#can't believe i have to write that but better safe than sorry

[carisa-ironfell]

If you're going to church just for the "sermon" and want to get pissy about getting "lectured" instead, you're not actually listening to what's being said (or your pastor isn't saying the right things) and you definitely aren't going to church for the right reasons. It's just autopilot at that point, just a pointless ritual that doesn't mean anything. And I know this from experience because that's WHY I stopped going to church. I wasn't getting anything useful out of it, and the environment was taxing my mental health instead of helping me heal. I wasn't growing, I was just miserable and angry and bitter.

The point of church, as I've always understood it ever since I was little, is to connect with the other members of your community and help each other learn and grow and continuously become better people, to follow Jesus' teachings and LOVE people. You go to church to LEARN, and when needed, to be guided back to the right path by your pastor and/or your peers. That's literally their job. For example, most of Paul's writings. (Paraphrased: Y'all are acting crazy, stop doing that. Here's how to fix it.)

You don't have to agree with others' choices in order to love them, and something that a LOT of Christians seem to miss is: if you're not getting through to someone and you can't change their mind, let it go. The seed is planted, and there's a chance that years down the line, God will speak to that person and they'll be ready to listen. Shouting in their face (literally or figuratively) is only going to make them get defensive and shut down and push that time further away.

Anyway. No one who claims to be Christian or any kind of servant of God should be rejoicing in mass slaughter. And I've had to listen to "Christians" rant about how great and amazing the nightmare in Palestine and other Middle Eastern conflicts are, and it makes me sick. Whether you agree with them or not, people don't deserve to die like that. And if there's a member of a church who tries to implore the president to do something positive about that whole disaster, don't get pissed off with them, because they seem to understand the teachings better than you do.

I don't really consider myself Christian. I want nothing to do with that (generalized) group of people, because I have yet to meet any of them who make sense to me and can help me grow. I believe in God, I do my best to act in ways that reflects Him, but until the church starts shaping up and actually behaving with love and compassion instead of hatred, I'm not involving myself with them. It's dismal to watch and it makes my heart ache. And I can only imagine God probably feels the same way in a lot of cases.

I wasn't expecting to say this much ._. Uhh, sorry if anyone actually reads this lol Be safe and well! With love, Reggie 🤍

The lack of self-awareness is truly astounding.

[st4ytiny]

Cause I don't wanna be in love with another, even in another life

AN: I'm having ateez and stray kids brainrot rn. Rewatching all of skz code and wanteez... LORDDDD IM LEGIT SOBBING I LOVE THEM ALL <33333

Mentions of soft San, fluff with a sligth slice of angst and implied nsfw. Mostly teeth rotting fluff, self indulgent (sorry not sorry)

Sannie who is the kindest guy you've ever met. Many think he's tough and mean, but once you get to know him a bit more, he's actually just a ball of sunshine. He's warm, comforting, gentle, nurturing and healing. Somehow he always has something to say no matter your problem. He has the most gentle touches. Jokes and laughter is also a big part of your time together. He enjoys having his hair played with while he reads. Head in your lap while you do random stuff.

Sannie who loves poetry and loves writing for you. Even if he doesn't have the courage to show it to you. I feel like he's the type of boyfriend to leave you notes around the house with words he can't say in person. The type of boyfriend to crush on his partner, who goes above and beyond to make you feel better if life is shitty atm. He enjoys being your safe haven and feels safe being with you. The boyfriend who can't handle alcohol so whenever you two are out, at an event or dinner with his group, he ends up taking care of you. If he is drinking I have a feeling he's gonna end up in your lap, clinging onto you for dear life. (I feel like he cries alot when he's drunk? THAT ONE TIME HE GOT SCARED BY THE MEMBERS IN THAT WANTEEZ EP. AND CRIED. I LITERALLY SOBBED, MY SANNIE)

Sannie who needs a stong bond to the people he surrounds himself with. I feel like he's attracted to individuals who are older than him. Preferably if you enjoy working out, being outside or is a bit of a nerd. Love has no boundraries for him though. He likes feeling like he's stronger than you, just because he likes being protective. Even though you both know who's gonna be ordering for you two. He is the type of guy to act intimidating if someone approaches you when you're on a date. Then afterwards he's gonna be like "Woah, did I look intimidating just now?", "Woah, Hyung/Noona didn't I look totally badass?" (SOBBING I NEED A BF LIKE HIM, SORRY THIS IS SO SELF INDULGENT)

Sannie who loves being praised for small things. He thives of being helpful for you. ESPECIALLY IF HE IS TALLER THAN YOU. He enjoys watching you while doing the most mundane things. He enjoys the smell that your parfume leaves in the bathroom, or the fog on the mirror. He enjoys seing your favorite colour next to his favorite colour when he's out shopping. Sends you pictures of it with "This is us" attatched to it. I don't feel like gift giving is is biggest love language. BUT i do think he's the type of guy to give you a pretty rock because he thought about you when he saw it.

Sannie who gets stressed and insecure easily. Reassurance is important in your relationship. As well as gentle reminders that you think he is the awesomest. Joking around with him when he's stressed is something that makes him let go of the tension in his shoulders. He loves just sinking into your warm touches at the end of the day. When he's touring or busy, he forces wooyoung to cuddle him while he wants to cry because you're not there. If you're an idol aswell, i believe San would cheer you on alot. He'd be so proud whenever he saw you absolutely devour the stage. You two might also write lyrics/poetry together.

Sannie who can be rough when it comes to being intimate. But when he's stressed, exhausted, sad or insecure, he definatly enjoys you being soft, praising him and a tiny bit of body worship. He likes having his hair played with and i have a feeling that his some of his sweet spots are his arms, neck and thighs/calfs?? I don't know. He likes recieving but also giving. Definatly soft dom leaning though.

Songs I listened to DIMPLE - BTS, HURT - NEW JEANS, HEAVY - THE MARIAS, VAMPIRE EMPIRE - BIG THIEF, HEAVENLY - C.A.S

[snickerdoodleinhell]

What a silly uncle he is

[5sospenguinqueen]

Bedtime Stories | Daniel Ricciardo x Author! Reader

Summary: For the past six years, you've been dreaming of a future with Daniel. Until one silly little interview shatters every illusion.

Warnings: Swearing. Angst. Baby fever. End of a relationship. Daniel bashing.

Female reader with various faceclaims. Takes place in the 2022 season.

Main Masterlist

next.

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User 2 no, it's not an announcement. her best friend is currently pregnant and she was gushing about looking forward to aunty duties

User 3 omg her and daniel would make the cutest babies though

→ User 4 i bet she can't wait until they have their own mini-me

User 5 imagine our rom-com queen going from writing the cutest but filthiest fiction imaginable to writing about why you should eat your carrots

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22•05•22

User 6 i can't believe this man was talking about being in the height of his career when he's been nothing but a flop since leaving red bull

User 7 the way he's been stringing this poor woman along for 6 years, knowing how badly she wants children, to then decide in a random interview that he's never going to have kids because they would be a 'distraction'

User 8 fans spotted y/n running from the pits once she saw that daniel was safely done with racing

User 9 i fear we may be witnessing the downfall of something we once held sacred

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16•06•22

fallontonight just posted

liked by YourUserName, kellypiquet and others

fallontonight did you know @ YourUser Name was once chased by a kangaroo? find out how in tonight's episode of The Tonight Show 📚🦘

4,477 comments

YourUserName thanks for having me! ✨

User 11 excuse me, ma’am, reassess what

User 12 daniel has been absent from her last 3 posts

→ User 1 not even in the likes or comments

→ User 2 and he didn't even congratulate her on the recent book launch

→ User 3 ya’ll are reaching. he's busy racing. she's busy doing book promo. they still follow each other

User 4 anyone notice she didn't look as happy as she usually does

→ User 5 yes! and i swear she got teary when talking about her life plans 🥺

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YourUserName just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, mclaren and others

YourUserName my happy place 🌊🐚🦀 Aug '22

4,990 comments

User 6 does this mean a new book is coming soon

→ User 7 girl, we’ve just had one. let the woman rest

→ YourUserName sorry, my lovelies but i don’t think i'm in the right headspace to being right a romance novel at this time

→ User 6 confirmation??!?!

→ User 7 we’re children of divorce

→ User 8 honestly fuck those two because i couldn’t have cared less about vroom vroom boys until mother started dating one and now i'm crying in class ‘cause they’re over

landonorris get that bread, queen 🍞

→ YourUserName who let you out of daycare

→ User 9 not y/n and lando interacting like she didn’t break his teammates heart

→ User 10 more like his teammate broke y/n’s heart. let's not make daniel out to be the victim here

kellypiquet p said get writing those children’s books so she can brag about aunty y/n to her friends

→ YourUserName my sweet girl. i saw the cutest dress the other day for her so I’ll pop round soon x

→ User 11 i love their friendship

→ User 12 get this woman a child. She’s too sweet to be stuck in cool aunt mode forever

User 13 anyone notice she didn't do her annual birthday post for daniel?

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04•09•22

User 14 no because the interviewer was so real for that. checo has a few children and he’s currently 2nd best. max is nowhere to be seen on the grid he's that far ahead and he makes sure p is his priority when she’s there so???

→ User 15 and the way he stormed out. i bet PR are sooo happy with him

User 16 nah because mclaren recently announced that they’re not extending his contract so he currently doesn't have his seat and doesn't have his y/n, all because he thought he was better than that

YourUserName posted a new story

danielricciardo posted a new story

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danielricciardo just posted

liked by landonorris, estebanocon and others

danielricciardo yesterday was something. p17 wasn't the result we were expecting, and the media were a challenge but it's always a delight to be in Suzuka. Moving on to the Americas

5,509 comments

User 1 maybe if y/n was there, you wouldn't have done so badly

User 2 maybe if he had a baby waiting in the paddock he would’ve had more incentive to do better

mclaren we’ll get them next time 💪

User 3 letting mclaren and lando down

→ User 4 the real reason he and y/n broke up is because he has no wins. she should move onto lando or something

→ User 5 he’s way too young for her

→ User 4 they'd make a good looking couple tho

(comments have been disabled for this post)

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19•10•22

YourUserName just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, bloomsburypublishing and others

YourUserName thirty, flirty and thriving. please enjoy a small snippet of my 30th birthday, organised by my favourite girl. these are the nice moments before she plies me full of cocktails and i become the sloppiest person in monaco tagged: kellypiquet

kellypiquet any chance to celebrate you 🤍🤍

→ kellypiquet and an even better chance to drink the entire bar and force max to carry us home

→ maxverstappen1 i'm just glad i was able to pull you both out of the sea before you drowned

landonorris can't believe you tried (and failed) to stop us from gatecrashing

→ YourUserName it was an exclusive event, we don't let randos in

→ landonorris i know you're joking but it still hurts my feelings

maxverstappen1 happy birthday, sloppy. you don't look a day over 40

→ YourUserName i'm gonna let that slide but only because i love the bag that kelly told you to buy

User 7 happy birthday to the best author

User 8 happy birthday queen

carlossainz55 happy birthday, y/n 💐

liked by YourUserName

danielricciardo happy birthday x

User 5 kelly and y/n look like the funnest people to hang out with

→ User 6 literally need to know how to become part of their duo

lewishamilton happy birthday, y/n. have a lovely night 💕

liked by YourUserName

mclaren happy birthday to papaya's favourite author (we're still waiting for a racing rom-com that is quite clearly about your favourite f1 team and their super sexy admin) 🥳🥳

liked by YourUserName

Request are open!

Baby Fever Angst Series

[livelaughloveluffy]

Hiiiiii!!! I love ur writing :DDD

can I request a fic where reader is gender neutral and they always are super happy/hyper about seeing their boyfriend (monster trio) but they are quiet around others and super adorbs :)

oki thank u if u do get around to writing this :) <3

(I am feral for one piece men) 😭😭

shy reader with monster trio

a/n: thank you so much for your ask!!! i'm so sorry it took me so long to get around to, i've been buried in a bunch of drafts and busy with finals and finally remembered how long some of these requests have been sitting in my inbox 😭😭😭 i'm so happy to hear that you enjoy my work!! hopefully i do some justice to your request!!

a/n: again, i'm so so sorry for how long this took but i had lots of fun writing this!!

nothing but fluff here 💗

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monkey d. luffy

-luffy isn't the most observant people when it comes to social cues, so for awhile he didn't exactly notice how shy you were around the rest of the crew. the captain is a very busy man, and with his short attention span it wasn't often that he gets completely focused on just watching you from afar.

-when he really thought about it, he always pictured you with a wide bright smile on your face. your body practically vibrating with excitement whenever you say his name. it was hard for him to imagine you any other way.

-luffy only noticed after you were telling him a story at breakfast time, animated and giggling, suddenly become shy and soft spoken when one of the other crew members chirped up to ask you a question. his mouth full with food, watching as you diverted eye contact, lowered your voice, and bashfully answered.

-he'll immediately point it out once he notices. luffy practically chokes on his food, gasping as he shouts out "since when are you shy?!" you explain to him after breakfast that you were always shy, but somehow just not around him. he's so excited that he's the special person to bring you out of your shell, peppering your face with kisses as he tells you how adorable that is.

black leg sanji

-unlike the captain, sanji notices this trait of yours immediately. and he can't help but find it adorable. when he's not busy in the kitchen or directly spending time with you, sanji loves to just watch you do your own thing, whether that's hanging out with other members of the crew, reading on the deck, practicing combat, or anything in between.

-so when he's approaching you and robin to offer some afternoon beverages while you read, the sound of your voice, which was softer than usual, stands out to him. when the two of you are together, you're confident, not afraid to loudly proclaim in what you believe. so imagine his shock and surprise to see you meekly address your thoughts on the novel you and robin were discussing.

-seeing this other side of you is a happy surprise for sanji, and a sight he savors and commits to memory. he'll definitely bring it up later when it's just the two of you, curiosity getting the better of him.

-when you finally explain to him "i've always been pretty shy, sanji. there's just something about you that makes it so much easier to not be." sanji is so honored to be a safe space for you to be yourself, he'll kiss you on the forehead and reply "i'm happy to help, mon amour."

roronoa zoro

-he would notice instantly, but wouldn't really bring it up. zoro is the type of guy to really pay attention to his significant other. always watching them from afar, silently paying attention to their little quirks and taking note of them.

-zoro loves to sneak up on your in conversations, silently watching you while you don't notice his presence. watching as his usually bubbly partner is shy and soft-spoken without him. he'll walk over to you, putting his arm around your shoulder or on top of your head, and make some playful teasing comment about it.

-sometimes he gets a little surprised when he sees you get nervous, because he's so used to seeing you so open and honest with him, unashamed, and so utterly proud of yourself. zoro definitely makes a point to praise you and build up your self esteem. he really loves watching it pay off and slowly grow confident without him.

-zoro loves every single side of you, he has no preference to whether or not you're a bit shy. as long as you're happy and comfortable, so is he. zoro is also super good at meeting you where you are, being able to match your own vibe with ease.

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tags ♡: @3v37773 @irethepotato @dindjarins1ut @dreamcastgirl99 @acesdiary @beansluvsmilo @erose-0707 @vamphoria @twiishaa @peachycat17 @sanji-soup @lilypadmomentum @ermbehindyou @erose-0707 @suga-tofu @thepotatocatto;

want to join the taglist? click here!!

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

[mydadleft471]

A Brief Respite

Summary: Something is bothering Messmer. Even if you can't fix what's wrong, you can show him how much you care for him.

Spoilers for both Elden Ring and Shadow of the Erdtree. No warnings, just tooth-rotting fluff for my favorite boi.

MESSMER LOVERS, I AM BACK!!!

Sorry for the radio silence! I was on vacation (which was so nice btw) and I got back and hammered this baby out! I missed writing for Messmer sm. Anywho, thank you to the genius @manitscold for the idea for this fic! If there's any other ideas for fics, please let me know!

Please enjoy and realize that ye olde English is a pain in the ass.

You awake early in the morning to sunlight streaming in through your window.

You rub your eyes and clumsily push the plush red comforter embroidered with Messmer’s insignia back and ease out of your bed. Per usual, the servants at the Shadow Keep had catered to your every need, and your breakfast was already sitting on the table in your quarters. You truly believe you get better service than Messmer himself.

He had always treated you well even before he began courting you, but now, he showers you with the finest gifts he can find. Beautiful embroidered dresses, specifically tailored for you, flawless gemstones, rich wines, and sturdy armor sets were all left for you in your private quarters. You live quite comfortably here.

He has also ensured your protection. His most trusted guards stand watch outside your quarters, day and night, and you are allowed to carry your weapon freely around the castle. You don’t really need your weapon much, as Messmer prefers to personally guard you whenever possible. You have never felt more safe. His presence is comforting and warm.

Lately, though, you haven’t seen him as much. Perhaps a battle went horribly wrong, or he’s sick. You don’t know, but whenever he is around, he seems like something is troubling him. He doesn’t speak as often and he remains closed-off, even from you.

You were, hopefully, going to remedy that today. You requested various flowers, bath salts, and oils from Castle Ensis, and they had finally arrived. You were going to make him relax, no matter what. 

Dressed in a fine dress made of red velvet with glimmering gold accents and with a satchel filled to the brim with salts, petals, and soaps, you begin to make your way to Messmer’s chamber. Servants bow their heads in reverence to you as you pass, and you greet two Fire Knights as you approach Messmer’s door. Not unusual, but today they’re standing directly in front of the door rather than off to the sides.

“Good morning. I wish to see Lord Messmer.” 

The right guard bows his head and replies solemnly. “My Lady, Sir Messmer has requested to not be bothered.”

“Even if it’s me?” You quirk your brow upwards and place a hand on your hip.

“Well… I suppose he wouldn’t bar you from entering. Apologies, My Lady.” You hear a wavering fear in his voice. Perhaps he realizes that keeping his Lord from you would be a terrible idea.

Stepping aside, they push open the solid metal doors and bow their heads as you pass. Being the Lady of the castle certainly had its perks.

The heavy doors shut with a heavy thump behind you and you proceed into the darkened room. There are a few candles lit around the chamber. You hear thundering footsteps from behind the throne at the front of the room. You wonder if you should’ve left him alone.

“I requested to be left well alone. Secluded from all.” His low, authoritative voice echoes across the stone walls. You see one of his snakes poke its head out from the darkness and you straighten your posture.

Messmer comes out from behind the large throne and hurries towards you, steps light yet graceful, befitting a demigod. He grabs your hand and inspects you for injuries.

“My darling, whatever is the matter? Has something happened?” His features soften and butterflies erupt in your stomach from his gentle touch.

“Nothing has happened. Everything is alright, love.” You reach your hand up towards his cheek to cradle it and he lowers himself to allow you to. You notice that the dark circles underneath his eyes have grown heavier and he looks weary. “Are you alright, Messmer?”

The question takes him aback. He shoots you a weak smile and gently kisses your palm. “Yes, my darling. It has been a rather vexing week, nothing more. Thou must not worry about such matters; I will attend to them.”

You know he is lying. Something has happened, but why would he be worried to open up to you? He has been forthcoming about his mother and his crusade in her name, so what could possibly make him think he can’t talk to you?

“Love, I’m here for you. I know something is bothering you.” He looks away from you, head bowed down. You make him look at you, and he meets your soft gaze with hesitation. “You do not have to bear everything by yourself, you know. Please let me help you.”

He sighs and grabs your hands with his much larger ones. “A sweeter companion I could never hope to have. But some burdens are mine to bear as they are mine own sins.”

“Are you thinking about the war?”

“Yes. The blood I have spilled would paint this castle ruby, inside and out. And yet, it is Mother’s will. Her vengeance has become mine own flesh.” He sounds conflicted, like he knows what is right and wrong, and yet, he can’t bring himself to stray from the path his Mother set him on. He pulls his hands away from yours, scared he will taint your innocence with his touch.

“I’m not scared of you.” His eye gleams bright gold at your words.

“Perhaps not now. But, should we have met before, my visage would haunt thy very nightmares.” His snakes gently coil around him more, as if comforting him. You long to do the same. To take all his pain and make it vanish into thin air.

But you cannot do that.

“I have a surprise for you.” You break the haunting silence and interrupt his spiraling train of thought.

“What is it?” He sounds exhausted.

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?” You shoot him a playful smile, and he returns it with a much weaker one. You take his hand and begin to lead him back to his chambers behind his towering throne. Slowly, you make your way to the back of his room where a large marble tub sits vacant. 

“So… there’s really no better way to say this, but I need you to strip and get in the bath for me.” Heat rushes to your cheeks. You dare to look up at him. His gaze shifts between the tub and you rapidly, and his face matches his hair.

“Only if you want to! If this makes you uncomfortable, we can forget this ever happened. I got fancy bath salts and soaps from Castle Ensis to help you relax.” You open your satchel and show him the various bottles and wrapped packages you brought with you.

“Thou hast done this… to offer me a respite?”

“You’ve seemed preoccupied lately. A nice bath always helps me clear my mind and rest.” You give him a bashful smile. His eye is wide and his face is twisted in confusion.

“Thou does not wish for me to disrobe for thy own pleasure?” 

You think you’re going to die before this conversation is over.

“No! I just want you to get in the bath and relax!” You take a second to breathe and quiet your voice. You don’t want him to think that you want him just for sex. “I can wash your hair if you’d like.” 

“I’d like that.” You barely hear his response over your rapid heartbeat.

“Okay.”

You begin to run the water, making sure it’s warm, but not hot. You sprinkle in some lavender and rose petals and throw in some sweet-smelling salts for good measure. Messmer watches you with a curious eye. His snakes do the same. They flick their tongues and turn their heads side-to-side.

Once the tub is filled, the room smells fantastic. You set your satchel to the side and fetch him a soft towel and his favorite red silk robe. You set everything within arms reach.

“Okay, I’ve got everything set up. So I’ll, uh, step out for a few minutes. Just call me back when you’re ready.”

He nods at you and you make your way out of his chambers. Shutting the heavy door behind you, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Hopefully, this will help him relax and take his mind off of fighting a war he wasn’t meant to wage. You know you aren’t able to take away the horrible memories of hundreds of years of war, but you can help him forget, even if for a moment.

