#but in moving it i had to rewrite some things

[bqstqnbruin]

Just Friends - Part 1

Hello friends here we are with a new/old fic. like I said with the prologue, this is a rewrite of a fic I started back in 2021 so here we go

General Warnings for all parts: Swearing, drinking, sex, parental death, panic attacks

WC: 4147

Read the prologue here

____________________________________________

The last thing Emeline wanted to find when she got home from work that day was Francesca and Maddy in their apartment with the music so loud she could feel the vibrations through the door. If their neighbors hadn’t complained yet, as someone did just about every single time the two of them were home with Emeline with them, there was no doubt they were going to. The fact that they hadn’t gotten kicked out of the building was baffling, if Emeline had to admit it.

“There’s no way you can hear anything,” Emeline yells over the music, dropping her bag on the floor and kicking off her shoes.

“What?” Fran yells back, she and Maddy showing no care to the fact that Emeline was unusually late getting home and dancing to Maddy’s ‘feral pop punk garage rats’ playlist that Emeline didn’t need to hear right now.

Emeline reaches over to their speaker and turns the music down a little, ignoring Maddy and Fran’s protests. “Why is it so loud?”

“Music is meant to be heard,” Maddy protests. 

“Yeah, heard, not blowing out your ear drums.” 

“Aw, did someone have a hard day at school?” Fran teases, giving her roommate a playful shove on the shoulder.

“Notice what time it is?” Emeline gestures to the clock she had hung over the TV when they first moved in, 8:15 flashing on it when she normally got home around 5:30 every day.

The three of them sit down in their living room, Maddy on the floor, Fran in the chair she had claimed as hers for the last two years, and Emeline cross-legged on the couch, the music just loud enough that Emeline could still feel the vibrations the sound waves were sending through the apartment, not helping the growing dehydration headache she had.

Emeline recounts her day, from the lab that she had set up the night before for her honors students somehow dismantled and parts of it thrown out, knowing that the janitorial staff had a habit of mistaking some of her lab equipment as garbage at times, which meant she had to scramble to reset it before her AP students showed up to review for the test they had that day. The two free periods she was banking on using to take down the honors lab and set up the college-prep lab she wanted to do last period were both taken away because everyone in her department was getting sick, so she had to go cover other classes and use that time to plan out a new lesson for them for last period. Then, since she can’t say no to her students and they found out she played lacrosse in college, she then had to go to practice despite the fact that their season was in the spring, and it was fall. Once that was over, she finally had time to set up the lab, forgetting that she also still needed to prep for the next school day. 

“So what you’re saying is, we’re ordering pizza, drinking wine, and definitely getting drunk this weekend,” Maddy says, already tapping away on her phone their usual pizza orders.

“Have fun with that. Keelan is coming over tonight, too.” Her roommates groan at the mention of her boyfriend's name. “We haven’t seen each other in two weeks since that weird conversation about the guy in the elevator. Order his pizza, too.” 

“I knew I was happier these last two weeks,” Fran snides. Maddy and Fran had a strong dislike for Keelan since the four of them met during their freshman year of college. No matter how often they were together, no matter what he did for the girls, they never warmed up to him. 

“Knock it off,” Emeline tells them, getting drowned out by Maddy turning the music back up, louder than it was when Emeline first walked into the apartment. Emeline groans, lying down on the cushions and putting one of the pillows over her face. She really wanted to just go to her room and rot in her bed by herself after the day she had. If Keelan wasn’t coming over, she could have changed into one of the hoodies and pairs of sweatpants she had stolen from him and sat in the dark with something on Netflix that she wouldn’t pay attention to playing in the background.

“Do you guys hear that?” Maddy asks, pulling Emeline out of the trance she fell into. “Is someone knocking at the door?”

“We would know if the music wasn’t so loud,” Emeline mutters, definitely not loud enough for either of them to hear it.

“Nose goes,” Fran says, her and Maddy holding their finger to their nose like children, pointing at Emeline to get up from the couch. “Have fun, Em.”

“I bet it’s Mrs. MacGregor,” Maddy laughs, their senile downstairs neighbor constantly coming over to tell them that they were walking too loud and it was disturbing her parrot.

“If it is, you’re buying dinner this weekend,” Emeline calls, hoping their eighty something year old neighbor wasn’t on the other side of the door. “Oh, hi.”

Two guys she was sure she had never seen in the building before were standing in front of her, practically towering over her. “Your music is kind of loud,” one of them says, his cheeks turning red, shoving his hands in his pockets like he was afraid to tell her. There was something about him that she found endearing. His beard was a different shade than the rest of his hair, adding to his charm, the nervous shake of his voice making her wish she met him in a different circumstance. If she wasn’t in a ‘murder everyone’ type of mood, she would have actually wanted to be nice to him. 

“No, it is loud,” the other says, clearly not amused with his friend trying to sugarcoat the subject as Emeline makes a face at them. There was something about them that made her briefly think that they were brothers, cousins, some sort of genetic relationship had to exist between them. Either that or they were both just guys with brown hair and she was too tired to comprehend anything else.

“I know.” The shorter her answers, the shorter their conversation, right?

“Who is it?” she hears Fran calling from her chair. Emeline can picture the smug faces they had as they hoped it was Emeline who had to deal with Mrs. MacGregor and not them.

“People telling us your music is too loud.” 

“Tell them to come in and say it to our faces.” 

Emeline rolls her eyes at her roommates' antics, gesturing to the strangers to come in despite not knowing who they are or why they were in their building in the first place. “They could be murders that you’re inviting in,” she points out.

“We aren’t murderers,” the nervous one says to her before turning to Fran and Maddy once she leads them into their living room. “We aren’t murderers.”

“We just got back from a trip that was way too long. We’re eating dinner and then going to bed, but we can’t do that if the music is too loud,” the other one says. 

Maddy scoffs, finally turning the music low enough that Emeline can finally think without the music interrupting her thoughts. “Who are you, anyway?”

“Murderers,” Emeline mumbles, reclaiming her spot back on the couch.

“We’re your neighbors. I’m John, this is Jeremy.”  

“Well, John, Jeremy,” Fran starts, leaning forward on her chair, “We were just about to order pizza. Want to join us?”

Emeline glares at Fran. She knows what a long day means for Emeline’s social battery. She knows that there is nothing more that Emeline wants than to go to her room and go to bed, Keelan coming over or not. 

The nervous one, Jeremy, starts to stammer. “Uh, no, it’s fine. She doesn’t really look like she’s in the mood for company, we don’t want to bother you.”

“If you’re buying, I’ll eat,” John shrugs, plopping down on the floor next to Maddy as she hands him her phone to put in what he wants. 

“Johnny, we can’t.”

“Emeline is fine. She’s just grumpy,” Fran mocks her. Emeline throws the pillow at her, silently wishing she had something harder. “Exhibit A.”

“It’s been a long day.” 

“Ours was longer,” John counters.

“It’s not a competition,” she shoots back. Before they can say anything else, she gets up, leaving the four of them in the living room. She didn’t need this. Her room was calling. Her sweatpants and sweatshirt were on her bed waiting to be changed into. 

Someone knocks at her door just as she pulls the sweatshirt over her head. She really wasn’t in the mood for Fran to just barge in like she did. “Can you at least be nice to them for like, an hour? They’re cute. And Jeremy seems to be nervous around you,” Fran tells her in a sing-songy voice. 

“So?”

“He likes you.”

Emeline scoffs, tying the strings on her hoodie just the way she likes them. “He just met me.” 

“He said he’s seen you around the building and he’s been wanting to talk to you.”

“So he’s a stalker. How does that get brought up in the less than five minutes I’ve been in here, anyway?”

“Jesus, Emeline. Not everyone is looking to commit a felony.” Emeline avoids looking at her roommate, really just wanting to be left alone. “The pizza is gonna be here soon, the guys are nice, and I’ll even be nice to Keelan when he comes if you come back.” 

“You’re annoying.”

“And you love me, anyway,” Fran tells her, throwing her arm around Emeline and dragging her back out to the living room, finding Jeremy on the couch still looking nervous when she comes back.

Emeline sits down on the other end of the couch, tucking her feet under her. She tries not to stare at the two of them in their apartment, but Fran was right, they are cute. John looks a little younger than the three of them, but Jeremy is about the same age, she guessed. There was something familiar about both of them, though. 

“So, uh, Emeline,” Jeremy starts, not making eye contact with Emeline. “Fran and Maddy said that you’re a teacher?” 

“She teaches chemistry.” 

“I can speak for myself, you know,” Emeline tells Maddy. 

“Not according to that one guy,” Fran points out, she and Maddy exchanging knowing looks about the one coworker that Emeline hated talking about the most just as her phone vibrates.

Her roommates really did forget that she can order sulfuric acid with a few clicks of a button on her computer.

“Should we ask?” John asks, noticing the scowl that was forming on Emeline’s face.

She rolls her eyes, knowing that thanks to her roommates, these guys would find out anyway, checking her phone and groaning, throwing it to the side. She was outside contract hours, he couldn’t make her work. “My department head is a dick. He takes my lessons and my labs and passes them as his own because he claims his ‘department head duties take up so much of his time he can’t plan on his own.’ He just texted me asking what I was teaching to college-prep so we’re ‘on the same page.’” 

“Do you think he’s the one who took apart the lab you set up yesterday?” Maddy asks, Emeline noticing she stole a glance of Johnny while saying it.

“Either him or our custodial staff thought some of it was actual garbage so they threw it out,” she shrugs. “Which, reminds me, I have to order more filter paper tomorrow, remind me to do that.”

Fran and Maddy exchange looks, both of them knowing that they were going to forget to tell her, scrambling for their phones to put a reminder in for themselves.

“That sucks,” is all Jeremy can add, still not looking at her.

Emeline shrugs, her phone buzzing beside her, probably another text from Anderson. “Eh, I have some of the guys in the department who try to stick up for me, and my students seem to like me, so who cares?” 

“One thing you’ll learn about Em is that part of being a teacher is that she can never check out from being one,” Maddy explains, Johnny being the one to steal a glance at her this time. “It’s constant.” 

Fran, Maddy and John fall into conversation, Emeline trying to process that even though she knew it was true, while Jeremy just sat there awkwardly on the couch next to her not saying a word. Emeline was getting more tired by the minute, and Jeremy was still too nervous to say anything to her.

“You left the door unlocked again,” they hear, interrupting their conversation. Fran and Maddy roll their eyes, Emeline’s anxiety growing suddenly as Keelan lets himself into their apartment. “Do you know how many people could just walk by and rob you when you do that? I’ve told you not to -oh, hi.” Keelan stands there, clearly expecting to only lecture the girls about their door. His face turns red, a cup from Dunkin in his hands.

“Keel, this is Jeremy and John, they’re our neighbors,” Emeline explains as he walks over to her, kissing the top of her head and handing her the drink. Emeline took a sip, grimacing at the tea he had brought her, way too sweet for her own taste despite the fact that she had told him multiple times she didn’t like sugar in her coffee or tea.

“Huh, it’s like a triple date,” he says, leaving to drop his bag in Emeline’s room, the three girls exchanging equally confused glances. 

“He really had to come tonight?” Fran whispers. 

“He’s staying over, isn’t he?”

“Yes, and yes, stop it. You knew he was coming. You said you would be nice to him.”

“I said I would be nice to him, not about him.”  

John and Jeremy sit there in awe, trying to figure out what they had just walked into. Before her roommates could protest more, Keelan comes back, sweatpants and sweatshirt on just like Emeline. Both were wearing Boston College lacrosse gear, Emeline definitely changing into the old gear because it was comfortable after what had been a day from hell, Keelan only pulling it out because the guys were there, despite the word ‘club’ written on the breast of his sweatshirt being the noticeable difference between their clothes. That didn’t matter to Keelan in the moment; Emeline didn’t even have to ask, she knew he never wore that sweatshirt unless he felt threatened by something.

“Did either of you play lacrosse?” Jeremy asks, trying to break the awkwardness.

Keelan puts his arm around Emeline, pulling her close to him faster than she was expecting. “We both did, actually. That’s how we meet.” 

“At BC?”

“We all went to Boston College, we all played lacrosse. Three of us did all four years, too, on an actual varsity team, not the club team,” Fran snides, a not so subtle dig at Keelan, causing him to roll his eyes and hold Emeline almost uncomfortably close. 

“That’s because there’s only a club team for men. For some reason, the AD decided the women having a team was more important despite you losing in the championship three years in a row,” Keelan tries to counter, only earning an eyebrow raise from Fran who was, without a doubt, about to say something much worse to him. 

“We only lost twice and won the championship our senior year,” Fran corrected him. “BC hasn’t had a varsity lacrosse team for men since 2002. If you wanted varsity, you should have went to BU.”

“What time is the pizza getting here, Mads?” Emeline changes the subject before the dick measuring contest between her boyfriend and her roommate somehow ends with her roommate winning. Fran was, as usual in her verbal sparring against Keelan, remaining calm, while Keelan himself was two seconds from saying something that would result in him getting kicked out of their apartment permanently. 

“Oh, I didn’t know you were ordering pizza,” Keelan snides.

This was awful. This was the last thing Emeline wanted to deal with when she got home. If she went to her room, then Fran or Keelan would just follow her. As soon as the pizza was there, all she wanted to do was eat it as fast as possible and run away to her room. She needed peace. She wanted quiet. 

“I’m getting a drink, who wants something?” Emeline asks, wriggling free of Keelan’s grip and heading off to the kitchen with the practically full tea still in her hands. Emeline sighed, leaning against the counter with her eyes closed. It was already pushing 9:30 pm, half an hour from when Emeline normally went to bed happily since she had to wake up to take her train way earlier than she would like to every morning. 

“Hey,” Jeremy startles her, causing her to bump her hip harder against the cabinet, making her wince at the pain that would definitely turn into a bruise. “Sorry, we can go if you really don’t want us here. We just wanted the music to be a little quieter.” 

Emeline sighs, knowing that she was acting like a bitch. “No, it’s fine. It was just a long day that was part of a longer week. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Jeremy says, quietly. He shrugs. “It happens to all of us.”

Emeline looks at Jeremy, her entire being feeling calmer with him standing there for whatever reason. “Thanks.”

Jeremy swallows, clearing his throat. “Uh, the pizza should be here any minute. If you want, you can just take it to your room instead of staying out with us,” he tells her, somehow reading her mind, “I don’t think any of us would mind. Well, Fran seems like someone who might.”

Emeline can’t help but laugh. “She means well.”

“She seems to want what’s best for you. And for Maddy. I can respect that.” 

“She’s very protective, that’s for sure,” Emeline says, throwing out the tea and grabbing a glass of water. Without asking, she pours one for Jeremy, him taking it and smiling at her, sending a shiver down her spine that she didn’t quite know how to process. Fran had been there for her and Maddy’s darkest moments during college, which sounds dramatic, but she really was the first person either of them wanted to call if something was going wrong. She just cared, probably a little more intensely than either of them asked for. 

 The two of them go back into the living room without saying anything else, glasses in hand. The pizza had arrived, Maddy and Johnny passing them around, reading off everyone’s order. 

“Why’d you order me this?” Keelan asks when Emeline sits down, box in hand as Maddy  passes off the last two to her and Jeremy.

“You always get the honey barbeque chicken one,” Emeline points out, opening up her box, her favorite pizza making her suddenly excited. She didn’t realize how hungry she was, or remember the fact that she hadn’t eaten since her lunch at 11 that morning. 

“Yeah, you have made a very big deal about how you always get that one pizza, because it’s your favorite,” Maddy continues, spraying bits of her own pizza everywhere. 

“You’re a creature of habit, as you love to say,” Fran deadpans, not looking away from her own food. 

“I don’t want this. What did you get, Emmy?” 

Emeline freezes with her mouth open as she was bringing a slice to her mouth, already knowing where this conversation was going to end up. She tried to ignore Fran mouthing ‘Emmy,’ to Maddy, mocking the nickname Emeline admittedly hated that Keelan always used for her. “The White Greek pizza.” 

“It’s fine, we can just switch.” 

“But,” she starts, looking at her own pizza. “I don’t like barbeque. You know that.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want this.” 

The two of them stare at each other for a minute, Emeline’s mind trying to process the fact that Keelan even had the audacity to ask her to eat his pizza when he knew she detested the entire thing. They were nice enough to buy him a pizza, a surprise that he wasn’t expecting, and here he was, demanding that she give him hers? She had called him on the way home and told him all about her day and what happened, and now he was adding to it? “Take mine.” Both of them turn to Jeremy, him already holding his box out for Keelan. “I thought I ordered the barbeque one anyway, not the buffalo one, it was my mistake.” 

“Hey, thanks, man,” Keelan says, all too happy to take the pizza from someone he just met. 

Fran, Maddy, and John start to have a conversation, tuning out the three of them on the couch. Not that they were saying anything. Emeline was too mad to eat the entire thing, only picking off the olives instead. Jeremy was trying his best not to cringe at the overly sweet pizza that he had never had any intention of ordering. Keelan just existing at that moment was enough to make Emeline irritated.

“You know what,” Emeline says, closing the box of pizza, all five of them startled and suddenly turning towards her. “I think I’m going to turn in.”

“Are you sure?” Jeremy asks, a sound of panic in his voice.

“Yeah, I mean, I’m tired, I have to wake up early and I have another long day tomorrow, anyway.” Emeline leaves before anyone can protest.

The five of them watch Emeline leave, Fran and Maddy sending death glares at Keelan. 

“Why must you have the personality of a guy who’s had back pain his entire life? What is wrong with you?,” Fran scolds him, throwing a napkin at him.

“What kind of insult even is that?”

“‘I don’t want this,’” Maddy mimics in a high pitched voice. “What adult talks like that?”

“Go apologize to her or I’m going to shove my foot so far up your ass you’re going to taste that instead of the pizza you took from Jeremy,” Fran threatens.

“I offered it to him,” Jeremy tries to diffuse the situation.

“You love buffalo chicken though. Linus has fed you buffalo wings in the locker room before,” John points out.

“We’re going to talk about that in a second,” Maddy starts, “but Keelan, come on. You know how stressful this time when lacrosse starts back up for her. You could have just taken the pizza she was nice enough to order for you.” 

“I knew I should have let you starve.” 

Keelan huffs, putting the pizza down on the table in front of them. He knocks on the door to Emeline’s room, not waiting for her to invite him in since the lights were already off. He sees her in the dark, lying on her back scrolling on her phone. “I’m a dick.”

“I know.” 

He sits down on the bed next to her. “I’m sorry.” 

“For?” she asks, treating him like one of her students.

Keelan sighs, lying down. “How long have you known Jeremy?”

“I met him like an hour before you got here.”

“He was the guy in the elevator.”

Emeline groans. “I thought we were past this.”

“Well.”

“Well?”

“Well, he likes you, Em.” Emeline can’t help but scoff. “I mean, I obviously can’t blame him. But, Em, he hasn’t taken his eyes off you the entire time he’s been here. He didn’t take his eyes off you in the elevator either. John even said Jeremy had mentioned that he’s been wanting to talk to you.”

“Oh, for fucks sake,” she groans again, putting her phone on her stomach and covering her face with her hands. “So what? That doesn’t mean he likes me, it means he’s kind of a creep. And if he does, what does it matter?” 

“I’m afraid.”

Emeline reaches over to turn the lamp on, wanting to get a look at Keelan for this, this confirmation she was waiting for. She studies his face as he stares up at her ceiling fan. “Afraid of what?”

“What if I lose you?” 

Emeline lets out a little laugh. “To Jeremy? Please.” She rests her head on his chest, Keelan wrapping his arm around her and kissing her forehead. “At most, he can be a friend. Just like Jack. Just like Marc,” she says, referencing his college teammates.

“Jack and Marc didn’t so obviously like you.”

“Jack and Marc both tried to hook up with me multiple times during college.”

Keelan sighs, pulling her closer. “Just a friend?”

“Just a friend.”

[wheremermaidsdwell]

me, everytime: my brain is dying i should sleep

me: turns on youtube and pulls up my fic document

[dustylovelyrun]

Last Line Tag

Rules: Post the last line that you wrote, then tag as many people as your heart so desires, humans!

Tagged by @atomic-insomnia. Round one of the (logged) owed three, my human! If I owe you more, we’ll find out as I go poking throughout my notes again. Thank you so, so much, and I’m sorry for leaving it for so long!

“Thanks,” and, though visibly displeased with the situation, Kolisnyk eventually accepts the wordless offer, body unfurling from his admittedly entertaining slump and reaching out with his unwounded hand to grasp onto Calleum’s own. With little regards to either proper wound care or medical hygiene, Kolisnyk uses the bent and twisted fingers of his injured hand to drive into the soft earth, regaining purchase with the claw-like movement, before pressing the laceration in his palm down into the blackened topsoil. It’s with an irritable hiss that he then pushes down, using the combined momentum of his motions and Calleum’s swift tug to haul himself upwards. A momentary stagger overcomes him as he rediscovers the world on both feet, and Calleum’s hands hasten to balance him by his lower back and bicep, while Kolisnyk tilts and throws the other hand back out for some semblance of balance. He looks rather wretched, Calleum notes, while Kolisnyk continues to be quick as ever, readjusting and canting to the side, stabilizing as he shifts his weight onto the notably less muddied part of his body and the leg that doesn’t look half-beaten in its war against nature, and Calleum soon finds that he isn’t quite mature enough to reign in the soft breath of laughter that wells in his chest and releases with his observations.

From Pulse. This puppy took a little bit, with the brain constantly shifting words around and leaving me very, very confused every time I read it over. Hoping it ended up coherent. Kolisnyk is Riley, and this is the aftermath of what happens when he isn’t paying much attention, falling down an embankment, and he just so happens to do so while Calleum is absently wandering about the forest that surrounds their school somewhere during the low light of dusk, too. Riley then reveals himself to be much like any doctor, with an apprenticeship steadily underway in healing, but still making the rather poor choice of disregarding his own basic health - like slapping down a newly attained laceration in his hand into dirt.

Anyway... how are we liking the new tense? It gives me Hell~ But it’s functioning far better in terms of comprehension for me than past tense used to, and it’s all starting to flow quite nicely during the writing process, too.

Tagging: @trashplanetsandmagicforests, @aziz-writes, @thewalkingnerd, @writingamongther0ses, @rubyleaf, @juleswrites, @emelkae, @stories-by-rie, @pen-for-sword, @akindofmagictoo, @writerfae, @drippingmoon, @ineffablyendless, @oh-three, @oh-no-another-idea, @keen2meecha, @winterandwords, @writingpotato07, @bloodlessheirbyjacques, @aelenko, @maybenow22

[dapper-nahrwhale]

Hmmm. Having a predicament and I am curious to see what I should do cuz like:

So one of my players will not be available to play in the next session of our fairy tale ttrpg game. Not a big problem, but we have had this planned for weeks as it was one of the only times all 6 people are avalible to play. Now, we could just catch them up later.

But last session I thought it was about time to reveal some big plot things to the players (ie their world is not real, they are characters in a book, the world has just been destroyed and now they have to figure out what to do next as a group, they believe everyone they know to be dead, they arent but they dont know that yet, there are wars going on abt things they dont even know abt yet). And we couldn't play the week after the big stuff, so now we can finally play.

But I dont want to leave anyone out of these big things, as I am going to be revealing even more stuff abt how the world works now and going thru some individual character story arcs with them. I could just put off doing those things till later, not that big a problem usually. But I have also been doing that since the very first session.

And also everyone is really really eager and wanting to play again, and this is not the first time someone has had to miss a game, actually we havent had all 6 players there for a session together since the first one, and that was 5 months ago. Every other time I put off revealing the big things, but now I already did, and cant really put any more filler in it for them (and last session when the world got destroyed, I had anticipated all players to be there, and 2 couldn't make it at the last minute and I went through with my plans anyways, and caught up the others later in individual sessions. And that worked out well enough, it was just alot to do, and now that things are more serious I anticipate ill be doing that for everyone who misses a session, because things are going to be moving at a much faster pace now.)

And I am also very very tired of planning out things for them, and then having half the players be there, and having to come up with new things and not being able to continue or create any bigger plot points, and now seeing as we are in the bigger plot things going on, I kinda really would like everyone to be there from now on. But also. I do not anticipate being able to get everyone there for any session, as it has been an impossible feat for the entire campaign.

I AM going to be consulting with the group to see what they would like to do as a whole, but you know. I am curious to see what other people would do tbh.

[fortunately-bi]

...... If I went on a hiatus for who knows how long again would y'all hate me....... 👉👈

[incognit0slut]

Crawling back to you

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Simmons!Reader Summary: You never planned on having a casual fling with your brother's friend five years ago, nor did you expect him to fall in love with you, which forced you to end things abruptly. But now he's unexpectedly back in your life—older, wiser, and fully intent on winning your heart. Content: (18+) >12k words, reader has commitment issues, he’s the softest softdom i’ve ever written, female oral, fingering, unprotected p in v, a little squirting? teeth rotting fluff and a chaotic ending because who am i without my crack humor A/n: This is for @imagining-in-the-margins FWB writing challenge and somewhat a celebration post for 7k milestone. Idk how that happened but tysm :( I hope you like this as much as I did writing it because matt simmons is so underrated??? I’m also freaking nervous with this i haven’t posted a new fic in a while so please please please be nice i feel like throwing up

Surprise has a way of stopping time. Although you're not sure you can call it that. What you’re experiencing is more than just surprise, it’s the kind of feeling that makes you freeze in place. It’s not just a jolt to the system—it’s a full-body takeover. Your breath catches, your heart skips, and your thoughts scatter like leaves caught in the wind. How could they not, when the last person you expected to see is standing right in front of you, clad in the most questionable clothes?

You almost laugh at how absurd he looks. He’s wearing an oversized hoodie with a tacky “Washington D.C.” print sprawled across the front. It’s baffling why he’s draped in that shapeless thing over his freakishly tall frame, but it’s too hard to focus on something so trivial when you’re still grasping with the reality of seeing him again. You really can’t believe it. Spencer Reid is here. The Spencer Reid.

The guy whose heart you broke five years ago.

You should have seen this coming. In fact, you kind of did, when your brother’s friends came rushing into the hospital room, their voices a chorus of “oohs” and “aahs” as they crowded around the newborn cradled in Kristy’s arms. You exchanged polite greetings when they noticed you—Penelope even pulled you into a tight hug, gushing about how amazing you looked—and thankfully, there was no sign of him.

But you’d almost allowed yourself to believe he wouldn’t show up. When the small space became overly crowded, you stepped out into the waiting room to catch your breath… only to find him standing a few feet away with JJ.

And just like that, all the air seems to vanish from your lungs.

You had a plan, of course. In the back of your mind, you always knew a chance meeting was inevitable, whether you liked it or not. And that plan was simple. You’d offer him a polite smile. Exchange a few words, nothing too personal. You’d be friendly but distant, always make sure to keep the kind of composure that says you’ve moved on, and that the past is just that: the past.

But those well-laid plans seem fragile now, almost naive as you suddenly caught his smile. Now how do you stick to a script when your heart is starting to rewrite all the lines? Or blur the lines specifically, when the past and present merge so seamlessly that you’re reminded of the first time that same smile had charmed you.

You’re suddenly thrown back to that day five years ago, when your brother had thrown a barbecue cookout to celebrate some joint investigation his team had wrapped up. You didn’t know the details—didn’t really care to, if you were honest—but Matt had called you and insisted that you join him.

You hadn't thought much of it at the time. It sounded like another family gathering with a few new faces. But that was the day you met Spencer, and what began as a simple introduction quickly spiraled into something much more complicated. Really complicated. Because as charmed as you were by his smile, he had wanted something more from you when all you could offer him was your body.

So you ran away.

Although not very far, because apparently, he’s standing a few steps away from you, five years later. And the worst part? He’s now very much aware that you’re here. You watch as his jaw slacks open as he takes a double-take. You’re rooted in place. JJ, on the other hand, tugs his sleeve as she notices his demeanor slowly shutting down. She turns around to see what’s caught his attention, and when she spots you, a huge smile spreads across her face.

"Hey! You're here!” You force yourself to look away from him as she moves forward. You reciprocate the hug she throws at you. "How are you?”

You’re not entirely sure how to answer. How do you even explain that your heart just did a triple backflip and landed somewhere near your stomach? Or that you’re seconds away from having an internal existential crisis because, of course, the universe would choose this moment to throw Spencer Reid back into your life?

There's really no good way to sum that up. So instead, you plaster on a smile that probably looks more like a grimace and reply, "Good. I’m good.”

JJ doesn’t seem to notice the strained edges in your voice. “It’s so nice to see you again! How long has it been?”

There’s a moment of silence as you try to gather your thoughts. But before you can respond, Spencer’s voice suddenly cuts through the quiet. It’s soft, almost hesitant, as if he’s been holding onto this detail for far too long, but every syllable rings in your ears.

"Five years," he says. "Five years, three months, and seventeen days."

Your stomach does another flip. JJ raises her brows, her eyes darting between you and him. You carefully meet her gaze. "Actually, you and I met up last year.”

“Oh, right!” She exclaims, her face lighting up as the memory clicks into place. “You were in town for a conference, right? I totally forgot about that.”

