Y/n, for me. I can’t bear the thought of him in there all alone, just wasting away in grief.”

For someone who claims not to be a profiler, Penelope knew exactly what to say to get you to agree. She’s the only person in your life who you told about how you felt, though you’re sure everyone else (aside from Spencer) knew: you’re shit at keeping secrets.

“Okay, okay, I’ll try.”

She nearly bursts with excitement, “Thank God-“

You cut her off before she can finish, “But I’m telling you, I’m not the person he wants to hear from right now. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Yes, yes. I just want him to know we all want him to be okay.”

Before you can hurry out of the office to follow Pen’s instructions, she stops you and hands you a basket full of assorted snacks and fruits.

“Make sure he eats!”

The walk up to Spencer’s apartment is a hard one to take. The smell of his building hits you as soon as you step into the lobby. From there, everything rushes back at once. Memories of nights you spent watching reruns of Doctor Who or listening to him prattle off about whatever he last read assault you with every step. As you slowly make your way up, you start to question why you agreed to do this in the first place.

You feel a lot toward Reid. More than you should and less than you could. But all that care and feelings that are so close to love aren’t enough to make you forget why you’ve been trying to hate him for so long. He deserted you without an explanation and cut you off without a warning. You spent weeks (three months) crying over him like a love-struck teen. So, as much as you want to hold him and comfort him, you know it’ll hurt you to do so. Penelope sent you, with the whole team’s approval, you’re sure, to try to patch up a broken heart he got loving someone else. There’s a sickness in your gut, but it’s not enough to stop you from rapping your knuckles against his door.

“Spencer? It’s Y/n.”

There’s no response.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear from me right now, but I want to make sure you’re alright. Can you tell me you’re alright?”

Again, nothing.

You know he’s there. Despite your lack of communication, you know Spencer well enough to know that he would never leave his life behind entirely. That being said, your next few attempts at garnering a response are unsuccessful.

You decide to try one final time before just leaving the basket alone on his doorstep and texting Pen it was a bust.

“There’s a lot I don’t know about you now, and I won’t pretend to know what you’re feeling.”

You don’t exactly know where this is headed, but you continue on regardless.

“I know you’re in there, and I know you can hear me, and I know you’re hurting. You shouldn’t- I don’t want you to be alone right now, Spence. You can either unlock your door, or I can pick it, but I’m coming in one way or the other. You know I will.”

You wouldn’t, actually. It’s a last-ditch effort, and it’s met with the same silence you’ve heard on the other side for the past ten minutes. You’re about to turn to head back down the stairs when you hear the very faint sound of a deadbolt turning.

There’s no other sound or movement, and for a moment, you think you might’ve imagined the sound, but you try the handle anyway. It turns, and the door slides open. You take a step in.

“Spencer,” you call out to him.

You don’t see him at first in the mess of his apartment, but when you do, you feel a crack form in your heart.

Beyond the clutter of his entryway, you see his back on the couch. His frame looks smaller than you’ve ever seen it, and you can see his legs curled into his chest. You set down the gift basket by a collection of others on the entry table and walk over to him. Slowly, like you’re trying not to spook a lost dog, you creep in front of him.

His head is down, and his gaze stays trained on his knees.

You reach out your hand and lay it over his. He flinches but doesn’t pull away.

“Spence, I’m so glad you opened the door.”

You didn’t plan out what you would say, but ‘sorry’ feels redundant and useless.

You go on, “I’m here. I- I don’t know what to do or say, and I’m sorry that I don’t. I can get someone else for you. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

You wait for him to say he wants Penelope or JJ, but it doesn’t come. Nothing comes. You start to move to get up, figuring you could clean up a bit and try to make him something to eat, then go, but he grasps your arm before you can.

He looks up at you, and his eyes hit you right in the gut. They’re bloodshot and sunken but still beautiful.

“Stay. Please. I just- I need to know I’m not dreaming. I keep thinking I’m dreaming.”

His voice is croaky from disuse and breaks at the end, but it’s so heartbreakingly earnest that you feel your breath catch. You move from your crouch and sit beside him on the couch; your hand is still in his.

You stay like that for a long time. His breathing is shakey and uneven, and every so often, his body shakes with what you can only assume are sobs. You stay pressed to his side the whole time, thumb rubbing back and forth over his hand.

Eventually, you speak again, “I’m gonna get you some food, Spence. You should eat.”

He says nothing back, but he does loosen his grip. You push yourself up from the coach with a promise you’ll be as fast as possible.

His kitchen is nearly empty, and you hope he’s been eating from the baskets. Still, you find enough to make noodles and butter, and you figure the carbs should help his energy some.

You return with the bowl. Spencer hasn’t moved, but his head follows you as you walk back over to him.

“It’s not fine dining.”

He studied you for a second, and you catch a glimpse of the old him in his eye.

“You did the same thing when I was sick on a case a year ago.”

You smile at his recollection.

“It helped you then.”

The rest of the night is spent mostly in silence. Occasionally, you tell him something to try to remind him that you’re there and that you won’t leave as long as he wants you there. Eventually, you get up from the couch again.

“Spencer, it’s too late to still be awake.”

He nods and still says nothing, but he is far more receptive than before. You reach your hand out to him to help him up from the couch, and he takes it.

He leads you to his room at a slow pace. His head stays down as you both take a seat on his bed, hands still interlocked. Being in his bedroom is odd for you. You’ve been to his apartment quite a few times before he disappeared from your life, but you never breached this space. It’s all very him. Almost surprisingly cozy, with books scattered around nearly everywhere there’s space.

You take in the moment for a beat before saying, “I’m gonna head home, Spencer, but please call me if you need anything at all. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

This makes his head snap up, and his eyes lock with yours.

“Please stay.”

That’s all he says, but every part of him is pleading with you. It’s not a good idea, and you know it. You’re the only person he’s seen in days, you aren’t close anymore, and you don’t particularly want to sleep on a couch tonight.

“Spencer, I don’t want to sleep in your living room tonight. I’ll come back.”

He pauses for a moment, “You can stay here with me. I don’t want to be alone.”

Your heart cracks again. There was a time when this was all you wanted. It’s still, deep down, all you want, just not like this. You know he doesn’t really want you there and he’s not himself. But you aren’t strong enough to say no, so you don’t.

He gets you clothes to wear, and you change in his bathroom. You come out and find him in his bed, laying with his back to you. You have no fucking idea what you’re doing, but you get into bed next to him anyways. There are a thousand thoughts racing through your head, but the prevailing one is how badly you want to touch him, to hold him, to make him forget, just for the night. You stay still, though, confined to the edge of the bed and start to count to drown out the noise.

Though, you can’t drown out his voice, saying, “Can- Could you hold me? I think that everything feels better when you touch me.”

Another crack. By the end of this, you know Spencer Reid is going to break your heart all over again.

When you wake up the next morning, Spencer is still asleep. You sneak out of his room and call Hotch. When he answers, you tell him Spencer has let you in, and you ask for time off to try to help. You can tell from his voice that he doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but he grants you it anyway.

Much of your day is spent like the night before. You stay next to Spencer, and you cook for him after leaving to pick up clothes and groceries. Then, you get him to shower and wash his hair. He sleeps with his head in your lap, and you feel like a fucking idiot at first, but as long as it’s helping him in some way, you let it happen.

That’s the thing: you don’t really know how to help him. You know he isn’t the type to talk about something until he is entirely ready, so all you can do is add something domestic and bright to his life while he grieves. It’s all you can think about in the moments of silence. Hell, you even read to him to try and get your mind off of it, but it barely helps.

The night is the same. You change in different rooms and slip into his bed at different times. You feel dirty for imagining what it would be like if the circumstances were different: if he wanted you like you have wanted him for the past two years. You hold him against you, and you pray for sign that you should be there.

The sign comes the following morning when Derek calls you.

“Y/n…”

You can hear his teasing tone over the phone.

“Hi, Derek.”

“What are you doing, mamas?”

You sigh, “What do you mean?”

You’re playing coy. You know he’s wondering why you’re at Spencer’s house, picking up the pieces, but you won’t be the one to bring it up.

“Why’d you ask Hotch for the week off, Y/n?”

Another sigh, “You know why, Derek. I just, I want to help him.”

“I know you do, Y/n, I know.”

He pauses for a moment, and you let the moment fill with silence.

“I know you care about him. We all care about him. But who is taking care of you?”

“I am. I can take care of him, and I can take care of me.”