“I am ready.” His voice interrupts your thoughts. You take a deep breath and step back inside. Peeking around the corner, you see him sitting perfectly straight in the tub with his back to you, his snakes curiously peering over his shoulder for your return.

You sit on the edge of the bath and gently place a hand on his back, careful of where his snakes have torn through his skin. “How do you feel? Is the water okay?”

“I am… nervous. But the water is quite nice.”

“Why are you nervous, my love?” You rub soothing circles into his back.

“No one has ever seen me like this. Exposed.”

“I can leave if I’m making you uncomfortable.” You begin to stand up, but he grabs your wrist.

“Thy presence is never unwelcome. I am just not used to this. Thy touch. Thy care.” He lets go of your wrist.

“You deserve love and care, Messmer.” 

“Perhaps.”

“You do.” You lean down to wrap your arms around him, but he stops you.

“Thy dress. I do not wish for you to ruin it because of me.”

“Oh hush. Have you seen the amount of dresses in my wardrobe? Now lean your head back.”

He does as you ask and you see the worry in his eye. As gently as you can, you pour water over his head and smooth his hair down. You reach over and grab some shampoo and begin to massage it into his scalp. His eye flutters closed at the sensation of your nails scratching against his scalp and he shudders.

“Are you alright? Do you need me to stop?”

“No. This is wonderful.” You laugh and keep going. Your hands are comically small compared to his head, so it takes you quite some time to make sure all of his hair is covered. Not that you mind, however, when the slightest touch leaves him in such a state of relaxation.

Once again, you pour water over his hair and wash away the sweet shampoo. You ensure no suds get into his eye.

He has allowed you to move him how you please and you’re touched by how much he trusts you. Grabbing some conditioner, you run it through his hair and rub it into his scalp. Once again, he shudders and his breathing slows. He’s enjoying this.

“You’re very pretty, my love.” You see his cheeks redden and he opens his mouth to protest, but you scratch his scalp with both hands and he falls silent immediately. The next time he goes to rebuke something you say, you’ll just do this. You’ll never be wrong again.

Washing the conditioner out of his hair, you also notice that his snakes seem to be enjoying this. They watch you with content looks on their faces, tongues flicking out happily. You rinse your hands off and reach out to pet them. They nuzzle approvingly into your palm.

“They adore you, darling.” He gives you a loving smile.

“More than you do?” 

“An impossible feat.” The snakes hiss out in disagreement and you laugh. 

“Would you like me to let you get out?” You feel the water and frown as it’s beginning to get a little cold.

“Perhaps. I do rather enjoy this.”

“I’ll brush your hair when you’re dressed. How does that sound?”

“Marvelous. Thy surprise continues to enchant me.”

“Good.” You kiss him on the cheek and rise from where you were sitting. You move the towel and his robe closer to him at the edge of the tub, and leave his chambers again. You make a mental note to add the salts, soaps, and flowers to the supply list from Castle Ensis permanently. Perhaps this could be a weekly thing for him. You’d do it as often as it took for him to look so relaxed again.

The large door opens and Messmer greets you with a smile. He looks decades younger. His red hair dangles around his face, droplets of water kissing his skin and rolling down his neck. His red robe hugs his frame nicely. 

He holds out his hand and you take it wordlessly. He shuts the doors with a flick of his wrist and guides you over to his large bed. You notice that his hairbrush is already on the comforter. He sits down on the edge of the bed and you shuffle your way behind him.

“Ready?” You don’t need to ask, but you do.

“Yes. I do not know how this will go. Mine hair is… unruly.”

“Then I’ll just have to brush it everyday.”

“You spoil me, darling.”

“As do you. Now hold still, and tell me if anything hurts.”

You test the waters by running your fingers through his hair, and he wasn’t lying. His hair is rather tangled and will take some work to get straight. You silently curse your lover for not taking better care of himself, and get to work. You start with the ends of his hair and brush out the small knots at the bottom as carefully as you can. Eventually, with some work, the hair obeys and flows down his back as it’s supposed to. 

You take a second to check on Messmer. He’s been silent the whole time and you want to make sure he’s enjoying this. Your worries are short lived, however, when you see his eye closed and his face relaxed. His mouth is slightly open and his breathing is even.

“Is something the matter?” He asks you, still with his eye closed.

“Just making sure you’re alright, love.”

“With thee, I am blissfully content.”

“Please keep that in mind as I work through these tangles.” He laughs and shakes his head at your antics.

“I shall. I will repeat it as a mantra for thine efforts.” 

You give him a small peck on the cheek and return to your work. You begin to move up to the hair beneath his neck and slowly brush at any tangles you find. With some persistence, his hair is soft and silky once again. You notice one of his snakes out of the corner of your eye watching your gentle movements. The other is happily splayed on the comforter.

Slowly, you make your way to his scalp, and within a half hour, you have his fiery hair running in gentle waves down his shoulders. Putting the brush down, you use your fingers to sweep through his hair for any stubborn tangles, but you don’t find any. Satisfied, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and lay your head against his neck.

“I’m tired now.” Your remark makes him chuckle and wrap his hand around one of yours.

“I have no doubt.” He leans his head against yours and sighs. “This was a most pleasant surprise, my darling. I thank thee for this.”

“Of course. It’s the least I can do for you.”

He untangles himself from you and gently pulls you down onto the soft bed beside him. You tuck yourself into his side and yawn.

“There are days I find myself believing that I do not deserve thee. This is yet another one of those days.”

You kiss the back of his hand and shake your head. “You deserve all of this and more.”

“Perhaps.” He pulls you closer to him. His skin is smooth and smells like lavender. “Sleep, my beloved.”

“It’s not even time for dinner.”

“You would disobey your Lord?” He taunts you playfully.

“No, I would not.” You snort.

“I shall wake thee for dinner.” 

“You’re going to fall asleep with me.”

He relaxes into the cushions and pillows beneath him and kisses your forehead. “I do not hear thee complaining.”

“I’m not. I want to stay here forever with you.”

You’re beginning to slip into slumber. You let your eyes flutter closed and snuggle into Messmer’s side. He gently pulls a blanket over you and tucks you in as best he can.

“As do I, my beloved.”

“I love you, Messmer.”

Before you completely succumb to sleep, you hear his quiet reply.

“And I thee, my sweet consort.”

[the-great-ladyg]

Did someone notice in the new Somerton's video that he didn't adress any of the misogyny or transphobia accusations? Like, yeah, he said "people say I hate women but that's not true" and only that. And he also addressed the misinformation, in which we can include the misgendering, but he still didn'h fully talk about this even when those accusations were, along with plagiarism, the most talked about on the internet.

This dude didn't give any reason for why "he doesn't hate" women or trans people, it truly was a "source: dude trust me" and Somerton expects us to believe him, when no, he threw shit on women in every chance he got, he showed transphobia in many times for no fucking reason other than he's got something against women and trans people.

And he also didn't address any of the racism people has pointed out since a long time, but more specially since HBomberguy and Todd's video. This dude only focused on plagiarism, and even that he sucked at since he implied it was an accident. How can you plagiarize on accident?, you have to write, to read, to check what you're doing, he read and Nick's scripts, he must have noticed the copying and still left it with no citation. He said he loves investigating and reading, then he must notice the copying, yet he also said he "didn't notice", like this dude can't recognize he did this on purpose, it was all "an accident".

Also, he just tried shifting the blame, placing it on Nick or, again, like it was an accident and he didn't mean to it. Somerton knew what he was doing, all of us are taught at school, specially college, that plagiarism not only is bad, it it diminishes the quality and credibility of the person that stole those words, it can get you expelled or fired, and let's not forget the people you're hurting by stealing from them, and this case the people whose experiences and words were stolen. Somerton is in a more privileged position than many people in the LGBTQ+ community since he's a cis white man, and yet he decided to attack this way many POC and trans people, not only he stole their words, but he also used racist and transphobic rhetoric, he misgendered, he erased sexualities and put all of us on the same box of "cis straight white women".

"I wanted to make my channel a safe space", yeah, sure man, like saying all the negative things of an MLM media is straight cis women's fault, or misgendering, erasing the bisexuality of a woman or changing "trans" for "queer" is going to make to make your channel a safe for queer women and trans people.

I just deep down know he won't change at all, maybe except for the citations, but we must expect he'll continue being a misogynist racist transphobe dumbass that will keep ignoring this accusations and using the homophobia card.

I really feel sorry if he truly felt so bad he harmed himself and ended up on an hospital, if that's real I hope he gets better and never gets to that point again. Maybe I'm naive, but I want to believe this is not a tactic to manipulate us to forgive him, but... idk, I just expect anything from this man that has used the homophobia card to protect his ass from any criticism.

But talking by myself, as a genderfluid AFAB person who consumes and creates queer content and felt so insulted by his racism, his misogyny and transphobia, and noticing how he avoided the topic, I don't accept his apology and hope he disappears from the internet before he can do any more damage.

[mypoisonedvine]

Drabble Idea: Judge Crane decides to give his obsession a third option. Death, exile, or…….

You know he would use his position in order to get his crush all to himself while Gotham burns.

YES OMG SOME LOVE FOR JUDGE CRANE he's so underrated and I actually lost it when I saw the movies in theaters and he popped up <3 like omg look it's my husband

warnings: coercion, ownership, threats of noncon, yandere vibes

"You can't be serious," you mumbled, but you knew he was-- Dr. Crane wasn't an especially humorous guy, that whole death by exile bit from earlier notwithstanding.

He still smiled at you, though; "It's your choice."

"Well, it's not much of a choice, is it?" you scoffed.

"It's a better choice than anybody else got," Jonathan shrugged, "if you do choose exile, I'm sure these guys would love to give you a nice send-off-- right, boys?"

You didn't even have the heart to look back at the thugs who had dragged you in here, but you heard them chuckling and mumbling amongst themselves. Crane had made his message clear, and you let out a sigh of defeat. "Fine," you said.

"Fine?" he repeated. "What's that mean, you'll just die?"

"No, I--"

"You know, you said once you'd rather die than marry me, do you remember that?" He laughed. But that was years ago, when your father tried to set you up with him because he was a respected doctor and you were a nice young socialite-- it was more about rebellion than anything else then, but learning about his insanity and criminal activities wasn't exactly changing your mind.

"I was wrong," you admitted, "alright? I'm sorry."

He smiled again, a little more sinister than the last time. "Then you can wait for me with the others... sweetheart."

~

The huddled mass of the 'arrested' dwindled through the day, executives and politicians dragged up the stairs to meet their fate as determined by Crane; soon it was only half or less left behind, with you simply counting the minutes until you'd be taken-- you couldn't imagine what life would be like with Jonathan, and for now, you tried not to.

He came for you at the end of the day, standing above you and smiling down as you stayed sitting on the ground, leaning against a pillar and waiting for whatever he asked you to do. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say," he admitted as he stared at you. "Hi honey, I'm home or something?"

"You don't actually sleep here, do you?" you frowned.

"No, no-- I believe in work-life balance," he shook his head; then reached his hand out to help you up. "Come on, let's go home."

Though you hesitated, you took his hand and let him help you to your feet with a wince.

"Are you alright?" he asked, seeing the pain on your face.

"They kinda roughed me up," you admitted quietly, though your breath caught when Jonathan pulled you closer.

"Poor thing," he mumbled, petting your cheek briefly, holding your waist a little tighter. "And having to sit on this hard floor all day-- you must be sore, hm?"

You nodded slightly, though you felt strange talking to him like this-- like it was a normal conversation, and not something you had to do to keep yourself safe. If being with him could really be considered 'safe'...

"I can write you a script if you're in too much pain," he offered, "but I think you just need some rest: somewhere warm, a nice big bed..."

He leaned in closer as he trailed off, taking a deep breath beside your head as he rubbed your back. Though he must have noticed the way you tensed up and nearly pulled away, it didn't deter him.

"I'll be good to you," he promised, "if you just behave. You don't need to be so afraid of me."

But you could hear the excitement in his voice; he liked that you were afraid of him. Finally, he had the power over you that you'd denied him all those years ago. No matter how sweet he promised to be, one way or another, he was going to make you pay for that.

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Had an idea of yandere sonic or tails x reader who can't read or mabye cant read good enough, mabye they get a love letter mailed and he tells you something entirely different to hid it from you, and youd have a level of dependancy you know?

I dunno sorta kinda new to requests and tumblr as a whole just a thought

A/n: sorry for taking long on this

Yandere Sonic/tails x Reader who can't read

Sonic:

Sonic is quick to notice that reading isn't your strong suit. It doesn’t bother him at first. You stumble over words, sometimes avoiding tasks that involve reading altogether, and it sparks his protective instincts.

At first, he helps you in small ways, reading menus, helping you write notes, and guiding you through anything that requires comprehension.

Slowly, Sonic realizes how much power he holds in this situation. You trust him greatly, relying on him to guide you through tasks and information. But he would never abuse that trust and use it for his advantage... Right?

When you receive a letter in the mail, Sonic is the first to find it. Opening it up and skimming through it. Upon realizing its a love letter, he immediately is not having it.

When you ask about the letter, Sonic laughs it off, holding it up like it’s nothing.

"Oh, this? It’s just junk mail. Something about a... uh, local discount or something. Don’t worry about it, I'll just toss it for you."

From that point on he is always trying to help you out, reading things for you, to be more helpful. Emails, messages, etc. You're slowly starting to rely on him more and more.

If and when you start talking about wanting to improve your reading, Sonic subtly discourages it.

"Hey, why bother? You’ve got me for that stuff. Besides, we’ve got more fun things to do than stare at boring books, right?"

If you push the issue, he’ll sabotage your efforts. He might hide the materials you need to practice or distract you with sudden outings.

"Come on, let’s take a run! Reading can wait."

If someone else tries to get close to you, he’ll intercept their messages and replace them with his own fabrications. He’s so casual about it too, you might never even question it.

He genuinely believes that keeping you in the dark is the best way to keep you safe, and to keep you his.

Tails:

Tails immediately notices how you cabt read. He pities it, and immediately goes out of his way to start heloing you out by reading things for you, planning on teaching yiu to read after a while.

At first, his help seems innocent. He patiently explains things, reads signs aloud, and even offers to help you with learning to read better himself. You find his kindness endearing, and at this point he is genuinely trying to help you.

When the love letter arrives, Tails spots it before you do. His sharp eyes catch the handwriting, and his heart sinks as he realizes someone is trying to steal your attention.

Tails doesn’t just hide the letter he carefully reads it, analyzing the handwriting and tone to learn more about this potential suitor. Then, he burns the letter in his workshop, making sure no trace of it remains.

"Oh, you got something in the mail? It was just one of those generic ads. Nothing important." His voice is calm, his face perfectly composed.

Tails begins to take over more aspects of your life, presenting it as acts of kindness. He offers to organize your schedule, manage your bills, and even write your grocery lists.

If you ever feel embarrassed about your struggles, Tails is quick to reassure you.

"Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to do everything on your own. That’s why you have me."

He becomes your shadow, always there to help, because thats what friends do, no?

After sone time of becoming more attached tobyiu, he stops offering to help with your reading. Infact, like Sonic, Tails actually starts to discourages your attempts to improve your reading skills.

"Learning takes time, and you’re already so busy. Dont worry, I'll just handle it for now, okay?"

He goes a step further by subtly undermining your confidence. If you misread something, he’ll correct you in a way that feels condescending.

"Oh, that’s not what it says, like at all... Here, let me fix it for you."

Tails uses his engineering skills to keep tabs on you. He installs hidden cameras and microphones in your home, ensuring he knows exactly who you’re talking to and what you’re doing.

If someone else tries to connect with you, Tails will intercept their messages, deleting or altering them before they reach you.

"Looks like your friend canceled on you again. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you company."

[ninyard]

nin reads the bonus chapters pt. 2 (TRK Edition)

Betsy's chapter (oh god this is basically going to be me quoting the whole thing)

Andrew pointed at him and turned a scandalized look on Betsy. "Working theory: Coach is allergic to sugar!" "How ghastly," Betsy said.

them! him looking at her like that. the banter between them. i love him i love her their dynamic is just my favourite thing ever pls

She half-expected him to sit as far from her as he could, but he took the chair at her side and spun his mug in lazy circles on the table.

sobbing. this is so soft

Andrew laughed and gave an exaggerated shrug, only to wince and reach for his bandaged temple. "Ouch," he complained cheerily, a second before digging his fingers hard into the gauze and tape. Betsy tapped the table in front of him in warning. He sighed like her request for restraint was unbearable but held onto the chair between his knees instead.

1) ouch. i feel ill 2) CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE TAPPING TO STOP HIM HURTING HIMSELF!!!!! CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW WE NEVER REALLY SEE ANDREW AS SOMEONE WHO HURTS HIMSELF BUT IN THIS CHAPTER WE DO?? IS IT BECAUSE HE CAN LET HIS GUARD DOWN IN FRONT OF HER?? IS IT SOMETHING SHE HAS TO STOP OFTEN??? PUKING 3) him holding onto the chair is so cute

Betsy kept her tone gentle like it would somehow make her next question less terrible: "Did you let them run a kit, Andrew?" "No choice, Bee." Andrew said, with a put-upon sigh.

PUKE

Betsy was less interested in his aggrieved front than she was in what his hands were doing: Andrew was dragging a thumb up and down his left forearm is short, agitated jerks. The force behind it would have torn skin if his sleeves weren't there to take the brunt of it. Betsy tapped the table again, and Andrew obediently reached for his mug with both hands.

PUKE_2

"You might not have noticed, but he and I look a lot alike! They'll look at him and see me, and we both know how little they think of me. Have to stack the deck in his favor somehow."

this hurts so badly. him doing the kit for aaron. him feeling like aaron's odds at getting out of this are fucked up because of him. him feeling like he has to do everything he can to fix this for aaron. PUKE_3

"I know how invasive a procedure it can be, especially on the heels of such violence." And there it was at last: A subtle chink in the armor his withdrawal was tearing away from him. In a year and a half of treating Andrew, she'd never seen him so still. [...] If she was kinder, she would leave it at that, but Andrew would react worse to being coddled than he would to what she needed to say.

PUKE_4 also,,, am i allowed to say how im obsessed with how accurate i've managed to get my fic about andrew and bee. like that last line hellooooo

"I don't imagine you allowed it last time." [...] How Andrew reacted - how much he would admit to, how much he would trust her in the wake of such trauma - was too important. "Oh, Bee," Andrew said, with a laugh she didn't at all believe. "You assume they were stupid enough to get caught."

why did she write this. was it specifically to hurt me because she won. it worked. also the fact that andrew feels comfortable enough around david to have this conversation with him in the room makes me feel insane

"Are you and Neil not getting along?" Betsy asked. David sent her a look of pained incredulity

he's like girl please don't tell me you ALSO haven't noticed. he literally can't believe he's the only one that's picked up on it. he's like youre his THERAPIST what do u mean are they not getting along

okay this next part i literally have so many thoughts i meant it when i said i was basically going to put this whole chapter here

"We have spent too much time together if you are so reckless," Andrew said, figeting with the bandages on his face again. "Lot of eyes, Bee, so many eyes. I do not think they will care about insomnia when they finally have the chance to nail us to the wall. Better safe than sorry, yes? They cannot keep him. I will not let them."

god once again the way he want to do everything he can to get aaron out of this whole situation. and just... him knowing how many people are going to be looking at him and reading him and everything just. hguhsudfusdfkgsd

Betsy put a finger to the tape at his cheekbone in silent questioning but waited until Andrew dropped his hand before trying to peel the gauze up. She sucked in a slow breath through gritted teeth at the stitches and bruises along his temple.

so gentle. so much trust and care and i feel SICK

"I didn't even get to keep it," Andrew complained. "How stingy. I've never tried brandy."

not him saying this about the bottle Drake hit him with. ANDREW

"You have done astoundigly well despite life's every attempt to crush you. I'm sorry," She said, trying and failing to catch his eye. "and I'm so, so proud of you."

sobbing

finally the words crawled out of him: "Everyone knows now, Bee." And that, she thought, was the harsh truth he would medicate to avoid processing. Not his uncle's betrayal or Drake's violence, but having his violation broadcast against his will to a family he wouldn't let go of and wouldn't let in. [...] Betsy would have gone to him if she wasn't so sure he would retreat.

SOBBING

"Who fears the monster that knows the taste of a whip?" Andrew asked.

literally puking. how beautiful and heartbreaking and such a horrible heartbreaking look into the way andrew views himself. this HUUURTS

"You could be their friend, their cousin, their brother. Don't you think you deserve that?" "Oh, Bee," Andrew said, a little too tired to be pitying. "With him on our heels?"

okay y'all gotta help me. is this about. drake? or like... who's him referring to

"Maybe letting her choose isn't the best idea." David said. Betsy put a hand over her heart. "David, you wound me." "Bee likes musicals," Andrew announced brightly, though David had found that out the hard way.

BETSY DAVID FRIENDSHIP I NEED ITTTTT

David waited until his back was turned before nodding an okay to Betsy. Trusting he would keep a discreet eye on her most precious charge, Betsy collected her keys and purse and left the house.

HER MOST PRECIOUS CHARGE

anyways! this chapter destroyed me and put me back together again! and i feel ILL after reading it! :D

[iamnmbr3]

Ok I like #26 with Drarry, of course, but may I request for bonus points #26 with Harry and Lucius post-DH? 😈

26. What they would do if stuck in an elevator with [insert character of your choice from the same fandom]

Oh ho! I am chortling! I love this so much!

Drarry

This depends on when it happens but let's go with immediately post-war. By this point Draco has come to terms with the fact that he's in love with Harry Potter but will never have him. Potter will move on with his life and Draco will try to pick up the shattered pieces of his. They'll likely never see each other again. It's for the best he tries to tell himself. Nothing could have come of it anyway. He destroyed any chance at even friendship long ago. He tries to tell himself it doesn't hurt. And then Potter is right there in the lift in front of him. The closest they've been to each other since Potter inexplicably spoke at his trial and spared him prison.

