#chapter thirty-seven
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I am liking Jujutsu Kaisen, way more than I imagined I would, but I foresee it will let me down and it's keeping me from enjoying this as much as I could haha
I think the characters and dynamics are well set, and I think many of them have an incredibly good and deep potential, but I would be willing to bet they'll not get a proper development, enough for them to really hit. A well assembled set of gears is not enough to make the movement go, you have to wind the clockwork.
I think Gojo and Megumi have a fascinating and very complex dynamic, but I doubt it will be given the time and care that imo it needs to actually work. And it is going well enough for now! One could see the intimacy between them was deeper than the one Gojo had with, say, Yuji and Nobara ever since the very first few episodes despite the fact Fushiguro too was a first year. But the pieces forming what they have are extremely complex, and it just wouldn't be realistic if it doesn't show, even if in a not showing way, or if it doesn't have consequences or implications.
It's one of those dynamics that shape one's life, the way one regards the world, the way one establishes or not relationships with other people. It's one of those dynamics that could be full of fondness, gratitude, resentment, admiration, trust, and that imply intimacy, the good kind or the bad, even if in just the knowledge of someone who's been a constant through your life. It could, and would, imply a myriad of feelings, and probably in such a mix it could imply contradictory feelings too. Even the nothingness would weight, even the nothingness would be significant and meaningful.
Gojo took Megumi and his sister under his wing, the son of a man who murdered him, because of both selfish and selfless reasons. Megumi looks like Toji. What does Gojo feel about this? How does Gojo deal with this? How does Gojo go about taking care of Megumi? Would he walk him to school? Make him breakfast? Celebrate his birthdays making him blow candles? Did he take him to the zoo? Does the relationship between them feel professional or is it something more? Gojo appreciates his students, but is Megumi to him just another student? When Gojo faces Sukuna in Megumi's body, did he see the kid he raised, or does he just see Sukuna in one of his students' body? Did he have one faint wavering instant? And how does Megumi feel about this? Is he resentful of him? Resentful of the situation? Of the selfishness behind his actions? Does he feel like a pawn? Is he grateful? Does he resent feeling grateful? Would he rather not? Does he love Gojo? Does he feel nothing about him other than what he could feel about a teacher that sort of annoys him but knows he's reliable in his strength? Does he think it unfair, cruel or unfeeling that Gojo is close, closer perhaps, with Yuuji or Yuta, considering their story? When Sukuna slices Gojo in two, does the remnants of Megumi's soul tremble?
And not just Megumi and Gojo. Yuuji and Nanami, Gojo and Nanami, Yuuji and Fushiguro, Nobara and the boys, or Nobara and Maki, Todo and Yuuji or Yuta, Gojo and Yuta, Megumi and his sister. Gojo and Geto, even! If the pieces are well set, the dynamics are intriguing, interesting, and have potential to be deep, but then the characters have like two plot relevant scenes that punch you hard, but little more, it's not nearly enough. Especially not nearly enough for the enormity that is shonen dynamics and situations. And the potential existing at all, and then not delivering, makes it all the more frustrating when you're left with something mediocre that could have been so good.
The development of dynamics through not only a few plot relevant gut wrenching moving scenes, but also the smallness of life, is important. The friend who recommended this to me said that those things were just unnecessary filler, but I disagree. I think there's a big difference between a large amount of anime-only filler episodes whose existence is based on the fact they had run out of manga chapters to animate, and moments of quietness. The low stakes character-driven moments of quietness can be so telling and so insightful, and they are so satisfactory when brought back later in higher stakes situations. My friend teased me there was no scene of Gojo making breakfast to Megumi, that it would be an idiotic idea, but it would be so telling. How he makes breakfast, what they eat, if he tries hard or if it's all mechanised, if they have personal bowls or if they use whatever, if he just buys them some pastry on the way to school, if the way they have breakfast changes through the years, or if he doesn't make them breakfast at all! All that would be very insightful on their dynamic and its evolution. All that would give a glimpse on how they regard each other and why, even in the present. All that could become meaningful in tense situations and high stakes scenes.
These moments also let the plot breath; if a lot is happening all the time, if every character is always experiencing trauma after trauma, the entire story is so emotionally draining that at some point you don't even care all that much. Besides, these nothing moments or low stakes plot arcs, besides deepening and developing dynamics, also let some in-world time pass, which would make the intimacy and bond between characters more believable imo; between Yuuji eating Sukuna's finger and their last confrontation in December how much time has passed? A few months? Am I truly to believe these characters are so everything to each other in only a few months?
Without some smallness, some repetition, some daily life, some low stakes not plot-centric development, the dynamics don't hit, they don't truly feel fleshed out, and dynamics as complex as the ones Megumi and Gojo have, or as supposedly meaningful as the one Megumi has with Yuuji or his sister, should be fleshed out if they're going to exist at all. Otherwise they'd risk making the writing feel awkward and fake. Besides, if the dynamics felt well fleshed out and realistic, they would shape the way the characters interact and act, and how they deal with situations, thus being plot relevant.
The shonen genre has so much happening all the time, the stakes are so high, the dynamics are so rooted in big events and the relationships carry enormous weight and implications. Yet they barely get developed, and it feels so stupid, so plain, the absence of something so important noticeable like a constant void, a shapeless nothingness present in every scene. It makes the characters feel like cardboard figures. Jujutsu Kaisen is already getting a better job than many, but I doubt it will do enough for what I've heard, and I fear I am bound to feel let down, and bound to feel unmoved.
After all, if not enough time and care has been given to develop a dynamic, I am not going to feel pressured by the high stakes; if not enough time and care has been given to develop the dynamic between Megumi and Yuuji, as good potential as it has I am bound to feel little for this last confrontation between Sukuna and Itadori, and his effort in getting Megumi back.
#It's not that I think everything has to be character driven or take a lot of care about dynamics#Death Note for instance works well without it. There's juice in the dynamic between Light and his father and the role of Matsuda there#and it works well with Light's views and their evolution and the whole Kira situation. It isn't much. It doesn't need more#But Death Note doesn't truly drop something as big as Gojo and Megumi to then do barely nothing about it#('But L and Watari' not the same at all. That was deepened in the anime and besides Watari is not one of the main characters)#Or Megumi and his sister. If we see barely nothing of Megumi and his sister other than shiny flashbacks of her#how am I to feel moved by it all beyond superficial emotions? I don't know. It just feels so like cardboard to me#And it annoys me! It annoys me a lot! Because Jujutsu Kaisen has amazing potential! The dynamics and characters could be amazing!#But I don't trust they'll live to their full potential and the potential existing for nothing is ruining this for me xD#Jujutsu Kaisen#Sorry this time I'm tagging it. I want to find this and see if I was right when I'm finished. I think I'll read the manga too#The condescending filler breakfast comment by my friend was ironic considering the Kramer vs. Kramer breakfast scenes exist#Breakfast can be so telling. And besides he loves the Chainsaw Man coffee scene so I don't get why not breakfast#But truly some small daily life moments can tell us a lot about a character that we could recognise later on in high stakes scenes#such as how they deal in tense situationsâ what makes them snap#how they go about dealing with a problem.#Sometimes it could be smaller moments or conversations what makes characters reconsider thingsâ not just having Sukuna rip their heart out#In Pandora Hearts the conversation between Elliot and Oz about the book series they love and their favourite characters becomes key#Oz's development and how he regards thingsâ his own personâ and how he deals with situations will be shaped later on by this conversation#till the very end. The entire main character's development is shaped by a 'filler' conversation.It's not filler. It's just not a fight scen#Shonen manga readers find everything filler except for fights which is ironic considering that many fights in shonen feel unnecessary#Breakfast is unnecessary. Just filler. Fighting thirty seven secondary monsters or chapter after chapter of physical training is not. Okay#Things can be small but plot relevant. If it shapes and fleshes out and deepens a character or a relationship it is not filler#And mainly MAINLY for the love of everything good if you're going to make a fucked up or Meaningful Beyond Everything dynamic#give it time and care. Actually write it. Don't give me two panels and one conversation after some life and death situation. It's not enoug#Especially if I'm to believe they are important. Make me believe they actually are#I don't know... This issue with not trusting the development of very well set potential in Jujutsu Kaisen#has not only been keeping me from thoroughly enjoying the seriesâ but actively keeping me from watching for weeks#It makes me doubt if I want to spend my time in this at all since after all time is limited and we can but spend it in a handful of things#A pity. I really love some things and I really think Megumi and Gojo could be everything to me haha the Heathcliff/Hareton vibe gets me
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just watched the riverdale finale. keep in mind that I watched season 1 and the first couple episodes of season 2 and then abandoned ship. I do not know character names for new characters. I'm also kind of curious if the gang exists anymore and if so what place they have in the 1950s timeline
#riverdale#riverdale finale#poll#chapter one hundred thirty seven: goodbye#goodbye riverdale#137 goodbye riverdale#s7ep20#season 7 episode 20#finale#7x20#im sorry to riverdale fans but what the fuck is this show on#betty cooper#archie andrews#jughead jones#veronica lodge#cheryl blossom#reggie mantle
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wow! i got a comment on wattpad that might actually be like. from an actual reader. for the first time!
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they did it. they really did it. they pulled the endless summer card on us. i'm out.
#calm but really anticipating the angst the tears the anxiety when it happens#but fuck when i played the last chapter of endless summer i was a sobbing mess for thirty minutes#at seven fucking a.m. without any sleep#took out my heart and tore it into millions of pieces if i say so myself#choices#playchoices#choices stories you play#it lives within#it lives anthology#it lives project#it lives within spoilers
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wolfgang is slowly turning into the group leader isnât heâŠ.thatâs not good
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#love him to bits yâknow#but man#heâs been to juvie and steals for fun#also wolfgang and charlie started disliking each other randomly#I let the game run for a while and they had a negative relationship#charlie called out wolfgang for being mean to mr morlind#I was gonna make them not like each other anyways#so now itâs apart of the story#s4sharkteethmadesims#part two: high school#part two chapter thirty seven#thecassidystory#simstory#the sims 4#Wolfgang Munch#Haylee Delaney#Journey Cassidy#Ellie Ramirez#Emma Delaney#Hayley Rocker#Pierce Cassidy#Caiphus Penn
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April 15th Chapter Thirty-seven
AO3
They stumble back into the trenches, muddy and bloody. All, to a man, have wide staring eyes, shell shocked. The hands, holding tight to their rifles, tremble. The first battle has begun.
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William, Jamie, and Ian, are still in one piece. They are in the same unit and crouch together in the bloody mud.
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âI thought it would be like shooting a buck. It isnât. They donât die right away, either. The screams! They haunt our dreams, even when we can sleep.â
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Brian reads the letter from his eldest son. Mary received one, asking after the children, telling her that they are alright. He gets the ones they canât write to their wives.
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He folds it with trembling hands. It joins the others in an old cigar box. One day, when he is much older, Willie will be able to read them. He and Fergus, Wee Ian, Quinton. His grandsons will know why their fatherâs are the way they are. Or, no how they used to be.
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He shakes his head. No, they will return. Scarred and battered but home. He lowers his head and once again prays for them.
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Claire folds the letter after reading it to the children. Her hands rest on her huge baby bump. At six months, it shouldnât be this big. She has a strong feeling that she is having twins. This is a concern she has yet to share with her husband. He has enough going on. If two arrive, then she will tell him.
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âDa da bye bye?â Faith questions. They are doing all they can to keep his memory alive in her. Her brothers talk about him all the time. Mainly when playing soldiers.
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âDaddy and our uncles are off fighting the bad men.â Quinton answers.
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âAye Faith, he is going bang bang.â Fergus places his fingers out, in pretend guns and makes shooting noises.
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âDaddy and your uncleâs will be back.â Claire adds, frowning at her boys. They both lower their heads. She is glad that Jamie and the others are heroes to them. It is just being reminded of the horrors they are going through isnât easy.
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She knows that herself and Mary and Jenny are only getting the cleaned up version of what they are experiencing. Her father-in-law looks increasingly wane every time the post comes. They are sharing with him the worst of it.
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âFergus and Quinton, go write letters to your daddy.â
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They turn and go to do it. She places Faith in her shrinking lap and starts to rock her. Her eyes are far away.
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âOh, oh, owe!â she screams as the pains of child birth wash over her.
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The screams of dying men surround him. Even so, he hears Claire, as if she was right beside him. He knows the baby is coming.
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âJust a bit more. The baby is almost here.â The midwife sooths. She clings to Jenny and Mary. Each have one of her hands as she presses the baby out.
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Ian letâs out an unholy scream beside him. He drops and Jamie falls down beside him. It is his leg. It is gone.
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âA strong lad.â She announces, lifting the baby up. Jenny moves to assist, taken her new nephew in hand, so the midwife can deliver his sibling.
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Jamie pulls his belt off, fashioning a tourniquet while screaming for the medics. âYou stay with me Ian! Do you hear me! Stay, Jenny and those babies need you. Medic!â
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âIan!â Jenny feels faint and finds a seat holding the baby fast.
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âHenry after his late grandpa.â Claire says between breaths, believing Jenny was naming the baby.
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âDo you have a name for another lad?â The midwife asks, âFor Master Henry has a baby brother.â
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While Claire lays, cradling her newest sons, Jenny explains that she believes something happened to Ian.
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âWe shall pray.â Mary declares. Always a devote woman, with her husband and brothers -in -law in the middle of a war, her prayers have increased. As the mistress of the house, she leads her family in morning devotions and evening prayers.
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He is gathered into a MASH tent. Jamie prays as he continues to fight. He prays for both Ian and Claire.