“You were in town last year and you didn’t tell me?”

God, he’s making it terribly hard for you to keep your composure. You throw him a sidelong glance. “I didn’t know you wanted to see me.”

His expression shifts slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. He looks at you as if your words sounds ludicrous to him.

“I always want to see you.”

You can't decide what surprises you more, the fact that he still wants to see you after all these years, or how easily he says it. The words roll off his tongue so casually, so effortlessly, as if the weight of your shared past doesn’t cling to them. And to make matters worse, he's saying this right in front of JJ, who is now staring at him, clearly scrutinizing the significance behind his words.

You quickly shift your attention to her, forcing another smile. "So, are you going to head inside?"

JJ blinks at you. “Oh, yeah, I probably should.” She turns to Spencer and gives him a quick but knowing glance. "See you on Monday, Spence."

You glance at him. “You're not going to see the baby?"

"Spencer’s got something he needs to take care of,” JJ chimes in. There’s a slight edge to her voice, like she knows exactly what that ‘something’ is, but she doesn’t elaborate. She gives him one last look before heading inside.

You catch yourself looking up at him again. “You’re leaving?”

Spencer pauses, studying you carefully, his brow furrowing just slightly like he’s trying to read between the lines of your question.

“I was,” he says softly.

There’s a sudden tightness in your chest. “Right.”

“But now I don’t want to.”

There it goes again, the butterflies in your stomach. This is exactly why you didn’t want to see him. You knew that once you looked into his eyes, heard his voice, it would stir up everything you’ve spent five years trying to bury. You’d told yourself it was better to pretend that whatever happened between you was nothing more than a stupid choice. But now, standing here with him so close, you can feel all those walls you built crumbling down with just a few words.

You finally look at him, like really look at him. It’s impossible not to notice how he’s changed over the past five years. There are faint lines around his eyes now, signs of age that wasn't there before. His hair is longer, a little messier. It curls around his ears in a way that makes him look almost boyish, yet undeniably charming which suits him more than you'd like to admit.

But even with all the changes, his smile—gentle and just a little shy—remains the same. That smile reminds you of a time when things were simpler, where it was enough to convince you that you didn't have to keep your guard up all the time. But then you remember the reason you walked away, and his smile becomes a little harder to look at.

Because while he's changed, grown, matured, so have you, and you're not sure if there's room for the person you are now in the space that once belonged to both of you.

His eyes scan you in the same way you’re assessing him. “You look good.”

Your mouth twitches at his words. You didn’t expect him to be so straightforward. “Thank you.”

“You’re even prettier than I remember.”

The sigh you let out is long and weary. He really knows how to push your buttons.

“Spencer. Don’t.”

“What?”

“You can’t just say things like that after—” You hesitate, crossing your arms. "After everything. What happened to 'Hi, how are you?’. Or maybe something simple like ‘What have you been up to? Anything new?’”

He blinks, clearly taken aback by your abruptness. “Okay. Hi, how are you?”

You cast him a wary glance. “Good.”

"What have you been up to?"

"Work."

"Anything new?"

"No."

He pauses again, his eyes searching yours before he asks, "No new boyfriend?"

You frown. “Huh?”

“Girlfriend?”

"Spencer."

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"Spencer."

He smiles sheepishly, his shoulders sagging slightly. "You're right, that was inappropriate. I didn't think I would see you again, it’s throwing me off a bit."

“You didn’t think I would be here for my newborn niece?”

His smile turns into a grimace. "I guess I wasn't thinking clearly." He shifts on his feet, fidgeting with his fingers—a small, familiar tic that you hadn’t seen in years. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird.”

“It’s fine,” you reply, though there’s no real bite to your words. His nervous energy is making it hard to stay annoyed. Your eyes narrow on his oversized hoodie again, the casual, almost careless choice that seems slightly out of character for the Spencer you remember.

He seems to notice you staring so blatantly. “What?”

“You look funny.”

A hint of surprise flashes across his face. “You think I’m funny?”

“Different,” you correct. “Did you raid someone’s closet on your way here or something?”

"Oh… I had to change my clothes. I got wet at the park earlier.”

You glance towards the window with a frown. "It's not even raining."

"I ran through the sprinklers."

The cease on your forehead deepens. Even that sounds so unlike him. Spencer Reid doing something that carefree in public?

“You ran through the sprinklers? Alone?"

You notice his expression shift as the question leaves your lips, something very subtle, but you’ve known him long enough to catch it. The way his eyes flicker, the slight hesitation before he answers, makes it obvious. There’s a hint of something unspoken in the way he looks at you, and suddenly, it all clicks into place.

He wasn’t alone.

You look away. It's ridiculous, you think. To feel this somewhat… jealous when it should be the last thing on your mind because, really, what right do you have? What you had with him wasn’t even a relationship to begin with. But despite all the logic in the world, you can’t help the pang in your chest, the twist of something bitter and familiar curling in your gut.

"It's not what you think," he slowly says.

You force a small, awkward laugh, trying to brush it off. "I wasn’t assuming anything. It’s none of my business, anyway."

"No, really, it's nothing like that." he insists, scrunching his nose in the way he does when he's trying to think. "I mean, I did meet someone at the park, but it’s not like… what you might be thinking. We were just talking, and… and then there were these sprinklers and it wasn’t really planned or anything, then she—well, technically, we weren’t even alone the whole time because there were other people around, and it’s not like we—”

“Spencer, you don’t have to explain—” you begin, but then something dawns on you. “Wait, is this what JJ was referring to? Did you… Did you have plans?”

You notice his Adam’s apple dip as he swallows. "Kind of," he admits. “But it wasn't anything serious. It was just, you know, a casual thing.”

You can't help the way your stomach knots. Casual could mean anything. Maybe a simple coffee between two friends, or even a lighthearted conversation over lunch. But in your experience, at least in the book you and Spencer had written together in the past, casual had always meant sex. And now, hearing him say it about someone else feels like a punch to the gut you hadn't expected.

You suddenly feel foolish for letting your mind go there, for assuming that whatever he meant by casual was the same thing it had meant for the two of you back then. It's been five years, and so much has changed. Maybe casual means something entirely different for him now, and you're the one stuck in the past, reading into things that no longer hold the same weight.

He must have noticed the slight falter in your expression, the way your eyes momentarily cloud over with something you can’t quite hide. He takes a step forward. "It’s really nothing.”

You take a step back. “Even if it is, it’s really not my business.”

“But it’s not,” he urges. He’s suddenly so persistent, and you can’t help but feel the embarrassment gnawing you at how easily he can read your mind. It's one thing to wrestle with these feelings privately, but having them so clearly acknowledged makes it all the more humiliating. You can’t believe you let yourself get so worked up over something that shouldn’t matter this much.

You eye the exit door. “I need to go.”

"Right now?” His brows knit together in confusion. “But your family’s here."

You’ve only spent a few minutes with him and you’re already running away.

"I just remembered I have to take care of… something."

The excuse sounds weak even to your own ears, but you don’t wait for his response. You quickly turn on your heel, and when he calls out your name with concern, you force yourself to keep moving, scurrying off down the hallway.

Me: I'm heading back first Big bro: You okay? Me: Bad headache Big Bro: You didn't eat anything, did you?

You scoff. What is it about your brother always zeroing in on eating whenever you complain about feeling off?

Me: You know I did. Just not much Big Bro: That’s what I thought. There’s some leftover dinner in the fridge. And check the second drawer in the kitchen, there should be some ibuprofen Me: Yes, Dad Big Bro: Don’t get smart with me Me: 🫡 Big Bro: Drink lots of water Me: Yes, sir. Anything else on your mind while you’re giving out parental advice? Big Bro: I’m just trying to keep myself from dragging you out of my house if you collapse Me: 🙄 Big Bro: The kids are staying with Kristy’s parents, I’ll drop by tomorrow morning Me: Okay Big Bro: Call me if you need anything

You toss your phone down on the bed, then let out the most exasperated sigh. Spending your Saturday night in your brother’s guest room is the last thing you expect to be doing, let alone faking a headache just to avoid confronting a situationship from the past. You honestly thought you’d outgrown this kind of avoidance, but here you are, slipping back into old habits as if no time has passed at all.

Ironically, your mind stumbles into the past, and you remember a conversation you once had with Spencer. It was during one of those nights when you both were tangled in each other’s arms. You could faintly remember the conversation started with him talking about his work.

He never actually told you the details of his cases, but he liked to share his thoughts on the different complexities of the human mind. And on that particular night, he was rambling about the psychological concept of avoidance, which he claimed to have detected the first time he spotted the bad guy. He went on at how people often retreat into familiar behaviors to protect themselves from discomfort.

At the time, you had brushed it off with a joke, teasing him about overanalyzing everything when the situation had already played out. But now the irony isn’t lost on you. You’re doing exactly what he once explained. It’s almost laughable if it didn’t sting so much to realize how right he was.

A sharp ding from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts, and one glance at it tells you exactly who’s messaging. The name on the screen makes your chest tighten, but you don’t even give yourself a moment to consider responding. You quickly turn the phone to silent, push yourself off the bed, and head straight for the kitchen. True to your brother’s words, there’s leftover pizza in the fridge, but the idea of reheating it doesn’t seem appealing to you.

You reach for the bottle of wine instead.

The red liquor tastes like butter, or something close to it. It’s similar in the way the liquid melts over your tongue, spreading warmth through your chest and settling comfortably in your belly. By the time you're sipping the second glass, you feel more relaxed, but then the sharp sound of the doorbell ringing cuts through the calm.

You glance at the door from the position of the couch. You have a strong feeling about who it is. But as much as you're sure of the who, what really gnaws at you is the why.

You hesitantly make your way toward the door, and sure enough, when you pull it open, Spencer is standing at your brother’s doorstep. The corner of his lips turns upward in an awkward, almost apologetic half-smile as if he’s unsure of how to begin or whether he should even be there in the first place.

You lean against the doorframe. “Did Matt tell you I was here?”

He gives you a pointed look, his eyebrows raising slightly. “No, but it wasn’t hard to figure out.” You throw him the same questioning look, and he explains, “This is the only place you’d stay in town because not only do you hate staying alone at a hotel, but Matt wouldn’t let you even if you tried.”

You can’t believe he still remembers your offhand comment about sterile hotel rooms. It’s one of the reasons you used to prefer staying at his apartment whenever you were in town.

“Why are you here anyway?” You ask. “I thought you had plans.”

He pauses for moment as if deciding how much to say. Finally, he clears his throat. “Can I come in? I’d rather explain it inside.”

"I don't think you owe me any explanations about what you do with your time," you reply, crossing your arms.

"Maybe I don't owe it, but I want to give it.”

“Which isn’t necessary.”

“But appreciated, I hope.”

You find yourself caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. You tell yourself not to read too much into it, but there's a part of you that can't help but soften at his words. Maybe it's the way his eyes reminds you of melted chocolate as he stares at you that makes you want to let him in, despite your better judgment.

You pull the door open. “Fine, but take your shoes off. Kristy’s very serious about hygiene.”

He does as he’s told and tucks away his shoes on the rack by the door.

“Do you want anything to drink?”

He shakes his head slightly, offering a small smile. "I'm good, thanks."

You nod and gesture toward the living room. He follows you, and as you both approach the couch, he instinctively moves to the far end, settling down cautiously as if not wanting to invade your space. You take a seat on the opposite end.

“So, what do you want to talk about?”

He leans back slightly, resting his hands on his knees. You can tell he's trying to gauge your mood, figure out how much to push and when to hold back. "Do you remember when we went on that date at the street fair?"

You frown, remembering how you had missed your bus home in one of your trips here and ended up wandering at the fair with him. “That wasn’t a date.”

"Fine. Do you remember when we went to the street fair together not on a date?"

“I remember."

His shoulders relax a bit at your response. “You spent ages deciding what to eat and you ended up choosing that little Korean stall in the corner. We had to walk a bit further to get there even when your shoes were hurting you.”

You think back, internally scolding yourself for wearing those damn boots that day. “You thought I was being ridiculous.”

"I didn't think it was ridiculous. I just didn't get it at first. Your feet were practically covered in blisters."

"I really wanted kimchi."

"I could tell, and it took me a while to understand why you went through all that trouble. Now I do.”

You glance at him, sensing there's more behind his words. “Why are you bringing this up?"

He meets your gaze. His brown eyes looking a little more golden underneath the dim light. "I guess this is me choosing.”

“That you’re craving for Korean?”

He gives a soft, genuine laugh, the kind that starts in his chest and reaches his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. “Not exactly,” he says and leans a little closer. “What I’m trying to say is, that’s how I feel right now. I'm here because I want to be, not because it's convenient, but because it’s you.”

There’s a subtle flutter in your chest, and your skin prickles with a familiar warmth as he speaks. Your heart beats a little faster, not enough to be alarming, but just enough to remind you that you’re not as unaffected as you pretend to be. You can feel your palms start to sweat, and there’s that almost imperceptible hitch in your breathing that you hope he doesn’t notice.

“Spencer…” You don’t even know how to start. “It’s been five years."

He nods slowly. “I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do. A lot of has changed since the last time we saw each another, and you’re here acting like we both separated on good terms? Don't you hate me?”

His brow furrows slightly. “Why would I hate you?”

“Because I broke your heart. I—" Your voice falters as you struggle to find the right words. "The moment you told me you were falling in love with me, I... I ran. I couldn’t handle it. I pushed you away like a coward.”

“You weren't a coward, you were scared. And maybe I didn’t understand that back then, but I do now.”

You shake your head. “But I hurt you.”

The sigh he lets out is heavy, yet there's something deceptively calm about it, almost as if he’s already made peace with the past. “You did what you thought you had to do, and sure, it hurt. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I realized that I don’t blame you for needing space. It wasn’t about me not being enough, it was about you needing to protect yourself.”

His words start to chip away at the wall you’ve built around your heart. “I thought you’d hate me,” you admit quietly.

“I could never hate you."

You lower your gaze, your fingers fiddling nervously with the edge of the cushion. “Alright, let’s say you choose me. Now what? What is it that you want?”

He pauses for a moment, his fingers curled into his palms. He looks away briefly, taking a deep breath as if gathering his thoughts, then returns his gaze to you. “I want another chance.”

If you were surprised to see him at the hospital earlier, this is something entirely different. There’s something akin to panic fluttering in your chest. It’s amusing, really, how the human body reacts before the mind fully comprehends as if your heart knows what’s coming before you do. You can feel it in the way your breath catches, in the way your stomach knots with a nervous energy you can’t quite shake. Because how do you even react to that?

You finally turn to face him, leaning your head against the back of the couch. This moment feels like some sort of déjà vu, and just like the last time, your mind is already bracing itself, preparing to give him the same answer you did back then.

“You know it’s never going to work.”

He mirrors you, but instead of the frustration or sadness you half-expected, there’s a gentle smile on his lips. “You sound so sure.”

“That’s because I am,” you reply. “I know what you’re asking for right now, and we don’t function like that. Not in the past, at least.”

“How did we function?”

“Based on sex.”

“And what do you think I’m asking for now?”

“More than sex, which isn’t going to work."

“Why not?”

“Because—” you start, but the words catch in your throat. You’re not even sure how to explain. The fears, the doubts, the past... all of it feels too big, too overwhelming to articulate in a way that makes sense.

“Because the idea still terrifies you?”

You frown, caught off guard by the directness of his question. “No.”

The smile stretches even more across his face. “Then give me one good reason why you think so.”

"Oh I can name a few."

He studies you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he’s trying to read every thought racing through your mind. “Let’s make a deal then. You give me those reasons why we can’t work, and I’ll give you reasons why we can.”

You’re quiet for a moment, considering his offer. It’s bold, almost reckless, and yet... there’s something in his eyes that makes you want to accept the challenge.

"And if your reasons aren’t good enough?"

“Then we’ll deal with that when we come to it,” he replies softly. “But I’m willing to bet we won’t have to.”

"You really think you can convince me?"

"I can try." He leans a little closer, just enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from his body. "So, what’s your first reason?"

That’s too easy, too obvious. “You’re one of my brother’s closest friends,” you point out. “What happens if this doesn’t work out? I don’t want to put him, or us, in that position.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “That didn’t stop us in the past.”

You scoff. “Spencer, we were sneaking around behind his back. It’s not exactly the same thing. This… whatever this is, it would be out in the open, and that’s a whole different level of complicated.”

“It would be different, yes. But that doesn’t mean it has to be a problem. If anything, it shows how serious we were then, and how serious we could be now.” You scrunch your nose at his response. “Now what’s next on your list?”

"Uhh.. the distance! You’re in D.C., and I’m not. It’s not like I can just drop everything and move closer.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re a three-hour drive away, maybe two if I take the expressway. And honestly, with how much we both travel for work, I don’t see how that’s an issue.”

His reasoning is so undeniably logical you feel a flicker of annoyance, not at him, but at how easily he’s dismantling your arguments.

“You didn’t even want to visit me back then.”

"You were the one who didn't want me to. You kept saying it was easier for you to come here.”

His words hit harder than you expect. You remember all the times you insisted on making the trips yourself. You'd convinced yourself it was about convenience, but with him calling you out on it, you realize it wasn't about convenience at all. It was about keeping things on your terms, maintaining a safe distance even when that distance wasn't physical.

"Well, I had more flexible hours," you claim. The excuse is flimsy, and the way Spencer looks at you—patient, but not fooled—makes it clear that he sees right through it.

You try to think of your next reason, although the words seem to get stuck before they even form. You know you can easily rattle off more excuses, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes it harder than it should be.

“That’s it? You’ve only thought of two? I was expecting a bit more of a challenge.”

You scowl at him. "I didn’t say I was done."

"Take your time," he comments, leaning back slightly, still wearing that infuriatingly patient smile.

You huff softly, trying to regain your footing. "Okay, how about this? Sex."

There's a beat of silence. "What about sex?"

You feel the words forming, but they sound ridiculous even in your own mind. Still, you force them out of your mouth. Your subconscious is urging you to come up with more excuses to keep him at arm’s length. "That was all that we had. What if… what if we just fall back into the same patterns?"

“Don't you think that's a reason why we can work? If we were only ever about sex and we're still here, doesn't that show there's something more between us?"

“Or it just means we had a strong physical connection. That doesn’t necessarily mean there’s something more.”

“You really believe that? That all we had was just physical?”

“Yes,” you retort, though the confidence in your voice wavers slightly. Your eyes flicker away for a split second before you meet his gaze again. “That’s all it ever was and I don’t know if it can turn into something you’re trying to imply.”

He lets out a low, amused sound, as the corners of his mouth twitches upward. “You’re deflecting.”

“I’m being realistic,” you shoot back. “What if we try, and it doesn’t work? What if everything falls apart because we weren’t good at anything but the sex?”

His eyes light up, and suddenly he’s wearing the most boyish grin you’ve ever seen on him. “So you're admitting the sex was good?"

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“You know what I mean. What we had was...” Wild? Passionate? Crazy-hot-mind-blowing sex? “…intense. But intensity isn't enough for a relationship. What if the rest of it doesn't hold up?"

He leans in closer, his hand hovering near yours on the couch.

“But what if it does?”

All you can do is stare at him.

“You’re giving me all these reasons to push me away again,” he continues. “But I’m here because I’m not afraid of those doubts. I’ve always wanted to give you more than what we had because you deserve something real. I want us to be real this time, and I think you do too, even if you’re scared to admit it.”

His words are affecting you more than you like to admit. You can slowly feel it in the tension building between you, it’s surprisingly not the uncomfortable kind, but the sort that pulls you in, that makes you want to move closer even though every instinct tells you to stay put.

And then it happens. You feel a slight tremor in your leg, an involuntary movement that causes it to brush against his. The contact is so light it's almost like it didn't happen at all, but it did. He notices—Of course he does—and now there’s a certain gentleness in his gaze like he knows exactly what's going on inside your head. He doesn't push, doesn't rush, just watches you with those impossibly kind eyes.

And in the softest, most careful voice, he asks, “Can I move closer?"

Your heart is pounding now, the rhythm echoing in your ears, in your chest, in the pulse at your throat. The sensation travels downward, a slow, steady beat that moves through your body, inching its way down your spine, tightening in your stomach before it settles low in your abdomen. It’s a heat that spreads outward until it reaches your core, leaving you acutely aware of every inch of space between you and him—and how much you want to close that distance.

You find yourself nodding. He shifts closer. “Can I touch you?”

You really want to say something witty, something that might deflect from the weight of the situation, but the words won’t come out. You can only manage another nod. He moves slowly, carefully, giving you every opportunity to pull back. But you don’t. You can’t. You’re rooted in place as his hand reaches for you.

His palm gently rests on your jaw. Your eyes flutter closed against your consciousness, and the tension that’s been coiling in your chest slowly unwinds, replaced by a sense of calm. When his thumb slides across your cheek, he speaks again. His voice is so close it's as if the words themselves are brushing over your lips.

"Can I kiss you?"

You inhale sharply. The word "Yes" hovers on the tip of your tongue, but you don't need to say it out loud. He can already see the answer in the way you’re leaning into him, and his mouth is on yours in an instant.

The reality is, you’ve kissed Spencer before. Plenty of times, actually. You know the feel of his lips, the way they can be both gentle and demanding, the way he tastes faintly of coffee or something sweet when he’s had a treat. You also think back to those hurried kisses in the past when time was short and the world was pressing down on you. Or the playful pecks that came with laughter. Even the desperate, heated moments when the need to feel something, anything, was too overwhelming to resist.

This kiss, however, isn’t like any of those. This one is slow, and achingly tender. His movements are unhurried. The way his lips glide over yours carries a deep sense of care, like he’s trying to memorize every soft curve. Just as you begin to melt in his arms, he pulls away slightly, not very far, but enough to hover close that you can still feel the heat of his breath on your lips.

There’s a tense silence as the tip of his nose brushes gently against your cheek. You can tell he’s giving you the space to decide what happens next, and there are a lot of scenarios running in your head. You could push him away, repeating history all over again. You could be in denial and pretend all of this never even happened. But something inside you snaps.

Maybe it’s the way he’s holding back, so gentle, so careful, too afraid of pushing too far. Or maybe it’s the realization that you don’t want him to hold back, that you need more, that you’re tired of resisting what you’ve both been dancing around for so long. Before you can second guess yourself, you’re clutching onto the fabric of his hoodie, tugging him closer.

He tenses for a moment, but the hesitation is gone almost as soon as it appears. His mouth finds yours again, and he lets out a deep, relieved sigh. You feel the soft, insistent push of his tongue against the seam of your lips. You hold onto him, parting your mouth eagerly before he slips his tongue with a desperation that catches you off guard.

Then his hands seem to be everywhere all at once, tracing the curve of your spine, sliding down to the small of your back, and brushing along the edge of your jaw. His fingers then tangle in your hair, tugging gently while his other hand skims over your waist. But when his hand slips inside your shirt, calloused fingers brushing your soft skin, you slowly pull away. “W-Wait.”

His eyes widen slightly, and you can feel the shift in his body. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no,” you say quickly, tugging him closer again. “I just… I think we should continue this conversation somewhere more… private?”

He pauses for a moment. “Really?”

“If you want to.”

A subtle smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Are you trying to seduce me for sex?”

You’re oscillating between being incredibly turned on and equally mortified. In a sense, yes, that’s what you’re asking. But you didn’t expect him to be so blunt about it. You don’t think he’s ever been this direct in the past, and now you’re wondering if you missed something before, or if he’s just tapped into a level of confidence you’re struggling to keep up with.

“Would it be inappropriate if I said that I am?” you ask hesitantly, and you can’t help but wince a little as the words leave your mouth.

“Since when have you been worried about being inappropriate with me?”

“Well, Spencer, if you haven’t noticed, there’s a five-year gap since the last time we slept together.”

His hand on your waist tightens slightly. “Five years too long, if you ask me.” Then he pulls you closer until there’s barely any space left between you. “You do realize this is you giving me a second chance, right?"

In a way, you do. You've spent so much time convincing yourself that you were better off keeping your distance. Walking away in the past was easy, but now… now it feels different. The years have stretched on, and the excuses you’ve made have started to wear thin. Especially when just being near him is starting to stir memories you thought you’d buried—some good, some less so—but all intense, all Spencer.

Maybe he's right. Maybe five years is too long to pretend that whatever was between you didn't matter.

You slowly meet his gaze. “I realize.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

You hesitate, not out of doubt, but because of the sheer gravity of what you're about to say.

"Maybe."

His sigh is audible when he hears your answer, and without missing a beat, he brushes the barest, lightest, most gentle of kisses on your lips. “Maybe is good.” Kiss. “I can take—” Kiss. Kiss. “—maybe.”

You think you should say something more, but all coherent thoughts scatter the instant his lips meet yours again. You return his kisses, hesitant at first, but quickly falling into a rhythm that feels achingly familiar. It doesn’t take long until his lips move into something more urgent. There’s a hunger there, a pent-up longing that he can no longer hold back. His tongue flicks against yours, teasing, coaxing, and you know you need to stop him before he starts to undress you right there on the couch.

You reluctantly pull back. “Bedroom. Now.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls you to your feet, and you’re practically dragging him to the guest bedroom. When the door closes behind you, he’s quick to guide you toward the bed, his hands firm on your hips as he steers you backward. The moment your legs hit the edge of the bed, he pauses, his hands lingering on your waist, and for a moment, he just looks at you.

“Having second thoughts?” You tease. The sarcasm drips sweetly in your voice, knowing full well he’s been trying to win your heart the entire evening.

“No,” he mutters. “I’m trying to see if you are.”

You draw back from his arms just enough to climb onto the bed and lay down in the middle. “Does it look like I am?”

He shakes his head with that cute, bashful smile. Although there’s nothing bashful about the way he pulls off his hoodie and tosses it carelessly onto the floor. The shirt underneath is crumpled, and his hair is even messier, sticking up in ways that make you want to run your hands through it.

“Come here,” you motion for him. Without hesitation, he crawls between your legs and leans in for another kiss. His hair feels like the smoothest silk when you finally reach for it. There’s a slight dampness from the faint sheen of sweat on his skin, the way it curls just slightly at the ends, brushing against your forehead as he dips his head to capture your mouth.

You don’t think you can ever get tired of kissing him. There’s a familiarity in the way he moves. His lips mold perfectly to yours, soft yet demanding, as if he knows exactly how to draw out the deepest parts of your desire. And you feel it everywhere. In your pulse, in your veins, all the way down to the spot between your legs.

It intensifies even more when his lips begin to trail down your neck. You feel the first warm rush of arousal pooling in your panties when he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your throat, the fluttering veins below your jaw with so much intensity as if he's taking every one of your heartbeats for himself. Your grip tightens in his hair as he marks another spot near your collarbone.

“I’ve missed this so much,” he murmurs as he slowly nips down your neck. “I’ve missed you.”

You can only hum a reply, your voice catching in your throat as your head starts to spin from the way his hands are now trailing down your side. He reaches the hem of your shirt and pauses, fingers lightly tugging at the fabric.

“Can I take this off?” He asks, pulling back slightly just enough to look down at you. With his messy hair falling into his glossy brown eyes and swollen wet lips, how can you possibly say no to him?

Without a second thought, you nod, your fingers already moving to help him with the fabric. His eyes never leave yours as he slowly lifts your shirt. It slides up over your skin, and you raise your arms to let him pull it off completely, tossing it aside without a care. Your bra comes off next, and when that follows to the floor, his eyes sweep over your body.

There’s a certain look in his gaze. Devotion would be too strong of a word, but it’s something close—something softer, yet just as intense. You’ve seen desire before, felt it in fleeting touches and heated glances, but this is different. This feels different. It’s as if his gaze is reaching into the spaces between your thoughts, gently pulling at the threads that hold you together to unravel you in the most tender of ways.

He kisses the spot between your breasts.

“You’re always so pretty.”

He gives a soft peck just above your heart.

“So incredibly beautiful.”

Then his tongue flicks along the delicate curve of your chest, making a slow, teasing trail upward until he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucks gently, rolling it around with his tongue, and you’re mesmerized by the lewd scene of him drawing your flesh between his lips. Your fingers instinctively find their way back into his hair, tugging on the soft strands as he continues to lap at your sensitive skin.

He then shifts slightly, his mouth releasing your nipple with a soft, wet sound before moving to give the same attention to the other. While he suckles and nibbles on one hardened peak, he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger, sending a rush of pleasure straight to your core. If you thought you were wet before, you’re certain you’re drenched by now. Your panties cling uncomfortably and the growing desire makes you ache to peel them off.

He must sense your growing need because his kisses trail lower, down to your stomach, while his fingers toy with the waistband of your leggings. His touch is teasing, slipping just under the elastic, and you instinctively lift your hips, silently begging for more. He takes his time as he slides the fabric down your legs, his knuckles brushing against your skin before discarding them somewhere in the room.

Your attention is on him as his palm dances along your inner thigh, and the closer he gets to where you ache him the most, the more your breath hitches in your throat. When his thumb brushes over the wet patch on your panties, your hips buck against him. “Spencer…”

He glances over at you and lets out the most appreciative sigh. You really are beautiful. Eyes full of lust, skin flushed with his marks. You’re a vision of longing, and every part of him is consumed by the sight of you. “Yes?”