They kind of both freeze for a moment and just stare at each other. Neither really knows what to say. Harry immediately notices how much better Draco looks than the last time he saw him - the sheen is back in his hair and he's lost some of the hollowness in his cheeks. He has a subdued, open, almost vulnerable look though that Harry's rarely seen on him. Draco had written to him after his trial - thanking him and expressing remorse that Harry is sure was entirely genuine for all that Ron & Hermione remain skeptical. Harry'd meant to write back but there had been so much going on, so much pain and loss that he still hasn't gotten around to it yet.

And now Draco's here. His old enemy and yet all he can think is how glad he is that he's alive and safe. They both speak at the same time. Draco is trying to stumble through thanking Harry (yet again) and apologizing while Harry is trying to say that he got Draco's letter and he's sorry he didn't write back. They both stop and try again. It's awkward but it somehow it also breaks some of the tension. And suddenly they're actually talking - each asking how the other is doing and actually giving honest answers in turn. Because even though they've never been friends they aren't strangers either. They know each other. And each knows that in his own way the other understands - they have both suffered at Voldemort's hands after all, and still are plagued by similar nightmares, and they both know better than to believe in the mythologized caricatures they have both become in the public eye. And there's some connection between them, an inexorable draw that seems stronger than ever now there is no war to keep them apart.

The lift eventually stops but their conversation doesn't.

Harry & Lucius

This is AWKWARD. Harry is The Boy Who Lived Twice, the Chosen One who defeated Voldemort in single combat and probably 20 other epithets that he hates and is mortified by. Lucius is The Man Who Desperately Doesn't Want To Go Back To Azkaban, somehow known as a traitor by both sides and universally loathed. AND to make matters worse the last time he and Harry were in close proximity was at the Manor when he tried to hand Harry over to Voldemort. Not to mention the time in the graveyard when he jeered while Harry was tortured. Or the time in the Department of Mysteries. Yeah. It's not good.

Lucius spends the whole ride with his thoughts caught in a loop. Part of him just wants to stay still and unobtrusive - a skill that was beaten and cursed into him during those awful months when the Dark Lord lived in his house. He's only just been released. Potter has more reasons than most to hate him. The last thing he wants to do is provoke him. But if he doesn't say anything maybe it will seem arrogant or insufficiently penitent or worse still, hostile. And he can't afford that. But what can he say that won't be obviously false and ingratiating?

Meanwhile Harry's first thought is that Lucius looks kind of pathetic and diminished and he feels a small spark of pity for him quite against his will. Then he notices that Lucius is looking at him funny and seems on the verge of speech and he starts wondering if the man has somehow figured out that while he's been in prison Harry has taken up with his son and oh Merlin he does not want to be the one to have this conversation. (Lucius sees Harry frowning at him and becomes convinced he's going to be thrown back in prison by the end of the day.)

Draco subsequently gets two separate frantic letters by owl post. "I was at the Ministry today for my first required meeting with my parole officer and Potter got in the lift; I think he suspects me of something..." the first one begins. Meanwhile the other starts off: "Draco - I ran into your dad today at the Ministry. I think he knows about us." Draco hasn't laughed this hard in years.

Send me a character and a number.

[talaok]

Hey.

Can you write a pedro × reader. Where they are co stars in a movie working together and they have feelings for each other. One night here there is a party in the reader's room , everyone leaves, pedro helps the reader clean up and they are kinda of drunk and so the have their first kiss?

this was such a cute idea

“Goodnight” you waved at Jacob, who replied with a drunken mumble and an even drunken smile. That one too many drinks unmistakable in his stumbled walk to the elevator.

You chuckled picturing how he was gonna show up to set tomorrow with a pounding headache.

You closed the door, the soft click of the lock disrupting the silence in the room.

"thank you for staying to help," you said, turning around just to find Pedro with a trash bag in hand, already cleaning up.

His big brown eyes lifted from the counter, finding yours, and once again, you felt your heart shimmer slightly.

He had this incredibly annoying and honestly understandable effect on you.

It wasn't all the time though, just when he touched you, or looked at you, or when he'd laugh at one of your jokes...

"of course," he smiled like it didn't make your skin suddenly feel too tight "We made a mess, I couldn't leave you alone to fix it"

You beamed thankfully and grabbed a trashbag of your own.

"so did you have fun?" you asked, as you both cleaned the kitchen.

"I did" He nodded "Well I always have fun when I'm with you"

You chuckled softly

"It's true" he insisted "You have this thing about you..."

"my foolishness?"

"no no, god no" he smiled " You're just... light"

"light?" you asked, your curiosity peaked as you stepped closer

He was smiling like he knew he was messing up all the words.

"yes, light," he repeated "refreshing, fun, warm"

"wow" you grinned "I am a lot of things it seems"

"I'm sorry" he shook his head "I don't know how to explain myself"

"I told you you didn't need that last beer" you joked, making him chuckle.

"You were probably right, as always" he chuckled, taking a quick breath "I just mean that you are... well you are pretty amazing"

"pretty amazing?" you asked, red tainting your cheeks ever so slightly.

"just amazing actually"

"you're flattering me Pedro" you bit your lip "but just so you know, you're amazing too"

And you didn't know if it was the alcohol but his cheeks seemed more crimson too.

He smiled "Trust me you’re more" he stated "and not only that, you're a lot of other things" 

his mouth was moving faster than his brain could give him the signal to stop. The safe where he had hidden all the secret thoughts he had spent months having had just been jammed with a few sips too much, and he was unable to stop all from spilling.

"am I?" you asked playfully "Like what?"

His hand went to your arm, and you were certain you had both felt the electricity passing between you.

"Well you are-" he cleared his throat, stepping properly in front of you "You're very beautiful" he confessed "distractingly beautiful in fact" he kept going, as his eyes fell to your lips and yours on his.

Was this really happening? was the only thought on both of your minds.

"God knows how many times I've messed up a line because I was busy staring at you"

"Pedro-"

"or just thinking about you really" he smiled to himself before he got more serious, his eyes decisive 

"you're not drunk, are you?" he asked,

"no, you?"

" Sober as a Judge," he said, mere seconds before his lips were on yours.

You felt fireworks go off in your stomach, and he felt the same in his.

He brought his hands up to your face, holding you like you were about to slip away, and yours went to his chest, his broad and firm chest that felt every bit as you had imagined.

His lips, however, felt much better. He was being so soft and gentle and you felt yourself melt onto him.

You leaned away to catch your breath and you looked at each other incredulously, no words forming in your throat.

He stoaked your cheek, his mouth tugging the happiest smile you had ever seen on a man.

"I can't believe this happened" he beamed "I've been thinking about this since you first flashed that smile at me" 

You smiled

"Exactly" he kissed you again briefly "That one"

[mrsshabana]

Hiiii! I’m new here, go by El online. Can I give you a prompt/ask?

Can you please do a fic with fem reader x Gyutaro, where she met him in the entertainment district and instead of being scared when he attacked someone who was harassing her, she took his hand and told him not to hurt himself anymore? She used to struggle with self-hatred too, so she knows where he’s coming from—and when they start making out, she admits she doesn’t feel safe being bottom…and Gyutaro ends up subbing for her and liking it?

Thanks!

♥CW: 18+ content, MDNI, smut, creampie, sub!Gyutaro, dom!Reader, mentions of self harm

♥AN: Thank you so much for the request! Sorry it took me awhile to get to it, but I hope you like it! I don't get to write for canon Gyutaro much, so this was very fun! (*^▽^*)

♥WC: 1,503

It all happened so fast. Only a moment ago, you were being pushed against the brick wall of a dark alleyway. A drunk man restraining your wrists with one hand as his other goes to tear open your kimono.

But almost as soon as it had began, it was ended in a flash of blood. The man fell to the ground, blood pooling everywhere. And a strange figure stood before you.

The moment your gaze connects with his, it is clear to you that he is no human. But even so, he did just save you.

"Th-thank you," you stutter. Struggling to maintain eye contact with the terrifying demon.

He looks taken aback by the fact that you have thanked him. "Uh... you're welcome." He mumbles.

You end up introducing yourself to him, and he introduces himself in return, as Gyutaro.

Gyutaro is shocked that you are being so kind to him. Yeah he just saved you, but every time he has helped a human out he never received such kind words in return.

Seeing a woman being taken advantage of angers Gyutaro more than it should. He strictly believes that the women in the district deserve to be paid for their services, and should never be forced to perform sexual acts against their will.

There's a pause of awkward silence. Gyutaro begins to get nervous, the way that you look up at him with your big, innocent, doe eyes makes his knees weak. You are so pretty, yet you aren't running away?

Without noticing it, he begins to scratch his neck. His nails dig deep under his skin, creating wounds that heal seconds later.

"Hey!" you shout, reaching out and grabbing his hand, "Don't hurt yourself."

Gyutaro's eyes go wide and he snatches his hand away from your grasp, "Why do you care? It's none of your business anyways!"

"I used to hurt myself too," you sigh, "I know it is hard to stop. But you seem like a very nice man, there is no need to hurt yourself."

"A-a nice man?" he mumbles, shocked, "No... I'm just an ugly demon. Can't you see?"

"Yes, I can see you perfectly well," against your better judgment you take a step forward. Closing the gap between you and the dangerous demon. Bringing your hands up to cup his cheeks, "You aren't ugly at all. Don't be so hard on yourself..."

Gyutaro is left speechless. Never had a human had the confidence to do something so bold. Do you have no regard for your own life? Or are you just that grateful?

You don't know what it is, but something about this demon intrigues you. Sparks something within you that no one before ever has. You have delt with self hatred in the past, and seeing this man-eating demon struggle with the same thing breaks your heart. All you want to do is comfort him... get closer to him... love him. With a smile, you lean forward and kiss his lips.

Your lips are soft and warm against his. His heart pounds away in his chest, and all logical thought goes out the window. He doesn't know why, but all he can think about is how badly he doesn't want this to end. How badly he wants to soak in your affection, the affection that he has been denied for his entire life. Now is his chance to finally have it.

After the initial shock wears off, Gyutaro closes his eyes and returns the kiss. Hesitantly following your lead, gently holding onto your waist and pulling you closer. When you gently glide your tongue along his lips, he slightly parts his lips to give you access. Relaxing as your tongues dance in the passionate kiss.

It doesn't take long for Gyutaro to get riled up. Pressing his hips against you, his hard-on evidently felt through his pants.

"C-can we go somewhere more private?" you whimper, looking up at him with a flustered expression.

He nods, "Course..."

Carefully picking you up, Gyutaro takes you to an upstairs room in the Kyogoku house. It's dark and a bit dusty, but not too dirty. There is a large futon on the floor that looks rarely used.

Gyutaro lays you down on your back, before climbing on top of you. Grabbing your leg and wrapping it around his waist, he goes in to continue the kiss. But you stop him.

"Um, Gyutaro... I'm not too comfortable being on the bottom. Would you mind if we maybe switched places?"

Gyutaro furrows his brows in confusion. To be completely honest, he doesn't have much sexual knowledge so this is quite peculiar to him. Every time he's seen human have sex, it was with the man on top. But he likes you a lot, and wants to make sure you are comfortable. It isn't everyday he gets an opportunity like this.

"Ok, sure," he nods. Promptly laying on his back, giving you room to straddle him.

"Thanks," you whisper before guiding him back into the kiss. Moving your hips back and forth, grinding against him. Resulting in him moaning desperately into the kiss.

Something about Gyutaro is bringing out all of your carnal desires. Never have you felt the need to go so far with someone that you barely know. Maybe it has to do with the fact that he is a dangerous demon? Or maybe it has to do with how he saved you earlier?

Either way, all you know is that you need him now. Wasting no time, you remove your kimono and slide off your panties. Exposing your bare body to the gaze of the demon below you.

Watching as he shamelessly stares at you, his grip on your thighs tightening.

"Are you ready, Gyutaro?" you ask while tugging at the hem of his pants.

"Y-yeah," he pants, moving his hips up so you can pull his pants down. Which you promptly do, releasing his throbbing cock.

The same spots that decorate his body appear on his shaft too. Giving it a unique appearance. One that Gyutaro is ashamed of, but one that you find quite attractive. Not only that, but it is also larger than you had expected. Making you glad that you are on top. You can't imagine how much it'd hurt if he just drove into you with that thing. He is a demon after all, so who knows how much he'd care for your comfort.

Grabbing his base, you glide his tip along your slick folds. Coating him enough so he can slide in with more ease.

But it isn't easy. When you start to lower down on him, it hurts, the stretch is more painful that you had anticipated.

So, you take it slow. Lowering yourself inch by inch until you manage to fully fit him inside. At this point, Gyutaro is a moaning mess. His eyes are squeezed shut, head tilted back, and he has a firm grip on your ass.

He almost loses it when you start bouncing on top of him. Moaning loudly with each move of your hips.

You can't help but admire the sharpness of his teeth every time he parts his lips. This demon seems very dangerous and has probably killed and eaten hundreds, if not thousands, of people. Yet here he is, completely helpless beneath you.

That thought causes you to grow even wetter, and fuck him even harder.

"You like that Gyutaro? Do you feel good?" you coo, leaning forward to cup his cheek.

"Ngh, y-yeah... ah, fuck... feels-feels really g-good," he whines in between moans.

It takes every ounce of his strength to not immediately cum, but it's getting impossible for him. You're just so warm, so tight, and showing him so much affection. He can't help himself.

Holding onto you firmly, Gyutaro thrusts up to meet your hips. Ramming his sharp hip bones into your soft flesh. After a few thrusts he's arching his back and cumming inside of you. His chest heaves as high-pitched moans escape his lips.

But you don't stop. Even though he may have finished, you have not. So you continue riding him. Gyutaro bites his lip, trying to muffle his moans as you overstimulate him. He doesn't want to disappoint you. He wants to make you cum too, so he stays still for you.

It doesn't take long before your orgasm hits you. Gyutaro holds onto you tightly as you tremble above him, moaning his name. He absolutely loves it.

Not bothering to remove his cock from inside of you, you lay on his chest. The both of you panting, recovering from your orgasms.

You don't know what to expect, and you are afraid to ask. What if he decides to eat you? He's had his fun, so nothing is stopping him.

But instead, Gyutaro wraps his arms around you and nuzzles into your hair.

"Y'know... I normally don't get friendly with humans," he takes a deep breath and sighs, "But I guess I wouldn't mind seeing you again."

[it-was-summer]

Come In With The Rain- Part Two (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long. I could tell everyone everything that has been going on for the past couple of weeks but I fear that no one cares. I genuinely found solace in writing this, and I really hope everyone likes it! I have not proofread this very throughly, but hey partially proofreading something is better than nothing at all guys. I thought about writing a SFW and NSFW version but I feel like if you don't want to read the smut in this... just scroll down a little more and it'll go away. With so much love and gratitude, Em.

Link to the Ao3: Come In With The Rain

Part one -> You are on Part Two!

Yee olde masterlist

WARNING: Light cursing, pining, guilt up the wazoo, Spencer Reid being pookie again, death mentioned (its literally a part of Swan Lake don't worry), ballet talk by someone who sucks at ballet (me), SMUT okay?!?!?!?, the words cunt and cock guys!!! (I'm 22 I have free will), unprotected sex (STIs are no joke, believe me), fingering, mention of oral sex, slight dirty talk, female anatomy, dark house mentioned, joke of a heart attack, and a secret final thing (not proofread well enough probably).

Plot: Coping with your break-up was no easy feat. Luckily, Spencer is there to help. Maybe that's why he can't stop thinking about you.

Word Count: 20,043

Day Two Hundred and Five

After week two of the breakup, you decided you couldn’t sit around and cry on Spencer’s couch anymore. You weren’t ready to go out every night or date again by any means; you were still working on some things in the dating area. Dating someone for two years and five months will do that to you.

But you were ready to get back to doing things you enjoyed: reading novels, watching movies, baking, cooking, knitting, and spending time with a man you were grateful to call one of your best friends.

Spencer Reid was a godsend. He wouldn’t accept any money as a thank-you for letting you crash on his couch for a month, so you moved to your next best angle– spoiling the man. If he went to the grocery store, you went with him. You’d take control of the cart and grab items needed for breakfast, lunch, and dinner– you became a hardworking FBI agent’s dream. You’d make breakfast for the two of you, occasionally making lunch with too many leftovers, forcing Spencer to take some before he left for work that day, and then topping it all off with dinners. 

He had tried to get you to stop multiple times. He felt terrible and guilty for having a guest in his kitchen more than he was. You wouldn’t hear it, and the times you did, he would find a book he had mentioned last week on his bed the next day. 

He felt like he was losing his mind over your kindness. You were overcompensating when there was no reason to overcompensate. He kept telling you how happy he was to have you in the apartment, that you were safe, but you would just say a sweet “I know” before you’d be on his couch looking up a recipe for some elaborate jello dessert. 

You sat across from him at his dining room table, humming softly as you ate. Seeing your slightly happy mood made Spencer feel better. He assumed another reason for your ‘attentive’ behavior recently was that it was a coping mechanism for you. Struggling with the loss of a two-year relationship, he knew you were struggling— struggling with quite a bit, actually: your failed relationship, your upcoming move, being cheated on, and, the cherry on top, immense guilt. 

You felt like a burden above all else. You had told Spencer as such after apologizing for nothing for what seemed to be the tenth time two weeks ago. He threatened to find whoever taught you the word and ensure they never saw the light of day again, and that got a smile out of you at the time.

Spencer was starting to wrestle with some guilt of his own. It wasn’t that you had done anything to warrant said guilt. You were the perfect guest—a saint. Even when faced with situations that would leave anyone nearly catatonic for weeks, you were spoiling him. And he was eating it up, literally and figuratively. 

A rational voice inside of his head knew that being around you was a bad idea at the current time. Josh had accused you of cheating on him with Spencer emotionally, that is. It was a terrible time, and it couldn’t be a worse time for him to realize how strong his feelings were for you. It is not necessarily love per se, but perhaps it is an intense infatuation. He kept trying to rationalize his feelings over and over and over again. He knew you were nowhere near ready for that kind of revelation. He had to intellectualize and compartmentalize his emotions into a tiny box in his brain to protect himself and you. That was the right thing to do. 

So, he relished in these little moments while you were still crashing at his apartment, happily eating across from him—all while knowing he could not have you. You’d always take a few bites and then ask him how his day was. The simple ask made a smile appear on his face nearly every time. 

He shrugged a little, a small smile on his lips as he twisted some noodles onto his fork. “It was okay, thankfully, it was slow. Paperwork is a nice break from traveling for cases. Not that I don’t like the cases, they can just get…” He trails off briefly, looking down at the chow mein on his fork. “Overwhelming.” 

When he looks up, his heart nearly melts at the sweet, empathetic look you’re giving him. With you, it was never pity. You always looked at him with soft, compassionate eyes and a look that told him you felt for him. He remembers mentioning his struggles with his mother briefly as the two of you watched a movie earlier that week, a character being paranoid schizophrenic. You briefly expressed sympathy for the character and how hard it must be to live with something like that. Spencer can’t remember what came over him when he said, “It’s hard on a family– hard to watch.” 

You stared at him for a second before you blinked a little and reached for his hand, resting your palm on the back of his hand. You said nothing after that, and Spencer was happy you didn’t pry. 

You were good at listening like that, something he adored about you. You never bombarded him with questions; sometimes, you’d offer a soft “Do you want to talk about it?” but nothing beyond that. 

You knew you could be nosy with Spencer’s job, but sometimes you could look into those hazel eyes and tell when he did or didn’t want to talk about something. It was a superpower you had picked up in the almost seven months of knowing him. 

You poked at a carrot with your chopsticks after Spencer answered your question regarding his day, “Paperwork day for the guy who reads twenty-thousands words per minute has got to go by fast,” 

“You would think so, but sometimes, when I sit down for so long, all my energy leaves me. Has to be all the sleep I’ve been losing lately due to someone’s soft snoring in the living room.” He chuckles softly, a playful look in his eyes as he bites down on his chow mein. 

You gasp and glare at him playfully, “You said it wasn’t that bad!” You’re shaking your head in seeming disbelief as he chews, taking a moment to tease him more. “I can’t believe you, Spencer Walter Reid, would lie to me like this. How am I supposed to trust you?” 

He’s rolling his eyes as he swallows, his mouth opening to reply when a knocking at his door causes the two of you to cease all sounds of laughter and look toward the door. You watch as Spencer walks to the door, looking through the peephole. He sends you a sympathetic look over his shoulder and opens the door. 

You’re standing up now, walking away from the small dining room table to peer over who is at the door. You feel your knees become weak at the sight of them together. It’s a blatant attempt to get back at you, and it isn’t exactly subtle as Estelle wraps her arms around Josh’s arm. You watch as his elbow presses into her exposed cleavage, and you feel like laughing wildly. 

Josh is slow to see you behind Spencer, but eventually, his eyes land on you. You want to look away, but his eyes on yours have you frozen. You lick your lips nervously as you wonder why he’s here. Two weeks, almost three, of not even attempting to see you. And now he’s at Spencer’s front door. He’s probably sick with satisfaction at the fact that you’re here– you can see it in the way he smiles at you. 

You used to love seeing him smile, but this one causes your stomach to turn. He’s saying something, but it all sounds like static. You shake your head a little before you hear your voice whisper, “Sorry, what?” 

“I have a box of your things.” He repeats, and you see the cardboard box now. You nod a little and walk toward the door. Your hands are shaking as you take the box away from him. You look at Estelle, who is trying to avoid your gaze, as you take the box. 

“Why didn’t you text me?” 

“I didn’t want to see it anymore,” He maneuvers Estelle’s hand into his as you take the box away from him. “That and we were on our way out tonight. What’s wrong with two lovebirds visiting two other lovebirds.” 

Your tongue feels like sandpaper as you try not to yell, cry, throw up, maybe all at once. Spencer is the one who speaks up for you, “We aren’t in a relationship,” 

“Oh, so you’re just screwing my leftovers?” 

Spencer is trying to keep calm, but his grip on the edge of his door is tightening, and he can hear the anger in his voice as he says, “Have some respect.” 