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âJohn,â she announces, âIt is a form of Ian and honors Jamieâs good mate. Henry Lambert and John Brian. That is their names.â
#my writing#outlander fanfic#april 15th#chapter thirty seven#jamie and claire#cannon divergence#outlander fandom
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Oh damn this is a good one
new game is to type one through ten in your tags and see what comes up. i think my favorite of mine is âmy uncle told us he spent seven and a half hours in a sensory deprivation tank onceâ but âgideon the ninth motherfuckerâ is a close second
#i got another oneshot out of this so theres that#me: haha yeah one or two chapters!#fe three houses#my four year biomedical science degree is finally being put to good use#she sat like that for five straight minutes#she slept almost the entire sixteen hour drive when i moved to the coast#also me: kicks the other thirty seven chapters under my bed#ive already killed four of the eight in the dunes#ninetales#i post regularly but ten days of waiting when i have ten additional chapters written is excruciating
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NOC Exclusive Clip: Archie Questions What He Wants in the Last 'Riverdale' Musical Episode
NOC Exclusive Clip: Archie Questions What He Wants in the Last 'Riverdale' Musical Episode @CW_Riverdale #Riverdale @TheCW @warnerbrostv #ArchietheMusical #NowLeavingRiverdale @ArchieComics
Itâs almost time for the final Riverdale musical episode and this one is centered on the one and only Archie Andrews. âChapter One Hundred Thirty-One: Archie the Musicalâ airs this Wednesday at 9 PM and The Nerds of Color has an exclusive sneak peek featuring KJ Apa, Casey Cott, Karl Walcott, and Nicholas Barasch. Continue reading Untitled
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#Archie#Archie Comics#Casey Cott#Chapter One Hundred Thirty-One: Archie the Musical#episode 7Ă14#exclusive clip#final season#Karl Walcott#KJ Apa#Musicals#Nicholas Barasch#Riverdale#season seven#sneak peek#Television#The CW#tv series#Warner Bros. Television#YouTube
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IN PERFECT SYNC [j.jh smau]
genres: humour, friends to enemies to lovers, secret relationship, forced proximity, college au, dancer au, hiphopdancer!jaehyun, fboy!jaehyun, balletdancer!yn
synopsis: your dance college wasnât the easiest to get in to, let alone was it easy to stay. so what happens when your college decides they need to cut two of the dance teams from competing ever again, the ballet team and the hiphop team. will both teams get along in order to solve their connected issue, or will they fight to get their own team back to competing again? only you and hiphop dance team captain, jeong jaehyun, can decide your teams fates. but thereâs one problem, you hate eachother.
WARNINGS: mention of drugs/alcohol, language, jokes about sex, mention of injury, some usage of ballet terminology, lots of extensive lore?, angst, lots of angst, slowburn as fuck obviously, major character betrayal, lots of lying, i mean LOTS of lying, jaehyun is an asshole for like 50% of this, the plot gets v messy and confusing but i live for that so
DISCLAIMER: all portrayals of people are fake and from my imagination, in no way am i claiming that they act like this irl.
written wc: 8.8k
STATUS: complete! â 09.03.24 - 10.02.24
TAGLIST - OPEN!
MASTERLIST
[profiles one] || [profiles two]
[one â jungwoos scared of girls]
[two â that canât be good]
[three â well that sucks]
[four â heâs stalking you]
[five â we were just friends]
[six â the man he was] half written
[seven â i need to talk to you]
[eight â iâve waited so long]
[nine â roses]
[ten â im over you]
[eleven â ur over me?]
[twelve â betrayal] written chapter
[thirteen â dimples]
[fourteen â conflict] written chapter
[fifteen â i never knew]
[sixteen â youâre welcome, btw]
[seventeen â she deserves to know]
[eighteen â it was me.] written chapter
[nineteen â hey guysâŠ]
[twenty â collab of the century]
[twenty-one â iâm happy heâs over u]
[twenty-two â i did it for you] written chapter
[twenty-three â no one knows except..]
[twenty-four â that same old dimpled smile] written chapter
[twenty-five â everything about you]
[twenty-six â however hard it may be.] half written
[twenty-six and a half â itâs finally happening]
[twenty-seven â they can wait]
[twenty-eight â ive nothing to fear] written chapter
[twenty-nine â they donât know we know they know we know]
[thirty â in perfect sync.] written chapter
end.
replies, likes and reblogs are all greatly appreciated! feel free to send thoughts and requests in my asks: characters, scenes, chapters etc.
#nct#jaehyun#nct college au#nct smau#nct 127#nct 127 smau#nct dream#nct 127 fanfic#jaehyun x reader#jeong jaehyun#jaehyun smau#jeong jaehyun smau#jaehyun fanfic#jaehyun nct#nct fanfic#kpop#kpop smau
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do you believe me now? | 4
in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.
series masterlist
18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses
(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!
âThree million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.â
Youâve lost count of how many stupid math questions youâve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think youâve finally stumped him.Â
âThat one is complicated.â
You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye.Â
âYou donât know.â
âI do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you arenât a math person.â
âBullshit!â You scoff, âyou donât know!â
âIt would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. Itâs a really big number.â
âOh, really big, huh?â you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. âUm⊠what numbers did I say?â
Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign.Â
You look at it.Â
And then you set your phone down.Â
âI was right, huh?â he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness.Â
Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder.Â
âI donât like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?â
Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside.Â
âThe e stands for exponent. Itâs to the power of ten.â
âEver heard of a rhetorical question?â
âYes, I have.â
Itâs hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes.Â
âYouâre annoying. Letâs do something else.â
You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, heâs still in his suit from workâheâd left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment.Â
He looks good. Almost too good.Â
âSomething like what?â he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek.Â
âSomething⊠naked?â
His grin widens and he shakes his head.Â
âMe naked or you naked?â
Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth.Â
âMm⊠why not both?â
âHm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?â
The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencerâs to kiss him.Â
âBecause youâre so smart, and you think itâs a great idea.â
He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.
âYou sound sure of yourself.â
âBecause I am!â You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. âIt doesnât make any sense for us to have not had sex. I donât care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.â
He grabs your wrist carefully.Â
âIt is not moral,â he scoffs. âWe havenât even talked about it yet.â
âReally? Because I feel like weâve talked about it a lot.âÂ
He begins to reply, but you realize you donât want to get into a debate over whether youâve technically talked about it yet. âI donât even care! If thatâs all thatâs standing in your way, then letâs talk about it. Right now.â
Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek.Â
âFine. But I have things to say youâre not going to like.â
âSo business as usual?â
He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best.Â
âI know you probably wonât see it this way, butâsex is different than everything else weâve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connectionâthatâs all true. Which is why, in my opinion, itâs incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because itâs so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust andâand⊠care about.â
A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.
Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. Youâll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesnât ache just a little in your whole body.Â
You cover his hand with your own.Â
âAre you going to break up with me anytime soon?â
Spencerâs eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion.Â
âWhat? No!â
âAre you going to cheat on me?â
âAbsolutely not, Iââ
âThen Iâm not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.â
âHoney, I just want you to be 100% sure that Iâm what you want.â
âOh my god,â you groan, flopping onto your back once more. âI have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I donât know how to be any surer.â
Itâs quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal youâd been anticipating doesnât comeâinstead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies.Â
âEvery time?â
ââŠyes, every time,â you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks.Â
âInteresting. And what is it that you think about exactly?â
You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way heâs sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know itâs a false pretense.Â
âUgh, I donât know! Donât make me answer that!â
âYou said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,â he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. âTell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.â
You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this.Â
âI⊠I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.â
Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy.Â
âIt might, sweetheart. Thatâs one of the reasons weâve held back. IâŠÂ really donât want to hurt you. I donât even know if I can.â
You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel.Â
âSometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.â
He kisses your palm.Â
âYouâll be okay. It doesnât hurt for everyone, and even if it does, youâre resilient.â
âExactly. So you have to get over yourself.â
Spencer laughs like he wasnât expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you. Â
âYeah. Yeah, maybe I do.â
Heâs smiling again as he leans down and kisses youâa slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him.Â
âPlease?â you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you.Â
âWhat is it that you think you want? You donât even know what youâre asking for.â
âTell me,â you beg, chasing his lips. âTell me what youâre going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.â
Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly.Â
âYou want to know what Iâd do to you?â
âYesââ you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesnât stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds.Â
âWell⊠we both know how anxious you get,â he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. âYouâre hard to get out of your head when youâre nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute youâre with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch youâso first I would touch you like Iâve touched you before. Iâd make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.â You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. âYouâre going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?â
As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no.Â
âI mean I need you relaxed and wet. Youâll excuse my crude language.â
You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on itâs almost painful.Â
âWhat are you gonna do after that?â
âWhat else is there to do but fuck you after that?â he breathes. âYou want me to tell you how Iâd fuck you?â
Something about it makes you whine salaciously. Youâve heard him curseâyouâve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when itâs low in your ear and youâre covertly undressing him and heâs pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly.Â
âYes, please.âÂ
He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting.Â
âI would have to take my time with you. Youâll be overwhelmed. I know you think you wonât, but you will. Iâm going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. Itâs going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.â
âWhy careful? I donât want that.â
He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine.Â
âYeah, you do. Youâre going to want me to be careful when Iâmââ he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. âRight here. Approximately.â
The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it.Â
âPlease donât make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I donât want it to be anyone else. I promise Iâm ready.â
Itâs silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. Heâs finally going to give you what youâve been begging for.Â
Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmeringâ
And then his phone rings.Â
You both freezeâhe melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present.Â
Heâs breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing.Â
âIâm sorry.â
Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.
âThis is Reid,â he says, lackluster.Â
If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is sayingâbut you donât bother listening. Itâs going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem.Â
âOkay. Iâll be there in an hour.â
He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfullyâtaking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest.Â
âI have to go right now,â he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place.Â
You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipperâthough all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand.Â
âI know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.â
He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair.Â
âI donât love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?â
You force a smile. Great. So youâll be spending the night in his bed after allâjust without him.Â
âSure. Thanks.â
âYeah.â
Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful.Â
Soon youâre walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front.Â
âIâm sorry,â he sighs again.Â
âSpencer, itâs fine. Itâs your job. You donât need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.â
âI know, but⊠itâs easier in theory than in practice.â
You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesnât quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and heâs missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you.Â
But itâs not their fault. You just want someone to blame.Â
Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you.Â
In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound itâs like a chemical reactionâeverywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. Itâs every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul.Â
âSpencer?â
âHm?âÂ
Itâs nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin.Â
âIâŠâ
Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesnât change the fact that heâs about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential.Â
He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands.Â
âYou what?â He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuckâyou feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind.Â
âI forget.â
FUUUUUUCK.Â
Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake.Â
He knows.Â
He knows you didnât forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and heâs going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity.Â
Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like.Â
âWell, let me know if you remember.â
Itâs too gentle and at the same time he canât hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.
Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly theyâd interacted before.Â
You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bedâthough you donât really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.
But perhaps this is all an overreaction. Itâs not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anythingâit was bad timing, anyway. And why canât he say it? In fact, why hasnât he said it?Â
Maybe you have it all wrong.Â
Maybe he doesnât feel that way about you.Â
You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick.Â
24 hours go by.Â
24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartmentâit was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldnât call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadnât left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries youâd used up.Â
Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure.Â
Before you know it, itâs midnight, and youâre dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush youâd bought at the storeâmaybe this whole situation hadnât been entirely unwitting on your part.)
Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If itâs something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how youâre able to doze off.Â
Youâre almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern whoâs even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because youâre half asleep, you answer without checking.Â
âHello?â
Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep.Â
âShit, did I wake you?â
âSpence?â you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed.Â
â⊠yeah,â he chuckles. âDid you not check who was calling before you picked up?â
âI was asleep,â you pout. âKinda.â
âOkay. Go back to sleep, honey. Weâll talk tomorrow.â
You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone.Â
âNo! No, Iâm awake. Whatâs up? Why did you call?â
A longer stretch of silenceâyouâre too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadnât said.Â
âI just needed to hear your voice,â he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room.Â
âOh. Is everything okay?â
âAs much as it can be.â
âRight.â
More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you havenât had with Spencer in a while.Â
âIâm sorry⊠I donât really know what to say.â
âThatâs okay,â he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, âwhy donât you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if youâre too tired.â
âDonât ask me about my day,â you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs.Â
âWhat? Why?â
âBecause if I tell you youâre going to think Iâm super weird and youâre going to break up with me.â
Laughter tapers off into gentler tones.Â
âI already think youâre super weird. Itâs actually one of your most attractive qualities.â
Blood rushes to your cheeks.Â
âBut itâs like⊠borderline crazy.â
Immediately, he replies, âfor better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.â
âThank you for calling me crazy and super weird,â you grumble.Â
âI also called you attractive twice. Tell me.â
When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and itâs sort of raspy and low because itâs late and heâs been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his faceâyou imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphoneâyou have a very difficult time saying no.Â
âFine. Guess where I am right now.â
âUm, I would hope youâre in bed?â
You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly.Â
âGuess whose bed.â
Silence.Â
âWhat an interesting question.â That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. âIf itâs not mine or yours, weâre going to have issues.â
âBut if it is yours? Youâre not going to call the police on me?â
âWhy would I call the police? To tell them thereâs a pretty girl in my bed and I donât want her there?â
âTo tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.â
Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.
âIf you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.â The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. âButâyeah, donât invite anyone else in.â More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. âHaving people in my space makes me anxious.â
âBut not me?â Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencerâs reply is soft, as if heâs picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.