“I know you can, but I don’t want you to get hurt, Y/n. Don’t let this be something that hurts you.”

“It won’t. I- You have to- Fuck, I’ll be fine. He’s not fine. I don’t care about me or any feelings that may get hurt right now. I’ll be fine.”

There’s another bear of silence, “Okay, Y/n. Just know you’re allowed to tap out.”

You try to think of anything else to say, but nothing comes, so you say your goodbyes.

You won’t need to tap out. You can take care of him and be good to him and ignore the other feelings you have. You can be good.

The call does make you think it’s time to push, to try harder, to help him get better. So, you approach him that day before bed, before he tucks himself into your arms and falls into a fretful sleep.

“Spencer?”

He takes a moment and then responds, “Yes?”

“You have to talk about it. I think that you need to talk about it. It doesn’t have to be to me but to someone.”

He’s quiet for a long time, and your breath is caught in your throat, waiting for him to say anything.

“I- I don’t want to,” his voice cracks while he says it.

“Spence, you can’t come back if you don’t. You can’t move forward if you don’t.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

A ringing echos in your ears.

“You don’t mean that. She- she would want you to keep going.”

Wrong thing to say.

“You don’t know anything about what she would want.”

He’s seething now, below the surface, but smoke has started to plume from his ears. Still, you don’t stop.

“Spencer, everyone knows that. No one would want you to put your life on hold.”

He speaks his next line through his teeth, “You don’t know anything, Y/n.”

You’ve never heard him sound so angry.

“Spencer-“

“No, just stop. You don’t know her. You don’t know me half as well as you think you do. You don’t know anything. I don’t even know why you’re here. I don’t want you here. You can't be what I need.”

The ringing in your ears is louder.

“Spencer, please. Just-“

“No!” His voice is raised now, bordering on a yell, “I don’t want you here. I want you out, Y/n.”

This has to be what shell shock feels like. The ringing, the tingle in your limbs, and the heat in your face. You don’t know how you are moving, but you are.

His voice is echoing in your head, or maybe he’s still talking, but you can’t tell either way. The only thing you can focus on is how Spencer sounded like he hates you and that Morgan was right about the hurt.

You spend the next day trying desperately to shut down the noise in your head. It doesn’t work. The day after is the same. And the days following that. You ignore calls when they come, you ignore the texts, but you can’t stop looking at your phone for a message from the man who fills your thoughts.

Spencer doesn’t call, obviously, and you have to sit with a pit in your stomach while you beg yourself to just get the fuck over it. Two years of reckoning with the severity of your love, months of watching him live happily without you, and it’s the three days you spent trying to help him feel incrementally better that floor you.

You feel like a dumb teenage girl with so much love and nothing to do with it. On top of everything, you feel selfish. Spencer lost the love of his life forever, and you’re nursing the worst heartbreak of your life because a boy will never want you and never has. Still, you send out prayers for him over and over. You hope you’ll see him in the BAU again, even if his eyes glaze over you. Hell, even if they look at you with hate the way they did two days ago. You just want him to function. You want him to be good and eventually be happy. You try to go to bed with soothing thoughts, but you end up with a mantra of his name.

You wake to your alarm and dress for work before you realize you aren’t actually supposed to go back yet. You never set a date to return. You wanted to be open as long as Spencer needed you. You’re supposed to be with him. You’re supposed to be helping and not tapping out. But you aren’t.

You have no reason not to return to the bullpen, so you do. You walk in and feel eyes on you. You wait for Morgan to call out to you, but he doesn’t, so you follow the feeling.

Your breath catches in your throat; it’s Spencer. He’s sitting at his desk, paperwork spread out, and he doesn’t look away from your gaze; he just holds it. His face is unreadable, and yours is definitely not, so you look away first. You don’t look up again until you reach Hotch’s office. You knock and hear him call out to come in.

“I’m back if that’s okay.”

He looks up at you, and you want to cry. You know he can read you. He has always been the best at it.

“Are you okay with that, Y/l/n?”

You lock eyes with him, “Yes, sir.”

It’s no use; he knows your tells and you aren’t being honest.

“Alright, conference room in five.”

Whatever he sees in your face, he ignores and takes you at your word, but there’s a warning in his tone. He knows when to let things go and when to push. More than that, though, he knows you’d never let something like this affect your work.

The first case back is in Maryland, and the one after is in Austin, and the next is in Philadelphia with The Replicator. The job takes you all over the country, and the cases blend together. You don’t speak to Spencer through all of it. You’re never partnered, never work together, you sit on opposite ends of the jet. You don’t even speak at Strauss’ funeral. It’s radio silent, and everyone notices it, but no one brings it up.

In that time, you allow yourself to slip away slightly. You don’t go out with the team, you see Pen at nearly half frequency, and basically, the only time you speak is on cases. It’s stupid and melodramatic, but you call it healing. Derek tries to reason with you, JJ sticks to you a bit more than usual, and Penelope calls you virtually whenever she can, but their efforts are mostly in vain. This is your way of protecting yourself. You feel like you have to isolate in order to improve, and you know, given time, you will come back to yourself.

Penelope’s insistence that you go to her Day of the Dead celebration breaks your distance.

“Y/n, please come. I know you aren’t going out, but you have to. I know you have people to honor, and I need you there.”

You sigh, “Whose going, Pen?”

“The team, which you are a part of, so you must be there.”

“I don’t think I can do that. I promise you I will celebrate with you. I’ll help you set up, just please don’t make me go.”

Penelope pauses, but the glint in her eye keys you into the fact that she is not interested in giving up.

“We miss you, Y/n. Everyone loves you and misses you. You’ve been living this stupid, isolated life, and it’s time for you to come back. You are not this person. I refuse to believe it. You’re coming, and that’s final.”

Maybe you don’t have the energy to argue, or maybe you know she’s right, but you agree to go.

The thought of seeing him makes your heart race, and the clock you keep glancing at makes it worse. Just a few more hours before you're trapped in a confined space (Pen’s beautiful home) with a man you haven’t spoken to in weeks.

You busy yourself with preparing. Lights are hung, food is made, and you make a trip to the store while Pen sets up her remembrance table. When everything is said and done, you can’t help but feel this is the most beautiful thing you’ve been a part of in a long time.

The first knock comes at 7:30 exactly, and it’s Hotch and Rossi. They are followed closely by Blake, then Derek and JJ. By 7:00, the atmosphere is light and loving, and you feel a bit of your anxiety let up as the minutes go by without Reid. But, eventually, the knock comes, of course it does, and you move into a corner as Spencer walks in. You feel a shift in energy, though you doubt it’s palpable for anyone else. Rossi is the first to make his way over to you, and his presence comforts you nearly immediately.

“How you doing, kid?” His voice is soft like he’s speaking to a scared rabbit.

“I’m better,” you say, and it’s about as honest as you can get. As much as you’d like to think he knows nothing about what’s gone on, you’re smarter than that. He’s the best profiler on the team, and he’s always known when someone was off with you. Even so, you are better than you were, even if you aren’t quite good, and you know he believes you.

There’s some idle conversation between you before he asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not tonight. I don’t know when, but I will. Eventually, I will.”

It’s good enough for him, and you move on easily, which surprises you.

Right before Pen gathers you all to present your photos, he says, “Sometimes we think we’ve seen the whole picture, but we miss a big part. People do things because they don’t want to be hurt, but those things hurt them more. Just, be open.”

You don’t quite understand what he means, but you hope you will.

Penelope presents the first picture, which shows her parents. JJ honors her sister, Derek, his dad, Hotch Haley, and Rossi, Hernandez; then it’s your turn. You place down a photo of your best friend. You hadn’t talked much about her, but you think of her daily. She passed a few years before you joined the BAU.

“I was lucky to have someone that hurt that much to lose.”

That’s all you say, but it’s enough for you, and it would be enough for her.

Spencer is last. He places down a picture of Tesla and a picture of Maeve. Your heart is heavy for everyone.

The night dwindles from there. Hotch and Rossi say their goodbyes, and Rossi gives you a knowing look as he leaves. You just smile. You stay for a few minutes after, but eventually, you move to leave as well.

You make it down Garcia’s porch before you feel a hand grab your arm. You turn, and it’s Spencer’s face you see.

“Would you- Do you think you could come over? Do you think we could talk?”

The feeling you have walking up to Spencer's apartment is similar to what you felt the last time. You’re incredibly anxious, but at least you know you’ll be let in this time.