He feels Josh’s laughter at his comment coarse through his veins like a non-luminescent flame; venom rises on his tongue before he feels a soft hand touching his arm. Your eyes are wide and sorrowful as you silently shake your head at him. It’s enough to make him stand down but not enough to stop him from attempting to kill your ex-boyfriend with a glare. 

“Thank you, Josh. I hope the two of you have a lovely evening.” You say as you motion for Spencer to close the door, and you let out a shaky sigh as he does, the door closing with a light click. “Thought I packed everything,” you whisper as you walk back to the dining room table, setting the box on the floor next to you. As you sit back in your chair to eat, Spencer stands awkwardly next to you for a second, his eyes looking at the box before he tears them away and sits in his seat. 

It is quiet, so quiet and tense that Spencer can hear everything. His senses are attuned to any signs of distress from you, but none do. You look up from your Chinese food after a while and give him a little confused look. He’s sure he’s looking at you strangely, so he decides he can’t handle the silence anymore. “Why are you still nice to him?” 

You look back down at your food as you poke at pieces of broccoli and celery. You sigh gently as your shoulders slump, “What’s the point of being mean? He has Estelle. He thinks he’s won whatever our break-up was. I can’t fight that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Can’t argue with someone who doesn’t think they’re in the wrong, Spence.” 

Spencer draws his lips into a tight line and looks at his food, slowly twirling some soy-covered noodles on his fork. “I guess not, but it still isn’t fair to you.” 

“None of this is fair, but I can’t control it. I can only control myself. He didn’t listen the first time, and he won’t listen the second time. I’d be wasting my breath.” You huff out sharply as you take a bite of soy-covered broccoli. Spencer raises his gaze to meet yours and smiles apologetically, but he doesn’t have to say the words as he watches you chew. You’re already shaking your head with amusement in your eyes. 

After a few more minutes of silent eating, you glance at the box by your feet and playfully ask, “You want to see what we got?” 

Spencer wants to tell you that it’s your stuff. You probably already know what is inside, but he figures you already know that. You’re just trying to make the situation less tense. So, he nods, “Yeah,”

You clap your hands together quickly before leaning down to grab the box. You look up at him and count down slowly, “Three… Two… One!” Your fingers open the box as you laugh. 

Spencer doesn’t need to lean over the table to see what is inside the box as you slowly start pulling items from the box and holding them up proudly. A half-read book, bookmarks, pens, earrings, necklaces, and then your fingers stall. You slowly pull out a photo of Josh’s family with yours, the two of you in the middle. You frown a little as you show Spencer, and he wonders what he should say in an attempt to comfort you. 

But you’re gently turning the photo back to you and tracing the edges. Then you smile, a genuine smile. It’s the last thing Spencer expects from you as you whisper, “It was a great vacation, you know? I kept asking for those cocktails with the little umbrella, and Josh’s mom and I kept talking about–” You cut yourself off.

You look up at Spencer, “Well, it was great.” 

Spencer wanted to grab you by your shoulder and shake you out of it, and he didn’t understand how you could be so happy to remember your time with Josh when the relationship ended so badly. How could you give Josh another one of your smiles? 

“I know it seems dramatic,” you sigh as you set the picture back into the box. “But Monday, I was just at work and felt free… if that makes any sense?” 

Spencer shook his head slightly, indicating he did not understand what you were saying. You bit your lip a little as you tried to suppress a smile, “When I took a second to think about Josh and me. I realized that…he hadn’t been the person I fell in love with for a long time. He hasn’t been that person for a whole year. That’s the funny thing about love: you’re supposed to love a person as they change. I think I’m still holding onto Josh from a year ago. The Josh from right before I moved in.”

Spencer nodded along silently, trying his hardest to relate. As far as he could tell, Spencer had only been in love once. He never got to the part that you were talking about. He barely got to meet her before she died. When you were still dating Josh, you asked Spencer if there was someone, and he told you a little bit about his someone– his Maeve. His headaches, her intelligence, their romance, and how he lost her just when he was about to have her. 

He remembers how you teared up and how easy it felt to hug you. He wasn’t fond of hugging people when he was upset. He wanted to protect himself from showing too much to most people, but you weren’t most people. You were the first person he could dream about again, making him hope for the maybe. 

But that hope for something more with you didn’t matter much when you were right in front of him, telling him you were holding onto a version of Josh long gone. He didn’t know what to say if he was being honest. Matters of the heart always make him stumble around a little, and he always feels like he says the wrong things. 

You shift in your seat before you say a sweet, “I’m going to okay, really okay.” And Spencer believes you. 

Day Two Hundred and Twenty-Five

Spencer helped you move into your new apartment at the beginning of the month. It was ten minutes from your old complex and, according to Spencer, ‘too far away for him to keep an eye on you.’ If you were being honest, you were happy to be alone for the first time since the break-up. 

Spencer was a great friend, the best friend, for letting you crash on his couch for an entire month. You got to see a more intimate version of him, too. You had told him that you’d felt like a burden initially, but by the end, you couldn’t end but feel ashamed of yourself. 

Spencer would come home and try to push you out of the kitchen as you made dinner. If he couldn’t, then he would insist on helping you. He would sit on the couch with you, and if you were interested in something he wasn’t a fan of, he would say, 'This could be the movie that changes my mind.’ He was so sweet, caring, and overwhelmingly supportive that you couldn’t help but develop a soft spot for him. It made you feel sick to think that maybe Josh was right– maybe you did have feelings for Spencer. So, you gave it a few weeks when you moved into your new apartment. 

There was no way Josh was right. You tried to remember all the ways that Spencer Reid was off-limits. He was your best friend. He had seen you sob over Legally Blonde and then critiqued it until you laughed, face raw from tears. He had seen you cry over a burnt roast one stormy evening last week. Even if you did have feelings for Spencer, it was unlikely he reciprocated those feelings. You were too much of a mess. 

Being away from him helped you shove any feelings for him deep into the ridges of your mind and process everything. You didn’t have time to focus on Spencer or men in general. No, you need to focus on yourself for a while. 

You decided to avoid hanging out with Spencer until the ballet in two and a half weeks, and it didn’t seem like a bad idea. You could sort through your emotions to see if they were something real or an intense version of friendship—friendly affection and nothing more. 

With no Spencer, no one to come home to at night, and no one to embarrass yourself to, one thing was evident for the weeks ahead. It was going to be an incredibly dull two and a half weeks. 

Day Two Hundred and Forty-Five

You kept glancing at the clock at work. Friday night, tonight at six. The ballet wasn’t until eight, but Spencer and you had dinner plans. You canceled the reservation that was initially intended for Josh and you and changed it to a restaurant you actually enjoyed. And if you were being honest… you were excited to see Spencer, have a nice dinner, and see Swan Lake. 

It seemed like the perfect evening. After spending the past two and a half weeks mulling over your feelings and what they were toward Spencer. You decided you couldn’t do it. Spencer Reid was untouchable. He was your friend, and pridefully, you couldn’t let Josh’s accusations become true. It felt wrong, dirty. So you decided that no matter your feelings for Spencer, they would ultimately calm down and return to the good-natured platonic feelings they once were– if they were ever platonic, you didn’t know. You were still figuring that part out. 

The second you got home, you dove into your closet. Back in college, you used to joke that every location had a theme, and a part of you still believed that. You were careful when choosing your outfit. Black was a classic, and you had debated it against a different dress in a color that looked good against your skin. Ultimately, the elegant black ruched dress you had hanging up in your closet won. You had better shoes for it anyway. 

The way you were getting ready was a little frantic, accompanied by the fact that Spencer insisted on picking you up since you now lived closer to the restaurant. You were scared you didn’t have enough time. 

Primping and preening would have to be cut in half. Ultimately, you still had ten minutes to get ready before Spencer texted you to let you know he was on his way. Your hair was done in a stylish way that framed your face just right, your skin moisturized and glittering, and your makeup done to be clean and slightly romantic. 

You were pulling on a pair of low pumps when you heard his soft knocking at your door. You glanced at your bedroom door and let out a soft groan of frustration as you struggled with a strap on one of the shoes, “It’s open!” You trip a little as you rush across the room for your bag, so the words come out slightly stumbled. 

Nonetheless, Spencer hears it, and you can hear the front door opening. “You know, even if it is for my benefit, you shouldn’t do that.” You hear him call out from your living room, along with the sound of something rustling. 

You smile and shake your head as you try to pick between a pair of earrings, “But, it was for you. You can walk back out, and I’ll lock it again, just for you.” 

“Alright, I can drive home right now.” 

“And leave me all alone tonight? You wouldn’t dare.” You laugh out as you take one last look at yourself in the mirror and slowly smooth out your dress's fabric. A small voice in your head whispers, “Dates always make me nervous.” You feel your cheeks burn at the idea that this is a date–you remind yourself it isn’t. 

This is just two friends hanging out, platonically. You look at yourself in the mirror as you silently convince yourself that friends hang out all the time. You can hear Sabrina’s voice in your head; after you told her that you were going to the ballet with Spencer, she said, “‘Me and my hot friends always go on platonic dates that definitely won’t lead to anything, ever.’” 

You cringe inwardly at the memory, shaking off your anxieties as you open your bedroom door and step out. The first thing you notice is the bouquet of flowers in his hands—your favorite flowers mixed amongst baby’s breath and eucalyptus leaves. You gasp softly and give him a broad smile, “You got me flowers?” 

Spencer's eyes haven’t met yours yet as they trail down your body. He’s trying not to stare at you like a creep, honest. But it’s near impossible to pull his eyes away from how you look in that dress, his gaze meeting yours, hoping you didn’t catch him staring at you like a hungry dog. 

“Yeah. Yes, I did. I saw them at the store and thought you’d like them.” He’s a lousy liar. 

You smile wide as you take them out of his hands and go into the kitchen to find a vase for them. “Now, why did you just lie?” You call him out with a soft laugh. 

Spencer frowns a little, knowing he can’t give you the real reason. Because I haven’t seen you in two weeks and I didn’t think it was possible to miss someone who was only ten minutes away. Because I can’t stop thinking about you. Because I feel like I can actually think clearly when you’re around. Because you make my mind slow to a steady beat that doesn’t scare me… Because… Because… “Flowers can have a long-term and immediate effect on a person’s mood. Most of the moods associated with flowers are joy, empathy, hope, pride, and love, to name a few. I just wanted to make you,” he pauses as his lips form a tight-lipped smile, “feel the associated emotions.” And it is partially truthful. 

You like that answer enough as you cut the stems shorter, fill the vase with water halfway, and carefully slip the bouquet into the vase. “Well, I do feel happy…” You trace one of the stems with a feather touch. “And, I do feel pretty,” you pause as you sing a little, slightly off-key, “and witty, and–” 

“Please, no. I just got that song out of my head!” Spencer says as his hands fly to his ear dramatically. He can recognize that laugh in a pitch-black room; his smile hurts his cheeks. 

As you rearrange the flowers, you glance at Spencer’s outfit and feel something akin to butterflies in your stomach (maybe just a little lower). His look isn’t far off from his work clothes. The same dark plum tie against his light grape button-up long sleeve. Sometimes, he wears a cardigan with it, but he’s sporting a grey blazer right now. Same slacks, different shoes. Same Spencer, neater hair. 

“Did you get a haircut? It looks…” As you slowly leave the rearranged flowers, you trail off and walk to him, staring up at his hair. “Tame." you finish with a smile. 

Spencer looks down into your eyes and shakes his head slowly, “No, haircut. Just had a stroke of luck.” But he can see your hand coming up to his hair, and he’s too slow to stop you as you ruffle his hair lightly and gasp. 

“Gel!” You squeal as he grabs your right hand by the wrist and pulls it away from his hair. You’re giggling too much to notice how intimate this could look to someone on the outside. “Good luck, my ass.” 

“Apologies for wanting to look good next to you. I’ll never try again.” 

“I like your hair as it is.” You say as he drops your wrist and takes a small step back. “And we always look good together, excuse you.” 

He wants to tell you that it sounds wrong when you say it like that, but he doesn’t want to interrupt that smile on your face, so he just wordlessly nods before checking his watch. 

Before he can get the words out, you quickly grab your bag and say, “Reservation is in twenty. We must make haste!” 

The restaurant wasn’t too far, but you had a thing with time, and you didn’t want to be late for the ballet at eight, so when the hostess said your table was already ready when you and Spencer arrived— a wave of relief washed over your anxious bones. 

It was a fine dinner, with delightful conversation– witty banter and laughs. When Spencer left for the bathroom, you watched him as you happily sipped on your water. You felt a soft tap on your shoulder that caused your head to turn, a pretty woman looking at you with stars in her eyes. 

“You and your boyfriend are so sweet,” 

You felt hot all over, “Oh,” you shake your head a little, “He’s n-” 

“You two bounce off each other so well; I’ve never heard anything like it! Honey,” she looks to her girlfriend across the table, “Have you ever heard two people so good– Don’t give me that look. She thinks I’m nosy, never mind her opinion,” A sharp laugh comes from her girlfriend, “I just hope you know that the two of you are adorable!” 

You smile politely and force yourself not to sink into your chair, “Thank you,” you squeak softly. She nods with a large grin as she turns back to her dinner, and you awkwardly do the same, poking gently at your food with your fork. 

Spencer can see how you’re slumped a little in your chair, breathing heavily, as you slowly shake your head. He can’t help but wonder what happened in the five minutes he was away from the table. He places a soft hand on your forearm as he sits down and whispers, “What’s wrong?” 

Your eyes meet his, and you let the caramel color of his eyes bring you back to reality. “Just a bad memory,” You flash him a fake smile, gently pulling your arm away from his grip. You look down at your meal, then at him, “What’s the time?” 

Spencer’s pulling back his sleeve, his eyes holding your gaze before glancing at the time. “7:18.” 

You nod, taking another sip of your water, “It’s only fifteen away,” Your voice sounds off, and Spencer can feel his brows furrowing at the sound. 

“Did I do someth–”

“No,” you say quickly. Your gaze looks uneased, but your touch on his hand is soft with concern. “No, Spence. I’m just in my head, thinking too many things at once. I’ll be okay.” 

Spencer tries to relax over your words, but he knows something is wrong—something you don’t want to discuss with him. He slowly nods and says gently, “Okay,” And lets it slide. 

For a second, there is a beat of palatable silence, and Spencer can feel his skin itch due to the lack of sound at the table. He didn’t mind comfortable silences in rooms with you, but this was hardly comfortable. So he did the best thing he knew how to do, “You know,” your eyes land on his, “Ballet originated during the Italian Renaissance, the fifteenth century actually. However, it wasn’t until the sixteenth century that it was brought to France by Catherine de Medici.” 

You mouthed a soft ‘oh,’ Spencer continued before you could say more. “She showed the first ‘meal fork’ in court too!” Spencer said with a nod, taking his fork in hand and making an excited face at you. 

You smile wide at that and laugh openly at him, “Are you trying to cheer me up by talking about a dead Queen of France right now?” 

“That depends, is it working?” 

You shrug a little, playful and dismissive, “I haven’t decided yet.” 

Spencer liked his lips, and he stared at you for a second, “Catherine De Medici was notoriously Catholic and played a center role in the St. Bartholomew’s Day massacre, which was a ploy to wipe out Hugo-” 

“Are we ready for the check?” The waiter’s voice interrupted Spencer’s mini-rant. A slight frown appeared on your face as you looked at your almost-finished food and gave the waiter a slight nod.

When he walked away to grab the check, your hands reached for your purse, “Hey! Put the card down.” Spencer snipped at you as he smacked your card with his own, earning a chuckle from you. 

“Don’t tell me you’re going to pay, Spencer. It’s an expensive me-” 

“View it as a thank you for all the meals you ma-” 

“I’m the one who invited you out-” 

The waiter now stood at the edge of the table as he nervously set down the check, and your hand flew to it. Spencer’s hand is faster than yours as he grabs the check, slides his card in it without glancing at the cost, and hands it back to the waiter. When his gaze met yours again, you’re frowning at him—a playful kind of frown, but a frown. “What?” His voice cracks softly. 

“Curse you and your long, attractive fingers, Dr. Reid. I could have paid. I was happy too, you know?” 

“I know, I know, but I just couldn’t help but think about how kind you’ve been to me, and I– you think my fingers are attractive?” 

Your cheeks flush a little, suck in a breath, and shake your head. “I think you’re imagining things, Spencer. I said ‘hyperactive’.” 

He raises an eyebrow as you try to gaslight someone with an eidetic memory, but when he thought about teasing you further, all he could think about was your sad, distant face just moments ago. So, he decides that maybe he should keep his mouth shut– this time. “Hyperactive it is.” 

You know he’s being nice; he definitely heard you say his hands were attractive. But he’s a saint. He let you crash on his couch for a month and never expected any money out of it. He let you cry on his shoulder and monopolize his television—not to mention his free time. He was so compassionate and kind that he made it hard for you to deny the fluttering feeling in your chest as you look at him in the restaurant's dim light. “Thank you,” 

“Happy to do it,” His voice is soft as the waiter slowly returns with his card, but his eyes are glued to your face. The look in your eyes can only be described as appetency… no, tenderness, or maybe endearment. All he knows is that you’re looking around the restaurant with eyes shining with sweet and loving emotion, barely meeting his. 

The drive to the theatre wasn’t too long, and the two of you had managed to get a nice parking spot, considering the traffic. The seats were in the lower mezzanine section, a selection that was mostly for you when you originally booked it. You could still hear Josh’s voice as he questioned why you weren’t going for the closer, more intimate orchestra section. You liked seeing the dancers, yes, but you loved the stage work too. In your opinion, the view of all the dancers on stage, with the props complimenting their movements, made the show more enjoyable. 

You glance over nervously at Spencer as he sits down next to you. You shift in your seat a little as you whisper. “I’m sorry the seats aren’t closer. I like seeing the whole stage.” You motion to the stage with your hand. 

Spencer smiles and shakes his head before tilting his head a little lower to whisper back, “The seats are perfect.” Then he’s taking your hand in his and giving it a little squeeze, and you think you might explode. 

You feel a little nauseous, a twisting feeling slowly forming into a giddy excitement in your stomach. The theater's lights start to dim, but Spencer doesn’t let go of your hand. Instead, he maneuvers your hand to the armrest between the two of you and gently lays his palm upon the back of yours. 

You struggle for a second as you move your head to look at the stage. Your eyes are glued to the stage now, watching intently as the Prologue begins. 

The tension is almost forgotten about halfway through the pas de trois, but you can feel his breath softly against your ear before he even speaks, “Most ballet companies in America follow the 1895 revival. The choreographer’s, Marius Petipa, pas de trois remains nearly unchanged in most Swan Lake productions today.” 

You glance at him to see that his face is closer to yours than you’d like it to be, but you give him a soft sound of interest as your heart thumps in your chest. He seems grateful for the sound as he leans away from you, his eyes lingering on yours, and he reluctantly turns his gaze back to the stage. 

Slowly, you follow suit, replicating his movements, but not before you find your eyes dipping down to his hand on your still. You smile softly as you watch one ballerina get lifted off the ground for a second. 

During the first intermission between Acts, you told Spencer you wanted to get some fresh air. You felt hot all over during the scene of Odette’s reveal as Spencer went from placing his palm on top of yours to gently lacing his fingers through yours. When the first intermission started, you decided you needed to get outside and breathe. 

And it hit you. 

When you were with Josh for the last few months, you would feel an itch to get away, to run a floor down. When he missed the point of a joke, you’d make a mental note to repeat it to Spencer later. All the dates should have been with Josh: the foreign movies, the painting, poetry readings, this ballet. You felt a twisting in your gut as you realized that Josh was right. You had stopped wanting him a long time ago. You stopped seeking him out in a crowd. Instead, your eyes had started looking for a tall brunette with the sweetest smile you’d ever seen. Spencer was suddenly the person you thought about when you heard a lovely song, saw something interesting at the store, or had a bad day— not Josh. 

When did that happen? You felt like crying, breathing hard against the theater's outside wall. You felt thousands of questions racing through your mind, but one reverberated loudly: Does Spencer know?

You felt your mouth turn to cotton at the idea of Spencer Reid knowing you’re helplessly in love with him. Oh my god, you’re in love with Spencer Reid. 

When did you stop loving Josh? Did you stop loving him the second you ran up to Spencer in the apartment’s parking lot? Maybe it was when he saw that your shoelace was untied one rare late-night walk in the park together, and he stooped down to tie it for you? Or when he annotated Jane Austen’s Persuasion as a random ‘just because’ gift? When did your love for Josh stop and your love for Spencer begin? The answer didn’t matter much now because now you know. 

You’re in love with Spencer Reid, but he can’t know.

It was too risky a move. He was your friend above all else. Then, there was the matter of your pride and dignity. Josh was right, and you didn’t want him to be. You had unintentionally destroyed a two-year relationship; how could you let yourself be happy after that? How could you be happy after broken promises of marriage, growing old together? 

The lights flickered to signify the end of the intermission, and you slipped back into the theatre with a calm smile. Your cheeks were red when you caught sight of him again, and there he was, reading the program. As you got closer, it was like he could feel you in the air. His head lifted toward your direction, and his eyes met yours instantaneously. But how could you not love those eyes? Honey-filled irises that crinkled around the edges when he smiled. Wild, wavy, brown hair that curled around the edges of his face. You feel like crying again. 

He could tell. His expression shifted to concern as you took your seat next to him, “Everything alright?” His voice was barely a whisper. 

Forcing a smile, you nod and gently whisper, “Allergies,” as your weak excuse. 

Nonetheless, it worked for Spencer as he gave you a nod. At least he let you think it worked. His eyes drifted over to you occasionally as the next act started. Sometimes, his eyes would meet yours, and he would give you a sweet smile before staring intensely at the stage. 

He was sure he had done something wrong. He was sure it was how he held your hand during the previous act. He knew he shouldn't have pushed that boundary, but when you didn’t move your hand away from him the whole act, he felt ecstatic— shamelessly so.

Spencer tried to keep his hand busy when you left during intermission. He wanted to trace his thumb against your knuckles, feel the size of your palm against his, and know the lines of your palm forevermore. He was being selfish. So, the paper program was the best way for him to pass the time. 