âNo, not you. You are always the exception.â
âGood,â you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. âBecause I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.â
Spencer groans.Â
âYouâre killing me.â
âWhat? What did I do!â
âDonât talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think youâre intentionally being a brat.â
âYou asked me about my day! Iâm just telling you what I did!â
But youâre also intentional teasing him for sure.  After a pause, he sighs in defeat.Â
âYouâre right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.â
âWell,â you begin, all too eager, âI had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, andââ
âOkay.â
âOkay what?â you frown.Â
âTell me what this is.â
âIâI donât know what you mean.â
Lying to a profiler is usually pointless.Â
âIâm not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.â
Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up.Â
âI donât know. I miss you.â
He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones.  It changes the frequency youâre vibrating at. Itâs hypnotic.Â
âBut thatâs not really why youâre being intentionally provocative, is it?â
âNo,â you admit quietly. âIâm still upset you had to go last night.â
âSo youâre frustrated and youâre taking it out on me?â
Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like thatâŠ
âIâm not taking anything out on you.â
âI think you are. And I donât appreciate that, because Iâm on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?â
Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you donât understand.Â
âYour bed with me,â you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket.Â
âRight. So why donât you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?â
âI wasnât punishing you,â you mutter.Â
âNo? You werenât intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that Iâd have to think about what I canât have right now?â
âIââ
âBelieve me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I canât have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you canât say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts Iâve been having about you for seventeen hours.â
The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges.Â
âWhat⊠what thoughts?â
âNone that you need to concern yourself with.â
âYou canât just say something like that and then not tell me!â you insist. Heâs obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and itâs fair but it doesnât mean you have to like it.Â
âI can do whatever I want,â Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because heâs right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within youâa desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it.Â
âFine. Then so can I. And thereâs nothing you can do to stop me.â
âI wouldnât dream of it even if I could.â
âSpencer,â you warn. âIf you donât tell me what you were thinking Iâm gonnaââ you look around the room for ammo. âIâm gonna look through your nightstand!â
âGo ahead. Iâll warn you, itâs not very interesting.â
âSounds like what someone who has something hide would say,â you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer.Â
Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contentsâa small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, andâ
âSpencer Reid,â you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, âwhat are these?â
âI donât know. I canât see what youâre referring to.â
âTake a wild guess.â
âOh, I have one. But Iâd like to hear you say it.â
You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Wellâthey donât say karma is a bitch for nothing.Â
âWhat are you doing with a box of condoms?âÂ
He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you.Â
âThose are years old. Iâve used three since I bought them.â
âDonât tell me that,â you whine. âI donât wanna think about all the other women youâve seduced.â
âYou wanted them to be for you, huh?âÂ
You flush. Honestly you hadnât even thought about that.Â
âI⊠I donât know. I kind of just assumedâŠâ
Itâs silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadnât even considered protection when youâd imagined sleeping with him before.Â
âYou assumed what, honey?â he asks, voice soft.Â
âItâs dumb. I canât tell you.â
âYou can tell me anything. Iâm not going to think itâs dumb, I promise.â
You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest.Â
âWhenever I imagined it⊠we didnâtâŠÂ use anything.â
The words make you cringe even as youâre saying them. So does the quiet that follows.Â
âWhen you imagine us sleeping together, we donât use a condom?â
âAh!â The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. âYou didnât have to say it! You make me sound so weird!â
âItâs not weird,â he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, âI just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said⊠we would definitely use protection.â
âDo we have to?â
The quiet words take even you by surpriseâand they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts.Â
âWe really should, baby. Thatâs the kind of thing we need to take seriously.â
âBut youâre⊠youâre good, right?â
Thankfully he picks up on your meaning.Â
âI am. I wouldnât touch you if I werenât.â
âAnd Iâm good. So...â
âHm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?â
You groan in frustration.Â
âSpencer, Iâm being serious! There are ways to negate that.â
âHoney,â he murmurs, âI understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, butââ
âIâm telling you itâs already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.â
The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaksâto your surprise, his voice is low and humorous.Â
âThat is⊠good to know. But even soâIâm setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.â
âIs it such a bad thing that I just wannaâI wanna know what it feels like? You donât want that?â
âThatâs not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. Iâm just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.â
You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them.Â
âYou know what I was thinking about?â you ask. Spencer hums curiously. âI was thinking about when you let me, um⊠when you let me touch you how you touch me.â He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.
âWhen you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?â
âWhen Iâyeah,â you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. âAnd  how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like⊠inside me.â
He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like youâre not touching yourself just a little bit.Â
âYou want me to come inside you?â
âYeah,â you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice.Â
â
On the other side of the line, Spencer isnât doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and itâs only getting worse with each little noise you make that you donât seem to realize youâre making.Â
âReally? That would be very messy, baby. Iâm surprised thatâs what you want.â
âBut I really want it,â you breathe. Heâs not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or notâbut heâs here now.Â
âYeah? Is that why youâre touching yourself right now?â
You go silentâwhich is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, twoâ
ââM not.â
Now, he could explain how he knows thatâs a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesnât feel like explaining any of that.Â
âI know thatâs not true,â he murmurs. âYou know what? It wasnât fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I donât want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.â
You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers.Â
âWhere are you touching?â
âUmâover my clothes.â
Cute.Â
âGo under them for me. Tell me how it feels when youâre touching yourself like that.â
It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until youâre whispering, âfeels⊠it feels good. I wish you were here.â
He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base.Â
âI know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. Iâm right here.â
Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines whatâs happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut.Â
âI need them inside,â you whine, and he knows youâre referring to his fingersâthe ones currently stroking his own leaking cock.Â
âYou can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?â
âI am readyââ judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, youâve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. âSpence, it doesnât feel the same.â
âWeâre different sizes, honey. Your hands arenât as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.âÂ
He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower thirdâin other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reachâbut he refrains. Heâs not sure if thatâs good dirty talk.Â
âYou have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. Itâs going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?â
âOkay,â you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. Thereâs a quiet moment. âI canâtâI donât think I can râoh,â
The moan is so pretty Spencer canât help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump.Â
âDid you find it?â
âYeah,â you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. âOh my god.â
âBe gentle,â he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. âYouâre really sensitive there. If youâre not careful youâll make yourself sore.â
âI donât careâholy shitââ the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. âOh my god, Spencer,â in that same strained, high voice. ââM gonnaâah!â
He gets the general sentiment.Â
âWhat, baby? Youâre gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?â
âMhm!â
âYeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?â
âYes,â you cry.Â
âSee? You donât need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you canât stop squirming. I donât know how you think youâre going to take my cock.â
âSpencer!âÂ
He knows.Â
âCome, baby. Let me hear you.â
The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his ownâgrunting as he comes all over his fist.Â
âJesus,â he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. Heâs lightheaded and heâs created a mess and it all happened so quickly. âFuck,â he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel heâd dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. âYou conscious over there?â
âIâm conscious,â you slur, breathing heavily. âIâve never had an orgasm by myself before.â
âAre you proud of yourself?â Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure heâs otherwise clean. âYou should be. I am.â
Heâs barely kidding.Â
âIâll be proud when I can do it without your help,â you tease.Â
âBut Iâll always want to help you with that.â His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what heâd said. âSorry I was so vulgar.â
You laugh. He blushes even more.Â
âAre you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.â
âI donât know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and Iâm genuinely appalled.â
âWell, donât stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.â
âYeah, I think Iâm corrupting you. You probably shouldnât enjoy it.â
The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but heâs pretty sure his voice alone doesnât betray that and you canât sense it through the phone.Â
âOh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop Iâll be very upset.â
âWell god forbid you get upset,â he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason heâs suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide.Â
Or if it was something else. It could also be something else.Â
For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you.Â
â
A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, youâre mapping constellations in the texture of Spencerâs ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine heâs really here.Â
You think about what he saidâhis apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?
âSpencer?â you murmur.Â
âYeah?â
âCan I ask you a question?â
He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, âalways,â through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength.Â
âIf Penelope hadnât called, last night⊠were you going to have sex with me?âÂ
Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like heâs about to speakâand lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink.Â
âI donât know,â he finally admits, lamely. âThat wasnât my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.â
âBut why canât it be your plan?â Itâs an almost whine, pouty and childishâbut the next words are quiet and pained. âIs it something Iâm doing wrong?â
âNo, no! Itâs not you. Youâre perfect. Itâsâitâs complicated. Itâs a me thing.â
Such trite wordsâsuch a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know heâs capable of all the eloquence in the world. Itâs not you, itâs me. Itâs ridiculous.Â
âOkay. Let me simplify this for you,â you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. âI want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or weâre not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And Iâm not eternally patient, Reid.â
Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue.Â
âWatch your mouth,â he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. âWhen you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.â You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. âYou know what I want. Iâve been very clear with you about that. ButâŠâ
âButâŠ?â
Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared.Â
âButâbut to be completely honest⊠I worry that youâll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and Iâm not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and itâs incredibly intimate and I donât want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.â
The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing himâthat you could never, ever regret anything about himâone thing stands out.Â
âYou regret your first time?âÂ
Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell heâs not annoyed at you for asking so much as heâs flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does.Â
âYeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The personâshe didnâtâŠÂ like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasnât in love with meâor maybe she was, I donât knowâbut my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about meâthatâs fine. Itâs fine. I donât want you to feel bad if we donât feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, itâs different, IâI just donât want us to do something we canât undo because I donât want to relive that. And Iâm not saying it will never happen but I just donât want you to make this choice when⊠when right now, I think weâre in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I donât want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didnât understand. Iâm sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But Iâve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.â
Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the worldâs worst case of whiplash.Â
Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins.Â
What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesnât feel the same.Â
You want to scream bloody murder.Â
But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, âoh.â
Maybe thatâs worse.Â
Spencer doesnât reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence.Â
âI didnât realize youâŠâ
I didnât realize that you donât love me back.Â
I didnât realize I like you more than you like me.Â
I didnât realize youâd tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later.Â
If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesnât love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was.Â
âIâm sorry,â he lamely says again, like it could ever help.Â
More silence. Now you canât bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does.Â
âI realize how awkward this is. I really didnât mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when Iâgod, Iâm stupid. Iâm sorry. But can weâcan we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?â
Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why heâs not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?
What does one even wear to a breakup date?
âOkay,â you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like youâve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound.Â
Spencer sighs. Itâs a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more.Â
âOkay. Iâokay. Thank you. UmâIâll let you go back to sleep, now.â
âOkay,â you repeatâas if any of this were okay. But you canât keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if itâs not, youâre silly and dramatic and youâre just proving him right.Â
âGoodnight,â Spencer whispers, and you canât help but feeling that itâs the last time youâll ever hear those words from his mouth while youâre in his bed. And heâs not even fucking here.
So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because theyâll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here.Â
âGoodnight.â
-
part five
#spencer reid#spencer reid fic#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#criminal minds#criminal minds smut#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fic
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Chapter Thirty-Seven: Rufus' Rescue
Midnight peeked from behind a tree at an unassuming, most likely abandoned, house that sat in the middle of a forest. He furrowed his brow as he asked the mages who were hiding among the vegetation with him, "we're sure that this is the right location?" His voice was low, careful not to make too much noise in case there was a hidden person who was on the lookout.
Lucy answered, her voice also low, "yeah, it definitely is. Sirius couldn't be wrong." She reached up with one hand and adjusted Rufus' hat, which she had rested upon her head.
Midnight nodded and glanced at Freed, who was finishing up the runes that Lucy had instructed him to put up. Insurance that Terra, Lust, and Nyx won't be able to easily escape. He then turned back to look at the house again. His eyes roamed over the outside, trying to deduce what part of the house Rufus could be being kept in.
It didn't take long for him to spot a small window that sat at the base of the house's exterior. A basement. It was a typical place to keep a captive, but also the easiest place.
"Have you thought of a plan, Lucy?" Freed asked as he returned to where they were hiding.
Midnight heard her hum in thought before she asked him, "Midnight, do have any guesses as to where in the house they could be keeping Rufus?"
Midnight looked over at her before he looked back at the house. He reached out a hand and pointed at the small window that he had spotted. "My guess would be the basement."
Lucy's eyes quickly locked onto the window. She nodded and requipped a silver key into her hand. Midnight and Freed watched as she stood up and stepped backward, away from the tree that she was hiding behind. She raised her key and softly called out, "Open! Gate of the Fly: Musca!"
In an instant, a young man in a fly costume appeared in front of Lucy, sitting with his legs crisscrossed and his chin resting on top of the knuckles of his hand, which were balled into fists while his arms were propped up in the sides of his knees. He grinned up at Lucy and asked, rather loudly, "what'd ya need?"
Midnight gave a slight grimace at his loud tone while Lucy shushed him. She then instructed him, "I need you to turn into a fly and go into that to find out who is where inside."
Musca stood up and brushed the dirt off of his costume before he questioned, his voice now low, and grin still on his face, "how many people am I looking for?"
"Four. Three celestial wizards and one of our friends."
Musca flashed a thumbs-up before he shifted into a fly and flew toward the house. Midnight watched until he wasn't able to see the spirit any longer. He then looked over at Lucy and asked, "what are we going to do with the celestial wizards if we catch them?"
Lucy glanced at him before she looked down at the ground, seeming to be thinking. It was a question that Midnight hadn't realized that he was wondering, but now that he thought about it, he didn't think they had ever talked about the topic, nor had he been told what the plan was.
Freed looked at Lucy with a furrowed brow. "Yeah, what are we going to do with them? None of the books I looked through have any information on them, and Mest hasn't heard of them, so it's possible that the Magic Council doesn't know about them. That could make turning them in difficult."
Lucy nodded as she continued to stare at the ground. Eventually, she sighed and answered, "let's just focus on saving Rufus. Getting him back safely should be our first priority."
Midnight nodded, but he was still slightly concerned with what they were supposed to do with Terra, Lust, and Nyx. It wouldn't be easy to detain and transport them to be imprisoned. While he was on that train of thought, he also couldn't recall them ever learning how the three celestial wizards' mission was possible.
He looked over at Lucy again, asking, "how are they even able to take over the Celestial Spirit World?"
It was Freed who responded, his tone a little on the harsh side, "I don't think that talking this much is a good idea. We can figure all of that out when we capture them."
Midnight suppressed a glare at the other man's tone while Lucy turned to Freed and soothed as she place a hand on his shoulder, "his questions are understandable, I'm curious too. Try not to be harsh, please."
A light dusting of pink appeared on Freed's cheeks as he softly replied, "right, I apologize." It was clearly directed toward Lucy rather than toward Midnight. However, that wasn't what bothered Midnight. A feeling of irritation swirled in his gut as he grimaced at the sight of the blush on Freed's face.