The drive over was silent. Spencer had taken the metro to Penelope’s, so he rode with you. It wasn’t necessarily awkward. There was just an understanding that the car wasn’t the place to begin your conversation.

Now, as Spencer unlocked his door, it’s one of those rare moments you felt starved for words, and you know it’s because you’re scared you’ll say the wrong thing and face the same reaction that you did the last time you were in his home.

He leads you to his living room and motions for you to sit, and you do. The two of you are on opposite ends of his couch while you wait for him to say something.

His first words are airy and light, “Thank you for letting me talk to you.”

You look at him but remain silent, waiting for him to go on. All you can think about is why he wants to speak to you at all. The last time you spoke, he made it incredibly clear he did not want you in his life or around him at all.

Before you can think about it more and let your anger and sadness build, he speaks again, “I feel really stupid right now. I kind of feel stupid whenever I’m around you recently.”

He pauses momentarily before going on, “I’m so, so sorry, Y/n. About the last time we spoke. I’ve been thinking about it pretty constantly for the past few weeks.”

You open your mouth, unsure of what exactly to say, but you can’t get there before he’s off again.

“I’m not sure how to talk to you anymore. I don’t think I’ve known how to for a long time. I just, I need you to know how sorry I am for speaking to you like that.”

He takes a shakey breath but keeps going, “That wasn’t me, and that isn’t how I feel. I’m just unbelievably sorry, Y/n.”

He stops there, and you work to collect your thoughts.

“I know. A part of me knows, at least, that you didn’t mean it. I just wanted to be there for you, and hearing that made me- I just- I think it made me hate myself for wanting to be there.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m unbelievably sorry.”

“You didn’t talk to me for months, Spencer. I just don’t understand. I don’t understand why you let me in in the first place. I thought you hated me.”

He’s silent for a long minute.

“I never hated you, Y/n. I just stopped knowing how to act around you, and then I met Maeve. I fell so deep into it that I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. I- And I just started to feel like you didn’t want me to speak to you, so I didn’t. But, when you came here, after everything, I guess I just felt like you were the only person who would get it. You never, no one on the team ever treated me or talked to me how you did. I just wanted that.”

Tears had begun to well in your eyes now. A part of you gets what he means, at least about letting you in, but the other part is so confused as to why he stopped being comfortable around you.

“I don’t understand, Spencer. Why did you stop knowing how to be around me?”

There’s desperation in your voice that makes you sound like a stranger to yourself. Maybe you’re a stranger to everyone right now.

“I uh, I don’t really know.”

“That's not fair, Spence.”

You’re crying now. Just a little bit, but you can feel the wetness on your cheeks. You can see that you are by the look on his face. He looks broken, and you know it's a reflection of your own image.

You wipe your face, “Thank you for apologizing, Spencer. I just, there are parts of this all that I don’t understand, and if you can't explain them to me, I don’t think I ever will.”

“Y/n-,” he calls out your name like a prayer.

“It’s okay, Spence. You don’t have to say anything more. We talked, and things will go back to how they were eventually.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

You smile sadly as you get up to leave.

“I am, too, for what it's worth. For whatever I did to make things change in the first place.”

You leave it at that, and it takes everything in you not to look back as you leave his apartment.

Things do get easier after that. Not completely. You still love him, and it hurts, but it helps to know he doesn’t hate you. He talks to you some, cordial things, and you do the same. You're sure your teammates still sense something is off, but this works for you. Right now, it works. Getting over him, not loving him anymore, is going to take work, but eventually, you know that you won’t hurt anymore.

Shortly after you and him talked, you started going back out with your friends. Spencer joined periodically, but that was normal. Bars were never really his scene.

Tonight, everyone gathers at your local pub. Your last case was particularly grueling, and you all need a way to blow off some steam. It's fun, and you feel good, even with Spencer sitting across from you. You feel proud of yourself for getting to this point.

JJ and Penelope feed you drinks to try and get you to dance, and you let them. Tonight feels as good of a night as any to ‘get back out there’ as Pen says. So, you do. You dance with them, and you ward off the other cops and agents around you who try to pull you away from your group. You aren’t interested in that. Right now, you're just having an appropriate amount of fun for a woman 15 feet from her boss.

Time goes by quickly, and by the time you get back to the table, you, Derek, Penelope, and JJ remain. He tells you that Hotch, Rossi, Reid, and Alex left a few minutes before. The conversation between you flows for a while, up until the drinks loosen Penelope up enough to bring up what you were pretty sure the team designated a no-no topic.

“Y/n, you have to talk about it.”

You’re still laughing as something Derek said when you reply, “What?”

“You know what. You and Boy-Genius. What on Earth happened? You went from ice-cold to semi-friendly. None of us saw it coming.”

“Babygirl-,” Derek tries to stop her, but you cut him off.

“No, it’s okay. I have to talk about it at some point, and I think right now is the only time I’ll be tipsy enough to let you get it out of me.”

You're still laughing slightly, but the pit that's lived in your stomach for the past few months starts to rear its head.

“After your Day of the Dead party, he asked to talk to me. I went to his place, and he apologized. I don’t really understand what he said or what he meant, but I can’t be sad about him forever.”

Pen perks up a bit at that, “I knew that party would bring good things!”

You giggle a bit at her outburst, but then JJ asks, “What did he say?”

The faces around you all tune in at that. You know they don’t see this as gossip. They care about you both too much to trivialize it like that.

“He just said that he stopped knowing how to act around me, and he didn’t know why, but then he met Maeve, and I guess it didn’t matter so much after that. He was my best friend, and then he was nothing.”

JJ shares a glance with Derek and then speaks, “Oh, Y/n.”

“What?”

After a beat, Derek says, “He didn’t just not know how to act around you.”

Now you're confused, “What do you mean? I talked to him, that's what he said. He didn’t know why. I mean, he knows everything and didn’t know why he didn’t want to be around me anymore. How fucking stupid is that.”

You laugh again, but it does come off as genuine in the slightest.

“Y/n, he probably doesn’t really know why. At least not fully. For someone as smart as he is, the kid can be really stupid.”

“Stop being cryptic.”

Derek sighs but goes on, “Pretty girl, pretty boy was in love with you. Probably still is. He just didn’t think you’d ever feel the same.”

“No. That's not true.”

You look at the others around you, but their faces are serious.

“He loved Maeve. He loves Maeve. That, that doesn’t make any sense.”

It's JJ’s turn to talk now.

“He definitely did love Maeve, no one is denying that, but we all saw how he was around you. His whole relationship with her was safe. He couldn’t be hurt by her rejection every day because he had no way of seeing her. With you, he could.”

Your mind is moving a mile a minute, “Did he tell you guys this?”

Penelope puts her hand over yours and says, “He didn’t have to, love. We all say the way he looked at you and acted around you. The way he talked about you. That boy was head over heels.”

“Guys, I appreciate whatever you’re trying to do, but this isn’t real. Spencer doesn’t- this is not real.”

“Y/n, pause. Think about the way he acted around you, the things he said. Think about how Reid is.”

You hear what Derek said, but it all sounds faint like someone stuffed your ears with cotton while you weren't paying attention. All you can focus on are the different scenes running through your head, the scenes of your life with Spencer in it. How he memorized your coffee order and brought it for you every day, how he never shied away from your touch despite his aversion to contact, how he consistently went out of his way to protect you on the field. At his house after everything, the way he clung to you and wanted to be held. How he said in his own words, “You can't be what I need”; not “you aren’t,” but “you can’t.”

Your whole world is crashing down in this bar, and you can’t do anything to stop it.

“Y/n?”

JJ’s voice snaps you out of your spiral.

“Just go talk to him.”

You nod mutely, and you get up.

Everything in the last ten months of your life has led you to the exact spot you were when everything blew up in the first place: Spencer’s door.

This time, you aren't too worried about him not letting you in. If anything, it's the opposite. Him opening this door could open a hundred others, and you don’t quite know if you are ready for any of them. You sit there and sit there and sit there, trying to work up the courage to knock, though you aren’t sure it's there to begin with. Right as you're about to walk away and decide you’ll come back another day, his door swings open.

“Y/n?”

His face is lit up with shock, and you notice his hand that is not on the door is holding his pistol.

“What are you doing here?”

You don’t answer, “Why did you open the door?”

He sets his piece down on the entry table before responding, “I heard footsteps in the hall and saw they stopped here. I was anxious. 50.3% of home invasions happen between 8:00 pm and 7:00 am.” He cuts himself off there, “Y/n, why are you here?”