But these feelings for you that he had just kept getting in the way. When you moved to your new apartment, he knew you were avoiding him. The why was the part Spencer couldn’t figure out. He wondered what he could have done wrong so often that he was sure he would grovel at your feet the next time he saw you. Then he saw you tonight, and he couldn’t understand why he ever let you leave his apartment in the first place. 

When he saw you step out of your bedroom, his heart sank, and he knew. He knew he couldn’t intellectualize these feelings away– couldn’t deny them any longer. His hands yearned to touch you like they yearned to turn the page of a good book. His eyes searched for you in every crowd. He thought of roaming through stores near your apartment, hoping he might run into you, though he talked himself out of it multiple times. You were the only thing on his mind these days. Last week, when the team was in Detroit, he saw someone who looked like you and almost grabbed their hand in the middle of the precinct. 

Spencer's eyes drifted to you again near the end of the second to last act. Two intermissions, almost three acts and you still seemed off. You still gave him a sweet smile and let him whisper little facts to you here and there, but you didn’t seem like yourself. It seemed like you were hiding something from him. 

During the last act, he was practically lost in thought as he watched the dramatic scenes of Swan Lake play out in front of him. He was sure his eyebrows were pinched together as his fingers rubbed circles on the armrest, eyes darting around the stage with the Swan Queen’s movements. 

That was until the final scene. Every ballet company was different, but this one decided they liked a tragic ending better. As Odette begins to throw herself into the lake, he feels your hands grab his. Spencer jumps at the feeling, his eyes darting over to you with a concerned expression, but you’re staring straight at the stage. 

Your hand held onto his tight as the lovers killed themselves, and you were tearing up. He couldn’t look away; you were so enraptured. Spencer felt guilty for not being as enthralled as you had been all night. He was so busy silently panicking over what was different with you that he forgot to be in the moment with you. He squeezes your hand gently as the music hits its crescendo. He could feel the music taking hold of him, grabbing him just as tight as you had moments prior. It wasn’t just Siegfried following Odette off a ledge. Spencer felt he would, too, if you asked him. Was this the caress of love?

He had to force himself to watch the stage as the lovers reunited in the afterlife, and then you’re letting go of his hand and clapping with a brilliant smile on your face. He claps, too, but he’s only looking at you– throwing silent praises to you. 

When the rows start to clear out, you feel better. The performance successfully gets your mind off your worries concerning Spencer, and as the two of you walk to his car, you’re linking your arm with him. “Can I share a fun fact?” 

You can feel the soft shake of Spencer’s diaphragm against your forearm as he chuckles, “When have I ever turned that down?” 

You shrug a little in response to his rhetorical question, “When Soviet leaders died in the eighties, the government would play recorded performances of Swan Lake on television broadcasts, unintentionally making the public associate the ballet with the deaths of their leaders and political instability.” You give him a silly little face of mock surprise at the end of it, and he’s laughing. 

Spencer leans closer to you under the parking lot street lamps, his car coming into view. “Can I tell you a secret?” 

You frown as you pull away slightly to look up at him, your feet slowing slightly, “You already knew that?” 

Spencer lets out a faux sigh of disappointment as he gives you a solemn nod of confirmation. You shake your head in disbelief as you let go of his arm and walk toward the passenger seat. Spencer follows you, intending to open your door for you, but you don’t seem to notice how close he is as you pull on the locked car door. “Move for me,” When Spencer says it, you feel your legs unintentionally becoming jelly at the tone of his voice: soft, deep, and cracking slightly. 

You step aside for him as he unlocks his car and opens the door for you. You give him an affectionate grin as you slide into the passenger seat and watch Spencer round the front of his car to the driver’s side. You had to give him credit where credit was due; Spencer Reid could be damn charming when he wanted to be. 

On the ride home, he continues with his persistent pursuit of unconscious charm, “Maybe we should go see Sleeping Beauty, or maybe Coppéila if you want to watch something comical?” 

You giggle softly at his suggestions as you give him a skeptical glance to the side, “I didn’t know you liked ballet so much,” 

Spencer’s cheeks feel hot, “I don’t,” he admits in a raw voice. 

You turn your head to stare at him with a gentle expression as Spencer’s hands tighten around the wheel, knuckles turning white. You observe him carefully as his bottom lip is nervously drawn into his mouth for a second, his eyes flickering over to you as he flashes you a meek smile. It feels like a sick joke, Spencer being in love with you. It was exhilarating, euphoric, excruciating, and unbearable all at once. You had already made the self-declaration that you would keep your feelings to yourself and decided that you couldn’t let yourself be happy with Spencer– not after what you had done to Josh. The guilt ate away at you as you stared at him, a lame ‘oh’ falling from your lips as you swallowed hard. 

“I just,” he began, “I mean–” he sighs out with frustration, “I just like going places with you.” He settles as he glances from the road to you, his grip on the wheel relaxing. You smile and nod in agreement. 

“Me too,” you whisper, and the conversation dies off for a second. 

Spencer rectifies the situation the only way he knows how "Coppélia was actually based on a dark fantasy about a man’s disastrous infatuation with a life-like doll called Der Sandmann, quite literally translated as The Sandman, by E.T.A Hoffman.” 

“Oh, so Pygmalion and Galatea.” 

“Yes! And Pinocchio, Frankenstein, Herbert West-Reanimator, My Fair Lady-” 

You hold up a hand, “Wait, My Fair Lady?” You question with delighted interest. 

“The play it was based on is called Pygmalion. Henry Higgins shapes Eliza Doolittle into a lady, and he falls in love with her.” 

The way Spencer says it sounds so direct, never demeaning or snobbish, you nod a little at the connection. “You ever listen to My Fair Lady?” 

Spencer opens his mouth to affirm that he has, but he falters. It seems like something his mother would have liked him to listen to with her, but they never have. “No,” his voice was quiet. 

You gasp and point over to him teasingly, “Uncultured,” 

“It’s one thing! I’m plenty cultured! The play Pygmalion covers-” 

“I know, but you haven’t heard of Julie Andrews!” 

“I have! Penelope made me watch all of The Sound of Music-” He’s cut off by the sound of you giggling softly in the passenger seat. “You’re messing with me.” 

“Just a little,” You snicker beside him, relaxing as you watch Spencer take the familiar turns toward your apartment. You stare at the passing streets as you let out a content sigh, eyes closing slowly. Silently reflecting on the night, pushing mini-panic attacks aside, it’s the first time you’ve felt so serene in a long time. “Thank you for tonight, Spence.” 

He beams at your thanks and mutters a sweet, “Thank you for allowing me to take you out,” 

You roll your head against the seat as he pulls into a spot, “As if I’d ever say no to you.” You whisper back to him, catching a love-struck look from him that has you sitting up straight, grabbing your bag, and opening your car door. 

You shouldn’t be surprised when Spencer gets out of his car and locks it. “Let me walk you up,” he insists gently. 

“I’m okay-” 

“Please,” His words are accompanied by his hazel eyes, both begging you so sweetly that you find yourself nodding wordlessly. 

This time, the silence sticks as Spencer walks by your side to your apartment complex. It’s a short walk from the parking lot to the second floor, and soon, the two of you stand outside apartment 240. You fidget with your keys slowly as you turn around to face him; you watch him awkwardly shuffle on his feet– seemingly unsure of what to do with himself, you were sure. 

“Well, this is me.” You feel stupid saying it, but you can’t stop yourself. You knew this wasn’t a date, so why does it feel like the end of one? 

Spencer licks his lips nervously and softly says, “Yeah, it is.” 

You give him a faint smile but can’t find the strength to step back from him and open your door. You should get inside. A voice in you is screaming Go inside! Don’t you dare! But you don’t seem to listen as you tilt your head to the side. “I had a great time,” 

Spencer grins and nods, his eyes looking at your door for a second before gazing back into yours. “Any notable moments?” 

Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it. “Holding your hand through the first act was lovely,” Fuck you!

Spencer seems to perk up slightly, his heart beating faster as he takes a small step closer to you. “It was lovely?” He questions you carefully, noticing how your pupils dilate a little under his gaze. 

“I thought so. It was very” You swallow as you search for some smidgen of confidence “Charming. You’ve been charming all night, actually.” 

“I think you’re the only person in the world who thinks that,” He teases softly, a twinkle in his hazel eyes as he takes another step closer. 

You shake your head, a giddy grin spreading on your face. “No, a lady at the restaurant thought we made a pretty charming couple.” 

“Ah,” He holds up two fingers, “So two people.” 

You give him a sweet chuckle and hold two fingers with him. “And your mom, maybe, " you say as you hold up three fingers. 

“I should make a list,” 

“Your favorite hobby.” You say in a joking whisper. His body was close enough to touch now, and you were frozen– stuck between wanting to get inside and wanting to touch him in any way he’d let you. Your eyes kept trekking down to his feet, watching as they took careful steps closer before looking up at his eyes again. And for the first time all night, you let them dip down to his lips. 

Spencer feels his breath catch in his throat, his body already hyper-aware of your presence. He’s silently debating over closing the gap between the two of you, and he fears that seeing that– a physical sign that you want him the way he wants you, confirms that he should. Only, there's the matter of how. He wants to be romantic and bold. He just wants to grab your waist and pull you in, but he can’t. 

It’s you that initiates something, “The longest kiss ever recorded was fifty-eight hours,” 

Spencer feels like laughing, and he does—a small chuckle escapes his lips as he finds the courage to reach for your waist. When his fingers wrap around it, he gently pulls you toward him, his chest bumping against yours for a second. “Let’s not compete with that,” He whispers to you gently as one of his hands cups the side of your face, his nose bumping against yours slightly as you smile wide. The witty comeback that attempts to leave your lips doesn’t stand a chance as Spencer’s lips capture yours. 

Your eyes flutter shut as you lean up to get a better angle in the kiss. His lips are soft and smooth as they press against yours. He pulls away a little, but you reconnect your lips quickly. Spencer slowly presses into you, the hand on your waist pressing down in a way that sends electricity up your spine. 

Your hands reach for his tie, pulling him closer with a soft motion. The kiss deepens at that. A shaky breath can be heard from Spencer as he moves the hand that was cupping your cheek to the nape of your neck, his fingertips grazing your hair. 

You let out a soft hum as you pull at his bottom lip, pulling away momentarily just to kiss him again. Your breathing gets slightly heavier as you tentatively trace your tongue against his bottom lip. As Spencer slowly invites your tongue into his mouth, a door slams shut down the hall, and you pull away. 

Your eyes open as your hands leave Spencer’s tie and fly to your lips. You stutter gently as Spencer slowly pulls his hands away from you, his chest rising and falling heavily as he whispers, “Did I-”

You shake your head before he can finish, and you remember the keys still in your hand, holding them up, “No, I-” You stutter over your words gently as you turn to unlock the door, “I- I have to, I can’t,” you manage a shaky sigh, glancing over your shoulder at him, “Goodnight.” 

Spencer watches your eyes look away from his, slipping into your apartment before he can get a word in. He stares at the numbers on your door for a second, feeling a dreadful pit forming in his stomach. “Goodnight.” His voice is timid as he speaks to the closed door and turns, walking back to his car alone. 

Day Two Hundred and Fifty

Spencer has been out of it all week. He isn’t sleeping much or reading as much, and now, he’s lagging with this geographical profile. He excelled in this area, and he needed to focus on it. He needed to stop worrying about why you haven’t returned his calls all week—well, for the past four days, thirty-seven minutes—Focus!

He sighed as he traced a street with his fingers, a marker in the other, and focused on the previous dump sights. He mutters quietly as he outlines a district on the map, leaning back slightly as he lets himself get lost in his work. This feels good—almost calming. 

JJ touches his arm, indicating that she is talking to him, and he hasn’t heard a single word. “I’m sorry,” He sighs as he looks at her.

JJ shakes her head a little, a silent way of letting him know that she doesn’t take offense. “Rossi and Morgan just found another victim.” Her fingers point to a location inside the outlined area on the map, and Spencer makes a note. If he can focus on this case, he feels they might have a profile before the UnSub’s next kill. 

Day Two Hundred and Fifty-Nine 

It had been two weeks since Spencer last saw you. Since you last spoke to him, touched him, or kissed him. He felt like he was losing one of his best friends and someone who could be the love of his life all at once. It was devastating. He had occasionally been short with the team, always quick with his apology and briefly explaining that he was going through something personal.

He didn’t want to be this tall, awkward ball of misery. He hated this feeling. At the moment, fourteen days ago, you seemed to be happy to kiss him. It seemed like the fatal mistake that was killing his relationship with you. He had tried to keep his calls maxed out one a day, three a week. Instead, he called you seven times in two weeks. He was starting to feel desperate as he listened to your voicemail message for the seventh time. He sighed as he looked around the BAU break room. 

“Hey, uh, it’s me. I was just wondering if you wanted to talk… again.” He repeated parts of his last message as he groaned softly before whispering a gentle “I’m really sorry” into the phone. He hangs up in a hurry, seeing Derek rounding the corner. 

His phone clatters on the table as Derek gives Spencer an odd stare. It’s a stare that says, ‘To-talk-to-pretty-boy-to-not-talk-to-pretty-boy-that-is-the-question.’

Derek decides that he should talk to Pretty Boy after all. “Does the boy genius have any plans for the weekend?” He decides that casual conversation might be the best way to get Spencer to open up. 

Spencer shakes his head, dragging his gaze from Derek back to his phone on the table. Derek lets out a hum as he stares at Spencer’s phone. “Waiting on a call from someone?” 

“No, yes, I-” Spencer sighs as he slumps a little in the chair, “I don’t know.”

“Is that what’s been bugging you for the past two weeks? Expecting an important call?” Derek asks as he fills his coffee mug up. Spencer gives him a little annoyed look that slowly melts into one of uncertainty. “Reid,” Derek says his name with a grin, taking the seat across from Spencer. “JJ caught you mumbling something about some ballet two weeks ago in Seattle, and you got defensive when she asked why you were talking about the ballet. Then, when Hotch asked you what was happening in Tampa, you got defensive again.” 

He stares at Spencer with a kind smile, “If you need to get something off your chest, I’m happy to listen.” 

Spencer finds himself chewing on his bottom lip as he slowly nods, “I know. I’ve been avoiding talking about it with the team because I,” he pauses, looking at Derek. “I think I messed up.” It’s the best he can manage. He doesn’t feel like opening up when he knows he should, and he wants to be patient with his feelings. He wanted you to reach out on your own time, but he didn’t want to keep with this silent torture he kept experiencing day after day. 

Derek gave him a slightly concerned look, “Messed up how? Something with a case or worse?” Spencer stares at him for a second as he tries to read between the lines of Derek’s question. Once it comes to him, he quickly shakes his head ‘no,’ which makes Derek smile. “Is it..” He trails off for a second, his eyes trailing to Spencer’s phone on the table, and it clicks, “No…” 

Spencer feels his cheeks flush as he frowns at Derek’s Cheshire grin. He’s ready for some mandatory teasing when he hears JJ’s voice, “No, what?” She questions Derek with interest as she grabs a bottle of water. 

Spencer desperately shakes his head at Derek, but he’s already spilling what he thinks he knows, “I believe that Mr. Pretty Boy has found a Pretty Girl.” 

JJ releases an excited gasp and walks over to the table. “No way,” She mutters as she stares down at Spencer’s slightly red face, “Is this why you’ve been so weird lately? Trouble in paradise?” 

“It’s not like that,” Spencer retorts softly as he pulls at a loose thread on his button-up. 

“How’d you mess up?” Derek cuts to the chase as he takes a sip of his coffee. 

Spencer looks between JJ and Derek as he struggles to find the right words. His problems surrounding romance are sparse and, previously, tragic. He’s not sure how to go about this. “I, Uhm, might have kissed her.” 

“Kissed who?” JJ presses. 

Spencer looks at Derek, “Do you remember that friend of mine? The one Penelope and you met-” 

“In the bar, yeah. I thought she had a boyfriend?” Derek’s brows furrow. 

Spencer scrunches up his nose a little at the mention of Josh and sighs, “They broke up, and she had plans to see Swan Lake with him two weeks ago as an early anniversary date. She was going to cancel, but I offered to go with her so she didn’t miss out on it.” He continued slowly, looking at both of their faces for some show of emotion. “And at the end of the night, we kissed.” 

Derek sighs, glancing at JJ, who seems to be just as confused as he is. “Kid, that’s a great thing. How is that a mess up?” 

“I don’t know,” Spencer groans, “It all happened so fast, and she looked… perturbed. I think I messed up, and I’ve been trying to get a hold of her ever since, but..” His eyes look at his phone. 

“Maybe she wasn’t ready for it,” JJ offers with a sad smile. 

Derek nods, pointing a little at JJ, “Could be, but you should have seen her with him. All smiles and heart eyes for Reid.” 

Spencer frowns at Derek before looking at JJ pleadingly, “What do I do to fix it?” 

JJ winces a little, twisting her lips, “Spence, it's not something you can control.” 

“I know, I just can’t,” Spencer pauses for a second, looking away. “I thought she wanted to kiss me.” 

Derek laughs a little, earring a slight glare from JJ before he holds up his hands. “Okay, describe it for us.” 

Spencer snaps his head toward Derek. “What?” His voice sounds slightly higher than usual. “No.” 

Derek rolls his eyes. “Just the lead-up,” he explains further, moving his fingers in a circle through the air. 

“No,” Spencer insists again. 

JJ joins this time, “Maybe he’s onto something, come on.” 

Spencer hesitates as he considers it, ultimately deciding it’s worth a shot despite being humiliated. “I walked her up to her door,” JJ nods along, silently giving Spencer some points for being a gentleman in her books. “She said she had a great time, so I asked if any notable moments in the evening stood out to her.” 

Spencer didn’t want to say that he had held your hand through the first act of Swan Lake, but “She said that holding my hand through the first act was lovely.” Derek’s eyebrows raise at that, not expecting something like that from Spencer. 

“And she said I was charming. We briefly joked back and forth, and then it got quiet.” Spencer avoids eye contact, staring holes into the table beneath his fidgeting hands. 

After a beat of silence, JJ whispers, “And then?” 

“She said,” he smiles a little, his eyes still downcast. “That, well, the longest kiss ever recorded was fifty-eight hours long.” 

“Not what you said, what she said.” Derek jokes softly, Spencer’s eyes flicking up to him with a confused gaze. 

“That is what she said,” 

“Oh my god,” JJ covers her lips feebly to hide her smile. 

Spencer can feel the heat reaching the tips of his ears as Derek laughs. “She did!” Spencer whines. He rolls his eyes a little as the laughter continues. “I said that we shouldn’t compete with that, and we kissed. Happy?” 

JJ smiles openly now and nods, her hands moving as she talks. “I think that’s promising.” Spencer sends her a glare, thinking that she is joking at first, but after seeing the earnest look on JJ’s face, he calms down. “Maybe she’s just surprised,” JJ suggests with a convinced nod. 

“It doesn’t make sense, though. Why be so forward with wanting to kiss you just to ignore you after?” Derek's eyes narrow. 

JJ scoffs softly, “She’s scared of her own feelings, Derek.” 

Spencer repeats his question from earlier now, “So what can I do to fix it?” 

Derek and JJ are quiet for a second before JJ says, “We should talk to Penelope.” 

Spencer wasn’t exactly thrilled as two of his closest friends dragged him down the halls to Penelope’s office. Nor was he thrilled to repeat what he had said in the breakroom to JJ and Derek a second time. Now he’s stuck in an office chair with three of his closest friends throwing suggestions on what he should do on the clock when they should all be doing paperwork. 

“Send her a gift basket!” 

“I’m not trying to bribe her into being my girlfriend, Penelope.” 

Penelope coos softly, “You want her to be your girlfriend?” 

Spencer lets his head fall into his hands, leaving her question unanswered as JJ jumps onto the suggestion train. “Write her a love letter.” 

Derek lets out a breathy chuckle, “Just go to her apartment,” 

Penelope squeals in agreement, “Yes! A big declaration of love.” 

Spencer was sure that big declarations of love weren’t his thing, and he thought he fell into the range of quiet love. Whispers of adoration? Maybe. Annotated novels? Absolutely. Watching movies out of his comfort zone? Done. Acting out of his comfort zone? He could hardly imagine holding a boombox over his head and screaming your name. But he was running out of options. He had stuck in his comfort zone, and you were ignoring him. “How big of a declaration?” 

It was late. There was so much to do. You were pacing back and forth in your apartment with a book in hand, fingers thumbing at the pages occasionally. Soft music played from your laptop speakers as you ended the second week of ignoring one, Doctor Spencer Reid. 

You had listened to all of his voicemails, some multiple times, but had managed to resist the urge to call him back for two weeks. When your heart got the best of you, you did what you were doing now–listening to variations of dad rock, pop, indie, oldies, classical, anything to drown out the urge to call him back. 

The books were a new addition, as you had given up on making online private playlists last Sunday. 

After holding a conference call with Molly, Sabrina, Christina, and anyone else who would listen, you made a joint decision to keep your feelings to yourself. And by joint decision, you meant ignoring their advice. Sabrina brought up the point that if Josh could physically cheat on you and be happy, you could be happy, too. The rest of your friends agreed in one form or another with that, but you just… couldn’t. You were terrified. 

Josh had left his mark on you. He had cut deep gashes in your self-esteem. In the moments where you weren’t struggling with thinking you were too much, burdensome, or taxing to those you love, you were fretting over the idea that you were a terrible person. Sometimes, in moments of respite, you would reminisce on your time spent with Spencer. 

You wanted to know his opinion, and in another life, you would seek him out and ask for it—the phantom pains of past love gone wrong ghosted over your heart and cursed you. 

Maybe you could be happy with someone else who wasn’t Spencer. Is there anyone dead or alive as good as Spencer Reid? Your thumbs falter on the edge of the page as the thought crosses your mind, your eyes glancing over at the time. 

Setting your book face down on your coffee table, you glide across the room to the lights– you can read and ignore Spencer in bed. As you switch off the kitchen light, a soft knock on your door startles you. Tilting your head around the wall to stare at your front door skeptically, you wait for another knock. 