He turned his head away, to look back at the house. He still didn't understand why it irritated him so much when Lucy would be so affectionate toward Freed or Rufus, before his capture, resulting in either man blushing lightly. There was something about the occasional display that would make him want to steal away Lucy's attention, even though he never responded much better than Freed and Rufus whenever Lucy would focus her attention on him, praising him for any sort of accomplishment.
It especially frustrated him that he had yet to figure out why he felt this way about Lucy. Recently, he's found himself watching her more than he used to. Without realizing it, he would end up staring at her with a warmth on his face and in his heart, along with a fluttering feeling in his gut, as he watches her do anything, typically admiring her newest keys.
Speaking of, has he, Freed, and Rufus given Lucy any of the keys that they collected at la Cour de Velours? He knew that he hadn't given her the two keys that he collected, having forgotten about doing so due to Rufus' capture. He wouldn't be surprised if Freed was the same way and Rufus most likely didn't either due to having been captured.
He turned back to look at Lucy again. She was staring intently at the house, one of her hands resting on her opposite arm as she, seemingly absentmindedly, picked at non-existent lint on her blue shirt sleeve. He quickly found himself staring at her again, but couldn't find it in himself to care very much about how weird it might look. So, he doesn't look away. Instead, he observes how the freshly risen sun shines down on Lucy's golden hair, making it glow beautifully. Her dark brown eyes seemed to sparkle in the light, something that, as he's noticed, was a common thing that happened whenever it was sunny outside.
A sudden sharp, but incredibly brief, pain snapped his attention away from Lucy and over to Freed, who had silently moved to stand just behind him. The green-haired man gave him a silent glare, which was clearly a warning that he should stop staring at Lucy. Midnight returned the glare, continuing the sort of standoff until Lucy spoke excitedly, yet still softly, "Musca! He's back!"
Midnight and Freed watched as Lucy walked past them to speak with her spirit, who returned to his more human form to give his report. The fly costume-clad young man gave a large grin as he chirped, "your blonde friend is in the basement!"
Lucy asked, concern lacing her voice, "did he appear to be hurt?"
Musca shook his head. "Not really. He's tied up, though."
"What about the celestial wizards?"
"Two of them seem to be preparing to leave. The other one is gonna stay, I guess."
Lucy nodded and hummed in thought. "Who are probably leaving?"
"The chick and a guy with blue hair."
Lucy thanked Musca and dismissed him back to his realm. When she turned back to face her two friends, Midnight questioned, "what's the plan now?"
Lucy answered, "we should get to Rufus first. Terra and Lust would know that we're here once they discover the runes that Freed set up, so we need to release him before they get to us before we can get to him. We also need to deal with Nyx, but I'm sure that the three of us can take care of him just fine."
She walked back to the tree that she was previously hidden behind and peered at the house. A few moments of silence followed before she spoke again, "we should wait for Terra and Lust to leave. Once they do, we can go in from different entrances." She turned around to look at her guildmate. "Freed, how many doors did you see?"
"Three. The front door, back door, and a side door." Freed wasted no time in listing off the entrances to the house that he had seen while setting up his runes.
Lucy nodded. "I'll go in from the door opposite of the one that Terra and Lust exit from. While I look for Rufus, Freed, you'll look for Nyx and try to capture him. Midnight, you'll stay outside and go after Terra and Lust."
Midnight nodded along with Freed, agreeing with the plan. The three then turned back to the house to wait for Terra and Lust to exit the house. Midnight tapped his fingers against the tree that he leaned against, feeling unusually restless. Well, he supposed that uneasy would be a better word. He wasn't sure why he was feeling this way, but really irritated him and he itched for Terra and Lust to finally come out of the house so that they could get on with the dual rescue and capture plan.
It took several minutes of tense waiting, but eventually, Terra and Lust finally exited the house through the front door, making their way toward a part of Freed's rune wall. Lucy then nodded toward the two men and the trio set out to their assigned jobs: Lucy to find Rufus, Freed to capture Nyx, and Midnight to capture Terra and Lust.
Midnight quietly but swiftly made his way in the direction that Terra and Lust had walked in. As he got closer, he readied himself for a fight. As confident as he was in his ability to fight, he couldn't exactly deny that he was nervous about this confrontation. He had no idea what other forms of magic these two were capable of using, or which spirits they had. Going by what Lucy had said about when she, Sorano, and Yukino were captured, Terra knew Sleep Magic. The chances of her knowing other types, or Lust knowing other types, were higher than Midnight was comfortable with.
His train of thought was abruptly cut off when he bumped into Freed's wall of runes, the enchanted writing a glowing purple upon contact. He groaned as he rubbed his dully pained nose. He hissed a curse under his breath and looked around, searching for the two mages he had gone after.
Where were Terra and Lust? They should be here. Did they walk in a different direction? Why would they? His movements were silent, so they couldn't have heard him. Did they go back to the house after finding the wall of runes? He would have surely heard them making their way back if they did.
"Looking for us?"
Midnight whipped around to find a pink-haired woman standing several feet in front of him, a smirk on her face. Next to her, a blue-haired man stood with three silver keys in his hand. Midnight looked back at Terra, his eyes narrowed in a glare, and shifted his tensed body into a fighting stance.
Terra only continued to smirk, her body eerily relaxed. It unsettled Midnight, just a little. His instincts, honed from a lifetime of fighting, told him that there was something more here, something that he was missing. The smirk on the woman's face was too smug, too sure of herself, too...knowing.
Midnight continued to watch her closely, his brain working to figure out what it was that he was missing. When Terra's eyes flicked to the rune wall behind him several times, he chanced a quick look behind himself, his body's stance not changing. His eyes widened and his body froze when he saw the runes glow a purple color before disappearing entirely, clearly deactivated.
Midnight looked back at the duo in front of him. It was then that the realization hit him.
These three celestial wizards knew that they were there and what they were planning.
As soon as the realization struck him, Midnight was enveloped by flames. He screamed as his knees buckled and he fell to the ground, the flames that lapped at his exposed skin burned painfully, but didn't leave any marks.
Seemingly as quickly as they came, the flames died out and Midnight was left on his hand and knees, his eyes stinging with tears as his whole body stung, his clothes smoking a little, as well. His breathing came out in gasps as he looked around for the two celestial wizards, or for the celestial spirit who attacked him from above, but he found nobody in sight.
He cursed under his breath as he pulled himself to his feet, his slightly singed clothes rubbing against his still burning skin painfully. He was able to catch a small glimpse of blue hair disappearing in the direction that lead away from the house. Tempted to give chase, he reluctantly decided to instead make his way as quickly to the house as his pained body would allow him. He knew that he wouldn't fair well in a fight with those two, and Lucy didn't need to deal with two injured men.
He eventually made his way out of the trees and looked up to find that Lucy and Freed were standing in front of the house, seeming to be talking, while Rufus sat on the front steps, what looked like a book in his hands.
Midnight made his way to them. Upon noticing him, Lucy wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace, causing him to grimace with a pained groan. Lucy jumped away with a slightly panicky tone, "sorry! Sorry!"
Midnight waved her off and asked, "anybody hurt?"
Freed answered, "my scuffle with one of that man's spirits will certainly leave me with a few painful bruises, but besides that, I'm unharmed. Lucy, too, isn't hurt, and Rufus, rather surprisingly, isn't injured."
Midnight looked down at the blonde man, his iconic hat now firmly on his head. A small wave of relief washed over him upon seeing that Rufus was, indeed, not injured. His attention went back to Lucy when she spoke, "Rufus found something big." There was a delighted smile on her face, something that Midnight hadn't seen in some time and, unexpectedly, missed a lot.
He looked back at Rufus and asked, "that book?"
Rufus nodded and stood up. "This is a book of Celestial Spirit Magic spells. It contains the spell that will allow a celestial wizard to take over the Celestial Spirit World."
Midnight's eyes widened at that. He stepped closer to peer at the book. "How?"
Rufus tipped the book closer to him, allowing him to read the page. When he stepped away, his curiosity partially satisfied, he looked at Lucy and asked, "what's the plan now?"
Lucy opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by Freed, "hold on a moment." All three mages looked at the rune mage. His sea-green gaze was set on Rufus. "How did you find this book? And this spell? You were tied up in the basement, weren't you?"
Midnight nodded. "That's a good question." He looked at Rufus. "How did you?"
Rufus closed the book and tucked it under an arm. "This is going to be difficult to believe, but yesterday, Nyx told me about the spell and gave me this book."
Midnight narrowed his eyes at him. It wasn't in suspicion toward Rufus, he knew that the Sabertooth mage wouldn't do anything traitorous, rather, it was in suspicion of the fact that one of the celestial wizards they were combating had, seemingly, freely given up such important information.
It seemed that Lucy, too, was suspicious. "Are you sure that he can be trusted, Rufus?"
Rufus sighed, looking down at the ground for a few moments before he finally looked at the three of them and answered seriously, "look, I understand why you'd be hesitant to trust him, but I spoke with him about it. He came to me with this information, I didn't need to push. He was insistent about wanting to help us. Furthermore, he let me go when he saw that you were coming."
Lucy questioned, a surprised tone in her voice, "that's why I ran into you on my way to the basement? I thought that you had gotten yourself free."
Rufus shook his head. "Nyx had let me go. He wanted to speak with you. He's sworn up and down several times that he wants to help us."
Midnight couldn't believe what he was hearing. He shook his head. "You can't honestly believe his word. Have you forgotten who we're fighting?"
Rufus countered, "I understand your concerns, but what if he is being honest? If we can team up with him, then it would most definitely give us a great advantage. I'd say that it's worth the risk."
Midnight could only disagree. They didn't need to know anything about their enemy, they just needed to know what they were planning. Now that they had this book, they could more easily figure out how to stop those three celestial wizards. He looked to Lucy, prepared to urge her against the idea, but wanting to listen to her initial response first.
Lucy stared at the ground for a few moments longer before she looked back up and answered, "let's find a place to stay in the town before we make a final decision. I don't want to stay here for much longer, in case they come back."
With that, the small group set off toward the nearby town, an argument almost certainly waiting to happen.
#fairy tail#lucy heartfilia#midnight#macbeth#freed justine#rufus lore#rescue mission#musca#ocs#multi chapter story#chapter thirty seven
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Mattheo Riddle-Beg For Me
In the hallowed halls of Hogwarts, you, a brilliant Ravenclaw scholar known for your unwavering dedication to academics, found yourself in an unexpected battle of wits with the notorious bad boy of Slytherin, Mattheo Riddle.
Assigned as his tutor, you clashed fiercely due to his reckless attitude, a sharp contrast to your meticulous, by-the-book approach to life. Despite his smart remarks and arrogant charm, you stood your ground, unfazed by his attempts to break your resolve.
However, one day, during a particularly tense tutoring session, Mattheo had finally had enough, and nothing was ever the same.
Can this secret, toxic situationship blossom into something more? Or will you two forever be secret enemies turned lovers, destined to crash and burn.
CHAPTERS->
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty One
Twenty Two
Twenty Three
Twenty Four
Twenty Five
Twenty Six
Twenty Seven
Twenty Eight
Twenty Nine
Thirty
Thank you to everyone who has followed along with this story so far. Iâd never have dreamed it would be so popular, and that Iâd meet some of the most amazing, supportive people ever while writing it. You all mean the world to me and I love you endlessly. Hopefully this makes it easier to find all the chapters:) xoxo
đ©”Find my master list here.
#beg for me#mattheoriddlesmut#mattheoriddle#mattheo smut#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle smut#mattheosmut#mattheo#mattheoxreader#mattheo x y/n#mattheo x you#mattriddlesmut#matt riddle#theoriddlesmut#theoriddle#theodorenottsmut#theo nott x reader#theo riddle#theo nott smut#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott smut#harry potter#draco malfoy#draco malfoy smut#marcus lopez smut#marcuslopez#benjamin wadsworth#draco lucius malfoy#severus snape#draco smut
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Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition)
Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus (+ maybe the other MLs!) and an oblivious player. Thatâs it, thatâs the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, maybe some suggestive language?? will add more tags as the story progresses A/N: This is gonna be a multi-chapter fic! Iâm still not sure whether to do the boys in rotation, or just focus on one ML per series. Donât take my word for it atp tho â Iâm not even sure if I can actually finish a series lol. Also, Iâve had the creative liberty of changing stuff from the actual gameplay here and there. (Except for the self-awareness. Thatâs most definitely real.) Hope you enjoy~!
Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3
Itâs a quarter past eight and youâre still on your desk working overtime on a Friday night.Â
You let out a big sigh, leaning back on your office chair after an unhealthy duration of bad posture from hours of slouching down in front of your computer. Thereâs nothing ergonomic about the way this job is killing you, and the ache in your lower back can attest to that.Â
An irate orange tabby plops himself in front of you, blocking your view of the glaring screen and you figure that itâs time for a break.Â
âMe-oow.â
âI know, I know,â You answer tiredly, standing up to dodge a stray paw clawing your way and you hear cracks in three different places that are honestly unbecoming of a woman your age. You havenât even reached thirty yet, for godâs sake. âIâm a bad mother. But mom also had to skip dinner to make it to the seven PM meeting, so cut me some slack, okay?âÂ
A high-pitched âmeooowr!â is the only response you get; it seems like thereâs no excusing late dinner time this time around.Â
As much as youâd like to hem and haw and complain, the main reason why youâre still keeping this job is because you can work remotely. If it werenât for the fact that youâre stuck most days at home working hours past your regular nine to five, having to be on-call around the clock at all times, and that youâve consumed more sodium than a nitrite victim with the way you live off cup ramen, then, really, it beats working in an office where youâd physically have to clock in and out from exactly nine to five.Â
Your right eye twitches. No, I have not fallen in love with the system that exploits me, thank you very much.Â
âHere is your Fancy Feast, your highness,â you tell the hungry feline whoâs already ignoring the hand that feeds for the bowl full of white fish patĂ©. He eats healthier than you, sure, but you work like this for him to eat like this. The life of a single mom is an uphill battle, but extremely rewarding.Â
You raise your hand to pat your sonâs head lovingly, aborting the gesture halfway when you hear a warning growl. Alright, tough crowd.Â
After nuking a half-eaten takeout box in the microwave and grabbing a cold Bundaberg from the fridge, you hunker down on the âchaise loungeâ (see: an old wingback and a rattan ottoman youâve refurbished as a makeshift seat a few weeks back when you had guests over) for a late meal.Â
You barely register the taste of lukewarm rice on your tongue, mouth moving mechanically while your mind runs on autopilot about everything and nothing at the same time.Â
Maybe itâs time to check Jobstreet again
Is there like a laundromat near the area thatâs open twenty four seven
Eugh, I hate cold peas
What do we feel about Chromakopia?Â
I will⊠die alone
I really need to stock on some fresh produce this weekendâ
Ping!Â
A notification from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts â and like a well-trained dog pavlovâd into responding, you visibly perk up at the sight of your lock screen lighting up and the familiar banner youâve already memorized by heart.Â
Your Galaxy Explorer rewards are here. Did you put my hotelâs address as the shipping address?Â
Ah, just like clockwork.Â
You press on it with a quiet, bubbling anticipation, chewing on the plastic spork as you wait impatiently for the silly mobile game thatâs been your short respite at intervals â for more than youâd care to admit â to boot up.Â
Offhandedly, you wish that the devs would add more variations to the gameâs push notifications; more random, personalized stuff like maybe a reminder to drink water, or a fun update about their day. What youâd give â pay â for a: "Less on the overtime, kitten. I miss you,â dialogue from a certain character, but you digress.Â
Oh, well. Probably better this way, lest you dig yourself deeper into delusion.Â
The game greets you with the usual picturesque view of a silver-haired man sitting cross-legged on a chair, looking all the bit at ease in his signature crimson and white button up. The warm ambience of the Destiny CafĂ© at night draws you in, already pulling your attention away from the never-ending stream of thoughts in your brain.Â
âBefore seeing you, I thought today would be another dull day,â Sylus comments airily. The way he drawls out the words in that deep timbre of his voice never fails to make your heart flutter â just a teeeensy bit.
âEver the charmer,â you sigh happily in return, situating yourself more comfortably on the sofa, almost horizontal from how far youâre leaning back on the cushion. âYouâre looking awfully normal tonight. What, no pineapple glasses for your favorite girl?âÂ
Having bypassed the initial cringe of talking to yourself after literal months of gameplay, it almost comes off natural, the banter. Youâve already accepted the fact that youâre crazy about a fictional, pixelated man â whatâs pretending to have actual conversations with him gonna do? Itâs not as if he actually hears you yap your nonsense; there are worse things in the world than a parasocial attachment to an otome game character.Â
Your little jab at the sometimes random addition to his choice of attire earns you a laugh from the man itselfâ or at least it looks as though it does, making you blink momentarily in surprise. Happy coincidence, I guess.
You shake your head, cracking a smile, then proceed to do the routine of completing the daily agenda and then some.Â
Itâs tedious business, sure. Youâve dedicated hours upon hours on this game and youâre honestly starting to feel pretty bored with some of the gameplay elements, but you *do* like the ritualistic nature of ticking off the tasks one by one. Itâs almost ironic â the way you dutifully do one thing after the other in this game, just to avoid the pile of work thatâs waiting for you in real life.Â
Itâs not as if anything, or anyoneâs relying on you to do your daily log-ins, so you suppose itâs due to that lack of pressure as well.Â
Pulling yourself away from the five-star Xavier memory card youâve grinded to level seventy, you stare despondently at the sad little 2 on your remaining energy. The embarrassing amount of materials you lack to ascend the card seem to mock you, even as you exit the Memories window. Another goal for another day, perhaps.
All tasks on the daily agenda are complete, except for one that youâve always saved for last.
Youâre met with a standing Sylus on the gameâs home screen, arms crossed and wearing an expression youâd almost describe as impatient, if you didnât know any better. The sight makes you grin.Â
Cheekily, you poke his crotch.
Youâre looking forward to getting a playful remark, or if youâre lucky, a blush along with an embarrassed retort about your shamelessness.Â
 What you get, however, is a resounding scoff. Your eyes snap back to his face â from, ahem, your prolonged staring at the area below his waist â and you do see the familiar tinge of pink on his cheeks, but what he says in response catches you off-guard.
âYou spend that much resource for a card that isnât mine?â Sylus tsks, both his voice and expression coming across as⊠affronted? âKitten, Iâm actually hurt.âÂ
Huh?
You havenât heard that line from him before. Was there a recent update you werenât aware of? The man in question then appears to look amused, from the way youâve been rendered speechless by the unexpected dialogue.Â
All at once, you gasp when you realize what the new response means.Â
âThatâs so smart,â you say giddily. You see Sylus cock his head to the side, synchronously quirking an eyebrowâexpectant. âThey actually added a feature that lets them know which memory Iâve upgraded last, and make you react to it. Oh, thatâs so cool!âÂ
If you werenât too busy being excited over what you think is a new update from the game, youâd see the chagrined look on Sylusâ face. But when you glance back at him, all trace of the emotion is gone before you could notice anything different.Â
âDonât worry, Crow Man. Youâre still my favorite,â you assure him, making his mouth tick upwards in a semblance of a smile. He looks pleased all of the sudden, his demeanor shifting into something more relaxed.
Then a pout forms on your face. You crinkle your nose in frustration as you complain, âItâs just really hard to level your cards up at this point. It takes ages and a shit ton of energy just to level you up past seventy five.â Sighing, you add, kind of bitterly, âAnd Iâm too broke to be spending money on growth packs.âÂ
Checking the time on your phone, you see that youâve already spent more than an hour on your self-imposed break time and you know that you ought to get back to work soon. With a groan, you pull yourself to sit upright, savoring the last few minutes of free time before you slave off for the rest of the night.Â
Youâre about to clean up whatâs left of dinner when you notice the oddly thoughtful look on Sylusâ face.Â
Thereâs a deep furrow in his brows as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth. He closes his eyes shut for a few seconds. He's never done that gesture before... Ugh, he looks really hotâ
Suddenly, you see a flickerâ then a weird, sort of graphic distortion happening in the background. Uh, what??
A beat; then a glitch on the screen. âAh, shit.âÂ
The game crashes.
You exhale loudly as the gameâs interface goes back to the loading screen, tapping your thumb impatiently as the bar slowly loads to 15%... 50%..... 81%.......Â
âMaybe make sure to patch up first before releasing an update next time, jeezâ Huh?âÂ
For a quick second, nothing seems to be amiss. But then the first thing you see on the home screen is Sylusâ figure standing before you, wearing an expression one could only describe as a cat that ate the proverbial canary.Â
He speaksâ and itâs another intro you havenât heard him say, ever.Â
âYou shouldâve told me sooner, sweetie,â he almost coos the words out, making your eyes bug out in shock.Â
âNow, why donât you go check yourââ he pauses, and his mouth moves as if heâs rolling the word out, testing it. âInventory?âÂ
Sylus slides his gaze towards the upper left corner of the screen, a coy smirk still ever-present on his face.Â
There, you see something you havenât noticed earlier: two notification badges. One on your mailbox, and another on the Hunterâs Info tab. Bewildered, you press on the mail icon first, despite the insistence for you to start with the latter.Â
You see a new message: [For You]
A small gift, to bridge our worlds closer. â SÂ
Nothing is attached to it. You read it twice, perplexed. Â
âYouâre quite the contradictorian, arenât you?â Sylus tuts as soon as you return back to the home screen, his gaze boring into you even when he tilts his head sideways in mock exasperation. âMmm, I suppose it doesnât matter. Take all the time you need, sweetheart.âÂ
Helplessly, you open your inventory next.Â
Your jaw drops.Â
âWhat. The fuck,â You whisper to yourself, voice wavering in disbelief at what youâre seeing, and the sheer amount of what youâre seeing. âThisâ this canât be real.âÂ
You see that all the materials you own, from the bottle of wishes to the ascension crystal boxes, have been multiplied a hundred times over.
And on top of thatâ
Ninety nine thousand red dias????
You cannot believe how thisâ this recent⊠update (or is it a bug? Infold sure isnât this generous) didn't make the news. Even as someone as uninvolved as you are with the community and the gameâs latest releases, something like this for sure wouldâve made headlines on Twitter (X), at least. But you havenât heard anything. Nada.Â
Holy shit.Â
You feel a little light-headed, both from incredulity and excitement. Needing a moment to calm yourself down, you exit the Inventory tab in a daze.
You stare at Sylus. He stares back at you with what looks to be mirth in his eyes.Â
Skeptically, you mutter, âdidâdid I get hacked or something?âÂ
Anticipating another unexpected dialogue to prompt up, you wait for a full minute without saying anything else. And for a moment, the man in front of you looks indecisive, contemplative.Â
Thereâs something very odd, very⊠human in the way heâs looking at you. He looks as ifâ as if heâsâ
His face falls back into a neutral expression. Not unlike how his idle animation usually looks.Â
..
âŠ
âŠ.. It doesnât seem like heâs going to initiate a conversation any time soon, so you hesitantly poke him on the nose.Â
âEven in the worst-case scenario, thereâs no need to panic.â
Youâve heard that one before.
So heâs back to normal now. You temper the small disappointment that blooms in your gut.Â
Shaking your head slowly, you try to make sense of all the stuff that just happened, but a sharp bite on your ankle pulls you out of your reverie.Â
âOwâ!â The sight of your cat flopping near your feet reminds you of the time. More importantly, the backlogs waiting for you at your desk.Â
âWait, shitâ I gotta get back to work.â This⊠unbelievable stroke of good luck (?) is gonna have to take a backseat for now.
You grab the carton box and the half-empty bottle of sparkling peach as you stand up. Making quick work of throwing the container in the trash and gulping down the rest of your drink, you rush into your room and back in front of your PC.Â
Cracking your knuckles, you gingerly set your phone against the monitor. Setting the timer to one hour in Quality Time, knowing fully-well that youâre going to have to keep extending it until the wee hours of the morning â or until your battery dies, whichever comes first â you give Sylus one last look, letting out a long exhale before locking in.
âJust keep me company for the night, alright? Iâll figure out whatâs going on once my shiftâs over.âÂ
It could just be your overactive imagination, but you swear you hear a quiet chuckle from the man polishing his gun in your peripheral.
#love and deepspace#lads#lnds#love and deepspace sylus#lads sylus#lnds sylus#sylus x reader#sylus x you#lads x you#lads x reader#love and deepspace fic#sylus qin
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The Gods We Can Touch Masterlist
|Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader| ft. Yandere Aegon and Alicent
Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.
What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?
"I have outlasted all desire,
My dreams and I have grown apart;
My grief alone is left entire,
The gleamings of an empty heart.
The storms of ruthless dispensation
Have struck my flowery garland numb,
I live in lonely desolation
And wonder when my end will come."
Chapter One: My Dream
Chapter Two: The Gods' Light
Chapter Three: The Long Night
Chapter Four: Before the Storm
Chapter Five: The Princess and the Queen
Chapter Six: Salt and Blood
Archmaester Gyldaynâs Testimonies of Princess Aelora Targaryenâs Youth
Chapter Seven: Ending Anew
Chapter Eight: The Lord of the Tides
Chapter Nine: Time Mends the Broken
Chapter Ten: The Black Council
Chapter Twelve:
Chapter Eleven: The Weight of a Crown
Chapter Thirteen:
Chapter Fourteen:
Chapter Fifteen:
Chapter Sixteen:
Chapter Seventeen:
Chapter Eighteen:
Chapter Nineteen:
Chapter Twenty:
Chapter Twenty-One:
Chapter Twenty-Two:
Chapter Twenty-Three:
Chapter: Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five:
Chapter Twenty-Six:
Chapter Twenty-Seven:
Chapter Twenty-Eight:
Chapter Twenty-Nine:
Chapter Thirty:
Chapter Thirty-One:
Chapter Thirty-Two:
Chapter Thirty-Three:
Chapter Thirty-Four:
Chapter Thirty-Five:
Spotify Playlist
The reader does have a name (no use of it) for the sake of titles and the typical Targaryen/Strong features, but other than that, descriptions are vague.
All House of the Dragon/A Song of Ice and Fire warnings apply, but I will put specific ones with each chapter.
#house of the dragon#hotd fanfic#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#aemond fic#hotd aemond#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond the kinslayer#aemond x reader#prince aemond targaryen#aemond fanfiction#aemond targaryen fic#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x female reader#ewan mitchell#hotd season 2#aemond targaryen x strong!reader#aemond targaryen x niece!reader#hotd fic#hotd fanfiction#aemond targaryen x y/n#dance of the dragons#hotd alicent#hotd aegon#aegon ii targaryen#alicent hightower#rhaenyra targaryen#jacaerys velaryon#lucerys velaryon
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Smoke & Light: Part 3 [Plug!Az]
SUMMARY: A run in with the cops is another reminder of the horrors Azriel faced through his childhood. Maybe one day he'll open up about it, but not today. Today, he's solely focussed on helping you out of a bad trip. (8.2k)
WARNINGS: swearing, reoccurring themes of use of recreational drugs (weed), greening out, teasing, flirting, kissing, dirty talk, use of toys hehe, slapping/spanking, spitting, dom!Az, mentions of Az's abusive childhood.
A/N: firstly, I want to massively apologise for not updating this in sooo long. Life has been busy and I've been reading so much lately that writing slipped my mind. To make up for it, there is some filthy smut in this chapter and I am hoping to be a bit more consistent with the next updates. Thank you for being so patient and I hope you enjoy!!