You squirm under his gaze. “Aren’t you… going to take them off?”

A slow, teasing smile spreads across his face. “What, these?” He gives a playful tug at the edge of your panties, his fingers just barely slipping beneath the fabric before pulling away. “Are you sure you want them off?”

You try to hold back your groan when his thumb finds your clit. “Yes. I-I’m sure.”

He grins, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you, but instead of giving in immediately, he begins to circle your clit slowly with his thumb, watching your reaction closely. “On a scale from one to ten, how sure are you?”

Now he’s starting to get on your nerves. You can’t hold back the small huff falling from your lips. He simply laughs then slowly takes off the last piece of your clothing. The cool air instantly hits your skin as he grabs your knees, spreading your legs apart. He skims along your naked body and when you notice where his gaze settles, you swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy.

It's kind of ironic, you think, how you've gotten this far, and now, of all times, you're suddenly blushing like a damn teenager. It's as if your brain is catching up to everything your body already knows—that this is real, and it's happening. You can't help but laugh at yourself a little. Here you are, all tangled up in each other, practically begging him to get you naked and yet you're acting shy now?

He seems to notice the shift in your mood, his hands pausing on your thighs as he looks up at you with concern. He tilts his head slightly, his brow furrowing. “Did I do something wrong?”

You quickly shake your head. “I’m suddenly feeling very self-conscious.”

He studies your face for a moment. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” you blurt out, more forcefully than you intended, your hand instinctively reaching out to grab his wrist. “I… I guess I’m not used to feeling this exposed in front of you.”

He shifts slightly, moving closer so he’s eye-level with you, his hands still resting gently on your thighs. “We’ve done this countless times before.”

“I know, but that was years ago. Things feel different now… like there’s more at stake, maybe?” You let out a sigh. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not silly,” he reassures you. He soothes the skin behind your thighs. “But you don’t need to feel self-conscious with me. You’re beautiful, and I just want you to feel as good as you make me feel.”

If he keeps talking to you like that, there’s no doubt you’ll end up giving him your heart on a silver platter by the end of this. He shifts lower down your body. “We can go as slow as you want,” he continues, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another. “Just tell me what you need.”

You take a deep breath as his soft stubble grazes your skin. “I need you.”

“Then you’ll have me.”

You watch with heavy lids as he drags his lips along your skin until he presses the most tender kiss on your cunt. He really wasn’t lying when he said he could go as slow as you want because every kiss is achingly gentle, barely more than a feather-light touch. It’s the kind of softness that makes you writhe beneath him, and before you know it, your fingers are tangling in his curls while your hips buck against his face.

There’s a slight vibration on your skin—it could be his laughter, or maybe just a hum of contentment—but you don’t bother deciphering it. You’re too lost in the sensation as his tongue breaches your folds. You peer down and watch as he trails the tip of his tongue through your wetness, slowly tracing up and down your slit until he flicks it against your clit.

You’re honestly gone after that. You’re not surprised, though. If there’s one thing Spencer Reid is good at, it’s knowing exactly how to use his mouth. Sure, he’s a bona fide genius who spouts off random facts and quotes obscure literature, but his mouth? His mouth is a whole different level of expertise. It’s almost unfair how good he is. It’s like he’s studied you, memorized every little thing that makes you go crazy, and now he’s putting all that knowledge to devastatingly good use.

And it’s not like he’s doing it just for your pleasure. It brings him the same deep satisfaction. His eyes are closed, and he seems to lose himself in the act, savoring every taste, every reaction, every subtle shift of your body beneath him. It’s as though he’s completely immersed in finding an almost insatiable need to drink in everything about you. His tongue delves deeper, swirling around your entrance before sucking gently on your folds, pulling the soft skin into his mouth.

You find yourself pressing his head closer to your heat. His eyes flickers up to you. “You’re back.” Your response is simply another push of his head. “Oh. Needy, are we now?”

"Mhm," you manage to squeak out, feeling a rush of wetness seeping out of you. He leans in, his tongue catching a bead of moisture before it drips further, dragging it between your slick folds.

Your grip in his hair tightens.

“Spencer…”

“I know, I know,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a smile before his mouth descends again, this time focusing on your clit. His tongue flicks over the sensitive nub before he gently sucks, pulling it into his mouth with a slow rhythm that has you gasping. Each motion is perfectly timed and you feel yourself growing even wetter under his attention. His tongue swirls, then flattens before he sucks a little harder.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel that familiar coil in your stomach. The pleasure builds steadily, the tension winding tighter and tighter until it slowly overwhelms you. Spencer seems to sense it too, his hands gripping the back of your thighs a little tighter, pushing them further apart as he continues with unwavering focus. He’s not rushing, though, he’s savoring it, but his slow motion is enough to make you snap.

Your hips jerk against his mouth, and he doesn’t miss a beat, holding you steady as he continues his ministrations. He’s relentless in his gentleness, coaxing every ounce of pleasure from you, even as you’re left gasping for air. When you finally come down from the high, Spencer finally lifts his head and places a final, soft kiss on your inner thigh.

“Do you still feel self-conscious now?”

It takes you a moment before you can answer. You smile lazily at him. “Not after that.”

He grins and pulls you up into a sitting position. “Do you think you can give me another one?”

“Spencer,” you breathe out. “Even if you gave me thousands of orgasms, I’d probably ask for more.”

The laugh he lets out is warm and infectious, the sound vibrating through you in a way that makes you smile even wider. “Well,” he starts, slipping his hand down your thigh. “The human body is capable of experiencing multiple orgasms in a relatively short period of time, especially for women. So technically, you could keep asking for more, and I could keep giving them.”

“Even up to a thousand?”

“Maybe not to that extent.” He pulls you close, and you lean your weight against him. “Hold on to me.”

You do as you’re told and somehow you find yourself in a new position. When he spreads your legs apart, your senses go on high alert again. “Spence?”

He kisses your cheek, your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. “Try to relax.”

A gasp escapes your lips as his fingers dive between your thighs. Try to relax? Try to relax? Men and their audacity to tell you what to do, especially when they're the reason you're so wound up in the first place. Because how are you supposed to relax when his fingertips are brushing ever so gently over your clit? How are you supposed to calm your breathing when he’s spreading your arousal up and down your folds?

And how are you supposed to keep your composure when he suddenly fills you with, not one, but two of his fingers?

You feel yourself slipping and he tightens his other arm around your waist. “Told you to hold on.”

He’s starting to annoy you, but you listen to him and bury your face in the crook of his neck. You take a deep breath as he starts to move his fingers. Soap, you decide. It must be his soap, because he smells clean and crisp, almost like fresh linen and a hint of something peppery. It’s almost distracting if it weren’t for the way his fingers are curling inside of you.

Then you feel that sensation again, the kind that ripples through every nerve of your body. At first, it’s manageable, an intensity you think you can handle. But when he suddenly changes his technique, everything shifts. His entire hand moves in a fast, up-and-down motion that catches you completely off guard, and before you know it, you’re whining, your grip tightening on him as your head falls on his shoulder.

The rapid pace makes your head spin. It feels like he’s pulling the control right out of your hands, leaving you questioning your own limits. You’ve seen yourself getting wet, you’ve felt yourself become drenched before, but you’ve never experienced anything like this. You never realized your body could produce this much liquid. It’s not an overwhelming amount, but more than you’ve ever seen from yourself, and it splatters against his hand, dripping down your thighs.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even flinch when your nails claw into his shirt. He keeps going, and going, and going, until the only thing you hear is your rapid breathing against his neck and the slick, wet sounds he’s coaxing out of you. You’re overwhelmed (in the best way, of course) but you can’t stop yourself from cursing as the sensation intensifies, multiplies even.

It's not until your body starts to go limp that he finally takes pity on you. He slows down, his fingers pumping lazily inside you. “Good?”

“How did you—when did you—” you exhale a long breath. “I can’t feel my legs.”

He slowly withdraws his fingers out, only to rub your essence over your puffy clit, and your hips jerk once more before he finally stops. You're a trembling mess once you sink into the mattress.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you do that before.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever done that in my life.” Your eyes suddenly feel incredibly heavy that you can't resist letting them flutter close.

He kisses the tip of your nose. “Still up for another one?”

You peer through one eye, and when you catch him starting to undress himself, your other eye shoots open. The nod you give him is eager. His smile widens as he shrugs off his shirt, and you can’t help but let your gaze drop to the line of hair trailing down his stomach. You wonder what it would feel like under your tongue.

"Wait."

Your eyes snap back up to meet his. "What?"

His face twists into a grimace. “I don’t have a condom.”

Shit. Neither did you.

You roll onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow and resting your head in your hand. “And you’re realizing this just now?”

“I was too focused with you."

And by that, he means giving you the most intense orgasm of your life. You watch as his fingers hover over his belt. “You really didn’t think of bringing one when you decided to come over?”

“My intention coming here wasn’t exactly for this.”

“Well, it would be great if you at least considered the possibility." You study his face and blurt out the first thing on your mind, “I don’t want to stop.”

He shifts his weight on the bed. “Me neither.”

“I mean… we could have sex without using one. We’ve done it before. Once.”

He recalls what you're referring to and lets out an amused laugh. “Are you sure? Didn’t you freak out when you realized your period was late?”

“That was a coincidence! I was stressed out at that time, but I’m safe now—I think.” You pause, brows furrowing as you start calculating your cycle in your head. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m not ovulating.”

“Pretty sure?”

You give him a look. “No, I’m actually sure. I know my body, and I’ve done the math. See?” You gesture vaguely, as if the numbers and facts are floating in front of you. “No ovulation in sight.”

The corners of his mouth twitches into a smile. “Alright then,” he murmurs, and leans down to plant a soft kiss on your lips. “No ovulation in sight.”

“None,” you confirm before tugging his belt. “Can you please take off your pants now?”

He complies—with incredible speed—and when he’s finally as naked as you, your mouth waters at the sight of him. His cock is painfully hard, thick, with a bead of arousal glistening at the tip. You try to reach for him, but he has other plans. He crawls over your body and slips between your legs. He then grips the back of your thigh with one hand, pulling it up slightly to open you to him, while the other holds himself from the base.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The moan you let out is lewd. “Fuck, Spencer.”

An airy laugh slips out from him as he rubs the head of his cock around your clit. “So needy.”

You wiggle your hips. “Hurry up.”

He only hums in response, before easing his hips back just enough to drag his swollen tip through your slick outer lips. The underside of his cock splits your folds open with each stroke, and your head is spinning. It’s almost sweet how he’s taking this slow, but at this point, you’re so close to just shoving him inside you. You let out a frustrated whine when he pulls back, only to thrust forward just enough for the head of his cock to nudge at your entrance.

Your walls squeeze around him.

“O-Oh…” His mouth falls open slightly as he stares down at where your bodies meet. “I… I don’t remember you being this tight.”

You follow his gaze, watching the way your outer lips swallow him inch by inch. “I-It’s been a while.”

He pushes further, and your nails dig into his shoulders as he stretches you in a way that feels almost too much, and you can't help but tense when he thrusts further. He wraps your leg around his waist before leaning down, propping his weight on his elbows.

“Need you to relax,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over the pulse fluttering wildly in your neck. You do as he says. Breathe in, breathe out. Clench, unclench. And then you feel him easing inside you, oh-so-deliciously slow, until you squeak out a gasp when he finally fills you completely.

Because fuck, he stretches you—wrenches you open, and you’re consumed by his heat, the pressure, the sheer size of him. It overwhelms your senses, and all you can do is sing out a filthy moan. He follows your tune with a melody of his own, though his voice trembles, sounding more like he’s in pain as if he’s trying to hold himself back.

“You’re so warm,” he groans, his breath hot against your skin. “You okay?”

You nod and wrap an arm around his shoulders. “More than okay.”

“Do you think I can move?”

“Please.”

There’s no hesitation in the way he pulls back, only to sink into you again. His hips roll against yours in a way that feels both achingly slow and unhurried, like he’s savoring every second to memorize the way you feel around him. It’s like he can’t quite believe this is happening, that you’re giving him the chance to be tangled up with you in this position again.

And truthfully, neither can you.

But here you are, two bodies moving in perfect harmony, intertwined in the most primal, human way. Flesh against flesh, breath against breath. Even your heartbeats sync in the same rhythm. The world beyond seems to dissolve, leaving nothing but the pull of desire that draws you deeper into the moment, into him, until the boundaries of where you end and he begins blur into something undefinable.

It’s nonexistent. You’re glued to him, fused in a way that feels as if this is exactly where you belong.

No more running away, you decide.

“Kiss me.”

He’s in no position to decline, and within a heartbeat, he captures your lips in the sweetest kiss—well, as sweet as it can go. Because even though he tastes like honeyed warmth, his hips continue to pound into you, hitting that deep, tender spot inside. You whine against his lips. A needy, breathless sound that has him faltering for just a second, his hips stuttering against yours.

“You feel so—” he chokes on his words. “God, you’re so perfect.”

You’re perfect, you want to say, but you stop yourself, biting down on the words before they escape. It’s not that you don’t believe it. You just can’t bring yourself to admit it out loud. Not yet. Instead, your need wins out, pushing past everything else.

“More,” you gasp between shallow breaths.

He rests his forehead against yours. “Yeah? You want me to go faster?”

You whine in approval.

The instant he pulls back, his tip barely teasing your entrance before slamming into you again, a sharp gasp escapes your lips. He repeats the motion. Once. Twice. By the third time, he doesn’t hold back, driving his hips hard and fast, the wet sound of your bodies slapping together echoing off the walls.

You turn into a putty mess. You can barely think, let alone form words, your mind clouded with nothing but the feeling of him—inside you, around you. Your whole world narrows down to this moment, to the way he fills you so perfectly. His forehead stays pressed against yours the whole time, his lips hovering above yours he murmurs, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

But it’s not. It’s everything. Maybe even not enough. “I…” you gasp when a certain angle from him hits a deep spot inside you. “Oh, Spencer… harder, p-please.”

He’s more than happy to oblige.

He shifts slightly, then snaps his hips forward with a sudden, forceful thrust. He repeats the motion. Over and over again. His pace is relentless now, and he starts to pant, his breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts, every exhale brushing against your lips. There’s a tension in his body, a taut strain in muscles, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. And you can’t help but moan softly into his mouth, swallowing each of his gasps as his control starts to slip away.

“Where do you want—” His voice falters. “Can I—inside—”

You nod frantically. “Yes. Yes.”

It’s enough to push you both over the edge.

The sensation starts as a gentle warmth in your fingertips, slowly winding its way through your body. It weaves through your limbs, spirals up your spine, before gathering intensely at your core. You’re shaking, trembling, and you instinctively reach out for something to ground yourself. One hand threads into his curls, the other clutches his jaw.

Then it happens. His cock moves in a frantic rhythm, sending you spiraling deeper into intense pleasure for the third time tonight. Your inner walls tighten around him as your orgasm crashes through you, gripping him so tightly that it pulls a raw, breathless groan from his lips. He slams into you with uneven thrusts as he presses your body flat onto the bed, until he stops and shudders, spilling hot, white liquid deep inside you.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt something this intense before—not even with him in the past. Every inch of your body is buzzing as his warmth spreads through you, reaching places you didn’t even know existed. You cling to him, your nails softly grazing his back as he finally lets out a satisfied hum, his lips moving to pepper kisses along your face.

He starts with your left cheek. Two gentle kisses. He moves to your right, giving a light peck that lingers just a moment longer, almost as if he’s blowing a warm breath against your skin. You giggle as the air tickles you. Then finally, he settles on your lips with a sigh that merges into a kiss. It’s soft, sweet, and tenderly slow.

You let out another laugh when he finally pulls away.

“What?”

His curls fall messily on his forehead and you reach up, brushing it back. “You’re starting to grow on me.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “I grow on you?” You simply nod. “Like fungus?”

Your fingers pause in his hair. “Like what?”

"You know, fungus. It grows on things. Like mold or mushrooms,” he explains and gives you a smile. "Am I growing on you like that?"

You’ve been apart for so long that you almost forgot how his brain works. His unexpected comparison sparks your amusement, so you decide to humor him. “Depends on what kind of mushroom you are.”

He looks thoughtful for a while. “There's this mushroom called mycorrhiza. It forms a symbiotic relationship with trees and helps them grow by improving water and nutrient absorption."

“And that makes you what, exactly?”

“Essentially indispensable.”

“So you’re claiming you’re good for me?”

A slow, confident grin spreads across his lips. “I’m saying I’m exactly what you need.”

You burst out laughing. Your cheeks might actually ache from smiling this much. “That was pretty smooth.”

He looks incredibly pleased with himself. Then after a quiet moment, he buries his face in the curve of your neck. You close your eyes, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against yours, and a sigh escapes your lips. It’s like all the time you spent apart melts away in that single breath, and something inside you relaxes, as if he’s managed to sneak back into the parts of you you’d forgotten existed.

Maybe he is right. Maybe, after all this time, he’s exactly what you need.

You wake up to the sound of clatter. It’s loud, jarring, and it echoes around the house. You stir in bed, stretching your limbs before tensing when you feel something poking your back. Your hazy mind immediately snaps into alert, and you open your eyes fully, glancing toward the window. Sunlight is already pouring into the room, far too bright for how early you thought it was.

You quickly turn over to the other side.

“Spencer. Spencer!” you hiss, shaking his shoulders urgently. “Wake up! We overslept!”

He groans softly but doesn’t move. Another loud clatter bounces off the walls, and your heart pounds wildly in your chest.

“Spencer,” you whisper sharply, eyes widening. “I think Matt is home.”

That finally gets his attention. He blinks his eyes open. “Wha—?”

You’re already halfway out of bed, rushing to the window to peek through the curtains. Sure enough, you spot your brother’s car parked in the driveway. “Yep, he’s here,” you mutter under your breath, the panic rising as you turn back to Spencer. “And now he’s going to kill us.”

“He’s not going to kill us,” he mumbles, but even by his voice, you can tell he’s not entirely convinced. You watch as he finally slips out of bed, scrambling to pick up his clothes scattered across the floor. “We talked about this last night. It’s not going to be as bad as you think.”

You shoot him a look before quickly pulling on your own clothes.

“There’s a big difference between telling him, and him finding out that his sister is sleeping with his friend while he was away taking care of his wife and baby.” You yank your shirt over your head. “In his freaking house.”

When you put it that way, Spencer’s heart sinks a little. Although Matt isn’t a violent person, he has twice the muscle he does, and it’s not hard to imagine him being a lot less forgiving in a situation like this. He can’t help but picture the worst-case scenario even though Matt’s always been the reasonable type.

Until now, maybe.

“Do you think I should climb out the window?”

You stare at him in disbelief. "Spencer, you’re not sixteen.”

“Actually, I’ve never been in a situation like this,” he admits, pulling up his pants. “My biggest concern when I was sixteen was getting my first PhD.”

You forgot how ridiculously smart he is. Smarter than most people, definitely smarter than you. “Well now you’re getting firsthand experience.” You start pacing around the room. “Let’s just try to stay calm.”

“That’s kind of hard to do when your brother could walk in while I’m half-naked.”

You look at him in horror. “Then put your damn shirt on!"

Before he can reply, there's a noise from outside the room—a quick shuffle of steps, light and rapid, as if someone’s rushing down the hall. You barely have time to react before the door is wrenched open.

But it's not your brother.

It's far worse.

You feel your stomach drop when your eyes lands on the small figure of your nephew, standing there with wide eyes. His gaze shifts back and forth—from you, disheveled and clearly flustered, to Spencer, whose bare back is facing the door, still fumbling with his pants. From little Jake's point of view, it must look like the most confusing sight, because he quickly retreats, bolting down the hallway.

“Dad! Help! There’s a strange man in Auntie’s room!”

You don’t know whether to laugh or panic. The fact that Jake didn’t recognize Spencer without his usual suit is almost comical. You glance at him, noticing how his body has tensed, his back straightening in alarm.

“Who was that?” he whispers, turning to you with wide eyes.

"Jake.” You blow a strand of hair that falls across your face. “Who apparently thinks you're an intruder."

The blood seems to drain from his face. “He didn’t recognize me?”

Your eyes flick over his appearance—his wild, tangled hair sticking out in all directions, bare chest still slightly flushed from sleep, and pants barely zipped. “Not when you look like this, no.”

But before he can respond, you hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway, heavier this time.

Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Shit.”

“I should have climbed out the window.”

The idea of him dangling from the window is even more absurd. You glance toward the door. "Okay, wait here. Let me talk to Matt first." Your eyes flicker to his bare chest again, and you let out the most exasperated sigh. "And please, for the love of God, put on your shirt."

You don’t have time to wait for his response as you rush out of the room, quickly closing the door behind you. You take a second to catch your breath, trying to compose yourself, when a noise down the hallway draws your attention. Only then do you notice Matt cautiously advancing towards your way, his back against the wall.

That’s when you spot the gun in his hand.

“Seriously?” you hiss, staring at him in disbelief. “What the hell, Matthew!”

He looks at you, equally surprised. “Jake said there was a strange man in your room!” he replies defensively, tightening his grip on the weapon. “What was I supposed to think?“​

Your eyes shift toward your nephew, who’s peeking around the corner, his little head barely visible as he watches the scene unfold. This is definitely not how you expected your morning to go. A simple, awkward conversation was one thing, but having to disarm your brother while explaining this mess was an entirely different level.

“There’s no intruder, Matt. Put the gun down.”

He looks past you, his eyes zeroing in on the closed bedroom door. “Then who’s in there?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. There’s no easy way to explain this. How do you even start? That Spencer is standing half-naked in the guest room, trying to gather his dignity after being mistaken for an intruder by a six-year-old? You never thought you'd have to introduce Spencer to your brother this way, in his own house, under these chaotic circumstances.

You can feel Matt's eyes boring into you, waiting for an answer. All you can think is how ridiculous this all must look, and how there's no good way to smooth over the fact that, yes, Spencer Reid, his friend slash teammate, is behind the door. And the most absurd part? A part of you is more worried about the look on Matt's face than the fact that he's holding a gun.

“Please don’t be mad.”

You hold your breath as you slowly reach for the doorknob. You push the door open and let out a small, relieved sound when you see Spencer fully dressed, looking almost presentable, except for the wild hair that refuses to settle. He gives you a small nod before stepping out of the room.

“Uncle Spencer?” Jake’s small voice cuts through the tension. Matt’s gaze darts between you two, his jaw tightening as he puts the pieces together. You can see the moment realization hits him full force.

“Reid?” Matt’s voice is incredulous, bordering on betrayed. “What the hell is going on?”

“I can explain,” you say cautiously. “It’s not exactly how it looks.”

“Not exactly how it looks?” Matt echoes, his eyes narrowing at you, then shifting back to Spencer. “You’re in my guest room looking like you just rolled out of bed—”

“Fully clothed now,” Spencer cuts in quickly, which only earns him a frown from Matt.

“Not helping,” you mutter under your breath, shooting Spencer a look before turning back to your brother. “Fine, it’s exactly how it looks like. So… uh, surprise?”

You watch so many emotions flashing in his eyes. Matt’s always been a good brother. Sometimes annoying, but always reliable. He doesn’t usually get angry at you—quite the opposite, actually. He’s calm, level-headed, and more prone to offering advice than raising his voice. But now? The frustration is clear in his eyes.

He’s not mad exactly, but he’s definitely not happy either.

“Surprise?” Matt repeats, his voice flat. His gaze flick back to Spencer, who’s now shifting his weight awkwardly beside you. “This is how you decided to tell me?”

“Okay, it’s not how we planned it, obviously.”

“Clearly,” he deadpans.

You put on the best, innocent-looking face you can muster.

“Maaatttt,” you try again, deciding to use a different approach by being cute this time. “Don’t be so harsh.”

To your relief, it actually works on him, like it usually does whenever you try to charm your way out of trouble. His tough exterior falters because, no matter what, you’re still his baby sister. His face softens for a moment, shoulders dropping as he lets out a sigh.

“I’m not mad, okay? But I am your brother. And you,” he adds, pointing at Spencer. “You’re supposed to be my friend. I feel like I should’ve known about this before… well, before finding you like this.” Your shoulders slumps at his words. “How long has this been going?”

Now that is a tricky question. Explaining that you and Spencer occasionally had sex five years ago definitely isn’t something your brother needs to hear right now—or ever, really. You can almost feel Spencer tense beside you, probably having the same thought.

You clear your throat. “Last night.”

"Last night?" Matt looks at you as if you’re crazy. It might be the most disapproving look he’s ever given to you. "You're telling me this just started last night?"

"But—" you quickly add, holding up a hand to stop his train of thought. "We’ve been talking for a while, it’s not like it happened out of nowhere. Last night was just the first time we decided to actually do something about it."

“Right under my roof?” Matt’s brows pinches upward. “You lied about having a headache, didn’t you?”

“Wait, you had a headache? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You’re not sure you can handle two men pestering you at the same time. You focus on your brother instead.

“Look, we didn’t plan anything yesterday. Things just… happened,” you say, trying to explain without making it sound worse than it already does. “But it’s not only about last night. For what it’s worth, we were planning to tell to you. Just not like this.”

Your brother cocks an eyebrow. “So this isn’t a one-time thing?”

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. “God, no,” he says. You feel an arm snake around your waist. “I care about her. A lot.”

Matt stares at Spencer for a long moment, his face a mixture of frustration, concern, and something else. Acceptance, maybe. He looks back at you. “Is this what you want?”

You feel Spencer’s grip tighten on your waist. He’s also waiting for your answer.

“It’s what I want.”

Spencer’s thumb brushes over you as Matt lets out a long breath, his grip on the gun finally relaxing. “This feels weird.”

“In a good way?”

“In a bizarre kind of way.” Matt’s falls falls on Spencer again. “I’m still trying to process this, but if you hurt her—”

“I won’t,” Spencer promises. “I swear.”

“Good, because you know I can put you back to prison if you do.”

Oh, he knows. Spencer understands exactly what he means, after all, Matt was one of the few people who helped clear his name during one of the most horrific moments of his life. Even if there’s a slight jab in his words, Spencer can tell he’s being dead serious. Especially with that gun still attached to his grip.

You, on the other hand, are hearing this for the first time. “Wait, what?” you blurt out. “Prison? You went to prison?”

Spencer merely shrug. Matt finally lowers his weapon, shaking his head as if he can’t quite believe this is happening. “I need coffee,” he mutters, turning toward the kitchen.

“Wait…” Jake finally peeks out from behind the wall. You blink your eyes, forgetting he’s even there. “Does this mean Uncle Spencer is your boyfriend now?”

You feel three pair of eyes on you. Matt’s gaze is sharp. Spencer’s expression is cautious. And then there’s Jake, looking up at you with the straightforward curiosity only a child can have. To him, things are simple. Either you are, or you aren’t, and in hindsight, it really is a straightforward question. But nothing about this situation has been straightforward.

You look at Spencer for a fraction of a second. You can see the nervous hope reflected in his eyes. Maybe Jake’s question isn’t just his… maybe it’s Spencer’s too.

And sure, maybe it doesn’t have to be so complicated. Maybe it really is as simple as saying—

“Yes.” You can feel your heartbeat in your ears. “I suppose he is.”

If you’ve ever seen Spencer being happy, it pales in comparison to this. His eyes light up, and he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world. A genuine, almost boyish smile spreads across his face as you feel his warmth seep into your skin. There’s so much affection in his gaze it makes your chest tighten. He’s not just happy. He’s beaming.

Matt clears his throat awkwardly. “Come on, kiddo, let’s grab what your mom needs and get back to the hospital.” He glances back at you. “You guys coming?”

You nod absentmindedly. “Sure.”

He throws you both a look. Not hateful, but definitely not warm either. You see him grip his gun from the corner of your eye, more out of habit than necessity, before steering his son away with a firm hand on his shoulders.

“That went better than expected,” Spencer mutters the moment your brother is out of earshot.

“‘It’s not going to be as bad as you think’,” you mock, reciting the words he said to you half an hour ago.

“It wasn’t.”

“Spencer, he held a gun.”

“He thought I was an intruder. I would’ve done the same thing,” he points out, his tone surprisingly calm as he holds you by your waist. “Relax, okay? He’ll come around us. Eventually.”

“You’re awfully optimistic about this.”

“He likes me.”

He does have a point. Matt has always had a soft spot for Spencer, but you’re not sure how far that can go after what just happened. “I think you might have lost a few brownie points today.”

He considers the truth in your words. “Maybe,” he admits with a shrug. “But at least I earned a few with you.”

“Because of the boyfriend thing?” He’s grinning so wide that his eyes practically disappear into crescent moons. You poke the slightest dimple on his cheek. “Don’t act so smug. I’m still trying to process the fact that I’m dating an ex-felon.”

“I was framed,” he explains, and the way he says it so nonchalantly only deepens your confusion. He tries to smooth your frown with a kiss. “I’ll tell you everything on our first date.”

“Who said I’ll go on a date with you?”

“You will,” he simply says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“And what makes you so sure?”

Because he’s always been sure. The man who doubts everything, who overanalyzes every situation, looks at you with a certainty that makes your heart swell. You’ve seen that look before—the one that says he’s considered every possible outcome and decided this is the one that matters most. There’s something magnetic about it, the way he seems to know exactly what he wants, and right now, it’s you.