You didn’t pay attention to anything he said. All you could think about was the way his lips were moving and the way his eyes locked onto yours as he talked.

“Do you love me?”

That is not what you wanted to say.

His lips fall open as he takes in a sharp breath, “What?”

“Or I guess did you love me? Before everything? Because Derek and JJ and Pen, they all said that you loved me, and now I can’t think about anything else, Spencer.”

He doesn’t speak, but you don't really give him a chance to.

“I just, I know I sound crazy right now, but I feel fucking crazy. I keep going over everything in my head, and I have been, for the past year I have been, but now it’s all different. It's all different because they said that you loved me, but you didn’t think I’d feel the same way.”

Here, you do pause, but he still doesn’t say anything, so you go on before you can stop yourself.

“Because if that's true, Spencer, it's just- I did. I do. And if it's not, then please just tell me so I can stop feeling this way.”

He sounds resigned when he says, “Y/n,” and you feel like you know what that means.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I'm doing this. You don’t have to say anything. Actually, please don’t say anything. I don't think I can hear it. Just pretend I never-”

He cuts off your ramble, “Y/n, stop.”

You draw your eyes from the floor, look up at him, and find something in his gaze you have never seen before. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you, and it takes everything you have not to look away. His hand raises to cup your jaw, and your skin lights on fire. Before you can process what he’s doing, you feel his lips press against yours, and something clicks. At first, his touch is light, like he’s giving you the chance to pull away. But, when he grasps that you won’t, he presses himself to you harder, and all you can think about is how nothing has ever felt so right.

His lips move against yours, and you don’t know how you're managing to reciprocate because it feels like everything in your body has gone fuzzy. The kiss is by no means long, but it feels like it lasts forever, and by the time he pulls away, you’re breathless.

His forehead stays connected to yours, and he whispers, “I do, Y/n, love you. I have.”

You don’t feel the tears on your cheeks until he’s wiping them away.

“Oh, Y/n.”

“Did you know? That you did? Is that why…”

You trail off, hoping he’ll pick up on what you're asking, and he does.

“I didn’t at first, or I didn’t realize I was falling in love with you until it happened. I got scared, so I ran. I just never thought that you could feel the same or that I was hurting you. I didn’t realize that. I just thought I was doing what was best for us. I felt guilty for being in love with my best friend.”

“And Maeve?”

“I loved Maeve. I’ll always have love for her. I was trying to move on, and I thought I could eventually be with her and be around you without it hurting. I wish I would have told you this before.”

“You’re telling me now. That's enough.”

This time, it's you who pushes your lips to meet his. Your arms snake around his neck, and his fall to your waist. You follow when he pulls you into his apartment and closes the door. There is still pain on both sides, but you can feel it dissipating as you cling to each other. You’re just two broken people who have finally found a way to each other.

This kiss is different, hungrier. Neither of you pulls away for longer than a few seconds as you navigate your way from his entryway to his couch. Every touch is desperate like you're searching for something you never knew existed until now. His hands pull you closer and closer until he's pulling you on top of him, and each of your legs rests on opposite sides of his hips.

Your lips break from his for a moment, “What do you want, Spence?”

His reply is instant, “You.”

From there, things move faster. Your hands unbutton his shirt and push it from his shoulders while he undoes your pants. There are moments of awkwardness that come with exploring another for the first time, but it feels good. His hands trace over your hips and push further until you're left on top of him in only your underwear and bra. He takes you in like you are something to be marveled at, and you know your eyes reflect the same adoration.

You raise yourself off of him and work to get him in the same state of undress as you, and when you position yourself on top of him, you feel his length press against your center. The two thin layers of fabric do little to hinder the intensity as you rock into him. He lets out quiet moans at the action as his lips trace down your neck and over your collarbone.

His breath ghosts over you and makes you shiver when he asks, “Can I touch you?”

“Please.”

His hand moves between the two of you, and his fingers find your clit easily, rubbing circles over the fabric of your panties. You pant his name against his lips at the action. You feel like your whole body is lit up, and under any other circumstance, you'd feel embarrassed at how worked up you are, but you can’t seem to care.

After a few moments, he lifts you up and carries you to his bedroom. From there, he positions you below him on the bed, removing your remaining clothes in the same motion. The new setup lets you grip him, and he feels big in your hand. His fingers resume their previous assault before dipping down into you. You cry out at the feeling of him inside you, slowly pushing in and out, finding a spot that makes your legs start to shake. He’s relentless in his pursuit and all you can muster up the energy to say is his name.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n.”

It's somewhere between a whimper and a whisper, but the sound of his voice causes you to clench around his fingers.

He picks up on this, of course he does, and quickens his pace as he coos at you.

“So pretty like this. I’m so lucky.”

You’re embarrassingly close already, so when he moves his thumb over your clit to rub circles as he fucks into you with his fingers, you come undone almost instantly with a warning and cry of his name. He works you through your orgasm, all while whispering praise in your ear. Once you come down from your high, you start to push his boxers down his legs, but he stops you before you can fully.

“We don’t have to do anything more, Y/n. I liked just making you feel good.”

“I want more. I want to feel you if you want that too.”

“Of course I do. I just don’t want you to regret anything.”

“I couldn’t regret this, Spencer. I love you. I want all of you.”

It's the first time you’ve actually said those three words to him, and it feels so fucking good to say.

“I love you, too. God, so much.”

With that, he positions himself back on top of you, running his fingers over your slit gently before gripping himself.

“Do you have a condom?”

“I might somewhere, but I have an IUD, and I’m clean. I can try to find one if you’re more comfortable with that?”

“IUDs have a failure rate of around .05% and are largely considered the most effective form of birth control, so uh, as long as you're okay with it, I am.”

You smile to yourself at his statistic but nod, “I want to feel you, Spencer.”

He returns your smile before rubbing his length over your entrance a few times and slowly pushing himself into you just slightly. He teases you, or maybe himself, for a moment before fully entering you. You push your hips up to meet his, and feeling him in his entirety makes your jaw fall open. He’s big, and you feel unbelievably full.

He waits a moment for you to adjust before he starts to develop a rhythm. His hands are everywhere, but his eyes are focused solely on your face like he doesn’t want to miss a moment of your reaction to him inside of you. To be fair, you are probably putting on a good show. Every movement he makes hits you in exactly the right spot, and you don’t think you could be louder if you tried. You can feel the leg he’s not holding up against his shoulder shake against the bed. Your first orgasm has made way for your second to be incredibly close.

“Spencer, please.”

You’re crying out, desperate for a little more to push you over the edge.

“What do you need, baby?” His voice is tight like he’s not far himself, and it sounds better than anything you’ve ever heard.

“Harder. Please, harder.”

He takes your direction immediately, rubbing circles on your clit with one hand while he thrusts into you with a bruising force. He’s fucking you like he wants you to remember the feeling long after he stops, and you know that you will. Everything about it is overwhelming: his smell, his pace, his eyes. You are covered in him, and he is covered in you.

After a moment, the hand he had on your stomach trails up to grasp lightly at your throat, and you fall into feeling. You can’t warn him that you're about to come before you do. The feeling is white hot. Bigger than your first, and the fact that you're coming on him sends you into overdrive. You can feel his hips falter for a moment, but you're lost in a daze, crying out his name.

He pumps into you a few more times before he follows suit. He pulls out, and you feel stripes of his come paint your cunt and lower stomach as he finishes with a moan of your name.

He falls next to you on the bed, and it takes you both a few moments to collect yourselves and catch your breath.

Once you do, the only thing you can think to say is, “I love you.”

It feels like those are the only words circling around in your head at the moment. Some mixture of his name and that declaration. While you know you each said it before, that your profession was the exigence of the sex you just had, it feels uniquely vulnerable to say now. It’s like the moment you just had together could have changed things or made him realize that he doesn’t actually love you after all.

That shoe doesn’t drop, though. Instead, you hear the three words echoed back to you by a man who, 6 hours ago, you thought would never, ever say them.

You turn to face him, and the love on his face feels like it could knock you out. He’s looking at you and smiling in a way you haven't seen in a long time.

“Will you let me clean you up?”

You know that part of the reason he’s asking has something to do with the likelihood of bacteria growth or something like that, but you think it's mainly that he wants to take care of you. Him wetting a rag and running it over you feels intimate in a different way, in an excruciatingly gentle way. Personal in a way that makes you feel like nothing between you could ever be wrong again, and maybe that's naive to think, but you feel hopeful regardless.