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist
When Azriel was a young boy, he dreamt of becoming a guitarist. It didnât matter to him then if he was famous or not. Just so long as he was good enough to be able to replicate famous rifts with his own spin, and create his own music, too.Â
For his fifth birthday, his mother bought him a childrenâs guitar, complete with the plastic pics and a leather strap with his initials etched into the fine fabric. He knew, even at that age, that the gift had cost his mother a small fortune. But she didnât care how much it set her back. The look of pure shock and excitement on her boy's face was worth every single penny she spent.Â
He could still remember the untold amounts of sleep he would forfeit to learn a new chord or finally string more than three together at once. By seven years old, he could recreate the first half of Simple Man by Lynyrd Skynyrdâalbeit choppy and slightly out of timeâand memorise the chords by heart.Â
His half-brothers had never liked that about Azriel. His talent and passion for music and the guitar. Even at the ages of five and four, they did not like Azriel. More often than not, theyâd plant broken vases and stained cushions for their parents to find, and blame them on Azriel. They knew their father would take away his guitar for a few days to a week as punishment.Â
But even then, a week wasnât long enough. Their hatred for Azriel stemmed long before his love for guitar had grown. From the moment his half-brothers learned how to talk, Az was on the daggered end of their spiteful tongue and manipulative masterminds. As young as he was, Azriel wasnât blind to the cause of it. He wasnât blind to his step-fatherâs hatred for him, that he then instilled in his own blood sons.Â
Being what they called a âblood traitorâ would always be their main justification for what they did. Azriel had never admitted to anyone the second reason his brothers set his hands alight. But the other thought behind itâthe more vicious and calculated thoughtâwas to burn not just his hands, but his dreams, too.Â
For months after the incident, Azrielâs hands remained bandaged. He could hardly use them for everyday tasks like dressing and washing and eating. And when they had finally healed enough for the bandages to be permanently removed, he couldnât play his beloved guitar.Â
The strings were too harsh on his sensitive skin. It hurt so much just pressing down on the chords on the neck, let alone pinching the pic for longer than thirty seconds at a time. Azriel had to learn how to play all over again, covered in blisters and burnt flesh. And then his marred skin began to harden and callous and every strum was more painful than before.Â
He often wondered if this would still be his life path had the burning never happened. If he would have still met Rhys and Cass, if he would still be selling drugs. He knew he wouldnât be this well-off financially, but at what cost? What did all of this money mean when it was just him? When he wouldnât be able to fulfil his biggest dream in life?Â
He mostly thought about it all in times like this, when he was spontaneously pulled over by the cops for what they called a ârandom stop and searchâ, though they had never given a plausible cause for it. And today would be no different.Â
âYou stalking me again, Reynolds?â Az asked in a rugged tone as he exhaled the smoke from his cigarette.Â
Officer Reynolds, one of the few officers that continuously pulled Az over and searched his vehicle, leaned against the open window with his arms crossed. His blue eyes gleamed with hope of catching something on him this time, though Az knew Reynolds would walk away with another few grey hairs to add to his collection.Â
Reynolds was a strange looking man. Not in his features, but in the glint of his eyes and the disturbing tug of his lips whenever he offered a grim smile. He radiated nothing but offsetting energy, one that stunk of noncy behaviour and less than ethical tendencies.Â
His iced eyes darted quickly across Azrielâs lap and the passenger's seat, coming up short and settling his gaze on the man again.Â
âRandom stop and search, nothing personal.â He grinned that awful smile but Azriel paid no mind to it. âStep out of the car, licence and registration.â Azriel was already reaching into the glovebox for his paperwork before Reynolds could even speak.Â
He handed them over, opening the door as the officer stepped away, and stood with his hands on the hood of his Mustang. Azriel knew the drill. Heâd been patted down and had his car searched more times than he could count in the past six months alone.Â
And each and every time, Reynolds always came up short.Â
âGot any weapons in the vehicle?âÂ
Azriel rolled his eyes, looking over his shoulder as Reynolds began to pat down his stomach and thighs. âDo I look like the type that needs a weapon?âÂ
A dry chuckle slipped from the officers lips as he patted harder down Azrielâs calves and ankles before turning to his fullâalbeit shortâheight. âWhat about narcotics? Any drugs that I should be aware of?âÂ
Az grunted with another roll of his eyes. âI donât know what youâre talking about.âÂ
Officer Reynolds didnât offer a response. Instead, he bent his body into the driver's side of the Mustang and began stifling through every nook and cranny that his swollen hands could reach.Â
Azrielâs foot tapped impatiently as he waited and waited for the search to end. They wouldnât find a damn thing, especially because of the new addition Azriel had recently added to his modded car.Â
But that knowledge of the secret compartment didnât stop his muscles from tensing just slightly when Reynolds wrapped his puffed fingers around the foot mat and peeled it up.Â
Azrielâs stash was well hidden; wrapped and locked in an extended box beneath his footwell that managed to also keep the scent out. He knew it was a matter of time before they started bringing a K9 with them on their searches, so Azriel had to be prepared for that well in advance.Â
Especially with how strong the new strain smelt.Â
With a huff, Reynolds haphazardly threw the foot mat back down and struggled to clamber out of the car. And just like Azriel suspected, he came up short.Â
Reynolds handed him back his paperwork and rested his hands back on his belt, fingers itching for his baton to give Az a taste of the frustration he caused him. Azriel didnât so much as bat an eye at it. He knew Reynolds wouldnât touch him. Not if he wanted to keep both his stumpy legs in use.Â
âYou know, this is getting pretty old. How do I go about filing a harassment charge?âÂ
Reynolds scoffed. âGood luck with that.â
//
If there was one thing Az liked about having his brothers home, it was the lack of talking his mind did. There was no silence for his brain and thoughts to gang up on him, to have him question every thought and decision heâd ever made.Â
Music and guitar usually helped to quiet those demonsâthe shadows that he had no control overâbut the frustration from his earlier encounter with Reynolds had the desire for playing at the bottom of his list.Â
Instead, he settled for Nestaâs demand to braid her hair. She knew him better than she let the others know. Since they first met years ago, he became the brother she never had, that she never knew she needed. She was quick to learn his quirks and mannerisms; what they meant and how he felt.Â
And he learnt the same for her.Â
âYouâre doing it too loose,â Nesta huffed, picking at her nails from her seat on the carpet between Azrielâs parted thighs. He huffed, flexing his fingers and undoing the braid.Â
âLast time you told me it was too tight and it gave you a migraine,â he retorted back with an exasperated huff.
They argued like real siblings, too.Â
âJust do it a little looser than last time.â
Azriel split her hair into three sections once more and slowly started to braid, overlapping the sections and tugging a bit tighter than his previous attempt. Nesta hummed in approval.
They didnât pay much mind to the others. Rhys and Feyre were cuddled on the loveseat opposite them, Cassian on their left with a bulky pair of headphones on his head as he smashed the buttons of the gaming remote beneath his fingers.Â
He was growing frustrated that he was losing, but it didnât help that his hands were so massive that the pad of his thumb was big enough to press all the buttons at once.Â
âHey, Az⊠thereâs this girl I knowâŠâ Azrielâs grunt cut Feyre off before she could say anything else. He tied Nestaâs braid and tapped her shoulders, signally he was done.Â
âNot this again, Fey,â he groaned.Â
A sheepish smile sat on her full lips, a gentle tint of pink blushing the apples of her cheeks. âI really think you guys would get along, though. Sheâs super laid back and so gorgeous.âÂ
Nesta moved from between Azâs thighs on the ground and clambered back onto the sofa, reaching for her tumbler of gin and tonic. Azriel was used to this, to Feyre trying to set him up. Each time, heâd always shut her advances down, but that never stopped her.
Feyre considered it a challenge, and she wouldnât stop until Azriel agreed to go on a date. Just once, and sheâd back off. She was fairly confident that one date would be all it would take for Azriel to fall for her mysterious friend.Â
âI donât need to be set up,â he spoke, finality in his tone.Â
Rhys cocked a brow at how quickly Az dismissed his girlfriend but said nothing. He knew Feyre could get a bit too much with it sometimes, but Rhys himself still had hopes that maybe one day, Az would bite the bullet and just agree.Â
But Azriel had no plans to do that. He didn't want to be set up on a blind date, and he most certainly did not need nor want his friends involving themselves in his love lifeâor lack thereof. It wasnât that he struggled with girls, Mother, no. Not once in his life did Azriel ever have a shortage of pussy.
If he wanted it, he would get it. On his own. Without his brother's girlfriendâs self-involvement.Â
His phone chimed from his back pocket, and not bothering another glance at Feyre, Azriel retrieved it to read over the message.Â
You: you werenât kidding. This shit is strongggg x
His heart rate quickened as he read the text again and again. Azriel hadnât heard from for three daysâsince that kissâand now he was reminiscing on the taste of your mouth on his.Â
Azriel: I did warn you
You: maybe next time you could write a reminder on my baggie?
A grin stretched across the expanse of his lips, eyes glittering at how quickly you responded. The act didnât go unmissed by Nesta, who grinned against her staw and wiggled her toes against the side of Azrielâs thigh. She knew that faceâthat look.Â
âAzzy doesnât want to get set up because he already has a crush on someone.âÂ
All eyes snapped to Azriel and Nesta at her words, eyes so wide they almost bulged from their heads. They all knew Az was a ladies man, that although he kept his sex life private, he was well endowed in that aspect. But what they had never really seen was Azriel with a crush.Â
With someone who was more than a booty call or a fling.
Az narrowed his eyes at Nesta, a hard expression removing his previous smile. The phone in his hand began to vibrate and a quick glance at it had your number filling the screen through an incoming call.Â
His heart stammered.Â
âI donât have a crush. Itâs just a client.â He stood from the couch, his scarred thumb hovering over the answer button.Â
Nesta grinned maniacally, taking another sip of her gin. âA lady client?â Azrielâs response was a pillow launched at Nestaâs face before leaving his family and shutting himself away in his bedroom.Â
Az took a deep breath then swiped his screen to accept the call. âHey,â he greeted, bringing the phone to his ear. âYou doing okay?âÂ
There was a pregnant pause for a moment before your airy laugh breathed down the line and Azrielâs throat began to close up at the sound. âI think Iâve greened out a little,â you giggled, almost painfully. âEverything is spinning and heavy and when I close my eyes, I get seasick⊠is that normal?âÂ
Az pursed his lips, biting back his own smile. The fact that youâd managed to text full sentences and then call him suggested you hadnât greened out too badly. And by the light self-deprecating laugh at your own situation, he knew you werenât falling in too deep of a hole.Â
âIt should pass soon, it shouldn't get worse than how you feel now. Where are you?âÂ
âIâm at home so Iâm okay. I just didnât know what was the best thing to help.âÂ
Azriel shouldnât have let your words affect him the way they did. They shouldnât have warmed his heart and sent it soaring in his chest. But in your slightly vulnerable predicament, out of everyone that smoked in your life and would understand, it was him that you called for advice.Â
Not your friends, not your ex. Him.Â
âHonestly? Food and water.â
Another pause of silence had Azriel thinking a bit too much again. If you were calling him for advice, this was likely your first time greening out, and he wondered if youâd even be able to handle making yourself food alone.Â
After a moment of consideration, he spoke again. âWant me to stop by?âÂ
Azriel could hear your soft breath through the call. âIsnât that crossing a line?â you asked in a gentle voice.Â
He frowned, brows pinched. âWhat line?âÂ
âIâm your client, youâre my plug,â you reminded him, and something about it sent a sour taste to the back of his throat.Â
âYouâre my friend,â he offered.Â
He wondered if you considered that or not, and by the pause of silence once more, he got his answer.Â
âI am?â The soft tone of your question hurt him more than it shouldâve. It shouldnât have hurt him at all.Â
âAm I not yours?âÂ
You were considering it, though. In your book, he was definitely your friend. Heâd comforted you just a few nights ago after the fiasco with your sister's secret wedding, had bought you food and then⊠Heâd kissed you. Or had you kissed him?Â
You supposed he was your friend, but you didnât think you meant anything more to him than being just another client. Clearly, you were wrong.Â
âYeah⊠I guess you are.âÂ
The corners of Azriel's lips tugged upward slightly. âGreat, so send me your address and Iâll stop by with some food.â
Perhaps you shouldâve told him no, that it truly wasnât necessary and you could just pick at a couple of leftover cookies youâd baked yesterday. But you didnât. You wanted to see him again, wondered so desperately if that kiss had meant anything at all⊠if it would happen again.Â
âI have a spare set of keys in a security lock outside. The code is 4369, let yourself in.âÂ
//Â
You didnât know how much time you had to try and sort yourself out before Azriel would arrive. But as hard as you tried, every time you raised your head you were met with an onslaught of nausea and dizziness.Â
You spent around five minutes attempting to regulate your breathing to rid those feelings, but your body remained stomach down on the couch with your face squished against a pillow.Â
If you could stomach the feeling of your eyes being closed for longer than five seconds at a time, you probably couldâve fallen asleep. But alas, the sound of a key entering the lock of your front door had your eyes widening a little further and heart stammering against your ribs.Â
âKnock, knock.â Azrielâs voice dripped with honey as he spoke into the expanse of your open plan living-kitchen area.Â
Though you couldnât see him from your position, you could hear the faint rusting of a takeout bag in his hand as he closed the door quietly and kicked off his shoes at the door.Â
You didnât need to call out to him for Az to see you. Sprawled on the sofa, just off to his left, he grinned comically, ignoring the unfamiliar swell in his chest. His feet padded closer to the couch, settling the food on the coffee table and the smell of hot, fried chicken wafted through your senses.Â
Azriel helping you sit up and handing you the same meal you ordered the last time you saw one another was a bit of a blur. But the second the food hit your tongue and your tastebuds exploded in delight, the nausea slowly dwindled from your senses.Â
âYou are my saviour,â you moaned around the food, eyes fluttering closed and none the wiser to Azrielâs growing blush.Â
Sat in comfortable silence, Azriel didnât want you to focus on anything other than feeling yourself again. Within a few minutes, youâd both finished your food and your face didnât seem so sunken and pasty.Â
Now, you looked wonderfully blitzed, skin a little brighter than before and a sparkling sheen to your bloodshot eyes. Yeah, you were out of the woods, your body warm and relaxed.Â
âYou feeling okay?â he finally managed to ask, shoving the last fry between his lips as you nodded at his question.Â
âI feel perfectly baked now.âÂ
A laugh spluttered from his lips at your words as he wiped his scarred hands clean on a paper napkin. For the first time in the past twenty minutes, Az allowed his eyes to gaze across the expanse of your rather cosy living room.Â
Soft, golden lighting that warmed the room, plants of varying shapes and colours tucked into every corner and crevice available. Mismatched furniture and draping vines.Â
It was cute, all of it. Very you. The wall facing the couch was hidden beneath tall bookcases that were filled to the brim with every type of book he could imagine. Even with squinted eyes, he could make out a few familiar authors amongst your shelves.Â
âHave you read all of those?â He threw his gaze to you, wonder and slight adoration in his eyes, though you were sure you imagined the latter.Â
âMhm,â you hummed around your drink. âSome more times than I can remember.âÂ
You watched him stand from the couch, his tall frame approaching your collection. He was dressed in black again â his simple jeans and sweater combo â and his hair was perfectly tousled and swept down his forehead.Â
Eyes on him, his finger traced the spines of your beloved possessions, settling on one in particular that made your breath still in your chest. Azriel gently pulled it off the shelf, hazel eyes examining the near-pristine cover.Â
âCareful,â your soft voice warned him. âItâs worth three grand.âÂ
Azrielâs eyes almost bulged from his head as he turned to you with the most bewildered expression youâd ever seen. It took every ounce of control not to burst into laughter.Â
âWhat?â
âItâs 134 years old. I restored it the best I could. You shouldâve seen it when I found it.âÂ
Azrielâs brows pulled into a confused frown. âRestored it?âÂ
âYeah, thatâs what I do for work.âÂ
When his frown didnât ease, you cleared your throat to continue. âI work between an auction and a museum in the city. I find the old books and restore them, then sell them through the auction, or they go to the museum.âÂ
His once furrowed brows raised, his eyes darting back to the book in his hand as if he was inspecting the eighth wonder of the world. Azriel finally turned back to you with a smile that borderlined a smirk.Â
âThatâs actually pretty cool.âÂ
A satisfied yet sheepish smile found its way to your lips, cheeks warming under the intensity of his gaze. Azriel slid the book back onto the shelf and continued his observations.Â
If you were being honest, it was a little too intimate for your liking. No one in your life had ever taken such interest in your books, not your friends or past lovers. It wasnât like your love for books was much of a secret, but no one had taken the time to get to know them.Â
To know your books was to know you.Â
You shouldnât have been surprised that Azriel was the person to do so. In the short time youâd known him, you realised he was full of surprises.