“Because I’m your mushroom.”

He’s so silly, yet there’s something so perfectly Spencer about it that makes the idea of not going on a date with him feel impossible. You shake your head, unable to suppress your smile.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter, but the warmth in your chest tells you he’s already won your heart.

And you don’t mind him keeping it.

[asterroses]

the dreadwolf pc that is in my head . unmatched really

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: anon request - "Can u make a colby one where him y/n Kat and Sam are live and y/n and Colby are drunk it can be fluff or smut Idc"

Warnings: strong language, alcohol consumption, heavy flirting, sexual innuendos, sexual tension between reader and Colby, drunk actions, fluff with a dash of filth containing fingering, handjob, sensual stuff but hottt

Word count: 4.9k | somewhat edited I don’t really know if I like this one all that much… I might rewrite it after I get more requests out.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

"I can't believe you talked me into doing this." You look at Kat in your mirror as you rummage through your clothes.

She laughs, "Oh come on. There will be alcohol so you can just relax, drink and hang out."

"You had me at alcohol." You laugh and hold your a top, "Hows this?" She tilts her head and purses her lips, "mm. It's cute, but I think you need something different."

"Is that what you're wearing?" You point to her outfit and she nods, "Yes." You hold your hand up, "Hang on."

You walk out to your living room, grabbing a box of clothes that you got sent, "There might be something.." you dump the box, ".. in here."

"Oh yeah. Most definitely." Kat nods with a laugh as she goes through the clothes, "Ooh, this. Definitely this."

Your eyes move over the black, lacey tank top that's in her hands, "A cute skirt or a pair of jeans will make this so much better." She adds and tosses it to you.

You catch it and nod, "I'll try it on."

"Well hurry up, we have to be at Sam and Colby's in the next hour." She lays back, scrolling on her phone as you change.

"Did you say Colby?" You walk out slowly and she smiles up at you, "I did.."

"He's doing this livestream with us?" You fix the tank top so it sits right, "Is this some sort of set up by you and Sam?"

She sits up with a sigh, "You got us." She raises her hands, "I think it'll be fun. Plus we'll be live, so it's not like anything crazy can happen.

You drop your hands and they slam on your thighs, "have you seen your livestreams?"

She holds her hands up, "it wasn't my idea. It was Sam's." You scoff, trying not to laugh, "But you went with it."

"If it makes you feel any better, it'll be just you and me at first. Sam offered for him and Colby to join us once they got back from meeting someone about a place they're going next week. Also. Speaking of. We're going with them."

You groan and turn to look in the mirror, "Fine." You smirk at her in the mirror, "But only because you're going."

"Whatever you say, y/n." She rolls her eyes and laughs, "Now come on. We gotta get going. I tweeted that we'll be on by six and it's almost five thirty."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"Ready?" Kat looks over at you and you fix yourself in the screen of the computer, "Okay, yes now I'm ready."

You lean back in your chair and watch as she starts, waiting for people to join, "Hi guys! How are you?"

"Hey!" You smile and hold up your hand, reading the comments that are starting to flow in, "Oh thanks. Kat actually dressed me tonight. So tell her."

You laugh and look over at her. She smiles, "Yeah, I'll take credit for that because you look.." she licks the tip of her finger and lays it on your arm, "Tsss."

You laugh as she makes a sizzling sound, "I do. I do."

"Alright. So Sam and Colby will be joining us a little later, but for right now. I figured y/n and I could start off with a little game."

"Oh god." You mumble and watch as she puts a bottle of alcohol and two shot glasses on the stand in front of you two, "Oh no." You laugh and look over at her, "What game do you have planned?"

"Just a little.. do or drink." She smirks, "Nothing bad I promise." She pulls out a small box containing cards and opens it, "Alright. You want to go first?"

You sigh, "You know what? I will." You laugh and pull out a card, "Hmm. Okay." You turn to her in your chair and look up at her, "what is one thing.. you dislike about me?"

"Oh gosh." She blinks as she thinks for a moment, "Honestly, I hate the way that you can just roll out of bed and look good."

You smile and bat the air, "Stop it."

She laughs, "I'm serious. You're just that pretty."

"Well thank you." You laugh slightly and motion towards the box, "Pick your poison."

She reaches up, picking one of the cards, "Ooh my god." She giggles and lays the card over her lips. You lean forward, "Oh no. What is it?"

She smirks, "Send 'can't wait to see you' to the last person you texted or drink."

You pull your phone out, and go to your messages, looking at the threads, "The last person I texted was.." you laugh slightly, "Katrina."

"Who is it?" She wheels herself over and leans around to look at your phone, "Oh. You have to. You freaking have to, y/n."

You bite your lip as you tap on Colby's name, Can't wait to see you.

You lean forward after locking your phone and read the comments on the screen, "Sorry guys. That's a secret." You laugh and lean back, looking up at Kat when your phone goes off.

She motions for you to read it and you can't help but laugh, "They said, are you and Kat playing that stupid drinking game?" You shake your head as you type back, maybe, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm excited to see you.

"Y/n. Damn. You're not even drunk yet." Kat looks at you shocked and you shrug, "Oops." You smile and reach up to pull a card, "Name a couple that you think should break up."

Without any hesitation she pours a shot, "I cant pick just one.." she laughs and takes the shot, instantly chasing it with her water, "Oh gross."

She grabs another card and smirks, "Y/n."

You tilt your head, "Kat."

"Out of.. let's say, me, Sam, and Colby, who is your favorite?" She smirks and you sigh, "I know I'm going to hurt feelings with this one.." you pause and look into the camera then back to Kat, "..pour me a shot."

"Are you not going to answer?" She laughs and you shake your head, "No because it'll hurt their feelings when I say you." You laugh and she throws her head back laughing, "Oh my god. That's great."

You read the comments and see that people are debating on whether it's Colby, even from the previous question.

"Oh god." You groan and take your shot, cringing at the taste, "That's so gross."

She leans in, whispering quietly, "We're you going to say Colby?" You smirk and lean back, looking at her as you nod.

"Ha. I know who her favorite is." She says in a sing song-y tone before she laughs, "It's still me."

You laugh and grab a card, "Katrina. Who was the last person that seen you cry?"

"Like, a sad cry or happy cry?" She asks and you shrug, "Just in general I think." She hums, "Probably... Sam, I think. Or you. I'm with you both so much."

"We might as well just live together at this point." You laugh and she nods, "Honestly. Okay.." she grabs a card and clears her throat, "Have you ever been to a strip club?"

"Like working or visiting?" You try to not smile but fail, "I'm joking you guys. Relax. No I haven't ever been to a strip club."

"I can see it." Kat laughs and you gasp, "Hey." She lays a hand on your knee, "If it makes you feel any better you'd definitely have a big client list, and I know who number one would be." She winks and tries not to laugh so she covers her mouth, "I'm sorry."

You laugh, "oh my god. I need more alcohol for this." You get up, "I'm going to get a white claw, do you-"

"Yes." She cuts you off and points, "Please."

You give her a thumbs up, "I'll be right back." You quickly make your way down the steps and into the kitchen. You open the fridge and grab as many white claws as you can carry.

Colby's voice makes you jump, "Thirsty or something?"

"Goddam it, Colby. I didn't hear you guys come in." You laugh slightly and he walks over, offering to help, "I'm heading up there now, I can take some of these for you."

"Okay." You hand him a couple and look up at him, "Thank you." He smirks, "So.. did you mean to text me earl-"

"I have to get back to Kat." You cut him off, "We can talk about this later." You smirk slightly as you walk away and Colby follows you, "Oh we definitely will be talking about a lot later I can guarantee that."

His words make your cheeks red and warm as you walk into the room Sam and Kat are in, "Out of my chair, Golbach."

You kick it and he spins around, "Excuse me?"

You smirk and hand him a drink, "Now move." He laughs and gets up, moving to sit behind Kat in the beanbag chair. Colby next to him, behind you.

You hand Kat her drink and you both crack one open, cheersing before you each take a sip.

"What the hell. You guys are like.. that was so in sync." Sam shakes his head looking between you and Kat.

You laugh, "That's what happens when you're best friends for this long." Kat tilts her drink towards you, "Correct. Okay. Now where were we?"

"My turn to ask you or one of the boys a question." You smirk as you pick up the card, "Ooh. Colby." You spin your chair towards him, hiding the card so he can't see it, "what's the last thing you googled?"

"Oh snap. Um. Can I look?" He asks pulling his phone out and you nod, "Yes, but you have to show us."

His mouth drops slightly before he sighs, "Fine, I have no shame around you guys anyway." He unlocks his phone and laughs, "oh my god. I totally forgot that I even searched this.." he turns his phone around, showing you and Kat, "I googled if dogs can understand me."

Sam laughs loudly, "Are you serious?" He grabs the phone and starts laughing again, "Oh my god, Colby!"

You and Kat are laughing in your chairs and Colby sighs, "It's a valid question, damn." He reaches up between you and Kat, kinda close to you.

You chew on the inside of your lip as you smell his cologne. It's the same one you got him for Christmas a few months ago.

He moves back and sighs, "Alright. Sam. This one is for you." He turns towards Sam, "What is the most embarrassing things you have ever done?"

Sam sighs, "twerking on that cruise."

You and Kat look at each other and laugh, "Oh my god." You look at Sam, "I forgot about that."

Sam chugs some of his drunk, "Yeah, I haven't." He laughs and leans forward, giving Kat a kiss on the cheek as he reaches for a card.

You glance up at the screen, looking at Colby through the camera, and he smiles at you, looking away, "who's it for?"

Sam laughs slightly, "y/n. What's the dirtiest text you ever sent to someone?"

Colby clears his throat, "Yeah, y/n. What's the dirtiest text you've ever sent to someone." He shrugs as he smirks and you lean up, pouring yourself a shot and taking it.

You wash it down with your drink and sigh, "That's for me to know and no one else to find out."

You grab a card, laughing slightly as you look at Kat, "Katrina. If you had to kiss someone who isn't your boyfriend, who would it be?"

She shrugs and laughs slightly, "That's easy."

Sam leans forward, "Oh is it?"

She looks at Sam, laughing as she points to you, "Y/n."

He raises his eyebrows, "Huh. Not where I thought that was going."

"Prove it. Prove it. Prove it." Colby chants quietly behind you guys and you look at him, "Maybe when I'm a little bit more drunk."

He chuckles, "Mhm."

Kat picks up a card, glancing at Sam before taking a deep breath, "y/n. What's your biggest turn off?"

You suck air between your teeth, "Probably insecurity. Like..for example.." you shift around in your seat, "..if I wanted to wear this out to a bar or something, who ever I'm with shouldn't get mad at me for it you know?"

Kat nods, "Oh hell yeah, girl. Like who ever you're with.." she glances to Colby and smirks, "They should know that you're only looking good for them. Not fight with you about it."

"Exactly. Yes." You can feel the alcohol settling in, along with Kat because you're both super giggly.

You pick up a card and read it. You can tell Colby is staring at you, you can feel it.

So you turn to him with a smile, "Colby."

"Y/n." He smiles and tilts his head as he brings his drink up to his lips.

"This is actually an easy one. Take three shots or quit playing." You watch as he nods, "Give me three shots."

One by one, you pour him shots into your shot glass and hand them to him.

"Still got it." He laughs and points, "Hand me a card please." You reach up, grabbing a card and handing it to him.

He leans back, "Kat. What is the biggest secret you kept from your parents growing up?"

She sighs, "oh no." You lean forward, "Oh Katrina. Do tell." You rest your elbow on your knee, chin in your palm and she sighs, "I was somewhere I wasn't supposed to be. I was to be at my friend Lauren's house but we were at a party in some persons basement.. drinking."

You bat the air, "Oh we've all done that."

"Really? You partied when you weren't supposed to?" Colby laughs, "I don't believe that." You roll your eyes and stand up, "Pause. I have to pee."

Kat laughs, "Enjoy your pee."

"You guys are drunk." Sam says, and you can tell he's moving to your chair.

You go to the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror. You take a deep breath, but you can't help but giggle as you think about Colby.

His hand around his drink when it really should be around your neck.

His rings pressing against your skin in all the right ways.

His lips, dragging up and down the skin or your neck.

You bite your lip, laughing slightly as you shake your head, pushing the thoughts out to do your business.

Once you're done, you make your way back to the room and take Sam's spot. You sit down, and they all look at you.

"What?" You ask pointing to your drink. Kat hands it to you and she shakes her head, "Nothing. We were just waiting for you." She laughs and hands you a card.

You read your card to yourself, smirking as you look at Colby, "What is your least favorite thing about me?"

Sam gives a low, "Oooh shit."

"Bold." Kat whispers and you can tell she's secretly cheering you on. She crosses her leg over the other, staring intently between you and Colby, "Well? Colby. Are you going to answer or.."

He smirks and shakes his head, "I'll say it. But I'm not saying it for everyone to hear."

Your heart rate picks up as you perk up, unsure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

"Where's the fun in that?" Sam groans, "Say it. Say it. Say it."

Colby reaches over, grabbing your arm to pull you over to him. You lean into him naturally and he rests his cheek against yours, whispering as quiet as possible, "The only thing I don't like about you, is the fact that you're not mine."

He slowly leans away, smirking at you as you look at him, "Really?"

He nods, "Yeah, it's real annoying, actually."

You look down as you try not to smile, but you fail so you cover it with taking a sip of your drink.

"What did he say?" Kat leans forward, almost falling off her chair but your laughing distracts everyone until Sam yells, "Colby!" He hands him a card, "your turn, brother."

Colby takes it, nodding as he laughs slightly, "this one is for both of the girls."

You and Kat look at each other, "Oh no."

"The girls must take three shots in a row, or quit playing." Colby tosses the card down and looks between you and Kat.

"Give me the glass." You hold your hand out and Colby gently places it in your hand, he still had it from when he took his three.

Sam pours both, you and Kat's shots and you clink the small glasses each time before taking the shots, laughing as you finish the third.

"They're about to be fucked up." Sam laughs and Colby shakes his head, "Yeah, yeah they are." He looks to you, winking as you lean back in the chair, "Kat, you can go."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

At this point, you all are feeling pretty damn good. If you stood up, you feel like you could fall over, but you had no issue moving closer to Colby.

The drunker you got, the more you wanted to be with  him. Next to him. Anything.

Kat and Sam are talking, reading the comments and laughing together as you and Colby have a quiet conversation behind them.

"Did you mean what you texted me earlier?" He whispers leaning in and you nod, "yeah..yeah. I did actually." You look up at him with a smile, "if I'm be-"

"Y/n!" Kat yells your name and you look over at her, "What?!"

She laughs, "Tell them.. tell them about when we went to the mall and that lady who walked into us."

Your eyes go wide, "Oh my god." You start to laugh, "We were walking out of the one store and this lady ran into us, started bitching that we needed to watch where we were going and not even ten seconds later, fucking walks right into the one sign." You laugh with Kat, "Fucking smacks her face and spills her coffee all over her white dress. Ah. It was hilarious."

Colby stares at you, smiling as he admires how pretty you are when you laugh, "She sounds like she deserved it."

You look at him, leaning over as you nod, "Oh yeah. Totally deserved it."

Colby leans in, whispering in your ear, "You know you're so pretty when you laugh." He leans back and smiles at you.

You roll your eyes and lean over, laying a hand on his knee as you support your weight to put your lips next to his ear, "I'd look even prettier under you."

You were way past feeling bold.

He laughs slightly, taken aback by what you said, "Really?"

He spoke loud enough to catch Sam and Kat's attention and he looks up at them. You look up at them and start laughing, "Oh my god."

"Wanna share with the rest of the class?" Sam laughs and you shake your head, "No not really."

Colby leans over, resting his head on your shoulder, "We're just having our own little convo back here so mind ya biz." He laughs and you laugh, resting a hand on his head as you lean into him more.

Colby moves his head up to kiss your neck and you giggle, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Whoooaaaa colbyyyyy!" Sam drags out his yell, "Whoa whoa whoa."

Kat's mouth is open, staring as Colby leans up, "Oh stop it. How can you not look at her."

"Colby." You lean over, "You're drunk."

He leans in, close to your face, "So are you."

"So are we." Kat laughs as she leans forward, resting her head on Sam's leg, "This is so much fun though." She sits up, "We should play a game. Just one more game."

"Ooh, I'm down for another game." You bite your lip and nod, "Whatcha got in mind?"

"Most likely? The person that everyone votes. Drinks." Kat smirks, "Please."

"Only because you're so pretty." Sam reaches over squeezing her chin and she smiles, "Alright. Sam you start."

He chuckles, "Alright.. uhh.. let's see.." he snaps, "who's most likely to accidentally find a portal to another dimension?"

Instantly everyone points to Sam, laughing.

"Wh- oh come on." He groans, "Why me?"

"Because you're always going off on your own when we're doing investigations, Sam." Colby laughs and Sam sighs, taking the shot from Kat, "I walked into that one."

"Yeah, just like you will a portal." You mumble and fall over onto Colby's lap as you laugh.

Sam glares at you and Kat pats his leg, "She said what we're all thinking." She sighs, "Okay. I'll go." She leans back in her chair, "Who's most likely to get a random tattoo on a night out?"

Colby points to you while the rest of you point to him and he scoffs, "What the hell?"

"I honestly think I would, so I'll take a shot with you." You smile and take the glass, holding it up for Kat to pour you and Colby a shot.

He smiles, "Aw how sweet of you."

"You have no idea." You mumble as you cheers him, taking the shot like nothing, "Alright. I'll go." You set your glass down, biting your lip as you think.

You laugh slightly as you sigh, "Who's most likely to have handcuffs in the bedroom." You raise your eyebrows and smirk, "one.. two.. three."

You and Sam point to Colby and Kat and Colby point to Sam.

Sam and Colby look at each other and start laughing. Kat turns to you, "They have matching ones." You look at Colby, "Do you?"

He shrugs, "Maybe." His eyes move to you as his bottom lip pulls between his teeth. You raise an eyebrow, "Mm."

Colby leans back, "Who's most likely to lose their clothes on a night out?" His eyes move to you and everyone is pointing to you.

"Huh!? Why me?" You point to yourself, "I don't lo-"

"Yes you do. Last weekend you lost your coat and one of your shoes." Kat laughs, "I'm not judging but it would be you."

You laugh, "Okay. Okay. That- it was a coat and a shoe." You argue, "But fine. I'll take it."

"When you lose it here at least you'll know where to find it." Sam mumbles and you about spit out your shot, "Shut it, Golbach."

He laughs and shrugs, nodding to Colby, "I'm just saying."

Kat looks at the screen and taps Sam, "They want to know what you said."

"No." You say quickly, "It's fine." You laugh and rest your head back, "who's most likely to have a new ghost up their ass each week." You lift your head and look at Sam, "Hmm?"

"That is so.. that's so not true." He huffs, trying not to laugh. You tilt your head, "Oh yeah? Then why does everyone you do an investigation with say you're the one they'll go for?"

"You know what?" Sam sets his drink down on the desk and turns, staring at you while Colby and Kat are dying with laughter over you and Sam arguing, "Who's most likely to.." he pauses, trying to think of something, but just sighs, "I got nothing."

"Ha! Suck it." You laugh and sigh, "I need to lay down. Those shots are kicking my ass." You stand up, holding onto the back of Kat's chair, "Goodnight party people, y/n is tapping out."

"Night!" Kat yells before yawning, "Yeah I might.. I might be done too."

You walk out, hoping Colby follows you, but you can still hear him talking to Sam and Kat.

You bite your lip, making your way into his room, shutting the door quickly behind you. You turn, eyes scanning over his room as you walk over to his bed, unbuttoning your jeans.

You walk over to his dresser, grabbing one of his shirts and walking over to the bed. You toss it down, stripping down to just your panties before sliding his shirt over your head.

You move the blankets, sitting down and swinging your legs onto the bed before covering up. You move around, getting comfy before you take a selfie and send it to Colby.

You lay your phone down, turning away from the door as you hear footsteps coming closer. His door opens quietly and you bite your lip, not moving.

You feel the bed dip down next to you and you feel a hand lay on your waist, "Whatcha doin' in here, pretty girl?"

You slowly roll over onto your back, "Your bed is comfier than the one in the guest room."

"Is that so?" He brushes hair from your face, "You can sleep here anytime you want."

"I plan on it." You smile as you giggle and he tilts his head, "Yeah?"

You nod, "Oh yeah." You lay a hand on his, slowly dragging it up and down his arm, "So you really weren't the last person I texted.."

He furrows his brows, "Huh?"

"Kat was the last person I texted, but I wanted to text you so I just said you were." You look up at him and he smirks, "you're so pretty."

His thumb brushes against your cheek, "What made you change your mind?"

You let out a sigh, "I'm happy when I think about you. When I'm with you. Talking about you." You shrug, "You make me happy. I was just too stu-"

He cuts you off with his lips on yours.

He leans back slightly, "You're not stupid."

You laugh slightly, "If I wasn't we would have been to-"

"Don't. You had your reasons and now we're here." He turns your head to look at him, "Drunk in my bed.." he kisses your cheek, "Speaking those sober thoughts."

You laugh slightly, laying a hand on his cheek, "Mhm."

He turns his head, kissing the palm of your hand, "You have no idea how many times I've wanted to just come pick you up and bring you to my bed."

You bite your lip, "really?"

"Not even for sex or anything.. I mean, yeah.." he laughs slightly, "I've thought about you in so many ways, but mainly just to be with you. Holding you." His hand slides down your body, slipping under the covers, "Tell me to stop and I will."

"Don't." You say quickly and spread your legs, "Please don't."

He leans in, kissing down your neck, "Tell me what you want, babe."

"You." You whisper and look up at him, "I want you."

He slips his hand into the band of your panties, "I've dreamed of hearing those words."

You whimper slightly as his fingers press down to your clit, "Colby.." you moan quietly as he draws small circles.

"You're all I think about." He gently bites down on your jaw, "I swear, you've taken over my life but in the best way."

You turn your head, crashing your lips onto his, making out slow as he slowly slides his fingers down, dipping them inside of you

You dig your nails into his arm, arching your back as you pull yourself closer to him. You slip your hand down and slip them into his sweats.

He groans lowly as you stroke him, “That feel good?” His voice is low against your lips, “Tell me.”

“So, so good, Colby.” You squeeze his fingers, whimpering as you feel yourself growing closer to the edge, “Fuck..”

“Your sounds are so beautiful.” He leans back, moaning as you swipe your thumb over the head of his cock, watching as your face scrunches and your eyes flutter shut.

“I-I need you..” you whimper, squeezing your hand around his cock, “Please.”

“Let’s just take it slow, babe. We’ll get to that.” He kisses your lips, “I promise.”

You nod, tilting your head back as you moan, “Fuck, fuck.”

“Cum for me, pretty girl.” Colby rests his forehead against your temple, “You’re so close.”

You turn your head, looking over at him. He presses his lips to yours, moaning against them as you continue to slowly stroke his cock, “C-Colby.”

“All about you baby. I’m okay.” He speeds the thrusts of his fingers up, watching as you squirm under him, “Come on, pretty girl. You can do it.”

His words egged you to cum more, “Fuck.” You whimper and the knot that’s been working in your belly snaps.

You gasp, arching your back as your thighs squeeze his arm, “Shit, shit, shit.”

“That’s it, baby girl. That’s it.” Colby whispers as he peppers your face with kisses, slowly pulling his fingers out.

He brings them up to his lips, licking them off with a groan while you watch in awe. He reaches down, slipping your hand from his sweats and lays next to you, pulling you into him.

Your body fit perfectly into his, like you were made for him.

“I just want to lay with you.” He whispers as he twirls your hair, “We can get to that other stuff later.”

You weren’t going to argue with him. You’re just glad you’re there.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Hi hello sorry for the late update. I’ve been super sick lately. I hope you enjoy this!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[rufflebuttercup]

romance analysis unit | spencer reid

summary: you like spencer. spencer likes you. somehow, you're the only ones on the team who can't see it - and that calls for some BAU intervention.

a/n: i had a bit of an impulsive moment and decided to delete my old blog (vintagecarat) because i wanted a redo, so if you've seen a variation of this fic before, it’s not been stolen - i promise! this is my favourite x reader i've ever written, so i had to rewrite it, of course!

enjoy the fic, and have a fantastic day! <3 requests are open!

note(s): gn!reader & no pronouns used, mention of alcohol, mention of canon-typical violence, reader gets hurt, mentions of blood, one bed trope

word count: 5,173

One year, seven months and sixteen days. That's how long it had been since you'd started working at the BAU.

One year, seven months and nine days. That's how long it had been since you'd realized that you had a sickeningly huge crush on Spencer Reid.

It had been a long time since you'd had a crush. The last time had been in elementary school, and you'd been convinced that you were in love with the boy who sat two seats to the left of you in class. He’d gone on to marry your best friend and leave you with a broken heart. In hindsight, though, you were only five.

You'd fallen for people before, and you'd had a string of partners in the past, but it had been such a long time since you'd felt the way you did when you looked at Spencer. Seeing him smile made your heart thud erratically in your chest. Hearing him ramble made you smile in the giddiest and most euphoric way possible. Feeling his fingers brush against yours whenever he handed you your morning coffee made your brain turn to mush and left you unable to form a coherent sentence for at least ten minutes. You were trying your hardest to break that last habit, though.

Your crush on Spencer quickly became a topic that you knew you wanted to keep a secret from the rest of the team. The last thing you needed was all of your progress as the newest team member to be weighed down by a crush that made you blush and giggle like a child.

During a particularly wild night out with the team, though, your plan to keep your crush on Spencer a secret went flying out of the nearest window, along with any shred of dignity you had remaining after drinking one too many shots. It had been a miracle that Spencer hadn't been there at the exact moment the words spouted from your lips. At least you had your drunk self to thank for something, you supposed.

Penelope had been the first one you'd told. Definitely a foolish move on your part, but you were too drunk in the moment to make any logical decisions. Emily and JJ had gone to the bar to get more drinks - "another round of shots", Emily had screamed before dragging JJ away - leaving you and Penelope alone to guard the table in the corner. She was the one who'd brought up the conversation, and naturally, you'd followed along without a care in the world. If there was anything good to come of the situation, then it was the look on Penelope’s face. You wished you’d taken a picture of her expression as the words tumbled from your mouth.

Penelope couldn’t keep a secret to save her life, and once she knew, it was only a matter of time before Emily and JJ knew. She’d screamed so loudly that you’d almost gotten kicked out of the bar for causing a disturbance.

"Place your bets," Emily had shouted over the pounding bass music, slamming a twenty-dollar bill onto the table, "How long until Garcia tells Morgan?"

It barely even took an hour. Emily ended up winning her own bet.

Derek had practically cornered you at your desk the next time he saw you in the bullpen, failing miserably to hide the smirk on his face as he showed you his phone and the babbling, completely unintelligible, texts from Penelope.

With the alcohol out of your system and the devastating hangover a painful memory, you wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow you whole. Maybe you could quit, or request a transfer, or simply disappear to the other side of the country and become a recluse in the wilderness. Wishful thinking, of course.

From that moment on, you noticed that the rest of the team was messing with you. You didn’t have any proof, but you were sure of it. You’d enter the conference room to find that the only seat remaining was next to Spencer. You’d find yourself paired up with Spencer more often during cases. You and Spencer would frequently be the last two members left in the bullpen at the end of the day. 

It wasn't as if you particularly minded. You and Spencer were best friends. You had been from the moment you'd walked into the bullpen on your first day and immediately made a comment about the book he was reading. You were used to being around him more often than not, but it was a lot harder to act as if nothing had changed when you were on edge 90% of the time. You were always wondering if he knew anything about the crush you had on him, or if someone else was about to blurt out the secret that you were trying so desperately hard to keep hidden. You couldn't bring it up because you'd either out yourself or you'd be forced to have a conversation that you were sure would end in rejection.

It was an endless cycle, and you hated it.

You were in the bullpen with Dave, perched on the edge of your desk as he rattled off his famous carbonara recipe. You’d always wanted to be a better cook, and Dave had promised you that he'd teach you, even though he really didn't want you burning his kitchen down to the ground.

“Okay, so, do you add the cheese and the egg together, or separately?”

“You combine the egg first, and then you add the cheese.”

“Oh. Right. So…”

It was at that moment that Derek decided to sidle over to the conversation, perching himself on your desk beside you with an all-too familiar smirk on his face. 

“Since when have you been interested in learning how to cook?” he gave you a not-so-subtle nudge.

You shot Derek a glare, “Derek. Don't.”

"Unless you were planning a date for pretty boy over there.”

He nodded his head in Spencer's direction, and you couldn't help but follow his eyes. It was automatic. The sight of Spencer pouring pretty much the entire jar of sugar into his coffee made you smile, but it was definitely an expression you wiped off your face when you heard Derek's laughter.

“I swear to God, Derek…”

“Guys,” JJ interrupted, entering the bullpen with a case file in hand, “We've got a case.”

“Is it bad?”

JJ simply grimaced. 

“Of course it is,” you said with a sigh, hopping off your desk. Derek was still failing to hide his laughter beside you, and you swatted at him, “Shut up, Derek.”