Once he finishes, he takes his space back next to you in the bed. This time, he pulls you into his arms, and it's different than it was all those months ago. This time, you know that he won’t push you away and that you won't hurt yourself by being next to him. This time, you just tuck yourself into him, and you let him whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you begin to drift off. This time, it feels like peace.

The following day, you wake up to Spencer still next to you, looking incredibly soft in the early morning light. You search for a moment to find your phone in the piles of clothes and are greeted with a text from Pen.

How did it go????

You smile before turning your phone off and climbing back into bed next to the man you love. It couldn’t have gone better.

all done! yay!!!

i hope you guys love it!! i’m not 100% happy with the ending but i’ve been writing this for so long and just needed to be done.

this is my first time writing angst on here and my longest fic, so PLEASE tell me what you think! all (nice) feedback is welcome and i love to hear from you guys!! :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #fic rec #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfiction #friends to lovers #friends to enemies to lovers #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic rec

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okaylikeschaewon · 3 months ago

Text

Thirsty

~7k words, Roommates series, Eunbi, smut

“Yo, far side of the bar, they’re still here.”

“I told you, tonight I’m chilling,” you replied, sipping your drink casually. “Take Mint with you.”

“Come on, there’s three of them and I know the one in the middle is your type.”

“Let it go, Jae,” Mint laughed, coming to your defense. “It was hard enough to convince him to come out tonight. There’ll be other girls.”

“Yeah, but I want that girl,” Jae complained. “And this handsome fucker knows the success rate of a three versus three is way higher than a two versus three.”

“I can’t lie, the friend in that little black dress is pretty fucking hot,” Mint added. “But you’d probably fumble this one anyway, you’ve been struggling tonight.”

“Man, I didn’t give a shit about that last girl, she wasn’t even my type,” Jae waved his hand in front of his face. “This girl, though? No chance of fumbling this one. I need to talk to her.”

“What, we’re not good enough for you anymore?” Mint picked up his own drink and took a sip. “You know, you’re allowed to go out and just chill with the boys from time to time.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” you agreed with your friend. “We rarely go out and don’t talk to girls.”

“Yeah it’s rare because your ass hates fun now,” Jae retaliated. “Gotta get you to a knitting club or some shit with all that ‘I refuse to find a girl in a club’ shit you’ve been spewing lately.”

“It’s true, I know I’m not finding the one in a club, especially not one like this,” you laughed while waving Yujin, one of the bartenders, over to get you another drink.

“He has a point,” Mint agreed. “It literally hasn’t worked out for any of us, and Jae you definitely have the most experience in that regard.”

“Also look, your three-man just turned into a two-man,” you commented while accepting your drink from Yujin and handing her a tip. “My girl just ditched them.”

“Perfect, come on MInty, let’s go,” Jae laughed. “You said you liked that little dress.”

“Great,” Mint sighed. “Let’s go add another failed two-man to the history books.”

The three of you laughed together before all of you picked up your drinks.

“Cheers boys,” you held your glass up, laughing as the three of you hit your glasses together. You took a hefty sip of your own while your friends finished theirs. “If the third girl comes back, I’ll step in. Good luck.”

“We don’t need luck where we’re going,” Jae puffed his chest out in confidence.

The two of them walked over to the girls while you watched, leaning against the bar. They actually seemed quite receptive, both of them were laughing at something Jae said. Within minutes, Mint had his arm around the girl he was interested in, and she could not stop staring at him. Jae’s girl was a bit more reserved, but she wouldn’t stop laughing at whatever he was saying.

“I feel like I should warn you,” Yujin leaned over towards you. “That girl your buddy is talking to is roommates with the girl he was talking to last weekend.”

“Oh shit, for real?” you burst out laughing. “Well, I guess he’s in for a surprise if it works out. What about the girl in the dress?”

“Never seen her before, but she seems incredibly sweet,” she answered. “What about you, couldn’t find a girl tonight?”

“What do you mean, I’m talking to one right now.”

“That doesn’t count, it’s my job to talk to customers.”

“Is it also your job to give your number to customers?” you smirked.

“You might as well delete it with how often you text me,” Yujin replied without missing a beat. “And if you say that any louder I will get security to carry you out of here.”

“Don’t worry, I was about to get going anyway. Could you close my tab?”

“Wow, calling it early tonight?” Yujin asked while tapping away at the screen.

“Yeah, I’m exhausted,” you answered. “Plus, it looks like those two are going to be pretty busy,” you motioned towards your friends. Jae had his tongue down his girl and Mint looked like he was absolutely in love with his.

“I guess you’ll have to get a drink with me another night,” Yujin held your card out for you.

“I still gotta finish this one,” you motioned towards your half emptied drink. “You could join me.”

“We agreed that when we eventually get a drink together I’d have to be on that side of the bar,” Yujin replied.

“You’re right, in that case,” you picked your drink up and downed it. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Have a good night,” Yujin leaned over the bar to give you a quick hug and kissed you on the cheek.

Before leaving, you quickly stopped by the bathroom. As soon as you walked in, a pair of girls left one of the stalls together, their clothes making the most feeble attempt at covering their bodies. The first girl was about to walk right past you, but she stopped when her friend paused.

“Why are you in the girl’s bathroom?” she asked you, clearly a little bit tipsy, or perhaps a lot tipsy.

“This is not the girl’s bathroom.”

“It’s not?” she gasped, eyes wide, looking around.

“No, it’s not,” you chuckled, carefully with two fingers adjusting her strap so that it was on her shoulder properly. “So, I guess I should be asking you, why are you in the men’s bathroom?”

“I was just letting my friend eat my ass,” the girl hiccuped.

“Wony, what the fuck,” her friend came back and grabbed her arm.

“Let go of me!” she squealed, yanking her arm away. “I found the love of my life.”

“Well, the love of your life needs to go piss,” you chuckled, turning to walk away from her.

The girl, Wony, stuck her arm out to stop you. Her friend looked so defeated, standing there and watching the events unfold.

“Let me hold it for you,” Wony mumbled as she fell forward.

“Whoa there,” you caught her in your arms, holding her up and stopping her from hitting her head against the wall. “How about we take a seat for a second.”

“I want to sit… on your cock…”

“Alright! That’s enough!” her friend came and grabbed Wony, dragging her away from you. “It’s time to leave.”

“Do you need help?” you asked her friend as she started dragging Wony away.

“It’s- fine-” she gasped as Wony broke free of her grip again and ran into you.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” she moaned as she latched onto you again. “Please eat my ass.”

If only this girl wasn’t borderline blacked out right now, because she was fucking gorgeous. It was a shame, but you weren’t going to even consider accepting her advances in this state, that wasn’t your cup of tea. You very carefully, while watching your hand placement, tried to get her off you, but it was futile - you decided just to carry her out of the bathroom while her friend watched.

“Here, sit down for a second,” you placed her gently onto one of the empty couches where her friend sat down next to her. “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t leave me,” she whined, reaching out for you with both hands.

“I’m coming right back,” you grabbed both of her hands in yours and shook them playfully. “I promise.”

You couldn’t deny it, the way she nodded was quite endearing. She was still incredibly pretty, but now she was also absurdly cute. Once you felt confident that the girl, Wony, wouldn't fall over, you walked over to the bar.

“She’s cute,” Yujin teased, handing you the glass of water she already knew you came to get.

“She’s drunk,” you shook your head before thanking Yujin and heading back to the girls. Once you arrived back at the table, you handed Wony’s friend the glass of water since Wony was barely conscious at this point and holding a glass would not be in her best interest.

“I appreciate the help,” the friend said, accepting the glass and placing it on the table before reaching her hand out to you. “My name’s Gaeul, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” you replied after giving her your name and shaking her hand. “And don’t worry about it, just make sure she drinks some water.”

“Also, what she said about me earlier, that was just a joke,” Gaeul added sheepishly.

“Even if it wasn’t, I’m not judging. That’s your business, not mine,” you replied casually. “Are you guys going to be alright getting home?”

“Yeah, we should be fine, some of our friends are by the bar, we came together,” Gaeul answered kindly. “Thank you again!”

“No problem, have a lovely night, and make sure she drinks that at some point,” you replied warmly before getting up.

Just as you were about to go back to the bathroom, a girl standing by the bar caught your attention. There were pretty girls everywhere, but this one stood out well above the rest. She was perfect - absolutely flawless. Everything from her posture to her expression, the way her outfit accentuated her beautifully fit body, showcasing her phenomenal rack, you just knew you had to talk to this one. You saw her separate from the group briefly as she was putting her empty drink back on the bar and decided that you needed to take the opportunity.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but you look like someone who I need to buy a drink,” you opened with as you leaned against the bar next to the girl.