âWhat about you?â Your voice greeted his ears softly as you cleaned up the trash from your food. Azriel casted barely a look over his shoulder, eyes caught on your limited edition fantasy book set. A part of you begged to take Azrielâs attention off them. âWhat do you do for work?âÂ
That seemed to earn his full attention, causing him to turn to face you fully. With an amused smirk, he followed you a few feet into the open kitchen. âYou know what I do for work.âÂ
Ah.Â
âYou donât have anythingâŠlegalâŠto keep on the books?âÂ
He tried to hide his amusement at your words, but to no avail. Azrielâs smirk only grew and he found himself wondering if his answer might make you think differently of him.Â
âIf you wanna talkâŠlegalitiesâŠthen Iâm an investor in the stock market.âÂ
It was your turn to hold the raised eyebrows â a look that Azriel was quick to mirror. âWhat?â He asked. âYou donât think I could work in stocks?âÂ
âDo you?â You pressed.Â
Azrielâs grin widened slightly. âI do. And Iâll have you know that Iâm very good at it.âÂ
You didnât want nor need to know any more. You werenât about to outright ask how much money he had, and if he told you out of his own desire, you were certain it would only make you feel like pure shit.Â
Your apartment and belongings werenât much but they were yours. Everything you had, you worked for. You could do without knowing how many thousands he had sitting pretty in his bank.Â
Azriel noticed that distant look in your eyes and took a seat at your island. The last thing he wanted was to make you feel uncomfortable. And if he was being perfectly honest, it was appallingly refreshing to speak with a woman about his side-hustle without them swooning or prying for more details.Â
And it appeared that it was only now that either of you were realising how different things were the last time you saw one another. When your lips pressed against his and he kissed you back with just as much want and vigour.Â
As if remembering that searing moment, your face and chest began to warm. You were quick to turn away from him, needing a moment to compose yourself and the tight feeling in the pit of your stomach.Â
You tried desperately to ignore the ache between your thighs at the memory, instead opting to focus your attention on the half empty box of cookies on the counter. Flipping the lid, you offered one to Azriel who took it without much prompting.Â
âTell me if Iâm crossing a line, but if you make enough money investing in stocks, why do you still deal?âÂ
Azrielâs eyes fluttered closed as he took a bite out of the chocolate chip cookie, and you found your eyes zeroed in on the way his plump lips moved and his broad shoulders slacked slightly.Â
His eyes opened to focus on yours. âThese are incredible.â You offered a smile, waiting. âDealing is what got me the money to be able to invest. Donât get me wrong, Iâm good at it, but I lost a lot to get where I am. Dealing is steady income for now. Itâs not something I plan to do forever.â
You didnât probe any further, satisfied with the answer he provided and not wanting to push your luck. Your eyes were drawn to his mouth again, flashes of memories littering your mind as your body warmed once more.Â
Clearing your throat, you desperately tried to blink away the haziness he seemed to make you feel.Â
âYou can smoke out on the balcony, if you want.âÂ
Azriel finished the last of his cookie and leaned forward on the counter. âI didnât bring anything.âÂ
Your head tilted slightly to the half-smoked joint on your counter, stubbed out and back in your open tin. âSmoke the rest of that. Itâs too strong for me and I know your tolerance is higher than mine.â
Azriel laughed; hearty and rich and deep. It tickled up your spine and reached around your neck and jaw to tug the corners of your lips into a smile. The effect he had on you was growing to be a slight problem.Â
âYou wanna come? Fresh air will help.âÂ
He watched you pinch the joint and lighter from your tin and lead him through to your bedroom. It was decorated similarly to the rest of your apartmentâtwinkling fairy lights and books and plantsâand out on the small balcony, youâd managed to cram a rattan loveseat and table with vines wrapped around the short iron guard rail.Â
âHere.â You handed him the joint and lighter. âIâll be back out, Iâm just going to change.âÂ
Azriel sparked up the joint between his lips, taking a long drag as you returned to your room. The smoke hit the back of his throat sharply, almost knocking him sideways. Even he hadnât smoked a joint this packed and strong in a while. It was no wonder youâd had a wobble with it.Â
He took a seat on the rattan furniture, admiring the little view your balcony offered. The summer air kissed his skin, even as late as the evening was. The warmth of it had him shrugging off his sweater and throwing it over the table, taking another deep pull.Â
If Azriel was honest, he was quite thankful for the moments reprieve from your presence. He needed to take a second to calm himself down. Az couldnât remember the last time he partook in something like this with someone who wasnât his brothers or their girls.Â
This was more of a common thing with Nesta, smoking and eating together. Never Feyre, she always preferred a glass of wine, and occasionally Mor would smoke with him when she was passing through town. Never a random girl, never a new friend.Â
But that moment's reprieve was ripped away far too quickly, because you were sauntering back onto the balcony and stealing the breath right from Azrielâs smoked lungs.Â
He was fucked. Comepletly and utterly fucked. Heâd never seen you look so relaxed, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of mismatched socks. Your hair was thrown up lazily and stray pieces fell out to frame your face.Â
Your legs, however, he couldnât stop gawking. Soft skin and a whole lot of thigh. Azriel forced his gaze to your face again as you took a seat beside him on the loveseat, leaning your back on the armrest and bringing your knees up to your chest.Â
Mother above, he could feel his cock begin to strain in his pants, his eyes begging to sweep your body once more to see what lay between your slightly parted legs. From his peripheral vision, he could see you cross your ankles, effectively shielding yourself.
But Azriel was good at reading people, and by the slight flush of your cheeks and the way your eyes grew more hooded by the second, he was more than certain you knew what you were doing and the affects your actions had on him.Â
He took another pull of the joint. âYou werenât kidding,â he mumbled, âthis shit is strong.â A bubbly laugh fell from your lips at the way his eyes squinted when the drug settled into his lungs.Â
âI did warn you.âÂ
Azriel offered it to you, watching your inner turmoil as you weighed out your options until pinching it from his fingers. âOne pull will be enough to keep me buzzed for the night.âÂ
He watched your lips thin as they clamped down on the roach. He watched your chest rise as your lungs filled with the thick tar until you pulled the joint from your lips and exhaled slowly. You handed it back to him, cutting yourself off completely for the night.Â
Azriel took it between two pinched fingers, keeping his eyes on your slightly flushed face as he took another few drags before stuffing the cherry out in the ashtray. His gaze found purchase on your lips again as he mirrored your position on the loveseat, though Az didnât tuck his knees to his chest.Â
âAre we gonna talk about it?â He asked.Â
You blinked at him, head tilted slightly to the left. âTalk about what?â
The way his taunting smirk grew made you shift uncomfortably. You had an inkling as to what he meant, but you hoped if you played dumb, he would drop it. Clearly not.Â
âAbout the last time we saw each other.â
Yup. There it is.Â
That familiar warmth spread across your face and chest again in waves of anxiety and embarrassment. You couldnât handle this type of conversation right now. You were mortified enough as it was, you didnât need to reminisce about your stupid mistake, nor the way he kissed you back as though his life depended on it.Â
You let out a long sigh. âI was kind of hoping youâd forgotten about it.âÂ
Azriel quirked a brow. âForget about it?â he asked. âYou expected me to forget a kiss like that?âÂ
It felt like all the air had been completely sucked from your lungs. You could hardly breathe, struggling to string a coherent reply together. Azriel continued to smirk at you, bathing in the way he clearly made you feel. Like he was getting off on your flustered state.Â
The state he put you in.Â
âItâs been replaying in my head for days.â Azrielâs admission sent your mind into a frenzy. You had no idea what to do with that information or how it was supposed to make you feel.Â
What you did know, was that familiar burning in the pit of your stomach, that daunting ache between your clenched thighs. And the way Azriel's eyes darkened and slowly traced the silhouette of your figure, you got the hint he felt the same way, too.Â
âYeah?â Your words came out as barely a whisper, lashes fluttering as the weed youâd just smoked began to settle into your bloodstream.Â
Azriel inched a hand tentatively toward your ankle, the tips of his scarred fingers brushing against your cotton socks. The touch had your body keening for more, your legs twitching as he slowly wrapped a large hand around your lower leg.Â
âYeah,â he replied, almost breathless.Â
He was testing the waters, desperate to get a feeler as to what you wanted from this interaction. Azriel watched you closely, cataloguing every response your body gave his touch. How goosebumps broke across the silky skin of your legs, how your cheeks flushed slightly and lashes fluttered at him.Â
âIs that all youâve been thinking about?â Your husky voice finally broke through the silence. Az raised a brow at your boldness. âOr do you let your mind wander to what else couldâve happened?âÂ
If it werenât for the stifling warmth in the air, Azriel was sure he wouldâve come in his pants from your words alone. Because he knew that meant youâd been letting your mind wander to something more.Â
You allowed him to gently tug your leg down, resting the back of your calf across his thigh. Your covered cunt was surely exposed, but Az didnât look. Not yet. A sneaky peek wouldnât be enough to satiate the appetite he had grown for you.Â
He needed to bathe and bask and bury himself in your scent. Mould his body to body, meld his soul to your soul. Even then, he would never be able to feel you as closely as he craved.Â
âYou want me to tell you what places my mind has wandered to?â His eyes were glued to your mouth, watching as your tongue slid out to wet your lips before tugging the bottom one between your teeth.Â
It was with a surge of complete arousal and haziness that had you uttering, âI want you to show me.âÂ
Azrielâs lips were on yours not a moment later when he surged forward to trap your small frame beneath his large one on the loveseat. You could barely make sense of where you ended and Azriel began.Â
His scarred hands cupped your face, his tongue massaging hotly against your own. Your legs had wrapped around his waist, ankles locked across his back to keep him close to you.Â
It was unlike any kiss youâd experienced before. Passion and need and desire. Pure want and carnage. Like nothing could ever stop him from tasting you again. Like he was savouring every single piece of you.Â
âIf you want me to show youâŠâ he muttered against your lips, âI suggest you let me take you inside.âÂ
You pulled away just enough for your noses to bump and make out a blurry picture of him before you. Swollen lips, mussed up hair that you hadnât realised youâd been running your fingers through.Â
âWorried someone might see?â You panted in a teasing tone.Â
His eyes shadowed impossibly darker. âI donât like to share.âÂ
Squirming beneath his thick body, your fingernails scraped across his broad shoulders, scratching at the cotton of his t-shirt. âItâs not sharing if theyâre just watching.âÂ
Azriel nipped your bottom lip. âWell, Iâm a greedy man, and I donât want anyone else watching you come on my cock but me.â
A breathless moan tumbled off your tongue like hot honey, your eyes fluttering closed at the words he spoke. You hoped this was just the tip of the iceberg with him. Prayed that he was as filthy as he was gorgeous.Â
Without another second to get lost in your thoughts, Azriel was gripping your hips, lifting you as he stood. Your legs around his waist tightened as your arms snaked to circle his neck.Â
Even in the dark, he moved swiftly, settling your body onto your mattress without missing a beat. He crawled back between your thighs, the moonlight kissing his tanned skin through the cracks of your window.Â
His lips were on yours again, searing and eager. Azriel poured every ounce of need and desire into it, massaging your tongue and licking against the roof of your mouth. He tasted like the cookies youâd baked, a hint of smoke and a tang of bud.Â
It was intoxicating. He was intoxicating.Â
Your fingers tugged at the curled tendrils on the nape of his neck, ushering him impossibly closer. His body flattened atop yours, the grooves of his abs pressing deliciously against your stomach and chest.Â
Gods, he was solid. Built like a fucking Greek God and your fingers itched to trace the delicate intricacies of his golden skin.Â
âAzriel,â you panted against his lips. âIf you donât touch me right now Iâm going to burst into flames.âÂ
A dry chuckle left his throat as he dragged his mouth across your jaw and down to your neck; kissing and licking and sucking. He nipped at a sensitive spot, begrudgingly tugging himself off your frame.Â
Sitting on his knees between your open thighs, he was a fucking sight. His chest heaved as he took a breath, his eyes dark and hair an unruly mess. Excitement was getting the better of you. So much so that when his scarred fingers looped in the neck of his shirt and tugged it up, you all but foamed at the fucking mouth.Â
An unexplainable sound squeaked from the back of your throat. He was fucking beautiful. His skin was flawless, abdomen toned with divots of muscle, and dark ink of swirls that adored his chest.Â
You could physically feel your arousal seep from your cunt, could feel your clit throb in desperate need for him. You could hardly breathe, your lungs almost crushed by his sheer beauty.Â
You could stare at him forever.Â
âAre you going to be good for me?â His rugged voice broke you from your trance. You blinked at him. Once, twice.Â
Gone was the flirtatious Azriel who once made you blush from teasing. Gone was the light warmth in his smile and cheeky glimmer in his eyes.Â
The Azriel before you was cold now. Calculated. He oozed power and dominance and your pussy clenched in anticipation of the pleasure he might inflict on you.Â
The Azriel before you held all the control. And youâd gladly surrender whatever you had left to offer.Â
âYes,â you whimpered in response.Â
He didnât reply. Not with words. Azrielâs large palms flattened on your inner thighs as he pried your legs further apart. The calluses of his marred fingers scratched at your silky skin as they inched closer and closer to your core.Â
His fingertips grazed at the soaked fabric of your panties. âLook at you, pretty girl.âÂ
Your lashes fluttered closed, lips parted open, head rolled back. Gods, you wanted his voice on a loop in your brain for the rest of eternity. If he was going to continue talking, you wouldnât last long.Â
âLook at your dripping little cunt.â
You couldnât hold in the whimper, nor the way you clenched on nothingâso desperate to be filled by him.Â
âIâm going to take my time with you.â You knew it wasnât a threat, but Christ did it sound like one. You were far too pent up to be touched in any way that wasnât with a cock buried deep inside you.Â
Foreplay could come next time, youâd let him spend hours devouring you if that was what he truly wanted. Not now, not when you were borderline going to sob.Â
âFuck me, Az.â
He stilled, eyes on you as his hands halted on your inner thighs. âPlease,â you whimpered, âI need you to fuck me. You can do what you want to me next time.âÂ
Azriel cocked a brow, the familiar hint of him returning to his face for a brief moment. âYou promise?âÂ
Neither of you allowed yourselves longer than a few brief moments to bask in the vow of a next time. Not when he ghosted his fingers across your cunt and you nodded your head quickly, desperately.Â
âThereâs condoms in the drawer.â Your words came out a breathless pant as Azrielâs toned body leaned over yours. He rifled through your nightstand, blindly reaching for a foil packet when his fingers grazed against something else. Something silicone.