“I didn't do anything.”

“You didn't have to.”

It didn’t surprise you at all to see that the seat beside Spencer was the only one available. As you slid into it, you caught Emily smirking at you from across the table, though she was clearly trying to hide it. You shook your head at her, though you couldn’t stop a tiny smile from ghosting over your lips as you focused your attention onto the case file in your hands.

ꨄ︎

It always seemed as though every case at the BAU was worse than the last one.

You’d all been called to a small town in Wyoming after a frantic call from the police department. Three victims had been found in the town’s frozen lake with anchors tied to their ankles to keep them below the surface. A fourth victim had gone missing, and there was no doubt that she’d end up like the others if she wasn’t found. It was a horrifying fact that everybody knew, but nobody wanted to admit.

It was later, almost 11 pm, and you were no closer to solving the case than you had been when you’d first arrived. It was as if the unsub was always three steps ahead of you, and it was frustratingly annoying. You’d spent a good portion of the afternoon scouring through decade old case files. The lead detective was convinced that it was related to a similar case that had happened in the 1990s. You hadn’t found any striking similarities between the two and you were beginning to wonder if there would be any at all. He was clutching at straws, desperately trying to close the case as quickly as possible. You couldn’t fault him for that.

Just as the words on the case file were beginning to blur into one large amalgamation, a gentle hand landed on your shoulder, “Hey,” JJ said, “We’re all heading to the hotel.”

“You go ahead,” you waved dismissively, stifling a yawn, “I’m going to finish looking over these files, and…”

“Hotch’s orders,” she cut you off, “You need a break. We all do.”

You looked to the doors of the precinct and saw the rest of the team ready to leave, muttering amongst themselves in a tired conversation. Aaron raised his eyebrows, almost expectantly, at you.

“Alright,” you didn’t bother trying to hide another yawn, “I’m coming.”

JJ smiled softly at you, almost dragging you to your feet because of how exhausted you were. It didn’t really feel as if your brain was in control of your body as you padded after her. You’d been so caught up in the details of the case that you hadn’t realized how tired you truly were. The sudden rush of air that hit you as you exited the building made you even drowsier.

“You look exhausted,” Spencer chuckled as he helped you into the SUV with a gentle hand on the small of your back that almost made you combust right then and there, "I've seen you tired, but this is another level."

You simply made a little grunt in response. You didn't have enough energy to come up with one of your usual witty comebacks. You clumsily collapsed into your seat, and you leaned your head back against the headrest as your eyes fluttered shut.

It wasn't too long of a drive to the hotel, but that didn't stop you from catching a quick power nap during the brief moment of peace. You couldn't get Spencer out of your head. Or, more specifically, that hand on the small of your back. He'd never touched you like that before. Ever. It was sending your brain spiraling, to be honest.

“We’re here,” Spencer’s voice filtered into your ear as he gently shook your shoulder,  “Wake up.”

Your eyes snapped open, and you glanced to your left. After a moment, your eyes came back into focus, and it hit you that your head was leaning on Spencer’s shoulder, “Oh,” you quickly sat up, though you almost choked as the seat belt snapped you back against the seat, “Sorry.”

You were so very glad that most of the team weren’t in the same SUV as the two of you because they’d never let you hear the end of it. The only other person was Aaron, and as you caught his eye in the rearview mirror, you could tell that he was trying not to uncharacteristically laugh at you. You did your best to ignore him, which wasn’t exactly easy when your face began to burn with a familiar wave of heat that you’d grown accustomed to.

That chuckle of Spencer’s that you loved so much and made your heart do flip-flops in your chest echoed in your ears, “It’s fine. You clearly needed it. And I do make an excellent pillow.”

You snorted out a laugh, and you gave him a shove as you climbed out of the car beside him, “Shut up.”

The rest of the team were all waiting beside the front desk with their bags as you and Spencer entered. Even though you made sure to look in any other direction, you definitely saw the subtle smirks Derek and Emily were shooting you out of the corner of your eye. 

Aaron finished his hushed conversation with the receptionist, and with a curt nod, he moved back over to the rest of the team with key cards in his hand, “They don’t have enough rooms for all of us. Looks like we’re doubling up.”

If Spencer noticed the subtle smirks and side glances from the rest of the team, he never mentioned them.

Instead, he nudged your shoulder, “We’re sharing, right?”

“Of course, we’re sharing. I wouldn’t expect anything less,” you took the key card Aaron was holding out to you, and you couldn’t help but notice his lips twitching up into a tiny little-half smirk. You brushed it off, though, “I’m sleeping on the bed nearest the window this time.”

“That’s not fair,” Spencer followed you as you made your way to the elevator, “I like sleeping near the window.”

“No. Not happening. You slept near the window last time.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as the elevator shot up to your designated floor. Your eyes wandered around the small space, and you found yourself looking anywhere other than at Spencer. You weren’t an anxious person, and it wasn’t as if being alone with Spencer was a new thing to you, but your mind was racing. All because of that one small gesture. His hand on the small of your back. You couldn’t stop thinking about it, and you wished you could because it was making your cheeks burn.

“Even the elevators are fancy,” you muttered, casting a quick glance around the elevator’s plush and yet miniscule interior, “For a small town, they sure do have nice hotels.”

Things really were dire when you started making small talk. You were the type of person who could make a mountain out of a molehill with how much you talked. You almost rivaled Spencer with how much you could babble on. Small talk wasn’t your thing at all.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Hm?”

“You hate small talk,” Spencer said, and you bit back a laugh at that. It was as if you and Spencer were on the same wavelength sometimes, “And you’re picking at the hole in your sweater. You only ever do that when you’ve got something on your mind.”

You immediately glanced down at your hands, dropping them from your sweater as if it burned. You hadn’t even realized you’d been picking at the hole until Spencer mentioned it. You hadn’t even realized that there was a hole at all. Your bottom lip jutted out in a quick pout, “I love this sweater.”

Spencer chuckled at that, “So,” he continued, “You’re clearly nervous about something. And it’s not the case, because cases never make you nervous.”

“Really?” you said, a hint of laughter creeping into your tone, “You’re analyzing me?”

The elevator reached your floor, and the doors opened with a loud ding, “I’m not analyzing,” Spencer stepped out, “I’m simply making an astute observation.”

“Okay, well stop astutely observing me,” you followed after him, “Don’t worry. I’m fine. You know I’d tell you, “ it wasn’t necessarily a lie. Maybe you’d tell him. Eventually. 

Spencer glanced back at you briefly as if he didn’t believe a word coming out of your mouth, but he never said anything. Instead, he took the keycard from you and held it against the lock, waiting for the light to turn green before pushing open the door, “Oh.”

“What?” you sidestepped around him, “Oh.”

There was only one bed. Sure, it was a double, but it was still tiny. It was in that moment that you decided perhaps becoming an unsub wouldn’t be a lost cause. 

“I’ll take the couch.”

“I can sleep on the couch.”

You and Spencer finished your sentences at the same time, and you turned to look at each other. As soon as you locked eyes, you both started to laugh at the stupidity of the situation. 

“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.”

“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch either,” you argued, “It’ll kill your back, Spence. You’re way too tall.”

“It’s not fair on you, though. You’ll…” Spencer was about to argue some more, but he stopped when he saw the look on your face. Spencer couldn’t argue his way out of a wet paper bag - when it came to you, at least.

“Look, Spence. It’s fine,” you dropped your bag onto the couch before he could protest, “There. Easy. No harm done.”

Spencer frowned, but he reluctantly put his own bag on the bed, “Fine. We’re swapping tomorrow night, though,” he told you, almost ordering you, “You’re not sleeping on the couch the entire time we’re here.”

“Deal,” your lips curled up into a smile, and you sat down on the couch, “See. I told you I’d be sleeping near the window.”

Spencer laughed at that. 

ꨄ︎

From your space on the couch, you could faintly see the glowing green alarm clock that sat on the bedside table. A strange commodity for a hotel room. It almost looked alien. 

2:32 a.m. 

You couldn’t sleep. You had a bad enough sleep schedule at the best of times, but the injury on your side was making things worse. It still burned, and if you gently put pressure on the area, you could still feel the deep wound through the layers of bandages. 

You were almost three days into the case, and you’d finally had a solid lead. It had taken a lot of digging, but Penelope had discovered the unsub’s hunting ground; an old speakeasy hidden so deep in the town that nobody had been able to trace it. Since you were the closest in victimology, you’d agreed to go undercover to catch the unsub once and for all. All you’d ended up with was a knife embedded deep into your side as the unsub escaped once again.

You’d been in the hospital for hours after that. The knife had gone in so deep that it was close to catching something vital, and the doctors had told you that you were lucky to be alive. You’d spent most of that afternoon in a hospital bed, listening to the monotonous sound of beeping machines. After a concerned lecture from Aaron - he’d told you not to follow the unsub but you hadn’t exactly listened - you were bandaged up and sent on your way.

Spencer had told you to take the bed. He’d almost forced you into it at one point. But you’d seen the way he’d tried to discreetly stretch out his cramp throughout the day, and you were far too stubborn, so you refused his offer and tried to sleep on the couch for the night. It wasn’t working, though. 

You huffed in pain, shifting uncomfortably in the hopes of finding a better position to sleep in. Every movement made your bandages rub against the wounded area. You finally thought you found a comfortable enough position and you tried to settle down, but then you felt a dampness seeping through your bandages, and you cursed under your breath.

“No, no, no,” you muttered, pulling your shirt up and surveying your body. Even in the darkness, you could see the dark spot where the blood had begun to soak through, “Goddamnit.” 

You pushed yourself off the couch and tip-toed across the room. You didn’t want to wake Spencer, especially not in your current state. You kept a hand tightly pressed against your side as you slowly moved. You didn’t want to get blood on the carpet. The staff seemed lovely, and you didn’t want to ruin their day with your mess. Every single step made you wince as a sharp pain shot straight through your body, and your breaths came out as sharp little puffs of air. 

A muffled noise from the bed caught your attention, and you saw Spencer begin to stir. He gently mumbled your name as he sat up and stared at you with bleary eyes, “What are you doing?” he looked you up and down, and then his eyes settled on the blood, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you told him, though you clearly weren’t, “I think the stitches came undone or something. It’s fine,” you tried to wave his worries off, “Go back to sleep.”

Spencer did the opposite. He clambered out of bed and turned on the light, lighting up the room so that you could both see each other clearly. Your heart started to thud a little faster when you saw that the shirt he was wearing to sleep in was a little undone towards the top. You’d never noticed that before. 

“You’re not fine,” his eyes were laser focused on the blood as he took a step closer to you, “You’re bleeding.”

“Good observation skills, Spencer,” you laughed a little, though you grunted in pain as it aggravated the injury, “I told you, it’s fine. I’ll redress it, and…” you paused when you saw the look in his eyes. It was a look he’d never given you before, and it stole your breath for a moment. 

“Let me see.”

“Spencer...”

“It’s obviously hurting you,” his sentence was almost demanding, and yet there was a soft and concerning tone to his voice, too, “Let me see it.”

You sighed. There was no way you could refuse when he spoke to you with that tone of voice. You gingerly lifted your shirt high enough for him to see it, “It looks worse than it is.”

Spencer gently pulled away the loose bandages and inspected the open wound, his eyes never leaving your body, “Doesn’t matter,” he muttered, “You’re not redressing it yourself, and you’re certainly not stitching yourself back up.”

You barely had a chance to respond before Spencer had darted into the bathroom, and he came out moments later with a roll of bandages the hospital had given you. 

“Here. Sit,” he sat back down on the bed, and he patted the space beside him, “You’ll have to go back to hospital tomorrow. I’ll help you rebandage it for tonight,” his eyes darted between your own eyes and the blood that seemed to be pooling on your side, “Please.”

You hesitated for a moment, “Spencer…” there was no point in arguing with him, you knew that, and your wound hurt the longer it was left open, “Fine.”

You sat down beside Spencer, curling your legs up under you as you turned your back to him. Your hands gripped the hem of your shirt, holding it up high enough so that it wasn’t dangling in the way. This wasn’t the first time that Spencer had patched you up after an injury in the field, but this was the first time where you were definitely feeling a little light-headed. 

“Ow.”

“Sorry,” Spencer’s voice was a gentle whisper against your ear. You hadn’t even realized that he was practically leaning his head on your shoulder, “Sorry.”

Spencer’s hands were so gentle on your skin that it was almost as if he wasn’t even touching you at all. The only indication that he was even helping you was the bandages around your torso since he wrapped them so tightly that they felt like a strangely comforting hug. 

“There,” Spencer said, almost proudly, and he gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Done.”

You glanced down at your body before dropping your shirt. The wound didn’t even seem to hurt any more. You became very aware very quickly that Spencer’s hands hadn’t left your hips, “Thank you.”

You shuffled around until you were facing him, and when your eyes locked, it suddenly felt as if time had come to a standstill. That look was back in his eyes; the one that you’d never seen before that made you feel as though you were melting on the inside. You weren’t entirely sure what was racing faster; your heart or your mind. 

And suddenly, before you could really comprehend your actions, your lips were on his. Your body acted before your brain could catch up. Your hands tugged slightly on the collar of his shirt as if you were trying to pull him closer to you. The kiss was tender, and yet it was so full of obvious desire. Warmth flooded your entire body as your stomach seemed to explode with swarms of butterflies. This was a moment you’d thought about for a long time, and once your brain caught up, you couldn’t quite comprehend that it was happening.

It may have only been a few seconds, but it felt like hours. You pulled away, and it was only after you saw the startled expression on Spencer’s face and the faint blush that crept up his neck that you realized what you’d done, “Spence…” your mouth opened and closed, but now words came out for a good few seconds, “Spencer. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

Your panicked babbling was cut off as Spencer pressed a quick kiss to your lips, “Shut up,” he smiled, and he pressed his index fingers where his lips had been moments ago, “Just shut up for a minute.”

If this were any other time, you’d be rather offended that he told you to shut up, and you’d keep talking. In this situation, however, you were happy to keep your mouth shut.

“You didn’t mean to, what? You didn’t mean to kiss me?”

“No. I mean… Yes, but also no, but…”

Spencer raised an eyebrow with a faint smirk, “I thought I told you to shut up.”

You pressed your lips together in a fine line, “Sorry.”

Spencer’s hands left your hips, and he took your hands in his own. He squeezed them gently, and his thumbs began tracing soft little circles onto your palms, “You kissed me.”

You were more than ready for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. Spencer seemed to notice because his grip on your hands got a little tighter as if he knew you’d go run, “I’m glad you kissed me.”

There was no stopping the surprised squeak that escaped your lips, “What?!”

Spencer chuckled at that, and the pink blush had spread up to his cheeks, “I’m glad you kissed me,” he repeated, “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time.”

“You… You…” your mouth was hanging open, and your eyes were wide. You must’ve looked like an absolute idiot, “You have…?”

“Of course, I did.”

This conversation was going in an entirely different direction to how you’d assumed it was. You’d never seen Spencer look or talk with so much affection before. Spencer said your name with so much love in his tone that it snapped you out of your shocked state, “I like you.”

For a single moment in time, it felt as if the world had stopped spinning. You simply stared, unable to do much of anything else except feel a sharp tug at your heart, “You… You do…?”

“Are you capable of putting a sentence together, or not?” Spencer laughed, and he interlaced his fingers with yours, “Yes, I do. A lot, actually,” he smiled at you, and there was a hint of teasing, “I might be a genius, but even the dumbest person in the room could figure you out right now.”

You cracked a smile, and your shocked expression gave way to a relieved and delighted one, “I really like you, too.”

“Do you? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Shut up,” you giggled, and you never giggled. You knew this crush was childish, but this was on another level entirely.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you giggle.”

“I’m not giggling.”

“Oh, you absolutely are. You’ve always been a terrible liar,” Spencer grinned at you, and then his lips connected with yours. 

The kiss seemed more affectionate than earlier, and a lot more passionate. Your hands wound around his neck, and his hands found a comfortable resting place on your waist. Your lips seemed to perfectly fit together like two puzzle pieces. It could’ve been seconds, or it could’ve been minutes. You weren’t entirely sure how long it had been, but you eventually pulled away from each other, and you were both a little breathless from the intensity. Intense was something you never expected from Spencer. You liked it, though.

You let your forehead rest against Spencer’s, “I hate to ruin the mood and everything, but…” your eyes flitted back and forth to the couch, “Does this mean I don’t have to sleep on the couch anymore?”

“Absolutely not,” Spencer pulled you a little closer, “You’re not sleeping on the couch. Especially not now.”

“Good,” you curled into him as he pulled you closer to his side, letting your head rest against his chest with a gentle sigh, “The bed has better company.”

Spencer maneuvered the two of you until you were lying on the bed, and he tucked you that tiny bit closer into him. You’d imagined him hugging you plenty of times, but this felt better than any imagination could. He kissed the top of your head, and he ran a gentle hand up and down your back, “Sure does.”

ꨄ︎

“Penelope Garcia! I’m going to kill you!”

You stormed through the BAU and entered Penelope’s office, slamming the door open with such a bang that it made the walls shudder.

Penelope grinned as she spun around in her chair to face you, “Ah, my sweet angel,” she spoke with a beaming grin on her face, “Do you require my assistance?”

“You little…” you stepped a little closer, but it was hard to look even slightly threatening with a goofy grin on your face that you were trying to hide, “You gave me and Spencer the only room with a single bed?”

“I did no such thing.”

“I spoke to everyone else, Pen. Everyone else had a bed of their own.”

Penelope continued to smirk at you, not even trying to hide her laughter, “It worked, didn’t it? I haven’t seen you as happy as this in weeks.”

You faltered at that. She wasn’t wrong. Ever since you’d gotten back from Wyoming, you’d been happier than anyone had ever seen you. Of course, everyone knew about you and Spencer, and it didn’t take long for the good-natured teasing to pick straight back up, “Yeah. Okay. It worked, but…”

Penelope held up a manicured finger to cut you off, “Besides, my sweet,” she continued, leaning forward in her chair as if she had a secret to tell you, “I was the one who booked the rooms, yes, but I wasn’t the one who handed out the keys, was I?”

Another pause. The words slowly sunk in, and then your mouth dropped open in a mix of shock, humiliation, and a little bit of gratitude, “You… You don’t mean…”

Penelope grinned. She could practically see the gears turning in your head, and it made her laugh, “Oh, I mean exactly what you think I mean, my love.”

“Hotch set us up?!” you didn’t even wait for Penelope’s response. You turned on your heel and marched out of her office, leaving Penelope laughing to herself behind you, “Aaron Hotchner! I’m going to kill you.”

[rafesbabygirlx]

A Lot of Time has Passed |Part 1

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Season 4 Rafe x Maybank reader

Summary: Beginning at the time jump, the Pogues seemingly succeeded at something, Rafe is struggling with making amends and being a better person. JJs sister left the island after returning from South America. Returning after 18 months with a secret.

A/N: Writing this with inspiration from season 4 part 1. Rewriting plot lines. No mention of Y/N but is written in her perspective. Was inspired of Rafe’s new character arc which I love but thought I’d make it a bit more interesting and messy.

Also- you have to imagine that Maybank reader is intertwined in the previous seasons. And was involved with Rafe. She understands him more than Sofia. She is JJs half sister, takes after her mom, brunette brown eyes tanned skin.

Not really proofread

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: smut (fingering) tough discussions, loss of life (Ward, Big John) Rafe can get a little mean, sorry Sofia lovers.

It’s been 18 months since you returned to the island. While you’ve stayed in touch with your half-brother JJ and the rest of the Pogues, you only saw them once in a while since you had made them travel to the mainland. You relished the escape from the chaos of the Outer Banks. Although you maintained a connection with your mother, it wasn’t until you decided to move in with her that you saw her again. You never imagined you’d come back, but hearing about the Pogues’ long-overdue success and newfound wealth drew you back to celebrate.

Once you arrived, you made an effort to keep a low profile. You headed straight to the old house you and JJ used to share. You couldn’t help but feel annoyed at how much he paid for it, but the joy of being back with your little brother overshadowed that irritation. Everything felt just as it had in the past, and you slipped seamlessly into your role as their ‘older sister.’

You found yourself speaking with Sarah down by the docks, where she asked how you were doing and how things were going—just the usual small talk. Then came the question you dreaded: “Have you seen him?” You stared out at the water, trying to push thoughts of him aside while enjoying your time with the Pogues. Subconsciously, you gripped your gold necklace by its 2 charms, one a ‘V’ initial and the other a baby rattle as you replied, “No, I haven’t, and I’m hoping to keep it that way.”

You hadn’t planned to stay long, just a week or two at most, with hopes of hanging out in the Cut, grabbing some groceries, and indulging in shopping at boutiques you never go to do before. You wanted to avoid anything that might draw attention to you. Living with your mom—who was now clean and remarried—had been a breath of fresh air. She shielded you from worry, allowing you to focus on taking care of what you needed to and building a decent savings while working a stable job, free from the burdens your father had imposed.

After chatting a bit more, you hugged Sarah and rejoined the group. They were deep in conversation about a bike race happening the next day. Glancing at JJ's bike in the yard, you felt a mix of confusion and admiration for his confidence. Although you hadn’t planned to join them for obvious reasons, he managed to convince you to come along. With such a big crowd, you thought you could easily blend in and suppress the anxious flutter in your chest at the thought of running into Rafe. Confident, yet now he’s all you can think about.

————————————

The last time you saw him was when you returned home from South America. While you were glad to see him, you dreaded the conversation about his father. After leaving the group at the airport, you headed to Tannyhill. As you entered, he greeted you with a warm hug, lifting you off your feet and showering you with kisses. He set you down, his face bright with a smile, contrasting sharply with the sadness that clouded your own.

Before you set out for South America to help John B with his dad, Rafe had stopped you just before boarding the plane. He promised he’d be a better person for you and wanted you to return from the trip to him. With that, he slipped one of his silver rings onto your finger and kissed you, giving a nod that it was okay to go.

There was always a powerful connection between you two, despite the class divide and his intense disdain for Pogues. You were the exception. Everyone adored you—both Pogues and Kooks alike—especially when you worked as the favorite bartender at the Country Club. You and Rafe bonded over the absence of your mothers and the shortcomings of your fathers. It was a match made in an unlikely paradise.

Though you were never officially together, largely due to his ego, you often went out publicly. Despite JJ and the group’s disdain, you convinced them—and yourself—that it meant nothing, even though deep down, you knew it did. The same could be said for Rafe with Topper and Kelce. No matter what happened, you both struggled to fully pull away from each other. Until that night.

You led Rate to the living room of Tannyhill and gently broke the news of his father's death. The color drained from his face, and his breathing grew rapid and heavy. In an attempt to console him, you placed your hand, adorned with his ring, on his arm, but he abruptly yanked it away and stood up, clearly overwhelmed. Before you could fully explain the circumstances surrounding the tragedy, Rafe erupted in anger. "This is what happens when people get close to someone like John B! Pogues are nothing but worthless pieces of shit, I trusted you all with him!" He lashed out, placing the blame on them as if Ward's insatiable greed hadn't played a role in his decisions. It was bewildering that he believed any of us wanted his father there in the first place. This wasn't any of ours fault.

"Rafe..." you pleaded, desperation lacing your voice. "I don't want to hear it! I can't even look at you right now. All those things I said to you, and you let this happen?! You got my father killed?!" His voice thundered with rage, his eyes dark and wild, veins bulging in his neck.

"You really think we wanted this? John B lost his dad too, you know that?! This was NEVER supposed to happen. I'm so sorry." But Rafe didn't want to hear your apology. "Get away from me! Don't come back! I never want to see you again," he shouted, the finality of his words slicing through you. You felt the tears streaming down your face, sorrow intertwined with disbelief. How could he say this after all the loving promises he had made before leaving? You sat in stunned silence for a moment, then carefully slid the ring off your finger and placed it on the coffee table. With a heavy heart, you turned and walked out of Tannyhill. Rafe didn't even glance back; he couldn't. Deep down, he knew he didn't mean any of it, but his anger always got the best of him.

————————————

As you emerged from your thoughts, everyone decided to head inside for the night, giving JJ some much-needed rest before the race the next day. You settled into your old bed, replacing the dust-covered sheets, and despite the whirlwind of emotions flooding your mind about being back, sleep quickly overtook you. Before long, JJ was shaking you awake, urging you to hurry and get ready.

When you arrived at the racecourse, you kept your distance from the group, sticking close to Cleo to avoid any potential confrontations.

JJ understood what was going on without needing to ask, and he respected your space; having you there, after all this time, was what mattered most to him. It was a relief, allowing you to watch from afar as Rafe interacted with Topper, their tension palpable from a distance.

As the race began, excitement surged through you. Ju took the lead, but then Rafe unexpectedly tapped him, sending both of them flipping over their bikes, igniting a chorus of cheers from the crowd.

Once the race concluded, you made your way towards the group. Topper walked by, not being able to help gloat saying something to Sarah. He then caught your eye, a smug smile on his face, but he chose not to say anything, merely walking away while shaking his head. You refused to let it bother you; Topper's opinions meant nothing, yet you knew that this would undoubtedly reach Rafe, and you hoped to slip away before that happened-at least, that was what you hoped.

As the crowd began to thin out, you felt exposed among the remaining Pogues and Kooks. Seeking a bit of refuge, you decided to head towards the shack that stored drinks and equipment for the track, needing a breather from the charged atmosphere. Just as you turned to leave, your eyes locked with Rafe's.

Your heart raced as a heavy silence enveloped you, and for a moment, neither of you could look away. In that instant, you noticed Sofia slip her arm through his and plant a kiss on his cheek. Another dark haired, brown eyes Pogue you knew from the cut and worked with the country club. He clearly had a type. She playfully pulled his attention back to her. Seizing the chance, you quickly resumed your path to the shack, desperate to put distance between yourself and the turmoil of emotions that Rafe always seemed to ignite within you.

You stepped into the shack, the sunlight streaming through the windows casting long shadows across the floor. Your heart raced with nervousness, and you weren't sure if you wanted to stay or leave. With your back to the door, you pressed one hand to your chest and the other to your forehead, trying to steady your breathing, when a low voice broke the silence.

"Hi."

You spun around to find Rafe's imposing silhouette framed in the doorway, his tall figure looming over you. "Rafe, please, just go. I don't need this. I'm here for my brother," you insisted, your voice unsteady. He chuckled, stepping further into the room, the warmth of his presence engulfing you.

"I've missed you, Maybank."

"Don't say that to me," you retorted, backing away as he moved closer. Soon, you found yourself pinned between him and the table, his blue eyes piercing through the dim light, sparkling with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. He studied you with an expression that was both longing and mischief, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before gently cupping your face.

It left you bewildered, and you instinctively tried to push him away. "A year and a half ago, you couldn't stand me, and now you're all over me. You can never make up your mind."

A smile crept across Rafe's face. "I could never hate you. I never hated you. I was angry, sure, but I took it out on you-and you never gave me a chance to apologize. You vanished, changed your number, and everyone who knew where you were would never tell me."

"Rafe, please just go," you pleaded, feeling trapped. But before you could protest further, he lifted you effortlessly and set you down on the table.

"I can't stay away from you. Please, let us have this moment," he murmured, his voice low and earnest. He leaned in, inhaling your familiar scent-the coconut and mango shampoo mixed with a hint of jasmine perfume. Then, without warning, he pressed soft kisses against your cheek. You let out a slight moan, unable to suppress the spark of electricity that coursed through you at his touch.

He smiled against your skin, his face inching closer to yours. Then, before you could register the moment, he pulled back slightly to gaze into your eyes once more before crashing his lips against yours. The shock of the kiss momentarily stunned you, but as the reality of what was happening sank in, you found yourself responding, moving your lips against his as if you had been waiting for this moment all along.

His hands began to explore your soft skin, gliding down your arms to intertwine his fingers with yours. You felt the familiar weight of the ring that once adorned your finger. He released your hand, gripping the nape of your neck and pulling you closer as his right hand traced down your torso. You wore a thin, cropped strapless top and a mini skirt. His fingertips teased the upper hem, grazing the tops of your breasts while he moved lower, grasping your waist as if afraid to let you go.

Both of you fought for breath, pulling away to look at each other, laughter escaping your lips. “I’ve been waiting to do this again for so long,” he admitted.

“Do you think your girlfriend would appreciate you saying that to me, Rafe?”

“What?”

“Sofia, the girl outside who kissed you on the cheek?” You sarcastically remind him. “Do you think she’d appreciate this? I may be many things, but I won’t be an accomplice to cheating.”

He sighed, “That means nothing to me. If anything, she’s just a distraction while you were gone. It’s always been you I’m meant to be with. I ruined it and forced myself to move on. And now you’re back.”

You bit your finger, feeling conflicted. “But—” Before you could interrogate him more, he captured your lips in another kiss, drowning out your thoughts. His hands ventured lower, teasing the hem of your skirt. Looking into your eyes for confirmation, you nodded, giving him permission to explore further. He slipped his fingers beneath your clothing, pressing against your core, and groaned as he felt your wetness.

He swirled his fingers before moving to your clit, rubbing in deep, rhythmic motions. You broke the kiss to moan, your head thrown back, exposing your neck and chest. He kissed a trail from behind your ear to the tops of your breasts, and then, with a practiced ease, slid a finger inside you.