Two more knocks make you rush to your front door, leaning in to look into the peephole. Your breath catches your throat as you see Spencer Reid rocking back and forth on his heels on the other side. “Go away, Spencer!” You yell through the door, hand holding the locked doorknob cautiously. 

You watch as his face falls into a heartbreaking expression, “Let me just talk to you,” 

“We have nothing to talk about.” 

“Please,” His eyes travel up to the peephole, his eyes somehow managing to make you breathless through the door. “I miss my best friend.” 

You don’t say anything to that, because you miss him too. You watch him silently. His maroon tie against that white button-up reminds you of how you grabbed him two weeks ago– hungry, desperate, starved. 

His eyes cast down to his hands for a second, his mouth opening and closing multiple times until he manages to get out, “Do you remember the first day we met? I helped you carry your groceries, and you asked me if I believed in fate.” His voice sounds shaky and muffled as your fingers play with the lock silently. 

“I told you I don’t, I still don’t.” He stammers softly, a hand combing through his curls roughly. You give up on watching him through the peephole, listening with your forehead pressed against the door. 

After a few seconds of fumbling with his words, he steadies himself. “What I’m trying to say is,” he stares at the door, scared to death you aren’t listening. He gingerly continues, “I don’t care if you need me to believe in fate, love at first sight, soulmates, or predetermined endings– if you need me to, I will.” His legs feel weak at the knees, “If Zeus split my soul in two, please be the other half. If there is a god, if someone created me for anyone, let it be you. If it was fate for me to meet you two-hundred and fifty-nine days ago, let it be fate. If it means I get to love you, I’ll believe in any theology, ideology, or philosophy you need me to.” 

He couldn’t hear anything on the other side of the door. “If you don’t want me, or if you don’t feel the same, I’ll never bring it up again. I’ll go back to being nothing more than your friend, no questions asked, and I’ll be happy to do it.” His chest rises and falls heavily as he finishes, staring holes at your door. He’s sure you’ll ignore him further, make him walk back to his car alone again, or worse, open the door and laugh at his confession. He feels all of his anxieties rising in his throat as he goes to say something else when he hears the rattle of the chain on your door. 

A few more clicks, and the door is swinging open. Spencer sucks in a breath as he catches the sight of you in your pajamas, staring at him a little tongue-tied. How were you supposed to follow that? You stare up at him in silent awe as deep, honeyed eyes meet yours for the first time in weeks. As you stare into his eyes, you realize he meant every word. 

Your eyes fall from his and take the rest of him in, looking from his head to his shoes and back up again. “How many times did you practice that on the way here?” 

“Three,” 

You crack a slow smile at that and nod slowly, not knowing what to say next. You do the only thing you can think of, act. Your left hand reaches up slowly, your feet moving in tandem as you hook your fingers in Spencer’s collar carefully. Your gaze locks on his as you slowly pull him closer to your height, pulling him inches from your face. You wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to believe in anything you, he didn’t need fate or soulmates, none of it mattered anymore, not with him right here in front of you. You focus on how his nose brushes awkwardly against yours for a second and how you can hear his breathing coming out quicker. 

You close your eyes before kissing him, pressing your lips to his softly, timidly. Despite his confession– his begging– you can’t help but feel like it’s all too good to be true. But then, he’s kissing you back. His lips move against yours with the same nervousness, his hands reaching up to cup your face. 

You smile into the kiss as you feel his large palms on your face, making Spencer pull away with a slightly concerned expression for a second, wondering if he’d done something to make you laugh at him. As he stares at your blissful smile, he quickly realizes that you aren’t laughing at him at all. You’re happy, effervescent even, shaking your head at him pulling away. 

He doesn’t make you wait long as he kisses you again, this time with a slight increase in force. A shiver runs down Spencer’s spine as he hears the way you hum into the kiss, the sound making him feel desperate to hear more. 

The two of you stand in your doorway like that for a second, kisses getting deeper and feverish as you pull Spencer to walk with you into your apartment blind. You stumble for a second as you walk backward into your apartment, your lips still locked with his. He pulls away a little at that, tilting your head up with his hands on your cheeks as his thumbs gently rub a single circle against the soft skin. 

“Are you real?” He whispers, inches away from your face. 

You give him a breathless laugh and nod, hands moving to his wrist, your fingers gently tracing the veins on his wrists absentmindedly. Spencer’s foot searches for the edge of the door to kick it closed, but he slips a little and looks at you with soft, doe eyes of apology. 

Pulling away from him carefully, you shut your front door and lock it. You don’t know where to go from here. You hadn’t thought about what you’d do once you had him inside. Music is still playing on your phone, and you can hear a soft, raspy chuckle behind you as Spencer playfully asks. “Is this Brahms?” 

When did this even come on? You sigh as you walk over to your phone to turn the music off, “I missed you too, you know.” You admit into the silent room, your eyes avoiding his. 

“I know,” He replies, and you can hear his footsteps getting closer. Your gaze stays fixed on the floor, looking up in surprise at the feeling of his hands grabbing your waist tentatively. Turning your body to look up, you give him a nervous smile. Spencer’s nerves are shot all over the place as he swallows down his anxieties. “I don’t mind waiting. If you aren’t ready or need more time, I’ve waited for you so long, what’s-” 

“No,” Your voice comes out louder than intended before you clear your throat. “No, I don’t need more time. I’m tired of not forgiving myself. I deserve to be happy, too. I’ve already spent so much time denying myself that.” Your body relaxes in his hands, your chest squeezing pleasantly as you move to be chest to chest with him again. “No more wasting time.” 

Spencer studies your eyes as you speak, searching for some hint of uncertainty, but finds none. He licks his lips nervously, eyes dipping to your lips quickly, “Did you know that men initiate more than seventy percent of kisses?” 

Taking this as an obvious sign that Spencer wants to kiss you again, you move your hands to rest on his shoulders. “Don’t have the exact number?”

“Seventy-nine point seventeen percent.” His voice raises an octave at the feeling of your hands holding onto his shoulders, your body pressing against his gently. 

You nod, half-listening, as you look at his lips, one of your hands sliding up the front of his neck as you hold his chin. The feather-like touch of your thumb on his bottom lip makes him feel dizzy as you whisper, “That’s nice.” 

Spencer’s lips are parted slightly as he gives you a weak-sounding ‘uh-huh’ as he participates in a statistic, gently brushing your thumb away to kiss you again. 

The start of this kiss isn’t nearly as tentative or timid as the last one. His head tilts to the side as he presses his lips against yours, a little needy now as your hands move to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. His eyebrows raise in surprise at the feeling, how you so readily deepen the kiss, how intense this feels. 

Your movements sync with Spencer’s as you kiss each other with fervor. Your knees feel a little weak from a mix of anxiety, excitement, and arousal. The feeling makes your hands hold the back of Spencer’s neck tighter. Your body flush against his as the two of you kiss in the middle of your living room. 

An experimental movement from Spencer earns a sharp inhale from you as his tongue slowly brushes against your bottom lip. Your lips part into the kiss as he slides his tongue into the kiss with surprising skill. It doesn’t feel messy; instead, it’s incredibly controlled. You silently wonder how much practice Spencer has with French kissing and with who? 

The thought is secondary to a terrifyingly primal feeling of arousal that zips up and across your spine as you feel him start to suck your tongue lightly into his mouth. You press against him a little harder, causing the poor man to stumble and lose focus, his skilled lips stopping for a second—a slight pull away to check if you’re alright before he kisses you again. 

Now it's messy—an excellent messy. Not a slobbering mess that you want to pull away from, but a slightly erratic move against your lips that lets you know that he’s just as hungry for you as you are for him. 

Your feet stumble backward, the familiar route to your bedroom in the back of your mind as you try to pull Spencer with you. He follows but reluctantly pulls away, breathless, as he stops short of the doorway to your bedroom. His lips open and close nervously as he catches his breath. “It's not that I don’t, I want to, not that I’m expecting us, I just,” He closes his mouth, swallowing hard as he tries to make head or tails of the situation. “I don’t want you to think I’m only here for…” He trails off, his cheeks growing red as he flicks his hazel eyes over to your bedroom and then back to you. “Sex.” 

It’s terrible because you want to laugh. Spencer has been nervous around you before, but never like this. You’d seen him trip over his words countless times, but this time, watching him explain his intentions toward you, how sweet he looked as he explained himself. How did you go this long in your friendship with him without jumping his bones?

You press a reassuring hand to his arm, “I didn’t think you were.” You watch his shoulders relax a little, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to, just at the moment, I th-” 

“No!” he almost yells, the tips of his ears turning a little pink now. “No, I want to.” He reiterates, “I, well, I, Are you sure it’s okay?” 

Staring up into his eyes, you realize what he’s asking: Is this just a rebound from Josh? Is this the hormones talking? Will this mean anything after tonight? There was unspoken communication, but you had mulled over those questions for the past two weeks. 

Their answers were what scared you the most. It frightened you how ready you were to leave all your memories of Josh in the gutter and start something with one of your best friends. The scary part was how easy it was to want, care for, and miss him. You gave him a slow nod, “I’m not going anywhere you can’t follow.” 

Spencer’s worried gaze softened as the edges of his lips quirked up into a slight smile, leaning closer, “Stuck with you? Forever?” He sucks in air through his teeth dramatically, his eyes flicking around your face cautiously. 

You roll your eyes at his playful tone, “M’tired of talking,” Your lips close the gap before he can say anything back. 

Spencer doesn’t protest as he kisses you back—soft, slow, sensual movements against your lips. Pulling away here and there just to kiss you again, his lips gently pulling your bottom lip whenever he pulls away. You graze your teeth against his bottom lip, careful not to bite him as you cup his face, his large hands holding onto your waist. 

His hands press down on your hips, firmly keeping you in place as he pushes against you slowly. His chest presses against yours, his hands start to pull your hips closer to his. A soft groan can be heard, and you can’t pinpoint who makes the sound as your mind becomes hazy from the way he kisses you. 

You almost don’t register that he’s led you towards your bed. The feeling of your bed hitting the back of your legs makes you register that you walked with him to your bed. You pull away, inching back onto your bed carefully as soft panting fills the dimly lit room, staring up at him from your bed. 

You watch as he kicks off his shoes before crawling onto the bed, looming above you as you slowly slide your body up the bed. He’s pressing a hand near your head as the other brushes a stray hair from your eyes, his lips leaving fleeting kisses across your face, slowly trailing down to your neck. 

His kisses start to get deeper once he passes the area of your jaw, gently sucking on the area just below your ear before letting the sensitive skin go and dragging his lips lower to repeat the act. 

Soft, pleasured sighs escape your lips as he kisses and lightly sucks on the sensitive skin that is your neck. One of your hands reaches for his hair, tangling your fingers in his curls as he sucks on your collarbone. The hand that isn’t supporting his weight on the bed is trailing down your chest slowly, reaching the hem of your shirt as he tentatively slips the tips of his fingers under it carefully. “That okay?” he pulls away from your collarbone to look down at you. 

You let out a sweet ‘mhm’ before you smile up at him. Spencer smiles back as he leans in to kiss your lips again. Your lips part almost immediately so he can slip his skilled tongue into your mouth, and he does just that. 

His tongue carefully traces yours as his hand slowly starts to trail up your stomach, his touch making you shiver as his slightly cold hands inch toward your unsupported breasts, gasping softly against his lips at the feeling of his fingers slowly cupping your right breast. The movement of his tongue against yours slows for a second as his thumb traces around the taut bud of your nipple, gently rubbing and circling patterns until he earns a little whine from you, 

His lips pull away from yours, but he stays close, brushing against yours as he speaks. “Good?” 

You let out a breathless “Very.” before he repeats the pattern, his index finger joining now as he gently pinches the aroused bud. A shaky sigh escapes your lips, your lips trembling lightly against Spencer’s as he watches you, pulling his head back to get a better look. 

His eyes study your face—the way your nose sometimes scrunches up in pleasure, how dilated your pupils are when you look at him, and his favorite, how you gently pull your bottom into your mouth with your teeth in a vain attempt to hold in your quiet moans.

He watches as you give him an embarrassed expression. “You’re staring,” your voice is a sweet whisper, eliciting a shiver that crawls up his spine. 

He looks away with a mutter of an apology, giving you a quick smile. His fingers slip away from your chest to slide down to the hem of your shirt. He looks into your eyes as he fiddles with the fabrics. “Can I see you?” 

A quick nod from you gives him your answer as he quickly pulls your shirt over your head, his eyes quick to trail over your face down to your exposed chest. He watches the way your chest rises and falls with each heavy breath as he slowly moves his head down to place gentle kisses on your collarbone. 

Kissing a trail down to the valley between your breasts, he slowly makes his way over to your left breast, his eyes looking up at you as he gently places his lips around the bud of your nipple. 

Your eyes watch him as he gently flicks his tongue against the sensitive peak before sucking on it lightly. Your mouth falls open as you watch him, breathing heavily as you feel his free hand reaching up to play with your other nipple. 

Quiet, breathy sounds are all Spencer can hear now– a gasp here, a shaky sigh there, and occasionally a closed-mouth moan. He likes watching the way your head falls back as he adds a little more pressure with his tongue, rubbing wet circles around your erect nipples. 

He feels like he’s moving too fast and taking too long simultaneously. He wants to hear you, he wants you to relax under his touch, and he wants to take his time with you. On the other hand, he’s dreamt about this moment more times than he can count. He wants to tell you that it’s even better than what he imagined, but the idea sounds stupid, given he’s only sucking on your nipples right now. He hasn’t even been inside you, and he doesn't want to risk sounding inexperienced right now. 

He decides that pleasing you further speaks louder than words as he slides his hand on your other breast down your chest slowly, creeping toward the waistband of your pajama pants. His fingers trace along the edge of your pants as his lips keep sucking. 

You squirm under him as you move your hands down to start pulling your bottoms off as fast as you can manage, accidentally forcing Spencer’s lips off your chest in the process. He watches you briefly, laughing softly as he helps you out of your pajama pants before tossing them to the side.  

Spencer’s eyes focus on your thighs, his fingers tracing slow paths from your outer right thigh to your inner thigh. He is trying to focus on the sound of your breathing, testing out areas with his fingers to see which one excited you the most based on the hitching of your breath when he touches it. 

“Higher,” Your voice makes him jump a little, a small smile forming on your face as he does so. He swallows and grins, moving his fingers higher now inches from the edge of your underwear. 

“Higher?” He questions playfully, his deep caramel eyes looking into yours as he watches you nod. His fingers glide over to your underwear, pressing against the center, his fingers touching your folds through the fabric. 

You sigh softly as his fingers rub up and down the fabric, pressing in harder with each stroke. “You’re so pretty,” Spencer’s voice sounds strained, earning him a weak smile from you. 

“Just pretty?” You moan quietly as he slips his hand into your underwear suddenly, the feeling making you gasp. 

Spencer’s index and middle fingers do most of the exploring as he stares at you, “No, not just pretty. Gorgeous, beautiful, captivating, astounding.” His fingers find your clit, pressing against the bundle of nerves teasingly slow. 

You’re breathing heavily through your nose now as you move your hips against his fingers to let him know it feels good. “Is,” you relax your shoulders carefully. “Is astounding a look I pull off well?” 

“Very well,” he answers honestly, even though he knows you’re joking. His fingers begin to rub slow, tight circles as he leans in to kiss you again. The kiss swallows up any moans you start to let out as Spencer’s fingers make electric arousal build up in your lower abdomen, your legs feeling weak as you spread them further. 

Spencer hums against your lips as he quickly deepens the kiss, his hips absentmindedly grinding against your thigh as his fingers move away from your clit to yank your underwear down. You help him, kicking them away with your eyes closed, your tongue dragging along Spencer’s. 

His middle finger teasingly drags your wetness down to your entrance, pressing against the area quickly before hesitating. He pulls away slightly from your lips, but you’re already answering his question before he can ask it. “Yes,” You whisper against his lips, moving your hips down against his finger. 

He lets out a breathy laugh as he slowly pushes his index finger into you, his own eyes almost rolling back into his head as he hears the shaky moan you let out. He’s quick to chase that high as his fingers curl inside of you, searching for that spot that will make you let out more sounds for him to enjoy. 

Your brows furrow as your eyes flutter closed, chasing the needy feeling inside of you that is too desperate to wait for him to find your g-spot on his own. Your hips grind down, guiding him slightly until his fingers curl against the slightly rough patch of nerves inside you. A sharp gasp, followed by a breathy chuckle, leaves your lips as you open your eyes to look at Spencer. “Right there,” 

He’s always been so good at following instructions, so he knows not to change much regarding his fingers, curling and dragging against that sweet spot inside of you slowly. His lips kiss your collarbone softly, kissing up to your ear. “Wanna hear you,”

How could you deny such a sweet voice? Especially when that sweet voice belongs to the man you’ve been pining over for weeks. It also helps when he has his fingers inside of you. Your lips parted as you let out a soft groan, followed by a shaky gasp of air.

Spencer’s finger picks up the pace gradually, going faster and rougher with every sound from your lips. A cry of pleasure? Faster. A loud moan? Rougher. You wondered what sound you needed to make for him to add a second finger. 

It wasn’t a sound so much as simply having to tell him, “Add another finger,” You breathe out between moans, and Spencer is quick to push his index finger into the waves of pleasure he’s causing throughout your body. 

It’s not long before your hips are raising slightly, loud whines and groans escaping your lips as he brings you closer to your release with every curl and drag of his fingers. You could feel Spencer’s breath hot against the shell of your ear now as your eyebrows furrowed tightly, focusing on every feeling he gave you. 

He’s relentless, listening to how your breathing hitches and moans increase with specific tempos, learning the kind of pressure you like simply based on sound. Has a man ever done that before? You weren’t sure; all you knew was that you were getting closer to an orgasm. You wanted to be hopeful and think it would be the first of many.

Short gasps were escaping your lips as your head tilted back into the mattress, “That’s it.” Spencer’s lips are on your exposed neck now, gently sucking, kissing sweetly against your pulse point as you inch closer to your climax. “Sound so good.” His voice is a little muffled, not to mention hard to hear over the sounds of your moans, but it’s making your hips stutter as they grind against his fingers. 

Then you’re crashing hard. Your body tenses, shaking under him, you cry out as your orgasm rips through you. Small whimpers and moans are spilling from your lips as your hands fly up to his shoulders, gripping them until your knuckles turn white.

A groan leaves his lips as he watches you. It's a sight he wants to commit to memory. He wants to close his eyes and draw it if he can, memorize every shudder, every stutter of your hips, the way your eyes open to look at him afterward– pupils’ dilated and shimmering under a haze of lust. 

You whine a little when he pulls his fingers out of you, and Spencer wonders how he has so much self-control. He’s about to ask you how you’re feeling, to check in on you, but then you're grabbing his wrist.

You’re dragging his hand to your lips terribly slow, and Spencer feels his breathing stop for a second as he watches you drag his index and middle fingers into your mouth to suck yourself off them. His next breath comes out as a stuttering mess, watching as your tongue slides between his fingers, your eyes staring into his before fluttering closed. 

It’s his turn to whine when you’re done sucking his fingers clean. He was already painfully hard while he was fingering you, but now he feels like he might burst into flames if he cannot have you. “Please,” He whispers, his hips grinding against your outer thigh timidly. 

A part of you almost feels bad for him; he feels so hard against your outer thigh, and he still has all his clothes on. He has to be desperate– the thought makes your mouth water. 

Your hands are quick to help him out of his pants, undoing his button and zipper. As he pulls the pants down his legs, you’re sliding your hands under his shirt. You hum with soft desire as you feel the curves and dips of muscles on his surprisingly toned chest. He shivers at the feeling of your fingers dragging along his chest, inching closer to the waistband of his boxers. 

Your fingers stop before reaching his boxers, slipping out from under his shirt, and going for his tie. A tie already loose and halfway forgotten. You slip your fingers around the maroon tie, pulling it off quickly and with no complaint from Spencer as you do so. Your eyes trail up to meet his, looking up at him through your lashes. 

Spencer could feel your fingers thumbing at the buttons on his shirt, but he couldn’t pull his gaze away from your eyes. He’s so captivated by your eyes on his that he completely misses what you say. “What?” His voice comes out breathy as you undo the second button on his shirt. 

You let out a soft chuckle, looking away from his eyes to peak at his partially exposed chest. “I asked if it would be okay to leave some hickeys on your chest,” 

Spencer’s breathing hitches in his throat as he lets out a bashful “Yes.” He can hear another laugh leave your lips as his eyes trail down to your fingers working on the last button on his shirt, how they hook around the edge and pull the material away to expose his chest fully. He’s enraptured, caught in a trance as he watches you lean your head down to his chest, soft kisses sending electric shivers down his spine. 

You kiss down his sternum, trailing off to the left of his chest and sucking lightly. A breath is ripped away from him at the feeling, and he suddenly feels the overwhelming urge to whine. He fights the urge as he sighs again, your lips slowly sucking and kissing down his chest, leaving some light and dark purple spots in your wake. 

It’s hard to pull his eyes away from your work. Each time you leave a mark on his lower chest, Spencer’s eyes linger on it before they follow you to your next location. He feels sensitive all over, his body humming–tingling–with desire. He wonders if you’d think he’s pathetic if he begs for something more. 

But you catch on before he embarrasses himself.

You sit up straight as your hands rest on his lower stomach, looking down at his crotch before looking up into his eyes curiously. “May I?” You ask with a half-hearted chuckle like it’s funny. 

He knows you aren’t laughing at him; you’re laughing because you already know his answer. A soft whine is pulled from his throat as he says, “Yes,” 

Your eyes leave his, trailing down his body slowly as your fingers hook into the waistband of his boxers and start to pull them down. Spencer’s eyebrows knit together at the feeling, the material dragging against his hard cock slowly. 

As he kicks his boxers away, he is pleasantly surprised when you straddle his lap. Your hips hover inches from his as you lean down towards him slowly, your hands pressing against his chest for stability. Your hair falls in your face as you whisper a slow, seductive, “Does this work for you?” 

Spencer can feel his heart stutter lightly against his chest as he nods like a madman, cheeks flushed as he stammers out a little, “Ab-absolutely, anything you want, we don’t– I mean– we can do anything you want, I won’t mind.” 