His eyes found yours in the night, a mischievous glint that darkened his honeyed hazel irisâ. Your lips parted. âWhat?âÂ
From your angle, you couldnât see what he held in his hands. Not until Azriel leaned back on his knees between your parted thighs, and the moonlight bounced off the hot pink toy in his palm.Â
Oh, fuck.Â
Without breaking your gaze, Az gently stroked the tip of the six inch object against your panty-covered cunt. You were soaking through the fabric, your thighs trembling on either side of his legs.Â
There was no way this was happening. No way he was going toâ
âI think I wanna fuck you with this instead.âÂ
You couldnât argue with him, couldnât even muster a single word to leave your lips. No one had used a sex toy on you before, much less a fucking dildo. And yet here Azriel was, eager to please you in the dirtiest ways possible. Even if it denied him his own pleasure.Â
âAzââÂ
He held his free hand in the air.Â
âLetâs call it a compromise.â His tone suggested there was no room for argument. You clamped your lips shut and continued to take deep, ragged breaths through your nose.Â
âIf youâre a good girl with this toy, Iâll reward you with my cock later.âÂ
Later. As in, he wasnât planning on making you come just onceâŠ
You nodded once more, vigorously.Â
If it was down to Azriel he wouldâve tied you up and taken his time with you anyway. He wouldâve told you not to be a spoiled brat and to take whatever he gave you like a good girl.Â
But he couldnât do that, not yet.Â
He couldnât deprive you of the one thing you desperately wanted. But he could take away the thing to cause the most pleasure. Replace his cock with a toy. Watch you come all over it. And then ruin you until you creamed all over him and sobbed from overstimulating.Â
Azrielâs cock leapt in the tight confinements of his pants. He was desperate to free himself, touch himself. Have you touch him. Heâd imagined the feeling of your lips around his dick for days, let his mind wander to what youâd look like on your knees for him.Â
He needed to be patient, heâd be able to stuff your throat full soon enough. He was sure of it. Then heâd let you sit on his tongue and suffocate him until you were both seeing stars.Â
âPlease, baby.âÂ
Your pleading voice broke him from his trance and Azriel wrapped two fingers around your panties and pulled them to the side, baring yourself to him.Â
And what a sight you were.Â
Swollen and soaked. Your pussy glistened under the moonlight, your hips rolling lazily as if trying to chase the touches he wouldnât grant you. Az wanted nothing more than to bury his face in your warmth and stay there all fucking night.Â
But he didnât touch you, at least not with his own body and skin. Azriel motioned the toy to your heat, teasingly sliding through your slick folds to collect your arousal. You jolted at the sensation, shuddering beneath his touch.Â
Azriel leaned over your body, one arm supporting his weight beside your head, the other coaxing the toy through your head, nudging the head against your pulsing clit.Â
âYouâre gonna keep your eyes on me, and youâre gonna imagine itâs my cock fucking your tight little pussy.â Your chest arched into his, nipples pearled beneath the thin fabric of your t-shirt.Â
âDo you understand?â There he was again, that dominant and overpowering Azriel you saw just moments ago.Â
You nodded, lips blubbering slightly. âYes.âÂ
He cooed you softly, his head dipping down enough to brush his nose against yours. Azriel lined the dildo to your entrance, teasing your hole deliciously before gently pushing through your tightness.Â
Your lips parted, brows knit as your body grew taut. His honey gaze dripped into yours, melding you to him as Azriel rolled his hips to mirror what he would do if he was the one fucking you.Â
âSuch a good girl, taking that cock.âÂ
Your eyes fluttered closed at his praise, head rolling back into the pillow until his weight shifted above you and a briefly sharp sting met the side of your cheek. Your eyes flew open again, wide and confused.Â
Azriel looked down at you, his hand now gripping either side of your cheeks, his gaze much darker than before.Â
âI told you to keep your pretty eyes on me.â And then he sheathed the toy deep in your cunt.Â
A shriek of pleasure tore through your throat, hands reaching for the warm skin of Azrielâs shoulders. Your nails dragged across the muscles that rippled beneath your touch, scratching at the surface with a cry.Â
âFuck!âÂ
Azriel began with slow thrusts, allowing you a few brief moments to accumulate to the intrusion. Not much time, but enough. Because after the fourth thrust, he picked up the pace.Â
The noises were obscene, your high pitched cries and moans and the squelching of the toy that fucked your sopping cunt.Â
Everything was too intense to comprehend. The fullness you felt, the lack of control you possessed. And the way his eyes bore into yours, as though he was claiming your soul to melt with his own. He was hauntingly beautiful, even in his dark demeanour.Â
In your hazy state, it looked like even the shadows curled around his figure. As though he was their master, too.Â
âYouâre so fucking gorgeous, baby,â he praised. âTaking that cock like a good little girl.âÂ
His voice dripped with sex and arousal, and when he shifted his hips once more, you could feel the thick and solid bulge of his length in his trousers. You wanted nothing more than to feel it, taste it.Â
You clamped tightly around the toy, dragging scratches and marks down Azrielâs golden skin. âPlease let me come.â You had never begged to come before, had never even asked. But you felt no shame in pleading to the God above you for your release.Â
Youâd give him anything he wanted.Â
Azrielâs own breath grew shaky, unready. âOpen your mouth,â he commanded. You listened and complied immediately, eager to please him.Â
He leaned closer, pinching your face harder before spitting into your mouth, onto your awaiting tongue. Then he was kissing you, biting you, claiming you.Â
Your entire body felt like it burst into flames, hot fire licking at you from the inside out. You couldnât breathe. Your entire being completely locked and consumed as you came around the toy with a frantic sob of his name.Â
Azriel couldnât cope, couldnât handle the sound of his name on your lips as you came around something that wasnât him. Every ounce of self control was crumbling down at the sight of youâof your eyes still fixed on his, your jaw slack and your supple body arching to meet his.Â
Heâd never seen anything so fucking sinful yet heavenly at the same time. Never felt so connected to someone without even touching them. He couldnât take it, needed to touch you, feel you, taste you.Â
Az pulled the toy from your pussy, dragging it up between your bodies as you desperately attempted to catch your breath. He held it to your mouth, and without command, your tongue swirled around the length of it, tasting your own release with your eyes still boring into his soul.Â
And now he had an even more vivid image of what youâd look like sucking his cock.Â
Before Azriel could get a taste for himself, that cursed blaring of his phone broke through the heaving silence. He didnât hear it at first, not until it stole your attention from him.Â
âYouâre phone,â you muttered breathlessly, barely coherent.Â
Azriel dropped the toy to the side of the bed, his hands gentle on your body and face now. âIgnore it,â he breathed softly.Â
His lips met yours in a taunting kiss, one so stark opposite to the way heâd treated you just moments ago. The versatility of this man was going to give you whiplash.Â
But the phone blared again. And again. And suddenly, neither of you could ignore it anymore. His forehead rested against yours, a frustrated sigh tumbling off his lips.Â
âYou should go.â
He closed his eyes. He didnât want to.Â
âYou donât wanna come with me? Do some drop-offs?â He was tempting you, desperately wanting to spend more time in your presence, especially if it potentially ended like this again.Â
You hummed, considering it. But your body was spent and the idea of being in his car and not being able to have your hands all over him at any moment you pleased sounded like torture.Â
âNext time?â You posed it as a question, though the hope in Azrielâs eyes proved that he was more than happy to not only fuck you again, but to spend time with you, too.Â
âYeah?â
You nodded. âMhm.â
He nosed at your cheek, planting a teasing open-mouthed kiss to your jaw, nosing back up to your ear. âYou look fucking breathtaking when you come.âÂ
Your eyes fluttered closed when he pulled away, your thighs trembling as he knelt and then clambered off your bed. Azriel watched your spent body for a moment, the way your thighs rubbed together as you squirmed, no doubt still horny.Â
It pained him to leave you like that, wanting more. But if he didnât leave now, he likely never would. And that wasnât something he could afford to do right now.Â
So without another word, he bent down to press a kiss to your mouth, and then he leftâstill high on both the drugs and you.Â
Thank you for reading and I apologise again for such a massively long wait for this chapter!!
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Out of Time Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-seven
AO3
The journey is hard, with Claire near term, Charlie dealing with early pregnancy, and all the babies and children. Hard but joyful. For the first time in over a year, there is no fear.
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Oh, they still keep guard but, the deep terror that accompanied moving before, is gone.
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âHow many more days?â Claire asks one evening.
Â
âTwo, if we keep moving at this pace. Why?â
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âI am not sure we are going to make it.â Her hands are on her baby bump. They had discussed waiting until their child was born. But, with the majority suffering from cabin fever and the children going stir crazy, moving immediately seems preferable.
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âAre you having pains?â He kneels down beside her, his hands going to either side of her bump. The wind picks up around them as they sit in the makeshift tent.
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âI just feel it will be soon. A mama knows.â She smiles over at their sleeping daughter. A miracle, as Jamie thinks whenever he sees her. She looks like him and his family now, where before she looked like her mama, Godâs mercy to spear them all memories of her father. Incredible.
Â
âAye, they do.â He carefully exams her outside before laying her carefully down and doing an internal exam. What he finds, shocks him. âClaire, you are in full labor now.â
Â
In fact, she is almost fully dilated. âBut I have just felt some pressure.â She argues.
Â
âYou are going to feel more as you are at nine almost ten.â He calmly says. Inside, he is a mess of nerves. There is a reason doctors are told not to treat their own loved ones. He has no choice.
Â
âOh Lord!â her breath starts coming faster.
Â
âBreath baby. Just think, at least you arenât withering in pain.â
Â
She barks out a laugh. He has a point. âAlright, letâs do this.â Her elbows dig deep in the ground, as her body gets in position. Behind her, their first born sleeps in a pile of blankets, completely unaware her life is about to change.
Â
Jamie sterilizes his hands and lays a blanket under her and one to the side. His surgical scissors are also close by. He is as ready as he can be.
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A deep breath as she starts to push, the pressure growing to an unbearable point. She has to push.
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He places some oil on her bulging perineum, easing their baby out. He swipes the babyâs mouth out and tells his wife to pant. One final push after and he holds their son. The lad looks as startled as his papa. From her question to his birth was only a half hour.
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âJamie, what?â She asks.
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âWe have a son. He is a bawl lad.â He lifts him up to his mama. This one looks like his original sister, all Claire.
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âOh my baby! Look at you!â She is laughing through her tears. âHow amazing and thoughtful you are son.â
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âAye, but a bit of warning would have been nice.â Jamie says as he delivers the placenta into the blanket and gives it a good look over.
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âTrue.â She stares into his eyes as his first home gives the last it can give. Daddy cuts the cord. âSo, what do you say Jamie? What shall we name him?â
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âMackenzie Alexander.â He announces. She nods.
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âPerfect. Simply perfect!â She brings wee Mac to her breasts.
#my writing#outlander fanfic#out of time#chapter one hundred and thirty seven#jamie and claire#cannon divergence#outlander fandom#modern au
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