You gasped, leaning into the crook of his neck. “That’s a good girl. You can take a little more, right?”

You whimper a soft yes, and he added a second finger, igniting a fevered kiss filled with passion and frustration. Despite your anger, desire overwhelmed you. He pumped in and out quickly, his thumb working your clit, sending you into a frenzy. Your breaths quickened, and you were amazed that no one could hear your moans.

“That’s right, baby. Let me make you feel good. Let me make it up to you. Come for me.”

As waves of pleasure washed over you, your head spun, heart racing. With a gasp, you reached your peak, surrendering completely as he rode out your orgasm, his unoccupied hand brushing your cheek. After a few lingering pumps, he withdrew, licking his fingers clean before adjusting your panties and gazing into your eyes.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said softly. You struggled to find your voice, lost in the moment until the door slammed open, revealing JJ. Rage simmered within you at the thought of a confrontation between him and your brother, but Rafe turned to you. “We’ll talk more another time, baby.”

You smiled and nodded, but as he walked out, JJ turned to you with a look of disgust. “What the hell did he want?”

“Nothing. We were trying to talk before you interrupted,” you replied. “I didn’t know he saw me come in.”

“Are you going to talk to him about her?”

“I don’t know, J.”

---

I hope you like it. My first of many stories. I decided to break it into parts. Stretch it out over the month before part 2 of the season drops.

[al1fers-haven]

Almost Instinctual

Alastor x pregnant!reader

‼️pregnant reader, pregnancy in general, overprotective Alastor, a bit of angst, secret pregnancy‼️

Prompt: In where you, y/n, go to the Hazbin hotel for shelter after splitting up with your previous boyfriend. And try and keep your pregnancy a secret until you find a better solution.

Part 1 (you’re here!), part 2

(I am lazy and am writing this like it’s a bunch of facts and writing specific scenes…I might rewrite when I get my laptop.)

(8 weeks/2 months)

You and your boyfriend had split up about a week ago, afraid you’ll run out of money eventually you decided that instead of staying at a creepy motel with no locks, you’d move to a free-helpful option.

Of course you felt a little bad for abusing the owners kindness, using the Hazbin hotel not for redemption, but instead for shelter and food.

Charlie had welcomed you in with open arms (literally, she squeezed you pretty hard.) and even introduced you to everyone except for two who were out running around hell.

Alastor was explained to you as a creepy, tall deer man who may sound rude but has good intentions.

And Charlie explained angeldust as a ‘work in progress’ and told her a couple stories instead of describing him.

Charlie offered you the job of receptionist, claiming that husker wasn’t exactly good with the socializing aspect of it and you happily accepted. Eyes beaming at the opportunity for a job right infront of you.

(12 weeks/3 months)

You were happily greeted with nausea every morning. The morning sickness now starting to affect you more than ever, you haven’t exactly told anyone about your pregnancy and were hoping to be out of the hotel by the time you started showing.

Now working at the hotel for a bit, you noticed that probably wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

“Are you alright y/n?” Charlie peaked her head into the bathroom; a small frown on her face as you heaved a bit, nodding.

“Yup- I’m just dandy..! Mind getting me a wet towel or something love? I think I ate something bad yesterday…” Charlie let out a little gasp and nodded, running off to god knows where just to get that little thing for you.

You had actually started to get to know the patrons of the hotel more, for example. You learned angeldust was actually the pornstar you had heard about all over social media. And he adored three things.

Making people uncomfortable.

Cocaine.

And candy crush.

Husk had given you a couple of sickness remedies, saying that they would help with stomach bugs. All natural just incase you were allergic and you slowly started to warm up to him.

Charlie and vaggie had grown to be very special to you now. Their opposite personalities absolutely making you giggle everytime you hung out with them or went out for groceries.

Now, Alastor was an odd fellow. He was a bit younger than you since you were hellbotn and all but he seemed to act older than you. Calling you things like ‘dear’, ‘Cher’, or Mon biche.

Mon biche was the most common one, and after looking it up. You realized he was calling you my doe, or just doe 90% of the time.

He definetly knew. Not letting you eat any form of ‘raw meat’ that would go on your plate and even specially making drinks for you so you felt like you could participate in drinking games without suspicion.

Overall, he was a total kitten. A bit emotionally stunted in areas of course..but he never failed to brighten the room.

(Unless he was threatening someone.)

(17 weeks/3.2 months)

You started showing, not visibly with clothing on but you were still showing when you sat down.

Your closet changed a bit, from nice outfits to usually a dress you had gotten or some high waisted sweats, trying to be as comfortable as possible in your state.

Alastor had been…odd.

He had started to let you grab his arm when going up or down the stairs, which usually during conversations he’d just stand at the bottom waiting. And he now seemed like he was constantly watching you.

Husker had done the same. The two animal demons in the hotel knowing because of a certain change in smell, it wasn’t like you didn’t know it was going to happen.

Husker had promoted for just leaving you alone and stopping the mean comments, understanding that pregnant women were a force to be reckoned with. (And you appreciated that. You had been crying earlier that day for the cookie you bought not tasting like blueberry’s.)

You cried a couple times because of angel, which Alastor just stared at you as you sniffled and attempted to keep the conversation going.

You also cried about 2 days ago because Charlie bought you a pretty necklace. It was hell.

Alastor tried to be accommodating in the field of emotional intelligence but…he failed. Making you cry more times than he could count and to be honest he only cared that he did because you were quite literally an angel to everyone.

Husker asked you in private one day if Mr smiles was the daddy to that little hellspawn and all you could do was laugh and blush a bit. Telling husker that he wasn’t and that he was just acting that way because she was a single mother.

Husker didn’t understand that, Alastor never had a soft spot for women her age.

(20 weeks/4 months)

First time you let anyone touch your stomach was during this time period, Alastor did so with adoration almost. Mentioning something about how he always had a soft spot for women with children..

You two had grown a bit closer.

Husker definitely still had his suspicions about you and the baby. He really thinks is alastors with the way he had been acting.

The red demon had gone out of his way several times to get you your weird ass cravings. One day you asked for a bite of his venison and then cried because you weren’t allowed to have it

You found him coming near you more often and asking multiple times to touch your baby bump as it grew, and everytime you let him that little tail of his would wag a bit behind him. Seemingly happy with the little life growing inside you.

He got more protective as well. Way more protective. He was your puppy that followed you around basically.

(He totally got you a bunch of ice cream, or helped you out with foods and sickness with his old man knowledge.)

(25 weeks/5 months)

If you wanna talk about awkward? Everyone in the hotel basically thought you and Alastor were a thing with how weird you two were together.

You would always be caught either straightening his bow tie or dusting off his shoulders. The term doting describing the two of you around one another.

May or may have not let it slip to Charlie that ‘it’s not like that, Alastor has said multiple times he doesn’t want to prey on pregnant women.

She asked to be the godmother.

Alastor hated the thought of that actually when you brought up that Charlie might be a good fit when he was giving you a snack. A nerve you didn’t know he had.

Soon everyone knew you were pregnant and angel was absolutely infatuated with this information. Asking who’s it is and stuff like that.

(7 months)

Alastor and you were practically a thing- he would help you out a lot and in return you’d kiss his cheek or help him out with cooking.

He practically worships the ground you walk on. Foot rubs for when they hurt, running a bath for you. Even going out of his way to compliment your outfits (even if you looked downright awful that day)

He even accompanied you to return the ring your ex gave you. Along with a couple other belongings you had from him.

Alastor may or may have not been seen with you outside , and you were mentioned by Rosie the next time.

(8 months)

Alastor and you had become somewhat official, if letting a dude fall asleep on your pregnant stomach bc he wanted to means official. Then yes( you were.

After you had a talk with Alastor about why he acted the way he did around you he simply said it was almost instinctual to take care of you. Something along the lines of him also being a gentleman.

He had invited you out to cannibal town, where you met Rosie and she was absolutely infatuated with you. Asking you questions and being so lovely towards you. Even going as far as mentioning she had her fair share of labor experience when it came to giving birth!

Alastor was very pleased to hear Rosie would help you- a bit scared she would eat the baby though…

(Part two coming out about nine months and the actual baby?)

[theereina]

Big Mama Pt. 1

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: 1,462

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, no smut (alluding to sexual situations), heavily dialogue-centered, use of Daddy, Mama, and other pet names (lil' mama, pretty girl, etc.)

A/N: I literally haven't written in years. I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

PART 2 => 🦋

"You look like you bite," I said looking at him directly in his eyes. They were a greenish-hazel color that resembled fallen leaves. Nothing about this man's appearance was hard on the eyes. His face, his eyes, his lips, his body, and even his smile were driving me silently insane. His presence was intimidating yet inviting. An aura surrounded this man that demanded attention and took up space.

He stared back at me with a challenge brewing in his eyes. "I do, but only if you want me to. I promise," he said not even hiding his smirk. All I could do was stare at this smug bastard. I knew that he knew the effect he was having on me. If he couldn't see it on my face, the heat from my body was evidence enough. I was getting hotter by the second.

"Mhmm," I said while turning away. I honestly just wanted to see what he would do. I couldn't let this man see me fold this quickly. I wasn't retreating; it's just that I needed a moment to promptly gather myself. I was fucking losing it. We hadn't even spoken three sentences, and I was already struggling to think. I was normally a quick-witted smartass with a lot to say. Everything about this man was short-circuiting my brain, and I didn't like one bit of it.

"Where you going? C'mere, lil' mama," he teased. The way that man's voice had me in a chokehold. It was thick, heavy, and warm like raw honey. All I could do was smile. I paused and turned back to face him. "Why would I come to you when I'm the meal? If you want it, come get it," I said motioning for him to come here. Now, why the fuck did I do that?

"Meal? I'd prefer it if you were dessert. Daddy's got a sweet tooth," he said striding towards me. He was closing in on the space that I was using for comfort. I felt like I was melting in the spot I stood in. I had to think about my next move. I had to do something. I took a breath and relaxed as much as I could before speaking. The last thing I wanted to do was show this man that I was a nervous fucking wreck. "Well, I guess it's a good thing Mama's a baker," I said while winking up at him. At this point, there was no space between us. We were chest to chest, and I could feel every rise and fall between us.

There was no turning back now. The smile that this man wore from what I said had me blushing. I couldn't cover it up even if I tried. Clearly, I had lost this battle, but I would try my fucking hardest to win the war.

We were way past the point of this being friendly or casual banter. The sexual tension was heavy between us, and I had some shit to prove. He reached up and gently caressed my chin. Breaking me from my trance as he spoke, "Focus, mama. Where your head at, pretty girl?" His smile was now even more intense and sinister. It was as if he was feeding off of my nervousness. Was he getting off on watching me react like this? A devil, I tell you.

At this point, all I could say to myself was "fight back, bitch".

"Just thinking," I said looking up at him. I was struggling to keep my composure. I bit my lip to hide the anxious smile I was fighting. He said nothing as his eyes dropped to watch my movements. His eyes flowed from my lip to my body and back up to my eyes again.

Antsy and nervous, I began to rock on my heels shyly. My facade was beginning to break, and I was crumbling by the second. "Uh oh. Is all that big girl energy fading away?" he asked slowly using his thumb to stroke my cheek. "Big girl energy? I'm a grown woman." I snapped back. I instantly dropped my eyes in regret. "Oouu, there she goes," he said raising one of his eyebrows. This man was taking me for a joke, and my dumbass was letting him.

I raised my head to meet his eyes again. "You don't take shit I say seriously. Do you,... Um... Wait, I never got your name," I stated while watching him and waiting for a response. "Yes, you did. I told you what it was. You don't remember? Huh, pretty girl?" he questioned gathering my hand in his. He held my hand while I struggled to remember if this man ever said his name. I couldn't recall him ever saying a name at all. I, for sure, would have remembered replying with mine if he did. Was I that dumbstruck by this man? Did he have me forgetting portions of this conversation?

Then, it hit me. He said a name, but there was no way in hell that he wanted me to call him that. Right? Did he really want me to call him "DADDY"? I couldn't call a man that, especially a man that I just met. This had to be a joke. I was pulled from my thoughts by feeling his hand cupping my chin. He raised my face upwards to meet his gaze. Those striking eyes were piercing down into mine, and I could almost swear his eyes had darkened to bronze.

The growing intensity of his gaze and the faint grip he held on my chin indicated that he was awaiting an answer. "Something tells me you know exactly what my name is. You just don't want to say it. It's okay. I'll get it out of you one way or another, lil' mama," he said laughing. "And how are you going to do that?" I asked raising my hands to play with the lower hem of his plain t-shirt. "Don't worry. It doesn't matter if I got chu yellin' it, screamin' it, whisperin' it, crying' it. As long as I got chu sayin' it, I did my job," he said leaning in closer.

I could feel the warmth of every breath he took on my neck. The heat from that alone was like a smoke signal. I refused to fall prey to my own desperation, but my brain and pussy were now working against each other. I desired to feel every part of this man in EVERY capacity. I needed a closer connection, so I used the hem of his shirt to softly pull him in closer. I wouldn't dare fold that fucking easily. Not like this.

*FIGHT BACK!*

The wheels were now turning in my head, and my brain was in overdrive. I had to finish what I started. He was right about one thing. I WAS A "BIG GIRL". A woman whose thighs destroyed jeans on the regular and who could talk a lot of shit but wasn't going to take much of it. I had to get him while he was close enough to feel it.

"And what job might that be? Huh,....Daddy?" I asked while trailing my hand up his chest to rest on his shoulder. "Mmmm..." he said taking a deep breath. GOT HIM! He removed his hand that was resting on my chin and rubbed the back of his neck. "What? Did I say something wrong?" I asked sheepishly. I was proudly smirking at this point. "Nah. You said everything right," he said smiling back at me.

I decided to take it up a notch. What was the harm in having a little fun? We were only talking after all. I couldn't believe I was feeding into this, but fuck it. "So, does that make me a good girl?" I asked stroking my hand along the back of his neck awaiting an answer.

I could feel the shift in his energy. Desire overtook his eyes. His playfulness had turned primal. "Are you?" he asked tilting his head while watching me. "What's the fun in tellin' you when I could just show you?" I replied as I stilled my hand to rest on his neck. He caught my hand and brought it to rest at his lips. He placed small kisses on the back of my hand. His eyes never left mine. "I guess that settles it, lil' mama. You busy tonight? I think I might have something fun for us to do," he asked smugly.

I knew exactly what this man meant, and I was going to enjoy every minute of it. I just hope he can keep up because...

"Big Mama don't fold, and Big Mama don't quit. If you stay awhile, she'll show you some shit."

Taglist: @avoidthings @brattyfics @5headsupremacist @creartivefairy

[causticsunshine]

.

[sugarypinecones]

a panic challenge is busted and having to avoid the cops with dodge… sneaking you into his bedroom while his mom and sister sleep… giving you a rodeo t-shirt to sleep in… maybe making the first move straight away… or maybe going to bed and then waking up a few hours later tangled together in his bed…

we were jet-set, bonnie and clyde — dodge mason x reader

warnings: SMUT(?) he never actually gets close enough but he gets.. pretty close, like cum in your pants close oops but i can do a pt2 i just kinda got confused and unsure how to really.. like do things idk and i kinda hate it but it took so much time and writing i feel bad if i scrapt it, mentions of reader living in texas obviously, reader has no real desire to win panic, whiny desperate dodge, idrk how to tag its late im tired, dayna interrupts without knowing

a/n: oh i love this actually. like actually love this. like im foaming at the mouth thinking about this actually. title from getaway car by taylor swift also, love u all and ty for the request!! 💐💐 also sucks esp the ending but like idk im down to rewrite the ending if not continue the tangled thing! just lmk if you actually wanted it and dont be afraid to leave other requests.

Living in Carp, Texas meant that there weren’t many fun things to do. You can only drive around an empty parking lot for so long before getting bored. So when the opportunity of playing Panic rises, you rise with it.

And surprisingly, you didn’t immediately get eliminated. In fact — you’ve somehow made it this far, round two, which.. you’re sure you’re going to fall to your death or just entirely not do it. And you were fine with that, truly. You had your fun.

Now it was time to focus on something a little bit more real – your chances of winning the pot were low, especially because of all that stuff last year, and because of Dodge Mason.

If you didn’t know what determination was before that boy, you definitely did now. It was hard not to see him and not see determination, especially after the first challenge. He didn’t have fear in his eyes when he did it, unlike any of the other contestants. He had something else.

You shift on the hood of the beat-up car, sighing as you look over your shoulder for any sign of your friends. It was hard to tell through the sea of people — some juniors who were eager to see the game, some graduates who refused to play, such and such.

Dodge’s eyes roamed over to you, taking in the way you fiddled with the bracelets on your wrists and the tight, nervous expression on your face. He knew what you were thinking — he could see it in your eyes. I don’t belong here.

He watched you look around for your friends and found himself wondering why you were alone. Why weren’t you with them?

He seems to recognize you from the first challenge, and when you meet his gaze, he raises a hand. A small smile follows, and you can’t stop yourself from smiling in return.

Something sparked in Dodge’s chest as your lips curled into a small smile — he hadn’t expected a smile in return. Nor had he expected your eyes to soften at the sight of him, or your cheeks to flush a pretty shade of pink.

Maybe he had more of a chance with you than he thought.

The sight of you smiling in return gives him just enough confidence to walk over, stopping in-front of you. It was slightly unnerving, but it felt nice. Exhilarating, even.

He smirked to himself, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out to you — and just like that, his bravado returned.

“So,” he started, turning his head to the side to look down at you as he leaned against the car. “Here to root for me?”

Your gaze tilts to him, and you almost laughed. “No, I’m here to win.”

Dodge raised an eyebrow at your response, a scoff and chuckle of disbelief slipping between his lips. He turned around, leaning his hip against the hood of the car, the smirk never wavering from his face.

“Oh, really?” He said, cocking his head to the side. “You honestly think you stand a chance against me?”

He wasn’t sure where all this confidence was coming from - because if it were anyone else, he would’ve just been nodding along with simple responses by now.

You grin. “I know so.”

He let out a hearty laugh and shook his head.

“I’m serious!” You exclaim, although, you really aren’t. You planned to chicken out the second you got called on that death-trap of a beam, no way in hell are you risking your life just to possibly lose in the end.

“Yeah,” he begun, but you shook your head; letting laughs fall from your lips. “No, not really.” You grin up at him, and he acts surprised; but he kind of had a feeling from the start you wouldn’t actually go through with any of this.

“No? What do you mean, ‘no’?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re backing out just like that?”

Your eyes catch on the flex of his muscles as his arms fold over his chest, before flickering back up to his face with a shrug. “I guess—“

You’re cut off by the sound of sirens approaching, closing your eyes as you let out a frustrated exhale. Playing panic was dangerous — watching it, even.

Dodge’s expression quickly turned serious as the sound of sirens filled the air. He immediately turned his head towards the noise, his muscles tense and eyes narrowing.

He quickly looked back over at you, silently cursing how distracted he had become from your presence. He should have been on guard — his focus needed to be on the task at hand, not on some cute girl.

“Cops,” he said lowly, looking back at the police cars approaching.

“Obviously,” you retort, sliding of the hood as you glance over your shoulder. There wasn’t really much places to scatter to, but –

Your train of thought is cut off by his hand on your wrist, pulling you along towards a patch of woods.

Dodge moved fast, tugging on your wrist and pulling you away from the car. He quickly led you towards a patch of woods nearby, trying to put as much distance between you and the cops before they got out of their cars.

He kept his grip on your hand as you ran, his fingers wrapped firmly around your wrist. They were rough — calloused from working on the farm and years of horseback riding.

As they made it into the safety of the trees, Dodge pulled you behind a large oak, pinning you against the trunk.

He quickly retracted, internally cursing himself for doing such. “Sorry, instinct,” he grumbles, although not angry towards you, god, not you.

“You lead a lot of girls away from cops?” You quip, fighting the urge to laugh to yourself.

Dodge let out a huff of a laugh, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair. Adrenaline was still coursing through his veins, his heart thudding loudly in his chest.

He’d somehow managed to pull you almost 500 yards within that span of three minutes.

“Yeah, all the time,” he replied sarcastically, his smirk returning as he leaned his shoulder against the tree next to you. “You’re the twenty-third one I’ve led this month alone.”

You roll your eyes, “How charming.”

Dodge chuckled at your eye roll, leaning closer to you and looking down at you. His smirk widened as he pushed himself off of the tree, turning to face you fully.

“Yeah, I’m a real charmer,” he joked, crossing his arms over his chest once more. He paused then, noticing how close he was to you.

He cleared his throat before speaking again, pulling away, partially in fear of scaring you, partially in fear he couldn’t stop himself from asking to kiss you. “So, uh… you got a ride home or something?”

Fuck. No you did not. You hadn’t actually accounted that part down — you came with your friend, who is currently nowhere to be found, if not currently in the back of a cop car.

“No.” You huffed, narrowing your gaze as you looked at him, “I was gonna crash at Natalie’s,” You said, trying to explain your situation, which wasn’t hard to understand to begin with. Came with a friend, planned to leave with a friend, currently 500 yards away from said friend’s car, can’t exactly account to go home, as you told her you were going to bed three hours ago.

Dodge’s eyebrows furrowed at your answer — not out of annoyance, but concern. He knew the cops would be searching everywhere, and you didn’t have a ride home.

He thought for a moment, weighing his options. He couldn’t leave you out here alone until the police left. It was too dangerous.

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair again before speaking. “Alright,” he said, looking down at you. “You’re comin’ home with me, then.”

Your eyes widen, and you seem to swallow as you tilt your head forwards, perplexed. “What?”

Dodge raised an eyebrow at your reaction, his expression shifting to confusion. He was surprised that you seemed so shocked by his offer.

Although, he got it. You didn’t know him well — not outside of school at least. You had seem him a few times, sat by him in a few classes. Thought he was cute, too, but never would’ve admitted that.

“You need a place to stay for the night,” he explained, his eyes locked on yours. “And you sure as hell can’t stay here.”

He paused, eyeing you up and down before continuing. “So you’ll stay at my house. It’s not a big deal.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but quickly snapped it shut, knowing he was right. Spending the night in the woods with the cops searching was a recipe for disaster.

Going home would be even worse.

And yet… spending the night at his house still stirred something within you — anxiety, excitement, curiosity — you couldn’t tell.

“Okay,” You nod, eyes darting around. “Yeah.” You exhale, it was for the better. You weren’t gonna sleep on the side of the road, and you knew Dodge.. to an extent, enough to know he’s not gonna pull an axe on you in your sleep.

Dodge’s face morphed into a sly grin as you agreed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He knew he was probably going to regret this later — he’d never brought a girl to his house before, let alone a girl his mother didn’t approve of.

“Atta girl,” he said, lightly patting your shoulder before shoving his hands into his pockets. “Let’s go.”

Dodge stepped away from the protective cover of the trees, gesturing for you to follow him. The coast was clear for now, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

As you fell in step with him, he leaned down to your ear. “Just so you know,” he began in a low voice. “My mom doesn’t know you’re coming over. So.. don’t talk too loud when we get to the house, alright?”

You cock your head to the side, a slight laugh escaping under your breath. “Doesn’t know or isn’t okay?”

Dodge chuckled, shaking his head as he continued walking. “Both,” he answered, his hands still shoved in his pockets.

“She wouldn’t exactly be thrilled to have some girl she’s never met before spend the night out of nowhere.”

You nod, wondering why he’d offer in the first place then. He could’ve left you to get in trouble with your mom, left you to get eliminated, anything else.

“Is that your car?” You tilt your head forwards, breaking the silence that fell over the two teens, eyeing a white car.

Dodge followed your gaze, looking at the car you were eyeing. He nodded, a proud smile forming on his lips. “Yeah,” he said, a hint of boasting in his voice. “That’s her.”

You find it slightly funny that he’s gendered his car.

He quickly started towards the car, reaching it within a few long strides. He pulled the passenger side door open, motioning for you to get in. “C’mon.”

You almost hesitate — but, it’s not like you have another choice — or enough self control.

You hesitated for a moment, looking at the open door before climbing inside. You settled into the leather seat, shutting the door behind you, your stomach twisting with nervousness.

Dodge walked around to the driver’s side and got in, settling into the seat and buckling his seatbelt. He twisted the key in the ignition, the engine of the car coming to life with a low, rumbling purr.

He pulled out of the field and onto the road, navigating the deserted streets skillfully. You sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound being the low hum of the engine and the occasional crunch of gravel beneath the tires.

Dodge glanced over at you out of the corner of his eye, noticing how tense and quiet you seemed. He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “You alright?”

You nod. “Yeah, I guess it’s just..” You trailed off, unsure of how to actually describe the feeling.

It wasn’t scary, but it was. You were almost excited, but you didn’t know him well. Any knowledgeable person would be wary, but god, was Dodge Mason cute.

“I don’t know.”

Dodge chuckled, a sympathetic scoff falling from his lips at your failed attempt at putting your feelings into words.

He could tell you were conflicted about all of this — going home with a guy you barely knew, spending the night in a home you’ve never been to before… he didn’t blame you.

He sighed, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter. “Yeah, I’m sure this isn’t how you planned to spend your night, huh?”

You scoff. “Who doesn’t plan to go home with a boy they barely know after cops raid them?”

He shook his head with a grin and looked over at you again, his eyes scanning over your features. Despite the absurdity of the situation, he couldn’t help the fluttery feeling in his chest as he looked at you.

You stayed silent for a moment, your eyes fixed on the passing scenery outside the car window. The night was still and quiet, only the hum of the engine breaking the silence.

“Dodge?” You spoke up suddenly, your voice soft.

Dodge’s attention immediately went to you, his eyes flickering over to glance at you. “Yeah?” He responded, his tone just as quiet as yours.

You shifted in your seat, turning to face him. “Can I ask you something?” you inquired, your expression slightly serious.

Dodge raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued by the sudden shift in your demeanor. “Shoot,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the road.

You paused for a moment, collecting your thoughts before speaking. “Why did you offer to let me stay the night?”

The question had been weighing on your mind since the moment he suggested it. You knew he wasn’t exactly the most responsible or trustworthy person, yet he’d gone out of his way to offer you refuge at his home.

Dodge’s grip tightened around the steering wheel as you asked the question. He expected it, knowing it was bound to come up eventually, but he wasn’t exactly prepared to answer it fully.

The truth was simple — he found you attractive, intriguing, and he was drawn to you in a way he couldn’t explain. But he wasn’t going to say that out loud, not yet.

Instead, he shrugged nonchalantally. “Seemed like you needed a place to stay,” he responded, keeping his tone casual.

Your eyebrows furrowed, sensing the hint of evasion in his answer. You knew there was more to it than that, but you also knew it wasn’t your place to push him for the truth — especially given your options in the current moment.

You let out a sigh, leaning back in your seat and looking out the window again. The rest of the ride passed in silence, only broken by the sound of the engine and the occasional rumble of the road beneath the tires.

After a few minutes, Dodge finally pulled into a long gravel driveway, leading up to a house. The house was modest, but well-kept. Even in the dim light, you could make out the meticulously maintained garden and the freshly painted exterior.

He shifted the car into park and killed the engine, turning to look at you. “We’re here.”

You unbuckled your seatbelt and looked out the windshield, taking in the sight of the house. It was cozy, but not overly extravagant. It looked lived in — a home owned by a family who actually spent time here.

You let out a shaky breath, nerves starting to bubble up inside you once more. This was really happening. You were really going in there.

It wasn’t like regular nerves you’d had before. Not like panic, more like when you’re hanging out with a friend you’ve met for the first time — although, you technically know Dodge.

Dodge could sense the anxiety radiating from you, your nervousness evident in the way you fidgeted in your seat. He let out a low sigh, his eyes flickering over your features for a moment before speaking.

“You’re gonna be fine,” he reassured you, his voice soft. “My mom and sister are probably already asleep, so just stay quiet.”

You nodded, smiling. “Well, let’s go then. I’m tired.”

Dodge returned your smile with a nod of his own, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turned his attention to unbuckling his seatbelt.

He pushed the driver’s side door open, the soft creak of the metal mixing with the sound of the crickets chirping in the night air. He got out of the car and shut the door, rounding the hood and opening your door for you.

You stepped out of the car, your shoes crunching on the gravel beneath them. You followed Dodge as he led the way to the front door, your eyes darting around nervously, taking in the surroundings.

He paused in front of the door and fumbled through his pockets, searching for his keys. After a moment, he fished them out and unlocked the door, pushing it open quietly.

He wasn’t exactly worried about making noise - his mom usually didn’t pay mind to him coming late. She figured he’d be home way later in any other circumstances, anyways.

As Dodge opened the door, a warm, inviting light spilled out from inside the house. You followed him inside, stepping into the entranceway and closing the door softly behind you.

The interior of the house was cozy and homey, with warm wood accents and comfortable furnishings. There was a sense of order and cleanliness, but it didn’t feel overly stiff or overly lived-in.

Dodge gestured for you to keep your shoes on, before nodding towards a hallway. “My room’s down there,” he whispered, indicating the direction of a long hallway to the left of the entryway.