“Oh do I?” she smirked, turning to face you properly.

It was incredibly difficult to keep your eyes up; She probably had the best tits you had seen in your entire life. Luckily for you, her face was also unbelievably pretty - this girl was unreal - so it wasn’t much of a punishment to keep eye contact with her. This girl really had it all.

“Yes, you absolutely do,” you waved Yujin over and held up two fingers, pointing to the glass the girl had placed on the bar and mouthing ‘please’.

Yujin nodded with a smile and began making the drinks.

“I appreciate the gesture,” the girl smiled while reaching into her purse. “But I think I’m the one who owes you the drink. I saw you taking care of Wonyoung over there.”

“Oh, you know her?”

“We go to school together,” she explained. “She’s actually my roommate.”

“You guys go to-” you began while gesturing towards the direction of your school when Eunbi interrupted you.

“Yup, we heard all the students love this club. It’s our first time here.”

“Wait, you’re not a freshman are you?”

“We’re both juniors, but neither of us lived in dorms before,” she laughed. “You?”

“Senior, been in dorms since the start,” you answered.

“I guess that means you come here often?”

“You could say that. Also, I didn’t help your roommate to get a free drink out of it,” you reached forward and blocked her from taking her card out of her purse. “How about you let me get these since I’m the one who offered, and you can thank me by telling me your name.”

The girl smiled at you, slumping her shoulders in defeat, accepting that you weren’t going to allow her to buy. She took the glass from your hand with a little nod of thanks while you began reaching for your card.

“Don’t worry about it, this one’s on the house,” Yujin winked at you before walking off.

“Would you look at that, now you don’t have to feel guilty,” you smiled, holding your glass up for her.

“So, I guess that confirms you’re a regular,” the girl chuckled while tapping her glass against yours and taking a sip with you. “My name is Eunbi.”

“Alright Eunbi, explain something to me,” you put your glass down.

“What’s up?”

“How is it that I’ve never seen you before?”

“Maybe you have.”

“Trust me, I wouldn’t forget it if I had,” you smiled at her.

“Well, it’s a big school,” she giggled, looking away for a second in embarrassment. “I was mostly a go-home-after-school type of girl.”

“Then I guess I should just be grateful that I ran into you tonight.”

“You definitely should, I’m not really one to go out like this.”

“Could have fooled me,” you looked her outfit up and down. “You definitely know how to dress the part.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” she smiled again, once again slightly embarrassed by the compliment. “Unfortunately, I think my friends are trying to leave.”

“I don’t see why that has to stop us from talking.”

“What are you implying, you want to stay here?”

“Here, somewhere else,” you answered. “Wherever I can talk to you some more.”

“Well, it is kinda loud here,” Eunbi looked around the club.

“My place is pretty quiet right now,” you commented while looking over at Mint who had his tongue down his girl’s throat now. “And it doesn’t look like my roommate is going to be bothering me tonight.”

“You’re going to invite me over after just meeting me?” Eunbi asked. “That’s a bit quick, no?”

“I’ve been enjoying your company so far and I’d love to get to know you better,” you replied with a smile before pulling out your phone and texting the group chat to let them know you were leaving. “But if you’re not comfortable with that, wanna at least put your number in my phone before we forget?”

“Depends, are you texting your girlfriend right now?”

“Girlfriend?”

“I don’t know, gut feeling,” Eunbi explained.

“Here,” you held your phone out to her. “I got nothing to hide, I was texting my friends to let them know I was leaving.”

Eunbi took one look at your phone and immediately bent over laughing.

“Condom broke, we awoke?”

“Blame my friend Jae for that one,” you smiled at her reaction.

“That has to be one of the best group chat names I’ve ever seen,” Eunbi giggled before looking at your phone again. “Alright, you can have my-” she stopped speaking abruptly and her cheeks turned bright pink. “Prettiest girl you’ve ever seen?” she mumbled, looking up from the phone.

“What, I tell my boys how it is,” you replied casually. “I never lie to them.”

Eunbi gave you back your phone and turned around to run over to her group of friends who were still standing there watching her from a few feet away. She began telling them something that earned you some peeks from a few of them. Wonyoung was asleep on Gaeul’s shoulder at this point, the latter flashed a smile at you while Eunbi talked. After about a minute or so, she quickly scurried back towards you.

“You’re not going to murder me, right?”

“Probably not,” you answered.

“Good enough for me,” Eunbi giggled. “Alright, I accept your offer.”

“Are you sure your friends are cool with this?” you asked, staring at Eunbi’s gorgeous eyes while in your periphery you could see her friends all staring at you. “I feel like I’m the one who should be worried about getting murdered.”

“You’ll be fine if you kiss me.”

“If I kiss you?”

“Yeah, they’ll probably trust you then,” Eunbi stared back into your eyes - she was serious.

“Only one way to find out,” you replied, slowly leaning forward.

The skill of Eunbi’s lips was not something you were prepared for. You closed your eyes, cupping her face in your hands, relishing in the sweet taste of her strawberry lip gloss, enjoying the enthralling nature of her soft lips. You couldn’t even hear the music anymore, in your mind the only thing left in this world was the girl you were making out with. As you felt her hand on the back of your neck, you moved one of your hands to her back, holding her warmly.

Once the kiss finally ended and you two separated, Eunbi held her face in front of yours, staring deeply into your eyes. She was adorable, absolutely the prettiest girl you had seen in your entire life. Her round eyes, expressionless face, the way she held herself right in front of you.

“Did it work,” she asked, never breaking eye contact.

“I don’t know.”

“Are you going to check?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t stop looking at you.”

She kept staring back, but now she was smiling and her cheeks were turning pink again.

“Whatever, it was just an excuse to kiss you anyway.”

“You don’t need an excuse to do that.”

“Do you ever stop flirting?” she asked.

“How about we start walking and you can find out for yourself,” you suggested, holding your hand out for her to take.

“We gotta finish our drinks first though,” Eunbi picked your glass back up and placed it in your outstretched hand.

“Let's do it properly then.” you suggested, holding your arm up slightly.

Eunbi wrapped her arm around yours, interlocking your arms at the elbows. She smiled brightly at you before bringing her drink up to her mouth. The two of you started drinking together. You finished your drink a few seconds before her and watched as she scrunched up her face trying to catch up. With your arm locked with hers still, all you could do was watch patiently as the adorable girl chugged her drink until she successfully finished it.

“Definitely not your first time,” you chuckled, taking her glass from her.

After placing her glass on the bar you grabbed a couple of napkins which you held out for her so that she could wipe her lips. She, however, had a different idea, and instead of accepting the napkins stuck her face out and pouted her lips at you. You smiled again, using the napkins to wipe her lips for her - this earned an eruption of little screams and squeals from her friends which you ignored. Eunbi grabbed your hand with a smile and pulled you out of the club without looking back at her friends a single time.

“Finally, I can hear my own thoughts,” you sighed as the brisk night air hit your skin.

“And what are those thoughts telling you?” Eunbi asked while letting go of your hand and spinning in a circle playfully.

“The same thing my eyes are,” you responded while looking over at Eunbi. “That you look even more stunning under the moonlight than I could have ever imagined.”

“I guess that answers my question,” Eunbi laughed, stumbling slightly before balancing herself.

“You’re not also drunk, are you?”

“Oh please, I can handle my liquor way better than Wonyoung,” Eunbi giggled, swaying slightly as she stood there with her hands on her hips. “I’m barely tipsy.”

“How many did you drink tonight?” you asked while walking up next to her and grabbing her hands.

“We were taking shots earlier…” she squinted her eyes as she was trying to remember. “Three? Four? I don’t know.”

“Plus at least two drinks.”

“That’s your fault,” she whined, pouting again. “I was fine until that last one.”

“It was your idea to chug it.”

“Oh yeah,” she giggled before latching onto your arm. “I’ll be honest, I think I’m feeling that last one hit me…”

“Have you been drinking water? Want me to get you some?”

“No it’s fine, I’ll drink some at your place. You have water right?”

“Of course I have water,” you chuckled.

“Then let’s go!” Eunbi giggled again, hopping cutely. “I’m getting cold.”

“We could grab a cab if you wanted,” you suggested as you started walking.