His nervous rambling is cut off with a hiss of pleasure as he feels you wrap your hand around his cock, guiding it to your entrance carefully. The slow drag of his head against your folds has him letting out a stuttering sigh, his hands instinctively moving to your hips. His eyes shut tight as you sink down on him, a soft sigh falling from your lips as you slowly take every inch. He feels the urge to beg again. 

You’re watching him from his lap, a little smile gracing your face as you watch the way his mouth falls open as you adjust your knees slightly to fully sit down on his cock. A slight muffled whine can be heard from Spencer as his eyes slowly open to take in the sight of you bare and preparing to ride him– it makes him feel dizzy. 

It's your turn for your lips to part, a shaky sound of pleasure leaving your lips as you start to move your hips up slowly. He’s so hard inside of you that you’re sure you can feel his cock twitching inside of you as you slowly move up and down. 

You can feel the way his slender fingers start to grip your hips tighter, gently digging into your skin at the tortuous pace you’re beginning to set. It’s building, that’s for sure. You’re panting lightly as soft moans fill the room. 

You let out a soft yelp, feeling Spencer’s hips chase yours when you slow down slightly, looking down at him with a surprised expression. He sends you an apologetic look and whispers, “I’m sorry, I just need– I’m sorry.” His voice sounds strained like you’re putting him through the worst torture imaginable. 

You huff out a chuckle, shaking your head a little as you brace yourself on your knees a little more, “Greedy boy,” you tease him lightly as you press down harder on his chest with your palms, giving him a taste of the pace he so desperately craved. 

Spencer lets out a shaky laugh that dies away into a groan as your hips move at a slightly faster pace, his hands beginning to guide you down onto his cock. He’s trying to be respectful of the pace you’re setting every time– honest! This feels too much like a fantasy, like a wet dream he’s sure he’s had many times before, one that has every instinct in his bones telling him to go as hard and fast as possible. 

It's an incredibly tempting stupid instinct. He knows that the faster you ride him, the faster this moment is over, but it feels so good. The drag of his painfully hard cock against your walls– add to that the lewd sounds that keep escaping your lips whenever you give him an experimental roll of your hips. He’s panting when he feels you picking up the pace again, his fingers flexing against your hips. It’s still not enough. He’s not sure he’ll ever have enough of you. 

You’re breathing heavily as you flick your head to the side to get a better look at him. He’s starting to sweat a little as his eyes trail down your body. Whenever his eyes catch a slight of his cock disappearing inside of you, he licks his lips, dragging his bottom lip into his lip for a second as his eyes move back up to your face. 

You give him a quick, breathless smile as you whisper a saccharine, “You like that?” You begin, dragging your hips forward slightly on your way down his length. “ You like watching your cock disappear inside me?” 

Spencer’s eyes widen for a second as he gives you a quick nod, “Yes-” He lets out a whine, his hips chasing yours again as you slow down quickly, teasingly dragging your hips against his, driving him crazy. 

As you experimentally roll your hips, you can feel his head brushing against your g-spot, and you’re quick to ignore his pleasure to chase your own. You aim for the feeling again, your hands leaving his chest as you move them back to his knees, causing you to lean back slightly. 

The sight is intimate and extremely erotic as Spencer watches the way you grind your hips against his cock, gasping out harshly whenever it hits the rough patch of nerves inside of you. He elevates his hips slightly for you, his mouth falling open as he looks at you, completely starstruck. 

You give him another flash of a smile as you move faster down on him, friction wise it doesn’t feel as good as when you were riding him, but just seeing the way you’re getting yourself off on his cock has him feeling like he’s about to burst. 

He wants you to cum around his cock more than so desperately that he gives up on caring about embarrassing himself, stammering out dirty talk as fast as he can, “You look so good, so fucking good.” He gasps out, watching as your eyes close. 

The sound of his voice helps you chase that high as wanton moans accompany your movements, leaving him feeling encouraged. “Wish I could record you like this. I need to remember how you look right now. Would you let me?” He stammers out between his shaky moans. 

Your head is nodding before you can genuinely process what he’s saying. Your fingers digging into his skin lightly, “Feels so good, Spencer.” 

He’s sure that’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard as he lets out a shaky, “Ye-Yeah? Do you want me to rub your clit? You want me to make you cum right now?” 

He’s asking for direction, but it doubles as dirty talk for you as your eyes open and meet his. You’re sure you’re saying the words ‘yes’ repeatedly, but you don’t actually hear the sound coming from your lips. The only thing you can focus on now is the way one of Spencer’s hands is sliding from your hip to your clit. His thumb dragging fast, tight circles on your clit. 

Spencer watches as your eyebrows crinkle together and gasps of air leave your lips. He feels your walls flutter around him. He’s careful to raise his hips to push deeper into you as you reach your second orgasm of the night with his cock deep inside you. 

Your walls squeeze around him so tight that he feels weak in the knees as you let out a high-pitched cry of pleasure, your body shaking on top of him. He’s happy to keep moving his thumb against your clit, helping you ride out your orgasm to your heart's content. 

Eventually, the shaking on your thighs calms, and you’re hissing out with overstimulation, whispering gently, “Wait, wait, wait.” You relax briefly, your hips still stuck against Spencer’s as he stops moving his thumb. Your eyes meet his, and your heart squeezes at the look he’s giving you. Something that was a mix of complete adoration and desire. 

His eyes flicker over your face nervously as he licks his lips slowly, his eyes still occasionally dipping down to your hips flush against his. You tilt your head slightly as you watch him, a small smile on your face as you lean forward, your chest pressing against his gently as you give him a soft kiss. 

It’s a short kiss, but Spencer still ends up following your lips by the end of it. “Should we switch positions?” Your voice is curiously sweet, and Spencer immediately nods at the idea. 

You lift your hips off of him and slide off his lap slowly, your legs only feeling a slight sting from riding him. You lay on the bed and watch as Spencer moves to hover over you. His eyes stare directly at your dripping cunt, and he looks like he’s lost in thought, something that earns a soft laugh from you as you shake your head at him a little. “Something on your mind?” 

It was a good-natured tease, but he answers honestly nonetheless, “Can’t decide if I want to eat you out or go back to fucking you.”  His eyes leave the dripping wet area between your legs to look into your eyes. 

It almost sounds strange coming from his mouth, you could probably count on your fingers the number of times he’s cursed in front of you. Nor did you expect something so… erotic. Then again, he did say some rather dirty things just moments prior. It didn’t phase you then because you had other things on your mind, i.e., cumming on his cock. 

You gave him a playful smile, his eyebrows raising slightly with interest, “Spencer Reid, are you… sexy?” 

He chuckles as he moves his body closer, slotting his body between your spread legs, “You tell me.” 

You laugh a little at that, and your eyes take him in—how he looks with his hands on your knees, gently pushing them to get you to spread them wider. With a wide grin, you whisper, “You are.” 

One of his hands is pressing into the bed to the left of you as he hovers over you, his other moving to your face to brush a stray hair out of your face gently. You can tell he’s trying not to feel embarrassed at the compliment as you gently move a hand up to his hair– fingers raking through his curls. “I vote you go back to fucking me.” 

Your words cause a slight shiver to roll down his spine as he lets out a soft “Mhm,” his hand leaving your face to guide his cock back inside of you slowly. He lets out a soft sigh as he presses into you, his gaze scanning your face for any sign of pain. 

He sees none as he watches your head tilt back onto the bed slightly, eyes closing for a second. The pace he starts is timid and gentle. He knows a slow build to a fast pace is better, wiser, and he’ll last longer. But it’s getting hard to remember with the way you feel around him, how deliciously you squeeze around him whenever he thrusts into you a little deeper than the time before. 

“Move your hips faster,” You mutter softly as your hips grind on his cock slowly, the slow pace making you feel embarrassingly impatient. 

He doesn’t mind, of course. He’s all too happy to start moving his hips faster. Soft moans fall from his lips as he picks up the pace, his hands moving from bracing himself up on the bed to the area behind your knees, gently lifting your legs up and apart, leaving them slightly bent in his hands. 

It happens so fast that you stare at him in awe for a split second as he readjusts himself to drive his hips into you again, and with the way he has you now, you can feel him thrusting deeper inside. You whine loudly at the feeling and nod quickly, a wordless attempt to let him know how good it feels. 

He shows you a half smile as he takes that as a sign to go deeper, grunts falling in time with his pace– seemingly becoming slightly ruthless. Your mouth fell open at the feeling of his cock reaching deeper inside you, quivers of pleasure racing through your body, your legs, everywhere. You’re sure you’re being too loud now, your cunt starting to squelch with every drag of his hips. 

Spencer feels like he’s in heaven, listening to your body respond to his, feeling your legs tremble under his touch, and watching how your eyebrows knit together when he picks up the pace slightly. He’s sure there is nobody, dead or alive, that makes him feel the way you’re making him feel right now. 

It’s exhilarating, intoxicating, and it’s making his orgasm get closer. Panting heavily, he moves your legs to wrap around his waist as he braces himself on the bed again, and he starts to roll his hips into you quickly. He lets out a breathless laugh when you yell a little, “Oh!” Pride fills his senses, knowing how good he can make you feel. 

“I’m getting close,” He rasps out with another sharp, fast roll of his hips. 

You nod quickly as you mouth a silent ‘yes’ to his warning. You’re not sure you can speak in coherent sentences with the way his cock keeps brushing against that spot inside you that has you gushing around him effortlessly. 

“Do you want me to pull out?” he stubbles out sweetly between his moans. 

You shake your head at that, “No!” You cry out, eyes locking on his as you moan out, “Inside.” 

He looks at you for a second, his hips slowing to a frustrating stop, “Are you sure, because missionary-” He heaves out a soft sigh, looking at the way you’re lust-filled eyes stare up at him, “Are you sure?” 

A gentle smile appears on your face, and Spencer feels like he’s staring at an angel. The feeling grows as you move your hands to pull his face to yours, brushing a light kiss on his lips with the soft, reassuring answer he needs to hear, “I’m sure,” 

Spencer grins against your lips, kissing you deeper as he starts to thrust his hips into you again. Your eyes roll back slightly at the rough feeling of his lips on yours and his hips snapping into you over and over again. 

Muffled moans came from both of you as you gently slipped your tongue into the kiss, eliciting a growl from the man thrusting into you. He pulls away to press his forehead against yours. Physical intimacy for Spencer always fell second to emotional. Now, feeling how your hands hold his shoulders and hearing you whisper strings of soft praise to him, he realizes that combined, they turn into the most ethereal experience he’s ever felt. 

Guttural-sounding moans are escaping his throat as he chases his climax like a madman, “You feel so good, so good.” Is all he can manage to gasp out between moans as your nails dig into his shoulders. 

You mewl under him as he gasps out a short, “I’m- god, fuck, I’m cu-” his erratic hips stutters against yours, thrusting as deep as he can into you as he reaches his climax. His breathing stutters as he lazily drags his hips in and out with his orgasm, doing his best to make it last longer for the both of you. With a final sharp thrust, he empties into you. 

Sometime after, he’s slowly pulling out and disappearing into your bathroom to get something to clean you up. You laugh as he insists on cleaning you up himself, his hands gentle as he drags the towel against your cum soaked folds. 

Once you fall asleep, Spencer finds him playing with the ends of your hair, watching how your chest rises with each deep breath. He smiles into the dark as he leans into your ear, not caring if you hear it in your sleep, “I’m going to marry you the first chance I get.” 

Day One Thousand Thirty-Three

“Spencer,” Your voice carries across the BAU bullpen, an unmistakable smile of amusement on your face as you approach his desk. “Spencer Reid,” 

After two years of being with him, he’s not sure he’s ever gotten sick of that smile. Dazzling, patient, sweet, and almost always constant when you’re around him– a permanent fixture on your face now that you live with him.  

“You are late, Doctor Reid. Hop to it!” You tap against his desk playfully. You’re already dressed for dinner tonight at Rossi’s– or that’s what you think it is anyway– and you look stunning. Even under the harsh lights of the bullpen, you look glowing, so gorgeous that Spencer feels like spoiling the surprise right now. 

“It’s barely past five. We’re fine.” 

“He’s gone already,” You move your hand dramatically towards Rossi’s empty office… most of the bullpen is empty now that you think about it. Why was your boyfriend the only one staying fifteen minutes after five? To be fair, he was waiting for you, and you were the one running late, so you feel a little guilty as you watch Spencer pack up his things. 

He looked especially good this morning, wearing one of his light brown suit combos that always had you messing up his tie before he left for work that day. You hum softly as you and Spencer walk side-by-side toward the elevators. “Do you know why Rossi said to dress up a little this time? Last time, everyone seemed pretty casual.” 

Spencer offers you a little tight-lip smile with a slight shake of his head, “No, he does have a flare for the dramatic sometimes.” He’s praying to whatever deity listening that you don’t catch on to the lie. 

You scoffed out a soft laugh, looking at him with a raised brow, “And you don’t?” 

“I’d like to think I’m more grounded in facts and reason than dramatics,” He defends himself with a laugh, hitting the button for the first floor. “Living with you has made me more dramatic. If anything, I’m mirroring you when I,” he does air quotations with his finger as he finishes, “Am being dramatic.”  

“You are so lucky you’re a federal agent,” 

“I am pretty hard to kill.” He says with a serious-looking nod, but the smile growing on his face as you walk through the parking lot to your car is telling. 

Your smile falls slightly as you nudge his shoulder softly. “Don’t remind me,” you tease him in a melancholy tone. More than two years ago, if someone had asked you if you’d be sad if Josh died tragically, you would have simply said yes. Now, with Spencer, if someone asked you that same question, you know you would start crying on the spot at the idea of the man next to you dying. 

It’s funny how people can affect other people. Through all his challenges, Spencer Reid was incredibly patient, kind, and devoted to his loved ones—including you. He was the air you breathed, and you were his. Every look he gave you, every smile he showed, and every touch confirmed it– you were going to grow old with him, one way or another. 

Spencer headed into Rossi’s villa first, and you grabbed some wine and the charcuterie board, something that the host himself requested. You were happy to help, considering he was cooking for everyone, but the lack of direction with the wine threw you slightly. Rossi loved food, loved hosting these team meals, and was… to put it bluntly, a control freak. 

You picked up a label you vaguely remembered him talking about once as you headed in after Spencer. The house looks… dark? You open the door, peeking your head in slightly. “Spencer?” A dark front room greets you. Your eyes quickly adjust as you close the front door behind you. 

You hear something moving from the kitchen, the hairs on your neck standing up as you tip-toe towards it. “Rossi?” you call out in a whisper. It definitely smells like food—chicken piccata. 

More darkness, you blink and mouth a silent “What the fuck?” Then, you catch a glimpse of some light from outside. You quietly set the board and wine on the granite countertop and head for the back door. 

From what you can see, the lanterns are on in the backyard, but more twinkling lights have been added along some trees. If you weren’t so terrified, you’re sure you would find it beautiful. But considering the team’s line of work, you were always afraid of something like this– well, whatever this was anyway. All you knew was that you no longer trusted dark houses at night. 

You made sure not to turn your back to the outside, carefully looking around and closing the door behind you. Now you knew they were out here. You could hear shushing. 

Then there he was, a big smile on his face, and everything clicked. Oh.

Oh.

“Spencer Reid, this better not be what I think it is.” 

He’s standing in the center of the backyard on a patch of patio tile, candles and flowers leading up to him. He laughs a little as you approach him. He can see tears forming in your eyes, and he hasn’t even started with the proposal. “I’m afraid it is,” he mutters as his hand slips into his coat pocket, pulling out a small, red velvet box. 

He bends down on one knee, staring up at you as you smile through tears, “I’ve had the pleasure of being with you for seven hundred and seventy-four days, but if someone asked me how many days I’ve been in love with you, I would have to tell them that I have been in love with you for one thousand thirty-three days.” His fingers are shaking as he opens the ring box, his eyes scanning your face carefully to see your reaction to the ring. 

Garcia and you often scrolled through Pinterest board together, an app that Spencer didn’t quite understand. Which explains why he asked Garcia to go with him to get the ring, because she didn’t want him to quote ‘mess it up, Aidan from Sex and the City style’ —whatever that meant. 

He was so calm when he bought it, but on the way home, he recalls looking over at Penelope in the car and asking, ‘What if she doesn’t like this one?’ in a terrified tone. 

Seeing your face now– the way your eyes light up as you wipe away falling tears and how you’re laughing through them, he knows he’s made the right choice. “I want to love you for twenty thousand more.  I want to love you through every wrinkle, every laugh, every bad day, indefinitely. I want to love you when our hair turns grey. I want you to be the rest of my life, and, at the end of it, I know I’ll see you flash before my eyes.” 

He’s watching the way you hike up your dress to your shins and get on both knees, cupping his face gently as you sniffle through happy tears. His eyes soften slightly as he becomes level with you, moving to sit on his knees. “My question is, will you let me? Will you marry me?” 

You let out a scoff, nodding quickly. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, in a thousand different languages, yes!” You laugh out sweetly as you kiss him. He smiles into the kiss, his arms wrapping around your middle tightly. 

The two of you only pull away when the sound of confetti starts popping on either side of you. You laugh as you watch Penelope step out from her hiding place with half the team following behind her. Moving your head to the other side, you can see Rossi clapping softly with the other half. 

You try to dry your eyes again as small strands of confetti reach your head, Spencer’s arms slipping away from you to carefully slip the ring on your left hand. He then looks over at Penelope, “You didn’t say anything about confetti poppers.” He says in a playfully stern voice, standing up slowly before extending a hand to you. 

She simply shrugs and squeals, “She said yes!” 

Then they’re all on you like a pack of wolves, hugging, kissing cheeks, laughing as you gather your composure. After a few moments of congratulations, all you can think to say is, “I almost had a heart attack.”  

The night begins and ends with laughter. On the drive home with Spencer, you can’t help but think that there are twenty thousand more nights to come and how none of them will ever measure up to this one. It’s one of those nights that linger in the air after everyone’s already said goodbye, and it’s perfect.

[plutokoo]

Maybe a bit weird but yandere big bad wolf jk and small sheep oc/yn?

pairing : yandere wolf jk x fem sheep hybrid reader

genre : smut, yandere

A/N : a quick smutty drabble rn because I'm writing a one shot for it and it's halfway done. I just need to do a quick dump bcs the one shot is kinda long and it's making me hit writers block 😭😭😭😭. this might not be the best tbh but I promise the one shot will be way better.

yandere wolf jk who's a perfectionist at uni never missing a class, always has a 4.0 GPA and never failed to made it in to the deans list.

and then one day he saw you, barging in to the class late mumbling sorry and sitting right in front of him,your scent covering his nose almost instantly,his ears tensing up as he grumble mate slightly under his breath.

he reached for you after class finished, hands grabbing your arm tightly, he leaned his face in, a wolfish grinned adorning his face as he greeted you

you who was timid,fearful and easily panicked,breathed out your name gently hands shaking from the sudden interaction. you can't help it of course it's in your nature to act that way :(

before he could ask you about how he's never seen you in the class before, you snatched your arms from him, legs stuttering to get out of the room as fast as you can, his scent was overwhelming, making your thoughts go hazy from fear.

jungkook frowned as your figure scrambled out, hands forming a fist as he make a silently vow to himself to get you again.

he met you again next on the campus hallway, hands barely holding on to the thick text books you carried as you sauntered around,trying to get into the professor office before bumping against some jock, your knees crashing on the hard tiles as the books fell from your grasp, gasp leaving your lips from the pain. the hallway turned silent, people watching you trying to gather books, you wanted to wailed from the attention you're receiving, your knees ached from the impact,blood oozing out from the cuts it received

jungkook immediately rushed up to you, shooing people away as he kneeled down, his hands quickly collect the books as he helped you stand up. he cooed at the fat tears that was sliding down your face, "its okay baby you're okay they're gone know" he fussed wiping your tears away

you sobbed,wiping your face at the sleeve of your sweater, the nickname he gave you went unnoticed as he continued to caressed your face.

"let me help you bring these and then we'll go to the infirmary to take care of your knees, okay?" he offered not giving you time to answer before he grabbed your hands,his other hand holding the books easily as he sauntered to the office

after that it was easy for jungkook to make you his,everyday he would take you out for coffee,sit beside you in class, and helped doing your assignments. he'd pamper you endlessly, slowly convincing you to sleep at his place instead because it was too dangerous for you to sleep alone and you who was dumb,naive and gullible believed everything he said.

he'd make you move to his apartment too, because it's such a hassle for his baby to be going back and forth at all and he doesn't like the thought of you being all alone so please move in with me baby, I don't like being apart from you :((((

jungkook Hates when you start talking or making friends with other people because you're his and only his to have, it's not hard to make you stop talking to these people of course, your timid nature making it easy for him to remove people from your life.

he'd tell you everyday, gaslighting you into thinking about how your friends view you as an easy target and how you will always be a Second choice to them, how you would easily get stampede if you keep hanging around with people other than him.

you'd believed everything he said, the thought of leaving the home you thought as a safe place become more and more distasteful making you switch all your classes to online instead, which ofcourse was jungkooks Idea.

jungkook loves to fuck you, he loves rubbing your wet pussy through your panties while you're sleeping, hips unconsciously humped against his hands as moans left your lips,his hands would move the panties sideways, thumbs slowly rubbing your clit, drawing 8 figures on it making you reach your qlimax, soft pants leaving your lips.

he'd fuck you on top of the kitchen counter, your front leaning on it, clit grazing against the counters corner everytime he thrust forward. cold marble pressing against your chest as jungkook pulled your hair back, his hand reaching down to pinch your nipple making you squeeze more around his cock

"aah...aah ple..please" you mewl hands rubbing your clit, desperate to reach your orgasm. jungkook grunts, his hands smacked you ass,groaning as he watched it jiggle "please what slut", he rasped hips bucking faster as he leaned down, lips sucking your necks making your eyes rolled back from the pleasure

"uh...ugh...cum please" you cried out, jungkook reached down hands smacking your pussy as he yanked your hair back "fuck..baby..cum" he choked, you wailed as you squirt against him,body trembling, eyes rolling back as your pussy pulsate againts his cock. "fuck fuck fuck" jungkook sobbed out as he reached his climax, filling your hole with so much cream it drips out.

he pulled out,wincing slightly before plugging his hand up your hole, preventing his cum from dripping down your hole "can't let this go to waste hm".

jungkook loves it when you got your heat he'd fuck you on every surface in the house. he'd fuck you on the couch when the movie's still playing,on the bathtub while letting the shower jet hits your clit , on the floor where he'd fuck you so hard you could barely from a sentence.

jungkook loves you so much he'd kill for you. he would easily get rid of anyone that he thinks might be a threat to your relationship.

he'd do anything for you as long as you don't leave his side,so don't even try to think about doing it it okay?.