You followed his gaze, looking down the hallway. You could see several doors lining the sides of the hallway, presumably leading to different rooms — bathrooms, bedrooms, and the like.

You looked back at Dodge, your heart rate increasing as you realized the implication of his words. His room. Where he sleeps. Where you’ll be sleeping, in close proximity to him.

Dodge noticed the look on your face, noticing the way your eyes widened slightly, betraying your thoughts. He chuckled softly, trying to ease the tension.

“Relax,” he whispered, his tone playful. “You’ll be fine. My room’s big enough for the both of us.”

You roll your eyes, “OK, cowboy.” You step into the open door, taking in the dimly-lit room. It wasn’t much. Just trophies, a wardrobe and a bed and small clutter around the room.

You liked it. You could get used to it.

Dodge chuckled at your nickname, following you into the room and shutting the door behind him. The atmosphere grew more intimate as you both entered the enclosed space, the faint smell of his cologne mingling with the scent of his laundry detergent.

He leaned against the wall, watching you look around with a slight smirk on his lips. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said, gesturing to the bed.

You don’t take any convincing, and immediately flop down onto the bed, exhaling at the feel of the differing comfort in comparison to his car and old truck.

Dodge let out another chuckle as you flopped onto the bed, his eyes watching you sprawled out on his sheets. the sight amused him - you looked like a starfish on the soft material of the mattress.

He pushed away from the wall and walked across the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to you. “Comfy?” He teased, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Yeah,” you hummed, a soft grin adorning your face. “although,” you sit up, glancing to him, “wish I would’ve known i’d be having a sleepover. All my stuff is in Nat’s car.”

Dodge chuckled, his eyes scanning over you as you sat up next to him. “Well, I didn’t exactly plan for this either,” he retorted, a smirk still playing on his lips.

He thought for a moment, his gaze flicking towards the door and then back to you. “You can borrow something to sleep in, if you want.���

You nod vicariously, laughing. “I am not sleeping in this.”

Dodge chuckled, leaning back on his arms as he looked you up and down. He took in your outfit, noting how out of place it seemed in this setting.

“Yeah, it’s not exactly sleepwear,” he agreed, amusement in his voice. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering over your body before he spoke again. “I got some old T-shirts you can borrow.”

He stood up, walking over to the closet, before tossing a shirt your way. It was larger, but you could tell that it was his. It smelt faintly like him, and you can make the outlines out of a cracked pattern from an old rodeo.

You smiled up at him, appreciatively. “Thanks,” you said, placing the clothes down beside you. “Do you mind if I change here?”

Being caught by his sister or mom wasn’t exactly a want for you right now.

“Nope, go ahead,” he replied, leaning against the wall lazily. “I won’t look.”

You nodded, watching as his gaze shifts towards the closet, adjusting clothes.

You waste no time peeling the clothes off of you, pulling the T-shirt over your body as you exhale, and then pulling the old sweatpants over your body, tying them as tight as you could around your waist.

“Okay.” You said.

He quickly shook the thoughts away, clearing his throat. “You decent?” He asked, looking over at you.

“Yep.” You nod, shifting back on the bed some, “Oh,” you glance away, “you can change too, sorry.”

Dodge chuckled at your realization, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He pushed himself off the wall and walked over to the bed, sitting down next to you again.

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassured you, reaching down and grabbing the hem of his shirt. “I wasn’t planning on sleeping in this, anyways.”

He pulled the fabric over his head and tossed it onto the floor, revealing his bare chest.

He knows how badly this could’ve ended - but, he was already here, and honestly the lack of sleep was beginning to make him more bold than he’d like to admit.

Your eyebrows raise, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you met his gaze.

Dodge noticed your reaction, his smirk widening as he caught your laugh. He chuckled in response, his eyes locked on yours.

“What?” He asked, his voice playful. “Never seen a guy shirtless before?”

You shake your head, blinking back shock. “I have,” you note, trying to pretend as if your eyes weren’t raking over his body.

“Just.. wasn’t expecting this.”

Her close proximity was intoxicating, the scent of her perfume filling his senses and clouding his thoughts.

He leaned in slightly, his face inches away from yours. His gaze flicked from your eyes to lips, the desire to kiss you overwhelming any logical thoughts in his mind.

"Tell me," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Tell me you want this. Tell me to, and I will. But I need to hear you say it."

He leaned in further, his lips hovering just above yours, the gap between them practically non-existent.

"I want this," you admitted, barely audible.

Without another word, he closed the minimal gap between them, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss.

His hands moved from your cheek to grip your hips, pulling you flush against him.

But it wasn't just about physical need, you could sense. There was a sense of desperation in the way he held you, as if this moment was more than just a passing lust.

As the kiss deepened, Dodge backed you up against the bed, gently maneuvering you until you were trapped between him and the mattress.

His hands moved under your shirt, tracing a path up your bare skin, causing you to shiver against him.

Dodge trailed hot kisses down your neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of burning desire in their wake. His hands roamed over your body, worshiping every inch of your bare skin.

His mouth returned to yours, claiming your lips in a passionate embrace. He rolled his hips against you, eliciting a gasp from your lips as the friction between your bodies intensified.

With a smooth movement, he pulled away from your lips and moved to your jawline, nipping and nibbling at the sensitive skin there.

“You have no idea,” he rasped, his voice low and ragged with desire, “how long I've wanted to do this.”

His hands moved from your hips to your thighs, gripping the flesh hard as he shifted between your legs.

Dodge took a few moments to admire the sight of you beneath him, your face flushed and lips swollen from his kisses. He couldn't get enough of you, the way you tasted, the way you felt beneath him.

He leaned down to capture your lips again, his hands roaming further up your thighs. His fingers toyed with the waistband of the sweatpants, the thought of going further crossing his mind.

Dodge broke the kiss, panting slightly as he looked down at you again.

“God,” he rasped, his gaze roaming over your flushed face and disheveled hair. “You’re so damn beautiful like this.”

He leaned back down, his breath hot against your ear. “I want you,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “All of you. Right here. Right now.”

His lips moved to your neck, trailing hot kisses down your collarbone as his hands continued to wander over your body. His fingers dipped beneath the waistband of the sweatpants, tracing patterns against your skin.

“Okay,” You nod, “okay,” you repeat softer.

Dodge's breath hitches at your agreement, his fingers stilling. He pulls away just enough to look at you, his expression a mixture of surprise and relief.

"Yeah?" He asks, his voice slightly shaky. "You're sure?"

You nod, “I’m sure.”

Dodge's response is immediate, his mouth crashing back down onto yours in a passionate kiss. His hands move faster now, pushing down the sweatpants and discarding them onto the floor.

He positions himself back between your legs, his body pressing against yours as he kisses you hungrily. One of his thighs slides against you, causing you to gasp into the kiss.

Dodge takes advantage of your moment of surprise, his tongue slipping past your lips to explore your mouth. His hands roam over your bare thighs and hips, gripping the flesh tightly as he continues to move against you.

You can feel his hardness pressing against you, the evidence of his desire evident and urgent. He pulls away from the kiss, panting slightly, and looks down at you.

“God,” he mutters, his voice ragged and hoarse. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

He shifts his hips, pressing against you more purposefully. The friction between your bodies causes him to let out a guttural groan, his head dropping down to bury in your neck.

He peppers your neck with kisses, his lips and teeth leaving behind a trail of marks and bites. He continues to rock his hips against you, the friction growing more and more intense as the seconds pass.

His hands roam over your body, mapping out every dip and curve with fervor. He's almost feverish in his touch, his need for you overwhelming his rational thoughts.

"I need," he gasps, his breath warm against your skin, "I need..."

He doesn't finish his sentence, instead moving to capture your lips in another bruising kiss. His hands move to your hips, gripping them tightly as he increases the pace of his movements. The friction between your bodies is enough to send waves of pleasure through you, the feeling consuming your senses.

Dodge breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to see your face. He takes in the sight of you, hair mussed, eyes glazed over with desire, cheeks flushed with color.

He looks wrecked himself, his breathing labored and his body taut with tension. Every muscle in his body is pulled taught, as if he's holding back from completely letting go.

His grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your skin. He's on the edge, you can tell. But he's still holding back, still trying to control himself.

"I want... I need..." he pants, his words coming out in shuddering gasps. "I need to hear you say it. Tell me I can... tell me you want..."

He trails off, unable to finish his sentence. He's desperate, his need for you almost palpable in the air.

He know’s he’s gotten your permission beforehand, but he needs to be sure.

“Please.” You whine.

Dodge exhales a ragged breath at your response, the sound almost a moan. He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours, his body trembling with need.

"Thank god," he gasps, his voice cracking slightly. "Thank god."

He captures your lips in a desperate kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth hungrily. His hands move from your hips to your thighs, spreading your legs further apart as he positions himself against you.

The friction between your bodies is maddening now, the pleasure building with every movement. Dodge bucks his hips against you, causing you both to moan into the kiss.

He breaks the kiss again, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "You feel so good," he whispers against your skin, his words sending shivers through your body. "So perfect, so goddamn perfect."

His hands roam over your body, touching and caressing every inch of exposed flesh. He's everywhere at once, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure that spread through your body like wildfire.

You almost whine out at the lack of contact to your body as his hands travel to his belt.

Dodge's hands fumble with his jeans, the frantic motion a clear indicator of how desperately he needs you. He pushes the material down, kicking them off the edge of the bed with a hasty movement.

He's bare now, his body exposed and vulnerable in a way he rarely lets himself be. He positions himself back between your legs, bracing himself above you.

He pauses for a moment, taking in the sight of you beneath him. You're flushed and trembling, your eyes glassy with desire. You can see his gaze flickering over your body, taking in every detail, every curve.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His hands grip your hips again, holding you in place as he rolls his own into you.

The friction between your bodies is enough to drive you both insane. Dodge lets out a guttural moan into the kiss, his grip on your hips tight enough to bruise.

He swears he could come at the sight of this alone, and he honestly might.

A rapid knock to his door stirs him out of his frenzy.

Dodge grunts in surprise, pulled out of his passionate haze by the interruption. He looks up at you, his eyes still dark with desire but confused by the sudden intrusion.

"What?" he asks, his voice slightly hoarse as he called out to his sister in the hallway. "What's wrong?"

“I can’t reach the cereal above the fridge.”

He rolled his eyes, huffing as he pulled your — his, sweatpants over his body.

He raises a finger, as if telling you to wait, and you nod, but you were asleep by the time he finished helping Dana.

[mononijikayu]

boy, i, boy, i, boy, i know i know you got the feels — fushiguro megumi.

“You… want to be with me?” he repeated slowly, like he needed to say it out loud to make sure he understood. “Yes!” you said, more firmly this time. “I like you, Megumi. A lot!” For a long moment, he didn’t move, didn’t speak. “What..what do you mean by like? Do you mean…like like…..or…” You looked at him confused. “But of course I like you, Megumi. You’re like my best friend!” He lowered his head. “I see.” When Gojo Satoru heard all about that, he laughed so hard he fell off a chair. Fushiguro Tsumiki was worried but Fushiguro Megumi just slapped his arm while he coughed for air.

Genre: Alternate Universe — Canon Convergence;

Warning/s: Romance, Love, Fluff, First Love, Faling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, Strangers to Friends, Friends to Lovers, Feelings, Confessions, Anxiety, Self-Esteem, Awkwardness, Teasing, Sibling Relationship, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Humor, Protectiveness, Happy Ending, Teenage Angst, Young Love Is a Pain, Teenagers Going Through It, Sorcerer! Reader, Mild-Tsundere! Megumi, Mild-Tsundere! Reader, Gojo Satoru as a Brother;

Words: 7.8k words.

note: i wrote this maybe twice or thrice. i didn't like multiple drafts, so i kept rewriting. this was supposed to be more and more about the introspection of young people. i don't think i had that sort of phase. mine was pretty different. so i had to look into that feeling, like what would it feel like as a teenager to fall in love like this? anyway, i hope you enjoy this a lot. i love you all!!! <3

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IT WAS HARD TO EXIST THE WAY YOU WANTED. You feel like you’ve been like that all your life—too much. It doesn’t help that you were born a Gojo, like your brother. The expectations that came with the name were already heavy, but add that to everything else, and you stood out whether you wanted to or not.

You’ve always been taller—taller than the other girls in your class, taller than most of the boys too. It’s the kind of height that made you stick out awkwardly in photos, your limbs feeling too long, too noticeable, and like they never quite fit where they should.

And just as much, you were too loud. You were the kid who couldn’t sit still, who laughed too hard, and who spoke before thinking. You always had an opinion, a comment, or some joke to crack.

But while some people admired the confidence, others found it overwhelming. You’d hear them whisper about how you didn’t know how to take up less space, how you didn’t know when to stop talking. Even if they didn’t say it out loud, you could feel it—their exhaustion with your presence.

But none of their words mattered—not really. Because you never felt alone. Not when you had your brother. Satoru, with all his power and his cocky grin, had a way of making things lighter, easier. Like nothing in the world could ever bother you as long as he was there.

He always knew how to turn everything into a joke, how to lift the weight of the world off your shoulders like it was nothing. When people teased you for being too much, for being the loud Gojo girl who towered over everyone, he’d shrug it off like it was all beneath him. He never made you feel like you were too much for him.

With Satoru, it didn’t matter if you were awkward, clumsy, or too tall. He’d laugh with you, poke fun at your height like it was something to be proud of. And when people couldn’t handle you, when they stepped back because your energy was just a little too wild for them, Satoru was always there. He made you feel like the world was yours to take, that being "too much" was just another way of being more than enough.

Gojo Satoru was larger than life. He was the type who filled a room with his presence, never shy, never hesitant, always overflowing with energy. You followed in his wake, figuring that you’d grow up just like him—bold, confident, and, if you were lucky, a little ridiculous too.

People gravitated toward your brother, and you always figured they’d do the same with you, that you’d never feel small because you’d learned from the best how to be big, even if it wasn’t in the way you looked.

But of course, he had his own life too. And he was older than you. He had duties and dreams and hopes that he was going to chase after. Slowly but surely, you realized that your brother was not always going to be in your life.

You realized that he was going to live a life beyond you. He has to. And in the mind of a little girl, that had triggered some things. And you were inconsolable. You had never felt more distraught in your life.

“What are you even crying about?”

You had looked up, with your tear ridden blue eyes.

Blue–green gleams burned against your own orbs.

Then, there was Fushiguro Megumi.

Satoru had introduced you to him when you were both kids. It was a warm summer afternoon, and you remembered standing beside your brother, peeking curiously at the quiet boy who looked so out of place at your energetic, whirlwind of a home. 

“This is Megumi, little sis.” Satoru had said, patting the boy’s head with a wide grin. “He’s going to stay with us for a while with his sister. Take care of him, okay?”

You remembered Megumi’s solemn face, those intense, dark eyes peering up at you with a mix of wariness and confusion. Something about him stuck with you right away. He wasn’t like Satoru at all.

Where your brother was loud, brash, and always moving like a force of nature, Megumi was quiet, reserved, and even a little distant. But in that stillness, there was a calm that made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t expected. His presence was grounding, like he didn’t need to be loud to make an impact. The more time you spent around him, the more drawn in you became.

Even as a kid, you knew there was something special about him, something that made your heart skip in a way that confused you at first. He didn’t chase after attention like others did. He seemed comfortable being on the sidelines, watching quietly as if the chaos around him couldn’t reach him. And somehow, that pulled you in even more.

You’d find yourself watching him—whether it was during meals when he’d quietly pick at his food while Satoru jabbered on about nonsense, or when he’d curl up in a corner of the house, reading a book that looked too difficult for his age. You admired how steady he was, how he always seemed so unaffected by the noise and chaos that surrounded him.

One time, you even tried to mimic that calmness. You’d sat beside him in the living room, crossing your legs and folding your hands neatly in your lap, glancing over at him to see if he noticed. Megumi had looked up from his book, raising an eyebrow slightly. 

“What… are you doing?”

“Trying to be calm.” you’d announced proudly, puffing your chest out a little. “Like you.”

He blinked at you, his serious expression almost comically puzzled. “Why?”

“Because you’re… cool!” you’d blurted out, cheeks heating up. “You’re, um, like a cat. Quiet and… mysterious.” Even back then, you were terrible at explaining yourself, but the words just tumbled out in your eagerness to be understood.

Megumi’s lips twitched, and you’d swear you saw the faintest hint of a smile. “A cat?” he echoed, looking almost amused.

“Yeah!” you’d nodded enthusiastically. “Cats don’t need to be loud or run around to be interesting. They just… are. Like you.”

He’d stared at you for a moment, then ducked his head, ears turning pink. “That’s… a weird thing to say.”

You’d deflated a little, afraid you’d embarrassed yourself, but then Megumi had quietly shifted a bit closer, still looking down at his book. “But… thanks.” he’d mumbled, voice barely above a whisper. “I guess.”

That small, almost shy acknowledgment had made your heart swell with a warmth you didn’t quite understand. From then on, you found yourself seeking out his company more and more, content to sit beside him even if neither of you spoke much. Back then, it was simple. You just wanted to be near him, to be a part of that quiet space he seemed to create around himself.

But it wasn’t long before that simple admiration started to turn into something more. You’d catch yourself staring at him a little longer, noticing things like the way his eyes softened when he looked at you or how his hair would fall just a bit over his forehead, making you want to brush it away. Whenever Satoru teased him and made him blush, you felt an inexplicable urge to do something, anything, to make him smile instead.

Years later, that feeling only grew stronger, until it became impossible to ignore. And now, standing under the sakura trees, feeling like your heart might burst out of your chest, you finally realized why. Megumi had always been special to you, in a way no one else ever could be. And the thought of telling him that was terrifying—but also, thrilling.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Hey, Megumi,” you called out softly, stepping closer to where he stood. He glanced up, surprised by the sound of your voice cutting through the silence. “Do you remember when I said you’re like a cat?”

Megumi frowned slightly, as if trying to recall, then gave a hesitant nod. “Yeah, I think so. Why?”

“Well…” You bit your lip, fighting the urge to look away. “I still think that. But I also think… you’re more than just that.”

His eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You’re…” You took a deep breath, the words coming out in a rush. “You’re everything I’ve always wanted, Megumi. You’re kind, and you make me feel safe. And… and I want to be with you. Always.”

The silence that followed was almost unbearable. Megumi just stared at you, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly open as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You… want to be with me?” he repeated slowly, like he needed to say it out loud to make sure he understood.

“Yes!” you said, more firmly this time. “I like you, Megumi. A lot!”

For a long moment, he didn’t move, didn’t speak. “What..what do you mean by like? Do you mean…like like…..or…”

You looked at him confused. “But of course I like you, Megumi. You’re like my best friend!”

He lowered his head. “I see.”

When Gojo Satoru heard all about that, he laughed so hard he fell off a chair. Fushiguro Tsumiki was worried but Fushiguro Megumi just slapped his arm while he coughed for air.

But as you grew older, those feelings started to change, become more complex, more uncertain. It wasn’t just a childhood crush anymore; it was something deeper. You found yourself thinking about Megumi in ways that left you feeling vulnerable, like there was a part of you that would always be reaching out to him, even if you weren’t sure he’d reach back.

It hits you suddenly;like lightning straight to your heart. You’re sitting on the couch with Megumi and your brother Satoru, casually chatting about nothing in particular, but every time Megumi glances your way, something flips inside you. It’s ridiculous, really, how just the smallest brush of his fingers against yours sends you spiraling.

You try to stay composed, but your mind is racing, wondering if he feels it too. Does his heart skip when your knees touch? Is he trying to steal glances at you the way you do when he’s not looking? Your thoughts swirl—Catching feels like butterflies—and it’s getting harder to focus on the conversation.

Satoru notices immediately, of course. The knowing smirk on his face is impossible to miss.

"Hey, you good?" he asks, voice laced with amusement. "You're looking kinda flushed. Maybe it's the heat—oh wait, maybe it's just Cupid."

You shoot him a glare, but the grin on his face only widens.

"Shut up." you mutter, crossing your arms, though the heat in your cheeks betrays you. “Focus on everything else except me.”

He leans in closer, eyes glinting with mischief. "Ooooh, are you catching feels?" He snickers, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "This is too good! I thought you were just spacing out, but nope, you're totally—boom-boom-boom from head to toe."

Megumi glances over, raising an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

Before you can even attempt to answer, Satoru’s all over it, teasing mercilessly. "Oh, nothing! Just my dearest sister here having a bit of a heart-fluttering moment. But don’t worry, Megumi, she’s just having a moment. But boy, I know, boy I know, my sis has the feels!"

You want to disappear right then and there. Of course, Satoru would turn this into a full-blown spectacle. You manage to meet Megumi’s gaze, and to your surprise, there’s a slight flush on his cheeks too.

"Ignore him, okay?" Megumi says, voice calm but softer than usual. He smiles at you, for a moment. You could feel yourself getting hot. He was pretty when he smiled. Oh my god. “He’s just…annoying again.”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Spoken like a child.”

It gives you a little hope, just enough to make you wonder if maybe—just maybe—his heart beats the same way.

But before you can dwell on that, Satoru’s voice cuts through the moment, "You’re both hopeless! Just admit it already. This is too entertaining."

You groan, burying your face in your hands, but there’s no denying it anymore. You’ve got all the feels, and Satoru isn’t about to let you forget it. “Shut up!”

“No!” He snickers back at you, tongue out. 

“I’m telling mom about this!”

“Hey, don’t! Mom’s gonna yell at me!”

The doubt crept in slowly at first. You couldn’t help but notice how different you were from the girls Megumi seemed to glance at from time to time—small, delicate girls, the kind that looked like they belonged in some romantic movie. Girls who were easy to hold, easy to protect. Girls who fit perfectly into that image of what you thought a guy like Megumi might want.

It’s not like you’d caught him staring or anything, but you’d seen the way his eyes lingered on them, just for a second longer than usual. It wasn’t anything obvious, but you noticed—of course, you noticed. And once you did, it was like a seed of doubt planted itself in your mind, growing roots and spreading.

You’re not like that. Not even close.

You’re too loud. Always have been. The kind of loudness that people notice before you even say a word. The one who laughs too hard at jokes, talks over people without meaning to, and fills every silence with something because you hate the quiet. Megumi, though? He thrives in the quiet. His calm, composed presence is so opposite to your own chaotic energy that it feels like a constant reminder of how you could never be his type.

And then there’s the height thing. You’re not sure why it bothers you so much, but it does. You’ve caught yourself slouching a little around him, trying to shrink yourself because standing next to Megumi, you feel like you’re towering over him. You feel awkward, too tall, like you’re out of place in his world of composed strength.

It’s silly, right? He’s not short, not by any means, but standing next to him? It feels like you take up too much space, like you’re the hurricane and he’s the calm in the storm. How could someone like that ever be into someone like you?

And it’s not just your height. It’s everything. You’re messy, clumsy, always blurting out what’s on your mind without thinking. Megumi’s quiet, reserved, the kind of guy who takes his time to process things, to consider every angle. Meanwhile, you’re tripping over your words, interrupting without meaning to, and trying way too hard to fill the silence when you know you should probably just shut up.

You groan inwardly, sinking further into the couch as Satoru continues to tease you, his voice still echoing in your head. "You’re totally catching feels, sis." he had said, laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world. And maybe to him, it is. But to you? It’s terrifying.

Because you know—you know—that you’re not the kind of person Megumi would go for. You’re not the small, delicate girl who looks like she stepped out of a dream. You’re loud, too tall, too much. And even if Megumi’s too polite to say anything, you can’t help but think that deep down, he’s got to notice it too.

Maybe that’s why you’ve been trying to ignore these feelings. They don’t make sense. How could they? You’re so different, and not in a way that balances out. More like in a way that makes you wonder what you’re even doing here, sitting next to him, pretending like you belong.

You risk a glance at Megumi. He’s focused on the TV, his usual thoughtful expression in place. He’s probably not even thinking about you, not the way you’re obsessing over every little detail. And why would he?

Guys like him don’t go for girls like you.

One evening, you found yourself sprawled on the couch, a bowl of popcorn balancing precariously on your stomach as you stared at the ceiling, sighing dramatically for the tenth time in five minutes.

Satoru, who was sitting at the dining table messing with his phone, finally looked up, one eyebrow raised. “Alright, what’s the deal? You’ve been sighing like you’re auditioning for a soap opera. You’ve been out of it for a while.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help a small laugh. “It’s nothing. It’s just… falling in love is so hard.”

Satoru’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Oh? Now we’re talking about love, huh?” He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows like he was about to drop some great wisdom. “Who’s the unlucky guy? Is it Hibari Kyoya this time? Or….well…Jeon Jungkook?”

You groaned and buried your face in the couch pillow. “It’s not about one guy! It’s the whole process. It’s exhausting. Why can’t it just be easy?”

Satoru walked over and plopped down beside you, stealing a handful of your popcorn. “Easy? Love is supposed to be fun. I’m fun, and I’m great at love. What are you doing wrong? Tell big brother, little sis.”

You shot him a death glare, which only made him chuckle. “You make everything sound like a competition. I can’t exactly just… Gojo Satoru my way through love.”

“I mean, you could.” he said, popping a kernel into his mouth. “Have you tried being as charming as me?”

“Oh, please. I am charming!” you said, sitting up and throwing a piece of popcorn at him. “It’s just… ugh, you know what I mean. It’s like every time I like someone, they’re all obsessed with those cute, tiny, delicate girls. And then there’s me.” You gestured at your tall frame with both hands, adding a dramatic flair. “Loud, unignorable, tall-as-a-tree me. Freak of nature, if you will!”

Satoru snorted. “You make it sound like you’re a giraffe or something. And please, you’re hardly a freak of nature. I’m tall and petite all the same.”

“Sometimes it feels like it!” you huffed, crossing your arms. “Do you know how hard it is to casually lean on someone when they’re two heads shorter than you? I could break them!”

“Good point.” Satoru said with mock seriousness. “Being tall and fabulous is clearly a burden.”

You shot him a look. “Don’t patronize me, you’re not helping.”

Satoru laughed and patted your head like you were a puppy. “Come on, what’s wrong with being tall? It’s your thing. Own it. Besides, nothing you can do about Gojo genes. We are tall.”

You sighed again, this time more dramatically. “It’s not just the height, Satoru-nii. It’s everything! The girls guys like are all quiet and soft, and I’m like… a walking megaphone with legs for days.”

Satoru smirked. “First of all, you’re not a megaphone. Maybe a karaoke machine, at worst.”

You threw a cushion at him, but he ducked easily, still grinning. “And second of all,” he continued, “you’re focusing on the wrong stuff. Guys don’t just like small, quiet girls. That’s a myth. Trust me, you just need to find the guy who appreciates that you could easily dunk on him in basketball.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that image. “Oh yeah, super romantic. ‘Hey, babe, let me dunk on you real quick.’”

“Exactly!” Satoru said with a wink. “You’ve got to use what makes you awesome, not hide it. I mean, look at Meg—” He cut himself off, eyes twinkling mischievously. “You know, I thought I was gonna set it aside, maybe you’re too logical about things but….”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you instantly went into defense mode. “W–what about Megumi?”

“Nothing, nothing!” he said, holding up his hands innocently. “Just saying, he’s quiet, and you’re loud. Could be a good balance. You never know…”

You blushed furiously, tossing the rest of your popcorn at him. “Satoru-nii! He’s your student! I can’t just and someone under your care—ugh!”

Satoru laughed like this was the most entertaining thing he’d heard all week. “Hey, all I’m saying is, maybe you’re thinking about this whole ‘falling in love’ thing too hard. Maybe you’re already in love and just don’t know what to do about it. Or maybe….you just don’t want to talk about it, per se.”

You glared at him, but he kept going, grinning like a cat who had caught a mouse. “Besides, if Megumi ever needs someone to keep him grounded, who better than you? You’d definitely shake up his boring, quiet life. He likes color too, you know. He’s just…more somber about it. You know how he is!”

You groaned and flopped back down on the couch, hiding your face again. “I don’t even know if he likes me, okay? He’s probably never looked at me that way before or ever, and I’m just… me. What if he thinks I’m annoying?”

Satoru rolled his eyes dramatically. “Please. Everyone thinks you’re annoying, and they still like you.” He dodged another pillow you threw at him and continued, “Besides, Megumi doesn’t hang out with people unless he likes them. Have you ever seen him willingly spend time with anyone else besides me? Or Kugisaki or Itadori?”

You blinked. That was a good point. Megumi did spend a lot of time with you—more than with most other people. But still…

“You think so?” you mumbled, feeling a glimmer of hope creep in.

Satoru gave you a soft smile—an unusually sincere expression for him. “Yeah, I do. And even if he’s not into it right now, anyone who can’t appreciate you for who you are is an idiot. You’re a catch, even if you do throw pillows like a five-year-old.”

You snorted, wiping at your eyes. “Thanks, I guess?”

“Anytime, little sis!” Satoru said, leaning back and tossing another piece of popcorn into his mouth. “Now, if you’re done complaining, let’s figure out how you can subtly drop-kick your way into Megumi’s heart.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. “I’m not drop-kicking him.”

“Too bad. It would’ve been fun to watch.”

“You’re so annoying, I hate you.”

He grinned. “No you don’t!”