“It’s like a five minute walk to dorms, we’re not getting a cab,” Eunbi dismissed the idea, shivering slightly as she held onto your arm.

“Here,” you lifted your arm up and pulled her closer to your body, wrapping your arm around her shoulder. “Sorry I don’t have a jacket tonight, no drama-esque scene for us.”

“It’s alright,” Eunbi smiled as she held onto your body. “This’ll do. You smell really nice, by the way.”

“Just give me a warning if you’re about to throw up, I like this shirt.”

“Real funny,” Eunbi rolled her eyes at you. “I told you, I’m just tipsy.”

“So what’s the occasion tonight that led to you getting ‘just tipsy’, Friday night?”

“Wony passed some stupid quiz or something and wanted to go out,” Eunbi answered, the little girl shivering slightly. “Friday night is not enough to get me to go out, I told you I don’t do this often.”

“Celebrating a quiz? Wow, you guys sure are good friends.”

“I kinda owed her for something, otherwise I meant it when I said I really don’t go out like this very often.”

“With how quick you were to take any excuse to get out of there, I almost believe you,” you chuckled, giving her just a little bit of a squeeze to let her know you weren’t being serious. “Or maybe you just didn’t want to deal with your drunk roommate.”

“She’s a bit of a brat at times,” Eunbi giggled. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my roommate.”

“I wasn’t questioning it.”

“Good, with how much we do for her, you better not question it.”

“How much you do?”

“Look,” Eunbi giggled. “That girl is as bi as they come, I never know if she’s going to bring a guy or a girl back to the dorm. Thank God we have separate bedrooms.”

“Ah, so that’s what you meant by you owed her.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Hey look, it’s fine if you’re in a relationship with your roommate,” you teased.

“Me? No,” Eunbi laughed. “Our friend Gaeul on the other hand, she’s been coming over almost every night lately.”

“Oh yeah?” you replied, hoping she would elaborate.

“Wonyoung is fucking shameless, I swear,” Eunbi giggled while shaking her head. “She had Gaeul… this might be tmi…”

“No such thing as tmi in my eyes.”

“Look, we’re touchy and all that, I even kissed her tonight as a dare,” Eunbi continued. “But Gaeul… Wonyoung has her do everything to her.”

“Should I even ask?”

“All I’m saying is that the mess they left in the room tonight before we came out is part of the reason why I’d rather go back to your place,” Eunbi giggled.

“I hope you’re not expecting my place to be pristine, I wasn’t expecting company tonight.”

“As long as there aren’t plugs and beads all over the room, it’ll be better than ours.”

“Who said there wouldn’t be?”

“I… guess I didn’t account for that,” Eunbi giggled again. “Which floor are you on?” she asked as your building came into view.

“Third.”

“Oh! Same as us!”

“Wait, you’re also in this building?”

“Yeah,” Eunbi answered enthusiastically. “In the girl’s wing, of course.”

“Thanks for confirming, I was totally questioning that part,” you replied while scanning your ID to open the door. “Now I’m even more upset that I haven’t run into you before.”

“Well, now you know I’m only one hallway away from you, no more excuses,” Eunbi walked through the door you held for her.

After a short elevator ride and walk, you found yourself at your door. You opened it up, holding it for Eunbi to enter before following her into the room.

“Oh wow, this is my first time in a guys’ room,” Eunbi commented while looking around. “It looks just like ours.”

“Were you expecting something different?” you chuckled while walking past Eunbi towards the kitchen. “Here, drink this,” you poured her a glass of water which she accepted graciously.

“Thanks, that walk honestly sobered me up quite a bit.”

“Good, unless you wanted to stay tipsy,” you replied. “All we have right now is some shitty rum or some shitty vodka.”

“I’m alright, thank you though,” Eunbi smiled before putting the empty water glass down. “Can I see your room?”

“Yeah, of course,” you walked over to your bedroom door and entered your room. “Wanna sit?”

“Sure.”

“Go ahead,” you motioned towards your bed. “Mind giving me a second, I still really need to run to the bathroom.”

“No worries,” Eunbi smiled at you before looking around your room, admiring the various vanity items.

In the bathroom, you took a quick piss and then quickly reapplied some cologne. You checked your hair in the mirror, made sure everything looked good before heading to the kitchen where you grabbed yourself a glass of water, chugging it before heading back to your room.

“Did you want anything by the way, a drink-” you froze when you entered the room and saw Eunbi had taken off her top, leaving her in just a blue bra. “Oh.”

“Come sit,” Eunbi patted the bed next to her where you walked over and sat down. “You deserve some credit.”

“What for?” you asked, sitting down on the bed next to Eunbi, your eyes no longer able to avoid her tits.

“Not once have I caught you looking at my chest tonight,” Eunbi giggled. “Come on, I’m not stupid.”

“I gotta admit, you haven’t been paying enough attention,” you chuckled. “They’re too fucking beautiful, I couldn’t help myself.”

“At least you’re honest,” Eunbi smiled, leaning closer towards you. “You know, you’re allowed to touch them.”

“Quick to the point, are we?”

“I can put my top back on if you want,” Eunbi commented with an expression of fake concern.

“That won’t be necessary.”

The way her gorgeous smile began shining as soon as you grabbed her tits in your hands couldn’t be compared to anything. Nothing was hotter than a girl with self-confidence, and Eunbi absolutely knew what she was packing. Her tits were so fucking perfect, and they felt as amazing as they looked. So soft, molding into your fingers and you squeezed and squished them in every direction.

“Kiss me again and I’ll take the bra off, too,” she whispered, replacing her smile with the most seductive gaze humanly possible and opening her mouth slightly.

There wasn’t even a second of hesitation before you pressed forward with your mouth. You kept one hand squeezing her tits while the other lowered down towards her hip. Once again that delightful taste of strawberry blessed your mouth as Eunbi wrapped her arms around you, feeling up and down your toned back.

She was so fucking irresistable, you couldn’t detach from her body. You had to keep kissing her, you had to keep feeling her, you had to have her. She was too beautiful for this world - for all you knew, this was just a dream. Who fucking cared, you’d never wake up from this if it was, and that would be alright.

Without even stopping the kiss, Eunbi began reaching behind her back to unstrap her bra. You quickly reached around her body to help her, unstrapping it immediately and tossing it to the side. It didn’t even matter that her tits were completely out now, you didn’t want to stop kissing her yet to take a proper look. Slowly, you pushed forward until Eunbi was laying on her back, both of her hands now cupping your face while both of your hands were groping her chest.

This continued for a few more minutes, both of you were addicted to the other. Eunbi now had her leg bent and wrapped around your hips, you had one hand on the back of her thigh holding it up. Your other hand was still pressing into her soft tits, rubbing her nipples from time to time. Your hand slid up the back of her thigh, and for a bit you ended up palming her soft ass.

“You’re so fucking good at this,” Eunbi moaned from beneath you. “And you’re really fucking hot.”

“Right back at ya,” you smirked before shoving your mouth into her neck, kissing her clavicle.

“I don’t usually do it on the first night,” Eunbi moaned, grabbing your hair and pushing your head lower so that you were squished between her tits.

“That’s fine,” you gasped for air before taking her nipple into your mouth, sucking the nub until it was covered in your saliva. “No pressure.”

“I can make an exception tonight.”

“Should I grab a condom?” you asked excitedly before moving your mouth to her other tit and showing it the same love.

“No need, I’m on the pill,” Eunbi let go of your head and started pulling her skirt down.

“Leave it,” you insisted, sliding down your bed and reaching your hands up her skirt. “May I?”

She nodded with a giggle, loving your little act of chivalry, bending both of her legs so that her knees were up and bringing her hands to her tits, playing with them aggressively. As soon as her panties came off, you shoved your face between her legs. Just like that, within minutes of getting her in your room, you had your face in front of this dime piece of a girl’s pussy. A sharp inhale filled the room as you planted a kiss on her pussy - pure ecstasy to your ears.

Instead of sucking on her beautifully shaved pussy, you decided to slow it down, tease her a bit. You pressed your lips against her soft inner thigh, holding against her skin for a few seconds before kissing. Then, the same on the other leg, alternating with each kiss, moving closer and closer to her pussy. Once you couldn’t get any closer without actually placing your mouth on her folds, you started licking circles around her.

“Stop fucking teasing me,” Eunbi whined, squirming her lower body incessantly.