[darkst4lker]

taste. // thranduil

thranduil oropherion x fem!reader

plot: two weeks and a half ago, thranduil and (y/n) had a messy break up. now, he appears at your friend arwen's birthday party with his ex girlfriend by his side and you decide that if he wants to play that game, you would play it too.

tw: (mdni) modern!au, it's mainly lovers to enemies to lovers but there will be mentions of smut, angst, thranduil behaves like an asshole, misogyny, use of drugs and and alcohol, good ending (?, i changed a lot of things from the lore!!, everyone is like 20-27 here but legolas wasn't even born yet here. YES there's a moment where starts playing lover you should've come over by jeff buckley!!. low caps on purpose.

notes: english is NOT my first language. i'm sorry if there's any mistake. also this is the first time i publish something i write here!!

“(y/n)” tauriel spoke. you and her were helping arwen to decorate her house for her birthday party that same night, yet you were visibly sad for your break up with thranduil. “(y/n), are you okay?”

you weren't okay.

it was the middle of winter. arwen's living room was one of the most comfortables and warm places on earth, in fact all of her house was like that. it was one of the places where you felt more safe than anywhere in the world but today her house felt deadly cold to you.

maybe the problem wasn't arwen's home itself but the fact that your soul was freezing since the day thranduil's deadly words stabbed your heart like a poisoned knife.

“i don't love you anymore, (y/n).”

fucker. you had spent two years together.

in fact, you and thranduil never fought, never argued, never insulted each other while you were together. yet, the day he left you like that, completely out of the blue, you insulted him so much he probably thought that all his family line would be cursed forever.

he said horrible things too, it wasn't just you. but you may had gone too far when you threw an antique vase that belonged to his family for years through the window of his apartment.

in your defense, he was the last person you thought that would leave you.

of course arwen's house felt cold, the whole world felt cold actually. how could anything feel good in this earth when you weren't in thranduil's arms?

you took a deep breath.

it took you a moment to answer to tauriel's question because the vestiges of the last discussion you had with thranduil were fresh in your mind like if it had happened a second ago. you tried to dismiss the storm of memories flooding your mind and you looked at tauriel.

“yeah, im sorry i went blank for a minute.” you answered while hanging up some balloons in the wall. you tried to fake a smile but your tired eyes revealed your sorrows.

“that's it. im tired of seeing her like this, im going to kill him” aragorn said, leaving his spot next to arwen in the kitchen where they were preparing all the food for the party to get his coat, but arwen stopped him right away.

“stop, you're not helping her. we need to stay here by her side.” arwen came out of the kitchen, after aragorn. her calm voice sent chills down your spine.

aragorn crossed his arms and left his coat alone while he sat in a chair facing you.

you sat on the sofa and arwen sat besides you. the decorations were ready and now you didn't had anything else to distract you from the heartbreak im your chest.

“everything is going to be okay, sweetie. i'm sorry you'll have to see him tonight, bard insisted a lot for me to invite him.” arwen words comforted you and then she hugged you softly. aragorn looked annoyed while he leant against the wall and tauriel stood beside him. “sooner or later he will realize what he's missing.”

“better be sooner because i can't believe he hurted (y/n) like this when a month ago he was talking about fucking marrying her.” aragorn said clearly angry. “i know he's my friend and all but... i can't believe that he really did that.”

“well love can be like that sometimes, i guess.” you answered, trying to keep yourself together. “it comes and it goes.”

“yeah right, but is never just like that (y/n).” tauriel voice was calm but she did seem irritated. “i don't understand why on earth he would do that. it doesn't even makes sense.”

“it doesn't matter if it makes sense or not, guys.” you were clearly about to cry but you held it. “what is done is done and we can't go back in time, and neither can thranduil. i will survive this shit.” everyone tried to smile at you while you spoke but you didn't sounded as convinced as you wanted.

yet, you were true. you couldn't go back in time and in fact, the hours passed swiftly and now the night welcomed the birthday party everyone was waiting for.

you got showered and prepared directly in arwen's home. you had brought your outfit and now your body was inside a stunning and tight scarlet dress.

the black heels that you were in made your outfit more mysterious and in your neck there was a lovely silver necklace with a ruby pendant that arwen had let you borrow for the night.

with a little bit of perfume and red lipstick on, you left arwen's room and joined tauriel's side on the party. there wasn't much people yet, a couple university friends from years ago, the boy tauriel always spoke about: kili and his brother fili, gimli, aragorn of course and like five more people.

it wasn't full yet but arwen's home was quite big so the amount of people wasn't going to be a problem.

thranduil by the other hand, he surely was going to be one.

tauriel and you talked for a while, spending time together before she went to dance with her almost-boyfriend, kili.

you really liked kili for your friend, he seemed like a sweet guy. you really hoped they would end up being together and you wished in the deepest places of your heart that he didn't ended up breaking your friend heart.

like certain person did to you.

you drank a little from the bottle of wine aragorn gave you before rushing to dance with arwen and more people started to appear.

the fear of seeing thranduil that night was disappearing by every sip you gave to the wine and soon you even thought that maybe he wasn't even going to come.

a couple hours later, the house was full of people everywhere, it was 11pm, the party had just started hours ago and when you thought you were free from certain blonde, you saw probably the worst thing you could see with alcohol in your system.

thranduil entered the party with a beautiful blonde girl by his side. they both had their hands enterwined and the girl was giggling while they talked. you instantly felt a rush of rage invade your whole body to the point you believed that your brain was on the verge of exploding.

thranduil had a formal black shirt, leaving two buttons unbottoned and revealing his neck, a little sigh escaped from your lips at the heavenlt sight.

and there it was her.

she looked like a goddes pulled out from a fairytale, making your insecurities corrode your guts like a sickness. the tears threatened to fall off your eyes as you watched their entrance from the another side of the room, and the worst was that you recognized her from old pictures thranduil had in his house. that was his ex girlfriend, now actual (you supposed).

when you thought the horror was over, thranduil looked at you from the distance like if he had some kind of radar attached to him that warned him about everytime you looked at his direction.

his ocean blue eyes met yours. it felt like a boat crashing in the middle of a sea infested with mermaids.

his stare was as intoxicating and addictive as always were. the feelings accumulated in your throat like stones and you got scared for a moment before breaking eye contact with him. it lasted just a second, but it felt like a lifetime passed while your eyes met his.

then you quickly took a sip of your bottle of wine, trying to not give him the pleasure of seeing you rush to the bathroom to cry. for what it felt like hours, you had to see him dance with his new girl and you imagined that you were the one dancing with him, kissing him, touching him.

it was unbelieveable. he literally had replaced you.

how could he? why would he?

those questions pierced your heart like swords, like his words did days ago.

“it was just a pause, a distraction. i needed someone to heal what my past relatonship had broken in me and i already did. you served me well and i will always be grateful.”

you 'served him well'? really? what the fuck does he thinks he is? a king?

his words had melted in your ears like a rotten peach. the sweetness of his low voice mixed with a hint of gall flooding every sentence he said.

you understood now what he meant when he said he healed.

by the other hand, thranduil was breathing heavily.

his hands were on his new girlfriend's waist and sometimes he planted soft kisses on her face. yet, he couldn't fully enjoy anything of it. thranduil regretted all his actions, and much more, how he couldn't save your relationship.

he felt like an idiot. all of his thoughts were on you, every kiss he gave her, every look, every loving gesture, he desired it all went to you instead.

thranduil was deeply conflicted, though. even if he knew how wrong he were when you two broke up, he also was quite offended with the things you said.

it felt like a torture, probably the most horrible one on earth and the weight of his actions were killing him more slowly that he would ever wanted to.

thranduil didn't told you his real motives for leaving you, he thought it would only make it worse for both of you. but after leaving, all of his actions felt meaningless now that he didn't had you.

he was proud, and stubborn though. and watching how you left your seat in wich you were obviously staring at him to sit next to bard made his heart ache terribly.

in your mind, bard seemed like an obvious solution: he was hot, he was your friend and long before you started going out with thranduil he and you had spent a couple of nights together. bard obviously recieved your presence with open arms.

"(y/n), sweetheart." bard calm voice welcomed you as you approached the couch where he was drinking a beer. you noticed he had a blunt on the other hand. "you look beautiful as always."

"hi, bard. long time no-see" you took the seat next to him, everyone were dancing and the fact that he was also a very close friend of thranduil made the whole idea of making out with him so much better.

there was a brief moment of silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. the music was peaceful now, tempting every couple to slow dance.

"do yo want some?" he offered you the pot, and you took it while nodding.

as you smoke, bard looks at you with his classic lovely and reassuring smile, only this time he seemed quite drunk and clearly high.

you were a little drunk yourself too.

"i think i needed that, thank you." you give him back the blunt, and he leaves it in the ashtray. after, he looks at you with curiousity.

"are you-" he started to say but you interrupt him.

"yes i am in fact okay, thank you for asking though." the question had you completely exhausted. you rolled your eyes and stared at him right at his, starting to feel the mix of pot and the alcohol making you a little dizzy. "i came to see if we could make out for a while, i don't care if it's your fault he is here, i don't care about him, i don't care about anything. please, help me forget everything for a second like in the old times. please." your voice sounded a little desperate but the truth it was that you were.

the pain in your heart was begging and pleading to be released, to be cured even if it was for a brief moment. it felt like a bomb ticking on your chest that could explode at any moment and bard seemed to notice it.

a soft smile appeared on his face as he spoke. "you do seem to care, sweetie." the nickname made your heart ache a little, all his nicknames did. thranduil used to call you loving names all the time but the last time you two spoke he called you plainly by your name.

you asked yourself if he also was calling her those sweet names too.

your mouth opened to answer bard but the words didn't came out as the heart ache was ripping apart your body from the insides. bard saw your change of expression, knowing you needed help to get the words out of your chest. you did care after all.

bard puffed, trying not to sound melancholic and grabbed your hand softly. “im sorry, love. i know why you're asking me this and you can be sure i understand it, but thranduil made me promise i wouldn't touch you and i don't want to be in the middle of this break up.” as always, he was a pacifist. bard put his hand on your shoulder and pulled you into a hug. your sight started to get blurry from tears. “it will pass.”

his words echoed in your mind calming every part of you like a balm.

“it will pass.”

you spent what it felt like hours in bard's arms, cying silently. he held you, proving that even if he was thranduil's friend, he was still your friend also. it was a beautiful gesture, and made your soul heal for a while.

yet, an specific sentence of his words lingered in your mind leaving a poison trail on your thoughts: “thranduil made me promise i wouldn't touch you.” why on earth thranduil would care if you fucked bard? what was his problem?

after a moment, you broke the hug and faced bard a little bit ashamed by the way you tried to approach him at first and how you broke down instantly at him reading your feelings like a book. after wiping your tears, you looked at him. your face was swollen from crying but your expression tried to remain calm.

“im sorry i tried to-...” you started, but he cutted you off.

“it doesn't matter, love. it's okay.” bard said, giving you a reassuring stroke on your hand.

a sigh escaped from your lips and then you felt hungry, as you hadn't eat anything in the whole night.

“i will go to the kitchen to get something to eat, i'll be back in a sec.” your voice was trembling at every word but bard smiled at you and nodded, giving you a soft pat on the head before you stood up.

he surely knew how to treat a heartbroken person.

the way to the kitchen was silent, at least for you. the music was still loud but your head was even louder.

your hands placed themselves on the refrigerator door and the familiar soft cold wind welcomed you.

arwen never cared if you took food from her fridge, so you guessed that she probably wouldn't mind if you took an apple. then you closed it, not wanting to be tempted to eat something more and empty the whole refrigerator, leaving your friend having to buy more things tomorrow.

as you ate the apple you remembered how thranduil had cooked you an apple cake one time. it was probably one of the few times he ever baked anything sweet yet the cake resulted to be absolutely perfect.

then you cursed yourself, if you wanted to forget why did he keep coming back in every single little thing you did?

it was like every detail of him was craved deeply onto your heart with no intention of leaving you soon and it hurted more than you could stand.

“you must be (y/n)” a sweet voice called you from behind, and when you turned you saw her.

it was probably one of the most beautiful women you'd ever seen. blue eyes, blonde hair and soft lips.

you fully understood why thranduil would ever leave you for her. she was surely beautiful like if she were some kind of angel.

“yes, i am.” the words left your mouth with shyness. she had a smirk on her face, and looked at you while your teeth catched another bite from the apple.

“it's surely nice to meet you.” she answered, but her voice was almost cynical. there was a weird tone of passive aggressiveness behind it but you were probably too high to catch up.

then it became so obvious you couldn't avoid it.

“thran spoke a lot about you.” she continued, getting closer to you. “but i'm sure that he will soon stop.” then she walked some more steps to your direction and you placed the apple on the counter, swallowing hard.

you didn't realized that you probably had a sad look on your face until she spoke again.

“oh, don't put on that face.” she said, chuckling. there was a mocking subtone on her words. “thran will forget you quickly.” her words felt like a sting through your chest. “you surely don't seem as beautiful nor interesting as everyone said, and i will clearly erase you from his heart.”

you were about to answer, but then you saw thranduil appear behind her like if he were searching for her, and it was too much for you to handle. it was too humilliating to see him watching how his girlfriend completely destroyed you.

your steps were fast as you left the kitchen clearly at the verge of tears. the bathroom was the first door you saw as you almost ran out of the room.

the door felt heavy against your hands but it was nothing you couldn't handle. the first instinct you had was sit on the floor, knees against your chest and finally letting it all out.

you didn't cared if anyone heard you. the heartbreak was a weight in your chest that you needed to purge the fastest way possible, even if thranduil mocked you with his girlfriend outside, even of everyone only felt pity for you, even if the world ended tomorrow.

the pain needed to come out.

and as you finally gave yourself permission to cry, the bathroom door started to open.

you almost didn't noticed, as the sounds were minimum but what you did noticed was the cologne thranduil always wore.

your stare didn't raised to face him, and he closed the door.

“what on earth are you doing?” his voice sounded like a dagger through your heart, and then you looked at him from the ground.

“i didn't asked you to come here.” your answer was harsh. “you're clearly having a lot of fun with all of this.”

“i don't care about what you think, (y/n).” you felt like your name was cursed on his lips. thranduil's voice was serious. “i asked you a question.”

you got angry instantly. how dared he to even ask something like that?

as you stood up to face him properly, your face swollen from tears and by looking him in the eyes you noticed he was probably high too. yet the weed nor the alcohol were clouding his senses that much.

his eyes were like an ocean, and you were drowning in it. quickly and deeply.

“i don't know what on earth do you want me to answer. i literally don't know.” you said, clearly irritated with his attitude and your voice trembling with fury. “what the fuck do you want me to say?”

“don't talk to me like that” he answered harshly. memories of your last fight came to you like a storm. “i asked you why are you crying in the bathroom like a pathetic little girl” thranduil said. “you were clearly capable of defending yourself two weeks ago”

instantly, you understood he was talking about the fight.

“and you were the same imbecile you're being now.” the answered came from your lips almost drowning you in venom and thranduil's expression became more cold than before if that was even possible. “it didn't occur to you, that maybe and just maybe, i don't want to fight for a man like you in the middle of my friend birthday party?”

“a man like me?” he sounded almost offended, and took a step closer to you, his head over yours and his serious eyes looking down at you. “you were dying for a man like me not even a month ago”

and you were still dying for him.

as thranduil was much taller than you, after the break up you discovered that arguing with him was one of the most intimidating things you'd ever done.

yet you faced him with bravery, not letting him ruin the last pieces you had from your broken heart.

“well i don't want to anymore.” you said and he got more closer, his chest almost touching yours.

“and what kind of man do you want then? you want a man like bard?” thranduil asked and he sounded annoyed, his face was stoic but the subtone of his words betrayed his feelings.

he sounded jealous, and he clearly was.

“and what is your problem if i do?” you bited back, pushing his buttons. “maybe he'll treat me way much better than you, in fact, i'm pretty sure he wouldn't replace or use me « to heal » in the first place.” you avoided his eyes while you spoke, not wanting your look to give away the fact that you didn't wanted to be with anyone else than thranduil.

thranduil let out an irritated puff, then his hand went straight to your face, grabbing it tightly, forcing you to look at him.

“then go date him, (y/n).” he said, his voice becoming rough. “that's really what you want?” thranduil asked.

you didn't answered, as you became nervous. yet your hands went to his chest, trying to push him out but it was useless.

thranduil was visibly angry and an irritated chuckle left his lips.

“but i don't think you want that, do you love?” he said, not really expecting you to say anything, cause he already knew the answer. “actually, if i remember correctly, less than a month ago you were in my bed whimpering for me.”

thranduil calling you « love » again made your heart skip a beat as the rest of his words burned your skin like a wildfire.

“why are you throwing a tantrum, thranduil?” you asked, annoyed. he was completely delusional if he thought you wouldn't fire back. “isn't your new girlfriend enough for you that you have to come looking for me like a little puppy?” every word you said felt like if you were digging your own grave, but you didn't cared at all. thranduil's grip on your face became harder.

the next thing that happened was probably the last thing you expected.

thranduil kissed you fiercely, like a unleashed beast. it was agressive, but you played along.

it was like drinking from an oasis in the middle of the dessert, and you answered him with the same obsessive hunger. you broke the kiss briefly to push him almost violently against the bathroom door, and then you were the one to attack his mouth to shut him up before he could say anything.

a slow song started to sound loudly in the house, making the contact more passionate.

« maybe i'm too young, to keep good love from going wrong »

thranduil went from kissing you like an animal to kiss you tenderly, his hand releasing your face to caress your head. he subtely guided you to the floor, where he sat with his back against the door and you placed yourself in his lap, straddling him.

minutes passed, his lips tasted like if you were drinking napalm making your loins burn, and your blood rushed quickly to your cheeks. both of his hands placed themselves on your hips, pulling you closer as his tongue asked you permission to enter your mouth.

« so 'll wait for you, love, and I'll burn. will I ever see your sweet return? »

you open your mouth and let him do as he please, and thranduil takes the opportunity, introducing his tongue. then, the kiss abandoned its sweet nature to become an agressive fight between the both of you, again. your hands move to his hair, making it messy.

thranduil wastes no time and one of his hands moves to your neck, making a little bit of pressure, while kissing you.

the kiss is broken up by the need to take a little bit of air, and you both look at eachother in the eyes, his hand not leaving its place.

« it's never over, all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter »

“i hate you” you say agitated, your lips swollen from the past interaction.

he chuckled, breathing heavily. “i hate you too.”

« it's never over, she is the tear that hangs inside my soul forever »

and then he pulled you to kiss you again, roughly. his left hand went under your dress, caressing your thigh and the other made presure on your neck and made you sigh in between the kiss. thranduil smiled as you kept kissing eachother hungrily, now moving his hand closer to the sweet spot between your legs.

you made sure to kiss him hard, and bited his lip with delicacy as he moved your underwear to the side, thinking that if you were lucky, his girlfriend would taste you too when she kissed him.

thranduil touched you freely, like he still loved you. you whined against his mouth, and he broke the kiss.

“you still want to go out with bard?” he asked, releasing your neck to make you look at him by grabbing your chin. his other hand was between your legs, playing with you and making you sigh again.

« lover, you should've come over, 'cause it's not too late »

there was a brief silence as you tried to hold yourself together to give him an answer.

“n-no.” you said. “do you love her?” the sudden question came from your lips in an agitated whimper as you looked him in the eyes. for some reason you felt he almost rewarded you by moving his hand faster against you, making you gasp.

“no.��� thranduil finally asnwered only for you to kiss him again. you grabbed both sides of his face, and his right hand caressed your hair softly.

and then your little make out session was terribly interrupted by loud and violent knocks on the door. you both stood up quickly, like children being caught doing a mischief.

he made you a sign to keep quiet and spoke.

“yes?” thranduil said, calmly.

“babe, is that you?” you rolled your eyes at the sound of his girlfriend's voice. thranduil noticed and a little mischievous smile appeared on his lips.

“yes, it's me. give me five minutes.” he answered, his voice was too calm for the events that unfolded just moments before.

thranduil then pressed you against the wall, next to the door so the door could cover your presence while he went out. you wondered if his new girlfriend was really that stupid to not notice her, but you quickly thought that if thranduil was doing this he probably believed too that she was indeed stupid.

you admired how he always knew how to manage all the situations, but something in your chest ached when he gave you another kiss before whispering a soft « i love you » and opening the door, leaving you shocked.

he loved you. thranduil really loved you.

“im here, love.” thranduil said to her, covering your presence with the door and showing his girlfriend that no one was in the bathroom with him. at least to her eyes.

“the party is ending, thran. we should go.” she said. oh you loathed her, and a part of you hated thranduil for leaving you for her. you wanted him to say no, to stay with you, but he didn't.

“okay. let's go.” he answered, and exited the bathroom, leaving you alone but forgetting to turn off the light.

you walked to the mirror, saw your messy make up, the frustrated look on your face after being interrupted and your lips subtly swollen from the kisses and you laughed.

you fucking laughed.

you laughed because, no matter what she could say or do to compete with you, you've already won. he didn't loved her, he was yours. and you hoped; no, you knew, that everytime she kissed him, she would have to taste you too.

and to think you didn't intended to fight over him on the first place, but now the game was on.

I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKED THIS!! it was super hard for me to finish this, and i plan to do a part 2 so stay tuned <3