HE WISHED HE WASN’T SUCH A KLUTZ ABOUT THIS. Fushiguro Megumi sat there, staring at his phone screen, his thumb hovering over the “send” button like it was some kind of bomb he wasn’t ready to detonate.

He had typed the message about ten times, erased it nine, and now, here he was, sweating over the tenth. All he needed to do was press send. That’s it. Just one tap, and he’d finally take a step toward telling you how he really felt.

But, as usual, his mind spiraled with doubts.

What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if this ruins everything? What if she’s just being nice to me because of Satoru?

He groaned, running a hand over his face. Why was this so hard? He could face curses, fight dangerous opponents, and handle life-or-death situations without batting an eye. But when it came to you, his brain turned into a tangled mess of uncertainty.

His internal crisis was interrupted by a loud knock on his door.

“Fuuuuuuushiiiiiiiguuuuuuuuroooooo! You in there?” Yuji’s voice rang out cheerfully. Before Megumi could even respond, the door swung open, and Yuji and Nobara barged in, grinning like they had just walked in on something juicy.

“Wha—what are you two doing here?” Megumi stammered, quickly locking his phone and shoving it into his pocket, hoping they hadn’t seen anything.

“Whatcha hiding?” Nobara asked immediately, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. She crossed her arms and gave him a look like she was about to crack a case wide open.

“Nothing.” Megumi said too quickly, which only made Yuji and Nobara more curious.

Yuji flopped onto the bed, making himself at home. “Come on, Fushiguro! You look like you were about to do something important.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Something to do with a girl maybe?”

Megumi felt the tips of his ears go red. “What? No! It’s nothing.”

“Oh my god, he’s blushing!” Nobara exclaimed, smirking like a cat who’d caught a mouse. She nudged Yuji. “You know what that means.”

Yuji nodded sagely. “Yup. It’s definitely about a girl.”

Nobara laughs. “Oh, but not just any girl! You know….Gojo–sensei’s sister?”

“Wait!” Yuji’s eyes widened as Megumi looked away, the blush turning even more bright. “Fushiguro? Gojo–sensei’s sister!?”

Megumi groaned, feeling his face heat up even more. He could never hide anything from these two. It was like they had some kind of embarrassing moment radar. “No, it’s not! Leave it alone already!”

“Aha……” Nobara’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “It’s about Gojo Satoru’s sister, isn’t it? You’re so obvious about this!”

Megumi nearly choked on air. “Wha—no! I mean……” He trailed off, realizing that he was only digging himself deeper into a hole. “It’s not…It’s not what you think it is!”

“Oh my god, it is!” Nobara practically squealed. “You like her, don’t you?”

Yuji was grinning from ear to ear now, thoroughly enjoying Megumi’s suffering. “I knew it! You’re always all flustered around her.”

“I am not flustered. I am not….” Megumi muttered, looking away, which only made him look more flustered. “This is too much from you two!”

“Dude, you are so flustered, right now!” Yuji said, laughing. “It’s okay! You should just tell her how you feel.”

Megumi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not that easy.”

“Why not?” Nobara asked, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “You’re both into each other. I mean, she practically looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky. What’s the problem?”

Megumi blinked, caught off guard. “She… does?”

Nobara rolled her eyes. “Duh. How are you this dense? It’s so obvious! She’s always laughing at your jokes, even when they’re not funny.”

“Hey!” Megumi protested weakly.

“And she’s always finding excuses to be around you,” Yuji added. “Plus, the way she looks at you when she thinks no one’s watching? Come on, man, she’s into you.”

Megumi felt a flicker of hope, but his doubts crept back in. “But what if I’m wrong? What if I ruin things between us?”

Yuji and Nobara exchanged a look before turning back to him.

“Yo, Fushiguro!” Yuji said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You can’t spend your whole life worrying about what ifs. Just tell her. Worst case, things get a little awkward, but knowing her, she won’t let that happen.”

Nobara nodded. “And honestly, with how close you two already are, I’d bet money that she’s waiting for you to make the first move.”

Megumi let their words sink in, the knot of anxiety in his chest loosening just a little. Maybe they were right. Maybe he was overthinking everything. After all, you’d been dropping hints for a while now, hadn’t you? The lingering glances, the way you always seemed to gravitate toward him in a room full of people…

He pulled his phone back out, staring at the unsent message again.

Yuji peeked over his shoulder. “Ooh, you were gonna text her? What’re you waiting for? Send it!”

Nobara nodded eagerly. “Do it, do it, do it!”

With a deep breath, Megumi finally pressed send.

“Hey. Are you free tomorrow? Let’s talk.”

He tossed his phone onto the bed and slumped back against the wall, exhaling like he’d just run a marathon.

Nobara grinned triumphantly. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

“Yeah.” Megumi muttered, though his heart was still racing. Now all he had to do was wait for your reply.

Yuji and Nobara, clearly pleased with themselves, exchanged a high-five. “Mission accomplished!” Yuji declared, grinning.

Megumi rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

The moment Megumi pressed send, his stomach dropped. What had he just done? Now there was no going back. He couldn’t unsend the message, couldn’t take back the quiet confession it represented. All he could do was wait for your response.

Yuji and Nobara were still grinning like a pair of mischievous siblings who had just successfully pulled off a prank. Megumi, on the other hand, was wondering if he should just bury himself in his bed and never come out.

“So….....” Yuji leaned in, his eyes wide with excitement. “What now? You think she’s gonna reply right away? Maybe she’s been waiting for this all along!”

Nobara snickered. “I bet she’s freaking out right now, staring at her phone like, ‘Oh my god, THE Fushiguro Megumi finally texted me to talk. What do I do?!’” She mimicked a dramatic swoon, nearly falling off the chair, which only made Yuji burst out laughing.

“Would you two stop?” Megumi groaned, pulling a pillow over his face in an attempt to block out their teasing. His ears were still burning, and the last thing he needed was them making it worse.

“Come on, man! This is exciting!” Yuji said, playfully tugging the pillow away. “You’ve probably  been into her for ages! Didn’t you guys meet as kids? And now you’re finally doing something about it! You should be happy!”

Megumi peeked out from behind the pillow, his expression somewhere between annoyance and anxiety. “Yeah, or I could be about to make the most embarrassing mistake of my life.”

Nobara rolled her eyes. “Ugh, seriously? You’re not gonna make a mistake, Megumi. Trust me. That girl is totally into you.”

“Yeah. Pretty obvious to us.” Yuji added, “if you could see how she looks at you, you wouldn’t be worrying about this.”

Megumi hesitated, feeling a small flicker of hope again. Could it really be true? Did you look at him the same way he looked at you? He was usually pretty good at reading people, but when it came to you, his emotions seemed to get in the way, clouding his judgment.

His phone buzzed, and all three of them froze.

Yuji’s eyes widened. “That’s her, isn’t it?!”

Nobara practically lunged for the phone. “Open it, open it, open it!”

Megumi’s heart skipped a beat as he grabbed the phone, hands suddenly shaky. He unlocked it, and there it was—your reply.

Hey, yeah, I’m free tomorrow. What’s up?

It was simple, nothing out of the ordinary, but to Megumi, it felt like the weight of the world had just lifted off his shoulders. You didn’t sound nervous or weirded out. You just… replied. As if this was the most normal thing in the world.

He exhaled, not realizing he had been holding his breath.

“Well? What’d she say?” Nobara leaned in, practically on the edge of her seat.

“She said she’s free.” Megumi muttered, trying to sound casual, but the small smile tugging at his lips gave him away.

“Oh, look at him!” Yuji teased, nudging Megumi with his elbow. “He’s smiling! Megumi, man, you’re whipped.”

Megumi shot him a look. “I’m not whipped.”

“Yeah, you are.” Nobara said with a smirk. “And honestly? It’s kinda cute. I never thought I’d see the day when you, of all people, would get all flustered over a girl.”

Megumi rubbed his temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “Can you two go now?”

“Fine, fine.” Nobara stood up, stretching her arms above her head. “But remember, if you mess this up, we’re totally going to say, ‘I told you so.’”

Yuji chuckled, giving Megumi a thumbs-up as they headed for the door. “Good luck, lover boy.”

“Don’t call me that.” Megumi grumbled, but there was no real bite to his words. He was too relieved, too nervous, and, if he was honest with himself, a little excited.

As the door closed behind them, Megumi sat back down on the bed, staring at your message. His heart was still racing, but this time, it wasn’t just from nerves. There was something else—hope. Maybe, just maybe, this would turn out okay.

He typed out a quick response.

Cool. Let’s meet after training? I want to talk.

And with that, he tossed the phone onto the bed again, burying his face in his hands.

What am I even going to say? He had no idea, but tomorrow was coming whether he was ready or not.

Little did he know, you were sitting in your room, staring at your own phone, your heart racing just as fast.

AND SO IT HAPPENED. It was a crisp, sunny afternoon when you found yourself standing under the canopy of sakura trees, the pale pink petals drifting lazily to the ground. Everything about the moment was making you feel queasy, like your stomach was doing flips. Why was this making you feel so sick? Why was your heart pounding like this? You could still feel the heat from your nervous sweat, which only made it worse. How is feeling so much love making you feel like you were going to die? You hated this. You really hated this. 

Your elder brother, Satoru, had this knack for making every situation simultaneously better and worse. Walking beside you, he was grinning like he knew something you didn’t, that classic, cocky smirk plastered across his face.

“Good luck, little sis!” he teased, ruffling your hair like you were a kid. “I’m sure Megumi’s gonna love whatever awkward thing you’re about to say.”

You shot him a glare, your nerves bubbling up with his every word. “You’re not helping.”

“Who said I was trying to help?” He winked, clearly enjoying your suffering. You glared at him. “I’m just here for moral support... and to watch you squirm.”

“Thanks.” you muttered, the sarcasm dripping from your voice.

Satoru laughed, clapping you on the back. “Come on, it’s Megumi. He’s practically family. What’s the worst that could happen? He rejects you? Nah, you’ll be fine.”

you wished your brother didn’t have Infinity, just so you could land a good punch on him. Now, standing there, nerves making you feel like backing out entirely, you glanced at him one more time.

To your surprise, his teasing smirk faded, replaced with concern. "Hey, hey, don’t cry!" He waved his hands in front of you frantically. "I was joking! I didn’t mean to make you upset."

"It wasn’t funny!" you snapped, blinking rapidly as the threat of tears welled up. Why did he always have to push your buttons?

Satoru looked genuinely worried for a second, which was rare. "Okay, okay, listen..." His tone softened, a little less of that cocky edge. "If Megumi doesn’t like you back, that’s okay. There’s plenty of people who will love you better, alright? Genuinely."

You sniffed, still feeling that tight knot of anxiety in your chest. "Yeah, right."

"I mean it," he insisted, stepping closer and placing a hand on your shoulder. “Your good ol' big brother is one of them, okay? You’ll always be loved, doll. You’ve got me, forever. No one’s ever gonna change that.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes but feeling a bit better, even if his logic was as goofy as always. "Still doesn’t make this any less terrifying, you know."

Satoru chuckled, ruffling your hair again. "Well, if all else fails, you can come hide behind me. Infinity’s good for that too, you know!"

By the time he finally left you alone, after throwing in one last, “Don’t mess it up, though!” you were already sweating. Actually sweating. Harder than ever before.

"Great. Just great." you grumbled to yourself, imagining all the possible ways this could go wrong. “Love sucks! This sucks!”

But sooner or later, you knew you would have to face it. And so you waited for Megumi. You waited patiently as you created stupid little scenarios in your head — things that shouldn’t even be. 

And after about fifteen minutes, here you were, facing Fushiguro Megumi, your heart pounding so loudly you were certain he could hear it. He stood a few feet away, hands buried deep in his pockets, staring intently at the ground as though it held the answers to life’s greatest mysteries.

Is he nervous too? you wondered. Somehow, that thought gave you the slightest sense of relief, but only for a fleeting moment. The truth was, you hadn’t been able to focus on anything since this morning, and now that you were actually standing in front of him, the anxiety was threatening to spill over.

Megumi’s hair, slightly ruffled by the breeze, caught your attention. His gaze remained fixed downward, his usual calm, almost brooding expression in place, but something about the way his shoulders were tense told you he wasn’t as composed as he seemed.

"I…" You started, your voice catching in your throat. Great, now you are losing your nerve.

Megumi’s eyes flickered toward you, his expression unreadable but curious. He waited, his silence urging you to continue, even though the words seemed to have tangled themselves up inside your head.

You tried again, taking a small breath, "I don’t really know how to say this without sounding like an idiot."

He shifted slightly, his eyes finally lifting to meet yours. “You’re not an idiot.” he said softly, though the hint of amusement in his voice wasn’t lost on you. “You aren’t one. Never…never have been.”

He looked… nervous? Which made you feel a little better, since you were pretty sure you’d forgotten how to breathe about five minutes ago.

Alright, you thought, trying to psych yourself up. You’re just going to confess. It’s simple. People do it all the time! You can do this. It’s Megumi—your Megumi.

Except now that you were actually standing in front of him, your brain decided to throw you a curveball. What if… what if he doesn’t like tall, petite girls?

You winced at the thought. Megumi was tall and handsome, and here you were, small, like a walking marshmallow. What if he preferred someone else, someone who needs his help? Does he like girls who seem to be more dependent on him? What if he liked girls with long, model-like legs? Wait, I don’t have those sort of legs! I have an athlete’s legs, but thinner! Oh my god…I, am I his type? Or worse, what if you were just a friend to him?

Before you knew it, words were tumbling out of your mouth.

“Um… Megumi?” you started, your voice way too high-pitched to sound cool. “There’s something I need to say.”

Megumi glanced up at you, his eyes narrowing slightly in that focused way he had. Your face felt like it was on fire. “Yeah?” he said, his tone casual but with a hint of curiosity.

You hesitated, suddenly regretting every decision you’d made that day. But you couldn’t back out now. You were already knee-deep in awkwardness.

“I know I’m, like… not like all the other girls or anything. Not to mention, I'm loud and awkward and just....” You winced as you said it. You feel your cheeks getting redder by the second. “And maybe… maybe you like taller girls or maybe more chic girls? Like, you know, girls with long model legs who look good in anything. Or at least girls who don’t have to deal with….you know, I….I don’t know. But I just….”

Megumi blinked at you, his eyes widening slightly as the words sunk in. For a moment, you thought you’d really messed up—like he might just walk away or start laughing. But then, something unexpected happened.

His face turned an alarming shade of red, and he blurted, “W-What? No! That’s not— I don’t care about any of that!” His voice cracked slightly, and you could tell he was flustered. Megumi. Flustered. Your heart did a weird little flip at that.

“I like you… exactly how you are. I don’t care if you have…if you have athlete legs and not model legs.” he said, quieter this time, as if saying it any louder would somehow make it harder for him. His eyes darted to the side, but you could see the sincerity there. “I… don’t care if you’re short or tall or… whatever.” His blush deepened as he added, “You’re… perfect.”

It took a second for your brain to catch up to what he was saying. Wait—he thought you were perfect? Did you… did you hear that right?

You opened your mouth, but all you managed was a strangled, “Oh.” Which was, you know, super eloquent. Good job, me.

Megumi shifted on his feet, still avoiding your gaze. “I thought…” he started, his voice so low you almost didn’t catch it, “that you didn’t like me because I’m… well, you know.” He made a vague gesture with his hand.

You stared at him, confused. “Because you’re… what?”

His expression was a mixture of embarrassment and frustration, like he really didn’t want to explain, but felt like he had to. “Because I’m… brooding. I’m not…I know I’m not the most fun of people to be around. And I just….I know it’s also hard to talk to me. And I'm way too quiet, I don't talk for hours sometimes.” he muttered. He cleared his throat and added. “I’m not exactly the most… open or easygoing person. I figured you’d probably want someone who’s more… fun.”

You blinked. “Fun? Megumi, you think I don’t like you because you’re… broody?”

He shrugged, still looking like he wanted to disappear into the nearest bush. “I mean… yeah.”

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing. Megumi’s eyes snapped back to you, looking completely baffled, as if he hadn’t expected that reaction at all.

“No way!” you said, still giggling as you wiped a tear from your eye. “That’s one of the things I like about you!”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Wait… what?”

“You’re serious and quiet!” you explained, your heart softening as you looked at him. “But you’re also kind. And you care so much about everyone, even if you don’t show it the way other people do. I think it’s…” you swallowed, suddenly shy again, “...really cute, actually.”

Megumi’s expression softened in a way that made your chest ache. He looked like he didn’t quite believe what he was hearing but was too relieved to question it. "Oh."

"Yeah...."

“So… you like me?” he asked, his voice a little hesitant, like he was afraid the answer might change if he said it out loud.

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up again. “Yeah… I do.”

There was a beat of silence where neither of you moved, both too flustered to figure out what came next. The sakura petals continued to fall around you, and for a moment, it felt like you were in a scene straight out of a cheesy romance.

“And you… like me?” you ventured, your heart thumping hard.

Megumi looked away, rubbing the back of his neck, but you could see the tiniest smile playing on his lips. “Yeah.” he muttered. “A lot.”

You stood there for a while, both of you blushing like tomatoes, staring at anything but each other. But somehow, despite the awkwardness, it felt perfect—like you’d finally figured out what had been right in front of you all along.

“Maybe we should, um… go get something to eat?” you suggested, trying to break the tension before you spontaneously combusted from embarrassment.

“Yeah.” Megumi agreed, a little too quickly. “Food. Good idea.”

You started walking, side by side, still too nervous to hold hands or do anything couple-like, but grinning like idiots who’d finally realized how much you liked each other. You'll be okay, together.

epilogue

The café near Jujutsu High was cozy, with soft lighting and the faint hum of conversations from other patrons filling the space. Megumi and I sat across from each other, still awkward but smiling. The post-confession giddiness hadn’t worn off, and every now and then, our eyes would meet, followed by a quick blush and looking away.

I nervously poked at my dessert with my fork, stealing glances at Megumi, who was doing a pretty good job pretending to focus on his coffee. I should say something, I thought, but before I could open my mouth, a loud, familiar voice shattered the peaceful atmosphere.

"Well, well, well! What do we have here? My adorable little sister and Fushiguro Megumi! On a date! How cute!"

I whipped my head around, and there he was—Gojo Satoru, in all his obnoxiously tall, grinning glory, standing at the entrance of the café like he owned the place. His trademark sunglasses were perched on his nose, and he had his phone in hand, ready for whatever chaos he was about to unleash.

Megumi groaned and slouched down in his seat, his face flushing a deep shade of red. "Why are you here?"

"Oh, just taking a casual stroll around campus when I happened to spot you two. And, being the fantastic older brother I am, I couldn’t resist stopping by to see what’s going on."

I sighed, knowing full well this was about to get much worse. "Satoru-nii…please don’t."

But Gojo Satoru was already snapping pictures of us with his phone, zooming in obnoxiously on both of our embarrassed faces. “Oh, these are perfect. You both look so adorable! I can’t wait to send these to Yuji, Nobara, and the rest of the gang.”

Megumi’s hand shot up in protest. “Stop—”

Too late. Gojo Satoru’s fingers flew over his phone screen as he quickly shared the photos. I could already imagine the messages popping up in the group chat: Yuji losing his mind with excitement, Nobara teasing Megumi, and the second and third years chiming in with their own commentary.

“Satoru-nii!” I whisper-shouted, trying to keep my voice low enough not to draw the attention of the other café-goers. “You promised no embarrassing photos!”

Gojo just grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “Hey, you didn’t say anything about dates. Besides, this is for posterity. Your first date with the brooding Megumi! Awww, it’s like watching a baby deer trying to walk for the first time. My future brother in law and my sister’s first date! Oh this will be cute in the wedding powerpoint!”

Megumi looked like he wanted to crawl under the table, and honestly, I wasn’t too far behind. I glanced at him, feeling bad for dragging him into this chaos. “Gojo–sensei, we aren’t….That’s not—”

“Say cheese!”

But then, something unexpected happened. Maybe it was Gojo’s teasing, or maybe it was just the ridiculousness of the whole situation, but I felt a sudden surge of boldness. I scooted my chair a little closer to Megumi, leaned into him slightly, and—just to spite Satoru—rested my head on his shoulder.

Megumi stiffened at first, his body going rigid in surprise, but after a second, I felt him relax. He glanced down at me, and despite his still-flushed cheeks, there was a soft smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t say anything, but the way he subtly leaned into me in return spoke volumes.

Gojo, of course, gasped dramatically. “Ohhhh! Look at you two! All cozy now! This is too precious, I’m dying.”

“You’re gonna be dying for real if you don’t stop.” Megumi muttered, though he didn’t sound as angry as he usually did. He seemed…happy, even if he wouldn’t admit it. And honestly, that made me smile too.

Gojo, ever the drama queen, pretended to clutch his heart. “My little Megumi, all grown up and in love! My precious little sister, grown and down bad! This is truly a day to remember.” He took another picture, but at this point, I didn’t care. Neither did Megumi.

After what felt like an eternity of Gojo’s teasing, he finally waved us off with a laugh. “Alright, alright, I’ll leave you lovebirds to it. But don’t think I’m letting this go anytime soon! I expect wedding invites, you hear me?”

He sauntered out of the café, phone still in hand, leaving us in peace once again.

I let out a long sigh of relief, finally able to relax. “I’m sorry about him. He’s… well, he’s Satoru.”

Megumi shook his head, still leaning into me a little. “It’s fine. I’m used to it by now.”

We sat there quietly for a moment, neither of us moving. Despite the embarrassment, I felt a sense of warmth spreading through my chest. Leaning into Megumi, feeling the weight of his shoulder against mine, it was nice. Comforting.

I looked up at him and saw that soft smile again. He wasn’t embarrassed anymore—he looked…content. Maybe even a little happy.

“You know.......” I said, my voice quiet, smiling. “I think this might be the best date ever.”

Megumi glanced down at me, and for the first time that day, he chuckled softly. “Yeah… I think so too.”

[kyracooneyx23]

odio amarte

Alexia Putellas x Lionesses!reader

summary: All of your Barca teammates think you and Alexia need to get together, but the two of you are 'enemies'.

(i do not speak much Spanish, so if some of my translations are wrong I apologise!)

a/n: not proof read or edited and very short

'What is wrong with you Alexia!' You exclaim when the Spanish girl spills her cup of coffee all over the table, the brown liquid smudging your notes that you had been working on forever.

She looks up to you and sends you a dirty glare. 'It's not my fault that you've taken up the whole table with your stupid homework meaning I had no where to put my cup.' She snaps back gesturing to the mess you had created everywhere.

'You could've just asked me to move some stuff.' You tell her sighing as you try to make out the messed up words. 'Or do I scare you to much?' You tease a small smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

'¿alguna vez te callaste?' (do you ever shut up?) she mutters walking away into the kitchen leaving you alone to try and clean up her mess.

No one really knew why you and Alexia despised each other so much, some of the fans thought it was because Alexia was scared that you would replace her on the team and others would make up crazy rumours that were definitely untrue.

You're teammates didn't have a clue and to be fair neither did you. You hated Alexia because she had always been mean to you, and you had no idea why. If you were entirely honest you didn't really hate the girl, you often found yourself enjoying the attention she gave to you whenever you two were arguing.

After a while of rewriting your notes you placed them all in a neat pile and stood up stretching your back. You're teammates had left to go to the shops about an hour ago, leaving you and Alexia home alone together. They were meant to be back soon but you still had some time to kill and decided to do one of your favourite things.

Annoying Alexia.

You wonder into the living room of your and Keira's shared apartment, sitting on the armchair next to the couch where Alexia was already sitting, her eyes glued to her phone.

The Spaniard hated it when you would bite your teeth, a nasty habit you often found yourself absentmindedly doing.

This time however, you purposely starting chewing on your nails. Pretending to stare out the window, when in reality you were staring at the blonde girl on your couch, a grin forming on your face when she noticed your actions and her jaw tensed.

Her mouth stayed shut though, not wanting to give you the reaction you clearly wanted.

Alexia had not known you for very long, but in the time you had been teammates at Barca your relationship had been rocky to say the least.

She was entirely to blame for your constant bickering, she was the one who hadn't even bothered being nice when you'd approached her on your first training session.

Alexia did feel bad for how rude she had been to you, but once she had began and you had retaliated she couldn't back down and seem like a coward in front of you.

That would be humiliating.

On your first day, Alexia was late, but you'd immediately caught her attention. You'd only been there for a few hours but you already seemed so comfortable talking with all the girls like you'd known them for ages.

You'd already had Alexia hooked and she didn't like that. She didn't like the way that her heart would race whenever you laughed or the way she'd look in the mirror to checked how she looked whenever you walked closer.

In all honesty she was scared of her feelings.

She felt like a stranger in her own body, completely foreign to all the feelings she was experiencing.

She'd never felt this way before for someone she'd only just met.

It didn't seem like it at all. But those feelings had stuck with her for almost a year and a half now.

She hid it behind every insult and eye roll. She'd blame it on her anger whenever her cheeks flushed red at something you did.

But the Spanish captain was still yet to react to your nail biting, which was unusual for her, and you're nails were beginning to bleed from biting them for too long.

Disappointed in the result, you decided not to back down just yet, starting to make clicking noises with your tongue knowing that it always drove Alexia crazy.

It only took a few seconds for her turn around and face you. 'I know what you're trying to do and it's not going to work.' She snaps making you grin as your plan had worked.

'Are you sure about that?' You tease, making her roll her eyes and huff as you begin clicking your tongue even more.

'odio amarte!' (i hate that i love you) she groans hands flying up to her hair.

All of a sudden your clicking stops and your whole face burns bright red. You didn't know a lot of Spanish as you sucked at learning languages but you'd learnt quite a bit from just hanging out with the other girls.

You thought you hadn't heard her right. Surely she wouldn't say something like that right? You must've translated it all wrong.

Alexia had noticed the way you'd frozen up and how a light blush painted your cheeks.

'Alexia?' You questioned, voice weak and quiet not quite processing what she had just said. 'Why did you say that?'

Her eyes widened and all of a sudden the normally cool and composed Spanish captain felt sick. She was so used to muttering stuff in Spanish around you that she'd forgotten you actually did know a fair bit.

'Nothing.' She said but it didn't matter, you both knew exactly what she had said and now all insults were long gone, instead you sat in an awkward silence.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to take a big risk; 'Do you mean it?'

Alexia didn't know how to respond, she couldn't really say that no, but she also didn't want to confess the truth.

'I-I guess...' She stutters her cheeks permanently pink. 'I guess that I do.'

You were in shock for a while not knowing how to respond.

Alexia didn't know what to do either. She don't know what made her get up from her seat and do the one thing she never thought she'd do.

She kissed Y/N L/N...

'I keep finding new ways to stuff up don't I?' Alexia sighed when she pulled away from the kiss.

'No.' You say, putting your fingers up to her lip. 'You didn't.'

'I didn't what?' Alexia says shocked, looking at you with wide eyes. Not believing what you had just said.

'You didn't mess up.' You said sternly, placing your hand on her shoulders and looking at her in the eyes 'Not even a little bit.'

'You sure?' Alexia asks you, looking down and biting her lip in nervousness.

'I think I'm sure.' You say, a small and nervous smile on your face. 'As long as you don't regret doing it.'

'I don't' Alexia exclaimed a little too loudly causing you to move a little bit away from her due to the loudness of her voice.

'I'm sorry.' She said, laughing awkwardly and rubbing the back of her head.

'Don't worry about it.' You smile a small laugh also escaping from your lips.

'No really I'm sorry.' Alexia says, her mood changing to much more serious 'I'm sorry for being a dickhead for the past year, I shouldn't have been that rude to you.'

'I mean, I was rude as well, you're not the only one at fault here.' You laugh lightly.

'No, you were only like that because I didn't give you a proper chance and I'm sorry.' She says, looking genuinely sad.

_______

Meanwhile, Keira, Lucy, Ingrid and Mapi were all walking home from the shops together. Mapi slower than the others as she had been forced to carry all the bags.

'I wonder how Y/n and Alexia are?' Keira wonders, everyone knowing how much you to argue. 'Probably wasn't the best idea to leave the two of them alone together.'

'y/n/n had uni work and Alexia said she'll stay and make sure she's alright.' Lucy states 'Half the time I can't tell if they're fighting or flirting, it's kind of funny. I wonder who'll make the first move.'

'Let's just hope they're not at each others throats again. I hate when they fight.' Ingrid sighs, taking a bag of Mapi after noticing her struggling.

'I agree, when they fight they're one step away from getting together. I don't think I can handle anymore of their longing stares at each other when they think no one is looking. The two of them cause most of my stress now.' Keira sighs, shaking her head.

The English midfielder sticks her key into the lock of your shared apartment when the four footballers arrive opening the door and walking in.

They all make their way to the living room. Absolutely nothing prepared them for what they were about to see.

Sitting on the couch, Alexia Putellas and Y/N L/N were at each others throats. But not in the fighting way. Keira choked on her own saliva in shock, Lucy and Ingrid gasped and Mapi just yelled.

'¡mis ojos!' (my eyes) Mapi exclaimed, startling you and Alexia causing you to pull away from each other. Blushes covering both of your faces.

'Surprise?' You say sheepishly.

part 2?

sorry this isn't the best