The corners of your lips curled upwards. You were going to have her begging soon, but you also needed a proper taste of Eunbi’s sweet pussy. With all the enthusiasm in the world, you gave her a singular lick from the bottom of her pussy all the way up to her clit where you sealed her clit with your lips. With the slight tang of her pussy now on your taste buds, you started jabbing your tongue against her clit.

“Oh yeah,” she began moaning before her moans swapped to screams as you shoved, without warning, two fingers up her pussy. “Oh fuck!”

Her entire lower body lifted off the bed briefly as you pushed two knuckles deep into her pussy, but the real surprise came when you felt her pussy squirt right onto your chin. You sat up on your knees, pulling your dripping fingers out of her snatch.

“Sorry,” Eunbi gasped, her chest heaving. “I should have… warned you…”

“Don’t apologize,” you wiped your chin with the back of your hand before ripping your shirt off and tossing it to the side. “That was really fucking hot.”

Eunbi didn’t have any time to feel embarrassed because as soon as your shirt came off you had shoved two fingers up her vagina again, this time thrusting them back and forth aggressively while your other hand started rubbing circles against her clit. It was sensory overload, you could tell by the way her face scrunched up in raw, unfiltered pleasure, and also by the droplets that began flinging out of her.

“Come on,” you grunted, speeding up your thrusting even more.

Suddenly, you got what you were looking for. Eunbi began gushing, spraying all over your arm, your chest, and your bed. She still had her eyes closed, but as her body once again lifted off the bed, she kept squirting all over anything that dared exist in front of her pussy. Once she stopped, you pulled your fingers out, and that led to a gush of liquid spilling out of her. Without missing a beat, you shoved your face between her legs and began lapping up her mess.

“Oh my fucking God,” Eunbi sobbed, her pussy literally trembling against your tongue. “Please.”

It was so fucking addicting. You couldn’t stop, you needed to suck every drop out of her pussy. You wanted to drown in her, your brain wasn’t working anymore. Eunbi’s wet pussy was your salvation. There was no way to know it now, but you’d be thinking about sucking Eunbi’s pussy for the next week.

“Stop,” she cried out, grabbing your hair with her hands. “I can’t…”

With her hands threatening to pull your hair out, you finally obeyed her wishes and held your face still. Other than the occasional lick of your tongue, you simply enjoyed the pulsatile squirts coming out of Eunbi’s pussy directly onto your chin. Once she finally stopped, her squirts being reduced to the occasional dribbles of fluid, you pulled back and sat up on your knees.

“You’re really fucking hot,” you said nonchalantly, wiping your chin again with the back of your hand.

“Come here,” she moaned, reaching her arms out for you.

As soon as you moved forward, she began kissing you again. Her hands found your buckle, undoing it swiftly and unbuttoning your pants. She fumbled around your crotch some more until her hand made it down your underwear, pulling your cock out.

“Want me to suck it first,” she whispered into your mouth between kisses, stroking your cock gently.

“Fuck that,” you spread her legs wide for you to get closer.

“Hold up,” Eunbi got up and turned you around so that now you were laying on your back with her on top of you. “Let me.”

Eunbi, her body right above yours, began rubbing her pussy with her palm before grabbing your cock and spreading her fluids along your shaft. She held your cock with one hand, lining it up with her pussy, and slowly started to lower herself onto your cock. You grabbed her skirt, lifting it up just in time to see her drenched pussy lips spread to accept your cock. She lowered herself lower and lower, pausing once she was all the way down, scrunching her face in delectation as her pussy adjusted to your size.

The girl knew how to move her hips, clearly showing off as she started moving up and down your shaft slowly. Her soaked pussy moved effortlessly as she started bouncing up and down your cock. Your hands found their way to her ass, gripping it tightly while she did all the work, working your cock like an expert.

“You’re so fucking hot,” you grunted, starting to push your hips into hers.

Eunbi started leaning forward, her massive tits hanging in front of you, shaking and jiggling each time she bounced on your cock. They were beautiful, shining as her efforts began leaving a thin layer of sweat all over her soft skin. She was beautiful. The way her face scrunched up as she felt each inch of your cock, she was irresistible. How could a girl be this perfect?

It was overwhelming. You didn’t have it in you to lay there, you knew you had to properly fuck this girl soon or else she was going to make you erupt with how good she was at moving her hips. Your hands left her ass and slid up her back, pulling her tits closer to your face until your nose was pressed between them. With your arms hugging her tightly, you stopped holding back.

“Oh fuck yes!” Eunbi screamed at the top of her lungs as soon as you started slamming your hips towards the roof. “Uh!”

It was such a blessing knowing most of your hallway would be out tonight, sparing you from dealing with the repercussions of a noise complaint, because Eunbi was loud. Equally as loud as her screams was the sound of your body slapping against her sweat-coated skin. At this point you had no idea if it was her sweat coating your legs or the absurd amount of fluid this goddess of a woman had squirted on you tonight.

Everything became a blur of wetness, tits, and Eunbi’s screams. The profanities Eunbi were shouting into your room would surely get you expelled if your school could hear them. If it wasn’t a moan or a cry, it was a mixture of the most lust-driven mumbles of salaciousness. Even with how loud Eunbi’s voice was, she could barely be heard over the wet slapping of her pussy getting fucked.

As much as you wanted to switch up the position, you couldn’t. You physically could not detach your face from Eunbi’s tits - it was not possible. Not that it really mattered, Eunbi was making it very clear that she was enjoying this. In fact, she could not have made it any more clear than she already was, especially with how her body had started squirting all over your cock now. The only disappointment was that as you felt Eunbi’s wetness coating your crotch, you knew you were quickly approaching your limit.

“I’m close,” you huffed into Eunbi’s tits.

There was no way to be sure if Eunbi heard you, not until at least she started bouncing her hips up and down with every bit of enthusiasm in her little frame. She didn’t just want you to cum in her, she wanted to make you cum in her - It was out of your control now. There was no stopping it now, you felt the pressure, the sensation, the pleasure all building up in your cock.

With your hands now squeezing onto Eunbi’s ass for dear life, your face pressed as far into her tits as it could go, you held on for dear life as your cock blew its load into her pussy. She kept moaning, kept moving her hips, despite it being impossible for her to know you were adding to the mess of fluids in her pussy. The only indication would have been the strained moan you let escape your lips as your cock pumped again and again, emptying itself into her.

With one final pump, your entire body went limp. Your hands fell to your sides, and all you could do now was breathe deeply against the softness of Eunbi’s tits. She lay on top of you for a bit longer in silence, moving her hips just enough to feel your cock still inside her as it also began to relax.

“Holy fuck Eunbi,” you broke the silence, trying and failing to sit up.

She didn’t even reply, she simply giggled as she lifted herself up. Slowly, she moved up and let your cock fall over, completely coated in a mess of cum and all of Eunbi’s bodily fluids. Eunbi reached past your body, once again giving you a beautiful view of her massive tits hanging down towards your face, and grabbed a few tissues. She wiped between her legs, not that it mattered with how much of a mess everything was now, before standing up, leaving you on your bed gasping for air.

“Do you mind if I borrow a shirt?”

“Yeah go ahead,” you panted, your chest heaving up and down with your eyes closed.

“Can I take this one?” Eunbi asked.

She looked so embarrassed when you opened your eyes to see her holding the shirt you were wearing earlier.

“Sure,” you shrugged, sitting up in your bed, finally catching your breath. “Bring it back whenever, you know where I live.”

“I promise I will,” Eunbi smiled, slipping the shirt on. It was too big for her, and she looked adorable in it. She quickly checked her phone before giving you a disappointed look “I’m really sorry to rush off like this. I would have loved to spend more time, but I need to check up on Wony.”

“Don’t worry about it at all, go take care of your roommate. I’ll see you soon?”

“Abso’ fucking ‘lutely you will, especially after that.”

---

A/N:

Um, Eunbi is really hot. I just HAD to write her at some point. Initially I planned to make this like a 15-20k word fic, but after talking to some other writers I decided to break it up for the sake of readability (yes, that means I have already planned out the plot for the next two parts, and yes I have already started working on them). I could have written it all out and edited it properly, but that dopamine rush of posting a fic is too strong.

Hopefully you guys enjoy, this is a little different from my typical style in the sense that it's an alternate universe fic! I just had this idea and felt like writing it out, I might end up doing more of these style of fics if I get some more ideas that I feel like writing, especially for idols/groups who I don't follow as closely. Let me know what you guys think, as always, appreciate the support!

#kpop smut #smut #kpop fanfic #male reader #fanfiction #eunbi smut

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